Hong Kong Mobile : Making a Global Population [1 ed.] 9789888052301, 9789622099180

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Edited by Helen F. Siu and Agnes S. Ku

Supported by The 2022 Foundation and the Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences

Hong Kong University Press 14/F Hing Wai Centre 7 Tin Wan Praya Road Aberdeen Hong Kong

© Hong Kong University Press 2008 ISBN 978-962-209-918-0

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Printed and bound by Lammar Offset Printing Ltd., Hong Kong, China

Contents

List of Tables and Figures

vii

Foreword by Dr. Victor Fung

xiii

Acknowledgements

xv

Contributors

xvii

Introduction

1

Part I

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

9

1

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong Elizabeth Sinn

13

2

Where Guangdong Meets Shanghai: Hong Kong Culture in a Trans-regional Context May Bo Ching

45

3

Transborder Visuality: The Changing Patterns of Visual Exchange between Hong Kong and South China Eric Ma

63

Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

83

4

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future Richard Y. C. Wong and Ka-fu Wong

89

5

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” Helen F. Siu

117

6

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning Johannes M. M. Chan

149

Part II

vi

Contents

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation Janet Salaff *

201

Part III Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

223

8

Rethinking Colonial Institutions, Standards, Life Styles and Experiences David Faure

231

9

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong David A. Levin

247

10

Education Reforms and Social Mobility: Rethinking the History of Hong Kong Education Bernard Hung-kay Luk *

293

11

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? Wenbin Sun and Siu-lun Wong

327

12

The “Global City” as a Cultural Project: The Case of the West Kowloon Cultural District Agnes S. Ku *

343

13

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O Wing-hoi Chan

367

7

Conclusion: Whither Hong Kong and the Hong Konger?

397

Notes

401

References

447

Index

479

* For co-author(s), please see chapters

Tables and Figures

Chapter 1 Table 1 Table 2 Table 3 Figure 1

Figure 2

Chapter 3

Figure 1

Chapter 4 Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3 Figure 4 Figure 5 Figure 6 Figure 7

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong Chinese passengers through Hong Kong (1868–1939) Chinese emigrants to Singapore (1868–1939) Chinese emigrants from Singapore (1868–1939) Translated version of the regulations governing Chinese miners in California in Xia’er guanzhen (August, 1853) An advertisement recruiting Chinese labour for plantations in Louisiana in Zhongwai xinwen qiribao (15 April, 1871) Transborder Visuality: The Changing Patterns of Visual Exchange between Hong Kong and South China Mainland–Hong Kong connections in development of visual culture in South China The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future Hong Kong’s population by age groups, 1921–2031 Per capita income growth among cities and nations, 1990–2000 Ratio of Chinese females to males with less than seven years of residence Population with upper secondary and above education, 1990 and 2000 Population with university degree and above education, 1990 and 2000 The estimated probability of advancing to the next level of education Assumed distribution of education attainment of new Chinese male immigrants

15–17 24–25 26–27 34–35

38

80

90 94 99 101 102 108 110

viii

Tables and Figures

Figure 8 Figure 9 Figure 10 Table 1 Table 2 Table 3 Table 4 Table 5 Table 6 Table 7 Table 8

Table 9 Table 10

Table 11 Table 12

Table 13

Table 14

Table 15 Table 16 Table 17

Assumed distribution of education attainment of new Chinese female immigrants Projected percentage of degree-holders out of total population, 1976–2031, Hong Kong Public expenditures on education as percentage of GDP and total government expenditure, 2002 Hong Kong’s total population, 1961–2003 Percentage change in population by age group and gender, Hong Kong, 1961–2031 Percentage change in population from 1990 to 2000 for the seven cities Cumulative distribution of population by age group (%) by nations in 1990 and 2000 Cumulative distribution of population by age group (%) by cities in 1990 and 2000 Distribution of New York population by age and place of birth in 1990 and 2000 Distribution of Hong Kong population by age and place of birth in 1991 and 2001 Percentage of different groups (by place of birth) of population with a university degree, aged 15 to 59, New York City Percentage of population with a university degree, aged 15 to 59 by place of birth, New York City Percentage of different groups (by place of birth) of population with a university degree, aged 15 to 59, Hong Kong Percentage of population with a university degree, aged 15 to 59 by place of birth, Hong Kong Number of economically active persons, excluding domestic helpers, by place of birth in 1991, 1996 and 2001 Age distribution of economically active persons, excluding domestic helpers, by place of birth in 1991, 1996 and 2001 Proportion of economically active persons with a university degree, excluding domestic helpers, by place of birth in 1991, 1996 and 2001 Implied new-borns (aged 0–4) and immigrants (aged 5 and above), Hong Kong Projected number of degree-holders, 1976–2031 Projected percentage of degree-holders out of total population, 1976–2031

110 113 113 91 92 95 96 96 97 98 103

104 104

104 106

106

107

109 111 112

Tables and Figures

Chapter 5 Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3 Figure 4 Figure 5 Figure 6 Figure 7a

Figure 7b Figure 8a

Figure 8b Figure 9a Figure 9b Figure 10 Figure 11 Table 1 Table 2 Table 3 Table 4 Table 5

Table 6 Table 7 Table 8 Table 9a

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” Hong Kong’s estimated population, 1948–1996 Balance of arrivals and departures of immigrants from China Provincial origins of legal immigrants from China, 1991–1996 Number of residents with spouses in China Average number of cross-border marriages per year Education levels of Hong Kongers with spouses in China and the general Hong Kong population Total employment by sector of Hong Kong residents married in mainland China with spouses still living there, 1996 Total employment by sector of Hong Kong, 1996 Employment by job description: Hong Kong residents married in mainland China with spouses still living there, 1996 Employment by job description: Total employed population of Hong Kong, 1996 Categories of persons who came to Hong Kong by obtaining one-way permits, 1991–2000 Total number of persons who came to Hong Kong by obtaining one-way permits, 1991–2000 Number of PMRs as percentage of the whole population, 1991, 1996, 2001 Spousal reunions, by time of marriage and native place, 1970–2004 History of one-way permit quota Proportion of PMRs by district council district, 2001 Labour force participation rate (15–64 age group) Proportion of PMRs aged 5 and older able to speak selected language/dialects, 2001 Proportion of PMRs aged 15 and older by gender and educational attainment (highest level attended), 1991, 1996, 2001 PMRs in the labour force by gender, 1991, 1996, 2001 Proportion of working PMRs aged 15 and older by occupation, 1991, 1996, 2001 Proportion of working PMRs aged 15 and older by industry, 1991, 1996, 2001 Proportion of working PMRs aged 15 and older by monthly income (from main employment, 1991, 1996, 2001)

ix

119 119 125 126 126 127 127

128 128

129 129 130 130 137 121 122 131 131 132

133 133 134 134

x

Tables and Figures

Table 9b

Table 12

Median monthly domestic household income of domestic households with PMRs and all domestic household, 1991, 1996, 2001 Number of one-way permits issued for Guangdong and Fujian (01 January 2001–30 June 2004) Children of permanent Hong Kong residents and children who came with a parent General features of Guangdong’s municipalities, 1990

Chapter 6 Table 1 Table 2 Table 3 Table 4 Table 5 Table 6 Table 7

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning Growth of population, 1841–2006 Illegal immigrants into Hong Kong, 1977–1980 Population forecast in 1998 Actual population growth rate, 1998–2006 Fertility rate, 1981–2001 Population composition (age) of Hong Kong Applications for Talents Schemes

Chapter 7

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation Immigration to Canada from Hong Kong, males aged 24–45, 1980–1996 How many stayed in Canada? Children’s residence by parents’ residence Desired residence for children by parents’ residence

Table 10 Table 11

Figure 1 Figure 2 Table 1 Table 2 Chapter 9 Table 1 Table 2 Table 3

Table A1 Table A2 Table A3 Table A4 Table A5

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong Employed professionals (thousands) Number of visas issued under the general employment policy 1996–2004 Results of qualifying examinations for non-locally trained medical practitioners and solicitors, selected years Distribution of professionals by activity status, 1991, 1996 and 2001 Distribution of professionals by main industry, 1991, 1996 and 2001 Distribution of professionals by sex Distribution of professionals by place of birth Types and number of organizations in the non-profit sector

135

137 138 139

152 160 175 175 176 176 178

203 203 214 214

248 270 272

276 276 277 277 278

Tables and Figures

Table A6 Table A7

Number of professional associations/learned societies by field Medical and health: Establishments & employment as of March 2005

Chapter 10 Education Reforms and Social Mobility: Rethinking the History of Hong Kong Education Table 1 Proportion of population claiming a knowledge of English, 1931–2001 Chapter 11 Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? Figure 1 % of newly incorporated and % of dissolution over the existing stock Figure 2 % of newly incorporated and % of GDP one year ago Figure 3 Total entrepreneurial activity in Hong Kong by age and income Figure 4 Aspiration for setting up own business Table 1 Companies registry — Table of statistics Table 2 Average annual percentages over the period Table 3 Total entrepreneurial activity in 31 economies Table 4 Preference to set up one’s own business Table 5 Views on the most possible and promising career paths Table 6 Economically active persons who had plan/intention to set up own business in the coming twelve months by economic sector of the business desired Table 7 Problem anticipated in setting up own business Chapter 13 A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O Table 1 Census information for Tai O, 1961 and 1971

xi

279 281

315

330 330 334 337 329 330 333 335 336 339

339

374

Foreword

How Competitive Is Hong Kong? Until recently, this burning question has been answered largely by an evaluation of “fixed assets” or “stocks,” such as our airport, our port, our geographical position, our legal and regulatory system, and our people. Essential though stocks are, they are not the whole story; they cannot be studied independently of flows, as the two so intertwine and closely complement each other. Yet, our understanding of flows — of people, goods, funds, ideas and information which includes tastes, imaginings and meanings — is only just beginning, and one cannot emphasize enough the urgent need for more rigorous exploration of the subject. This book foregrounds the concept of flows and, in particular, the circulatory nature of flows. Since the mid-19th century, Hong Kong’s advantage has been to a large extent based on the ease and energy with which through movements occur. We may even say that the Hong Kong story is largely an account of how the infrastructure facilitates flows and how flows enrich and revitalize stocks. The concept of flows allows us to minimize the mental strictures imposed by physical, administrative, legal and cultural boundaries, allowing a remapping of a landscape that highlights networks and channels of movement, and flexibility of strategic positioning based on porous borders. In human resources terms, thinking about flows opens our eyes to our connectivity with the catchment area from which talents could be drawn and how they could be absorbed, mobilized, channeled and invigorated for our interest. In short, it allows a new formulation, which is an open, dynamic and inclusive approach, to the problem of competitiveness. It is time to remove blinkers. Policy-makers and academics often do not engage each other enough; even academics of different disciplines seldom interact. But, as we all know, most complex issues require a multidisciplinary solution. As such, this book sets an example. The anthropologists, historians, economists, sociologists, educationists, legal and media scholars who contribute to it bring together different data, mindsets and analytical tools to shed light on a very complex reality. The result is a

xiv

Foreword

kaleidoscopic image of reality reflecting layers of historical, cultural, economic and social developments, revealing strengths and weaknesses, opportunities and missed opportunities. The book shows the interconnectedness of seemingly unconnected things, the interdependence between vastly different aspects of Hong Kong society, and the underlying relations between “internal” and “external” factors, between the local and the global. It shows the attitudes, policies and mechanisms that generate and stifle flows, the shifting directions and changing intensity of flows, the diverse levels at which flows occur, and, most significantly, the constant interplay between flows and stocks. Such knowledge provides a useful basis for policy making which, after all, cannot be viable without a deep understanding of the possibilities and limitations of change, underscoring the simple fact that broad-based knowledge is indispensable however narrowly defined any policy focus might be. The research for this book was sponsored by The 2022 Foundation, a non-profit foundation dedicated to improving understanding of Hong Kong in its long-term developmental trajectories. On behalf of the Foundation, I would like to thank Professors Helen Siu, David Faure and Richard Wong Yu-chim and their collaborators for their dedicated efforts and inspiring findings. I sincerely hope this book will reinforce the concept of flows as a paradigm in academic and policy thinking and, on another level, serve as a model for future multi-disciplinary collaboration between academic research and policy making.

Dr. Victor Fung Chairman of The 2022 Foundation Ltd.

Contributors

xix

Eric Ma is Professor in School of Journalism and Communication at The Chinese University of Hong Kong. He has written Culture, Politics and Television in Hong Kong (Routledge, 1999) and co-authored Hong Kong, China: Learning to Belong to a Nation (Routledge, 2007). Janet Salaff, a sociologist, is Professor Emerita of University of Toronto, and Honorary Research Fellow at the Centre of Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong. She studies how economic changes affect family life, how women’s roles are changing as their roles both at work and at home are evolving, and the factors that are affecting migration patterns into and out of Asia. Salaff has authored or edited seven books including Working Daughters of Hong Kong: Filial Piety or Power in the Family? (Columbia University Press, 1995). Elizabeth Sinn, currently Honorary Associate Professor of Centre of Asian Studies at The University of Hong Kong, publishes on the history of Modern China, Hong Kong, and Chinese Overseas. Her latest article, “Women at Work: Chinese Brothel Keepers in 19th Century Hong Kong,” is published by The Journal of Women’s History in Fall 2007. She is writing a book on Chinese migration and is special consultant to the “Hong Kong Memory Project.” Wenbin Sun is Honorary Research Fellow of Centre of Asian Studies at The University of Hong Kong. Her publications include “The Development of Private Enterprise in Contemporary China: Institutional Foundations and Limitations,” in The China Review, Vol. 2, Number 2, Fall 2002; “Survey Analysis on Family Enterprises in the PRC,” in Zhang Houyi et al. (eds) 2002 Blue Book of Private Enterprises (Beijing: Social Sciences Documentation Publishing House, 2002); and PRC 2000 Economics Blue Book (English Edition) (Centre of Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, jointly published with M. E. Sharpe, 2001). Ka-fu Wong is currently a teaching fellow at the School of Economics and Finance at The University of Hong Kong. His research interests include applied econometrics, international economics, labor economics, and regulatory economics. He has developed more than twenty teaching cases on regulatory issues in Hong Kong and China industries, published by the Asia Case Research Centre. Richard Y. C. Wong is Deputy Vice-Chancellor and Professor of Economics at The University of Hong Kong. His main research interests are competition, regulation, and economic development. His current projects include the

Acknowledgements

This study, a team effort, has been supported by The 2022 Foundation. We would like to thank the Foundation’s sponsors: CLP Holdings Limited, Dah Sing Bank, Esquel Group, Hang Seng Bank, Hong Kong Dragon Airlines Limited, Hong Kong Land Limited, Hong Kong Pearl River Delta Foundation, Hysan Development Company Limited, iTVentures Limited, Kerry Holdings Limited, Li & Fung Group, and Sun Hung Kai Properties Limited. Our gratitude also goes to individuals from the sponsoring organizations who have generously given us time and advice, including Andrew Brandler, Vincent H. C. Cheng, David Eldon, Victor K. Fung, Stanley Hui, Kuok Khoon Chen, Raymond Kwok, Peter T. C. Lee, York Liao, Nicholas Sallnow-Smith, Steve Tait, David Wong, Marjorie Yang, and Gabriel C. M. Yu. Dr. Victor Fung, in particular, has kindly written a foreword for the study. The views expressed in this volume are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of The 2022 Foundation or its sponsors. We acknowledge the continuous engagement of colleagues and friends who have served as team members in research and writing, as discussants or participants in a conference we organized on January 6, 2006 at The University of Hong Kong and, as co-authors of chapters. They are Carolyn Cartier, Anita Chan, Edward Kwan-yiu Chen, Edgar Cheng, Peter Cheung, Ginnie Choi, Choi Po-king, Audrey Eu, Henry Fan, Jianxiong Ge, Leo F. Goodstadt, Arent Greve, Ho Shung-pun, Leo Ou-Fan Lee, Fiona Li, Angel Lin, George C. S. Lin, Tik-sang Liu, Audrey Lo, Christine Loh, Kam Louie, Chun-hung Ng, Margaret Ng, Angela Shik, Alvin So, Paul Tam, Robert Tang, T. L. Tsim, Clarence Hon-chee Tsui, Gungwu Wang, Wong Pingman, Thomas W. P. Wong, Chris Yeung, Kwok-leung Yu, and David Zweig. We also thank Dr. Nien Dak Sze, Ka-mun Chang and Teresa Lam for supporting and facilitating our project from the very beginning. In the last three years, the Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce, South China Morning Post, the Faculty of Business and Economics of The University of Hong Kong, Council on East Asian Studies of Yale University, the History Department of The Chinese University of Hong Kong and the Hong Kong Central Library, have given our team ample opportunities to present and refine our analyses.

xvi

Acknowledgements

Our appreciation is extended to Oliver Chou, John Church, Diane Law, Venus Lee, Kay Mansfield, Mary Slethaug, Emily Ip, Natalie Wong, Connie Yan Lijun, and Yukiko Tonoike for their professional contributions to the production of this document. We thank the anonymous reviewer for the thoughtful suggestions to improve the manuscript. We are indebted to Dr. Colin Day, Publisher of Hong Kong University Press, for not losing faith in the project. Last but not least, we thank the Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences at The University of Hong Kong, for providing the necessary institutional support.

Helen F. Siu and Agnes S. Ku (for the team)

Contributors

Helen F. Siu is Professor of Anthropology at Yale University. She has conducted long-term field research in South China and Hong Kong. Her publications include Mao’s Harvest: Voices of China’s New Generation, co-editor Zelda Stern (Oxford, 1983); Agents and Victims in South China: Accomplices in Rural Revolution (Yale, 1989); Furrows: Peasants, Intellectuals and the State (Stanford, 1990); Down to Earth: The Territorial Bond in South China, co-editor David Faure (Stanford, 1995); Empire at the Margins: Culture, Ethnicity and Frontier in Early Modern China, co-editors Pamela Kyle Crossley and Donald S. Sutton (University of California, 2006), and SARS: Reception and Interpretation in Three Chinese Cities, co-editor Deborah Davis (Routledge, 2007). Agnes S. Ku is Associate Professor of Social Science at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. She is also affiliated with the Center for Cultural Sociology at Yale University. Her research interests include cultural sociology, civil society, citizenship, Hong Kong studies, gender and urban issues. Her publications include Narratives, Politics, and the Public Sphere: Struggles over Political Reform in the Final Transitional Years in Hong Kong (1992–1994) (Ashgate, 1999); Remaking Citizenship in Hong Kong: Community, Nation and the Global City, co-editor Ngai Pun (Routledge, 2004). Johannes M. M. Chan is Dean of the Faculty of Law at The University of Hong Kong. He specializes in human rights, constitutional and administrative law. He practices as a barrister and is the first Honorary Senior Counsel in Hong Kong. Professor Chan has published widely in both local and international journals. Wing-hoi Chan is Assistant Professor in the Department of Mathematics, Science, Social Sciences and Technology at The Hong Kong Institute of Education. An anthropologist, Chan focuses on kinship and marriage in South China, the political contexts of ethnic identities, nationalism in travel writing in the 1930s, and the cultural meanings of village food since the 1990s. Recent publications include “Migration and ethnic identities in a mountainous region: the case of ‘She bandits’,” in Empire at the Margins:

xviii Contributors

Culture, Ethnicity and Frontier in Early Modern China (University of California Press, 2006); “Hakka discourse as a nationalist enterprise: A Hong Kong perspective on the changing nature of Hakka identity in modern China,” in The Hakka in Hong Kong (in Chinese; Guangxi Normal University Press, 2005). May Bo Ching is Professor of History at Sun Yat-sen University. Her major research interest is the social and cultural history of modern China. Her recent publications include Regional Culture and National Identity: The Shaping of “Guangdong Culture” since the Late Qing (in Chinese; Beijing: Joint Publishing House, 2006) which discusses changes in the articulation of regional identity against the rise of nationalism. Her current projects include a preliminary study of the introduction of natural history drawings and knowledge into China since the late eighteenth century and a social history of Cantonese opera from the 1860s to 1950s. David Faure is Professor of History at The Chinese University in Hong Kong. He specializes in social and economic history from the Ming dynasty to the Second World War, and the history of Hong Kong. His publications include Colonialism and the Hong Kong Mentality (Centre of Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, 2003); A Documentary History of Hong Kong, Vol. 3 Economy, co-editor Pui-tak Lee (Hong Kong University Press, 2004); China and Capitalism, A History of Business Enterprise in Modern China (Hong Kong University Press, 2006); Emperor and Ancestor: State and Lineage in South China (Stanford University Press, 2007). David A. Levin retired as Senior Lecturer in the Department of Sociology, The University of Hong Kong, in 2002. He was appointed in 2003 as Visiting Associate Professor in the Faculty of Business and Economics, The University of Hong Kong, and as Visiting Professor in the Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences during 2004–06. He has published on labor, industrial relations, and human resource management issues in Hong Kong. Bernard Hung-kay Luk’s broad-ranging scholarly profile covers history, culture, religion, humanities, Hong Kong studies, history of education, and comparative education. He has written or co-authored nine books and more than forty academic articles, in either Chinese or English. His recent book is From Banyan Tree to the Computer: The Story of Education in Hong Kong (in Chinese; Stepforward Press, 2003). He joined the Hong Kong Institute of Education in 2003 as Vice President (Academic), and has returned to York University, Canada since 2007.

xx

Contributors

integration and development of the Pearl River Delta and Yangzi River Delta regions, and the political economy of laissez faire in Hong Kong. Siu-lun Wong, a sociologist, is currently Director of Centre of Asian Studies at The University of Hong Kong. His research interests include the study of entrepreneurship, business networks, migration, social indicators, and the development of sociology in China. He is the author of Emigrant Entrepreneurs: Shanghai Industrialists in Hong Kong (Oxford University Press, 1988) and co-editor of Indicators of Social Development: Hong Kong 2004 (Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, 2006).

Introduction

Based on a shared interest in the past and present positioning of Hong Kong’s population, an interdisciplinary team of anthropologists, economists, historians, sociologists, educators, media and legal scholars embarked on this project in June 2004. The 2022 Foundation supported the study. The Foundation has previously commissioned a series of studies on Hong Kong, which are focused primarily on the hardware of the territory’s development and related issues of competitiveness — economic resources, infrastructural change, and environmental relationships with the Pearl River delta. Building on these works, this study proposes to explore important software — the making of Hong Kong’s human landscape. We shall focus on the diasporic historical experiences of those who have come and gone, and the intimate decisions and structural factors for those who have chosen to stay. Accumulated institutional resources which have interwoven with the aspirations and lives of these “Hong Kongers” will also be explored. The government has recently taken the lead in seeking strategic ways to combine investments in hardware and human software.1 From a policy angle, one might ask how the softer attributes have contributed to the character of Hong Kong’s human resources. As basic researchers, we are less interested in what policies would directly induce behavior intended to make Hong Kong competitive. Instead, we want to understand how Hong Kong as a changing physical and institutional “space” has allowed different groups of people to maximize their potential when pursuing diverse agenda in life. In the process, how have they engaged with “Hong Kong” and contributed to the advancement of the region as a whole? Have historical advantages become vulnerabilities today? Can these experiences be significant factors in building their future? The team’s interim report, published in October 2005, highlights human resource topics that address policy and business communities more directly.2 Its arguments have attracted diverse responses. Victor Fung and David Eldon, global business leaders, have referred to its findings. The government has responded critically to some details and paid close attention to others.3 Members of the team were invited to present the issues in public forums.4 Debates aside, it is generally recognized that Hong Kong is a city

2

Introduction

precariously poised at the crossroads of a globally connected world and an aggressively marketizing China. The emergence of the Pearl River Delta as a world factory in China’s post-reform era might appear threatening to Hong Kong’s future, but challenges come with opportunities. Victor Fung, chairman of the Greater Pearl River Delta Business Council, stresses that competitiveness relies on Hong Kong’s people and on allowing diverse talents from the mainland and abroad to flow freely through the territory.5 International financial corporations are particularly concerned with the supply of quality workers for their business operations in the new era. Many have felt the dire need in Hong Kong at professional levels, although they are not blind to the structural difficulties for those at the lower end of the labor hierarchy and are mindful of the political implications in immigration and labor schemes. The problems Hong Kong faces are multidimensional, and the demands on its resources can, at times, be contentious. “We have a very broad need, and we need broad solutions,” says David Eldon, former Asia Pacific chairman of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation, and former chairman of the Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce. Proactive, holistic, and non–ad hoc actions are necessary, he warns, and any delay will dampen Hong Kong’s future ambitions.6 Local media have echoed this sense of urgency to nurture and attract talent. In a lead article in the South China Morning Post, “Dressed to Skill,” editor Chris Yeung brings together government, business, and academic voices to highlight the need to rethink policy assumptions and parameters.7 In August 2006, an editorial team of the South China Morning Post published a “white paper” containing a synthesis of views expressed in forums in which business and community leaders had participated. In emphasizing the urgency for reform in Hong Kong and highlighting a source of competitiveness as being a desirable place to live and work, the document captures the spirit of our people-focused agenda.8 Despite alarming indices on Hong Kong’s work force and its perceived quality decline, business leaders believe that the talk of the territory’s marginalization is premature. Crucial questions are how to involve its people and their “can-do” spirit proactively and in deeply institutional and cultural ways, and how to support those who have the potential and the will to take bold steps forward.9 This volume of essays complements the interim report and addresses the above business concerns by appreciating the broad structural processes that have contributed to the making of Hong Kong’s human landscape. Who are our subjects? In our efforts to situate Hong Kong’s historically fluid and multi-ethnic populations — local-born residents, expatriates, immigrants, emigrants and returnees, guest workers, visitors, and citizensin-the-making, we hope to redefine the subjects of research, the issues posed

Introduction

3

and some policy parameters. We ask what underlies our conceptual category of “Hong Konger” as a target population. Can “Hong Kong” experiences be confined to a physically bounded and administratively defined place? How can “Hong Kong studies” as a field of research be extended and reconstituted to serve broader policy needs? We stress the complex and fluid processes that make up the categories and the necessary recognition of porous borders in physical and conceptual terms. It helps us appreciate Hong Kong’s flexible positioning, that is, how its various “populations” have cultivated layers of China experiences to face the world, and how they have captured layers of global resources to engage with China. If our human subjects are moving targets whose characteristics are in constant flux, it follows that hard and static categories that distinguish Hong Kong and its legally defined residents from “outsiders” may blind us from the subjects’ historical experiences, shifting identities, and social needs. These categories also prevent us from asking pertinent analytical questions, from collecting precise data to formulating strategic policies. Instead, we may wish to consider Hong Kong’s nodal significance in the crossroads of empires, trading and diasporic communities, world industrial assembly lines, and now global consumption, media, and finance markets. The field of inquiry will expand and contract with the footprints of capital, commodities, and most important, those inside and outside the territory who claim to be part of the global, regional, or local flow. An interesting policy implication follows: to analytically capture the social fluidities, should our understanding of Hong Kong’s human resource be refocused, from issues of immigration and emigration that assume hard administrative/legal divisions, to those of circulation? Because interdisciplinary research on Hong Kong is often lacking, the team would like to use the project to develop a critical mass of scholars who question existing conceptual paradigms. Together, they hope to set a new agenda, linking the humanities to social sciences, juxtaposing soft data with hard issues, and making basic research relevant to policy thinking.

Circulation as a Conceptual Parameter The chapters in the volume are organized into three groups to highlight the concept of circulation. To us, the circulation idea does not juxtapose interests within the Hong Kong territory against a fixed, imaginary “outside.” Instead, it highlights processes by which cross-border fluidities and institutional integrity have been mutually constitutive. Multiple layers of experience, be they micro decisions of family formation, or the pursuit of global careers

4

Introduction

and political agenda, have been constructed in contexts extending far beyond the physical or administrative boundary of Hong Kong. They are crystallized by ordering frames of trading empires, colonial encounters, industrial economies, and regional political systems. In spatial terms, they are borderless and non-hierarchical. In social and cultural terms, they are organically and creatively “hybrid.” The first group of chapters (Sinn, Ching, Ma) uses lessons of history to argue that Hong Kong has thrived as an autonomous space of flow. The process has allowed the territory to capture multi-ethnic talents from trading communities around the globe and in China, and enhance its footprints and horizons. One might have entertained clearly defined legal statuses among the populations in the territory, with entitlements and exclusions based on administrative criteria, but in physical, social, and cultural terms, historically and now, hard lines could not have been drawn easily. A historical process approach is important where rapid structural changes are in fact a constant in the context of global volatility. It requires that we understand how Hong Kong, over the years, has been a site of significance for different people, with livelihoods and values attached. These layers of history make up the institutional resources of a population who continue to be entrepreneurial in their livelihoods, contingent in cultural constitution, and vocal in aspirations of citizenship. At different junctures of Hong Kong’s engagement and separation with the world and with China, the social kaleidoscope churns with intensity and richness. A unique “multiethnic city culture on the move” has emerged with a human landscape that defies rigid categorization. Sensitivities to these historical processes allow us to get to the social complexities beneath ideology or rhetoric.10 If policy thinking is involved, a question to ask is how to uncover hidden cultural capital and vulnerability in this layered historical process. The answer may help us decide what collective memories to preserve, how to nurture political attachment, and most important, how to make Hong Kong attractive to a diverse range of visitors in the future. Hong Kong’s rich historical experiences and global networks are cumulative, based on the continuous circulation of its population, be they sojourners, residents, or those briefly passing through. Appreciating such a process today allows us to treat Hong Kong’s boundaries as multi-faceted and flexible, both in time and space, not to pose population policy in dichotomous terms between local-born and outsider, and to take the nurturing of human resources beyond the limited importation of foreign talents. The postwar decades, however, generated a different experience. The composition of “Hong Kongers” in fact remains rather fluid. As shown by the second group of chapters (Wong and Wong, Siu, Chan, Salaff) there have been continuous waves of legal and illegal immigrants from China

Introduction

5

and of emigration overseas. The waves in the immediate postwar years provided key conditions for Hong Kong’s development. They brought a large, young labor force and a diverse pool of talents. Educational and vocational investments by the government and private charities elevated this work force. The process turned immigrant experiences into mainstream society and core identities. However, the low fertility rate and restricted immigration policies in the following decades created a deep impact on the demographic structure and labor market. Compared to major world cities and those in China today, Hong Kong’s population is ageing, and its talents are becoming less diverse. Emigration of middle-class families in anticipation of the 1997 political transition deepened the shortage. Although cross-border marriages between Hong Kong and the mainland accelerated since the 1980s, the presence of dependent spouses and children who constituted “the new immigrants” has not matched the expectations of a postmanufacturing economy undergoing tumultuous changes. Returnee families have agonized over their share of truncated lives and career trajectories. If Hong Kong is a place with real but porous borders that hardened and softened at various times in relation to a fluid regional context, we may wish to rethink our tools in defining the Hong Konger. Instead of assuming a static, one-off change in legal/administrative status of individuals in the immigration process whereby an outsider is transformed into a legal resident with rights and entitlements attached, policy questions may need to be sensitive to the circulation of individuals and families whose life cycle needs necessitate border crossing at various stages of their education, family formation, and careers. A related concept that needs rethinking is “the family.” Education, work, and mobility are highly gendered and intimately related to family dynamics. Foreign domestic helpers, over the affluent decades since the 1980s, have become integral to local family processes and the upbringing of children, especially among middle-class households whose values have become societal mainstream. These helpers have allowed Hong Kong women to pursue their professions, although foreign domestic employment often reinforces racial, gender, and class prejudices. Family processes are shaped also by emigration. Anxiety surrounding the change of sovereignty created split families among not only new immigrants but also educated middle classes who emigrated abroad. The language of instruction in schools is a politically loaded issue for patriots, but it is also emotionally charged for parents concerned with their children’s future. Among family enterprises, cultural capital is no longer linked to ethnic networks, but strategic global investment, including the cosmopolitan education of the successor generation. “Family,” and increasingly, split families, continue to be relevant in Hong Kong’s modern social fabric. It is timely to critically rethink our

6

Introduction

analytic assumptions of its changing meanings and substance, and how the increasingly cross-border dynamics in its formation and dissolution have an impact on our immigration and social policies.11 The third group of chapters (Faure, Levin, Luk, Wong and Sun, Ku, and Chan) shows the intersection between circulation and institution, flow and growth, and the socially differentiated terrain that has resulted. They highlight institutional processes that have been built up over time to facilitate Hong Kong as a vibrant space of flow. These processes absorb, educate, retune, and support both the immigrants and a stable, locally born generation. Every society has its share of poverty and misfortune, but the integrity of these institutions has allowed Hong Kong to be competitive in the region, not only in attracting investments and businesses, but also in circulating and nurturing its needed entrepreneurial and professional talents. The question we ask is whether, at this juncture when China is liberalizing its economy and global forces are increasingly volatile, Hong Kong’s institutional environment is adequate to reshape a human landscape for a new round of flexible positioning. Hong Kong’s past advantages might very well be its vulnerabilities at the present moment. In the face of post-1997 social strife, public debates have centered on the predicament of Hong Kong’s middle class and its loss of self-confidence. The social mobility, entrepreneurial opportunities, and professional openness of this population — all related to the theme of circulation — are the major concerns today. In the postwar decades, a home-grown generation — beneficiaries of the growth in educational investment and an emerging service economy — has experienced unprecedented social mobility within a narrow range of competition. The professional practices and values of this generation have taken center stage in Hong Kong’s cultural and institutional environments. As shown in the previous group of chapters in this volume, there has been a continuous circulation of immigrants from China and emigration overseas, not to mention the movement of hundreds of thousands of Southeast Asian domestic workers who have profoundly changed the dynamics of families, work, and gender in Hong Kong. Nonetheless, the belief that a homegrown generation of Hong Kongers has made it on its own has long been the conviction of the public. Scholars of Hong Kong society and culture have also consistently presented a powerful narrative of the success of families “under the Lion Rock,” whose hard work and resilience were believed to have been the backbone of Hong Kong’s postwar affluence. Closed off from China and functionally engaged with the industrial world through assembly-line production in the postwar decades, a generation of migrant families worked extremely hard and produced enough vocationally trained children to fuel

Introduction

7

a postindustrial service economy. With distinctly localized concerns and cultural tastes, thriving on the refined craft of speculative real estate and entrepreneurial gain, and tuned to a relatively disciplined and “clean” public service, this generation made a confident transition to white collar and professional jobs. The window of opportunity for these Hong Kongers was possible when China was remote and the world demanded only superficial and technical engagement. The environment (political, institutional, cultural, and economic) has drastically changed since China’s economic liberalization in the 1980s. This has made the established formula for social advancement uncertain. In a recent work, sociologists Lui Tai Lok and Wong Chi Tsang poignantly present the harsh realities faced by this sinking middle class.12 Moreover, from our demographic profiles, the generation of those in their 30s is thin in number. Many now need to face the challenges of a much larger regional economy. The structural changes in the territory’s post-1997 economy and the rapid northward movement of logistics and support industries for the manufacturing boom in China have profoundly threatened the livelihoods of an entire white-collar generation. The crucial questions are: when the regional economies are set in motion by China’s post-socialist reforms, will Hong Kongers who remain locally entrenched be irrelevant?13 If Hong Kong’s middle class is shrinking and sinking, how must the government replenish and re-orient this crucial layer of the human landscape so that they will provide the vital professional support, civic practices, and stability for a more globally competitive future? In view of the fact that a large percentage of those who marched on July 1, 2003 were from an educated middle class generation, there is an urgent task to understand their predicaments.14 The issue of a new orientation and identity is a focus of this group of chapters. The uncertain positioning of Hong Kong today illuminates the volatile nature of urban public space, a feature shared by many cities that are significant nodes in the global economy. Apart from the glitter of international finance and the intense flow of commodities and information, a diverse cultural life — from localized family and religious rituals, community festivals, museums, and cultural heritage, to cosmopolitan performing arts, film and media images — adds color and vibrancy to the postindustrial cityscape. Increasingly, city governments worldwide have embarked on a policy of urban entrepreneurialism that involves an intense marketing of local culture in a global space.15 This cultural capital also gives meaning to a new sense of belonging and citizenship. In this process, we highlight an interesting contradiction about cities and citizenship. The boundaries of world cities today are by nature porous. Moreover, to be globally connected, national governments need to invest heavily in the infrastructure of their cities and are

8

Introduction

understandably eager to maintain a degree of control. It is important to appreciate such a contradiction for Hong Kong in light of post-1997 politics.16 When identities attached to a place are deterritorized, how does one mark target populations and assess their rights, commitments, and responsibilities? To understand the making (and unmaking) of Hong Kong’s human landscape, this volume of essays argues, we rethink our conceptual and administrative parameters; consider circulation and not immigration; imagine a border that hardens and softens at different historical junctures through which various populations flow; treat populations as families with life cycle needs at different points in time; appreciate the unique institutional resources that they have accumulated to serve a wider region; activate interstitial urban spaces that extend beyond physical barriers and administrative impositions. In human resource terms, maximum circulation of a diverse range of talents and their ideas through the territory may be crucial for a trade and finance services economy that is bound to be increasingly global and unsettling. As indicated in the three-part organization of the volume, circulation of populations and institutional coherence are not diametrically opposed. They are mutually constitutive and should be conceptualized as a paired process. While the earlier chapters highlight movement across borders, the chapters that follow delineate the accumulated institutional resources that have absorbed various waves of immigrants. These resources have allowed them to settle in the territory, to pursue their life chances and to enjoy social mobility. With the integrity of Hong Kong’s institutions vigorously upheld, those who enter and exit the territory during different phases of their education, lives, and careers may continue to enjoy a level playing field and be able to contribute value to Hong Kong society. They will also connect the territory to regional and global environments. To strategically plan this intensified circulation beyond Hong Kong’s borders, we must have a deeper understanding of the positioning of Hong Kong’s population in global and regional environments (not only in terms of physical proximity and infrastructure, but in layers of culture, historical identities, and commitments of the populations attached to it, past and present). If we focus only on their physically and administratively bounded selves within the Special Administrative Region, we might have missed a large percentage of what Hong Kong is about. The concept of circulation may help us better differentiate the changing human landscape and social ethos, anticipate the fluid structural circumstances in which major stakeholders find themselves, and appreciate their diverse ways of acquiring and depositing social capital.

Part I

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

10

Part I — Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

The volume starts with the conceptual assumption that Hong Kong as a unit of analysis may not be treated as a physically bounded crucible that contains a particular population at a given time. Instead, various populations relate to the “place” with economic interests, political commitments, social networks, and cultural imaginations that extend far beyond the limited physical space that is administratively defined.1 Historically, as Elizabeth Sinn stresses, Hong Kong has thrived as “a space of flow.” 2 Various populations drawn from the Chinese diaspora and a broader regional context have deposited layers of meaning, value, and memory as they moved through the territory. Their lives and interests became engaged with the place and its evolving institutions. Sinn delineates when Hong Kong became a free port under British rule in 1842 and how it joined a number of global processes. In the decades that followed, it became involved in network building. The ability to facilitate through-movement made it the predominant hub for Chinese migrants to circulate in the mid-nineteenth century, an indispensable “in-between place” in the Chinese diaspora. The openness of the market was an essential ingredient as the new shipping routes created for immigrants added new markets for trade. Ships destined for California transported, besides emigrants, granite, silk, and tea for the American trade, whereas on their return journey, they carried returning emigrants, ginseng, quick silver, timber, and wheat flour. Thus the two aspects of Hong Kong’s entrepôt function — the through traffic of goods and people, became inextricably merged. Other development followed. Hong Kong, as Sinn observes, became the primary channel for Chinese remittance from overseas and a hub for the California trade (known in Chinese as the Gold Mountain Trade) in a wide range of goods, from medicine and joss sticks, to prepared opium and Cantonese opera. Wealthy merchants also invested in Hong Kong properties because of laws in the colony that offered protection. It was in Hong Kong that the vision of a global, transnational Chinese community first appeared and was publicized in the Chinese language media. Those attracted to it found it a relatively safe and benevolent place because of the colonial government, the legal framework, and the active role of Chinese merchants in leading community affairs. Whether in preparing opium, raising funds globally to relieve famines in China, or organizing the repatriation of deceased emigrants’ bones, the merchants in Hong Kong were seen by Chinese communities overseas as doing things in the right way — authentic, effective, in good taste. With the legal and economic infrastructure that it accumulated over time, Hong Kong provided an institutional environment in which human agency was maximized in its mobility. Being an in-between place shaped the vision of its people. Broadening their general outlook and

Part I — Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

11

intellectual horizon, such an experience heightened their sense of the possible. With the openness and porousness of its borders, residents became accustomed to looking beyond conventional barriers and seeing China and the outside world as equally accessible, thus positioning Hong Kong centrally as the hub for circulation. Historian May Bo Ching has also observed Hong Kong’s past global connections, made by and provided for those who came and went. To evaluate Hong Kong’s positioning for its residents, past and present, a regional cultural context is essential. For some years, however, textbooks and museum displays have presented Hong Kong’s past as a “barren rock” with natural waters where fishermen of mythical ethnic origin moored, and, in the nineteenth century, imbued it with an equally essentialized “Western culture.” The complicated, more down-to-earth regional bond that was centered on Guangzhou and the Pearl River delta, linked to strategic military outposts guarding the entrance to the delta and to worldly mercantile traditions in Shanghai and the intercultural practices across the globe, has been overlooked.3 Since the eighteenth century, Guangdong produced a range of commodities for European markets. Foreign business practices, cultural styles, and global horizons had long ago been introduced to the merchant communities in Guangzhou and Hong Kong and creatively blended with those in the region.4 By the 1920s, Ching argues in her chapter, established Guangdong merchants in Shanghai patronized their native place activities through their regional associations, martial arts and athletic societies, theaters, and department stores. It was under these circumstances in Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Hong Kong, in a spirit of openness and adventure, that instrumental music, songs, and operas identified as Cantonese flourished. New artistic talents, supported by cosmopolitan mercantile interests, absorbed fresh nutrients from Western and other regional traditions.5 These cultural energies gave the region a competitive edge as China’s window to the world. It allowed Hong Kong residents and business interests a hinterland far beyond Hong Kong’s physical and administrative boundaries. In other words, Hong Kong’s fortunes were mapped onto a “footprint” as large as the horizons of its diverse residents would stretch. We see this ease in cultural blending as Hong Kong’s vital resource early on in its history. It facilitated an encompassing environment. Residents strategically used different cultural codes of conduct for economic survival and social advancement. Hybridity, with its slightly negative connotation, would not have done justice to the region’s historical experience. Eric Ma focuses on advertising and lifestyle magazines in South China today to illuminate the changing impact of Hong Kong on China’s new consumer culture. Since the 1980s, the interplay of Hong Kong/South China

12

Part I — Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

cultural industries has not been just a mere copying or mixing of images, but a transfer of visual production tactics that is consumer-driven and sensitive to urban lifestyles and global capitalism. A more thorough understanding of this cross-border dynamic may help the repositioning of Hong Kongers in competitive co-operation with counterparts in mainland cities in the area of advertising, design, and publishing. This process of building cultural capital may enhance Hong Kong’s footprint, create new open “spaces,” and attract diverse talents on both sides of a disappearing border. Although set in the post-reform era in the first decade of the new century, the building of cross-border cultural enterprises reminds us of a parallel historical process in the nineteenth century as described by Elizabeth Sinn and May Bo Ching. Together they described how multi-ethnic merchants, artists, consumers, laborers, and modern day professionals each pursued their lifestyles and careers in a spirit of cultural openness and adventure and, as a result, made “Hong Kong” a cosmopolitan, expansive experience they well deserved.

