The Evisceration of Hong Kong
From laissez-faire to lèse-majesté: an embarrassment in four fits.
I. A Good Fit: Fit for Foreigners—an Embarrassment of Riches
I first travelled to Hong Kong from the UK to marry my Hong Kong-born fiancée in 1980. I can still recall the smell of petrol when I disembarked at Kai Tak airport, and the heat and humidity reminded me of my life as a post-doc in Nashville. The former colony—then a “territory”—still felt British. People drove on the left, many of the streets had English names, and the road signs were in both Chinese and English, which made getting around fairly easy in the days before smartphones and GPS. During our five-week honeymoon, we visited most of the tourist attractions on Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, the New Territories, and outlying islands: the food and clothing markets, the hills, the reservoirs and beaches. What a marvellous place it was! Thereafter, we alternated Christmases between the UK and Hong Kong, enjoying the hikes, concerts, ballets, and theatre in the latter’s warm but dry winter weather.
We spent 24 years living and working in Germany, but Hong Kong always seemed like the most natural place to retire. My wife had, by then, spent more of her life in the West than in her home city, where all her family lived. The first ten years of our retirement in Tuen Mun lived up to our expectations. Hong Kong was a welcoming city with an international outlook and a laissez-faire attitude towards rules and regulations. The expression of all sorts of views was permitted and visitors flocked in from around the world. Foreign permanent residents were allowed to participate in local elections. There were five professional orchestras and many more amateur music groups, and the public transport was clean and efficient.
Half-price tickets and subsidised travel for pensioners made trips to town for a concert the norm. Hong Kong’s free-port status meant that I was not taxed on my pension from abroad, which put me in the unusual position of being able to enjoy “representation without taxation.” Musicians from around the world would visit regularly; in Hong Kong the orchestras come to you. Participating in the permitted civic demonstrations, controlled by a friendly police force, made life very different from that on the mainland, so returning to Hong Kong from China was always a welcome relief. Furthermore, we were able to contribute to civic life by teaching English in our home, at university clubs or hostels, or at primary schools. It was a good life.
What was not to like about Hong Kong 1.0? Nothing!
What went wrong? Everything.
II. A Bad Fit: Unfit for Hong Kongers—an Embarrassment for Hong Kong
In 2020, the National Security Law (NSL) was imposed on Hong Kong by the central Chinese government, without consulting the elected local legislature. The consequent changes to life there were sudden, shocking, and repulsive to those (like my wife) who had been born and brought up there, and to those (like me) who had moved there to experience the special qualities that Hong Kong 1.0 beamed to the world. The NSL identified democracy and democrats as security threats to be eliminated. Not only were all democratic processes (such as citizens’ voting for candidates) now illegal, but democratically elected legislators were arrested and imprisoned simply for doing what politicians do (choosing candidates to run in local elections). Anyone participating in the now-illegal primary elections was called an “enemy of the people” by Hong Kong’s new chief executive. All district councillors (elected in seven of the eight constituencies) resigned after they were told they would have to repay government funding they had already spent on the local activities they were elected to provide.
New social and legal “red lines” appeared overnight, and woe betide anyone who crossed them. Not only were these lines draconian, but they were also invisible, undefined, and subject to change without warning. Hong Kong rapidly became a mockery of its former self: an unwelcoming, inward-looking place, the social and political landscape of which was drastically and rapidly disfigured by a paranoid regime and a fearful citizenry. Hong Kongers are now encouraged to inform on their fellow citizens by subway posters, regime broadcasts on TV and radio, and frequent speeches by the national-security police and security chiefs. Vast numbers of reports are received by the authorities every day, reporting on Hong Kong residents suspected of “subversive” words, deeds, or even just appearance. Those unfortunate enough to be targeted in this way are presumed guilty without evidence for actions deemed “contrary to the interests of national security.” They are visited in their homes by the NS police in the early morning hours, taken to a police station for questioning, and cautioned that their actions “may be against the NSL.”
