Future of “rock” is in doubt
China’s plans to strip some of its autonomy has fueled fears
Hong Kong was born at the crossroad of empires, a hybrid of British and Chinese parentage. It may fade there, too.
This “barren rock,” as an envoy of Queen Victoria once called it, transformed into one of the world’s first truly global cities, a place where international finance has thrived as its people created a cultural identity all their own. Even the terrority’s current political system is bound by a negotiated settlement, called “one country, two systems,” that, despite all odds and an inelegant moniker, seemed to work.
But this past week, Hong Kong discovered the limits to the middle ground that it has carved out to nourish one of the most prosperous and dynamic cities on Earth: between East and West, between rice and bread, between a liberal and an authoritarian order.
The territory’s fate is once again being decided in faraway halls of power as Beijing moves forward with plans to strip some of the autonomy the territory was supposed to enjoy for 50 years after Britain returned it to China in 1997.
The death knell for Hong Kong has been sounded many times since that handover. But the proposed national security legislation could have crushing implications for a place so dedicated to the international language of
commerce that the local form of English is stripped of embellishment: Can, no can?
Too often these days, the answer is “No can.”
The new national security laws, outlined at the annual session of China’s legislature Friday, will likely curtail some of the civil liberties that differentiate Hong Kong from the rest of the country. And they take aim at the mass protest movement that showed the world last year the extent to which people were willing to go to protect their hybrid home.
“At the end of the day, we have to accept that we answer to one country,” said Nicholas Ho, the 33-year-old scion of a Hong Kong tycoon family. “And that country is more and more powerful.”
With tensions between the United States and China growing, some have characterized the fight for Hong Kong’s future as a skirmish in a more fundamental clash of civilizations. Beijing considers its intervention in Hong Kong a necessary move for maintaining the country’s sovereignty, while Washington considers it a fullfrontal attack on the city’s autonomy.
In both world views, Hong Kong again is caught in the middle. Either the territory is poised for a return to protest politics or the latest national security diktats from Beijing will only serve to drive away the commerce and capital Hong Kong needs to flourish. And both outcomes are possible.
Douglas Young started a home décor and fashion brand called G.O.D. that plays with Western notions of orientalism and celebrates totems of Hong Kong life: puns that mix Cantonese and English, breakfasts of macaroni soup, kung fu films that deliver a kick to Hollywood.
He is, at 54, old enough to remember what life was like under the British, when Hong Kong Chinese couldn’t easily enter certain clubs.
But Young also rattles off the democratic touchstones that he says make Hong Kong special: rule of law, freedom of expression and an independent judiciary. These are the civil liberties that some fear are at risk under Beijing’s proposed national security legislation.
“I’m worried that Hong Kong people are becoming secondclass citizens in our own city again,” Young said. “Is our fate to always feel colonized?”
Last year, more than 90% of young people here said they considered themselves to be from Hong Kong, not China, according to a University of Hong Kong poll, the highest number since the survey began more than a decade ago.
“I am 100% Hong Kong, 0% China,” said Mickey Leung, an 18year-old member of a youth democracy movement who grew up in a gritty suburb 15 minutes from the border. Her grandmother lives on the mainland.
Just as under colonial rule, the people of Hong Kong can neither choose their own leader nor fully shape how their government is run. Promised political reforms never materialized. Booksellers critical of Chinese leadership were snatched from the streets of Hong Kong and ended up in China.
The catalyst for last year’s mass protests, a now-revoked extradition bill, underlined Beijing’s ability to at any moment threaten Hong Kong’s freedoms.
Starting last June, an acute sense of anxiety about the future brought millions of peaceful marchers to the streets. Fury at the police — for deploying rubber bullets and tear gas against holiday shoppers and students alike — fueled each subsequent rally, even as unease grew over frontline agitators unleashing Molotov cocktails.
Cathy Yau was raised by a single mother in one of those tiny flats that, Tetris-like, form the cramped architecture of Hong Kong. She attended a school with a pro-china curriculum and worked for 11 years as a police officer. Last summer, as the protests blazed, she quit the force.
“I could not face a job where we were ordered to use tear gas on normal people like they were criminals,” she said. “That’s against the core values of Hong Kong.”
In November, Yau, 36, ran for district council and beat the proestablishment incumbent. While the position holds little power, the electorate’s overwhelming support for pro-democratic candidates reflected the angry mood in Hong Kong.
The pressure has continued to intensify. In January, China replaced its top representative in the city with a senior official known for his harsh stance on security. Some of Hong Kong’s most august pro-democracy figures were arrested last month. The latest salvo, the national security legislation, does not surprise Yau.
“This is the Communist Party,” she said. “This is what will happen eventually. The only question is when.
“I grew up raising the Chinese flag in school every day, but I feel nothing,” she added. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t know where I’m going. I’m just Hong Kong.”