1

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong Elizabeth Sinn*

The 1848 Gold Rush in California changed Hong Kong’s destiny. Tens of thousands of Chinese passed through Hong Kong subsequently, both on their way out of China and on their way home. Hong Kong, which the British had carved out as an open space on the fringe of the tightly bound Chinese Empire, had been intended as a gateway for British merchants entering the Chinese market. But, as it turned out, perhaps to everyone’s surprise, the new colony became also a gateway for Chinese spreading to all parts of the world. Hong Kong thrived as a “space of flow”.1 The flood of emigrants was followed by the continuous movement of funds and goods, personal communications and commercial intelligence, ideas and cultural practices. Emigration-related businesses of all kinds stimulated Hong Kong’s economy and networking activities, fueling its development into a world port city. Though neither the sending nor receiving country in the migration process, in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Hong Kong nevertheless played a vital role in the history of the Chinese diaspora. What made Hong Kong an effective “space of flow” was not just passive, idle, unrestrained geographical openness; rather, a combination of factors created a free, open and safe environment to facilitate through movement. At the same time, these dynamic and intense movements eroded deep-

*

I thank the Jardine, Matheson Company, the Ethnic Studies Department Library, University of California, Berkeley and the American Antiquarian Society for permission to use their archives and collections.

14

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

rooted attitudes, nurturing fresh mental landscapes where boundaries were blurred and fluid for the continuity and reinforcement of emotional and material ties.

The Making of the Space of Flow The Port of Choice The British colony was transformed into a major emigrant port with the discovery of gold in California in 1848, and subsequently in Australia, Canada and New Zealand where gold was also discovered. In 1851, 44 ships left Hong Kong for San Francisco, taking 7,785 Chinese with them.2 Another 30,000 went in 1852.3 By the 1870s, Chinese departing for other destinations were also transiting Hong Kong on both their outbound and homebound journeys. By 1939, over 6.3 million Chinese emigrants had embarked at Hong Kong for a foreign destination. Even more significantly, over 7.7 million had returned to China through Hong Kong.4 (See Table 1). The discrepancy in these figures indicates that even when passengers did not transit Hong Kong on their outbound journey, they returned home through Hong Kong. The nature of the California-bound emigration, especially the financial and organizational dimensions, had long-term consequences for Hong Kong’s development. In this respect, a fundamental point needs to be clarified. Literature on Chinese emigration in the nineteenth century is dominated by narratives of the “coolie trade”, or the sale of “pig”.5 It should be emphasized, however, that the Chinese gold rushers who went out through Hong Kong were primarily free emigrants, who should not to be confused with the indentured labourers, or “coolies”, who were being shipped, often under some form of coercion, to places such as Havana, Peru, and, to some extent, Southeast Asia. Some of the California- and Australia-bound emigrants might have borrowed money to pay for their tickets but, although obliged to repay their debt, they were not bonded or indentured. The largely voluntary nature of emigration from Hong Kong is crucial because whether the passengers were voluntary or coerced determined the principle by which the trade was organized, the practical arrangement of the voyage and the function of the port. Briefly, for ships catering for free emigrants, the accent was on comfort, safety and good service, as ship operators were eager to establish a good reputation among prospective clients, and in particular, to attract repeat customers. For ships sending coerced passengers, on the other hand, the accent was on controlling them

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

15

Table 1 Chinese Passengers through Hong Kong (1868–1939) Year

From World*

Sub-total

Cumulated sub-total

To World*

1868

10,752

8,704

1869

16,208

18,285

1870

16,618

12,992

1871

19,754

9,501

1872

23,773

27,721

1873

25,355

28,768

1874

32,319

31,866

1875

38,502

48,152

1876

42,390

46,350

1877

48,746

39,741

1878

47,882

38,653

1879

50,542

33,529

1880

51,011

50,325

1881

52,983

70,625

1882

61,905

78,864

1883

74,722

57,438

1884

73,767

51,247

1885

80,773

57,517

1886

88,704

64,522

1887

92,375

274,417

Sub-total

Cumulated Sub-total

272,080

82,897 674,664

585,617 949,081

857,697

1888

98,800

1889

99,315

96,195 47,849

1890

101,147

42,066

1891

105,199

45,162

1892

97,971

52,143

1893

108,644

82,336

1894

96,095

49,023

1895

112,685

73,138

1896

119,468

66,822

1897

115,207

62,831 1,054,531

617,565 2,003,612

1,475,262

1898

105,441

60,432

1899

110,448

61,075

1900

121,322

83,643

16

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

Table 1 Chinese Passengers through Hong Kong (1868–1939) (continued) Year

From World*

Sub-total

Cumulated sub-total

To World*

1901

129,030

69,774

1902

129,812

71,711

1903

140,551

83,384

1904

149,195

76,304

1905

140,483

64,341

1906

134,912

76,725

1907

145,822

105,967 1,307,016

Sub-total

Cumulated Sub-total

753,356 3,310,628

2,228,618

1908

157,809

1909

144,821

71,081 77,430

1910

149,564

111,058

1911

149,894

135,565

1912

163,248

122,657

1913

166,921

142,759

1914

168,827

76,296

1915

68,275

109,753

1916

72,405

117,653

1917

98,232

96,298 1,339,996

1,060,550 4,650,624

3,289,168

1918

74,109

43,830

1919

136,020

59,969

1920

122,438

105,258

1921

159,064

156,011

1922

143,547

98,393

1923

121,102

120,224

1924

130,194

129,859

1925

91,622

140,534

1926

128,661

216,527

1927

181,100

285,593 1,287,857

1,356,198 5,938,481

4,645,366

1928

187,847

257,162

1929

185,390

227,523

1930

223,136

188,900

1931

283,890

100,869

1932

232,396

55,639

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

17

Table 1 Chinese Passengers through Hong Kong (1868–1939) (continued) Year

From World*

Sub-total

Cumulated sub-total

To World*

1933

141,133

57,515

1934

113,694

131,984

1935

112,420

149,515

1936

120,641

153,170

1937

101,629

Sub-total

232,325 1,702,176

1,554,602 7,640,657

1938

83,620

1939

62,655

Cumulated Sub-total

6,199,968 110,887 71,285

146,275

182,172 7,786,932

6,382,140

* World includes places other than China and Japan, Macao and Villages of the Colony Source: Harbour Master’s Report, various years

in order to prevent escape and mutiny. The question of repeat customers hardly arose in these situations, and in the case of Cuba and Peru, many of the emigrants who went in the late nineteenth century never returned to China. Under these circumstances, the development trajectory of Hong Kong as an embarkation port of choice for free Chinese emigrants, especially in terms of the protection that the law and courts could provide for emigrants in difficulty, also differed significantly from that of Xiamen and Macao, which were mainly ports for forced emigration.6 Indeed, one of the greatest differences between the traffic to Cuba and Peru and traffic to California and Australia was that in the former case, most emigrants did not return to China, while the latter traffic was twoway right from the start.7 Many of the ships arriving in San Francisco turned around for Hong Kong as soon as they had unloaded their cargo of goods and passengers from China. On their return voyage, the ships took Chinese workers and merchants, some of whom had made their fortunes and were retiring in splendour to their native places. Others were just visiting their families for the New Year, or buying goods or recruiting labourers for the American market, and these emigrants would be sailing back to the United States once they had concluded their affairs in China. The availability of regular vessels between China and California even before the establishment of regular “lines” had many implications. It reflected the consistency of the departure of Chinese from China as well as their return. It must have been a source of comfort for those so far away from home to know that a return passage was a certainty — and of course

18

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

the reliability of the voyages also induced more emigrants to wish to go. The regularity of the to and fro traffic, moreover, helped to consolidate Hong Kong’s position as a major Pacific port, so that when the Pacific Mail Steamship Co.’s line to Asia was founded in 1867, it was Hong Kong that was selected as the China Terminal.

Open, Free and Safe Gateway It is no surprise that, superficially, Hong Kong should evolve into a major transit point for emigrants. Its excellent geographical position at the mouth of the Pearl River Delta, with its deep-water harbour made it the perfect meeting point of riverine, coastal and ocean shipping. In close proximity were areas of large populations, with people willing to travel far from home either for profit or for relief from poverty. Apart from such natural, geographical advantages, its free port status played an important role in enhancing its attractiveness. It was open to ships and merchants of all nationalities, and even though Hong Kong was never a level playing field, there were enough opportunities for those with capital and an enterprising spirit, and not just for the British. Being a free port meant not simply freedom from import or export duties, which was crucial enough, but more importantly, it meant relative freedom from undue bureaucratic interference. In particular, ships in the British colony were spared the cumbersome procedures and meddling of officials, which were notorious in Chinese ports. This is not to claim that corruption and inefficiency did not exist in Hong Kong, but at least compared to most ports in the region, the port procedures were relatively straightforward and chances for extortion proportionately reduced. At a time when ports in general were operated with many restrictions, Hong Kong must have been one of the most wide open places in the world. Hong Kong’s other great asset was the easy flow of information. All governmental, commercial, military and personal information at the time travelled by ship; Hong Kong’s quick access to information, and the ease with which information could be circulated within and beyond, proved a valuable edge. Such free movement of information was further supported by an energetic press to be discussed below. Other factors further transformed Hong Kong into a port of choice for emigrants. For passengers, safety was a primary concern. This included safety of property as well as safety from kidnapping and intimidation, from being decoyed into signing exploitative contracts and from being herded into overcrowded ships or ships that were not seaworthy. Businesses might thrive in the absence of constraints, but the absence of any regulation at all created opportunities for lawless and unprincipled transactions which jeopardized lives and properties.

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

19

Toward Regulation Before 1855, there was relatively little regulation of shipping. A number of sensational mishaps led to demand for change. One such was the Sultana case which occurred in July 1852, the peak year of the rush to California. When the passage broker absconded, the owner of the Sultana refused to dispatch her and 570 Chinese passengers due to sail for San Francisco were forced off the vessel by a gang of armed men and denied their passage. Many lost not only their passage money but all their belongings and found themselves stranded in Hong Kong dispossessed. A series of complicated lawsuits ensued, brought by the passengers and cargo owners against the ship’s owner, his agent and the ship’s captain, that lasted into the following year. While the incident was far from typical, some of the abuses the case revealed prompted the colonial government to look into the need to regulate the emigration trade.8 The matter was discussed, but no serious action was immediately taken due to strong resistance from merchants. Still, the fact that the Sultana’s passengers went to the Hong Kong courts to seek justice is noteworthy. It is widely believed that the Chinese would avoid getting involved with courts and officialdom at all cost, and yet these strangers in Hong Kong brought their grievances to the law. What mechanism, or who, were there to prompt them to such action is unknown, but the step was taken, and even though they did not all get the justice or damage they sought, it is worth noting that going to court was an option they did not shrink from taking, and that in Hong Kong, such institutional support was in place. The Sultana case also revealed another crucial aspect of the passenger trade based in Hong Kong. Soon after the ship refused to sail, some of the passengers tried to work out a new agreement with the ship owner to break the impasse. They managed to raise a large sum from a local businessman, Tam Choy,9 who was willing to come up with the required amount at short notice. He would have been willing, no doubt, to advance the sum only in the belief that it would be repaid, and that the interest on the loan would be the risk worthwhile. The availability of capital in Hong Kong not only for chartering ships or sending freight but to be used to underwrite passages and other passengers’ needs was to prove an extremely valuable asset that made the traffic possible. In fact, this was to be an essential component of a very elaborate system that grew up between Hong Kong and other ports such as San Francisco to ensure that loans made in Hong Kong would be repaid.10 The “credit-ticket” system, which enabled a large percentage of Chinese emigrants to make the journey, has been discussed in many works on Chinese emigration and yet the detailed financial arrangements remain largely a mystery, and it is a subject that warrants further research.

20

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

The Chinese Passengers Act The emigration trades, though lucrative, were fraught with abuses that prompted various parties in Britain to attack the inhumanity involved. The worst abuses arose not so much in Hong Kong as in ports such as Xiamen and Whampoa, where men were loaded onto British ships in horrendous conditions for Havana or Demerara and other British colonies. As political activists, often equating the “coolie trade” with the slave trade, harangued the London government, British Consuls on the China coast were made to report on the conditions of the trade. Pressure on the London government to introduce regulations grew, but in Hong Kong, support for “free trade” — i.e. no government interference — remained equally intransigent. London’s initial recommendation to restrain abuses was to apply the Imperial Passengers Act, with modifications, to British ships carrying Chinese passengers. In broad brush, this Act, originally enacted to protect British emigrants destined for North America and Australia, regulated the fitness of ships, the number of passengers and the quantity of provisions, and required the inclusion of a surgeon, medicines and medical instruments on a voyage. The number of passengers was limited both by tonnage and space: one person to every two tons and 15 clear superficial feet; regulations governing the use of deck-space could be interpreted as making it illegal to carry passengers in the orlop deck. Responding to instructions from the Colonial Office, Hong Kong’s Governor, Sir George Bonham, made it clear that even though he had proclaimed the Act in compliance with London’s orders, he could not strictly enforce it, for if he did, all the ships would resort to other ports. This, he warned, would mean the worst of both worlds — the ships would be beyond any interference by British authorities and Hong Kong’s business would suffer.11 Convinced that any restrictions would curb their profits, the major firms in Hong Kong, naturally, concurred with the Governor in opposing change. The Colonial Office, faced with strong resistance from Hong Kong, finally decided that the best solution was for “an ordinance framed on the spot” rather than try to adapt one that was shaped by experience derived from English ports.12 The Chinese Passengers Act was enacted in December 1855, and proclaimed in Hong Kong in early 1856. As far as Hong Kong was concerned, all ships carrying more than 20 Chinese passengers from Hong Kong on voyages longer than seven days’ duration were required to obtain clearance from the Emigration Officer. Only when he was satisfied that every provision in the Act had been fulfilled could the ship leave port. The Emigration Officer’s post had been established in 1854 but it was only after the Act was passed that he had real statutory powers. The Chinese Passengers Act made a number of concessions to the Hong Kong merchants, including making no mention to orlop decks and

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

21

reducing the space required for each passenger. This meant that the ships’ charterers and owners were able to make greater profits by carrying more passengers, but compromised the passengers in terms of physical comfort and safety.13 The Act, however, did add provisions that protected passengers in other ways. For instance, the Emigration Officer was required to interview each passenger before sailing to ensure that he understood the terms of the contract, if any, and that he knew what the ship’s destination was. Such a measure was obviously aimed at eliminating the worst abuses of the contract labour trade, such as kidnapping, decoying and misrepresentation, and however apathetic or inefficient the Emigration Officer might be when administrating it, it did ensure in some measure the basic safety of Hong Kong as an embarkation port. The Chinese Passengers Act was a balancing act, one that took into consideration the interests of many parties. On the one hand, it provided for the British government’s need to be seen to be upholding humanitarian principles; on the other, it allowed British ships to operate the trade competitively, ensured that British colonies would continue receiving the cheap labour required for their economies and assured Hong Kong’s prosperity as an embarkation port. The new law did not eradicate abuses completely — and it would have been unreasonable to expect it to. In the years after the Act’s application, from time to time, ships managed to evade the law by underreporting the number of passengers, and though they managed to clear the port “legally”, scandals broke out when the truth was discovered. One stark example was the John Calvin, which was certified leaving Hong Kong in 1856 with 81 passengers on board, and yet when it arrived in Havana, 110 emigrants were reported to have died! Another offender in the same year was the Duke of Portland which left with 332 emigrants, and arrived in Havana 150 days later with 128 passengers fewer — these having died of fever or having committed suicide. Interestingly, when John Calvin’s captain was judged guilty and fined £1,00014 by Hong Kong’s Attorney-General, the major firms, including Jardine, Matheson & Co., Dent & Co., Gibb, Livingston and Gilman — but not Lyall, Still & Co, the charterer — jointly petitioned the Secretary of States for the Colonies to remit the penalty, and it was reduced to £50 as a result.15 Such a combination of commercial forces shows clearly that there were vital common interests to be defended. The British government, embarrassed by the international outcry caused by the “coolie” trade and worried that such tragedies would further discourage much-needed Chinese labourers from going to the West Indies, pressured Hong Kong to enforce the Act more firmly. Further Acts and amendments followed to strengthen the Passengers Act. For example, Ordinance no. 11 of 1857 provided for the licencing of Passage Brokers; according to this, no person was to act as a passage broker without having

22

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

entered into a bond and obtained a licence, and only a licenced broker could sell a passage ticket on any Chinese Passenger proceeding by a Chinese Passenger Ship. In 1857, the bond was fixed at the very high sum of $5,000.16 The ordinance thus aimed at minimizing the gross abuse revealed by the Sultana case. Charterers and owners of vessels might have grumbled at these strictures, but it represented much-needed protection for passengers, and in the long run helped to further enhance Hong Kong’s reputation as a safe emigrant port. There was another important effect. The requirement for brokers to obtain security and a licence in Hong Kong might have further drawn the business from Guangzhou and Whampoa. The tussle between the Home government and the Hong Kong government continued. In 1858, the Colonial Office introduced a provision for hospital accommodations on board; the Legislative Council, composed mainly of merchants, accepted this, but made it possible through a local ordinance to allow the space appropriated for the hospital to be included in the measurement of the capacity for passengers.17 In other words, the local ordinance made sure that the inclusion of a hospital on board would not reduce the number of passengers that could be carried. The next major legislation was Ordinance no. 4 of 1870 which stipulated that only free emigrants and under no contract service whatever, could be carried on board a Chinese Passenger Ship except to British possessions,18 the rationale being that in these places, there would be British officials to control the enforcement of the contracts. In 1873, three more ordinances were passed to provide further protection to emigrants: Ordinance no. 3, for regulating Chinese emigrant ship fittings; Ordinance no. 5, for “the repression of abuses relating to Chinese emigration”; and Ordinance no. 6, for “the protection of women and female children and for the repression of certain abuses related to Chinese Emigration”. Consequently, the carrying trade to Peru and Cuba which had already been dwindling in Hong Kong was diverted to other ports. On the whole, the Passengers Act and related legislation did provide a modicum of protection and safety all round, despite the scandals of the Duke of Portland and the John Calvin. There were captains who kept scrupulously to the letter of the law.19 Moreover, prospective emigrants, at least the literate ones, were able to read for themselves in the newspapers and Government Gazette the provisions of the ordinances. Even though justice in Hong Kong was often meted out arbitrarily, 20 it must have been comforting for passengers to know that such laws existed and that they had recourse to them. It must have provided a sense of certainty for those facing a long journey filled with uncertainties, and persuaded them to make Hong Kong the embarkation/disembarkation port of their choice. On another level — this may seem too obvious to be worth stating — the shipping traffic centred on Hong Kong helped to sustain the Chinese

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

23

diaspora, and, as mentioned earlier, to complete the migration cycle. Ships not only provided the physical means for the Chinese to travel across the ocean, a regular shipping service also helped them maintain relationships with their families and villages — to enable periodic returns to impregnate wives, to pay respects to parents and ancestors, to conduct business and to maintain their stakes in the intricate webs of interests in the home community.21 Ships also enabled their final return, when they felt satisfied with their earnings, or when they were too old and exhausted to work further. Or if they were unable to return and died abroad, the same ships carried their bodies or bones back for final burial.22 The maintenance of a thick and regular passenger traffic helped to sustain the Chinese diaspora by keeping alive the bonds between the migrant and the homeland, helping to fulfil cultural ideals and personal aspirations, with Hong Kong playing the main bridging role. In the 1850s, the connections were mainly with North America and Australia, but from the 1870s, these connections extended to Southeast Asia, Central and South America, and the Indian Ocean too. Statistics show that between 1868 and 1939, the total number of Chinese emigrants who travelled out to Singapore was almost 4 million and the total number returning from Singapore to Hong Kong was 5.5 million. (See Tables 2 and 3).

Emigration and Hong Kong’s Economy Until 1867, when the Pacific Mail Steamship Company established a line between San Francisco and Hong Kong, passengers were taken by chartered vessels. Enterprising merchants jumping at the opportunities created by the gold rush made Hong Kong a centre of ships chartering. The dense chartering networks that arose involved individuals and firms of many nationalities. A good example of this multinational involvement is the chartering of the Caribbean on a voyage to California in 1858. The agent for the vessel and for the captain was the British hong, Jardine, Matheson & Co. The ship was chartered by Wohang, a Hong Kong Chinese merchant, whose Hong Kong agent was Russell & Co., the leading American firm in Hong Kong. In San Francisco, Wohang’s agent was Macondray & Co. and his broker was another American company, Edward & Balley.23 The passenger trade from Hong Kong to America and Australia was a multinational business where different communities of merchants shared the profits and the risks. Even when steamship liners owned by British, Japanese, American or Canadian interests were later introduced, and chartering became less essential, the liners still depended on Chinese compradors, Chinese brokers and Chinese seamen for their operation, not to mention other Chinese who, operating as provisioners, repairers,

24

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

Table 2 Chinese Emigrants to Singapore (1868–1939)

Year

Adult Male

To Singapore Adult Female Child Male

Child Female

All

1868

93

53

8

0

154

1869

55

3

3

0

61

1870

0

0

0

0

0

1871

0

0

0

0

0

1872

8,480

1,042

148

120

9,790

1873

6,418

952

180

128

7,678

1874

7,760

697

190

48

8,695

1875

9,733

1,448

219

97

11,497

1876

14,399

1,542

216

97

16,254

1877

13,516

1,271

141

101

15,029

1878

18,430

1,854

229

117

20,630

1879

13,913

2,140

204

164

16,421

1880

28,672

2,183

180

110

31,145

1881

33,295

2,494

444

312

36,545

1882

33,209

2,465

478

338

36,490

1883

38,201

3,744

759

691

43,395

1884

32,286

3,084

696

588

36,654

1885

37,537

2,851

666

501

41,555

1886

48,010

3,360

772

549

52,691

1887

55,441

4,636

978

678

61,733

1888

65,976

5,109

842

817

72,744

1889

37,242

4,243

536

556

42,577

1890

29,274

3,736

510

350

33,870

1891

31,396

4,385

690

550

37,021

1892

35,612

4,749

718

567

41,646

1893

59,905

6,694

1,061

817

68,477

1894

34,072

4,802

791

519

40,184

1895

51,332

7,912

1,340

1,241

61,825

1896

42,546

5,876

1,361

951

50,734

1897

37,264

6,022

1,124

780

45,190

1898

37,392

6,102

1,185

701

45,380

1899

39,672

4,474

1,064

456

45,666

1900

59,511

7,518

1,546

638

69,213

1901

47,352

7,463

1,380

708

56,903

1902

47,611

7,665

1,649

743

57,668

1903

51,387

8,595

2,372

1,033

63,387

1904

50,984

8,599

2,147

997

62,727

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

25

Table 2 Chinese Emigrants to Singapore (1868–1939) (continued)

Year

Adult Male

To Singapore Adult Female Child Male

Child Female

All

1905

44,238

8,117

1,710

909

54,974

1906

49,891

7,871

1,698

860

60,320

1907

68,444

10,824

2,697

1,083

83,048

1908

38,883

8,026

1,863

867

49,639

1909

38,117

7,034

2,012

853

48,016

1910

62,252

10,212

3,120

1,121

76,705 100,906

1911

79,163

15,329

4,712

1,702

1912

64,300

13,591

4,509

1,624

84,024

1913

79,470

15,396

5,629

1,858

102,353

1914

34,241

7,295

2,523

915

44,974

1915

30,135

7,811

2,305

1,027

41,278

1916

61,845

14,050

5,120

1,782

82,797

1917

49,820

8,958

3,430

1,084

63,292

1918

5,385

1,914

529

191

8,019

1919

6,491

3,819

933

395

11,638

1920

26,437

11,924

3,893

1,681

43,935

1921

61,472

17,692

5,560

2,600

87,324

1922

36,278

9,258

3,338

1,482

50,356

1923

46,741

11,572

5,270

2,001

65,584

1924

51,598

15,068

6,453

2,563

75,682

1925

69,739

16,038

8,766

3,009

97,552

1926

115,043

25,355

12,820

4,067

157,285

1927

8,253

875

368

278

9,774

1928

114,794

34,328

14,295

6,324

169,741

1929

102,679

28,543

10,357

4,937

146,516

1930

79,115

27,738

9,383

5,149

121,385

1931

31,840

12,283

3,766

2,612

50,501

1932

11,825

6,100

1,793

1,069

20,787

1933

12,692

7,537

2,075

1,232

23,536

1934

48,066

31,460

7,737

4,057

91,320

1935

63,029

32,412

6,764

4,776

106,981

1936

49,364

39,495

7,265

5,601

101,725

1937

65,800

71,088

14,499

11,310

162,697

1938

20,741

28,678

7,530

5,012

61,961

1939

16,048

6,764

4,689

2,037

29,538

Total

2,902,205

714,218

206,238

105,131

3,927,792

Source: Harbour Master’s Report, various years

26

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

Table 3 Chinese Emigrants from Singapore (1868–1939)

Year

Adult Male

From Singapore Adult Female Child Male

Child Female

All

1868

3,197

0

0

0

3,197

1869

4,434

0

0

0

4,434

1870

5,182

0

0

0

5,182

1871

8,197

0

0

0

8,197

1872

10,482

0

0

0

10,482

1873

13,452

0

0

0

13,452

1874

18,687

0

0

0

18,687

1875

22,693

559

103

31

23,386

1876

25,073

737

142

20

25,972

1877

28,831

931

258

68

30,088

1878

28,464

1,111

171

29

29,775

1879

31,298

1,246

189

42

32,775

1880

32,723

1,031

122

25

33,901

1881

36,478

299

149

24

36,950

1882

41,788

999

294

91

43,172

1883

51,534

1,401

352

122

53,409

1884

53,541

1,618

407

243

55,809

1885

55,907

1,758

296

144

58,105

1886

63,560

2,131

724

330

66,745

1887

70,814

2,341

949

326

74,430

1888

75,481

1,554

661

249

77,945

1889

76,382

2,472

993

538

80,385

1890

77,769

2,381

825

364

81,339

1891

79,818

2,501

902

566

83,787

1892

74,418

2,860

1,152

635

79,065

1893

81,816

3,320

1,221

688

87,045

1894

72,455

3,057

1,307

702

77,521

1895

88,354

3,813

1,425

787

94,379

1896

96,492

4,093

1,787

838

103,210

1897

92,128

4,964

1,754

923

99,769

1898

87,506

3,266

1,074

494

92,340

1899

88,511

3,900

1,680

771

94,862

1900

97,469

3,950

1,313

636

103,368

1901

105,419

4,086

1,504

857

111,866

1902

107,340

3,267

1,022

624

112,253

1903

114,994

4,927

1,711

851

122,483

1904

122,269

4,203

1,273

639

128,384

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

27

Table 3 Chinese Emigrants from Singapore (1868–1939) (continued) From Singapore Adult Female Child Male

Year

Adult Male

1905

112,990

5,468

1,663

Child Female 742

120,863

All

1906

109,342

3,453

1,183

590

114,568

1907

121,374

2,046

561

357

124,338

1908

123,984

3,599

1,244

823

129,650

1909

110,922

2,627

1,171

760

115,480

1910

108,045

6,122

2,394

1,402

117,963

1911

112,188

4,450

1,881

1,238

119,757

1912

120,985

6,473

2,609

1,396

131,463

1913

120,628

8,670

2,735

1,711

133,744

1914

133,690

3,569

3,063

1,036

141,358

1915

77,287

1,008

2,062

474

80,831

1916

45,538

975

916

226

47,655

1917

58,584

4,686

6,955

2,210

72,435

1918

33,445

1,629

3,217

905

39,196

1919

57,570

1,915

3,242

956

63,683

1920

62,775

3,138

5,541

1,472

72,926

1921

79,698

6,344

11,505

3,146

100,693

1922

67,758

8,002

6,936

2,948

85,644

1923

51,000

4,890

7,800

2,296

65,986

1924

60,141

6,960

4,906

2,256

74,263

1925

48,731

6,709

3,489

1,962

60,891

1926

66,408

11,536

5,786

3,225

86,955

1927

104,050

17,719

9,457

5,470

136,696

1928

92,228

16,187

7,888

4,390

120,693

1929

88,663

18,018

9,297

5,099

121,077

1930

108,982

22,180

11,982

6,780

149,924

1931

118,842

26,185

15,305

9,387

169,719

1932

85,553

20,955

13,053

9,056

128,617

1933

43,283

12,321

8,020

5,786

69,410

1934

34,829

9,708

6,052

3,969

54,558

1935

35,854

10,630

6,294

4,019

56,797

1936

38,549

13,039

7,840

5,767

65,195

1937

29,359

10,554

5,610

4,325

49,848

1938

10,109

3,415

1,492

1,313

16,329

1939

6,319

1,686

1,083

809

9,897

Total

4,824,659

361,642

209,992

110,958

5,507,251

Source: Harbour Master’s Report, various years

28

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

stevedores, lodging house keepers, money changers, and so forth, formed the human nuts and bolts in the emigrant port’s infrastructure. The openness of the market was an essential ingredient. The new shipping routes created for emigrants added new markets for trade, increasing the opportunities for capitalists of all nationalities to invest in different capacities. The passenger trade, significantly, was heavily integrated with the commodity trade, as charterers customarily paid part of the charter money with the proceeds of the cargo they carried on board the vessels. Ships destined for California carried, besides emigrants, silk, prepared opium, “China rice” and tea, among other things, for the American market,24 while on their return journey, they carried ginseng, quick silver, timber and wheat flour. Thus the two aspects of Hong Kong’s entrepot function — the through traffic of people and of goods — became inextricably enmeshed. Other developments followed. Hong Kong became the primary channel for the millions of dollars that overseas Chinese remitted to their native villages, thus greatly increasing Hong Kong’s cashflow.25 Another enduring consequence of this traffic, in fact, was the emergence of the so-called California Trade; in Chinese, it was known as the “Gold Mountain Trade” (the Chinese name for California being Gold Mountain). Firms participating in this trade engaged in a wide range of activities, including import/export trade, labour recruitment, remittances and money-changing, insurance and shipping between Hong Kong and America, and despite its name, with Australia, Honolulu, New Zealand and Canada as well.26 California Traders were among Hong Kong’s wealthiest and most influential merchants, and their guild was one of the most powerful up to the end of the Second World War. Strong trading links with Southeast Asia also evolved and large firms, known as Siam Traders, Annam Traders, Singapore Traders appeared, so named for the geographical areas they specialized in. In addition, there was the extremely valuable Nam Pak Hong [in putonghua, nan bei hang] trade, which was the north-south trade between China in the north and Southeast Asia in the south. Hong Kong was the main transhipping centre for this traffic, and as such, facilitated the redistribution of goods to different continents, again capitalizing on the ties with Chinese abroad.27 It is little wonder that as early as 1858, Chinese emigration was recognized as “the mainstay of the colony”28 — and it remained so for another century.

Social Organizations and Transnational Networks Easy physical access and legal structure were only parts of the infrastructure of the space of flow. Migration was not just a commercial operation but a

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

29

social one, and people’s movement and, to be more exact, the quality of the movement, depended on various types of Chinese social organizations which acted as bridging mechanisms linking the sending locality with the receiving locality through Hong Kong. These associations were a vital mechanism for sustaining multilevel and intricate transnational Chinese networks that spanned the world. In other works I have elaborated on one such type of associations, the tongxianghui, which were founded on native place affiliation.29 Many of the early associations were first established in the nineteenth century for the purpose of facilitating the repatriation of emigrants’ bones from abroad for secondary burial in the native place, and the associations in Hong Kong played the vital role of receiving and distributing the bones on their way home. Among other things, such associations kept emigrants in communication with those at home, helped transfer funds and managed funds and investments for their fellow tongxiang overseas. This provided immense comfort for the friends and family of the deceased migrant and gave meaning to the hardship that many migrants faced abroad. The work of the Tung Wah Hospital further exemplifies Hong Kong’s bridging role.30 Established by the leading Chinese merchants of Hong Kong in 1869 as a charitable organization offering Chinese medicine to the Chinese population, the Hospital’s work soon expanded far beyond its original boundaries. Functionally, it extended into many other areas of philanthropy and evolved into a key player in the social, economic and political development of colonial Hong Kong. Geographically, its work and influence expanded beyond the colony to all parts of the globe, linking Chinese abroad with their homeland in numerous ways. The services the Hospital extended to emigrants were wide-ranging. Besides offering medical care to those in transit in Hong Kong, it received and housed returned emigrants in need, including the sick, the blind, the destitute and the crippled as well as victims of disasters at sea and women rescued from prostitution, and paid for their passage to their homes in China. It policed and suppressed emigration-related abuses such as kidnapping, deceptive labour contracts and the sale of women as prostitutes abroad. It enabled emigrants to maintain contact with their families in China by forwarding their letters and money — and bones. For this and other services, the Tung Wah Hospital was widely recognized among emigrants as a source of security and comfort, and their gratitude and admiration were expressed in numerous ways. In all this work, the Hospital displayed not only an amazing ability to organize, but also the social, political, economic and moral influence it could bring to bear — an influence that radiated from Hong Kong to China and overseas. The outreaching nature of Tung Wah Hospital and other Hong Kong–based associations

30

Lessons in Openness: Hong Kong as a Space of Flow

fully reflects how individuals and groups developed as a result of Hong Kong’s openness and accessibility, and in turn how they enhanced these qualities.

The Space of Flow and an Open World View From quite early on, the Hong Kong press was exceptionally well developed.31 With emigration being of direct financial and personal interest to so many, Hong Kong’s press, both English and Chinese, were full of information about ships arriving and leaving, related laws and regulations, court cases, the way the trade operated, scandals, the policy of receiving governments, conditions of emigrants abroad and so forth. Likewise, the Government Gazette included a wide variety of notifications related to emigration, publicizing not only ordinances and regulations passed in Hong Kong but also information about overseas matters which might be of interest to those involved with emigration. Reading Hong Kong’s papers, one could not help but have the impression that Hong Kong was a city on the move, offering a wide range of facilities, from law courts to shipping agencies to the print media, all assisting through movement. The Chinese press in particular would have played an important role in facilitating the trade, both in a practical way and in shaping the mental landscape of the people in Hong Kong. Despite the loss of many Chinese newspapers of that period, we are still able to capture a sense of the prominence of emigration matters in two surviving publications, the Xia’er guanzhen and the Zhongwai xinwen qiribao.