Those who have fled Hong Kong leave their families vulnerable to harassment and intimidation by the authorities, who punish them for the perceived sins of their offspring. And since it is never stated which activities have actually violated the NSL, everyone else is incentivised to keep their thoughts to themselves lest those thoughts turn out to be proscribed. Never formally arrested, suspects may be brought in for further questioning at any time, spreading “white terror”—a term Hong Kongers use to describe the creep of suffocating Chinese authoritarianism. Those who are detained and then released are the lucky ones; the former legislators were refused bail and remain in jail while incriminating evidence is sought.
All Hong Kong officials are now required to pledge allegiance to China. The promise that Hong Kong’s autonomy would be protected following the 1997 handover of the territory to China has been replaced by the robotic mantras of a Chinese patriotism that outlaws alternative narratives or views. Schools and universities are required to hold flag-raising ceremonies, uniformed services, and youth groups practise the fascist “goose-step” march favoured by despotic regimes. Even kindergarten children are instructed to be watchful for signs of secession, subversion, and sedition, and to report their parents and teachers to the authorities, if necessary.
Lessons in “patriotism” are mandatory, and university graduates cannot receive a degree without passing an exam on the topic. Disrespecting the Chinese flag and anthem is now a crime punishable by imprisonment and hefty fines. Demonstrations of national pride and allegiance to China have become the hallmarks of the good citizen. This emphasis on the distinction between obedient “patriots” and unpatriotic “subversives” has created an “us” and “them” attitude writ large and clear. The “them” naturally includes foreigners, who are suspected of insufficient allegiance to China, by definition.
The independent Hong Kong Free Press has been allowed to survive (for now, at least), possibly because the CCP believes that its continuing existence will provide the regime with a fig leaf with which to cover its other repressive measures.
The unwelcome consequences of these developments can be summarised under the following alliterative headings:
Civic collapse: In addition to the mandatory pledges of allegiance, Hong Kongers are no longer permitted to elect local representatives on district councils or government members in the legislature. This has fatally weakened civil society. Formerly, Hong Kong citizens selflessly gave their time to volunteer in schools and civic societies. Now, only authorised unelected officials may provide such services.
Faltering freedom: The British may not have established democracy in Hong Kong but they were generally considered benevolent dictators. Early on, they established the forerunner of the district councils, where locals could influence government actions. Now, even vestiges of these initiatives have been ruthlessly eradicated, as locally elected district councillors have been replaced by unelected, government-selected members of various committees. These apparatchiks are unknown to the populace, and they are expected to report the views of locals to the Chinese government.
Hilarious hubris: In 2021, the Chinese regime congratulated the Hong Kong government on convicting democratically elected legislative council members of subversion, when the latter was only carrying out the instructions of the former. The national-security police then congratulated themselves on securing the required convictions, when no bail was granted and conviction was assured.
Humourless humbug: Political cartoons, comedy, humour, parody, and satire about the current situation are forbidden, and offending examples are swiftly removed from the internet. Suspect books are removed from public, school, and university libraries. Even a list of proscribed materials will not be provided, as such a disclosure may “endanger national security.” No one dares to smile in public anymore in case unsmiling government officials conclude that they are being laughed at.
Inglorious ignoring: In 2019, two million people—almost a third of Hong Kong’s population—demonstrated in support of the Basic Law on universal suffrage. They were ignored. But 1.5 million unverified signatures—allegedly collected on streets in unnamed districts or at MTR stations by a pro-Beijing political party—were accepted as widespread support for the change in district council format.
Lackadaisical logic: Hong Kongers are told that democracy is improved by jailing democratic activists and democratically elected legislators, and that elections are made more representative by drastically reducing the voter base. Candidates, on the other hand, apparently reflect the will of the citizenry by being nominated and selected by pro-government minions.
Ludicrous language: Demonstrations are called “black riots” and voting is a “colour revolution.” Kindergarten-level English appears in official statements and on signposts, and incorrect pronunciation is regularly heard on radio and TV broadcasts while translation and spelling errors routinely appear in television subtitles. Police recruits are no longer required to have a working knowledge of English, which is now taught by the police themselves. Major shop chains are staffed by people who are unable or unwilling to use English, and local banks no longer use English as an official language.
Mainland mantras: Chinese Communist Party jargon is increasingly used by Hong Kong’s government when it encounters opposition. Hong Kong’s chief executive has condemned those who “wantonly interfere in Hong Kong’s affairs” and accused “foreign forces” of “brainwashing” students with anti-China propaganda.