Putting Chinese Emigrants on the Map The Xia’er guanzhen (the Chinese Serial), a monthly journal started by the London Missionary Society in 1853, was the first Chinese-language news periodical published in Hong Kong and in China.32 It had a print run of 3000. It was distributed in Hong Kong as well as all the five treaty ports — Guangzhou, Xiamen, Fuzhou, Ningbo and Shanghai — whence they were further circulated inland; its editor claimed that its readers included Chinese officials and ordinary people. Though a missionary enterprise, it carried “secular” information to appeal to a wider readership. Emigration-related matters were a main focus reflecting the editor’s aim to enhance the journal’s attractiveness and provide a useful service to intended readers. As a whole, the contents may be divided into two types: general knowledge about the outside world for the general reader and specific and practical knowledge

Lesson in Openness: Creating a Space of Flow in Hong Kong

31

which would appeal more to prospective emigrants and people connected in different ways to the shipping and trading businesses. Together its articles over the period of its publication (1853–56) gave a broad picture of emigration. By 1854, with a number of people having actually gone and returned, residents in South China would have already heard something about California, Australia and other places, and knowledge about these places would have dispersed and circulated in one way or another. Still, writings in the print media would have played a special role. The print media could travel and disseminate knowledge in a way different from word of mouth, and in a society where the “printed word” was highly revered, the fact that the stories about these faraway places were “printed” would have made them more authoritative. By providing not just information but commentaries and insights on different aspects of emigration, the Xia’er guanzhen’s educating function made it a particularly valuable resource. What would readers have gotten out of the journal? Collectively, its articles would have painted a very interesting picture of the outside world. Australia and California were particularly highlighted for readers as fabulous gold-producing places, and tens of thousands of people had left their homes to make the long journey there. Many more were expected to go. There were all kinds of work waiting to be done — agriculture and the construction of roads and houses and the making of ships, but though the capital was there, labour was lacking.33 What could people expect to get in Australia? Citing one case, the journal reported that the Chinese were receiving wages ranging from two, three to ten pounds a week, which was high compared to what local people received because the Chinese were more efficient and diligent. Moreover, in that year, the total amount of gold exported was over 80 tons, or 13,670 catties, an astronomical amount.34 Readers would learn that opportunities were not confined to Australia and California: the southern part of the United States with its sugar cane and cotton fields; the West Indies and the isthmus of Panama between North and South America where there were railway tracks, roads and a canal to connect the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans were all crying out for labour. However, the Xia’er guanzhen also explained, it was not only the Chinese who were pursuing these opportunities; it was only natural that people in the “old world” where populations were large and labour cheap would find their way to the “new world” where resources were undeveloped and labour was scarce and highly paid. Now that rapid transportation was available, labour was just another commodity that could move around, and people from all over the world were ready to go where wages and profits were higher. To that extent, the Chinese emigrants were only part of a larger, global movement. But there was a difference in the patterns of

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emigration. When Western people left their countries, they took their families with them, including in some instances women of good families, whereas Chinese usually went alone because Chinese women “are not allowed to go out and wander around”. 35 As a missionary newspaper, the Xia’er guanzhen naturally extolled family virtues, and it urged Chinese emigrants to take their wives and children with them. The almost male-only emigration among Chinese had been severely attacked by their Western contemporaries, particularly because of its alleged connections with homosexuality, and although the paper did not mention this unspeakable vice, it did stress the problems of long separation and loneliness as good reasons for emigrating as a family. The Xia’er guanzhen therefore not only offered its Chinese readers a vision of the opportunities abroad but also an alternative — and in its opinion more healthy — mode of organizing their sojourns. Its readers were also reminded that not all places in the world were equally wonderful. Some Chinese had gone to Chincha Island in Peru to work on guano thinking it was just another place needing Chinese labour. They had been seduced by beautiful promises only to discover later that men were being held there like slaves and physically abused like animals. Since slavery had been prohibited by Britain, for a while, Bowring, the British Plenipotentiary, had ordered British merchants not to recruit contract labour for that destination, but after the Peruvian government reassured the British government that it would introduce reforms, the traffic was allowed to resume. Under such circumstances, the journal cautioned, Chinese must be on the lookout and check things out carefully before proceeding. 36 Even the United States, with all its riches, it warned, had its perils. For one thing, as the number of Chinese in California increased, cases of violence against them also happened with increasing frequency, and laws and regulations emerged to discourage them from going. In March 1855 the journal reported that the California legislature had passed an Act to prevent further immigration of Chinese.37 (This law was later suppressed by the federal courts). One issue later, it reprinted a document in which the Chinese Merchants of San Francisco had addressed the Californian Governor, protesting against the new law and defending themselves against the charges and criticisms he had made against them. Among the charges white Americans made were that the Chinese were too numerous — too many labourers and too few merchants — that men came without families, that they didn’t understand English, that they sent their money home to China and would not consider naturalizing, and that they indulged in vices such as gambling and prostitution. The Chinese “address” was a remarkable document, polite and yet proudly assertive, which not only answered the charges point by point, but also counterattacked: for example, it pointed out that the way to combat gambling and prostitution was not to just

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point an accusing finger at the Chinese but by enacting vigorous laws to break up brothels and gambling places; in this way “your policemen and petty officials [will] also be deprived of opportunities of trickery and extortion”.38 The Xia’er guanzhen commented profusely on the two documents. The writer admitted that having read both documents, he could not help regretting that there was misunderstanding on both sides. America in his opinion was generous in sharing its resources with people of other nations but it was wrong for Americans to discriminate against other peoples, as all were God’s children. Discrimination to the point of barring Chinese and others from giving testimony in court was not a way to show graciousness to strangers. As for the Chinese, their arrogance was excessive, and the writer expressed particular annoyance at their claim that the Chinese Emperor was gracious to foreigners. Citing the many strictures imposed on foreigners by the old “Canton system”, the writer asked, where was the graciousness? His advice to Americans was to be tolerant toward the Chinese and to examine their faults and virtues patiently [guanguo zhiren (by examining a man’s faults it may be known whether he is virtuous)], to investigate the wicked and protect the innocent by enacting suitable laws. His advice to the Chinese was to obey the law and observe their obligations. This was the way to end conflicts and bring unity and harmony among people of different nations. The article’s author might appear too idealistic, even sanctimonious, but he did try to present different perspectives on the issue. He made a particularly striking point. When people of other countries were maltreated abroad, he noted that their governments would make every effort to protect them. Why, he asked, had the Qing Emperor taken no steps to protect his people in America despite the brutality practiced against them.39 This was a very provocative point to make. In the 1850s, emigration from China was still a crime punishable by beheading. The imperial ban against Chinese emigration, first promulgated in the Ming dynasty and then re-issued several times in the Qing, made any Chinese leaving China without a licence subject to capital punishment. In general, people who left China were seen to have turned their backs on the Emperor’s benevolence and considered as renegades. Under these circumstances, according to official Chinese thinking, how could the Emperor be expected to protect them?40 Consular protection for Chinese abroad was discussed from time to time by foreigners; doubtlessly it was an issue that would, for commercial and personal reasons, be of immediate concern to people in Hong Kong, yet it would be at the same time risky for Chinese to discuss it openly. Nonetheless it is significant that a missionary-operated journal should call the Chinese public’s attention to it. The idea must have continued to ferment in Hong Kong, and we will

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see that at least by the early 1870s, it had become such a burning issue that the Chinese finally took courage to reopen the subject and discuss it in earnest in the press. For prospective emigrants and others, the Xia’er guanzhen also offered practical information. In one of its earliest issues, it published a translated version of the regulations governing Chinese miners in California, obviously to assist those who were planning to work in the gold mines there. The translation had originally been done in America, but seeing that some parts had been poorly translated, the editor took the trouble to make the necessary corrections, no doubt to ensure that there would be no confusion when its readers actually arrived in the American mines.41 The journal published regulations and laws of different countries that affected passengers,42 so that they would know what they were entitled to, and what to expect. Food was naturally of great concern to passengers. Readers were told that Chinese passengers travelling on foreign ships often found that there was insufficient food and cooking stuff. The Hong Kong government consequently specified the quantity of different items of foods and fuel for each passenger, and details were fully listed in the journal.43 Since laws and regulations of receiving countries aimed at Chinese emigrants were constantly changing, the journal also updated its readers regularly.

Figure 1 Translated version of the regulations governing Chinese miners in California in Xia’er guanzhen (August, 1853)

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Figure 1 Translated version of the regulations governing Chinese miners in California in Xia’er guanzhen (August, 1853) (continued)

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The Xia’er guanzhen constantly alerted its readers to the hazards of travel, citing the many cases of fraud that occurred to drive home the point. There was, for instance, the story of a ship bound for Melbourne that was found in Singapore to have overloaded because the brokers had oversold tickets. Nine passengers were forced off the vessel and had to return to Hong Kong on another ship. They took the passage brokers to court, and fortunately, they managed to get their passage money of $50 back; the court even ruled that they be paid twelve dollars each to cover their passage and expenses from Singapore.44 It was obvious that there were ruthless brokers and others engaged in the shipping business who would not hesitate to swindle unsuspecting passengers. The journal reminded prospective travellers to always be on guard — to deal only with captains and brokers of good repute and check the relevant regulations carefully before handing over the passage money and boarding a vessel.45

Vision of a Transnational Chinese Community The Zhongwai xinwen qiribao too covered emigration matters enthusiastically. This paper began publication in March 1871, appearing every Saturday on one page of the English newspaper the China Mail. Though owned and operated by China Mail’s owner, the Qiribao was far from being a straight translation of its host paper, and its editorial position was quite distinct. Its editor, Chen Aiting, had been educated in Hong Kong at St Paul’s College, an Anglican school. Very much a product of British Hong Kong, Chen benefited from an education that opened doors to new social and economic opportunities for Chinese boys. Before joining the China Mail as assistant editor, he had worked for seven years at the Police Magistrate’s court, first as 4th Interpreter and later as 3rd Clerk, and was widely known among Westerners for his linguistic talents.46 Chen’s experience in the courts might account for the paper’s keen interest in legal issues, including its recurrent argument that the legal protection of Chinese overseas was indispensable and that such protection could only be provided by Chinese consuls. In addition, these were years when cases connected with emigration appeared in Hong Kong’s court almost every day, and Chen Aiting must have become familiar with the myriad misfortunes and problems, as well as opportunities, that Chinese encountered as emigrants. Given his wide interest and knowledge in such matters, it was no wonder that when the Chinese government first set up diplomatic representatives abroad, Chen was appointed as the Chinese Consul-General in Havana.

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As we see above, reporting on various aspects of Chinese emigration was already a regular feature in Hong Kong’s newspapers by the time the Qiribao appeared. In some ways then, the Qiribao was simply continuing an established practice. But things had not remained entirely unchanged since the early 1850s, when Hong Kong first evolved as a hub for Chinese emigrants, and when emigration first became a popular topic in the press. By 1871, Hong Kong’s status as an emigrant port had become firmly established. It was also poised to become a major gateway not only for the gold rush countries, but for Southeast Asia as well. In 1872, the year after the Qiribao’s debut, almost 10,000 Chinese were to leave for Singapore through Hong Kong. Many Chinese individuals in Hong Kong were related to the emigration business in one way or another. Indeed, many of the Qiribao’s readers would themselves have been involved, whether as prospective or returned emigrants, or friends and relatives of emigrants, or as shipping agents, import-export merchants, provisioners, stevedores, ships’ fitters and repairers, and so on. On one level, we may say that the Qiribao was providing information that was of immediate personal and business interest to its local readers. On another level, in reporting on the Chinese abroad, it was, like the Xia’er guanzhen, recasting in intellectual form personal, visual and sensual experiences. As importantly, the paper had a very clear editorial position right from the start and dealt with emigration issues in a sophisticated way. By discussing the subject in greater depth, using more refined reasoning and a decidedly more polished literary style, than, say, the Xia’er guanzhen, the Qiribao was likely to have had a greater impact on readers of higher education and social status, and exerted more authority. Above all, by closely identifying itself with Chinese emigrants and consciously promoting their interests, the Qiribao emphasized the personal and emotional dimensions of the transnational phenomenon. The public pronouncement of the oneness of the Chinese people whether they were in China or overseas, founded not only on the relationship between the emperor and his subjects but also on people-to-people linkages, marked a turning point in the history of the Chinese diaspora. Each page of the Qiribao consisted of six vertical columns. Of a total of 57 issues,47 at least 28, or just under half of them, carried some item related to Chinese emigration. In some issues, there was more than one item on the subject. The subject came up in different forms, sometimes in short notices or advertisements, and sometimes in long reports with commentaries. However, even advertisements could be long and informative, such as the one advertising for labourers in Louisiana that took up more than half a column.48

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Figure 2 An advertisement recruiting Chinese labour for plantations in Louisiana in Zhongwai xinwen qiribao (15 April, 1871)

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There were treatises that analyzed the subject of emigration vigorously. The treatise, “Baomin Shuo”, for instance, took up almost an entire column, or almost one-sixth of the whole issue. Consisting of 750 characters, and written in a concise literary style and unpunctuated, it was a very compact essay, full of ideas and information and in a format reminiscent of a civil service examination script. Fittingly, in its very last issue, another long treatise on Chinese overseas appeared. Qualitatively, these items together covered the entire emigration process, from the point when people departed from China — either voluntarily as contract labourers or free emigrants, or involuntarily as victims of kidnapping and deceit — through their passage across the seas, to their settlement at the destinations, and their return from abroad. The underlying message in all the different types of coverage was that wherever Chinese went and whatever conditions they faced, they were still closely tied to China — that their relations with their families and the emperor had not been severed as a result of their movement to faraway locales. This distinguished it markedly from the detached attitude in the Xia’er guanzhen. The information the Qiribao supplied on the conditions of emigrants abroad would have enabled a regular and careful reader to build an overall picture more or less as follows: There were 600,000 to 700,000 Chinese scattered around the world. The largest numbers were in California and Singapore, where there were a 100,000-odd in each place. In Australia there were about 70,000 to 80,000; the West Indies about 70,000; in Penang about 50,000 to 60,000; in Malacca, 20,000 to 30,000; in Annam, 20,000. In Cuba and Peru, the two “pig” countries — “pigs” being men who had been recruited as contract labourers either through kidnapping, decoying or other forms of deception — there were about 100,000. Smaller numbers were found in places such as Siam, Ceylon, Hawaii, and other Dutch and British colonies. The fate of these tens of thousands of Chinese, the paper made clear, differed greatly depending on locality and occupation, and it tried to present a nuanced and balanced picture. The best place for Chinese, it seemed to indicate, was Honolulu. At the time, there were only 3,000 to 4,000 Chinese there, most working for merchants, and they were seldom harshly treated.49 The paper appears to suggest, however, that much as Hawaii offered a comfortable existence for those who wished to make a quick fortune, Hawaii probably could not be compared to Peru. In Peru, the paper confided, “A songbook which one can buy in Hong Kong for two or three cash can be sold for a great profit at a quarter of a gold dollar.”50 This characterization of Peru might appear rather astonishing given that it was notorious as a “pig” country, and the Qiribao itself frequently

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decried the hellish conditions prevailing there. However, in its effort to present a balanced picture of the diverse experiences of Chinese abroad, it demonstrated that even in Peru, the fate of emigrants varied. Some Chinese who went there did manage to make it. When 48 Chinese returned to China from Peru through Hong Kong in late 1871, the paper reported their arrival enthusiastically: “There are Chinese [in Peru] who have accumulated fortunes of several tens of thousand of gold dollars. A few days ago, fortyeight men returned to China from Peru through Hong Kong, each of them is worth several thousand dollars, and two of them are worth more than ten thousand.” It even made a point of highlighting the fact that one of the men had married a Western woman and had a son by her.51 Other Chinese in Peru were less prosperous, but some of them did manage to make a relatively comfortable living, the Qiribao reported. Those who were employed near the capital Lima working mainly as domestic servants or in shops, enjoyed a good income of $6 a month and were fed relatively adequately.52 But others, above all those who were forced to work on the notorious guano mines on Chincha Island, faced immense hardship. Up to this point, due to the harsh conditions, few Chinese who had gone to Peru returned to China, a fate the paper sadly lamented. In fact, one report stated,53 quite often Chinese workers in Peru were beaten or flogged to death by the foremen or even the employer for laziness or theft. In the previous year, 1870, a worker had been beaten to death by his employer who was a local magnate. The Qiribao made it clear that the Chinese were subject to such oppression and injustice not because there was no law in Peru. Laws against physical assault did exist; the trouble was they were not enforced with equal rigour throughout the country. While in places near the capital, employers, wary of prosecution, did not dare to break the law, in more remote localities, there was nothing to restrain unscrupulous employers from taking the law into their own hands, leaving Chinese workers defenceless. The Qiribao’s message was constant: there were many Chinese living abroad under different circumstances, but whether rich or poor, merchants or labourers, they all faced one kind of disability or another. Even in California, which was such a magnet for Chinese emigrants ,54 the Chinese faced many problems. Besides discrimination and violence, they were moreover forbidden from testifying in court.55 Chen Aiting’s work in the courts must have made him painfully aware that being barred from bearing witness would leave the Chinese vulnerable, and it is no surprise that he fulminated against the gross injustice of the American system. What made the Qiribao essentially different from the Xia’er guanzhen in their attitude toward Chinese living and working in foreign lands was that the former emphasized that they remained closely bound to those at home,

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thus creating in readers’ minds the sense of connectedness among all Chinese wherever they were. The Qiribao was especially significant in tackling one of the most crucial matters related to emigration — the need for Chinese consuls to protect Chinese abroad, because, fundamentally, this issue bore upon the question of the legitimacy of emigration and the security of emigrants. In China at this time, as noted, the imperial ban against emigration was still on the books. Though the Chinese government was unable to enforce the ban universally, and by the 1860s had been forced under foreign pressure to grudgingly admit the right of Chinese to emigrate, the stigma attached to emigrants was nevertheless very strong; the Chinese returning from abroad were often hassled by local officials and had no recourse except to buy their way out of trouble. Therefore, when in the early 1870s, the Qiribao reminded the Chinese Emperor of his duty to protect his subjects, whether in China or beyond, repeatedly calling upon him to send consuls abroad, it was a politically explosive move.56 In addition, at the time the Chinese state ideology was still based on China being the Middle Kingdom and centre of civilization, thus making the Chinese government reluctant to accept the principle behind the new world order based, rather hypocritically perhaps, on Western concepts of diplomatic equality that had been forced on it after the Treaty of Nanjing. While China could not resist foreign countries sending consuls to China, it did resist the request to establish consuls abroad. Under these circumstances, the Qiribao’s demand for Chinese consuls was revolutionary as far as the development of the Chinese world-view was concerned.57 Naturally, the fact that Hong Kong was beyond Chinese jurisdiction made it possible for Chinese writers to express views that their counterparts on the Mainland would not have dared to express. But I would argue that it was not just a matter of daring but of the propensity and ability to develop a certain vision. The writings in the Hong Kong press reflected the breaking down of the psychological divide between tianxia — the land basking in the benevolence of the emperor — and the wild, barbaric places beyond.58 The physical fluidity that characterized Hong Kong’s position as a space of flow was mirrored in the openness of its press, an openness that in turn helped readers transcend barriers, whether barriers with China or with the outside world.

Hong Kong Viewed from Overseas It is interesting, likewise, to explore how Hong Kong was perceived by Chinese abroad. Scanning San Francisco’s Chinese newspapers, one will

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find Hong Kong appearing on the pages with great frequency. That Hong Kong was an indispensable link in the migratory cycle of Chinese migrants was conveyed in the regular reporting on the arrival of ships from Hong Kong and their departure for Hong Kong. These were the ships that brought emigrants to California on each run as well as tea and rice and prepared opium, among other things for the Chinese community there. On their return, the ships took home Chinese passengers and tens of thousands of dollars worth of gold and silver. It was as if the rhythm of the ships to and from Hong Kong echoed the rhythm of the Chinese readers’ own migratory cycles of coming and going. Hong Kong, by facilitating their outward and homeward journeys, by keeping alive their ties with their native home and by sustaining their cultural life by supplying food, ritual objects and entertainment, was the vital link. The overall impression one gets from reading the San Francisco newspapers is that Hong Kong was portrayed in a favourable light, as a place where people were efficient, where things got done and done properly. The fact that emigrants relied on Hong Kong as a safe conduit for remitting home their hard-earned wages is by itself powerful evidence of the trust in the Hong Kong connection. In particular, the Tung Wah Hospital was held in high esteem for its charitable and civilizing work, and was often discussed in glowing terms. In 1875, it was suggested that a similar hospital be founded in San Francisco; it was even suggested that to do so quickly, the constitution of the “Hong Kong hospital” should be borrowed outright to kick-start the proposed institution. Likewise, the Hong Kong government was seen as benevolent and efficient, one that protected Chinese emigrants from many perils.59 In short, a combination of private and government efforts persuaded emigrants that Hong Kong was a valuable asset to them.

Conclusion Hong Kong thrived on its openness. The openness of a place can be measured quantitatively by the throughput of ships and passengers, but it can also be understood qualitatively, in terms of the kind of social, political, legal and cultural elements that contribute to its open character and determine its texture. For many of the emigrants leaving China, Hong Kong was their first stop outside China, and paradoxically, also their first stop in China on their return home. In Hong Kong, the borders between China and the outside world easily became blurred. Sometimes it seemed difficult to tell where

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China ended and the outside world began. The vagueness, fluidity and ambivalence that characterized its borders and the nature of Hong Kong society itself made the place mean many different things to Chinese emigrants at different stages of their journey. The British colony, ironically, came to occupy a special place in the consciousness of many overseas Chinese, and it is no surprise that to some of them at least, “Hong Kong is the second native place”.60 People did not simply transit Hong Kong. As hundreds of thousands of migrants from South China passed through the port city on their outbound and inbound journeys, they enabled the emergence of networks of many kinds on many levels, the expanding geographical scope of their activities and the growing diversity of interactions constantly redefining the boundaries of existing networks. Besides its direct impact on economic and social developments, Hong Kong’s openness shaped the vision of its people, expanding their general outlook and enriching their imagining of the world. The heightened sense of the possible, combined with the profit motive, fostered an entrepreneurial spirit that distinguished Hong Kong. Yet, the same sense of the possible also fueled other impulses, including the desire for moral, legal and public order — even for honour. Conflicting desires and interests, while constantly testing and straining the fine line that separated openness from anarchy, also constantly reinforced and revitalized that line. The lesson in openness has been, for the most part, well learned.

2

Where Guangdong Meets Shanghai: Hong Kong Culture in a Trans-regional Context May Bo Ching*

The “New Moon” in Hong Kong In 1926, a record company called “New Moon” was created in Hong Kong. The following account made by Qian Guangren, New Moon’s founder, was perhaps a typical encounter of a Hong Kong adventurer in the 1920s. It is therefore worth a lengthy citation: I recall that in August 1925, I went to Shanghai for business. Mr. Lü Wencheng, one of my very best friends, invited me to visit Great China Records. The boss of Great China asked me to sing and tested whether I was qualified to record. Without much preparation I sang a few lines. The boss appreciated my performance and asked me to do a few recordings. Then he talked about the business of his company. At that time, I had a feeling that the recording business in China was sprouting. I therefore signed a contract with Great China and became their general manager of South China. Our partnership thus began. This is how I became involved in the recording business.

*

A modified Chinese version of this chapter, entitled “Jindai difang wenhua de kua diyu xing: ershi shiji ersanshi niandai yueju, yueyue he yuequ zai Shanghai” (The Trans-locality of Local Cultures in Modern China: Cantonese Opera, Music and Songs in Shanghai, 1920s–1930s), is published in Jindaishi Yanjiu (Modern Chinese History Studies), no. 2 (2007): 1–17. The author would like to thank the journal’s editorial office for granting her the permission to publish the English version of this paper in this edited volume.

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In May 1926, Great China wrote me a few letters, asking me to go to Shanghai to do some recording. I asked Mr. Cai Zirui and Mr. Yin Zizhong to go with me. In Shanghai we met the celebrated Cantonese opera actor Mr. Xue Juexian, who happened to be in town starting his movie business. We took the opportunity to invite Mr. Xue to record a few pieces for Great China. Mr. Xue said to me, “If you want to do such a business, why don’t you found your own company?” I was inspired by what he said. Immediately I founded New Moon Records. I asked Great China to do the recordings and manufacture the records for us. At the same time we invited Mr. Xue Juexian, Mr. Deng Fen, and a few other good friends to record a number of records. This is how I founded New Moon, by accident. In August 1927, Shanghai Zhongyang Jingwuhui (the Chinese Athletics Association) wrote to me and asked me to bring a few members of the Zhongsheng Charity Society (from Hong Kong) to Shanghai to perform Cantonese songs and entertain the Guangdong natives there, and to collect some money for charity. I asked Mr. Cai Zirui, Mr. Yin Zizhong, and Mr. (He) Dasha to come with me to Shanghai for a few days. I took this chance to make several tens of recordings for Great China and a few for New Moon. This is how the business of New Moon was run a year after its establishment. In May 1928, we did some recordings (for New Moon) for the third time. The performers who went with us to Shanghai this time included Ms. Lifang, Mr. Yin Zizhong, Mr. Liang Yizhong, and a few outstanding musicians. In the winter, I went to Shanghai with Mr. Lü Wencheng again. Joining a few friends who sojourned there, we made a number of recordings. This is how the third series of New Moon records was produced. In June 1929, as we needed to produce a few more records to meet the terms of the fourth phase of recordings for New Moon, I went to Shanghai on my own and asked a few experienced singers to record a number of records. It happened that Ms. Meiying, a notable female singer from Guangzhou, was also in Shanghai, and I therefore invited her to record a few records. This is how the fourth series of New Moon Records was produced. Although our company had already been running for four years, we had never conducted our recordings in the south. Audiences supporting national products continued to write to us, asking us to do this. Subsequently, for the fifth series, we expanded our project. Specifically we asked the studio in Shanghai to send down a few technicians to Hong Kong to do the recordings. In the past few years, we encountered very few difficulties. On only one occasion were we criticized by someone who said, “The records of New Moon and Great China are not national products”. The real intention of this type of person was to wipe out genuine national products and promote foreign commodities. They were willing to be the running dogs

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of foreigners. They propagated such a message in various towns in Nanyang and induced the overseas Chinese to suspect the sources of our products. Later, we obtained a certificate issued by the Society for Preserving National Products and were therefore able to clarify the misunderstandings. … The first, second, third and fourth series of our company’s recordings were all carried out in Shanghai. For the fifth series, as all the recordings we made were Cantonese songs, most of the performers were from Hong Kong. So we decided to do our recordings in Hong Kong. However, it was very difficult to locate a suitable place for recording purposes. We spent half a month in search of a studio and finally managed to gain access to the Ming Garden (Ming Yuan). … Other affairs, like the use of musical instruments, also involved much complexity. The music we performed for this phase involved both Chinese and Western musical instruments. We borrowed three pianos from Tsang Fook.1 For practicing purposes, one piano was placed in the studio of Ming Garden and the other two were placed in the private apartments of Mr. Desheng in Kowloon and Mr. Zhao Enrong in Wan Chai …2

Qian Guangren and his New Moon Records Company have drawn the attention of a few researchers in recent years. Yung Sai Shing demonstrates how the musical competence and social connections of Qian Guangren facilitated the operation of his record company, and how Cantonese music and opera were transformed as a result of commodification.3 Andrew Jones highlights the “pocket-book” nature of New Moon, digging out the colonial flavor underneath its nationalistic articulation.4 For the purpose of this chapter, Qian Guangren and his businesses serve as a very good case to illustrate how the triangular connection between Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Guangzhou operated. Guangzhou and the Pearl River Delta hinterland exported commercial talents with their inheritance of the long-term practices of Sino-foreign trade; Shanghai congregated human and material resources from all over the country with its advantageous geographical position and treaty port status; and Hong Kong served as an occasional and ultimately more secure haven against the political turmoil occurring in the mainland. The three cities complemented each other and generated a vigorous cultural industry in the 1920s and 1930s. In the late 1920s and the 1930s, Hong Kong was a preferable location for many small-scale manufacturers coming from the Pearl River Delta to set up their factories, yet many of these factory owners would also register their businesses with the Nationalist Government and have their products labeled “national” for marketing purposes.5 For some industries, especially those involved in art and design, human and technical resources were drawn from Shanghai, as shown by the case of China Can Co. in Shanghai,

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which founded its branch in Hong Kong in 1932 and staffed its design department with Shanghai artists.6 Qian Guangren’s New Moon Records Company was no exception. Qian registered its trademark with the Nationalist Government in 1929 by means of the Liquan Company, a metalware shop he owned in Hong Kong.7 Nonetheless, as seen from the above citation, most of the human and technical resources New Moon needed were drawn from Shanghai. New Moon was therefore bound to be “pocketbook”, as that was the only means for its survival. Qian Guangren’s personal connections lay both in Hong Kong and Shanghai. After graduating from St. Paul’s College, Qian Guangren soon went to Shanghai and worked with the Zhonghua Bank for three years. After spending another six months in an English bookstore, he moved to work in the accounts department of a foreign company called “Fengyu Yanghang” in Chinese. He did not return to Hong Kong until his father asked him to help manage their family metalware business. He soon established his own Liquan Company, and set up branches in Guangzhou and Shanghai. It was on the basis of Liquan Company that New Moon Records was able to have its products (records, gramophones, magazines, and other accessories) distributed in various cities in China.8 Qian’s connection with the Cantonese community in Shanghai was deep-rooted. He was a member of Jingwuhui (the Chinese Athletics Association, hereafter Jingwuhui) and Zhonghua Yinyuehui (the China Music Society) in Shanghai. His friendship with Lü Wencheng — one of the most notable Cantonese musicians who spent the first half of his life in Shanghai and moved to Hong Kong in the late 1930s — probably began in Shanghai. To some extent, it was against the mixed and “multi-vocal”9 environment of Shanghai that New Moon was started and, as I will argue in the following paragraphs, the regional identity of Cantonese music, songs, and opera was established. Commodified Cantonese music continued to flourish in Hong Kong after the war and laid the foundation for the Cantonese pop songs which emerged in the mid-1970s. To appreciate how this process began, we need to have some idea of what life in the Cantonese community in Shanghai between the mid-nineteenth and mid-twentieth centuries was like.

Guangdong Merchants as Patrons of Musical Activities in Shanghai Since Shanghai became a treaty port in 1843, a large number of Guangdong merchants and compradores, notably those from Xiangshan County

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49

(renamed “Zhongshan County” in 1925), went to Shanghai seeking business opportunities. With their massive capital and experience in dealing with foreigners, Guangdong merchants were soon able to establish their sphere of influence in the new treaty port. At around the time of the Taiping Rebellion (1850–1864), Shanghai was filled with Cantonese-speaking traders, compradores, interpreters, labourers, servants, and even Triad members.10 It was estimated that by 1934, the number of Guangdong residents sojourning in Shanghai amounted to more than 300,000.11 With the arrival of more and more Guangdong merchants, regional associations flourished in Shanghai.12 Established in 1872 by Xu Run, Ye Guzhi, Pan Juechen, Tang Jingxing (compradore traders mainly from Xiangshan), the Guang-Zhao Gongsuo (Guangzhou-Zhaoqing Public Office) was one of the most powerful regional associations representing the interests of Cantonese-speaking merchants originating from the Pearl River Delta and West River area.13 In addition to numerous regional associations founded consecutively in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a Pan-Guangdong organization funded by Guang-Zhao Gongsuo and Tung Wah Hospital, namely Guangdong Lü Hu Tongxianghui (the Guangdong Regional Association in Shanghai) was founded in 1933.14 Like most of the regional associations founded in the late Qing and the early Republican period, the ones set up by Guangdong community leaders in Shanghai provided a variety of welfare and other assistance, in particular medical, education, and burial services. For example, the Guang-Zhao Shanzhuang run by Guang-Zhao Gongsuo offered burial places for Cantonese sojourners who died in Shanghai.15 Along with the founding of the Guangdong Lü Hu Tongxianghui, medical services for Guangdong people in Shanghai were also expanded in the 1930s with donations from Guang-Zhao Gongsuo and Tung Wah Hospital. With regard to education, a primary school supported by Guangdong and Zhaoqing merchants in Shanghai was founded in 1913. It was renamed Guang-Zhao Public School (Guang-Zhao Gongxue) and has been managed by Guang-Zhao Gongsuo since 1920. Schools run by regional associations certainly benefited the children of Guangdong merchants and labourers who worked in Shanghai. When Lü Wencheng, who later became a well-known Cantonese musician, went to Shanghai with his father in 1901, the school he entered was also supported by Guangdong and Zhaoqing merchants.16 Another association that was closely connected with the sojourning Guangdong community was Shanghai Jingwuhui, a martial arts and athletics association with its head office stationed in Shanghai and branches in various cities in China and overseas Chinese communities in Southeast Asia. Although the history of Jingwuhui has always been associated with Huo Yuanjia — the famous Hebei martial arts master who came to Shanghai

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and won in a number of martial art contests in 1909 — Jingwuhui was in fact supported by a group of Guangdong and Jiangsu merchants who practiced martial arts with Huo for a brief period and later revered him as the founder of the Association. Huo died in 1909, one year before the Jingwuhui was formally created. Many core members of Shanghai Jingwuhui were of Guangdong origin, and among them the most notable were Chen Gongzhe and Lu Weichang. Both Chen and Lu were Cantonese businessmen coming from Xiangshan County. Whereas Lu was first an English secretary working in a foreign firm, then the general manager of the Xinruixiang Metalware Co., Chen Gongzhe (1890–1961) was the son of Chen Shengtang, the owner of Yueruixiang Metalware Co. in Shanghai. Fond of playing soccer, Chen Gongzhe studied martial arts in Shanghai Jingwu Athletics School and used to perform in sports events run by Jingwuhui in 1912. After graduating, Chen Gongzhe became the major patron of Shanghai Jingwuhui. A third core leader of Jingwuhui was Yao Chanbo, a Jiangsu merchant specializing in the dyeing business. Chen, Lu, and Yao were together nicknamed the “Three Companies of Jingwu” (Jingwu san gongsi), after the three most famous department stores invested by Xiangshan merchants in Shanghai, namely Sincere, Wing On, and Sun Sun.17 For the purpose of this chapter, it is important to note that GuangZhao Gongsuo, Jingwuhui, and many other associations were also major sponsors of a variety of Cantonese musical activities in Shanghai. The reason that Jingwuhui organized a considerable number of music activities was that one of the training courses offered by the Association was military parade, and military music was needed to perform for this particular purpose. The dancing classes given by Jingwuhui also needed to be accompanied by “contemporary music” (jinyue). Subsequently, the recreation department (youyi bu) of Jingwuhui established a music section, practicing Western music, Peking music, and Cantonese music on a weekly basis.18 Guang-Zhao Gongsuo, Guangzhao Public School, and Jingwuhui were closely connected. Some members of the board of directors of Jingwuhui also served on the board of directors of Guang-Zhao Gongsuo. Part of the real estate owned by Guang-Zhao Gongsuo was utilized by Jingwuhui.19 In 1917, Guang-Zhao Gongsuo invited members of Jingwuhui to teach martial arts there. At the graduation ceremony of Guang-Zhao Public School, the music programmes were performed by members of Jingwuhui.20 More specialized music groups run by Cantonese soon sprang up in Shanghai. In the 1910s, a Cantonese music band was set up in the club affiliated to the Shanghai Qunxian Chamber of Commerce (Shanghai Qunxian Shanghui). In 1918, a Cantonese music division was founded by the Shanghai Laborers’ Association (Shanghai Gongjie Xiejinhui). Despite its name, this “laborers’ association” was actually run by merchants. In

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1919, a more formal “China Music Association” (Zhonghua Yinyue Hui) was founded by Chen Tiesheng, another core member of Jingwuhui.21 The China Music Association was funded by Liang Shutang and the previously mentioned Lu Weichang, both of whom were branded as “Yueshen” (Cantonese gentry) in an article published in Shanghai Shenbao. According to the same article, the majority of the members of the China Music Association were of Cantonese clique (Yuebang). Although members of these organizations were in most cases labelled as “Cantonese” or of “Yue” origin, individuals from Hong Kong who took part in the recreational activities organized by the Cantonese community in Shanghai would occasionally have their specific identity underlined. When the China Music Association performed a modern Cantonese play entitled “Aihe chao” (The Current of Love), it was reported that the stage setting was designed and painted by Zeng Hanchu, “a famous artist from Hong Kong”.22 Yet these specialized music groups were far from “professional”. Most of their members were amateurs, and many were Cantonese merchants and employees of companies run by Cantonese in Shanghai. The staff of Sincere Department Store organized their own Cantonese opera troupe and performed in Sincere’s theatre.23 The script of Furong hen (Hibiscus Regret), a Cantonese opera performed with much popularity in Shanghai, was reported to have been written by “a certain Mr. Chen, the secretary of a certain tobacco company of Hong Kong”. The songs were so widely admired that Pathe Records had the opera recorded for sale.24 Likewise, the staff of Wing On Company ran their own Cantonese opera troupe which received considerable support from their general manager, L. S. Kwok, who was usually called “Shuang Ge” (Brother Shuang) by his employees, expressing a sense of intimacy. Kwok, a Cantonese opera fan, was at the same time involved intensely in the affairs of Guang-Zhao Gongsuo.25 As will be shown in the following paragraphs, prior to the emergence of statesupported professional companies in the post-1950s epoch, it was the amateur “players” (wanjia) who led the fashion of Cantonese music, which to some extent transformed the character of Cantonese opera and gave rise to the Cantonese pop songs (shidaiqu) which became further popularized with the expansion of the recording business.

Shanghai as a “Grand Theatre” The Cantonese music and opera activities mentioned above did not exist in a vacuum. As a cultural and economic metropolis attracting migrants from different parts of China, Shanghai assembled a variety of regional arts and

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music activities.26 In the late Qing and Republican period, the majority of opera performed in Shanghai was Peking Opera, with stars like Mei Lanfang who made frequent visits and aroused much enthusiasm among the audience in the metropolis. Cantonese opera in Shanghai was therefore performed side by side with other regional operas and received much comment from the Shanghai audiences, as well as artists who had a better appreciation of Peking opera. Cantonese opera performances in Shanghai thrived from 1919, with an increasing number of opera troupes coming mainly from Guangzhou, and came to a halt in 1938 because of the outbreak of war.27 Throughout this booming period, the support of Cantonese merchants was telling. In 1919, Qunfang Yanying, a well-known Cantonese opera troupe led by the celebrated Cantonese opera actress Li Xuefang, was invited to play in Shanghai. The success of Li’s performance triggered some Guangdong merchants to invest in the construction of “Guang Theatre”, which later became the major theatre in Shanghai for staging Cantonese opera.28 In 1928, another “Guangdong Grand Theatre” (Guangdong Daxiyuan) was erected. In the 1920s and 1930s, more than twenty opera troupes coming from Guangzhou and Hong Kong visited Shanghai.29 The Cantonese operas performed in “Guang Theatre” and “Guangdong Grand Theatre” most likely introduced to the Shanghai audiences some scenes unique to Guangzhou and Hong Kong. On the stage setting of the opera played by the Gongheyue Troupe in 1923, paintings portraying “Changdi of Guangzhou” and “Houhai of Hong Kong” were presented, and were highlighted in an article reporting the performance in Shenbao.30 Shanghai was also a centre for literati, with writers coming from all over the country to test their limits. The presence of Guangdong scholars and writers in Shanghai helped amplify the fame of Cantonese opera in the metropolis. It is reported that the performance of Li Xuefang in Shanghai in 1919 attracted much attention. In 1920, a booklet entitled Li Xuefang was compiled by a certain “Wo Foshan ren” and published by the East Asia Bookstore in Shanghai. Recalling the performance of Li, the booklet highlights the involvement of Kang Youwei in advertising her fame as follows: [Kang Youwei wrote for Li Xuefang] a very large piece of calligraphy as an ad. His script was as magnificent as flying dragons and dancing snakes. The boss of the theatre was so grateful to Kang Youwei that he printed 10,000 pieces of his calligraphy in color, and had them posted everywhere. Immediately the name of Li Xuefang was mentioned by thousands of people. Whether they knew Li Xuefang or not, they appreciated the calligraphy of Kang Youwei. The reputation of Li Xuefang was subsequently elevated.31

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In addition to this, it was said that Kang Youwei honoured Li Xuefang with the title of “Princess of Snowy Beauty”.32 In November 1920, when Li Xuefang came to Shanghai again to perform in the newly completed Guang Theatre for charity, it was reported that her performance was promoted by the Association of Commerce of Guangdong Merchants in Shanghai (Lü Hu Yueqiao Shangye Lianhe Hui) and sponsored by Jian Shiqing, one of the directors and managers of the Nanyang Brothers’ Tobacco Company.33 It is perhaps interesting to note how place-of-origin connections might have cropped up on this occasion — Li Xuefang was a Nanhai native, as were Kang Youwei and Jian Shiqing.34 The author of the booklet, Wo Foshan ren, was very likely of Foshan (and therefore Nanhai) origin. He picked up the penname of Wu Jianren, the famous Guangdong novel writer who had been prevalent in Shanghai until his death in 1910.35 In short, with the support of Jian Shiqing, the calligraphy of Kang Youwei (who always sold his calligraphy at a good price), and the compilation of Wo Foshan ren, the reputation of Li Xuefang was enhanced. Later, Li Xuefang herself became a Shanghai sojourner after marrying the son of a Guangdong merchant in Shanghai in 1923, and retired from performing.36 As expected, Cantonese opera performed in Shanghai was subject to criticisms from Shanghai critics and audiences. When Li Xuefang performed in Shanghai, it is said that “six out of ten in the audience were of Shanghai origin”. The same was applied to another Cantonese opera actress, Xi Lixia, who went to Shanghai in later years.37 One also has to bear in mind that before the 1930s, the majority of Cantonese opera was performed in “court language” (guanhua) rather than Cantonese. This is probably why Cantonese opera could be appreciated by non-Cantonese audiences in those days.38 Compared to Peking and Kun operas, Cantonese opera was always considered inferior. In Shenbao, the stage setting of Cantonese opera was criticized for its lack of sophistication.39 Similar comments were also applied on its costume: Cantonese opera is branched from the Han tone, thus their costumes are similar … Into the late Qing, the Manchu costumes were applied … After the Revolution, it has become a fashion that everything has to be reformed. Modern fashion has replaced the Manchu ones and become the stage costumes for Cantonese opera … No matter what dynasty a Cantonese opera is set against, the performers wear the same set of costumes. All they care about is whether the costumes are trendy or not. They never pay attention to the design of the costumes and have no idea whether they fit the historical background of the story or not.40

From time to time, commentaries on Cantonese operas were published in Shenbao and other printed media in Shanghai.41 Apart from Shenbao,

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magazines like Xizazhi (Theatre Magazine) also served as a forum for commenting on various regional operas, as well as for comparing Chinese with Western theatres. It is not uncommon to find in articles issued in such entertainment magazines as Xizazhi that Peking opera was always the yardstick for evaluating performances of Cantonese opera. In an article entitled “Yueban yu Jingban zhi yitong” (The similarities and differences between Cantonese and Peking troupes), the Cantonese opera actress Li Xuefang was not as highly regarded as was mentioned previously: Li Xuefang’s looks are only average. Her performance is not that outstanding. What she has is a clear and bright voice, and her articulation of words is comprehensible … When I know a little bit more about Cantonese opera, I may pay more attention to the male troupes … of which many do have good actors … Unfortunately, Cantonese troupes are never as good as Peking troupes … Cantonese troupes always perform scripts with a complete story which is in most cases poorly structured and bores the audience … In recent years, many Cantonese opera troupes have come to Shanghai. Both male performers … and female performers … invested a great deal in improving their costumes and stage design, which are still mere imitations of Peking troupes. Many of their scripts are adapted from those of Peking operas. Nonetheless, their stage performances and martial arts are never as skilful as those of the Peking troupes.42

Even the Cantonese commentators themselves admitted the performances of Cantonese opera troupes were inferior to that of Peking opera troupes, as suggested in an article published in another theatre magazine issued in Hong Kong.43 Poems collected in the booklet compiled by Wo Foshan ren ridiculing the negative comments on the performance of Li Xuefang also reflect tensions existing between Shanghai and Cantonese fans: The fever brought about by Xuefang when she came to Shanghai for the first time in August 1919 has already been described. Occasionally there were some average audiences who found the performance unsatisfactory, but they were only the minority. Some Shanghai writers say that Xuefang is not as good as Suzhou Mei and write three poems to criticize her. Their comments are in fact unfair, and their theatre commentaries unprofessional. Xuefang’s skills and voice might have some imperfections, but they are remarkable on the whole. A certain Chen Xiaodie writes the following poem defending Li Xuefang as follows: The songs are so good that they are a rarity in the Heavens, How can they fall onto the human world … The Qi people come to listen to the singing of the Chu, and Unwisely they mistook Wu songs as Yue songs.44

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It is not the purpose of this chapter to evaluate the above comments. What I would like to stress is that Shanghai as a cultural centre pulled together opera performers coming from different parts of China and promoted much exchange and competition. As for the case of Cantonese actress Li Xuefang, some Peking opera performers did go to watch her performance when she came to Shanghai in 1919, and her presentation was subject to critiques by spectators with a metropolitan taste. Likewise, Cantonese opera troupes also absorbed many elements of their Peking and Kun opera counterparts during their stays in Shanghai.45 In 1926, a joint performance of fourteen opera troupes was held by the Association of Opera Performers (Lingjie Lianhehui) in Shanghai. It was the first time that Cantonese opera troupes joined the Association and the joint performance. The action taken by the Cantonese troupes was highly praised, as shown in a report in Shenbao: Joint show by fourteen opera troupes held by the Association of Opera Performers: … This is the first time that comrades from Guangdong joined the show. The New China Troupe (Xinzhonghua ban) from Guangdong has already been in Shanghai for a few months, and its name has become well known. Recently, it joined our Association to express a sense of solidarity … What our Association wants to do is bring together the famous performers from the south and the north, and fill the appetite of audiences from different sectors.46

Conventional studies suggest that Cantonese opera underwent a substantial change in terms of opera script, singing, and performance style in the 1920s and 1930s, and yet how this transformation might have come about is rarely explained. Careful documentation is needed to explore the mechanisms behind the change, and what happened in Shanghai might be one of the keys to the puzzle. Another distinguished feature of the Cantonese operas in the 1930s and 1940s is that, more and more, recently composed opuses for instrumental or vocal performances were blended with the established genres of Cantonese opera, thus giving them a more “modern” touch. As shown in the following paragraphs, such a transformation is also partly due to the booming Cantonese music activities and their exchanges with other music performances in Shanghai in the 1920s and 1930s.

A Mixing of Voices Pre-1950s Shanghai was an assembly of multiple voices — both in terms of language and music. During a time when national language (Mandarin)

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had not yet been popularized, the use of various dialects simultaneously was not uncommon in Shanghai. Lectures held by the reading club of Guang-Zhao Gongsuo were always delivered in Mandarin, Cantonese, and Shanghai dialect, as shown in a report on a public lecture held in January 1920: Mr. Hu gave his speech in common language (putongyu, i.e. Mandarin) and had Mr. Lin Yingchao translate it into Cantonese. Mr. Tang spoke in Cantonese and had Mr. Zhou Xisan translate his speech into Shanghai dialect … The talks held this coming Sunday will be given by Mr. Wen and Mr. Luo, and will be accompanied by Cantonese music performed by the members of the Laborers Association (Gongjie Xiejinhui).47

Shanghai in the 1920s and 1930s was also multi-vocal, in a sense that different types of music would be performed in the same “tongle(yue)hui”, of which the double meaning expressed well the nature of these performances — various types of music came together and people involved would have fun together. An assortment of musical performances — Western, Cantonese, Peking, Fujian, Shanghai — was universal among the music programmes organized by various societies and associations in Shanghai. During a music gathering convened by YMCA in Shanghai in June 1920, programmes were scheduled as follows: 1. Pipa solo; 2. Vocal solo, by Ms. Myra B. Olive, the music director of a certain SinoWestern Girls’ School; 3. Traditional music played with thirty-two musical instruments by the orchestra of the Shanghai Municipal Council; 4. Min Music, performed by Fujian Ronglu Music Society; 5. Instrumental ensemble, Chinese lute and zither. Chinese lute, pipa. Chinese music played by Western instruments; 6. Kun Opera; 7. Cantonese music, performed by the Music Department of Qunxian Chamber of Commerce; 8. Instrumental Ensemble, by the Department of Performing Arts of the Youth Propaganda Team.48 Similarly, the programme of a gathering summoned by the Laborers’ Association in November 1920 was no less monotonous: 1. Ring the bell to announce the opening of the meeting; 2. Western music, performed by the military music band of Jingwuhui; 3. Announce the reason for calling the meeting; 4. Cantonese music; 5. Speeches; 6. Cantonese music;

Where Guangdong Meets Shanghai

7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

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Comic show; Instrumental Ensemble, Pipa and Yangqin; Speeches; Shanghai music; Peking music; Cantonese music; Greeting; Tea gathering.49

Nor would the programmes of the Cantonese-dominated China Music Society have been confined to Cantonese music. In a spring gathering held by the Society in April 1923, the programmes included “Cantonese music”, “Peking Opera”, “Strings”, “Music of Antiquity (gudiao)”, “Buddhist chant”, and various instrumental ensembles.50 The programmes listed at a gathering of Jingwuhui held in 1924 were equally diverse, consisting of a brass band, Cantonese music, speeches, martial arts, dances, and comic shows.51 Exchanges between various music bands, or what were then called yaji (elegant gatherings) in Shanghai in the 1920s were frequent. It is said that the famous Cantonese musician Lü Wencheng was on good terms with Ren Huichu (1887–1952), a celebrated yangqin player of Jiangnan music, and as a result of their frequent contacts and exchanges Lü Wencheng introduced elements of Jiangnan music into Cantonese music. One of the most well-known pieces of Cantonese music composed by Lü Wencheng, Pinghu Qiuyue (Autumn Moon on the Calm Lake), was said to be an adaptation and modification of Jiangnan melodies.52 He Huang, who practiced yehu (coconut hu) with Lü Wencheng in Hong Kong, recalled that Lü once confirmed to him that Pinghu Qiuyue was compiled by adapting and modifying various Jiangnan melodies.53 Since then Pinghu Qiuyue has assumed its “Cantonese identity” to an extent that its Jiangnan origin has probably been overlooked. The life story of Lü Wencheng (1898–1981) resembles the evolution of the Cantonese music he composed. Born in Xiangshan, Lü was brought up in Shanghai and finally settled in Hong Kong. Like Qian Guangren, Lü Wencheng spent the first half of his life in Shanghai. Unlike Qian, Lü was born into a humble family. He went to Shanghai with his father in the early 1910s. He then studied in a school supported by Guangdong and Zhaoqing merchants and worked as an apprentice, first in a cake shop and then with a goldsmith. At the age of twenty-one, Lü joined the Cantonese music groups of Shanghai Jingwuhui, Jiande Saving Society, and the China Music Society. This was probably how Lü Wencheng came to know Qian Guangren, as both were members of these societies and associations. From time to time, Lü performed with such Cantonese music players as Chen

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Tiesheng (founder of the China Music Society), Situ Mengyan (a violin player who returned to China from the United States), Yin Zizhong, He Dasha, and Qian Guangren in the Shanghai Central Hall of Jingwuhui, Guangdong Grand Theatre, and also the YMCA in Hongkou district.54 By the mid-1920s, Lü Wencheng had already become very well known among the Chinese musicians in Shanghai. When Shenbao began to run a special column on music, Lü was invited to contribute an essay. He wrote a piece illustrating the technique of playing copper-stringed lute and erhu, in which he expressed his hope of preserving the essence of Chinese music.55 Paradoxically, the character of regional music, be it of Cantonese or Jiangnan origin, was shaped in a wider context of seeking a new identity for the Chinese music.56 The Datong Yuehui (Great Unity Music Society) in Shanghai was one of the pioneers of this, experimenting with the possibility of achieving “great unity” (datong) between Chinese and Western music.57 To reform Chinese music, Datong Yuehui suggested a number of practical measures. First, it proposed recovering the approaches of antiquity (gufa) and integrating them with Western approaches. Second, it suggested that the note “C” played by the piano was to be the central note for all instruments. Third, it advocated reforming Chinese music scores, suggesting that from then on they all should be written horizontally, instead of vertically. All notes should be written in both Chinese and Western styles. For polyphony instruments such as qin, se, sheng, pa, a five-line staff should be applied side by side with the traditional Chinese music score. For monophony instruments such as xiao, di, huqin, and sanxian, musical notations should be marked with both Arabic numerals and Chinese gongche notes.58 Discussions on reforming Chinese music and instruments were common among musicians in China in the 1920s. Traditional Chinese instruments were criticized for their narrow range, weak volume, and lack of half notes.59 Under such circumstances, it is not a coincidence that the high-pitched erhu (gaohu), the invention of which was often attributed to Lü Wencheng and Situ Mengyan, was invented in the mid-1920s. It is said that having been inspired by the composition of violin, Lü and Situ replaced the silk strings of erhu with steel strings. With its distinctly high and sharp timbre, gaohu has been used mostly for performing Cantonese music, as well as for accompanying Cantonese opera.60 The Xin Yuefu (New Songs) published by Shanghai Jingwuhui in 1923 is another example demonstrating the effort made by Cantonese musicians in Shanghai to integrate traditional and modern, as well as Chinese and Western music. Compiled by Chen Tiesheng, a Xinhui native who served as the secretary of Jingwuhui, managing its music department, Xin Yuefu categorizes music into three genres, namely: “Music of Antiquity” (guyue);

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“Contemporary Music” (jinyue); and “Music of Great Unity” (datongyue). Both “Music of Antiquity” and “Contemporary Music” were Chinese music, and both were modified to allow the application of an elaborate erhu finger technique for the purpose of accompanying dance. The majority of the musical pieces collected in Xin Yuefu, be they “antique” or “contemporary,” are scored in traditional Chinese goche staff. Even the current national anthem, Qingyun ge, is scored in the traditional manner. What is worth noting is the category of “Music of Great Unity”. Included in this category are four pieces of “contemporary Chinese music” (Fenghuangtai, Liuyaojin, Daochunlai, and Xiaotaohong) scored in five-line staff, and a few pieces of Western music scored in traditional Chinese gongche staff. The notion of “Great Unity” (datong) thus implied an ideal integration of Chinese and Western music, as explained by Chen Tiesheng as follows: In terms of form, Chinese instruments might be different from Western instruments. Nonetheless, both Chinese music and Western music are in fact using the same sets of musical notes. The seven Chinese notes “fan gong che shang yi shi he” are equivalent to the seven Western notes “do rei me fa so la ti”. The idea of the half-note and polyphony of Western music can also be applied to Chinese music. Recently, those who know Chinese music have disapproved of Western music, and those who know Western music have disapproved of Chinese music. Neither of these views is fair. One should have a cosmopolitan outlook and should be willing to help one another. I expect that in the future somebody could appreciate both Chinese and Western musical works, and then the great unity of all music of the world will be achieved. This is why I swear that I will take the initiative to ask those who know Western music to offer several pieces of Western music scored in the Chinese way and several pieces of Chinese music scored in the Western manner. I believe that such a practice will be followed by others in the future. Isn’t it a good trial?61

To some extent, Chen Tiesheng’s idea of “Great Unity” was put into practice in the performance of Cantonese music, song, and opera. In a performance held by the China Music Association in 1922, the instruments used for playing the Cantonese piece Xiaotaohong included piano, pipa, huqin, yueqin, and violin.62 While Lü Wencheng recited the Cantonese opera piece Yanzilou in zihou arias (soprano voice) in 1925, his singing was accompanied by violin, played by Situ Mengyan.63 The recital was later recorded and was well received.64 It was also from the mid-1920s that more and more Western instruments were applied to the performances of Cantonese music, Cantonese opera, and Cantonese songs. Among the Cantonese operas and songs recorded by

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New Moon from 1926 to 1930, many were accompanied by both Chinese and Western instruments, including violin, saxophone, and trumpet. A peculiar piece, entitled “Shouzai paito” (Shouzai goes dating) combined Cantonese slang, standard Chinese, and fractured English and French phrases, and was entirely accompanied by piano. Another piece of Cantonese opera entitled “Taiping quan” (A dog in the peaceful time), was accompanied by trumpet and other Western instruments because the composer insisted that special sound effects (those of gun, bomb, canon, steamship, and trumpet) were needed to portray the turmoil caused by warfare.65 Today, a full-scale Cantonese opera band has either violin or gaohu as the lead, and in addition to Chinese instruments — of which some may be “electrified” to amplify their volumes — a number of Western instruments are also applied including saxophone, cello, banjo, Hawaii guitar, and electronic guitar. Players have been so used to such a practice that they might take no notice of the Western origin of the instruments and to some extent the Shanghai origin of such a mixed ensemble. The Mandarin popular songs (shidaiqu) emerging in Shanghai by the late 1920s were also incorporated into Cantonese operas composed in the 1930s and 1940s. One of the most common Mandarin popular songs adapted into the Cantonese opera was Maomaoyu (The Drizzle). Compiled around 1927 by Li Jinhui (1891–1967), a composer known for his “lascivious” tunes, Maomaoyu was considered “licentious yellow music” by orthodox musicians and educationalists. Paradoxically, while these newly appeared Mandarin pop songs were considered threatening to the established order, Li Jinhui and his counterparts were seeking a new national identity for Chinese music through the writing of popular Mandarin songs.66 Other Mandarin pop songs adapted by Cantonese opera composers in the 1940s include Yueer wanwan zhao jiuzhou (The Moon-blanched Land), Heri jun zailai (When will you come again?), and Qiushui yiren (The girl by the autumn stream).67 Adaptation of foreign or non-Guangdong songs and languages into Cantonese opera was not a particularly novel idea. Among the late Qing Cantonese opera scripts, the insertion of melodies originating from other provinces (waijiang xiaodiao) was common.68 While Liang Qichao compiled a Cantonese opera script for “popular education purposes”, not only did he adapt modern military music into the script, but he also inserted fragments of English and Japanese phrases into Cantonese dialogue.69 Early adaptations, however, often ignored the intonation of Cantonese dialects. By the 1940s, as shown by the Cantonese opera and songs broadcast at that time, the issue of intonation was much better handled. In other words, the “Cantonese-ness” of Cantonese opera and songs was fully accomplished in a linguistic sense by the mid-twentieth century and, paradoxically, part of this process took place in Shanghai.

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The music activities patronized by Guangdong merchants in Shanghai came to a halt when Shanghai fell under Japanese occupation in 1938, and did not resume until after liberation. As late as 1952, Cantonese opera performances supported by Guang-Zhao Gongsuo were still held at the theatre of Wing On Department Store in Jiujiang Road in Shanghai.70 Collections of Cantonese music scores were still published in Shanghai in the late 1950s, indicating the presence of a market.71 A total retreat of Cantonese culture from Shanghai probably did not occur until the 1960s, when radical political and economic changes were applied all over the country. On an individual basis, Cantonese musician Lü Wencheng spent more and more time in Hong Kong, and took charge of the music department of the Zhongsheng Charity Society from 1935.72 Transplanting his Shanghai experiences to Hong Kong, Lü composed a large number of Cantonese pop songs and continued to accompany his music with both Chinese and Western instruments. Lü Wencheng continued to be active in composing short pieces of Cantonese songs through the 1950s.73 It is not too overstated to suggest that his pioneering efforts laid the foundation for the emergence of Cantonese pop songs in the 1970s.

Where Is Hong Kong in Hong Kong History? This chapter starts with a description of a Cantonese businessman who set up his recording company in Hong Kong in the mid-1920s. Yet right away the focus of the chapter shifts to Shanghai, and Hong Kong seems to vanish throughout the analysis. In fact, there is no way to write a pre-war history of Hong Kong without moving away from the city, as this is exactly what the subjects of our analysis — the trans-regionally situated individuals and the population as a whole — were doing to accomplish their dreams. When Cantonese merchants found Shanghai a better place to expand their business, they sojourned in Shanghai. When labourers found San Francisco a better place to strive for a livelihood, they jumped on board a ship and started an adventurous voyage. When both merchants and labourers found the political situation of mainland China shaky, they fled to Hong Kong to continue their venture. Prior to the 1950s, the cultural identity shaped by the Cantonese who sojourned between Hong Kong, Guangzhou, Shanghai, and many other cities bore the label “Cantonese” (Yue). Since the 1960s, a more distinguished Hong Kong culture emerged, albeit a significant portion of which was a continuation of the preceding Cantonese culture. The above discussion shows that the regional character of the Cantonese culture emerged in a trans-regional context along with the movement of its people;

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and that the very marker “regional” falls short of representing the sentiment of the cultural brokers, as they always presented their vernacular culture in the name of national pursuit or national products. Thus the writing of a history of Hong Kong can never be bound to the “Hong Kong” in a territorial sense, as many of its people have always been flexible and resourceful enough to manoeuvre among various hubs, and to seek for themselves the best possible expression of the cultural identities they prefer.74

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Transborder Visuality: The Changing Patterns of Visual Exchange between Hong Kong and South China Eric Ma*

As described by Sinn and Ching in this volume, Hong Kong had, in history, facilitated a global flow of talents. How has the region’s translocal process been restructured in the twentieth century since the post-Mao reforms? Hong Kong, as a satellite metropolis of global capitalism, has for many years been serving as the cultural mediator of “Western” consumer ideologies in mainland China. As China moves away from collectivism to market socialism, individual fulfillment has been reprioritized as a legitimate pursuit. With the official Chinese endorsement of consumption, images of Hong Kong’s “Western” and “modern” lifestyles are being powerfully reworked on both sides of the disappearing border. The direct impact of Hong Kong media in China is diminishing, while exchanges between Hong Kong and mainland cities have been intensifying. At this historical juncture, the media have become cultural intermediaries, introducing new ways of life and cultivating the desire for individual freedom. It is against this contextual backdrop that I propose to map out the dialectical interplay of transborder visuality between Hong Kong and South China. Transborder visuality refers to the dynamics involved in the transfer of visual culture from one geographic location to another. Lifestyle magazines with transborder connections will be the focus of analysis.

*

The project is funded by The 2022 Foundation and Hong Kong RGC Grant (4645/05H).

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Some Operational Conceptions Cultural transfer in global capitalism has been studied in theoretical formulations of cultural imperialism, international communication and diffusionist modernization (see Tomlinson, 1999; Stevenson, 1992). Early linear theses have recently been replaced by a proliferation of studies of cultural globalization which propose more dialectic and multi-faceted cultural exchanges between the “West” and “the rest” of the world (Hall, 1992). These studies stress the domestication (Cohen, 2002), “glocalization” (Robertson, 1995), and “transculturation” (J. M. Chan, 2002) of dominant “Western” cultural forms, such as Hollywood movies and transnational news in non-Western countries. In these debates, global-to-local cultural exchanges are framed as one of the global consequences of Western modernity (Giddens, 1990), and have recently been pluralized in the thesis of multiple modernities, which argues that Western modernity has been appropriated in different countries in very different forms (Eisenstadt, 2000). In line with these general arguments of cultural multiplicity, there are specific case studies that see Japan, Taiwan, Singapore, Korea, Hong Kong and China as alternative cases of capitalist modernity, stressing unevenness, contradictions, contingencies, contextual differences and different formats of cultural transfer (Berger, 1988; Rofel, 1999; Yeh, 2000). Thus cultural globalization, as one of the consequences of modernity, has to be seen in a more refined scale that takes into account the different forms and formats of modern visual productions in these countries. Building on the literature on cultural globalization (such as Appadurai, 1996; Bauman, 1991; Eisenstadt, 2000; Giddens, 1990; Tomlinson, 1999) and visual studies (such as Mirzoeff, 2002; Mitchell, 1994; Rogoff, 1998), I propose to make theoretical and methodological advances regarding the very specific focus of transborder visuality. At a time when China is undergoing modernization in its most aggressive stage, popular images “travel” to China and re-appear in slightly altered forms. These images can be global or local, but when they “land” in a particular Chinese city, they are often repackaged to appeal to local audiences. This visual transfer and repackaging, or “transborder visuality”, is often reworked by local cultural intermediaries such as journalists, movie directors, advertisers and designers, who aggressively search the global pool of image resources for ideas that can be used and adapted locally. Transborder images are closely connected to emerging ways of life among middle-class global consumers. Theorists argue that late capitalism is moving from the economy of material production to an economy of signs and symbols (Lash and Urry, 1994), and consumer societies are experiencing a visual or pictorial turn in which visuality is one of the prime motivators

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of consumption (Mirzoeff, 2002; Mitchell, 1994). This project attempts to bring the cultural practices of visual production into the theoretical map of cultural globalization. This very focused and small area of study represents a significant link which can show how pools of images are cascaded from consumer societies of high modernity to newly developed cities of satellite modernities, and are then relayed in turn to various developing countries aspiring towards modern city life. The particular focus of this project is the shifting role of Hong Kong’s sophisticated visual culture in the aggressively “developing modernity” of South China. In this study, I do not attempt to provide a quantitative mapping of media industries. Instead, I try to provide a slice of the interlocking network of transborder visuality between Hong Kong and South China. Through the analysis of selected magazines and advertising firms, I try to trace the social and cultural networks of a loosely but also densely connected community of visual producers working in China and in Hong Kong. My research assistant and I have content-analyzed the visual products (magazines, advertisements) and interviewed visual producers (editors, stylists, designers, educators, journalists, etc.). From these data, we will present a generalized pattern of transborder visuality to better understand the changing roles of Hong Kong visual culture in South China.

1980s: Hong Kong as Information Provider Case Study #1: Xianggang Feng Qing The first case is a Guangzhou-based magazine entitled Xianggang Feng Qing. Founded in 1985, Xianggang Feng Qing was groundbreaking in that it specifically covered Hong Kong lifestyles and culture in a lighthearted way. Practically the only publication of this sort in the mainland media industry in the mid-1980s, it served as a window on Hong Kong for mainland readers for many years. After 1997, however, Hong Kong has no longer been the most prominent focus of the magazine. In 2001, the publication was revamped to become a trendy consumerist magazine. Thus it is an illustrative case that demonstrates the changing cultural interactions between Hong Kong and China in the past two decades. When it was first launched in 1985, Xianggang Feng Qing took the market by storm; it was an instant hit among readers. It was priced at 0.65 yuan per copy but could soon be found marked up to a black market price of 1.2–1.5 yuan in other Chinese provinces. Sales figures rose rapidly and the initial 100,000-copy print run increased to a circulation of several

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hundred thousands of copies per issue. Xianggang Feng Qing also caught the attention of Hong Kong journalists; it was described as an “unprecedented” publication in the mainland for providing Hong Kong information in a comprehensive and non-judgmental style.1 We did a brief content analysis of the early issues of the magazine and found that most of the content covered included, in descending order, social information, leisure activities, economic information, and a very small dose of political news. Since there were conspicuous differences between Hong Kong and China, and the information flow across the border was rather restricted, the magazine became a very popular publication that satisfied its readers’ needs for information about — and desire for — the Hong Kong way of life. Many readers wrote to the editor saying the magazine was unique and that it stood out from the many other popular magazines on the market.2 The role of Hong Kong as information provider for the development of visual culture in South China in the 1980s can also be illustrated by the influence of Hong Kong graphic designers. To map the initial exchanges between Hong Kong and South China, we interviewed Mr. Kan Tai-keung, an influential designer based in Hong Kong, Mr. Zhang Xiaoping, a leading advertising executive in China, and Mr. Yin Dingbang, a veteran of design education and a pioneer in commercial design in Guangzhou. We also did several site visits to selected design schools and advertising firms in South China. Many of our informants there vividly recalled the “eye-opening” encounters of the late 1970s, when Kan Tai-keung and other Hong Kong designers brought a wide array of Hong Kong design works to the Guangzhou Academy of Art & Design. Mainland designers, arts teachers and school administrators enthusiastically received those exhibitions and seminars. We triangulated this piece of information with Yin Dingbang, then the teacher, department chair and senior leader of the Guangzhou Academy. He acknowledged that Hong Kong played an influential role in the early 1980s in feeding China’s design industry with updated information and Western design works. A substantial percentage of the teaching samples, curricula and textbooks at the Guangzhou Academy were materials borrowed from Hong Kong. In 1987, the influential journal Packaging and Design documented the impact of Hong Kong designers’ works in South China with its special issue on Kan Tai-keung.3 These visits of Hong Kong graphic designers to the Guangzhou Academy of Art and Design opened up new concepts of modern commercial design to mainland educators who were more familiar with the technical aspects of traditional arts. Later, the Guangzhou Academy developed their strategy of “commercializing” design education. They set up their own design companies and have remained active in the mainland design industry ever since. Yin Dingbang describes the role of Hong Kong in the 1970s and 1980s in vivid and precise terms:

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“China was a walled country separated from the outside world, and Hong Kong was the only opening for Chinese people to get information from the outside. Hong Kong’s most important and historical role at that time was just that, a window on the world.” This description is also compatible with other reports on the influence of Hong Kong media in South China. Since the “open door” policy was instituted in the late 1970s, Hong Kong media had become an increasingly strong presence in the lives of people in South China. The most frequent exposure to outside programming was from the spillover of broadcasting signals from Hong Kong television stations, the frequencies of which can be received across the entire Pearl River region. Audience reports show that Hong Kong programming, comprising both local productions and foreign programs carried by Hong Kong channels, were very popular. Exposure to Hong Kong programming had created demanding media audiences and increased the pressure for media commercialization and liberalization. Co-productions, joint ventures, visits, international forums, television and film festivals, and sharing of expertise had become frequent. Hong Kong and its international affiliations had become the “demonstrators”, providing Chinese media with a new discursive context in which market-driven visual culture was a dominant operational framework (J. Chan, 1996, 1993).

1990s: Hong Kong as a Source of Modern Imagination In the first decade of the open-door policy, Hong Kong served as a key information provider, helping to bridge the huge information gap between China and the world. In the 1990s, while the British colony still served as a channel of outside information, Hong Kong’s visual culture increasingly became a source of modern imagination. The continued proliferation of Hong Kong media products in China, the desire among China’s rising middle class to catch up with modern living, the prominent discourse of Hong Kong’s return to China in 1997, and the increasingly clear articulation of a strong local cultural identity in Hong Kong are the most obvious of the many factors which fuelled the imagination of Hong Kong as a signpost of modern living. Content analysis of our target case, Xianggang Feng Qing, indicates that not only did the mainland–Hong Kong information gap contribute to the popularity of the magazine for more than a decade, but that the ideological gap between the two social settings also rendered the magazine an attractive source of cultural imagination. In the 1980s, mainland media coverage of

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Hong Kong was mostly negative. The official policy was to condemn capitalism. Xianggang Feng Qing, however, had chosen a relatively neutral stance so that it could introduce both Hong Kong’s modern advancement and the dark side of capitalism. The magazine was a tremendous ideological breakthrough: officially, it aligned with the political mission of preparing for the Hong Kong handover; at the same time, it also triggered imaginations of an alternative and exotic ideological system. The magazine frequently featured articles about renowned entrepreneurs, gambling, prostitution, the magnificent skyscrapers and the high-tech public transport system. The introduction of Hong Kong–style modernity was regarded as a constructive force in the development of a modern China. Contradictory and ideologically loaded wordings such as “modernization”, “corruption”, “prosperity”, “sin”, “capitalism”, “first in the world”, “colonization”, and “free competition” appeared frequently in the magazine. These frequently used terms were indicative of the effect of inflated ideological imagination and apprehension. We can discern a strong ideological projection from a private letter sent from a communist party member to the editor-in-chief of Xianggang Feng Qing in 1988. The letter read: “… Hong Kong represents free competition, equal opportunity, rule of law, freedom of speech, religious freedom, the power of knowledge, the survival of the fittest … We should propagate these positive aspects of Hong Kong, and criticize the evils of mainland society, such as the suppression of alternative opinions, powerful superstition, the neglect of knowledge, feudalism …”. Hong Kong, as represented in the magazine, was a symbol of an advanced and modern society. The magazine’s coverage of Hong Kong showbiz news became quite extensive. Longitudinal content analysis indicates that in the 1990s entertainment news gradually came to dominate the content, while coverage of social, economic and political topics gave way. In the late 1990s, as ideological control became less restrictive, everyday exchanges between Hong Kong and mainland Chinese became more frequent, and information from Hong Kong became much more accessible, the imaginative aspects of Hong Kong culture in the mainland media became less dramatic. The pages of Xianggang Feng Qing filled up with stories of Hong Kong’s glamorous showbiz industry, serving as a continuation of a colorful but fading Hong Kong imagination. In my interviews with mainland media personalities, informants recalled the 1990s as a period in which Hong Kong was a main source of inspiration. Mr. Zhang Xiaoping, one of my informants, is the co-founder of the Guangzhou 4As and the China 4As.4 He told us that creative teams from Hong Kong's advertising industry are significant role models for his own company, Black Horse Advertising. Ms. Adian Choi, who served as

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one of the editors of Xianggang Feng Qing, told us that in the 1990s, when she worked for a magazine called Modern, she was greatly influenced by her boss, Mr. Shao Zhong, who enjoyed a close relationship with Hong Kong media personalities. Choi remembers how Shao would return to Guangzhou from his frequent Hong Kong visits and talk about how various legendary media players were running the industry. He frequently sought the advice of these business contacts, such as publisher Yongder Sie and media personality and tycoon Albert Cheng, on setting up and revamping magazines in China. Eventually, in 1998, Shao would acquire the Hong Kong media group Paramount Publishing. These stories about the marketdriven media and modern management style of Hong Kong inspired Adian Choi to work towards establishing her own media company, which she finally did in the early 2000s. The modern imagination of Hong Kong at the time is neatly summed up by Mr. Yuan Hua Can, editor-in-chief of Xianggang Feng Qing; when asked about his image of Hong Kong, he replied that he had been deeply impressed by the Victoria Harbour skyline, the city’s skyscrapers and the efficient MTR system. At that time, Hong Kong was a city with “modern glamour”. Visual images of a modern Hong Kong, such as the skyscrapers of Victoria Harbour, flooded the Chinese media before and after the change of sovereignty in 1997. These are just small pieces of a big general picture. In the 1990s, media representations of Hong Kong in China projected the cultural imagination of a modern city living in a conspicuous way, while media workers in China generally saw their Hong Kong counterparts as inspiring role models. These observations are compatible with other reports. In a study on Guangzhou citizens’ reception of Hong Kong media images in the late 1990s, Fung and Ma (2002) found out that in various ways different social groups incorporated the modern lifestyles as seen in the Hong Kong media. In another study, I (Ma, 2005) analyzed the images of two late 1990s television dramas targeted at mainland audiences but produced by a mainland and a Hong Kong production team respectively. The series produced by mainland authors dramatizes a more inflated modern fantasy, expressing a stronger eagerness to learn the modern way of life and projecting a much stronger anxiety and deep-seated contradiction in the apprehension of modernity. In contrast, the Hong Kong–authored television series, with its more privileged discursive position, is much more flexibly post-modern in its treatment of the modern fantasy. The drama has taken up the role of a veteran who teaches the mainland audience how capitalists and modern professionals ought to behave.

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2000s: Hong Kong as Content Provider and Visual Co-Producer In the 2000s, Hong Kong’s role as information provider and icon of modern imagination has been largely reduced. This phenomenon is vividly illustrated by the drastic changes experienced by our target magazine, Xianggang Feng Qing. After 1997, as information about Hong Kong became far more accessible, the readership of the magazine dropped sharply. In 2001, Xianggang Feng Qing experienced a large-scale refashioning in terms of its outlook and editorial direction. It was repositioned as a trendy magazine to compete with international counterparts like Elle and Cosmopolitan. Its Hong Kong content was reduced, while transnational and middle-class leisure and lifestyle coverage became prominent features. A new English title, Seen, was adopted; the longstanding strategy of showcasing Hong Kong celebrities on the cover was replaced by one featuring regional and international models and pop stars. The most revealing change involves the look of the Chinese title, Xianggang Feng Qing; the size of the two words Xianggang, or Hong Kong, was drastically reduced, essentially promoting the two remaining words Feng Qing to the status of the new Chinese name of the magazine. Editor-in-chief Yuan said that Hong Kong was no longer a “mysterious” place that intrigued mainland readers; the two words Xianggang were still an inseparable part of the brand name, but if the magazine continued to be, in Yuan’s words, “locked up tight” with Hong Kong, it would inevitably perish. “In order to be competitive, ‘Hong Kong’ had to be abandoned.” Comparing the 1985 debut of Xianggang Feng Qing with an issue of Seen from 2003 further illustrates the case. The former carries coverage of social, leisure, political and economical topics, exclusively about Hong Kong. The contents of the 2003 issue focus solely on leisure; there is only one story about Hong Kong. However, the magazine’s layouts and pictorial design still show a strong resemblance to many Hong Kong lifestyle magazines. In fact, Seen’s freelance writers and designers are often recruited from — or have connections to — Hong Kong. Through site visits, interviews, visual analyses and case studies, we intended to map out a significant change in the role of Hong Kong in the cultural formation of a vibrant visual culture in South China. In recent years, there has been an astonishing growth in advertising and design, as well as in the number of consumer magazines. Hong Kong has ceased to be a distanced imagination and inspiration of modernity. The signifier of “Hong Kong” as a symbol, an icon and a “brand name” can no longer trigger the flights of fancy that it did in the 1990s. Hong Kong visual producers are no longer seen as a distanced model, but more as a possible co-producer and

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partner of the rising visual culture in China. It is against this background that the following cases are examined to shed light on the complicated interplay between visual producers in Hong Kong and South China.

Case Study #2: Belle Belle, a beauty magazine that made its debut in 2004, is targeted at female middle-class readers in Chinese cities. Based in Guangzhou, Belle is staffed with approximately 50 people and commissions Hong Kong freelancers for fashion styling and reporting. Although Belle does not contain visible references to Hong Kong as a modern marker, it draws mainland readers with a subtle form of Hong Kong visual style. Comparing Belle’s covers, which are produced in either Hong Kong or Guangzhou, we can differentiate the input of Hong Kong visual producers. Adian Choi, the publisher, once admitted that it is very easy to tell which covers are produced in Hong Kong and which in Guangzhou. The editors at Belle prefer the distinctiveness of a Hong Kong–produced cover, although Choi’s stated intention is not to adhere to a “Hong Kong style” as such. She simply wants the covers to look “beautiful”. Out of the first seven issues for Belle, Mr. Andre Woo, a Hong Kong freelance fashion stylist, contributed four covers. All four were shot in the Hong Kong studio, with a local make-up artist, hair stylist and photographers. Woo said the advantages of producing covers in Hong Kong are that he can procure the most fashionable wardrobe for the model and assemble a high-quality production team. He said that he could not produce good cover shots if he worked in the mainland because mainland professionals do not offer the expert support he wants, and he would not have access to the latest fashions for styling. Hong Kong has better resources in this respect. During the interview, Woo compared two Guangzhouproduced covers of Belle with those which are produced by Hong Kong designers. The former, as Woo rated, are too generic, taking a very “safe”, conventional approach in terms of make-up, hairstyle and photography. In comparison, Hong Kong–produced covers are more conceptual.

Case Study #3: Modern Classic Ms. Heidi Siu is an experienced Hong Kong media executive with more than ten years of experience. Her story of producing covers for mainland magazines is relevant here. Ms. Siu started up the lifestyle magazine Modern Classic for a Beijing investor and served as the deputy editor-in-chief in

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2003. In terms of magazine styling, Siu believes Hong Kong is still comparatively better in producing cutting-edge images. She cited a new Guangzhou magazine, Class, as an example. Its editor-in-chief, Mr. Zheng, was a Guangzhou native who used to work under Siu at Modern Classic. Heidi Siu compares two covers produced by Zheng in different contexts and team dynamics: the debut issue of Modern Classic, produced in Hong Kong, and the cover photo for the debut issue of Class, produced one year later in the mainland. The former was coordinated by both Siu and Zheng; it featured Hong Kong supermodel Rosemary, with fashion styling and design by Hong Kong fashion designer William Tang and photography by a Guangzhou professional. On the other hand, a mainland team of fashion designer, models and photographer under Zheng’s supervision produced the cover for Class. Designers criticized the Class cover as unprofessional because the photographer framed the shot with too wide an angle; cover photos seldom show the model in full. For the fashion design and styling, both covers worked with a mixture of Western and Chinese styles, but the cover of Class looks more like a traditional Chinese costume; the model’s posing is also overdone. In the case studies of Belle, Class, and Modern Classic, Hong Kong visual producers, up to the time of writing, seem to have the edge on international outlook, good modeling and a conceptual understanding of modern trends. In other words, visuality is not simply a matter of the image itself, which can be copied and pasted in a transborder context, but also depends heavily on the visual skill of a sensitive “eye”, which, in turn, involves a whole network of supporting systems such as fashion, design, education and international exposure. These elements can be conceptualized as what I call an “image apparatus”; I will come back to this notion in the conclusion.

Case Study #4: Modern Media Group The next case involves a company called Modern Media Group. We include this case in our analysis because of its close involvement with Hong Kong lifestyle magazines. The case illustrates the dynamic of deep collaboration between Hong Kong and China media practitioners, which was not possible in the 1980s and early 1990s. Modern Media, one of the most established and profitable media groups in China, was founded in Guangzhou but made its name in Shanghai. Modern Media has offices in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen and Hong Kong. It is among the first mainland media companies to have acquired media assets in Hong Kong. The group acquired a Hong Kong company, Paramount Publishing, and a Hong Kong publication called City

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Magazine in 1998 and 2002 respectively. Its founder, Shao Zhong, is a businessman who used to be an economic researcher for the Chinese government. The acquisition made him one of the first famous media tycoons in the mainland. As a media conglomerate, Modern Media gathered an experienced team of media executives from the mainland and Hong Kong to develop its publications in both places. These publications are T.O.M., Modern Weekly, and City Magazine. The first two magazines are published in China, while the latter remains a localized Hong Kong magazine.5 Launched in 2002, T.O.M. is a monthly lifestyle and trends magazine oriented to a high-income demographic of male consumers in the mainland. Hong Kong chiefs run the editorial and graphic production. T.O.M. is modelled after its sister publication, City Magazine, which is the most established lifestyle magazine in Hong Kong. The third publication of the group is Modern Weekly, which was originally launched in 1980. Shao Zhong purchased and relaunched it in 1998; at that time, it was the first of its kind in the mainland to feature full-colour glossy printing. Modern Weekly is a variety magazine with international and local news, lifestyle information and entertainment features. When it was relaunched, its editorial office was located in Hong Kong and staffed by Hong Kong media workers; later, it was moved back to Guangzhou. Hong Kong media veterans have been invited to train staff and head some of the departments. In Modern Media, Hong Kong cultural workers and media executives play two major roles: “cultural instructor” and “content provider”. In the first case, Hong Kong experts are employed in top positions as editors or art directors, and are asked to “educate” mainland colleagues on how to produce stylized and modern publications via formal in-house seminars and workshops. Hong Kong editors even buy selected foreign magazines for their mainland colleagues. This staff arrangement facilitates close-range interaction and direct communication between mainland and Hong Kong staff. When Shao Zhong acquired the shares of the two Hong Kong media groups, he also acquired their human resources. Media veterans who originally worked for Paramount Publishing and City Magazine now serve on the staff of both Hong Kong and mainland publications. It is not uncommon to see similar layouts in City Magazine, T.O.M. and Modern Weekly. They are aligning themselves not only in visual style but also in shared content. In the role of “content provider”, Hong Kong editorial staffers have to produce visuals and texts that directly address mainland readers, a task that requires high sensitivity to local cultural frameworks, needs and languages. Hong Kong workers are asked to produce a style devoid of any traits of China and Hong Kong; a general “Westernized style”, represented

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in the decontextualized treatment of visuals and texts, is what the investor thinks appropriate. The Hong Kong editor for the mainland magazine T.O.M. said that he has not turned the magazine into a “Hong Kong–style magazine” despite the fact that its team consists of mostly Hongkongers; he has even received complaints for putting too many “Hong Kong elements” into the magazine. The visual markers that make T.O.M. stand out from other magazines in the mainland are thus its international outlook (foreign models in fashion spreads, Western celebrities in sports and showbiz, and the latest high-end products from international brands). It is a decontextualized treatment of global and urban consumerism. With a team of Hong Kong producers, T.O.M.’s cosmopolitan advantage has not been in producing Hong Kong–style content, but instead in producing a transnational fantasy of modern living. T.O.M. and Modern Weekly did not go for full decontextualization right from the start; it was a gradual shift. From the first 36 issues of T.O.M., I selected six covers (every fifth issue) for analysis. In these six selected samples of T.O.M.’s covers, one can see the tendency towards decontextualization beginning with the debut issue’s cover; it is an enlarged interview photo of Jackie Chan, a globalized movie star, against the blurred background of a remote shooting location. As the cover story indicates, the T.O.M. reporter actually visited Chan in Ireland. The appeal of this issue is how the cover was made “firsthand” in a “live” environment in the presence of T.O.M., the star and the world. In the second example, Takeshi Kaneshiro, a celebrity identified with diverse Asian origins (he has Japanese-Taiwanese parentage and rose to fame in Hong Kong) appears in a cover with a blurred background of Hong Kong in which the Bank of China subtly lurks behind him. In the third sample, a successful Hong Kong businessman-politician, James Tien, is featured in a studio shot. Despite the plain studio background, which is artistically less complicated than the usual covers, it carries a stronger tone and presence of Hong Kong than the others, for visually it puts the sole focus on Tien, a Hong Kong figure. Nevertheless, the remaining three samples, which are more recent, demonstrate an obvious shift. All three covers are shot in studios which are transformed into a cyber, natural or futuristic nowhere; the background is anonymous and imaginary, the featured stars assume postures in response to the conceptual set-up of sand, light and time. The cover is evolving from contextual to conceptual. In a similar manner, Modern Weekly has its own de-contextualized strategy, as demonstrated by its evolving treatment in reporting about life in Guangzhou. Each issue of Modern Weekly is divided into four departments: News, Business, Lifestyle and Metro. In November 2000, a series entitled “The 100 Reasons to Live in Guangzhou” was introduced in the newly

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inaugurated “Metro” section. The feature ran for several issues and included beautifully shot photographs of local nightlife, heritage architecture, busy roads and consumers. In April 2001, a “Metro” cover story featured “Lingnan Architecture”; a month later, a story went with headlines of “Guangzhou, A Mystic City”. In effect, the presence of Guangzhou, narrated as a modern and energetic city, was prominent in the “Metro” section. However, content treatments have changed in recent years. When Hong Kong journalist Bono Lee took charge of the “Metro” section in 2004, he described his job as “creating synthetic items” for readers; the content became much more like the imaginary lives of the middle class — a projection of their dreams — and the section is now “highly de-localized”. Lee recalled an August 2004 feature story on the new Guangzhou airport in which he was asked to “avoid the presence of the Guangzhou masses” in the photographs, and to refrain from making any overt Guangzhou identification. In the final layout, the five-page story features a young male model wearing a suit, holding a suitcase and a personal digital assistant (PDA), and posing in the sleek, modern airport. Two smaller photos at the lower corner of the page show a puppy and a wide shot of teenagers taking pictures at the airport. Co-authored by Lee and another Hong Kong writer, the article bears the headline of “Airport: The Postmodern Sensation”. It is about the design — and the experience — of “a super airport” in the post-modern world; although the new Guangzhou airport is still mentioned in the article, the focus is more on a transnational and mobile lifestyle. The Guangzhou airport is placed within a group of global references, such as the Hong Kong International Airport and the Denver Airport. According to the editors’ logic, the Guangzhou citizens who actually use the facility are not sophisticated enough to inhabit the dream of this postmodern representation of the new Guangzhou airport. All traces of local visitors are erased from the story. The case of Modern Media is consistent with our analysis of Belle and Seen. All these publications have adopted a new visual treatment that is detached from localized references. Hong Kong style is to be avoided, but this treatment of decontextualized global and urban consumerism is what Hong Kong media workers can claim as their expertise. The Hong Kong– South China interplay is not simply a mere copying or mixing of images, but a transfer of visual production tactics which is consumer-driven and sensitive to the urban lifestyles of global capitalism.