Nannying notices: Citizens are informed that disrespectful acts “hurt the feelings of Hong Kong people,” although Hong Kong people have never been asked. The only feelings at risk of being hurt are those of sycophantic officials who wish to be seen as “patriotic.” The Hong Kong government has awarded itself the task of arranging activities and facilities for Hong Kongers to enjoy, such as late-night food stalls, entertainment, monthly firework displays, inflatable balloons, a “toy panda paradise,” and “iconic” architectural models.
Parroting puppets: “Tell Hong Kong stories well” instruct the Hong Kong government’s advertisements to the post-pandemic world. So, the Justice Minister announced that he was going to the UK to “tell the Hong Kong story well.” When he was there, he “told the Hong Kong story well.” And when he returned, he reported that he had “told the Hong Kong story well.” No variation is permitted, as the Hong Kong government is petrified of being found wanting by its masters on the mainland.
Patronising patriots: The government decided to replace “Year of the Dragon” by “Year of the Loong,” a non-Pin Yin phonetic transliteration of the mythological creature in Mandarin. Why? Because Western dragons are apparently “inauspicious and evil” but Chinese loongs are “auspicious symbols of imperial power.” This was an arrogant assumption that the government knew English better than its native speakers, who were baffled by the change and needed a translation. It was also condescending in its ignorance of Welsh culture. The Welsh took offence because their national Red Dragon embodies “bravery and strength against invaders.”
Preposterous prepositions: The Hong Kong government challenged a lower court’s decision on the right of the accused to have a lawyer of their choosing. Then it challenged the appeals court’s support of the lower court’s decision. It even challenged the court of final appeal’s agreement with the lower courts’ decisions. Under the Rule of Law the verdict of the COFA is (by definition) final, so challenging it exposes the myth that the Rule of Law still exists in Hong Kong. By invoking the National Security Law to reverse the unwanted decision, the government proved that mainland’s Rule by Law now prevails.
Ruinous regulations: Pressing Hong Kongers to live, work, and die in the Greater Bay Area (which includes Macao and southern Guangdong) has led to a local worker shortage, and the subsequent importation of nurses, doctors, and police recruits from the mainland. Diluting the local workforce with those already primed by an authoritarian government brings inequalities. Mainland nurses do not require certification (as the locals do) and mainland doctors do not speak good English (as the locals do). But neither group can complain because the nurses’ and doctors’ unions have been disbanded.
Sickening sycophants: When the mainland announces that something must be done, rapid activity ensues among Hong Kong officials. When something else is deemed unimportant, action is shelved. Initiative is neither shown nor permitted by the Hong Kong government.
Silly sayings: Post-pandemic announcements on television, radio, and advertisement hoardings cry “Hello Hong Kong!,” “Happy Hong Kong!,” and “Be Jolly!” Advertisements on public walkway walls announce: “RTHK News tells the truth.”
Transnational trespassing: Bounties are offered for information leading to the arrest of Hong Kongers abroad. Meanwhile, relatives are threatened at home by the local national-security police. The government has the gall to insist that Hong Kong’s National Security Law is applicable everywhere, not just in Hong Kong, thereby threatening anyone who dares to defy the Chinese Communist Party. Senior diplomats in the UK have even physically attacked Hong Kongers and non-Hong Kongers simply for expressing themselves in free societies. This is a level of thuggishness not seen since the days of Mao’s cultural insanity.
Aaron Sarin
Hong Kong may still physically exist, but it is now just another mainland city, run by humourless grey-suited “patriots” who monotonously recite their prepared speeches without enthusiasm.
So, what’s not to like about Hong Kong 2.0? Everything!
What should we do? Consider leaving.
III. A Misfit: Unfit for Foreigners—Just Embarrassing
When I was living as a permanent resident in Hong Kong, I always considered myself a Hong Konger, rather than a British expat. I reaped the benefits the city offered, but I also gave back to society by participating in many aspects of civic life, voting for local district-council representatives, and helping students with written and spoken English.