Case Study #5: The Publicity Campaign of City Pictorial The cases discussed above are bound up with Hong Kong in terms of their content and production. In this section, a publicity campaign for the lifestyle

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magazine City Pictorial is selected for analysis because it was widely critically acclaimed by peers in the advertising and publishing fields. City Pictorial, a rival to Modern Weekly, is a Guangzhou-based weekly produced without the direct involvement of Hong Kong media workers. An analysis of the visual repositioning of this magazine can either strengthen or counterbalance our argument that Hong Kong is a mediator of global and urban visual culture. City Pictorial targets the same readers as Modern Weekly, namely young urbanites in large Chinese cities. A production and editorial team of around 20 people works on the magazine. The focus of our analysis is on the magazine’s 2002 facelift and publicity campaign. The campaign was executed by Black Horse Advertising in partnership with an independent studio led by TV commercial director Xie Xiaomeng. The most eye-catching part of the campaign was a 30-minute-long advertisement-film, a first in China and tailor-made for City Pictorial by Xie Xiaomeng. The film was first screened at a reception party for the media and commercial patrons, and then distributed to readers in VCD format with the purchase of the magazine. This innovative tactic was widely reported and the film was said to perfectly embody the mindset of young urban Chinese professionals.6 A brief textual analysis of the film suggests a vision of an urban utopia of individualism and consumerism. The story is about the relationship of a middle-class couple born in the 1970s. They are described as having successful careers, earning good money and enjoying a great sex life. The most blissful moments are the ones in which they are showered with designer products and mini electronic accessories. The cliché of “I consume therefore I am” is the motto of the characters. The visual style is trendy and playful, with hip cinematography, exciting colors and an MTV-like visual rhythm. In a brief reception exercise, I screened the film for 50 Hong Kong undergraduate students and asked them to write down their immediate reactions, paying special attention to the contrast between the consumer culture they experience in Hong Kong’s and China’s urban consumer culture as represented in the film. Most of them didn’t mention any differences, and told us that the film could apply to nearly any modern city. The words and phrases they wrote down included: “materialism”, “consumerism”, “no traces of Chinese tradition”, “loneliness”, “the collapse of traditional values”, “freedom” etc. An easily recognizable representation of decontextualized and delocalized consumerism is quite evident in the film. The director is aware of this trend of “decontextualization” and “delocalization” in his own works. Xie admitted that the film carries only “partial truth” in relation to ordinary Guangzhou lives, and that “it does not look like a film made in China”. He said, “What is the truth? The public

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needs dreams. We Chinese are reluctant to look at our own lives. Tomorrow people will get rid of today. In the rapid development of this country, people always thirst for better lives”. This case seems to suggest that Guangzhou-based visual producers can produce a de-localized and modern visual product without direct Hong Kong influence. The argument I put forward in the previous cases is that Hong Kong can serve as a mediator of a global and modern visual culture. However, this should not be put to the extreme of a Hong Kong–centric view of visual superiority. In the 2000s, Hong Kong and mainland visual producers are appropriating a shared pool of global visual resources. By probing into the track records of both Black Horse Advertising and Xie Xiaomeng, we can acquire a more dynamic picture. Previous works produced by Black Horse Advertising suggest that the cultural imagination created by the Hong Kong media is either on the wane or being drastically localized. I interviewed six advertising directors and designers working for Black Horse; half of them suggested that the cultural influence of Hong Kong advertising on Guangzhou, so significant during the 1990s, is now fading out; Hong Kong styles are seen as outdated, and designers are very reluctant, even resistant, to following any styles that originate from Hong Kong. However, Black Horse creative director Zhang Xiaoping is familiar with the key players in the Hong Kong advertising field. They have frequent exchanges and Zhang is appreciative of the tactics and logic of visual production deployed by his Hong Kong counterparts. Similarly, Xie Xiaomeng has a profound knowledge of Hong Kong commercial media. His previous works include a piece that playfully adapts the style of the Hong Kong movie In the Mood of Love, produced by Wong Kar-wai, an internationally renowned director based in Hong Kong. Xie has also published an underground trade journal on advertising, in which he pays tribute to Hong Kong advertising directors. The articles in this journal indicate that Xie is critically appropriating the logic of visual production in Hong Kong and the world. The present case is compatible with our previous cases in the conclusion that Hong Kong no longer serves as an iconic marker of rich cultural imagination as it once did. However, this case is different because the trend-conscious, modern and decontextualized visual treatment of the publicity campaign was not co-produced by Hong Kong partners. Yet the inner logic of Hong Kong visuality was still a significant reference frame, among many other international references, for the creative teams of the publicity campaign.

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Case Study #6: Cheung Kong School of Art and Design at Shantou University The previous cases in this study have direct or indirect Hong Kong connections. In this last case, Hong Kong and mainland collaboration is permeating to the roots of visual production. It is a dynamic synergy of Hong Kong designers and mainland art school educators — a partnership to create a unique university programme aimed at training a new generation of visual producers in the mainland and Hong Kong. This type of deep collaboration in the field of commercial design would have been unimaginable in the 1980s. Well-known Hong Kong designer Kan Tai-keung has steered this new degree programme since early 2003. Kan Tai-keung was born in China in 1942 and moved to Hong Kong in 1957. He studied in the Applied Design programme at The Chinese University of Hong Kong’s School of Continuing Studies. In 1976 he founded his own design company; the name of the company was changed to Kan & Lau Design Consultants with the addition of Freeman Lau as a partner in 1996. Kan Tai-keung has won numerous international awards and prizes, and his achievements have been featured in prominent international trade publications. He is now the Dean and Professor of the Cheung Kong School of Art & Design, Shantou University. Funded by the Li Ka Shing Foundation, the Cheung Kong School of Art was an affiliate of Shantou University in Guangdong Province. Together with the School of Journalism and Communication and the Law School, they are the three major developing projects of Shantou University supported by the Foundation. Traditionally, the School of Art and Design emphasized fine arts education. When it was reformed in 2003 under the supervision of Kan Tai-keung, more resources were allocated to develop design education. Renowned Hong Kong designers and educators are invited to be guest lecturers and academic advisors; they have also rewritten curricula for the school, and organized training programmes to equip mainland teachers with new teaching methods. An administrator from Hong Kong was hired to manage the school. After interviewing Kan, I made a four-day visit to Shantou University. The week was eventful, featuring a student exhibition, keynote seminars, a cocktail party and a ceremony of the new exchange programme between Shantou University and a design school in Germany. I sat in on classes, participated in discussions, and talked with teachers and students. A few observations can be made. First, the new teaching method adopted by the teachers was met with approval among students. Students told us that they can treat their teachers as friends, and that they are encouraged to ask questions and express themselves in class. They said this open teaching style is uncommon in mainland schools and felt it was good for design

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education. Classroom observation indicates that there is a heavy use of problem-based learning such as projects, presentations, discussions and questioning. Second, Hong Kong students who enrolled in the programme told us that it combines basic skills-training with creative tactics. In Hong Kong, design schools stress creativity and downplay basic skills such as drawing and art production. Shantou’s program has the strength of featuring a balanced training programme that Hong Kong design schools cannot offer. Third, the programme features a wide variety of international events, in which Hong Kong teachers and coordinators serve as key mediators. The China-Germany exchange programme had been put together by Hong Kong video artist Chan Pik-yu. It is but one of the many events organized by the school to promote international dialogue. Fourth, senior mainland teachers do complain about the arrogant and high-handed manner of their Hong Kong advisors. However, they also acknowledge the dynamism of the reformed program and the enthusiasm of the students for the curriculum reform. Fifth, the injection of a Hong Kong component to the mainland design curriculum has not led to an abrupt Westernization and modernization. Surprisingly, the reformed curriculum reflects Kan’s philosophy of out-competing Western design by returning to Chinese roots. His vision is to educate designers to cultivate unique visual styles of their own, combining Chinese and modern cultures. The Shantou case enriches our understanding of the changing Hong Kong influence on the formation of China’s visual culture. Hong Kong and mainland visual experts are partnering to work not only on the surface of visual exchanges, but also on the refinement of the image-producing apparatus which will become the core engine of the rising visual culture in urban China.

Summary of Findings The media cluster and interlocking social networks in the above cases can be summarized in the following figure. It represents a small but significant cross-section which can tell the story of mainland–Hong Kong connections in the development of visual culture in South China. The following annotations correspond to the numeric references in the figure. [1] Xianggang Feng Qing, the first mainland magazine to cover Hong Kong culture and society, made its debut in the mid-1980s and remained the vital bridge for mainland readers to comprehend and imagine Hong Kong until the 1990s, when the magazine publishing market boomed. Meanwhile, the historical visit of Hong Kong graphic designers to the Guangzhou Academy of Art and Design opened up the new concept of modern design to mainland educators of technical arts. Later, the school

Figure 1 Mainland–Hong Kong connections in development of visual culture in South China

Index:

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developed their own strategy of “commercializing” design education, set up its own design companies and has remained active in the mainland design industry. [2], [4] In the early 1990s, the development of the market economy allowed for the establishment of numerous private profit-making magazines. Mainland businessman Shao Zhong, who ran Modern magazine, developed close ties to his Hong Kong business and media acquaintances. He brought a Hong Kong style of management and magazine styles to his enterprise. Adian Choi, then his subordinate, was greatly influenced by his Hong Kong–style entrepreneurship. Shao acquired further Hong Kong media assets and developed his publications with both Hong Kong and mainland editorial and design expertise. In the late 1990s, facing the keen competition in the market, several popular magazines revamped themselves to take on a more modern, cutting-edge aesthetic. More lifestyle and trends magazines entered the fray as the market continued to flourish in the 2000s. [3] Choi later established her own Hong Kong connections and reconceptualized Xianggang Feng Qing to present an international outlook. By that time the magazine, renamed Seen, was one of many consumerist magazines in the marketplace. Choi then started her own magazine, Belle, in 2003 and continued her collaboration with Hong Kong visual producers as a means of enhancing the magazine’s competitive edge. [5] Hong Kong designer Kan Tai-keung has been influential in the international and Chinese design industry for the past two decades. He was asked to reform an art and design school in Shantou University using the Hong Kong style of management and pedagogy. It quickly began to compete with the Guangzhou Academy of Art and Design in terms of student recruitment and professional training. Both schools have been supplying the mainland media industry with graduates in visual production.

Concluding Remarks In the 1980s and the 1990s, Hong Kong served as an information provider and a symbol of modern imagination. The importance of these roles has been diminishing since the early 2000s. However, Hong Kong and mainland media workers have been collaborating on various aspects of visual production. Hong Kong producers still have a competitive edge in terms of having a “good eye”. It has the advantage in terms of market sensibilities, international vision, systemic production support and an open social environment that can foster critical reasoning. In general, Hong Kong visual producers interviewed in this study have a more sophisticated visual competence as of the time of writing.

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Visual competence refers to the desire for and the ability to flexibly use visual means to make identity and lifestyle differentiations in the modern, consumerist and anonymous society. In this chapter, visuality is conceptualized not merely as an assembly of images; it also includes the production and consumption of visual products, the cultural and media contexts, the visual competence of producers and consumers, and the social practices of “seeing”, judging and producing visual differentiations. Along this line of argument, visual culture is produced and supported by what I have called an “image apparatus”, which includes the social sectors of advertising, information processing, graphic design, photography, magazines, fashion industry, etc. It also includes structural sectors such as arts education, conferences, exhibitions and other technical supports. Theoretically speaking, visual culture is constitutive of cultural networks, which produce social relations and practices. In visual culture, “how to see” and “what to see” are the strategies to know, to desire and to exercise power. In short, visuality does not consist of mere images; it is an apparatus with complicated nerves, nodes and social networks that facilitate the production of modern, stylistic, flexible and sophisticated visual images. Thus transborder visuality in this study is not only the mutual copying, borrowing and appropriating of images across the Hong Kong–mainland border, but also the synergy of the various components of an image apparatus in which Hong Kong and its mainland counterparts have their complementary competitive edges. Considering mainland–Hong Kong connections through the concept of the image apparatus, what we are witnessing is the development of a multiple-level division of labour, and collaborations to compete in the global visual economy. This study on transborder visuality can thus be seen as a small but significant link in the larger map of cultural globalization. Instead of theorizing globalization in general terms of hybridization and cultural transfer, the notion of transborder visuality provides the analytic differentiation which pays attention to the different degree of multi-level collaborations on the various aspects of the “image apparatus” in globally connected societies.

Part II

Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

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Part II — Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

As described by the first few chapters, Hong Kong has been a city of immigrants and emigrants. With institutional and cultural improvisations facilitated by systems of law regarding custom and rights, the city has, over the century, absorbed different kinds of migrants and sojourners. The mobile populations have been driven by diverse individual and family strategies. The postwar years saw continuing ebbs and flows of people across Hong Kong’s borders. Economists Richard Y. C. Wong and Ka-fu Wong use census and other quantitative data to highlight the dramatic changes in the demographic landscape due to the massive population flows from China and discuss the implications for the territory’s labor market and subsequent economic development. The influx of population between 1945 and 1950 produced a large labor force and diverse talent pool. Hong Kong’s population increased from 600,000 to 2.1 million. This increase resulted in the rapid growth of a youthful work force in the 1960s. Hong Kong has improved its working population mainly by investment in a variety of educational and vocational training. Management expertise was supported through professional accreditation in key areas such as accounting and law. However, the low fertility by this young work force and restricted immigration has led to an acute labor shortage by the 1980s. This provided additional impetus for Hong Kong industries to relocate across the border when the mainland opened up. The fact is, Hong Kong’s population is ageing. Wong and Wong’s study shows that by 2011 the largest population age group will be those who have turned fifty. Ageing populations are a worldwide phenomenon caused by declining mortality and fertility rates. Almost all economically developed nations with stable populations are growing older today. Less developed and young nations will experience population ageing in the future. Cities can avoid an ageing population by attracting younger migrants eager to try their luck; whereas the older population migrates out for less demanding careers and lifestyles. A continuous circulation and flow of population keep cities economically vibrant. Evidence from the years between 1990 and 2000 shows that the age distribution of the populations in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen, New York, and London is quite stable and shows no sign of ageing. A city like New York, for example, has successfully replenished its educated work force by continuous circulation of populations from the rest of the nation and abroad. By contrast, the median age of the Hong Kong population has increased by approximately five years from 1990 to 2000. Moreover, with a semi-closed border with the mainland, Hong Kong has relied on investment in education to produce its skilled manpower. Over time, increasingly higher proportions of degree-holders are those born in

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Hong Kong. Unable to draw diverse talent from the rest of the nation and the world, Hong Kong’s human capital stock is lagging far behind New York’s and London’s. Fast-growing mainland cities (Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen) are also catching up rapidly. Wong and Wong argue that in the absence of major policy changes, the best educated segment of Hong Kong by the year 2031 will be in one of the oldest age categories (55–59). What has been the impact of recent waves of Chinese immigrants on Hong Kong’s future work force and competitiveness? The chapter by Helen F. Siu shows that the border hardened and softened with major political events in China. Between 1978 and 1981, one half million immigrants, mostly illegal, made their way into the territory. Rural, single, male, and poor, they returned to their native places for marriage. Although labeled as “new immigrants,” a term loaded with derogatory connotations, many found productive work and were absorbed into mainstream society. Their families, however, have continued to face a rather unaccepting host community. The bulk of new arrivals came to Hong Kong in the 1990s as spouses and children of these men. Their social profiles look unpromising in the global age. Confronted by the discriminating gaze of an already anxious public, used often as scapegoats, they cluster at the low end of income and jobs. Policies towards them have been contentious. Some argue that they are hardening into an underclass of structurally unemployable men, dependent women, and young children in dysfunctional families that drain government resources and exhaust societal goodwill. Others, as presented in the chapter by Johannes M. M. Chan, alert us to the complexity of the immigrant process and the contradictory policies on both sides of the border that exacerbate already difficult family situations. Chan also points to the discretionary power given to immigrant officials, whose approach to the cross-border flow of population is more one of security and less of family reunions. As a legal scholar, he is concerned with the highly politicized environment surrounding the right-of-abode controversy and the inability for legal procedures to intervene on humanitarian terms. If these new arrivals have the right to be Hong Kong’s present and future citizens, he argues, government should consider proactive ways to nurture them. Moreover, in view of the general decline in fertility rates among Hong Kong’s locally born, these newcomers from mainland China can be a significant source for replenishing Hong Kong’s labor force. Immigration policies involve social and human investment. The new migrants, as others have done in the past, play an important role in building up Hong Kong. In fact, the community in the last few years has generally been more receptive to mainland visitors. The government, Chan notes, should make use of this opportunity to eradicate prejudice and develop comprehensive and proactive immigration policy.1

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Siu’s study acknowledges that many new arrivals cluster at the low end of the socioeconomic hierarchy, and local society has often singled out their rural cultural markers for discrimination. Administrative difficulties caused partly by inadequate understanding of the issues as well as of the empirical complexities on the ground may blind us to the contributions these immigrants can make and the many strategic ways to engage them. The study shows that the intensity of cross-border unions has not diminished. A positive point is that the social profiles of the families involved have changed significantly. The earlier wave of “new immigrants” was from the most rural margins of Guangdong and Fujian and might have been more needy in terms of adjusting to urban Hong Kong. Since the late 1990s, however, immigrants have come from the urban, industrial centers in the heart of the Pearl River delta. Many originated from other provinces in China, have visited Hong Kong numerous times, acquired city Cantonese, are resourceful in diverse ways, and maintain jobs and homes in China that they are not entirely willing to give up. If we apply the circulation concept to the changing situation of the newcomers, Siu argues, it may bring pleasant surprises. Unlike the Hong Kong born who grew up detached from any mainland experiences, the newcomers, with their intimate social networks and experiences in China, can be effective brokers at certain socioeconomic levels between Hong Kong and China. On the one hand, the government should actively retune the structure of entitlements and social benefits to prevent abuse. At the same time, it can devise policies that allow maximum opportunities for the more competitive migrants to straddle the border for education, job training, sustained cultural exposure, and other forms of networking. Whether they decide to settle in Hong Kong or to circulate back to the mainland for career development, they would help enlarge Hong Kong’s footprint. If Hong Kongers are to activate flexible positioning, cross-border experiences of people like these will become important social capital. Moreover, if their rights of citizenship are recognized and nurtured before they settle in Hong Kong, most would come to the territory with gratitude and commitment rather than hardened frustrations. A discerning regional and cultural mapping may enable us to engage with Hong Kong’s future citizens in more strategic and productive ways and turn a possible burden into an asset. To further define and locate “the Hong Kongers,” the chapter by Angela Shik, Janet Salaff, and Arent Greve shows another dimension of population circulation and family dynamics that affect the human resource of Hong Kong society. Hundreds of thousands of middle-class Hong Kong families emigrated overseas in the 1980s and 1990s in anticipation of the territory’s change of sovereignty in 1997. Some returned but their children continued

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their education in the West. The chapter focuses on the decisions of this educated young generation. In this global age, transnational talents are competitive. The term “transnational” refers to people’s connections between different global locations, as manifested in their personal movements and the flows of information in which they are involved. The study is based on in-depth interviews of young adults who migrated with their families to Toronto before the Handover and who are now facing the choice of where to work and live. The factors that contribute to the residency decisions involve multiple processes. At the macro-level, the citizenship rights of this younger generation in two countries and how labor markets recognize their training, credentials, and experience must be worked out. At a mesolevel, one needs to ask whether family ties and social networks can sustain transnational support, and at a micro-level, how personal notions of home and identity are accommodated. The study finds that many of these young adults have no intention to stay permanently in either Hong Kong or Canada. Their work skills, social networks, and personal commitments, largely cosmopolitan, greatly influence their settlement decisions. A proactive population agenda should try to capture the potential of this generation to circulate between their two home countries at different points in their lives and work.

4

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future Richard Y. C. Wong and Ka-fu Wong*

Introduction Recent studies have demonstrated how changes in the demographic structure have a profound impact on the economy. Bloom et al. (2002) argues that the East Asian “economic miracle” was largely related to the rapid demographic transition that occurred in the region between 1965 and 1990. The term “demographic transition” refers to a demographic regime in which both fertility and mortality rates drop to a low level. At such a time, the demand for human capital investment rises rapidly and economic growth ensues. Policies that improve health, education and job opportunities, in turn, further reduce fertility and mortality rates and create a virtuous circle of economic growth and human capital investment. Economic growth resulting from the demographic transition is termed the demographic dividend. Three distinct immigration waves from Mainland China into Hong Kong in recent years have shaped Hong Kong’s population structure, and its demographic transition: 1945–1950, 1966–1968 and 1980–1982. In addition to the immigration waves, the border during the early years was unrestricted and there were net movements of population in both directions.1 Figure 1 plots the population by age groups. Table 1 reports Hong Kong’s total population and net in and out movement from 1961 to 2003.

*

This research was fully supported by a grant from the University Grants Committee of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, China (Project No. AoE/H–05/99).

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Figure 1 Hong Kong’s Population by Age Groups, 1921–2031 1,000.000 900,000

2031

800,000 2001

700,000

2011 2021

1981 600,000 1971 500,000

2021

1961

2011

400,000

1971 2001

300,000

1961

1961

200,000 100,000

1991

1971 1931

1931

1971

1981 1971

1921 0 Age= 0–4 5–9

10–14 15–19 20–24

25–29 30–34 35–39 40–44 45–49

50–54 55–59 60–64

65–69 70–74

75+

Note: Based on various issues of Hong Kong Population Projection Tables. Distribution smoothed out by a 3-degree polynomial.

The quantity and quality of immigrants who came to Hong Kong during these three episodes were different. Let us look at those immigrants that arrived during 1945–1950.2 It is often believed that an important reason for the post-war economic miracle in Hong Kong was the increase in the available stock of human capital of these newcomers. Most were young, with a high expected fertility and a mortality rate that rapidly declined. The demographic dividend accounted for a major part of Hong Kong’s rapid economic growth. Hong Kong’s demographic transition has been completed. Hong Kong’s total fertility rate (the number of births that an average woman would have in her lifetime) has declined from 3.41 in 1971 to 0.93 in 2001. The natural increase (due to births and deaths) as a percentage of total population has declined substantially, from 1.8% in 1962 to 0.2% in 2003. Table 2, which reports the percentage change in population by age group and gender at five-year intervals, highlights several abrupt changes in population: (1) the increase in population of age group 15–19 by 132% from 1961 to 1966, (2) the decline in population of age group 0–4 by 20% from 1966–1971, and (3) the decline in population of age group 0–4 by 27% from 1996–2001. These highlighted entries illustrate how the initial abrupt changes in population have carried into the later years. For instance, the increase in population of age 15–19 from 1961 to 1966 enlarged the labour supply pool not only in 1961–1966, but also in the following 30 to 40 years. This cohort has contributed to Hong Kong’s rapid economic growth in the

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Table 1 Hong Kong’s Total Population, 1961–2003

Net movement

Population growth Population due to growth Population natural due to net Total growth increase movement Population rate (%) (%) (%)

N.A. 92,500 94,200 91,700 87,000 78,200 68,000 65,600 64,200 60,000

N.A. 44,600 21,500 –8,000 6,300 –46,200 24,900 14,300 –3,000 35,100

3,168,100 3,305,200 3,420,900 3,504,600 3,597,900 3,629,900 3,722,800 3,802,700 3,863,900 3,959,000

N.A. 4.3 3.5 2.5 2.7 0.9 2.6 2.2 1.6 2.5

N.A. 2.8 2.8 2.6 2.4 2.2 1.8 1.7 1.7 1.5

N.A. 1.4 0.6 –0.2 0.2 –1.3 0.7 0.4 –0.1 0.9

1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980

60,200 58,600 61,000 59,900 62,200 55,100 57,100 56,000 58,200 57,400

26,100 19,700 57,000 76,300 21,600 1,300 8,600 27,800 204,000 76,000

4,045,300 4,123,600 4,241,600 4,377,800 4,461,600 4,518,000 4,583,700 4,667,500 4,929,700 5,063,100

2.2 1.9 2.9 3.2 1.9 1.3 1.5 1.8 5.6 2.7

1.5 1.4 1.4 1.4 1.4 1.2 1.3 1.2 1.2 1.1

0.7 0.5 1.3 1.7 0.5 0.0 0.2 0.6 4.1 1.5

1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990

61,400 61,800 58,000 54,700 52,000 48,900 45,000 42,200 47,200 39,300

58,900 19,300 22,600 –1,900 6,300 19,500 10,900 4,900 11,400 –21,000

5,183,400 5,264,500 5,345,100 5,397,900 5,456,200 5,524,600 5,580,500 5,627,600 5,686,200 5,704,500

2.4 1.6 1.5 1.0 1.1 1.3 1.0 0.8 1.0 0.3

1.2 1.2 1.1 1.0 1.0 0.9 0.8 0.8 0.8 0.7

1.1 0.4 0.4 0.0 0.1 0.4 0.2 0.1 0.2 –0.4

1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000

39,100 39,000 41,100 40,600 40,400 35,000 31,800 22,800 19,100 16,900

8,400 9,500 59,400 93,800 80,300 119,900 22,000 31,600 43,700 41,600

5,752,000 5,800,500 5,901,000 6,035,400 6,156,100 6,435,500 6,489,300 6,543,700 6,606,500 6,665,000

0.8 0.8 1.7 2.3 2.0 4.5 0.8 0.8 1.0 0.9

0.7 0.7 0.7 0.7 0.7 0.5 0.5 0.4 0.3 0.3

0.2 0.2 1.0 1.6 1.3 1.9 0.3 0.5 0.7 0.6

2001 2002 2003

21,000 13,400 13,500

38,900 48,700 2,600

6,724,900 6,787,000 6,803,100

0.9 0.9 0.2

0.3 0.2 0.2

0.6 0.7 0.0

Year

Natural increase of population

1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970

Note: Data from various issues of Hong Kong Population Projections published by the Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department.

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Table 2

Percentage Change in Population by Age Group and Gender, Hong Kong, 1961–2031

Age Sex 1961– 1966– 1966 1971 0–4 M 1.3 –19.9 F 2.7 –21.2 T 2.0 –20.5 5–9 M 24.8 –4.5 F 23.9 –0.7 T 24.4 –2.7 10–14 M 25.7 16.3 F 30.1 20.9 T 27.8 18.5 15–19 M 126.1 11.4 F 140.9 19.3 T 132.8 15.1 20–24 M –4.0 66.2 F 2.7 74.9 T –1.0 70.3 25–29 M –17.7 3.2 F –16.7 –1.9 T –17.3 0.8 30–34 M –8.2 –11.0 F –5.9 –17.9 T –7.1 –14.2 35–39 M 7.5 0.4 F 14.2 –7.2 T 10.7 –3.3 40–44 M 10.7 13.5 F 21.0 6.9 T 15.6 10.3 45–49 M 13.4 18.5 F 15.6 16.2 T 14.5 17.4 50–54 M 37.3 22.8 F 29.6 14.4 T 33.3 18.6 55–59 M 45.5 41.6 F 28.5 23.3 T 35.8 31.7 60–64 M 50.4 54.3 F 37.5 16.8 T 42.3 31.5 65–69 M 41.0 52.5 F 37.8 23.1 T 38.9 32.7 70–74 M 46.1 66.7 F 45.7 34.0 T 45.8 43.5 75 + M 23.6 100.6 F 28.3 95.9 T 27.1 97.1 Total M 17.0 9.4 F 20.1 8.8 T 18.5 9.1

1971– 1976 –2.0 –1.7 –1.9 –19.3 –19.9 –19.6 0.6 1.3 0.9 19.8 20.5 20.1 28.8 31.0 29.8 65.8 75.9 70.4 7.3 –0.4 3.8 –4.7 –13.9 –9.0 0.2 –5.0 –2.3 13.0 11.9 12.5 15.8 17.3 16.5 22.4 17.0 19.7 36.9 21.0 28.3 49.7 19.9 31.1 31.0 24.9 27.0 47.4 34.2 37.6 10.5 9.2 9.9

1976– 1981 4.6 3.5 4.1 1.5 –0.5 0.6 –16.0 –17.6 –16.8 8.6 6.6 7.6 39.3 33.5 36.5 40.0 40.4 40.2 87.2 102.8 93.9 12.6 6.6 9.9 8.1 –3.7 2.7 12.0 1.9 7.2 20.5 12.3 16.5 21.5 16.4 19.0 25.5 19.9 22.7 60.5 34.8 45.8 65.6 26.4 40.0 58.2 37.7 43.3 18.7 14.5 16.6

1981– 1986 0.7 0.2 0.4 1.0 0.4 0.7 –0.2 –3.6 –1.8 –19.8 –21.3 –20.5 –8.8 –3.1 –6.1 16.6 26.5 21.2 15.4 28.5 21.3 57.0 80.9 67.3 –3.8 0.7 –1.8 –3.9 –4.9 –4.4 4.5 1.9 3.2 16.0 13.2 14.6 15.0 15.3 15.2 16.9 12.6 14.6 39.4 20.7 28.4 40.0 26.0 30.2 5.4 7.9 6.6

1986– 1991 –11.2 –11.5 –11.4 –2.0 –2.3 –2.2 –4.7 –3.7 –4.2 –8.3 –8.1 –8.2 –21.5 –18.4 –20.0 –6.8 1.9 –2.6 19.0 26.0 22.3 18.6 27.3 22.7 59.4 72.7 65.3 –0.4 –2.7 –1.5 –5.0 –9.4 –7.0 6.1 1.4 3.9 15.7 9.7 12.7 17.4 15.1 16.2 16.0 9.7 12.5 46.8 17.2 26.8 3.3 5.0 4.1

1991– 1996 2.9 2.1 2.5 –5.9 –4.9 –5.4 3.5 5.4 4.4 5.4 8.2 6.7 4.0 5.1 4.6 –15.2 –4.7 –9.9 –0.8 12.6 5.8 25.5 34.5 29.8 23.0 36.5 29.3 67.7 85.8 75.8 3.1 4.1 3.6 –0.1 –3.9 –1.9 12.4 8.6 10.5 26.7 20.9 23.7 30.9 27.4 29.0 44.7 34.4 38.3 9.6 14.3 11.9

1996– 2001 –27.0 –27.0 –27.0 2.8 2.4 2.6 –2.0 –1.6 –1.8 0.1 0.1 0.1 –4.9 1.1 –1.9 –3.5 –1.8 –2.6 –18.7 –5.8 –11.9 –6.2 10.5 2.2 21.8 28.0 24.9 14.6 26.9 20.4 57.0 76.1 65.7 –3.1 –1.4 –2.3 –4.8 –8.7 –6.7 8.2 2.0 5.1 21.5 12.2 16.5 27.4 22.9 24.7 2.1 6.9 4.5

2001– 2006 –2.6 0.9 –0.9 –17.4 –16.7 –17.1 6.2 6.1 6.2 1.4 3.4 2.3 0.2 4.0 2.2 –7.0 –1.9 –4.3 –4.5 1.9 –0.9 –16.5 –2.5 –8.9 –6.1 11.9 3.0 22.6 27.8 25.2 16.4 27.0 21.5 58.7 77.7 67.5 –4.4 0.3 –2.2 –3.2 –4.3 –3.7 10.6 8.1 9.3 32.7 25.5 28.4 2.9 8.8 5.9

2006– 2011– 2016– 2011 2016 2021 3.7 0.9 0.8 3.9 0.9 0.8 3.8 0.9 0.8 –1.7 3.2 0.9 1.9 3.2 0.8 0.0 3.2 0.9 –14.4 –1.3 2.7 –13.5 1.7 2.8 –14.0 0.2 2.8 7.4 –13.0 –0.9 7.3 –11.9 1.8 7.4 –12.5 0.4 2.6 8.0 –12.7 6.1 7.8 –9.3 4.4 7.9 –10.9 –0.2 2.3 7.9 1.6 4.1 6.2 0.8 3.3 6.9 –5.8 0.4 2.5 –1.8 0.0 2.7 –3.5 0.2 2.6 –2.8 –4.8 0.7 0.4 –3.3 –1.0 –1.0 –3.9 –0.3 –15.3 –2.3 –4.5 –3.4 –0.9 –4.0 –8.7 –1.4 –4.2 –5.6 –15.3 –2.5 11.0 –4.2 –1.4 2.9 –9.2 –1.9 23.3 –5.7 –15.7 27.2 10.5 –4.5 25.3 2.6 –9.5 16.9 23.6 –6.2 26.9 27.0 10.4 21.8 25.3 2.4 61.7 18.2 25.0 76.7 26.8 27.0 68.9 22.5 26.0 –2.9 62.9 18.8 1.0 74.8 26.7 –1.0 68.8 22.8 –1.8 –2.0 64.7 –3.4 1.6 74.4 –2.6 –0.2 69.7 24.1 12.0 5.3 19.8 10.8 6.9 21.6 11.3 6.2 3.3 3.0 2.6 7.9 6.5 5.5 5.7 4.9 4.2

2021– 2026 –0.5 –0.7 –0.6 –0.1 –0.7 –0.4 –2.3 –3.2 –2.8 2.7 1.7 2.2 0.6 3.1 2.0 –12.1 –5.6 –8.5 7.8 5.3 6.3 2.1 –0.4 0.6 –0.1 –1.0 –0.6 –5.8 –3.5 –4.5 –3.9 –1.6 –2.6 –16.9 –4.9 –10.2 –5.5 10.0 2.6 24.2 25.8 25.0 18.5 25.9 22.4 29.1 28.8 28.9 1.6 4.5 3.2

2026– 2031 –0.6 –0.5 –0.6 –0.5 –0.5 –0.5 0.0 –0.6 –0.3 –2.1 –2.8 –2.4 2.7 1.9 2.3 0.4 2.8 1.8 –11.6 –4.9 –7.7 7.5 5.0 6.1 2.1 –0.5 0.6 0.0 –1.2 –0.7 –5.8 –3.6 –4.5 –3.9 –1.7 –2.6 –15.8 –4.6 –9.5 –5.7 10.0 2.7 24.9 26.1 25.5 27.7 30.9 29.5 1.2 3.9 2.7

Note: Our own calculation based on various issues of Hong Kong Population Projections published by the Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department. Highlighted are several initial abrupt changes in population that got carried into the later years. See p. 90 for additional discussions.

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93

past decades. However, by 2001–2006, this cohort has become 55–59 years old and will soon leave the labour force. The demographic dividend seems to have been spent. As the mortality rate has dropped to a very low level, the population is ageing rapidly. De-population might even arise if there were no net inward migration.3 We need to invest in human capital in order to create a knowledge-driven economy and to sustain future prosperity. Hong Kong is not alone in having to cope with the problem of an ageing population and the consequent slowdown in economic growth. Indeed, most developed countries face the problem of an ageing population and a rising dependency ratio.4 Is immigration a partial means to sustain economic growth and maintain welfare provisions in an ageing society? In their simulation of a model consisting of three developed economies (the United States, the United Kingdom and Japan), Fehr, Jokisch and Kotlikoff (2004) consider various alternative policies of capital deepening and increased immigration. They find that only if these countries massively expand high-skilled immigration can they solve their demographic dilemma. The question is how to attract these high-skilled immigrants in large numbers. Indeed, as implied by the recent demographic literature, such as Bloom et al. (2002), it might be possible for a country to continue receiving demographic dividends by introducing replacement migration (United Nations, 2000). To illustrate the importance of migration flow to Hong Kong’s future economic growth, we compare Hong Kong with six cities. These comparisons show how the surrounding national environment of a city shapes the nature of its population flows. First are New York and London, which are international financial centres that are much larger than Hong Kong. Second, we compare Hong Kong with Shanghai, Beijing, Guangzhou and Shenzhen, major cities in China that have grown rapidly in the past decade. Figure 2 plots the per capita income growth rate of these cities and their respective nations from 1990 to 2000. These cities, each part of a larger country, are relatively open to migrants and can draw on talents from a national scale. De facto migration control into these cities is minimal, and migration into and out of these cities are mostly driven by economic motivation.5 The institutional framework of these cities is similar to their hinterland. While the economic development of these cities could be faster than the rest of their respective countries, the public provisions for migrants into these cities are not very different from where they come from. In contrast, although Hong Kong is also part of China, it maintains a clear administrative border under the One Country, Two Systems arrangement. While it is open to immigration from other countries, its border is, for historical reasons, quite restrictive towards

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Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Figure 2 Per Capita Income Growth among Cities and Nations, 1990–2000 UK London USA

Per Capita GDP (PPP) 73.0% Average weekly earnings-male 84.0% Per Capita GDP (PPP) 54.8%

NY

NY-NJ-CMSA per Capita Personal Income 51.7%

HK

Per Capita GDP (PPP) 50.8% Per Capita GDP (PPP) 145.1%

China

Gross Regional Product per Capita 387.8%

Shenzhen

Gross Regional Product per Capita 660.3%

Guangzhou Gross Regional Product per Capita 533.2%

Shanghai

Gross Regional Product per Capita 377.6%

Beijing 0.0%

100.0%

200.0%

300.0%

400.0%

500.0%

600.0%

700.0%

Note: Our own calculation based on data from the following sources of published data: 1. China, UK, US and HK data from Penn World Table, 2002. 2. Guangzhou and Shenzhen data from Guangdong Statistical Yearbook, various issues. 3. Beijing and Shanghai data from China Statistical Yearbook, various issues. 4. London data from various issues of Regional Trends, Central Statistical Office.

migrants from Mainland China. But Hong Kong’s highly developed economy and generous public provisions make it extremely attractive for potential migrants from China. These are the characteristics one has to keep in mind when rethinking Hong Kong’s immigration policy in the future.

An Ageing City — Hong Kong First, among these seven cities, the fast growing cities generally experience fast population growth. Migrants are attracted into fast growing cities where there are more economic opportunities. In turn, migrants add fuel to the cities’ growth. Table 3 reports the population for the seven cities in 1990 and 2000, and their percentage change in population during the decade. The cities in China have higher population growth than the national rate of 10%. Shenzhen (population growth of 320%) experienced the fastest economic growth among them.6 New York experienced less than 10% growth in population and its economic growth rate was slightly lower than the national level (11.5%). London experienced 7% growth in population and enjoyed an economic growth higher than that of the national level (3%). Hong Kong experienced a moderate population growth of 17%.

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Table 3 Percentage Change in Population from 1990 to 2000 for the Seven Cities City/country

1990

2000

China Beijing Shanghai Guangzhou Shenzhen Hong Kong

1,155,306,000 10,819,414 13,341,852 6,299,943 1,667,398 5,752,000

1,275,217,000 13,569,194 16,407,734 9,942,022 7,008,831 6,724,900

Percentage change (%) 10.4 25.4 23.0 57.8 320.3 16.9

US New York City

255,710,000 7,322,564

285,000,000 8,008,278

11.5 9.4

UK London

56,762,000 6,673,346

58,689,000 7,172,091

3.4 7.5

Note: China data are from various issues of China Population Statistics Yearbook. The US and UK data are from websites of corresponding census bureau/department. Hong Kong data are from the various issues of Hong Kong Census Main Reports.

However, whether migrants into Hong Kong add fuel to the economy depends on their quality, in particular whether they are in their productive age at their arrival and their human capital. Second, the economically vibrant cities generally exhibit stable population distributions by age, which are caused by immigration of the working age groups and emigration of older age groups. One expects younger migrants in the fast growing cities eager to try their luck; whereas the older and less competitive people migrate out for less demanding careers and life styles. Table 4 reports the cumulative distribution of population by age group in the nation state of these cities, China, the US and the UK in 1990 and 2000. We highlight the age groups of the first quartile, the median and the third quartile. The data show that the population of China is ageing but the populations of the US and the UK have been relatively stable. However, the population distribution of their cities appears much younger than that of their nation state. Table 5 reports cumulative distribution by age group of the seven cities in 1990 and 2000, highlighting the age groups of the first quartile, the median and the third quartile. Except for Hong Kong, the distribution of these cities appears stable, with the majority of the population in the group of 20 to 44. Such a comparison suggests that these key cities have experienced substantial immigration of prime working age people and emigration of older people. Hong Kong is an exception. The population bulge of Hong Kong has shifted approximately by five years from 1991 to 2001. There has been mild immigration of prime working age and younger age groups into Hong Kong, but emigration of older groups is minimal. The result is clear — Hong Kong’s city population is ageing.

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Table 4 Cumulative Distribution of Population by Age Group (%) by Nations in 1990 and 2000 China

US

UK

Age

1990

2000

1990

2000

1990

2000

0–9 10–14 15–19 20–24 25–29 30–34 35–39 40–44 45–49 50–54 55–59 60+

19.1 27.7 38.3 49.4 58.7 66.1 73.7 79.4 83.7 87.7 91.4 100

15.6 24.8 32.7 40.4 49.9 59.8 68.1 74.6 81.3 86.2 89.9 100

15.0 21.8 28.8 36.3 45.0 53.9 62.0 69.1 74.7 79.3 83.5 100

14.6 21.8 28.9 35.6 42.5 49.7 57.7 65.7 72.9 79.1 83.9 100

13.0 19.1 25.6 33.1 40.9 48.0 54.7 61.9 68.1 73.6 78.9 100

12.5 19.1 25.2 31.2 37.9 45.7 53.6 60.5 66.8 73.8 79.3 100

Note: Our own calculation based on World Population Prospect, The 2002 Revision, published by United Nations Population Division. Highlighted are the age groups of the first quartile, the median and the third quartile.

Table 5 Cumulative Distribution of Population by Age Group (%) by Cities in 1990 and 2000 Beijing Age 0–9 10–14 15–19 20–24 25–29 30–34 35–39 40–44 45–49 50–54 55–59 60+

Shanghai Guangzhou Shenzhen Hong Kong New York

London

1990 2000 1990 2000 1990 2000 1990 2000 1991 2001 1990 2000 1991 2001 14.9 20.2 27.5 37.4 49.0 59.8 68.9 74.7 79.3 84.8 89.9 100

7.1 13.6 22.7 32.0 41.3 51.0 61.5 70.6 78.6 83.7 87.5 100

13.1 18.2 23.7 30.9 40.6 53.0 63.7 70.9 75.7 80.2 85.8 100

6.6 12.3 20.1 28.4 36.6 45.1 54.3 64.7 74.4 81.0 85.0 100

16.6 22.8 32.7 43.9 54.4 63.5 71.6 77.5 81.6 86.0 90.3 100

10.4 16.4 26.9 39.7 52.9 63.8 72.7 79.0 84.7 88.6 91.3 100

10.3 14.6 33.7 60.0 73.2 80.8 86.5 90.2 92.6 94.8 96.5 100

6.2 8.5 23.2 48.2 68.4 81.9 89.6 93.1 95.6 97.0 98.0 100

13.5 20.8 28.1 36.0 46.4 57.3 66.3 73.6 78.0 82.5 87.0 100

10.0 16.4 23.1 30.0 37.8 46.5 56.7 66.8 74.8 81.3 85.1 100

13.2 19.4 25.8 33.7 43.2 52.4 60.4 67.6 73.3 78.2 82.5 100

13.8 20.4 26.9 34.3 42.8 51.3 59.6 67.1 73.7 79.8 84.4 100

13.0 18.5 24.2 32.9 43.3 51.8 58.6 65.5 71.1 76.2 81.0 100

13.0 19.0 24.8 32.3 41.9 51.6 60.4 67.6 73.4 79.1 83.6 100

Note: Our own calculation based on various sources of published data. China data are from various issues of China Population Statistics Yearbook. The US and UK data are from websites of corresponding census bureau/department. Hong Kong data are from the various issues of Hong Kong Census Main Reports. Highlighted are the age groups of the first quartile, the median and the third quartile.

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Table 6 Distribution of New York Population by Age and Place of Birth in 1990 and 2000 Year 1990 as % of as % of total in US born total in age Local born age group but not NY group

Foreign born

0–14 15–19 20–24 25–29 30–34 35–39 40–44 45–49 50–54 55–59 60+

2,393,500 717,600 723,600 774,500 752,300 660,400 589,700 463,300 389,800 395,400 1,537,500

85.9% 76.9% 70.1% 64.4% 60.6% 58.4% 55.4% 53.1% 53.3% 57.8% 58.6%

116,800 46,000 75,600 111,100 129,700 139,600 133,600 134,100 105,100 94,500 401,500

4.2% 4.9% 7.3% 9.2% 10.5% 12.3% 12.5% 15.4% 14.4% 13.8% 15.3%

277,600 169,700 233,600 316,800 359,100 330,700 341,600 274,300 236,200 194,400 684,800

10.0% 18.2% 22.6% 26.3% 28.9% 29.2% 32.1% 31.5% 32.3% 28.4% 26.1%

2,787,900 933,300 1,032,800 1,202,400 1,241,100 1,130,700 1,064,900 871,700 731,100 684,300 794,600

Total

9,397,600

65.7%

1,487,600

10.4%

3,418,800

23.9%

14,304,000

Age

as % of total in age Total in age group group

Year 2000 as % of as % of total in US born total in age Local born age group but not NY group

Foreign born

0–14 15–19 20–24 25–29 30–34 35–39 40–44 45–49 50–54 55–59 60+

2,793,800 685,600 530,600 545,800 595,000 653,400 630,900 544,100 482,900 354,200 1,357,100

87.3% 70.1% 58.4% 52.5% 51.6% 52.2% 52.2% 51.1% 50.0% 48.2% 53.4%

115,600 49,100 64,300 98,000 101,200 103,700 105,500 113,100 118,800 115,700 362,000

3.6% 5.0% 7.1% 9.4% 8.8% 8.3% 8.7% 10.6% 12.3% 15.7% 14.3%

292,600 243,100 314,200 396,600 456,200 495,200 471,500 408,200 363,800 265,100 820,900

9.1% 24.9% 34.6% 38.1% 39.6% 39.5% 39.0% 38.3% 37.7% 36.1% 32.3%

3,202,000 977,800 909,100 1,040,400 1,152,400 1,252,300 1,207,900 1,065,400 965,500 735,000 2,540,000

Total

9,173,400

61.0%

1,347,000

9.0%

4,527,400

30.1%

15,047,800

Age

Note: Our own calculation based on the US 1% census samples.

as % of total in age Total in age group group

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Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Table 7 Distribution of Hong Kong Population by Age and Place of Birth in 1991 and 2001 Year 1991

Age

HK born

as % of as % of total in total in age age group China born group

Foreign born

as % of total in age Total in age group group

0–14 1,045,835 15–19 334,813 20–24 343,908 25–29 444,639 30–34 404,559 35–39 286,918 40–44 175,500 45–49 51,474 50–54 58,115 55–59 51,678 60+ 102,158

90.8% 81.7% 79.9% 77.0% 67.3% 58.4% 43.9% 21.5% 23.4% 20.1% 14.2%

76,992 68,832 68,004 98,052 158,349 170,099 195,714 165,082 173,220 195,009 598,155

6.7% 16.8% 15.8% 17.0% 26.4% 34.6% 49.0% 69.1% 69.7% 76.0% 83.4%

29,089 5,997 18,287 34,876 37,813 34,313 28,488 22,484 17,283 9,958 16,588

2.5% 1.5% 4.3% 6.0% 6.3% 7.0% 7.1% 9.4% 7.0% 3.9% 2.3%

1,151,916 409,642 430,199 577,567 600,721 491,330 399,702 239,040 248,618 256,645 716,901

Total

59.8%

1,967,508

35.6%

255,176

4.6%

5,522,281

3,299,597

Year 2001 as % of as % of total in total in age age group China born group

Foreign born

as % of total in age Total in age group group

Age

HK born

0–14 15–19 20–24 25–29 30–34 35–39 40–44 45–49 50–54 55–59 60+

926,391 367,901 357,557 359,318 382,782 470,466 421,000 293,302 183,903 53,260 189,014

83.5% 81.7% 76.1% 68.3% 65.7% 68.7% 62.3% 55.2% 42.9% 21.5% 18.9%

139,166 72,640 70,989 104,484 126,670 156,645 210,337 207,609 221,581 175,693 777,757

12.5% 16.1% 15.1% 19.9% 21.7% 22.9% 31.1% 39.1% 51.7% 70.8% 77.7%

43,860 9,778 41,580 62,070 73,205 57,271 44,768 30,723 23,299 19,292 34,078

4.0% 2.2% 8.8% 11.8% 12.6% 8.4% 6.6% 5.8% 5.4% 7.8% 3.4%

1,109,417 450,319 470,126 525,872 582,657 684,382 676,105 531,634 428,783 248,245 1,000,849

Total 4,004,894

59.7%

2,263,571

33.7%

439,924

6.6%

6,708,389

Note: The Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department supplied the calculation using full census samples of the corresponding years.

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future

99

Third, net immigration in Hong Kong mainly consists of the dependants of Hong Kong men. Census data for Hong Kong and the US allow us to conduct a slightly more detailed comparison of migration flow. Tables 6 and 7 report the distribution of population by age and place of birth for New York and Hong Kong respectively. For New York, the population outflow consists mainly of those who are born in New York. There is also an outflow of older age groups born in the US, but not in New York. There is a large inflow of foreign born in the prime working age groups. Indeed, New York is known to be a magnet for immigrants. For Hong Kong, there is an inflow of those born in Hong Kong in the prime working ages. These are likely to be returnees who emigrated in the 1980s due to political uncertainty and their children. However, the largest inflow is comprised of those born in China. The large number of China-born in the 10–19 age group are the children of Hong Kong men and Mainland women, who are coming to Hong Kong to reunite with their parents. Those in the 35–64 age groups are likely to be spouses of Hong Kong men. Figure 3 confirms that the ratio of Chinese female to male immigrants (with less than seven years of residence) of the 35–64 age groups has increased substantially in recent years. In short, Hong Kong has not seen immigration and emigration driven by economic motivation, that is, older persons moving out of the expensive city and younger ones moving into it to find their fortune. By allowing replacement migration, and decelerating the demographic transition, cities like New York and London have stopped the ageing process. They continue Figure 3 Ratio of Chinese Females to Males with Less Than Seven Years of Residence 800% 700%

1991

1996

2001

600% 500% 400% 300% 200% 100% 0% age = 0–14

15–34

35–64

65 +

Note: Our own calculation based on Table 3.1, Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland China Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, published by the Census and Statistics Department, HKSAR, 2002.

100 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

to receive some demographic dividend. On the other hand, Hong Kong’s population is ageing because there is little replacement migration. Figure 1 shows an alarming projection of Hong Kong’s population structure into 2031. Mild net inflow (an assumption underlying the population projection by the Census and Statistics Department) is not enough to replace the working population in Hong Kong. Non-economic motivated net inflow may attract groups that are not of prime working age or of the right human capital content. It is not difficult to imagine that Hong Kong’s economic growth will slow down as the population grows older.

The Human Capital Content of Residents Productivity of an economy depends on the human capital content of its working population. The stock of human capital will rise with public and private investments in education. Because migrants carry with them their human capital, the nature of migrant flows also affects general productivity. As an indicator of human capital content in these cities, Figure 4 plots the percentage of population with secondary education and above for the seven cities and the three countries under study. Figure 5 shows populations with a university degree or higher. To account for the difference in the definitions in the published data by different countries, the data are grouped into three subfigures. Subfigure A compares the population aged 6 and above of Hong Kong with other Chinese cities. Subfigure B compares the population aged 25 and above of Hong Kong with New York and the United States. Subfigure C compares the working population of Hong Kong with London and the United Kingdom. The figures illustrate that the populations of these cities and nations have become more educated in the past decade. From Figure 4, one can see that the percentage of population with secondary education and above was higher in the cities than in the respective nations. For example, whereas in 2000, 35.2% of the population in Shanghai attained secondary education and above, the national level was at 15.8%. Figure 5 reveals that the percentage of population with university degrees was higher in London and New York than the national average. For example, in 2001, 22.9% of the population in London had at least a university degree in contrast to 14.8% at the national level; 30.2% of the population in New York City held at least a university degree in 2000 but only 25.6% at the national level did. The average quality of Hong Kong’s population was closer to that of Beijing and Shanghai. Relative to London and New York, Hong Kong lags far behind.7

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 101 Figure 4 Population with Upper Secondary and Above Education, 1990 and 2000

A. HK vs Major Cities in China (as % of total population with aged 6 or above) 90.0% 80.0% 70.0% 60.0% 50.0% 40.0% 30.0%

2000 41.7% 1999 31.0%

2001 46.0% 2000 35.2% 1990 28.2%

2000 31.7%

1990 25.3%

1991 36.7%

2000 31.7%

1990 26.4%

2000 1990 15.8% 10.6%

20.0% 10.0% 0.0% Beijing

B.

Shanghai

Shenzhen

C. HK vs New York & US (as % of total population with aged 25 or above) 90.0%

2000 1990 78.5% 75.1%

80.0%

2000 84.1% 1990 75.2%

40.0%

2001 46.4%

HK

90.0% 80.0%

60.0%

60.0%

China

HK vs London & UK (as % of total working age * population)

70.0%

70.0%

50.0%

Guangzhou

50.0%

2001 59.7%

2001 1991 65.9% 64.3%

2001 69.5% 1991 62.0%

Londonworking age pop*

HK working age pop*

1991 48.4%

40.0%

1991 36.2%

30.0% 30.0% 20.0% 20.0%

10.0%

10.0%

0.0%

0.0% HK (aged 25+)

NY (aged 25+)

US aged 25+)

HK working age pop*

* UK–working age population: Aged 16–64 male, 16–59 female ONLY. Note: China data are from various issues of China Population Statistics Yearbook. The US and UK data are from websites of corresponding census bureau/department. Hong Kong data are from the various issues of Hong Kong Census Main Reports.

102 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Figure 5 Population with University Degree and Above Education, 1990 and 2000

A. HK vs Major Cities in China (as % of total population with aged 6 or above) 35.0%

30.0%

25.0%

20.0%

15.0%

10.0%

2001 11.2%

2000 9.6% 1990 6.1%

5.0%

2000 1990 5.4% 3.5%

2000 1990 3.3% 2.2%

2000 1990 4.3% 2.9%

1991 5.0% 2000 1990 1.3% 0.6%

0.0% Beijing

B.

Shanghai

Shenzhen

HK vs New York & US C. (as % of total population with aged 25 or above)

Guangzhou

China

HK

HK vs London & UK (as % of total working age * population) 35.0%

35.0%

30.0%

30.0%

25.0%

25.0%

20.0%

20.0%

15.0%

15.0%

10.0% 10.0% 5.0% 5.0% 0.0% 0.0% HK (aged 25+)

NY (aged 25+) US (aged 25+)

HK working age pop*

Londonworking age pop*

UK-working age pop*

* UK–working age population: Aged 16–64 male, 16–59 female ONLY. Note: China data are from various issues of China Population Statistics Yearbook. The US and UK data are from websites of corresponding census bureau/department. Hong Kong data are from the various issues of Hong Kong Census Main Reports.

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 103

We also note that the difference between the Chinese cities and China on average is larger than that of other city-nation pairs, largely due to the historical rural-urban divide during the Maoist decades. In the post-reform era, these talents tend to congregate in the fast growing cities because the return to their human capital is much higher. Hong Kong and New York, both international financial centres, need similar quality immigrants to sustain their economic growth. The availability of census data for the US and Hong Kong allows us to compare the quality of residents in more detail. Table 8 reports the percentage of population with degree-holders aged 15 to 59 by place of birth in New York City over a 30-year period. We find that regardless of place of birth, the proportion of degree-holders has increased. Table 9 is similar to Table 8 except that the total population and the total number of degree-holders are used as denominators. Table 9 shows that the percentage of degree-holders born in foreign countries has increased continuously, from 1.5% of the total population in 1970 to 8.5% in 2000. Clearly, New York draws talents from other countries, as well as other parts of the U.S. Looking at the percentage of population with degree-holders aged 15 to 59 by place of birth in Hong Kong for a 25-year period (Table 10), we find that similar to New York, all groups have become more educated, regardless of place of birth. Table 11 is similar to Table 10 but uses the total population and the total number of degree-holders as denominators. Table 11 shows that the percentage of degree-holders born in Hong Kong has increased continuously, from 0.5% of the total population in 1976 to 6.9% in 2001. Thus, in contrast to New York, talents in Hong Kong are largely created by our own investment in education. Tables 10 and 11 also suggest a divergence in human capital content between those born in China and those born in Hong Kong. Indeed, Lam and Liu (2002a, 2002b) find that the earning gap between immigrants and native males has widened, from 11.3% in 1981 to 25.5% in 1991. They attributed the widening earning gap to (i) a divergence of market returns to the immigrants’ and the natives’ education, (ii) a shift in the demand for Table 8

Percentage of Different Groups (by Place of Birth) of Population with a University Degree, Aged 15 to 59, New York City

Year

Born in New York

Born in all other US cities

Born in foreign countries

1970 1980 1990 2000

12.5% 19.0% 26.3% 29.5%

15.4% 24.6% 39.3% 47.4%

8.0% 13.2% 19.3% 23.1%

Note: Our own calculation based on the US 1% census samples.

104 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 9

Percentage of Population with a University Degree, Aged 15 to 59 by Place of Birth, New York City Born in New York

Year

as % of all degree holders

as % of total population

1970 1980 1990 2000

64.4% 64.4% 62.7% 55.2%

7.9% 11.8% 16.2% 15.9%

Born in all other US cities Born in foreign countries as % of all degree holders 23.3% 18.6% 16.6% 15.4%

as % of total population 2.8% 3.4% 4.3% 4.4%

as % of as % of all degree total holders population 12.3% 17.1% 20.7% 29.4%

1.5% 3.1% 5.3% 8.5%

Note: Our own calculation based on the US 1% census samples.

Table 10

Percentage of Different Groups (by Place of Birth) of Population with a University Degree, Aged 15 to 59, Hong Kong

Year

Born in HK

Born in China

Born in other foreign countries

1976 1981 1986 1991 1996 2001

1.9% 3.0% 4.2% 6.2% 12.0% 16.1%

2.5% 2.8% 3.4% 4.1% 7.2% 7.5%

14.7% 18.7% 22.7% 25.6% 31.5% 27.6%

Note: The Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department supplied the 1981 to 2001 calculation using full census samples of the corresponding years. The 1976 calculation is ours, based on a 10% census sample.

Table 11 Percentage of Population with a University Degree, Aged 15 to 59 by Place of Birth, Hong Kong

Born in HK

Year

as % of all degree holders

as % of total population

1976 1981 1986 1991 1996 2001

34.9% 44.0% 50.2% 55.7% 61.6% 69.8%

0.5% 1.0% 1.5% 2.4% 4.9% 6.9%

Born in China as % of all degree holders 46.5% 35.5% 28.4% 21.9% 18.9% 15.2%

as % of total population 0.7% 0.8% 0.9% 1.0% 1.5% 1.5%

Born in other foreign countries as % of as % of all degree total holders population 18.6% 20.5% 21.4% 22.3% 19.5% 15.0%

0.3% 0.5% 0.7% 1.0% 1.6% 1.5%

Note: The Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department supplied the 1981 to 2001 calculation using full census samples of the corresponding years. The 1976 calculation is ours, based on a 10% census sample.

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 105

skills as the economy restructured toward a service economy, and (iii) that the immigrants are less educated in recent years. Tables 10 and 11 suggest that this trend is likely to continue into 2001. What has caused the difference in the quality of immigrants into the two cities? The differences lie in the immigration policies and the state of economic development in the respective countries. For New York, there is no immigration border between the city and the nation. Those who come to New York from other parts of the United States, largely the educated and working age groups, are motivated by economic reasons. For Hong Kong, immigration from China is restrictive. Most come for non-economic reasons — family reunion.

The Expatriates in Hong Kong How about workers from foreign countries? Has Hong Kong been an attractive place for foreign talents? The availability of Hong Kong census data allows us to explore these two questions slightly. We focus on the economically active persons who were born in foreign countries, excluding domestic helpers, and call them expatriates. Table 12 shows the number of economically active persons, excluding domestic helpers, by place of birth in 1991, 1996 and 2001, and the corresponding percentage change during the decade. The numbers of expatriates in Hong Kong appear quite volatile, responding mainly to Hong Kong’s economic opportunities relative to their home countries. Overall, there was an increase of 23.1% of expatriates during the boom years from 1991 to 1996 and a decrease of 11.7% during the recession years from 1996 to 2001. The variability of expatriates from the United States is the most dramatic during the decade, an increase of 81.5% from 1991 to 1996 and a decrease of 35.8% from 1996 to 2001. Table 13 shows the age distributions of these expatriates in 1991, 1996 and 2001. It shows that most expatriates are in their prime working age (25– 44). It appears that some expatriates leave Hong Kong when they are older. Table 14 shows the percentage of these expatriates with a university degree and above by place of birth. As expected, those born in the developed countries (UK, Japan, US, Australia, Canada) are more educated than those born in the less developed countries. For instance, at least 80% of those born in the US hold a university degree in all three census years but less than 14% for those born in Thailand. Immigration policy aside, the attractiveness of Hong Kong as a place to work and live for expatriates depends mainly on the economic opportunities in Hong Kong relative to their home countries. Immigration

106 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 12 Number of Economically Active Persons, Excluding Domestic Helpers, by Place of Birth in 1991, 1996 and 2001 Total number of persons Place of birth UK Australia United States of America Canada Japan Philippines Thailand India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri-Lanka Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Vietnam, Nepal, Portugal, Others All

Percentage change

1991

1996

2001

14,003 1,974 3,656 827 5,157 10,011 5,355 8,253 59,140

18,702 3,201 6,636 2,303 9,698 15,629 6,419 11,866 58,954

13,525 3,622 4,258 2,268 7,234 10,869 7,550 12,362 56,164

33.6% 62.2% 81.5% 178.5% 88.1% 56.1% 19.9% 43.8% –0.3%

–27.7% 13.2% –35.8% –1.5% –25.4% –30.5% 17.6% 4.2% –4.7%

108,376 133,408

117,852

23.1%

–11.7%

1991–1996 1996–2001

Note: The Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department supplied the calculation using full census samples of the corresponding years.

Table 13 Age Distribution of Economically Active Persons, Excluding Domestic Helpers, by Place of Birth in 1991, 1996 and 2001 Age groups 15–24

25–44

45–59

Place of birth

1991

1996

2001

1991

1996

2001

1991 1996 2001

UK Australia United States of America Canada Japan Philippines Thailand India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri-Lanka Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Vietnam, Nepal, Portugal, Others

12.3% 5.7% 5.4% 8.7% 4.8% 11.5% 13.1% 13.4%

7.8% 6.3% 6.7% 9.2% 3.9% 9.0% 11.4% 16.9%

3.3% 3.3% 6.0% 13.9% 1.5% 7.2% 5.4% 16.7%

62.8% 70.7% 69.6% 80.4% 73.7% 73.5% 58.8% 57.4%

66.8% 67.6% 65.4% 71.7% 71.2% 73.3% 60.2% 53.9%

69.3% 71.4% 67.8% 67.1% 72.9% 72.4% 59.4% 58.1%

24.9% 23.6% 25.1% 10.9% 21.6% 15.0% 28.1% 29.2%

7.1%

5.8%

4.8% 56.1% 53.8% 51.7% 36.8% 40.4% 43.6%

All

8.8%

7.7%

6.1% 60.6% 60.7% 59.6% 30.7% 31.6% 34.3%

25.4% 26.1% 27.9% 19.2% 25.0% 17.8% 28.5% 29.2%

27.4% 25.3% 26.3% 19.1% 25.6% 20.4% 35.2% 25.3%

Note: The Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department supplied the calculation using full census samples of the corresponding years.

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 107 Table 14 Proportion of Economically Active Persons with a University Degree, Excluding Domestic Helpers, by Place of Birth in 1991, 1996 and 2001 Place of birth

1991

1996

2001

UK Australia United States of America Canada Japan Philippines Thailand India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri-Lanka Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Vietnam, Nepal, Portugal, Others

51.2% 57.6% 87.1% 78.8% 74.5% 33.5% 8.4% 26.3% 20.9%

62.4% 64.0% 82.2% 62.0% 74.2% 43.8% 10.0% 35.2% 31.5%

73.0% 76.0% 90.8% 86.2% 78.8% 49.8% 13.5% 34.5% 32.3%

All

31.7%

43.5%

45.0%

Note: The Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department supplied the calculation using full census samples of the corresponding years.

policy that grants working permit to foreigners reflects how much the government is willing to accommodate foreign talents. In 2003, the United Kingdom implemented a new programme to grant the highly skilled migrant workers and their spouses (defined on a clear point system, based on education and experience) to work in the UK without an employer as sponsor for the work permits. In contrast, apart from the requirement of a employer sponsor for obtaining a work permit, Hong Kong tightened its law in 2003 to disallow the dependents of working permit holders to work (including part-time and volunteer) in Hong Kong unless they are approved by the Director of Immigration. In a world of keen competition for talents among countries, this tightening of immigration policy in Hong Kong will likely push some talents away.

Projecting into the Future As an attempt to see Hong Kong’s future, we project the human capital content of our residents into 2031 based on three assumptions:8 1. The population size and net immigration flow by age and gender groups projected to 2031 by the Census and Statistics Department. Table 15 reports the implied net immigration flow by age and gender group. 2. The assumption that the probability of advancing from one level of education to the next is the same as that from 1996 to 2001 throughout our projection period. Figure 6 plots the smoothed probability of advancing from one level to another for natives.

108 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

3.

The assumption that in each given age and gender groups, the distribution of immigrants by place of birth and education attainment is the same as those that arrived between 1996 and 2001. Figures 7 and 8 plot, respectively, the distribution of male and female immigrants from Mainland China by education attainment.

We have also held constant the public and private investment patterns in Hong Kong, the quality of immigrants, and the mix of immigrants from different places of birth. Table 16 reports the number of degree-holders (those with a bachelor degree and above) by age from 1976 to 2001 and its projection into 2031. Table 17 reports the corresponding percentage from total population. Figure 9 is a smoothed plot of the numbers in Table 17. If Hong Kong’s immigration policy remains unchanged, our analysis suggests that there will be an increase in the percentage of degree-holders (out of total population) from 8.7% in 2001 to 15.5% 2031. This proportion is still much less than the 30% of New York in 2000.9

Figure 6 The Estimated Probability of Advancing to the Next Level of Education

0.8 0.7

Level 0

Level 1

Level 2

Level 3

0.6 0.5 0.4 0.3 0.2 0.1

75+

70–74

65–69

60–64

55–59

50–54

45–49

40–44

35–39

30–34

25–29

20–24

15–19

10–14

5–9

0–4

0

Note: The lines are the probability of advancing to the next level of education. For example, the line corresponding to Level 0 is the probability of advancing to Level 1 in the next five years given the individual is at Level 0 today. The estimates are based on the 1996 and 2001 Hong Kong 5% sample Census data. Level 0: No schooling or kindergarten Level 1: Primary or secondary Level 2: Post-secondary Level 3: University or above

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 109 Table 15 Implied New-borns (Aged 0–4) and Immigrants (Aged 5 and above), Hong Kong Age 0–4

5–9

10–14

15–19

20–24

25–29

30–34

35–39

40–44

45+

Total

Sex 2001–2006 2006–2011 2011–2016 2016–2021 2021–2026 2026–2031 M

140,100

145,300

146,600

147,800

147,000

146,100

F

133,600

138,800

140,000

141,100

140,100

139,400

T

273,700

284,100

286,600

288,900

287,100

285,500

M

26,300

27,200

27,300

27,500

26,200

26,200

F

27,300

29,100

29,100

29,300

27,100

27,200

T

53,600

56,300

56,400

56,800

53,300

53,400

M

29,100

31,000

31,300

31,400

25,200

25,300

F

29,800

31,800

32,100

32,300

24,500

24,500

T

58,900

62,800

63,400

63,700

49,700

49,800

M

11,200

14,700

16,100

16,700

17,100

17,200

F

15,100

18,700

20,100

20,700

18,900

19,200

T

26,300

33,400

36,200

37,400

36,000

36,400

M

0

0

200

1,000

4,300

4,400

F

34,700

42,600

46,900

48,800

53,000

54,500

T

34,700

42,600

47,100

49,800

57,300

58,900

M

0

0

0

0

0

0

F

37,000

31,900

28,400

26,000

35,300

35,500

T

37,000

31,900

28,400

26,000

35,300

35,500

M

4,100

6,900

8,200

8,800

9,200

9,400

F

49,800

49,400

45,000

42,000

41,600

41,700

T

53,900

56,300

53,200

50,800

50,800

51,100

M

4,900

9,000

11,000

12,000

11,300

11,500

F

34,700

29,900

23,800

20,100

10,000

9,500

T

39,600

38,900

34,800

32,100

21,300

21,000

M

2,400

5,800

7,200

7,600

5,500

5,700

F

13,300

9,800

5,100

2,300

2,400

1,900

T

15,700

15,600

12,300

9,900

7,900

7,600

M

0

0

0

0

0

0

F

0

0

0

0

0

0

T

0

0

0

0

0

0

M

218,100

239,900

247,900

252,800

245,800

245,800

F

375,300

382,000

370,500

362,600

352,900

353,400

T

593,400

621,900

618,400

615,400

598,700

599,200

Note: Based on the population projection by age and gender of the Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department. For instance, the new-borns between 2001 and 2006 are simply the population in the age group of 0–4 in 2006. The number of immigrants in the age group of 5–9 in 2006 is the difference between the number of persons in the age group of 5–9 in 2006 and the number of persons in the age group of 0–4 in 2001. In the calculation, mortality is ignored. For those aged 45 and above, the number of immigrants is assumed zero.

110 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Figure 7

Assumed Distribution of Education Attainment of New Chinese Male Immigrants

1.2 1

Level 0

Level 1

Level 2

Level 3

0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2

75+

70–74

65–69

60–64

55–59

50–54

45–49

40–44

35–39

30–34

25–29

20–24

15–19

10–14

5–9

0–4

0

Note: The lines are the probability of new Chinese male immigrants to have attained a specific level of education in a given age group. The estimates are based on the 2001 Hong Kong 5% sample Census data. Level 0: No schooling or kindergarten Level 1: Primary or secondary Level 2: Post-secondary Level 3: University or above

Figure 8

Assumed Distribution of Education Attainment of New Chinese Female Immigrants

1.2 1

Level 0

Level 1

Level 2

Level 3

0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2

75+

70–74

65–69

60–64

55–59

50–54

45–49

40–44

35–39

30–34

25–29

20–24

15–19

10–14

5–9

0–4

0

Note: The lines are the probability of new Chinese female immigrants to have attained a specific level of education in a given age group. The estimates are based on the 2001 Hong Kong 5% sample Census data. Level 0: No schooling or kindergarten Level 1: Primary or secondary Level 2: Post-secondary Level 3: University or above

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 111 Table 16

Projected Number of Degree-Holders, 1976–2031

Age Sex 1976 1981 0–14

M F T

15–19 M F T

0 0 0

0 0 0

1,380 880 890 540 2,270 1,420

1986

1991

1996

2001

2006

2011

2016

2021

2026

2031

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

1,236 1,321 2,557

2500 2400 4900

4,200 4,340 8,540

280 120 400

51 0 51

3,025 1,938 4,963

2,850 2,100 4,950

2,803 2,163 4,966

2,907 2,239 5,146

2,907 2,240 5,147

20–24 M 10,860 9,840 12,493 17900 44,480 22,480 9,610 10,363 13,084 F 6,790 6,180 9,521 16380 47,000 28,280 8,379 6,815 8,909 T 17,650 16,020 22,014 34280 91,480 50,760 17,989 17,178 21,993

9,977 9,866 10,232 8,950 9,233 9,500 18,927 19,099 19,732

25–29 M 11,000 14,800 19,764 26920 50,520 57,720 46,168 24,293 25,640 F 6,050 7,800 14,029 20420 50,760 63,400 56,155 32,475 28,732 T 17,050 22,600 33,793 47340 101,280 121,120 102,323 56,768 54,372

26,254 18,744 18,582 29,274 32,589 33,262 55,528 51,333 51,844

30–34 M 8,050 12,020 18,664 25720 52,660 55,080 70,446 66,908 42,356 F 3,610 5,720 10,021 17300 46,820 58,040 82,695 81,365 53,488 T 11,660 17,740 28,686 43020 99,480 113,120 153,141 148,273 95,844

44,359 42,979 31,424 48,521 48,131 51,893 92,880 91,110 83,317

35–39 M 10,410 9,540 15,479 20580 42,640 55,040 65,466 83,549 84,191 59,237 61,055 58,159 F 3,690 4,740 7,443 11380 28,060 45,120 69,371 94,743 95,133 65,383 58,646 57,646 T 14,100 14,280 22,921 31960 70,700 100,160 134,837 178,292 179,324 124,620 119,701 115,805 40–44 M F T

7,070 11,420 11,114 16180 30,220 41,640 62,180 73,329 92,318 94,639 68,409 70,421 2,220 4,820 5,421 7460 18,720 28,040 49,106 73,261 98,382 99,061 68,915 61,860 9,290 16,240 16,536 23640 48,940 69,680 111,286 146,590 190,700 193,700 137,324 132,281

45–49 M F T

4,850 8,660 14,643 11360 21,760 25,200 44,454 65,040 75,773 94,856 97,818 71,484 1,250 2,400 5,579 5580 10,460 16,280 28,270 49,213 73,340 98,423 99,079 68,934 6,100 11,060 20,221 16940 32,220 41,480 72,724 114,253 149,113 193,279 196,897 140,418

50–54 M F T

4,640 4,780 9,257 14040 15,320 18,880 25,821 45,290 65,907 76,496 95,601 98,758 1,260 1,180 2,993 5600 7,460 9,860 16,356 28,272 49,213 73,340 98,423 99,079 5,900 5,960 12,250 19640 22,780 28,740 42,177 73,562 115,120 149,836 194,024 197,837

55–59 M F T

4,070 4,240 840 1,100 4,910 5,340

5,250 8200 18,160 13,280 18,931 25,878 45,372 65,992 76,566 95,674 1,636 2500 6,700 6,500 9,934 16,356 28,272 49,213 73,340 98,423 6,886 10700 24,860 19,780 28,865 42,234 73,644 115,205 149,906 194,097

60–64 M F T

3,280 3,980 500 720 3,780 4,700

4,164 1,136 5,300

4360 9,280 14,380 13,461 19,141 26,127 1380 2,700 6,260 6,572 9,934 16,356 5740 11,980 20,640 20,033 29,075 42,483

45,731 66,364 76,876 28,272 49,213 73,340 74,003 115,577 150,216

65–69 M F T

1,830 2,860 240 400 2,070 3,260

3,400 600 4,000

3120 780 3900

3,860 8,280 15,009 14,100 20,076 1,180 2,860 6,302 6,579 9,934 5,040 11,140 21,311 20,679 30,010

27,236 47,326 68,017 16,356 28,272 49,213 43,592 75,598 117,230

70–74 M F T

1,250 1,140 110 240 1,360 1,380

2,529 471 3,000

2200 540 2740

2,980 880 3,860

3,660 9,114 16,337 15,579 1,080 2,902 6,346 6,638 4,740 12,016 22,683 22,217

22,260 29,829 51,011 10,025 16,486 28,486 32,285 46,315 79,497

900 1,180 80 140 980 1,320

2,043 357 2,400

2420 540 2960

3,740 1,080 4,820

4,840 1,700 6,540

27,541 35,364 47,454 7,706 11,750 18,911 35,247 47,114 66,365

75+

M F T

8,537 17,008 26,992 1,230 3,336 7,166 9,767 20,344 34,158

Total

M 69,590 85,340 120,036 155,500 299,820 320,760 389,248 464,261 536,265 597,381 652,828 700,999 F 27,530 35,980 60,528 92,260 226,160 267,540 337,272 410,633 477,663 536,687 596,316 652,787 T 97,120 121,320 180,564 247,760 525,980 588,300 726,520 874,894 1,013,928 1,134,068 1,249,144 1,353,786

112 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 17 Projected Percentage of Degree-Holders out of Total Population, 1976–2031 Age

Sex 1976 1981 1986 1991 1996 2001 2006 2011 2016 2021 2026 2031

0–14

M F T

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

15–19

M

0.03 0.02

0.02 0.04 0.07 0.00

0.00

F T

0.02 0.01 0.05 0.03

0.02 0.04 0.07 0.00 0.05 0.09 0.13 0.01

20–24

M F T

0.24 0.19 0.15 0.12 0.40 0.31

25–29

M F T

30–34

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0.04 0.04

0.03

0.03

0.03

0.00 0.00

0.03 0.03 0.07 0.06

0.03 0.06

0.03 0.06

0.03 0.06

0.23 0.31 0.69 0.33 0.17 0.28 0.73 0.42 0.40 0.60 1.42 0.75

0.13 0.12 0.25

0.14 0.17 0.09 0.11 0.23 0.28

0.12 0.11 0.23

0.12 0.11 0.22

0.12 0.11 0.23

0.25 0.29 0.14 0.15 0.38 0.44

0.36 0.47 0.79 0.86 0.25 0.36 0.79 0.94 0.61 0.82 1.57 1.80

0.65 0.79 1.44

0.32 0.32 0.43 0.36 0.75 0.69

0.32 0.36 0.67

0.22 0.38 0.60

0.21 0.38 0.59

M F T

0.18 0.23 0.08 0.11 0.26 0.34

0.34 0.45 0.82 0.82 0.18 0.30 0.73 0.86 0.52 0.75 1.55 1.68

0.99 1.16 2.15

0.89 0.54 1.08 0.68 1.97 1.21

0.54 0.59 1.13

0.51 0.57 1.07

0.36 0.59 0.96

35–39

M F T

0.23 0.18 0.08 0.09 0.32 0.28

0.28 0.36 0.66 0.82 0.13 0.20 0.44 0.67 0.41 0.56 1.10 1.49

0.92 0.97 1.89

1.11 1.07 1.26 1.20 2.37 2.27

0.72 0.79 1.51

0.72 0.69 1.41

0.67 0.66 1.33

40–44

M F T

0.16 0.22 0.05 0.09 0.21 0.31

0.20 0.28 0.47 0.62 0.10 0.13 0.29 0.42 0.30 0.41 0.76 1.04

0.87 0.69 1.56

0.97 1.17 0.97 1.25 1.95 2.41

1.15 1.20 2.35

0.81 0.81 1.62

0.81 0.71 1.52

45–49

M F T

0.11 0.17 0.03 0.05 0.14 0.21

0.27 0.20 0.34 0.37 0.10 0.10 0.16 0.24 0.37 0.29 0.50 0.62

0.62 0.40 1.02

0.86 0.96 0.65 0.93 1.52 1.89

1.15 1.20 2.35

1.15 1.17 2.32

0.82 0.79 1.61

50–54

M F T

0.10 0.09 0.03 0.02 0.13 0.11

0.17 0.24 0.24 0.28 0.05 0.10 0.12 0.15 0.22 0.34 0.35 0.43

0.36 0.23 0.59

0.60 0.83 0.38 0.62 0.98 1.46

0.93 0.89 1.82

1.13 1.16 2.28

1.13 1.14 2.27

55–59

M F T

0.09 0.08 0.02 0.02 0.11 0.10

0.10 0.14 0.28 0.20 0.03 0.04 0.10 0.10 0.12 0.19 0.39 0.29

0.27 0.14 0.41

0.34 0.57 0.22 0.36 0.56 0.93

0.80 0.60 1.40

0.90 0.86 1.77

1.10 1.13 2.23

60–64

M F T

0.07 0.08 0.01 0.01 0.09 0.09

0.08 0.08 0.14 0.21 0.02 0.02 0.04 0.09 0.10 0.10 0.19 0.31

0.19 0.09 0.28

0.25 0.33 0.13 0.21 0.39 0.54

0.56 0.34 0.90

0.78 0.58 1.36

0.88 0.84 1.72

65–69

M F T

0.04 0.06 0.01 0.01 0.05 0.06

0.06 0.05 0.06 0.12 0.01 0.01 0.02 0.04 0.07 0.07 0.08 0.17

0.21 0.09 0.30

0.19 0.25 0.09 0.13 0.27 0.38

0.33 0.20 0.53

0.56 0.33 0.89

0.78 0.56 1.34

70–74

M F T

0.03 0.02 0.00 0.00 0.03 0.03

0.05 0.04 0.05 0.05 0.01 0.01 0.01 0.02 0.05 0.05 0.06 0.07

0.13 0.04 0.17

0.22 0.20 0.08 0.08 0.30 0.28

0.27 0.12 0.39

0.35 0.19 0.55

0.58 0.33 0.91

75+

M F T

0.02 0.02 0.00 0.00 0.02 0.03

0.04 0.04 0.06 0.07 0.01 0.01 0.02 0.03 0.04 0.05 0.07 0.10

0.12 0.02 0.14

0.23 0.34 0.04 0.09 0.27 0.43

0.33 0.09 0.43

0.42 0.14 0.55

0.54 0.22 0.76

Total

M F T

1.57 1.65 0.62 0.69 2.19 2.34

2.17 2.70 4.66 4.77 5.47 6.17 6.79 7.26 7.69 8.04 1.10 1.60 3.51 3.98 4.74 5.46 6.05 6.52 7.02 7.48 3.27 4.31 8.17 8.75 10.20 11.62 12.84 13.78 14.71 15.52

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 113 Figure 9

Projected Percentage of Degree-Holders out of Total Population, 1976– 2031, Hong Kong

3.00%

2.50%

2016

2011

2021

2026 2031

2006 2.00%

1976 1981 1986 1991 1996 2001 2006 2011 2016 2021 2026 2031

2001 1996

1.50% 2016

2021

2011 1.00% 2031

1991 1986 1981

0.50%

1986

1976 0.00% age=15–19 20–24

Figure 10

25–29

30–34

35–39

40–44

45–49

50–54

55–59

60–64

65–69

70–74

75+

Public Expenditures on Education as Percentage of GDP and Total Government Expenditure, 2002

25.0% 21.9%

Public Edu Expt % GDP

20.0%

Edu Expt as % of G Spendings

15.5% 15.0% 13.0% 11.4% 10.0%

5.6% 5.0%

4.4%

4.1% 2.2%

0.0% Hong Kong

China

USA

UK

Note: Data from UNESCO Institute for Statistics, available at http://www.uis.unesco.org/ countryprofiles/html/selectCountryProfile_en.aspx

114 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Some Policy Implications Our analysis suggests that Hong Kong’s population will age quickly if Hong Kong’s immigration policy remains unchanged (Figure 1). The proportion of population at age 60 and above will reach 25% in 2021 and 31% in 2031 from today’s 15%. Immigrants from the Mainland will continue to grow. Less educated than the overall population in Hong Kong, these immigrants are unlikely to meet the demand for highly skilled workers in Hong Kong’s service economy. The lack of quality human capital will limit Hong Kong’s growth in the next three decades. We can certainly improve the quality of our labour force by investing more in education. The question is how much more we are willing to spend and how long we are willing to wait. Figure 10 compares public expenditures on education as percentage of GDP and government expenditures, for Hong Kong, China, the US and UK. In 2002, Hong Kong is already spending more than 20% of its government expenditure (or 4.1% of its GDP) on education, more than that of the US and UK. As a percentage of GDP, our public spending on education is comparable. The room for additional public spending on education appears limited.10 There is yet another scenario: what if Hong Kong completely opens up the border with China? Like New York, talents from the Mainland will certainly be attracted to Hong Kong by the economic opportunities. These talents will fuel Hong Kong’s economic growth. However, unless the vast differences in public provisions between Hong Kong and the Mainland are adjusted, it will be difficult to avoid abuses and free-lunch seekers. In contrast, for New York and the rest of the US, the difference in public provisions may be minimal. Indeed, Cushing-Daniels (2004) finds that welfare benefits do not play a signification role in the migration of American households. However, labour market opportunities are important predictors of inter-county movement. In short, a viable immigration policy has to make the border especially open to economic migrants. Such a porous border will allow the market forces to operate. If there is a shortage of a specific kind of skilled workers in Hong Kong and the job pays well, competitive talents may be attracted to Hong Kong. Can there be a change in immigration policy to attract more foreign talents to Hong Kong? There is a keen competition for top talents worldwide. Most developed countries, such as the UK and US, have developed a transparent immigration policy. Recently, immigration restrictions are further lowered for some countries, especially for the UK. To further attract foreign talents to Hong Kong, can we adopt a policy similar to the UK so that foreign talents are granted working permits without employer sponsors?