The current emphasis on nationalistic patriotism means that foreigners—whether temporary or permanent residents—are no longer considered valuable members of society. They are now distrusted and suspected of anti-China activity intended to smear the Hong Kong and central governments. The proliferation of surveillance cameras and facial-recognition technology on the streets, in trains, and in restaurants only adds to the sense of insecurity. Zealous patriots from the mainland may report us for innocuous comments likely to “incite hatred against the central government and the Hong Kong government, so as to create resistance.” Or we may be suspected of expressing “soft resistance,” an undefined term designed to intimidate anyone expressing doubts, in any form, about government policy or personnel.
My wife and I didn’t just decide to retire in Hong Kong because she had family there. We both loved living there for its culture and its geographical beauty. But since 2020, the city’s freedoms and spirit have been suffocated, poisoning the relationship between the government and the governed. Citizens are either ignored or arrested for what would be considered normal behaviour in civilised cities (and was considered normal behaviour in Hong Kong under its colonial governors and four former chief executives). People there are now frightened into accepting the views of their so-called “leaders,” who have been carefully selected to follow a course dictated by the mainland regime.
I was working in West Germany when the Berlin Wall fell, and I could sense the euphoria of East Germans escaping the repressive Stasi surveillance state under which they had suffered for so long. The imposition of the NSL, and the associated loss of personal freedom in Hong Kong, has obliterated personal choice and participation in civic activities and brought fear and paranoia to that once-great city. The future is ominous.
Throughout that period, I experienced sadness as I watched the city decline in the hands of rabid nationalists—just as its last British governor, Chris Patten, predicted in 2019. I felt anger and frustration because I was powerless to prevent or arrest these changes to the city I loved. And I felt pity for those Hong Kong citizens who are desperate to leave but are unable to do so.
Returning to the UK was never a priority for my wife and me, but leaving Hong Kong now was. It could no longer be our home. I have as much contempt for the current Hong Kong government as that government has for its own citizens. We debated whether things could get worse and concluded that they can and they will. And so, after much indecision, we finally decided to move to the UK.
Are things about to get better? No.
What should we do? Leave.
IV. A Good Fit: Coming Home—Fit for Foreigners
I have never subscribed to the view that it is natural to want to return to one’s childhood home after living or working abroad. I prefer to see life as a series of sequential events that introduce us to new places and people. I felt no particular need to revisit my former homes in Britain or Germany after fourteen years in Hong Kong.
So, why are we now returning to the UK? The state of post-Brexit Britain is not a happy one; the economy is struggling, prices are high, taxes are high, unemployment is high, inflation is high, crime rates are high, the government is lurching from one crisis to the next, the National Health Service is in peril, and workers are striking. Why would anyone in their right mind want to move there?
Partly for negative reasons: continuing to live in an increasingly repressive, authoritarian, and fearful Hong Kong would have been much worse. There is more to life than simply taking what a city has to offer; true citizenship includes a responsibility to pay back into society in some form, and that is no longer an option in Hong Kong. With any form of unauthorised civic activity outlawed, remaining in Hong Kong 2.0 would involve survival in an alien environment, not living life to the full. For a freedom-loving individual brought up with a healthy disregard for pompous authority, life there had become intolerable.
And partly for positive reasons: British leaders may be idiotic, but at least democratically elected idiots can be voted out of office, in a process that allows citizens to participate in civil society and influence the conditions they live in.
Still, returning to the UK after some forty years abroad was a bit of a culture shock. But the difficulties I had readjusting to life in a normal civilised country only reflect just how abnormal Hong Kong has become in the last few years. Sitting on a crowded bus, I became aware of the people around me chatting, joking, and laughing. The trains and buses in Hong Kong are normally quiet these days, as travellers stare at their screens and try not to attract unwanted attention.
I was most surprised by how much more cosmopolitan Bristol is than Hong Kong. The authorities call Hong Kong “Asia’s World City,” but the majority of its citizens share the same small frame and slim Chinese features. Its athletes are not even allowed to play for the national team if they dye their hair or have tattoos. An inter-racial marriage such as ours was an abnormality in Hong Kong but it represents something closer to normality in the UK. I’m surprised by how much I like living here again. Coming home was unplanned but nevertheless welcome!
What’s not to like about Bristol? Nothing!
What should we do? Stay.