The Importance of Migration Flow to Hong Kong’s Future 115

Can there be policies that are mutually beneficial to Hong Kong and the Mainland? In tune with the spirit of circulation and revitalizing Hong Kong as “a space of flow” for the import and export of talents, consider marketing education. If Hong Kong brings top students from the Mainland with the hope that a fraction of them will stay after their education, the territory will net some talents at the high end. Their assimilation process relative to other new immigrants will be smooth.11 For those who return to the Mainland, their educational experiences will make them valuable brokers. However, the effectiveness of the educational scheme depends on the scale of operation. To fill the need for talents, it may require 50% of Hong Kong’s intake of the higher education system from the Mainland.12 What about emigration? As described earlier, older, non-working people will move out of New York, presumably to less expensive cities in the United States. In Hong Kong, older people are not moving to nearby cities in China with lower costs of living. One possible explanation is that public provisions enjoyed by the elderly, such as public housing and medical services, are not portable. Will the fast growing Chinese cities overtake Hong Kong?13 These cities are attracting educated workers not only from the rest of China but from Hong Kong as well. If their business and working environments continue to improve with China’s liberalization, and if Hong Kong keeps its usual course in the policies centring on immigration, education and public spending, it is not difficult to predict what lies ahead.

Appendix: Projection This appendix explains how we arrive at the projection of population by education attainment by age group and gender. 1. Probability of advancing to the next level of education level for persons in a specific age and gender group and whether they are native born or new immigrants. We consider our levels of education only (0 = “no schooling and kindergarten”, 1 = “primary and secondary”, 2 = “postsecondary”, 3 = “university or above”). We use the 1996 and 2001 census data to estimate the probability of advancing to the next level of education. For example, consider the native born with age from 15 to 19 in 1996. Suppose 20,000 of them are in “primary and secondary” education in 1996. If none of them is advanced to the next level, we expect there will be 20,000 natives of aged 20 to 24 in 2001 in the “primary and secondary” education category. If 5% of them are advanced to the next level, we will have 19,000 natives aged 20 to 24 in

116 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

2001 in “primary and secondary” and 1,000 would have been advanced to the group of aged 20 to 24 in 2001 in “post-secondary” level. Thus, if we observed the change in the numbers of natives in “primary and secondary” of aged 15 to 19 in 1996 and those aged 20 to 24 in 2001, we can deduce the probability of advancing to the next level of education. The distribution of new immigrants. The 2001 census data is used to compute the distribution (with duration of residence in HK for less then five years) by place of birth, age group, gender and education level. This distribution is assumed to remain the same over time. The number of new immigrants. The Census and Statistics projection of population by age group by gender is used to deduce the number of new immigrants. For instance, suppose there are X females aged 15 to 19 in 2001 and Y females aged 20 to 24 in 2006. We conclude that there are (Y–X) new immigrants aged 20 to 24 in 2006. We have ignored mortality in our calculation and thus do not allow (Y–X) to be negative. When (Y–X) is negative, we say there are zero new immigrants. The number of new-born. The Census and Statistics Department projection of population in the age group 0 to 4 are assumed to be new-born in Hong Kong. We have assumed no immigrants of this age group. They are assumed to have “no schooling or kindergarten”. Projection of new immigrants by age, gender, place of birth and education. Given the new immigrations of specific gender and age group (obtained in step 3), we project their distribution by place of birth and by education level (obtained in step 2). Projection of natives by age, gender and education. Given the native of a specific age group, gender and education level, age is advanced by five years from 2001 to 2006, number of persons remains in the same education level is calculated using the probability of advancing to the next level of education level (obtained in step 1). Distribution of Hong Kong’s population by gender, age group and education level is obtained by adding the projection of new immigrants (step 5) and projection of natives (step 6).

5

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” Helen F. Siu*

Locating “the New Immigrants” As shown in the chapter by Sinn, Hong Kong society has intimate links with Mainland China through decades of border-crossing by their populations. From the census records analyzed by Richard Wong and Kafu Wong, these movements have continued, in ebbs and flows, in the post-war decades. In 1996, almost 40% of Hong Kong’s population was born outside the territory.1 This chapter takes a slice from the census records to examine policies, assumptions, and procedures related to a recent period of in-flow from China, and to assess their impact on Hong Kong’s present and future human landscape. I focus on two waves. First, those who crossed the border to Hong Kong, often illegally, in the late 1970s and early 1980s were labeled as “new immigrants” and treated with scorn by some Hong Kong residents. They found work and were absorbed into Hong Kong society. Many returned to their native places for marriage. In the 1990s, they started to bring to Hong Kong their Mainland spouses and young children, who formed the second wave of newcomers. This wave is also known in popular parlance as “new immigrants” and, since the mid 1990s in official categories, as “new arrivals.” The meaning of the label changed somewhat, from one marking difference in the 1980s, to one hardened against those seen as society’s burden. These two waves of immigrants have posed complicated human resource and social issues for Hong Kong. *

This chapter is written with the invaluable support of Kwok-leung Yu in fieldwork, data collection, and editing. Ka-fu Wong and Ginnie Choi provided much needed technical guidance with quantitative data.

118 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

The language used to define these new arrivals is one-dimensionally administrative. Together with the labels used in popular parlance, they mask complex and changing processes of migration, marital unions, family formation, cross-border networks and manoeuvres. In the spirit of the volume, this chapter uses circulation as a concept to unpack the labels and to examine multi-directional flows of people, goods, and values along a border that hardens and softens. It hopes to address the definitions of a moving target — the Hong Konger, and the strategic engagement of Hong Kong’s present and future citizens.

Hard Issues, Soft Data In the wake of the Second World War and the Communist Revolution in China, Hong Kong saw volatile population movements across its borders for almost a decade. In 1950, however, the Hong Kong government negotiated a quota system with Mainland authorities to control the flow. Hong Kong accepted all Chinese citizens given exit permits from China, and China restricted and regulated these permits. As shown in Figure 1, there has been a steady rise in population, but as shown in Figure 2, the increase was punctuated by volatile inflows and outflows. Post-war decades saw the border harden and soften with major political shifts in China, which greatly affected the way Hong Kong’s human landscape has been shaped. Two historical junctures are significant for understanding the demographic profiles in Hong Kong today. First, during the radical decades of the Maoist revolution when China turned inward and restricted cross-border traffic, a uniquely localized Hong Kong culture and identity emerged with the coming of age of a homegrown generation. As shown by chapters in section three, post-war baby-boomers who constituted the territory’s upwardly mobile middle class were central to the formation of the Hong Kong person or “Hong Konger.”2 Second, in the years from 1978 to 1981 when China began to liberalize its economy and briefly relaxed its border control, some half a million immigrants, mostly illegal, made their way to the territory and were eventually granted residence (see Figure 2). Although Hong Kong was a land of immigrants and emigrants, a new social ethos emerged in the 1980s. It centred on discriminatory stances taken towards this population influx. Those who identified with urban Hong Kong society perceived the newcomers as rural and desperately poor. The media has popularized the image of “Ah Chan,” (a country bumpkin from the Mainland), and “ShengGang qibing” (criminal mercenaries from Guangzhou). As they arrived in overwhelming numbers, symbolizing a

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 119

China reeling from decades of isolation and deprivation, anxious Hong Kongers labelled them as xin yimin (new immigrants) to mark differences in cultural orientation, social status, and economic well-being with earlier

Figure 1 Hong Kong’s Estimated Population, 1948–1996

7000000 6000000 5000000 4000000 3000000 2000000 1000000

1993

1988

1983

1978

1973

1968

1963

1958

1953

1948

0

Source: Reconstructed from Kit Chun Lam and Pak Wai Liu, Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 1998), 10.

Figure 2 Balance of Arrivals and Departures of Immigrants from China

300000

200000 Balance of Arrivals and Departures

100000

–100000

1993

1988

1983

1978

1973

1968

1963

1958

1953

1948

0

Legal Immigrants from China Illegal Immigrants from China

–200000

–300000

Source: Reconstructed from Kit Chun Lam and Pak Wai Liu, Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 1998), 12.

120 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

stocks like themselves.3 Nonetheless, the newcomers were absorbed into Hong Kong’s economy as a work force in infrastructural projects. Some became brokers between Hong Kong and South China. They achieved varying degrees of success, and many returned to their home villages in the late 1980s and early 1990s to have families. Over time, the criteria for granting exit permits from China (the oneway permits) and the number of permits have changed. Entry has been based largely on family reunions (see Table 1). Since the early 1980s, the Chinese government has also granted an unlimited number of two-way permits for holders to visit families or do business in Hong Kong. Many visitors have overstayed these permits. From government statistical profiles to media images, the visitors and new immigrants appear to be poor, dependent women with few marketable skills and burdened by young children. They are the spouses of several categories of Hong Kong residents — mainly the cohort of illegal immigrants who were given residence in the early 1980s and older working men who have increasingly looked across the border for affordable wives.4 Many of their children, born in the late 1980s to mid 1990s, are waiting for one-way permits to settle in Hong Kong. On arrival, they are cramped in slum housing in the old districts of Kowloon and in the less desirable towns in the New Territories (see Table 2). Social workers maintain that this cohort of new arrivals has few personal support networks. They speak neither city Cantonese nor English; the children have difficulty in schools; age differences between husbands and wives are often significant, adding to marital pressures. Until a few years ago, families were often “split” and made unstable by bureaucratic barriers and corruption in China.5 Single parents had to quit their jobs and applied for public assistance. Family tragedies involving the new arrivals have been sensationalized in the popular media, but public sentiment towards them is not sympathetic. Government and social service organizations have put tremendous efforts into providing support, but the new immigrant families they have targeted appear to continue to face poverty and discrimination.6 At the same time, Hong Kong residents have taken for granted the astronomical growth in the traffic of people, goods, services, and cultural images between Hong Kong and the Mainland. Increasingly, they retune themselves “to go north.” The movement of factories into China has been followed closely by technical support offices and eager consumers. Professionals and shoppers have joined businessmen, small factory owners, contractors, transport workers, and school children to become regular commuters. The real estate markets in Shenzhen and the Pearl River delta cater to families from Hong Kong who are looking for affordable holiday or retirement homes. Daily commuter traffic has long blurred the border.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 121 Table 1 History of One-Way Permit Quota Date

Quota

Before 1950

Nil

Free entry and exit.

Remarks

1950

150

The Hong Kong government set up a quota system to impose a restriction on people of Chinese origin from the Mainland, except for those from Guangdong Province, coming to settle in Hong Kong in accordance with the Immigration Control Ordinance. However, without the approval and cooperation of the Chinese government, this new measure could not be effectively implemented. Subsequent to the discussion between the Chinese and British governments, China eventually limited the number of one-way permits to 150 per day.

1978

150

Although the quota was limited to 150, the number of Chinese citizens being granted one-way permits to settle in Hong Kong was increased to 310 per day.

1980

150

The Chinese government again limited the number of one-way permits to settle in Hong Kong to 150.

1983

75

Consequent upon the discussion between the Chinese and British governments, the number of one-way permits was reduced to 75 per day.

1993

75

No quota set for specific categories, basically 21 one-way permits were allotted to children.

November 105 1993

The quota for one-way permits was increased by 30 from 75 to 105 per day. The increased quota was evenly distributed among the children of Hong Kong permanent residents who were born on the Mainland and spouses who had been separated for more than 10 years.

July 1995

150

The number of one-way permits was increased by 45 to 150 per day. 30 of the newly added permits were allotted to children of Hong Kong citizens who had the right of abode in Hong Kong after 1997. (During the first year of implementation, 15 were allotted to qualified children aged 0–5 and 15 to children aged 16–20). The remaining 15 were allotted to spouses who had been separated for more than 10 years.

July 1996

150

The age limit for children was relaxed to allow applications from children aged 6–15 who had the right of abode in Hong Kong after 1997. After the relaxation, 45 permits were allotted to children of Hong Kong permanent residents who had the right of abode in Hong Kong after 1997; 30 to spouses who had been separated for more than 10 years, and 75 without specific categories.

December 150 1996

On top of the 45-children quota, a 21 floating-children quota were added, making it a total of 66 children quota. But the quota of one-way permits remained 150 per day.

July 1997

150

Hong Kong requested to increase the children quota to 90, but the Chinese government did not accede to the request.

September 150 1997

A 45-children quota and 30-spouse quota were set aside for Guangdong Province. As a result, the total number of one-way permits granted to the Province was increased from 104 to 108.25, 33.25 of which were nonspecific permits.

Source: Translated from One Country, Two Systems Research Institute, Neidi jumin yiju Xianggang zhengce xianhuan de jiantao ji zhengce jianyi, 4.

122 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 2 Proportion of PMR*s by District Council District, 2001

Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

District Council District Yau Tsim Mong Sham Shui Po Kowloon City Kwun Tong North Kwai Tsing Tsuen Wan Wong Tai Sin Yuen Long Sai Kung Central and Western Eastern Tuen Mun Tai Po Sha Tin Wan Chai Southern Islands

Proportion of PMRs 7.90% 7.30% 4.80% 4.80% 4.70% 4.50% 4.30% 4.10% 4.10% 3.30% 3.10% 3.00% 3.00% 2.70% 2.70% 2.60% 2.00% 1.90%

Source: Census and Statistics Department, 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years (HKSAR: Census and Statistics Department, 2002), 51. * PMR (Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years)

But “the new immigrant” label has remained in the minds of many Hong Kong residents. With a sensationalized media, public attention has focused on the worst cases of family abuse and poverty among those on welfare. Public sentiment flared, understandably in years of economic downturn and political uncertainty. Debates on the right of abode issue and reactions to an arson attack on an immigration office in 2000 revealed the depth of local hostility towards this wave of new arrivals. Today, the negative attitudes held by the public reflect their views of the immigrants as not only different but also a real and growing social burden. An insecure middle class, caught in the painful structural transformation of the economy since 1997, is anxious about where Hong Kong is headed. What are the complex profiles and processes beneath the “new immigrants” label? After the signing of the Sino-British Joint Declaration on Hong Kong in 1984, the Chinese government issued regulations that defined who was eligible for immigration to Hong Kong then and in future. Four out of the five categories were related to family reunion. The implementation of these regulations, however, was “poorly co-ordinated, inefficiently managed, and executed without transparency, consistency, or accountability,” causing much anguish for the families concerned, breeding corruption and desperate maneuvers.7

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 123

In April 1990, the Basic Law was passed. The ambiguity of the language in Article 24 of the Basic Law relating to the right of abode of Mainlandborn children of Hong Kong residents created space for further contestation. It triggered waves of illegal immigration. Pregnant mothers overstayed their permits in order to have their children born in Hong Kong. Some parents attempted to smuggle children into Hong Kong under rumours of amnesty. The intervention of the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress in interpreting the Basic Law in 1999 put the controversy to rest. Eligibility for permanent residency for Mainland-born children of Hong Kong residents became more restricted (i.e. one parent must be a permanent resident of Hong Kong at the time of the child’s birth) and the granting of one-way permits by Chinese authorities remained firmly in place. Even if the children have a certificate of entitlement for the right of abode from the Hong Kong government, they have to wait in China for one-way permits. The twists and turns of policies and the related contestations posed serious implications for the territory’s human landscape and the emotions attached to it.

Social Profiles of “the New Immigrants” Census data (1981, 1991, 1996) show that each cohort of immigrants from the Mainland reflects shifts in policies. These cohorts carried with them particular characteristics and historical, political baggage. They have distinct social and economic profiles.8 First, Mainland immigrants are largely from Guangdong Province, followed by those from Fujian. However, compared with 1981, by 1996 those from Guangdong increased proportionately compared to those from other provinces (see Figure 3). Next, although the number of legal immigrants was steady over the years, there was a large influx of illegal immigrants during the years between 1978 and 1981 (close to 400,000; see Figure 2). This cohort of illegal immigrants had different social profiles than the other waves: they were predominantly rural, young, and male. Their ability to use city Cantonese was below that of the general population (84% vs. 98%). In the 1981 census, this cohort was marked as “recent immigrants,” but was listed as “earlier immigrants” in the 1991 census. Although less educated and unskilled compared to those who came in the 1990s, these “earlier” and largely illegal immigrants had higher labour participation rates (see Table 3). The more recent cohorts, those who settled in Hong Kong from the late 1980s to mid-1990s,9 were mostly Mainland spouses and children of three groups of Hong Kong residents — working men who had married in

124 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

China in the 1960s and 1970s, illegal immigrants who came between 1978 and 1981 and who returned to China to marry after they had settled in Hong Kong. Other older working men likewise increasingly looked to China for affordable wives who added to the inflow.10 The 1991 census shows that 95,000 Hong Kong residents (93% are men) had spouses on the Mainland. Over 40% of the men were 50 years of age and over. These Hong Kong residents had 310,200 children, 41.7% of these children over 30 years old.11 The quotas for one-way permits were adjusted several times on the advice of the Hong Kong government to facilitate family reunion. In 1995 and 1996, the largest number of applicants waited between one to three years, although the spread of the wait was wide, indicating a great deal of irregularities.12 Finally, intertwined with the demographic data are social class issues. The One Country, Two Systems Research Institute has produced three thematic studies (1991, 1997, 1999) on Hong Kong residents with spouses in China, which highlight a progressive trend of Hong Kong residents taking Mainland spouses (see Figures 4 and 5). Compared to the general Hong Kong population, these residents have lower education attainments, and are predominantly engaged in the manufacturing sector and in jobs requiring physical labour (see Figures 6, 7a, 7b, 8a, 8b). Special Topics Report No. 22 conducted between March and May 1999 by the Hong Kong government on the number of Mainland children born of Hong Kong residents shows similar trends. There was an estimated 209,400 Hong Kong residents with 286,300 Mainland children among them; 70% of the children were 20 years of age and older. The findings also revealed a surprising figure — children born outside of registered unions with Hong Kong residents were estimated to be 505,000. Although the study was concerned more with the eligibility for immigration than with actual applications, it confirmed that with the progressive liberalizing of the Mainland’s economy, marriage, and family activities between Hong Kong and China intensified, forming a complicated social landscape that spanned both sides of the border. The children of the 1978–1981 cohort of illegal immigrants were younger, and the number was growing in the 1990s. In fact, immediately after July 1997, when the issue of the right of abode for Mainland-born children of Hong Kong permanent residents heated up again, the Immigration Department estimated a total of 35,000 children waiting for one-way permits. Subsequently the department revised it upward to 66,000, 60% of these children were between the age of 6 and 15. Lam and Liu, using application data of Mainland children from Guangdong alone, estimated the number above 66,000. On the basis of daily entry quotas assigned to Guangdong children at the time, the wait could be as long as six and a half years.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 125

A further study gives the family status of the 452,000 persons who came to Hong Kong by obtaining one-way permits between 1991 and 2000: 92% of them were spouses (93.9% wives) and children of Hong Kong residents (see Figure 9a, 9b). Further, from 1991 to 2001, the percentage of recent immigrants in Hong Kong (i.e., those who have not resided in Hong Kong for more than seven years) jumped from 2.6% to 4%, totalling 266,577 persons (see Figure 10). From a human resources point of view, this cohort of women and children who settled in Hong Kong in the 1990s had lower education, older husbands, and more children than comparable age groups in the native population. They also had lower labour participation rates (44.2% vs. 61.4%) (see Tables 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9a, 9b). The percentage using Cantonese dropped further to 52.8% (in the 1991 census), and 56.7% (in the 1996 census). It rose to 72.3% (in the 2001 census), still lower than the 89.2% of the native population. Those who worked continued to fill low-paying unskilled jobs at the bottom of the economic hierarchy. Their median domestic household income, based on the three censuses, was systematically lower than the native population.13 Their spouses, many of whom are linked to a disappearing manufacturing sector, face structural unemployment. From statistical profiles, the picture looks grim for this cohort when compared to the circumstances of the locally born Hong Kongers.

Figure 3 Provincial Origins of Legal Immigrants from China, 1991–1996

60000

50000 Unknown

40000

Others Shanghai

30000

Hainan Fujian

20000

Guangdong

10000

0

1991

1992

1993

1994

1995

1996

Source: Reconstructed from Kit Chun Lam and Pak Wai Liu, Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 1998), 28.

126 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Figure 4 Number of Residents with Spouses in China

250000

200000

150000

100000

50000

0 1991

1996

1999

Sources: Reconstructed from Special Topics Report No. 8 (1991), Special Topics Report No. 15 (1996) & Special Topics Report No. 22 (1999), Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong.

Figure 5 Average Number of Cross-Border Marriages per Year

9000 8000 7000 6000 5000 4000 3000 2000 1000 0 1986–1990

1991–1995

1996–1999 (Mar–May)

Sources: Reconstructed from Special Topics Report No. 8 (1991), Special Topics Report No. 15 (1996) & Special Topics Report No. 22 (1999), Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 127 Figure 6

Education Levels of Hong Kongers with Spouses in China and the General Hong Kong Population

60.0% Hong Kong residents married in Mainland China with spouse still living there

50.0% 40.0%

Hong Kong population aged 15 and over

30.0% 20.0% 10.0% 0.0% no schooling/kindergarten

primary

secondary/matriculation

non-degree

degree

Sources: Reconstructed from (1) Special Topics Report No. 8 (1991) & Special Topics Report No. 15 (1996), Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong. (2) Hong Kong ByCensus, 1996, Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong.

Figure 7a

Total Employment by Sector of Hong Kong Residents Married in Mainland China with Spouses Still Living There, 1996

Others, 0.7 Manufacturing, 19.5 Other services, 23.3

Wholesale, retail and import/export trades, restaurants and hotels, 32

Construction, 24.5

Source: (1) Reconstructed from Special Topics Report No. 8 (1991) & Special Topics Report No. 15 (1996), Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong. (2) Reconstructed from Hong Kong By-Census, 1996, Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong. Note: # Other service sectors include the transport, storage, and communication industries, the finance, insurance, real estate, and business services industries, and the community, social and personal services industries.

128 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Figure 7b Total Employment by Sector of Hong Kong, 1996 Others, 1.5 Manufacturing, 18.9 Other services, 46.6

Construction, 8.1

Wholesale, retail and import/export trades, restaurants and hotels, 24.9

Source: (1) Reconstructed from Special Topics Report No. 8 (1991) & Special Topics Report No. 15 (1996), Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong. (2) Reconstructed from Hong Kong By-Census, 1996, Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong. Note: # Other service sectors include the transport, storage and communication industries, the finance, insurance, real estate, and business services industries, and the community, social, and personal services industries.

Figure 8a

Employment by Job Description: Hong Kong Residents Married in Mainland China with Spouses Still Living There, 1996 Others, 0.7

Elementary occupations, 25.7

Managers, administrators, professionals, and associate professionals, 13 Clerks, 6.7

Service workers and shop sales workers, 15.6

Plant and machine operators and assemblers, 11.2

Craft and related workers, 27.1

Source: Reconstructed from Special Topics Report No. 15 (1996), Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 129 Figure 8b Employment by Job Description: Total Employed Population of Hong Kong, 1996 Others, 0.8 Elementary occupations, 18.6

Managers, administrators, professionals, and associate professionals, 29.2

Plant and machine operators and assemblers, 8.5

Craft and related workers, 12.3 Clerks, 16.8

Service workers and shop sales workers, 13.8

Source: Reconstructed from Special Topics Report No. 15 (1996), Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong.

Figure 9a

Categories of Persons Who Came to Hong Kong by Obtaining One-Way Permits, 1991–2000

60000

50000

40000

Others Husband Wife

30000

Children 20000

10000

0 1991

1992

1993

1994

1995

1996

1997

1998

1999

2000

Source: Reconstructed from the One Country, Two System Research Institute, Neidi jumin yiju Xianggang zhengce xianhuan de jiantao ji zhengce jianyi, 64.

130 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Figure 9b Total Number of Persons Who Came to Hong Kong by Obtaining One-Way Permits, 1991–2000 Others, 24230 Husband, 12028

Children, 231775 Wife, 183930

Source: Reconstructed from One Country, Two Systems Research Institute, Neidi jumin yiju Xianggang zhengce xianhuan de jiantao ji zhengce jianyi, 64.

Figure 10

Number of PMRs as Percentage of the Whole Population, 1991, 1996, 2001 Number

Proportion (%) 5

450,000 400,000

4.0

350,000 300,000 2.6

250,000 200,000

4

266,577 2.7

3

169,319 143,944

2

150,000 100,000

1

50,000 0

0

1991 Number of PMRs

Average Annual Growth Rate (%) 1991–1996 1996–2001 1991–2001

PMRs 3.3 9.5 6.4

Whole Population 1.8 +0.9 (1) +1.7 (2)

1996

2001

Proportion of PMRs to the whole population

Source: 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 14.

Note: (1) The figures are complied based on the Hong Kong resident population. (2) The figures refer to residents present in Hong Kong at the census moment, including those who were temporarily away from Hong Kong. The population figure compiled on this basis at the 1991 census was 5,674,114.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 131 Table 3

Labour Force Participation Rate (15–64 Age Group) Natives (%)

Earlier Immigrants (%)

1981

1991

1996

All Male Female

66.5 77.4 55.7

72.8 84.2 61.1

70.4 84.8 61.1

All Male Female

33.5 22.6 44.3

27.2 15.8 38.9

27.2 15.8 40.6

1981

1991

1996

Recent Immigrants (%) 1981

1991

1996

65.2 83.2 43.1

85.3 95.8 69.9

66.3 82.7 58.0

61.0 82.3 48.4

34.8 16.8 56.9

14.7 4.2 30.1

33.6 17.3 42.0

39.0 17.7 51.6

Labour force participation 63.8 85.6 40.2

66.3 85.7 41.9

Economically inactive 36.2 14.4 59.8

33.7 14.3 58.1

Source: Kit Chun Lam and Pak Wai Liu, Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 1998), 50.

Table 4

Proportion of PMRs Aged 5 and Older Able to Speak Selected Language/ Dialects, 2001 PMRs Aged 5 and Older (1)

First Language Language/Dialect /Dialect

Whole Population Aged 5 and Older (1)

Second Language /DIalect

First Second Language Language /Dialect /Dialect

Overall

23.2

95.5

89.2

6.8

96.1

47

49.4

0.9

33.3

34.1

Overall

Cantonese

72.3

Putonghua

2.4

Hakka

8

7.3

15.3

1.3

3.8

5.1

Fukien (including Taiwanese)

5.2

3.1

8.3

1.7

2.3

3.9

Chiu Chau

3.5

3.4

7

1

3.8

4.8

Sze Yap

2.8

2.2

5

0.3

0.9

1.2

Shanghainese

0.6

0.8

1.4

0.4

1.1

1.5

Other Chinese dialects

5

5.5

10.5

0.8

2.1

2.9

English

0.1

13.8

13.9

3.2

39.8

Others

0.1

0.5

0.6

1.2

6

43 7.2

Source: 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 23. Note: (1) The figures exclude mute persons.

132 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 5 Proportion of PMRs Aged 15 and Older by Gender and Educational Attainment (Highest Level Attended), 1991, 1996, 2001 Proportion of Population Aged 15 and Older Education Attainment (Highest Level Attended)

Year

Gender

No schooling/ Kindergarten Primary

Upper Lower Secondary/ Secondary Matriculation (1) Tertiary

PMRs 1991

Male Female Both sexes

3.3 13.7 10.3

18 27.2 24.2

37.4 30.6 32.8

28.4 23.3 24.9

13 5.3 7.8

1996

Male Female Both sexes

2.4 8.2 6.4

17 26.7 23.7

35.4 31.4 32.6

28.6 25.8 26.6

16.7 8 10.7

2001

Male Female Both sexes

1.5 8.3 6.7

12.6 29.2 25.3

46 36 38.4

30.6 21.9 23.9

9.3 4.6 5.7

1991

Male Female Both sexes

7.1 18.5 12.8

26 24.3 25.2

22.9 15.4 19.2

31 32.4 31.7

13 9.4 11.2

1996

Male Female Both sexes

5.1 13.8 9.5

22.7 22.6 22.6

22.7 15.2 18.9

32.5 35.1 33.8

17.1 13.3 15.2

2001

Male Female Both sexes

4.6 12 8.4

20.4 20.6 20.5

22.5 15.6 18.9

34.8 36.7 35.8

17.8 15.1 16.4

Whole population

Source: 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 26. Note: (1) The figures include the equivalent educational attainment (highest level attended) of “technician level” in the 1996 population by-census and “diploma/certificate courses in institutes of vocational education/former polytechnics” in the 2001 population census. However, this similar group “diploma/certificate courses in technical institutes/ polytechnics” was included under “tertiary: non-degree course” in the 1991 population census.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 133 Table 6 PMRs in the Labour Force by Gender, 1991, 1996, 2001 1991

Sex

Labour Force

1996

Labour Non Force Labour Participation Force Rate (%)

2001

Labour Non Force Labour Participation Force Rate (%)

Labour Force

Labour Force

Labour Non Force Labour Participation Force Rate (%)

PMRs aged 15 and older Male Female Both sexes

26,712 38,779 65,491

8,251 33,854 42,105

76.4 53.4 60.9

Male 1,742,271 470,676 Female 1,068,731 1,088,687 Both 2,811,002 1,559,363 sexes

78.7 49.5 64.3

27,812 37,416 65,228

9,543 45,453 54,996

74.5 45.2 54.3

22,546 54,022 76,568

17,718 78,926 96,644

56 40.6 44.2

1,948,976 762,011 1,489,016 1,398,969 3,437,992 2,160,980

71.9 51.6 61.4

Whole Population aged 15 and older 1,925,095 586,759 1,257,402 1,297,262 3,182,497 1,884,021

76.6 49.2 62.8

Source: 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 30.

Table 7 Proportion of Working PMRs Aged 15 and Older by Occupation, 1991, 1996, 2001 Proportion of Working Population (%) 1991 Occupation Managers and administrators

1996

2001

Whole Whole Whole PMRs Population PMRs Population PMRs Population 4.9

9.2

8.5

12.1

3

10.7

Professionals

0.9

3.7

1.8

5

0.9

5.5

Associate professionals

3.2

10.3

5.2

12.1

4.1

15.3

Clerks

10.3

15.9

13.5

16.8

10.9

16.3

Service workers and shop sales workers

15.2

13.2

22

13.8

30.7

15

Craft and related workers

15.7

14.7

14.7

12.3

11

Plant and machine operators and assemblers

24

13.5

8.3

8.5

4.1

7.3

Elementary occupations

25.4

18.6

25.3

18.6

34.9

19.5

0.5

1

0.7

0.8

0.3

0.3

Skilled agricultural and fishery workers; and occupations not classifiable Overall

100

100

100

100

100

9.9

100

Source: 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 33.

134 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 8 Proportion of Working PMRs Aged 15 and Older by Industry, 1991, 1996, 2001 Proportion of Working Population (%) 1991

1996

2001

Whole Whole Whole PMRs Population PMRs Population PMRs Population

Industry Manufacturing

48

28.2

25.3

18.9

10.4

12.3

5.4

6.9

7.8

8.1

11.7

7.6

31.2

22.5

42.9

24.9

51.9

26.2

Transport, storage, and communications

3.4

9.8

5.4

10.9

4

11.3

Finance, insurance, real estate, and business services

3.4

10.6

6.9

13.4

5

16.1

Community, social, and personal services

7.6

19.9

10.8

22.3

16.2

25.5

Others (1)

1

2.1

0.8

1.5

0.7

1

Construction Wholesale, retail and import/export trades, restaurants, and hotels

Overall

100

100

100

100

100

100

Source: 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 34. Note: (1) “Others” include such industries as “agriculture and fishing,” “mining and quarrying,” “electricity, gas, and water,” and industrial activities inadequately described or unclassifiable.

Table 9a Proportion of Working PMRs Aged 15 and Older by Monthly Income (from Main Employment, 1991, 1996, 2001) Proportion of Working Population (%) 1991 1996

2001

Monthly Income from Main Employment (HK$)

PMRs

Whole Population

PMRs

Whole Population

PMRs

0–5,999 6,000–9,999 +10,000 Overall

86.7 10.4 2.9 100

57.2 25.5 17.3 100

40.9 38.1 21 100

20.4 31.7 47.9 100

43.3 40.2 16.5 100

18.7 24.5 56.8 100

Median monthly income from main employment (HK$) 3,600

5,170

6,500

9,500

6,000

10,000

Whole Population

Source: Reconstructed from 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 35.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 135 Table 9b Median Monthly Domestic Household Income of Domestic Households with PMRs and All Domestic Household, 1991, 1996, 2001 HK$ 21,000

14,000

7,000

0 1991

Domestic Households with PMRs

1996

2001

All Domestic Households

Source: 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, Census and Statistics Department (November 2002), 40.

Beyond Census Data Regional Mapping Most Hong Kongers identify the new immigrants as “rural.” This is a historical baggage from China where, in the Maoist era, farmers were administratively and physically confined to village collective economies with few opportunities for social mobility. In the post-reform era, the number of the “floating population” in China reached upwards of 120 million in 2002 and changed the social landscape of China’s coastal cities. Yet they are intensely discriminated against by urbanites to the point that the central government has repeatedly intervened with policies and campaigns.14 Such historical baggage does not make the new arrivals’ adjustment to urban Hong Kong any easier. Although many are working and productive, they are often labeled as “new immigrants” due to their rural ways and accents, and have faced considerable hostility from the locally born. Beneath their categorical “rurality” there is in fact considerable difference in life circumstances. In my field trips to Guangdong and Fujian, I have been struck by the resourcefulness of some communities and the paralysis in others. As the two provinces have been the native places of the

136 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

bulk of Hong Kong’s new immigrants, a more discerning cultural mapping of these communities will clarify the migrants’ predicaments. From the fact that Hong Kong media is readily accessible in certain parts of Southern China in the post-Mao era, immigrants who have come from the regional core of the Pearl River delta (municipalities such as Guangzhou, Foshan, Nanhai, Panyu, Zhongshan, Shunde, part of Dongguan) have long been exposed to mainstream Hong Kong life.15 There have also been a diverse history of migration and renewed business traffic. Their relatives in Hong Kong are established, and they have little language barrier with city Cantonese. Those from Fujian might have greater difficulty adjusting to the Cantonese culture of Hong Kong society, but they are networked with fellow Fujianese who have established mutual aid resources.16 Those from the eastern and western edges of the delta (municipalities such as Taishan, Kaiping, Xinhui, Jiangmen, Huizhou, Huiyang, Shanwei, Heyuan, Qingyuan) have fewer networks. Many came in the 1978 to 1991 period as illegal immigrants from the poorest and the most rural part of Guangdong — areas that speak Hakka, Hokklo, and the Sze Yap dialects. Their life experiences have been rural. What is the regional spread among the new immigrants to Hong Kong, and what might have been their varied adjustment to mainstream Hong Kong life? My team tries to supplement census data with micro ethnographic information through interviews with government units, NGOs, and social workers in Hong Kong and China.17 These front-line organizations are in close touch with new arrivals at various stages of their emigration/ immigration process and are keen observers of the new arrivals’ changing profiles. Moreover, from January 2001 on, my team has been able to collect data on the 150 daily quota given entry from Guangdong and Fujian, published in Wenhui Bao (Hong Kong). By June 2004, we obtained information on 126,329 cases. Wenhui Bao lists nine reasons for entry (see Table 10). As expected, the largest numbers granted one-way permits continue to be spouses and children. However, an interesting observation is the regional clustering of the recent new arrivals. Figure 11 and Table 11 show that they have come from three groups of municipalities. First, older children and spouses have come from pre-1949 commercial centres with a history of diasporic movements (Guangzhou, Foshan, Jiangmen [Sze Yap]). Second, younger children and spouses are from new municipalities at the rural margins of the Pearl River delta that have been the source of different waves of illegal immigrants (Huizhou, Shanwei, Heyuan, Qingyuan, part of Dongguan, Shenzhen [Baoan] and coastal Jiangmen). Third, since 1997, they have also come from prosperous new municipalities that cater to global manufacturing (Shenzhen, Dongguan).

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 137

If one matches the regional clusters with the general economic standing of Guangdong’s municipalities (measured by per capita income, level of education, and degree of urbanization), the picture suggests that the new arrivals (except for the post-1997 cohort) have come from the provincial margins. 18 A clear regional mapping of the source of emigration and immigration has advantages because it allows us to go beyond essentializing labels and to understand the predicaments of the new arrivals in more precise contexts should the government choose to target the newcomers before they arrive in Hong Kong or to strengthen their regional networks after they arrive (Table 12). Table 10 Number of One-Way Permits Issued for Guangdong and Fujian (01 January 2001–30 June 2004) Reason of approval 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Male

Spousal reunion 3,055 Care for elderly parents who have no one for 2,897 support Elderly persons who need the care of relatives 309 in Hong Kong Young children who need the care of relatives 4,123 in Hong Kong Persons inheriting properties 0 Children of Hong Kong permanent residents 23,129 Young children who come with their parents 4,105 Care for elderly relatives 149 Adopted children 2 Grand Total

37,769

Female Missing Sex

Total

46,573 1,195

3,945 0

53,573 4,092

1,190

21

1,520

4,923

194

9,240

1 26,030 3,796 74 3

0 39 576 0 0

1 49,198 8,477 223 5

83,785

4,775

126,329

Source: Reconstructed from Wenhui Bao (01 January 2001–30 June 2004).

Figure 11 Spousal Reunions, by Time of Marriage and Native Place, 1970–2004 7000 6000 5000 4000

2000–04 1990–99

3000

1980–89 1970–79

2000 1000 0

Chaozhou

Yangiiang

Zhuhai

Jieyang

Shantou

Yunfu

Zhongshan

Heyuan

Maoming

Shaoguan

Zhanjiang

Qingyuan

Zhaoqing

Meizhou

Shanwei

Dongguan

Foshan

Huizhou

Shenzhen

Jiangmen

Guangzhou

Source: Reconstructed from Wenhui Bao (01 January 2001–30 June 2004).

Table 11

Children of Permanent Hong Kong Residents and Children Who Came with a Parent

佛山市 Foshan

深圳市 Shenzhen

江門市 Jiangmen

Age

302 1,180

36–40 2,209

87

393 6

54

98

208

214

132

12

263

602

597

374

97

54

9

78

174

246

253

60

133

5

79

199

178

129

46

44

124

2

7

11

17

3

4

25

101

31

44

5

22

86 29

97

161 154

152 145

43

66

154 103

143 169

46

78

82

43

5

10

46

169

Source: Compiled from Wenhui Bao (01 January 2001–30 June 2004).

936

4

52

608

428

258

65

411

354

433

Overall 12,054 5,925 5,751 5,737 4,581 3,910 2,951 2,907 1,622 1,312 1,145 942

20

468

130

314

304

136

143

183

229

0

11

78

939

177

325

389 1,213

566

3

28

687 1,321

31–35 2,434

46–50

663

26–30 1,946

750

227

484

21–25

191

499

290 1,047

16–20

41–45

惠州市 Huizhou

500

廣州市 Guangzhou

700

汕尾市 Shanwei

970

肇慶市 Zhaoqing

11–15

東莞市 Dongguan

320

梅州市 Meizhou

672 1,056

河源市 Heyuan

469 1,487

中山市 Zhongshan

1,321 1,146

汕頭市 Shantou

6–10

清遠市 Qingyuan

0

2

3

7

9

7

5

47

897 765

11

69

115

92

95

37

23

73

119 136

263 549

雲浮市 Yunfu

457

茂名市 Maoming

313 167

4

5

11

14

12

8

40

2

10

20

10

3

0

10

30

73

611 606 596

3

10

14

14

10

3

24

49 145

143 181

341 186 438

湛江市 Zhanjiang

709

揭陽市 Jieyang

589

韶關市 Shaoguan

449 1,034

595

4

5

40

60

39

18

32

65

91

241

珠海市 Zhuhai

518

263

1

1

4

7

3

1

8

26

67

145

陽江市 Yangjiang

696 1,938 1,538

221

2,426

5,986

7,036

5,599

1,586

2,592

6,116

9,004

100 54,206

4

5

5

5

5

5

5

7

14

45 13,640

潮州市 Chaozhou

1,413 1,611

Overall

0–5

138 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 139 Table 12 General Features of Guangdong’s Municipalities, 1990 Nonagricultural population

Shenzhen Guangzhou Zhuhai Foshan Shaoguan Zhongshan Jiangmen Dongguan Huizhou Chaozhou Zhanjiang Zhaoqing Meizhou Maoming Shantou Yangjiang Shanwei Qingyuan Heyuan

Per capita national income

Educational attainment #

Composite

%

Ranking

(Yuan)

Ranking

%

Ranking

Ranking

62.6 57.5 43.6 34.9 30.3 24.3 26.5 23.4 23.6 23.7 18.2 15.2 14.4 12.2 18.8 18.5 20.6 14.9 13.1

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 9 8 14 15 17 19 12 13 11 16 18

4,785 3,721 3,740 4,109 1,620 3,511 2,222 4,078 1,768 1,563 1,515 1,517 858 1,238 1,130 1,172 889 1,126 715

1 5 4 2 9 6 7 3 8 10 12 11 18 13 15 14 17 16 19

25.5 26.9 19.9 12.2 13.4 9.8 11.9 8.6 9.6 8.8 11.1 9.5 13.0 9.7 8.3 7.9 5.3 7.9 8.5

2 1 3 6 4 9 7 14 11 13 8 12 5 10 16 18 19 17 15

1 2 3 4 5 6 6 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Note: # The percentage of population, aged 6 or older, in each municipality, who have attained high school or tertiary education. Source: Compiled from (1) Guangdongsheng tongji ju ed., Guangdong nianjian (1991) (Beijing: Zhongguo tongji chubanshe, 1991). (2) Guangdong sheng renkoupucha bangongshi ed., Guangdongsheng 1990 nian renkoupucha ziliao (dianziji suan ji huizong) (Beijing: Zhonggno tongji chubanshe, 1992).

Post-1997 “New Immigrants” Data from Wenhui Bao also highlights a large cluster of immigrants who, in the late 1990s, came to Hong Kong from Guangdong’s five most commercialized, industrialized, and urbanized municipalities (Guangzhou, Foshan, Shenzhen, Jiangmen, Huizhou). Many have stayed for years as construction and skilled factory workers, producing textiles, light industrial goods, and high-tech equipment for the global market. Some have entered the booming service industries. They are exposed not only to the Hong Kong media, but also to a wide range of commuters from Hong Kong who have decided “to move north.”19 In 2003, 238,200 Hong Kongers were working in China, mostly in Guangdong (88%), in a variety of professional, manufacturing, sales, and

140 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

service positions.20 Marriages between them and the migrant workers have meant that the new wave of spouses from China are more urban-based with factory work experiences, are resourceful, and networked. Staff of front-line organizations observe that their clients belonging to this new cohort have come from a variety of provinces, have visited Hong Kong numerous times, have acquired city Cantonese, and have jobs and homes in China that they are not entirely willing to give up. The 2006 Population By-Census, published by the Hong Kong SAR Government in February 2007 shows a clear statistical trend on the increase in cross-border unions. From the age and economic circumstances of the marriage partners, these marriages are distinctly different from those forged a decade before. In 1996, out of 60,000 registered marriages by Hong Kong men, 24,000 involved Mainland brides, out of which 2,200 were registered in Hong Kong. In 2006, the number of Mainland brides jumped to 28,000 out of 60,000 registered marriages. 18,000 were registered in Hong Kong. While 700 cases continue to involve men 50 years and older, the median age for men in these cross-border marriages was 38.7 and for women 28.5 years. An interesting observation is that the number of Hong Kong women marrying men in the Mainland jumped 2.5 times in the ten years between 1996 and 2006 whereas that for men increased 14%.21

Looking Ahead China is changing at a pace beyond imagination. One would only expect an increasingly mobile population between Hong Kong and China in the next two decades. With a broadening CEPA (Closer Economic Partnership Agreement) and plans for an integrated Pan Pearl River delta, the crossborder commuters will no longer just be working families from Dongguan’s factories. They may very well be junior managers and technical staff who have professional spouses in Hong Kong and China’s cities. Their family composition, values, career outlook, and consumption behaviour will be quite different from those of the new arrivals in the 1990s and those we see today. The blurring of boundaries is achieved not only by the flow of capital and goods, but also by the traffic in cultural meanings carried by immigrants, emigrants, commuters, and cross-border consumers. The chapter by Eric Ma shows such traffic in the cross-border creative industries and impact on life styles. Increasingly, when one goes to the Pearl River delta and Guangzhou, one experiences mega-stores operated by global businesses. As early as 2001, I attended the grand opening of a Park ’n Shop store in

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 141

Guangzhou. It was revealing with regard to culture change in daily life. I watched waves of local customers who eagerly came and went through the supermarket. In the morning there were the grannies with their grandchildren. By lunch-time came the office crowd. In the late afternoon, I saw couples getting household supplies on the way home via the subway. These shops with their soaring business strategically cater to a wide range of families. The customers take with them not only groceries but ideas that the shops promote: healthy and clean environment, high tech management, good service, and unprecedented choices. They are offered regional foods, Japanese sushi, French wines, and English cheeses. With consumption come new cultural values, family styles, tastes, and aspirations. Today in Guangzhou, no one will question that McDonald’s is fast food, and Starbuck and Ikea are in vogue among the young. One can foresee that when these customers come to Hong Kong to visit or to settle, they will not fit the image of “new immigrant families” that has dominated the public mind in the last decade. The question is whether policy thinking on human resources appreciates these new realities on the ground, and builds enough flexibility to consider the historical baggage of the rural-based immigrants and the needs of the increasingly affluent urban commuters.

Policy Implications A Cultural Language of Inclusion In this chapter, I have highlighted the need to work against an essentialized image in the popular mind and public media of “the new immigrant” (as poor, rural, needy, and maladjusted). It is also necessary to question the well-meaning but rather one-dimensional treatment of these immigrants by government agencies (as social problems, targets of social welfare and services, and objects of control and regulation). Data collected so far illustrate a complicated and differentiated history. Understanding this history will help the government work proactively and strategically in immigration law, family and welfare services, education, and job training. Anticipating that there will be more circulation of family members in the region, based on varying life cycle needs, we must rethink the meaning of “border” and “immigration” as analytical and administrative concepts. In recent years, the government has used the term “new arrivals,” which in fact, may be very different from the public’s perception of “new immigrants.” The official term is based on legal, administrative criteria — those who have used one-way permits to enter Hong Kong and who have

142 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

not resided in the territory for more than seven years. The government created sociological profiles by tracking the new arrivals in two surveys, one when the newcomers pass the border, and the other conducted by the Home Affairs Department when these immigrants apply for their identity cards. The data collected are supplemented by census data and thematic reports. Agencies and scholars share the view that there is a physical group of people who are targeted as “new arrivals.” A sociological profile can be drawn with hard data — gender, age, income, education level, occupation, marital status, etc. The surveys also ask about native place, generally in administrative terms (such as Guangdong, Fujian, Shanghai, etc.), and occasionally dialects (to facilitate the children’s schooling). New arrivals who seek government and NGO help soon after they cross the border into Hong Kong can generally be located through community centres, schools, and social welfare agencies. This is the tangible part of the story. The major concern for the government is to make sure that the new arrivals assimilate into the host society as quickly as possible. There is an underlying assumption that the adjustment problems will diminish with time and appropriate support. Scholars and social workers have suggested a range of ways to speed the process: working with schools to aid children with language barriers; providing short-term retraining programs for the unskilled; creating family services and community network for needy single parents. The government has tried to persuade the Chinese authorities to adjust the quota system to better facilitate family reunions and earlier local education for the immigrant children. There is also a less tangible story, more complicated and emotionally charged. If we apply a historical perspective that focuses on when, why, and how a cultural language of exclusion is exercised, we may end up with a different target population whom we term “new immigrants.” Those who are labeled with a derogatory image may not be new arrivals. Some, despite their years of residence in Hong Kong, have never assimilated due to their rural orientation and lack of education. They continue to be singled out by employers and the public as “new immigrants.” On the other hand, some who have come from the prosperous and urbanized parts of the Pearl River delta blend in almost immediately after they pick up their Hong Kong identity cards and hardly need public assistance. Still others are but statistics in government estimates. They qualify to apply for entry, but decide not to move. There are those who come by illegal means and might face problems of adjustment, but they never appear in official records or public assistance networks. In looking at “the new immigrants” this way, we see a cohort that cannot be defined by its legal right-of-abode status or by its point of arrival in Hong Kong. Furthermore, the length of their stay

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 143

will not resolve the problems nor reduce public prejudice against them. Today, the progressive reintegration of Hong Kong with China, and especially with the Pan Pearl River delta, triggers yet new patterns of border crossing. This historical context is relevant for assessing Hong Kong’s present and future human resources, in particular, the family needs of new arrivals as well as their potential contributions. The task at hand is how to nurture a language of inclusion at a time when local residents feel insecure and threatened. A culture of inclusion should, in fact, be extended beyond the treatment of Mainland immigrants. David Eldon and Chen Zhiwu have repeatedly stressed that looking north is important, but it must dovetail with Hong Kong looking globally. If Hong Kong is to enhance its position as a finance hub, it needs a work force that has an intrinsic appreciation for the city as an encompassing space and for it being different from competitors in the region. Cosmopolitan professional practices and outlooks are what the Chinese reformers urgently need to engage the global economy. Hong Kong, with its unique historical networks, should be in a position to provide such resource.22 To engage the new China century, Hong Kong must dare to be different. As shown in the earlier chapters of this volume, the territory has historically gained from being “a space of flow,” with the circulation of commodities, talents, capital, and cultural resources. In the process it has built healthy institutions as anchors. Whether to attract professional talent from abroad, or to nurture new immigrant children from China, it will be helpful for Hong Kongers to appreciate the circumstances that have allowed generations to face China and the world on their own terms. This is the “flexible positioning” drawn from historical lessons in which local residents cultivated layers of China resources to face the world and engaged layers of the globe to march north. This is in essence the “One Country, Two Systems” formula. In the rapidly transformed environments of today, knowing precisely where the line must be drawn, who the brokers are, what institutional and professional practices to encourage, and what cultural horizons to explore are the necessary steps to redefine a porous border. In macro political terms, one goes beyond ideologically charged categories to understand the differentiated terrain in Hong Kong’s colonial past and in a marketizing China. At the micro level of everyday life, one needs to confront a cultural language of exclusion that has permeated one’s conceptualization and treatment of “new immigrants.” If openness is the goal, Hong Kong’s transparent, well-managed, and accountable institutions and business practices can provide an attractive environment for global talents to work in and for new immigrants to be nurtured along with the locally born.

144 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

What Is the Road Map? If one considers globally oriented professionals and a changing cohort of new arrivals as crucial economic and cultural brokers for Hong Kong’s march to the north, there are two existing routes. One is structural, the other geographical/regional. The former is for Hong Kong’s multi-ethnic professionals to link with China’s increasingly affluent urban middle class who demand high quality services. CEPA would help accelerate that process at the professional end, and attention would be paid to finances, logistics, legal, survey, and accounting services. At the moment, such urban synergy is concentrated in China’s coastal cities, such as Dalian, Shanghai, Beijing, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen. Cities in the inland provinces are catching up, and they offer tremendous potential for mutual impact. The Pan Pearl River Delta concept is a case in point, and the recent economic summit, aiming to synergize Hong Kong’s development plans with those of China, was held in the same spirit of maximizing regional uniqueness for integration.23 What one conceives as a structural route can be similarly applied to the geographical route. Strategic thinking requires a more thorough cultural and historical view of the region in close proximity to Hong Kong and from where most of the new immigrants have come. First, the eastern and western parts of the Pearl River delta are two different worlds, past and present. The growing urban belt is in the western part, along the West River (Xijiang). Guangzhou, Foshan, Panyu, Shunde, Zhongshan, Zhuhai, Jiangmen are historically connected nodes. In the east, the East River (Dongjiang) cuts through part of Dongguan and Huizhou. But Shenzhen and these eastern urban nodes are not historically connected in commerce or culture, and are surrounded by rural Hakka hill areas. Second, the two regions have different development orientations. Dongguan and Shenzhen are pointed to as economic miracles. Dongguan thrived on Taiwanese capital, a labour-intensive factory regime, and cheap labour from China’s inland provinces. Shenzhen, as a Special Economic Zone, has relied greatly on administrative interventions. The number of migrant workers can be staggering (in the tens of millions), the pursuit of wealth feverish, and life on the fast track brash. But income disparity is wide, and local society is not productively engaged. Social problems are not given adequate attention. Beyond the modern-looking factories, highways, colorful billboards, and golf courses, civil society is remote.24 The municipalities in the western part of the delta are historically linked to Hong Kong and Macao (and via the municipalities along the West River to southwestern China) by centuries of commerce, lineage, communal, linguistic, and ritual ties. They are diverse economies. The thriving industries

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 145

are rooted in the region and have national markets. Over the past decade, the municipalities have concentrated on building a transportation infrastructure. Turning to service industries that cater to an emerging urban belt, the municipalities compete for professional and technical talent that is locally scarce. Even the most economically developed municipalities realize that they have been too focused on indigenous capital and domestic markets. They now seek global linkages. City leaders have accelerated the integration of nonlocals into the often highly guarded urban sector. Provincial government and universities are sending large numbers of their staff overseas for training. Every layer of local society is engaged and elaborated by the process. In central cities such as Guangzhou, residents are using electoral and legal means to protect their property rights. One should not overlook the life styles of the rising middle class in Guangzhou (many are college graduates and independent entrepreneurs from cities in the north). A dynamic force, they enjoy choices of luxury apartments, supermarkets, private cars, and weekend trips to country resorts. They also consume cultural images cut and pasted from the global media. Many are multi-computer and multi–cell phone families. Recently, they have joined other Chinese urbanites for shopping sprees in Hong Kong. Guangzhou has one of the nation’s highest per capita disposable incomes, and the consumption demands have moved rapidly towards high-end cultural products and services. There seems to be room for fostering a common cultural language with Hong Kongers.25

Analytical Implications In this chapter, I have taken a detour from administrative categories of defining a target population. By focusing on discursive categories and unveiling the complex histories and emotions underlying the hardened labels, I hope to connect policy concerns with academic research. Different historical junctures have turned immigrants from China into Hong Kongers. Their lives, aspirations, cultural capital, and strategic maneuvers mingled to substantiate the human landscape in post-war Hong Kong. Their interwoven lives have contributed to Hong Kong’s successes as much as deepened its vulnerabilities. Cross-border unions will continue to shape Hong Kong’s human resources in the future. The categories that policy makers have used to define the population may not be adequate to capture the complexities of these moving targets. We need analytical categories that can privilege the process and fluidity of boundaries. If a process approach is important, one must ask how one approaches Hong Kong as a “place” and Hong Konger as a “population” where rapid

146 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

structural changes are constant. As Elizabeth Sinn suggests, Hong Kong has historically been a “space of flow.” One may not wish to treat the identities of Hong Kong residents as defined by a fixed physical or administrative boundary. Instead, one appreciates how different generations have attached multiple meanings to Hong Kong as a legal abode, as a source of livelihood and advancement, as a salient site for depositing core values, family histories and memories, and as a springboard to move beyond. All of these are subject to intense negotiations. It is useful to highlight how these layers of history and emotions constitute the character of a few million residents who are entrepreneurial in their strategies, contingent in cultural constitution, and vocal in aspirations for citizenship. Boundaries shape social life by providing a frame of reference for classifying and ordering.26 How do we reassess the flow of social life, its complexities and contradictions, when boundary maintenance takes on new forms and meanings? The approach here urges policy makers to look into criteria related to cultural, historical, and discursive factors. This is particularly pertinent if they are to target “new immigrants” whose families straddle borders, to enlarge Hong Kong’s footprint by encouraging these families to circulate north, to track marginalized populations who can pose high public health risks, and to network with Hong Kong’s emigrant families in China and overseas. The nature of world city spaces adds a dimension to the rethinking of borders and boundaries. The ability to globally connect also attracts volatility.27 As indicated in the chapter by Ku and Tsui, Hong Kong has a vibrant public culture that gives it character. One draws meaning from the architectural hardware as well as from the software of social activities — family and religious rituals, conspicuous consumption by locals and visitors, community festivals, the performing arts, film and media images, and, last but not least, protest marches. These events intertwine to add color and rhythm to everyday life and to project global visibility. The June Fourth vigils in Victoria Park, the July 1st protest marches, and the orchestrated anti-WTO (World Trade Organization) confrontations by Korean farmers on the streets of Hong Kong are but a few notable examples. The government invests heavily for connectivity and is understandably anxious about issues of control and stability. The question is how to turn the volatility of a global cityscape into an arena to highlight the territory’s unique advantages. For Hong Kong to create a fair and open “space” for the engagement of talent requires institutional integrity and a culture of inclusion. These are the underlying principles for positioning Hong Kong’s diverse human resource — expatriates, students, guest workers, visitors, the locally born, and new arrivals.

Positioning “Hong Kongers” and “New Immigrants” 147

In sum, Hong Kongers’ repositioning can be part of Pearl River delta’s changing human resource map. The difference between the eastern and western part of the delta and between the circumstances of the new immigrants and the Guangzhou middle class highlights the rural/urban gap as a challenging issue for China. The strategic moves of Hong Kongers (locally born or new arrivals) can help bridge the gap and nurture a civil, urbane, and encompassing region for all concerned. Hong Kong at the moment may not have hardware as dazzling as that of Shanghai; and it may not have human talents as numerous. The point to stress is Hong Kong’s existing institutions. They can integrate the territory’s hardware and software to produce predictable results and pleasant surprises.

6

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning Johannes M. M. Chan*

I. Introduction What makes Hong Kong competitive? In the last 150 years, Hong Kong has developed from a “barren rock with hardly a house upon it”1 to an international financial centre. The population has grown from a bare 5,650 in 1841 to nearly seven million in 2008. Economically, it has gone through the successive stages of being first a trade outpost in the last century, then a labour intensive manufacturing and industrial city as well as an importexport entrepôt after the Second World War, a service and finance centre since the late eighties, and transformation to knowledge-based economy in the 21st century. There is a fine, orderly and efficient society that is governed by the rule of law and relatively free from corruption. At the same time, the economic miracle is largely a historical accident, as it is neither planned nor anticipated. The economic success owes largely to the entrepreneurship, industry, resilience, adaptability and creativity of the population, half of whom are immigrants from the Mainland. In the 1950s, entrepreneurs from Shanghai came to Hong Kong to avoid political turmoil in the Mainland.

*

I am indebted to the University Research Grants and the Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences for their generous support for the research in this study. Part of this chapter has been published in J. Chan and B. Rwezaura (eds), Immigration Law in Hong Kong: An Interdisciplinary Study (Sweet & Maxwell Asia, 2004), chap. 1 and I am grateful to Sweet & Maxwell Asia for its permission to reproduce part of the chapter here.

150 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

They brought with them capital and industrial expertise, and helped set up the manufacturing and textile industries in Hong Kong products. In the sixties and seventies, immigrants provided a regular source of cheap labour, which minimized production costs and ensured the competitiveness of Hong Kong products. Our industrial revolution started with cotton textiles and garments, and soon spread to plastic goods, toys, electronic products, watches and clocks. Capitalizing on its excellent harbour and strategic geographical location, Hong Kong continued to expand its role as an entrepôt. In the early eighties, Hong Kong moved into finance and services. The demand for human resources has accordingly changed from cheap labour force to management skills and knowledge. As Hong Kong further transfers itself into a knowledge-based economy which relies heavily on talents, a challenge is whether we have sufficient human resources that can meet and sustain the economic development. In the absence of any natural resources (apart from a harbour, the size of which is rapidly diminishing), human talents become the only capital upon which the continued success of Hong Kong can draw, but how far is the supply of human capital sustainable? There are only two ways to sustain the supply of human talents — either by nurturing local talents through education and training, or by importing talents from outside. The former rests on our education system, and the latter is governed by our immigration policy. This study will examine how far existing immigration policy is conducive to human resources planning. It is perhaps ironic to discuss immigration policy when there was no such policy in the first hundred years of Hong Kong’s colonial history. In the last fifty years, immigration policy was almost equated with immigration control. As late as in 1997, the objectives of immigration policies were described by the HKSAR Government to be “to limit to an acceptable level population growth brought about by immigration, and to control the entry of foreign worker.”2 The same sentiment was expressed by the Secretary for Security in the year 2000:3 Facilitating freedom of movement is crucial both to maintaining Hong Kong as an international financial centre and to ensuring the economy’s continued prosperity. Effective immigration control is vital to maintaining Hong Kong as a safe and secure city by preventing the entry of undesirable persons and the departure of people wanted for criminal offences.

The relations between immigration policies and import of talents were recognized only in the year 2002:4

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 151

The policies aim on the one hand to keep at an acceptable level population growth brought about by immigration and, on the other hand, to facilitate the admission of persons, including those of outstanding talent, professionals and investors who would bring substantial benefits to help develop the economy.

Thus, until recently, immigration policy is about numbers and control of numbers. Its overall objective is to facilitate the movements of bona fide travellers and control misuses and abuses. Immigration policy has not been set in the context of socio-economic growth, and is essentially passive, negative and piecemeal in nature. It is largely shaped by external political events, most of which are beyond the control of Hong Kong. In this context, it is sometimes overlooked that Hong Kong has always been an immigrant city and owes a lot to immigrants for its economic success. This study will first trace the historical development of immigration law and policies since 1842. As noted above, it is significant that, notwithstanding its reliance on migrants, Hong Kong did not have, until recently, any proactive immigration policies. It is followed by a discussion of the recent series of cases regarding who has the right of abode in Hong Kong under the Basic Law. This section is rounded up by an analysis of some recent schemes for importing talents and their implications. The third section explores the present discretionary regime in permitting those who have no right of abode in Hong Kong to remain in Hong Kong, and the legal responses in controlling (or failing to control) the untrammelled discretion of the immigration authorities. The fourth section turns to those who are permitted to come to Hong Kong. It provides a socio-economicpolitical analysis of the new migrants phenomenon and examines the Government’s policies in integrating the new migrants into the community. The fifth section argues for a proactive immigration policy. In light of the discussions, the last section puts forward a series of policy recommendations.

II. Evolution of Immigration Law and Policies 1842–2008 An Overview Hong Kong has always been an immigrant city, a fact which seems to have been forgotten or conveniently ignored in recent years. Immigration from the Mainland has accounted for 60% of the growth of population and, at present, about half of its nearly seven million population are themselves migrants from the Mainland.

152 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 1 Growth of Population, 1841–2006 Year Population Growth Year Population Growth Year Population Growth Year Population Growth 1841

5,650

1901

300,660

1966

3,716,400

1996

1851

32,983

1911

464,277

1971

4,064,400

2001

6,421,300 6,724,900

1861

119,321

1921

623,166

1976

4,477,600

2002

6,787,000

1871

124,198

1931

878,947

1981

5,207,000

2003

6,803,100

1881

160,402

1941

1,639,000

1986

5,588,000

2004

6,882,600

1891

224,814

1951

2,360,000

1991

5,822,500

2005

6,965,900

2006

6,994,500

Source: Information Services Department, HKSAR, Oct 2006, and census 2005 and 2006.

Since 1842, Hong Kong has always been a favourite sanctuary for those looking for a better life, and those seeking refuge from political uncertainty in the Mainland. In the last 150 years, Hong Kong has experienced four major influxes of migrants. The first took place in 1861 at the end of the Tai Ping Rebellion. As the Colonial Secretary noted in 1887, “the Chinese were flocking to the Colony and hundreds sleep in the streets because the $2.50 a month they could earn in Hong Kong was much more than they could get in their village”. The second influx took place after the 1911 Revolution when the population was doubled in Hong Kong within a few years. Hong Kong became a place of sojourn from political unrest and civil wars in China. The population spiralled again in the late thirties when the SinoJapanese War began. Just between 1937 and 1938, 300,000 refugees from the Mainland arrived in Hong Kong. Indeed, immigration control was first introduced only in 1940. It was soon suspended because of the war and was revived in 1949, when the present discretionary regime and the daily quota system were introduced. The fourth major influx happened during and after the Cultural Revolution. In 1973 alone, 56,000 illegal immigrants arrived from the Mainland. This led to the replacement of the open door policy by the reached based policy, which itself was abolished in 1980. The abolition of the reached based policy was a watershed event which marked the beginning of a strict regime of repatriation, and led to many heartbreaking cases in the following two decades. To some extent these human tragedies were precipitated by our own immigration policy. Those who arrived before the abolition of the reached based policy were overwhelmingly young male. They settled in Hong Kong in the mid-eighties. With low education qualification, a strong Mainland accent, as well as sex imbalance in Hong Kong, many of them could not find a partner in Hong Kong. They returned to the Mainland to set up families, which led to many children born to a HKPR parent who, under the Basic Law, appears to have a claim for a right of abode in Hong Kong — a problem which plagued

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 153

Hong Kong in the last seven years. The following sub-sections describe these developments in greater details.

The First Century: 1842–1950 Hong Kong became a British colony in 1842.5 Notwithstanding the change in its political and legal status in 1842, the free flow of people across the border in both directions continued. As Endacott noted, “incessant coming and going was a feature of the island’s life from the start”.6 Indeed, the supplementary Treaty of the Bogue 1843 stated that all Chinese natives would have free and full permission to come to Hong Kong for purposes of trade and purchase of goods.7 The British occupation attracted foreign merchants who sought the security of British protection, fortune makers who wanted to make quick money, and Chinese looking for jobs and opportunities. The settlement created an immediate demand for a lot of construction — houses, godowns, roads and others in connection with navy and merchant ships, as well as services — servants, cleaners, laundry services, cooks and other types of commercial employment. These work opportunities attracted Chinese labourers from nearby, and in turn generated further demands for services (food suppliers, tailors etc). By 1841, the population was estimated at 5,650.8 By 1845, the population had increased to 23,817.9 In June 1881, in a speech to the Legislative Council, Sir John Hennessy noted an increase of Chinese artisans in various industries, notably carpenters, blacksmiths, pewter-smiths, tin-smiths, rice pounders and tailors. Some of these Chinese were said to be doing quite well, engaging in occupations such as birds’ nest, joss-paper and bean curd selling, sharks’ fin, gin seng, and jadestone dealing and joss-house keeping.10 W. H. Marsh, the Colonial Secretary, reported in 1887 that “the Chinese were flocking to the Colony and hundreds sleep in the streets because the $2.50 a month they could earn in Hong Kong was much more than they could get in their village”.11 Political turmoil across the border caused further increase in the number of Chinese coming to Hong Kong. At the end of the Tai Ping Rebellion in 1861, the population in Hong Kong increased sharply to 119,321.12 By the time the New Territories were leased to the British under the Peking Convention 1898, the population stood at 254,400. This rapid increase continued, largely due to the 1911 Revolution and the following period of political unrest and civil war. By 1921, the population had grown to 625,166, which was twice the figure at 1901. Though the population continued to grow, Endacott and Hinton observed that it was always a shifting population.13 The numbers increased,

154 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

but the individuals who made up those numbers were constantly changing. For most of these migrants, Hong Kong was a place where work could be found, where money could be earned, where trade offered the chance of good profits, or simply a place of temporary refuge. Once the work had been completed, or the money earned, or the political turmoil had subsided, these migrants returned to their hometowns. This was true not only for Chinese migrants, but also for the Europeans, the Australians and the Americans. With a huge and transient population, crime control became a major issue that the local government had to tackle. Some of the sailors and soldiers who were eager to make a fortune were prepared to do so by whatever means. Far from their home countries, they also behaved far worse than they would ever have done in their own countries or villages. The Travellers Restrictions Ordinance 1915 hence provided for examination of ships on arrival, and required persons of non-Asiatic race or nationality and all Indians who arrived in the colony without being examined upon arrival to report to a police station within twelve hours of their arrival.14 The Registration of Persons Ordinance 1916 introduced a registration system whereby persons in the colony were required to furnish certain particulars of registration with the police.15 However, “persons of Chinese race” were exempted. 16 The Deportation Ordinance 1917 further empowered the Governor to deport persons, particularly non-British subjects.17 The first systematic immigration control was introduced by the Passports Ordinance 1923, the purpose of which was to “regulate the admission of persons into the Colony of Hong Kong”.18 It authorized the Governor in Council to make regulations to prohibit persons of any specified class from entering Hong Kong without a passport or some other approved documents. However, the relevant Regulations exempted persons of Chinese race, children under the age of fifteen, and persons in transit. Thus, people from the Mainland continued to enjoy free entry into Hong Kong. This immigration control system was further developed in 1934 by the Immigration and Passports Ordinance. 19 It set out nine categories of “undesirable immigrants” who may be refused permission to land upon arrival by sea. There was, however, no restriction if they arrived by land, which was the manner of arrival of most Chinese migrants through the northern border of the New Territories. The Ordinance also continued to exempt persons of Chinese race from the requirement of possession of valid travel documents and visas.20 At the same time, the Registration of Persons Ordinance 1934 repealed the Travellers Restrictions Ordinance 1915 and the Registration of Persons Ordinance 1916, and required every alien “other than an alien of Chinese race” to register with the police.21 The Sino-Japanese War which began in 1937, and the fall of Guangzhou in 1938, led to a mass influx of refugees to Hong Kong. By 1937, the

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population hit the million, and just between 1937 and 1938, 300,000 refugees from the Mainland arrived in Hong Kong. In 1941, the population was estimated at 1,639,000. By this time, it was clear to the Hong Kong Government that the colony would no longer be able to cope with this spiralling rate of refugee influx. The Immigration Control Ordinance 1940 was enacted, which for the first time imposed immigration control over persons of Chinese race from the Mainland. It repealed the Immigration and Passport Ordinance 1934, and provided that any person not in possession of relevant travel documents, visas or entry permits, frontier passes or certificates of residence issued under the Ordinance would not be permitted to land, enter or remain in Hong Kong. Unlike the 1934 Ordinance, no exemption was made in respect of persons of Chinese race.22 However, immigration control was imposed only at the time of the entry. Once entered without detection, it was not an offence to remain in Hong Kong without permission. The absence of permission simply meant that the person was liable to deportation. A new Immigration Department was also formed in 1940, taking over from the police who had previously been responsible for immigration control. Notwithstanding the legislative amendments that took away the right of Chinese persons of free entry into the colony, traffic across the border in either direction remained more or less unrestricted. This was for a number of reasons. First, soon after the enactment of the Ordinance, Hong Kong fell into the hands of the Japanese forces. The newly formed immigration department did not survive the War.23 Secondly, the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong between 1941–1945 had led to a massive outflow of people. In August 1945, the population was estimated at less than 600,000,24 about one-third of the size of the population before the War. The more pressing task for the Government after the War was to rebuild the community. Immigration control was not at the top of the agenda, and given the dwindling of population, it was not something of immediate urgency. The Hong Kong Government also tried to be friendly with China, who emerged after the War as part of the Allies. The pre-war restrictions on entry into the colony were not revived.25 However, instead of having peace after the eight-year Sino-Japanese War, civil war between the Kuomintang and the Communist Party escalated in the following years. Once again, Hong Kong had become a place of refuge. The population rapidly increased, and just between August 1945 and the end of 1946, a million people arrived in Hong Kong, and the population reached the mark of 1,600,000 again. The defeat of the Kuomintang forces and the establishment of the People’s Republic of China in 1949 led to further and unprecedented massive migration to Hong Kong. By the end of 1950, the population had swollen to 2.5 million. As Endacott noted, “the newcomers made their homes on roof-tops, in stairways and in

156 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

crude insanitary shanty towns on the hillsides, and subjected community and public utility services to severe strain”.26 By this time, the Government recognized that it would no longer be able to allow unrestricted immigration of Chinese people to Hong Kong, and the Immigrants Control Ordinance 1949 was introduced. It provided that no person might enter into the colony save under and in accordance with an entry permit of an immigration officer.27 Natives of Guangdong province were, however, exempted from this requirement.28 This marked the beginning of a discretionary regime in controlling the entry into and stay in Hong Kong. It further required all aliens, including aliens of Chinese race, to register with the Registrar of Aliens. For the first time, entry into the colony without a permit from an immigration officer was made a criminal offence, which, upon conviction, might lead to expulsion from the colony. At the same time, the Registration of Persons Ordinance 1949 introduced, also for the first time, a comprehensive system of compulsory registration of all persons in the colony, and the issuance of identity cards to all registered persons.29 Failure to apply for registration was made a criminal offence.30 In May 1950, the Hong Kong Government first invoked its power under the Immigrants Control Ordinance 1949 by unilaterally introducing a daily quota system to restrict entry of migrants from the Mainland so as to make those entering roughly equal to those leaving.31 This quota system prompted a protest from the Foreign Ministry of the PRC to the British Government for being “an unreasonable and unfriendly act towards the PRC and its people”.32 Probably in retaliation, the PRC imposed a stringent exit control on Chinese citizens in 1951. This set the scene for the numerous tragedies in the following five decades. Sino-British relations at this stage were rather tense. On the one hand, there were fears of attack of the Communist troops and strong British troops were placed at the border. The tension eased when Britain recognized the Peking Government in February 1950 and when the new regime in Peking showed respect for the border of the colony. However, the tension was renewed with the outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950, when British troops served with the United Nations’ forces in Korea whereas China supported the Communist regime in North Korea. Hong Kong suffered badly in the Korean War. On the one hand, as a British colony, it had to comply with the United Nations’ embargo on trading with China in a wide range of strategic goods. On the other hand, the United States imposed an almost complete embargo on trading with China and Hong Kong was treated as part of China for this purpose. Trading almost came to a standstill. However, political uncertainty in China had once again driven many of its people away from the country. Refugees from Shanghai brought

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with them capital and industrial expertise as well as a pool of skilled, intelligent and industrious labourers to Hong Kong. With this influx of labour and capital, industries in Hong Kong soon flourished. The first industrial revolution was based on cotton textiles, which soon spread to woolen-knitted goods, then man-made fibres and made-up garments. During the sixties, clothing and textiles made up more than half of domestic exports by value. Plastic goods, toys, electronic products, watches and clocks soon joined the flourishing light industry, and Hong Kong, capitalizing on its excellent harbour and strategic geographical location, continued to expand its role as an entrepôt.33 These paved the way for the golden period of economic growth over the following few decades. Back in the fifties, with tightened control on exit by the PRC authorities, the number of migrants from the Mainland was under control. The quota system was relaxed in February 1956, but it was re-imposed in September of the same year when more Chinese were coming into the colony than were leaving it. 34 In 1958, the Immigration (Control and Offences) Ordinance35 replaced the Immigrants Control Ordinance 1949. The 1958 Ordinance refined the immigration control system. Apart from retaining the discretionary system of immigration control at the point of entry, it also provided more detailed rules to deal with illegal immigrants who managed to come to Hong Kong and were subsequently discovered. In brief, it empowered an immigration officer to grant a permit, with or without conditions, to allow an illegal immigrant to stay in Hong Kong. As this was a discretionary regime, how an illegal immigrant was to be dealt with was decided by the prevailing executive policies and not by law. Although there was a great exodus of migrants to Hong Kong in 1962, 36 and notwithstanding the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution in 1966, the Hong Kong Government had adopted a relatively lenient policy. Most of the illegal immigrants were given permission to stay in Hong Kong. This lenient policy was maintained until the early seventies.

From an Open Door Policy to an Exclusion Policy In the period between the mid-fifties and the mid-seventies, immigration law and policies in Hong Kong were more heavily shaped by political events in Britain than by those in China. In the heyday of the British Empire, anyone born within Her Majesty’s allegiance was a British subject and could enter freely into any part of the Dominion.37 After the Second World War, rising consciousness of national self-determination resulted in an increasing demand for greater autonomy on the subject of nationality among the countries in the Dominion. As a result, the British Nationality Act 1948 was enacted. Under this Act, a

158 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

“British subject” was the same as a “Commonwealth citizen”. A national of any member State of the Commonwealth would automatically be a Commonwealth citizen. Yet it was up to each member State to define who their own nationals would be. The British Government, despite strong opposition, chose to adopt a composite citizenship for the United Kingdom and Colonies (“CUKC”) as the gateway to Commonwealth citizenship.38 No distinction was drawn between citizens of the United Kingdom and citizens of her colonies. All CUKCs, including those in Hong Kong, could, until 1968, freely enter into the United Kingdom. As a result of rapid decolonization since the fifties, there was an increasing number of Commonwealth citizens who had a right to freely enter, but who had no connection with, the United Kingdom apart from a colonial (or former colonial) link. This in turn led to an increasingly strict immigration regime. Immigration control was first imposed on Commonwealth citizens other than CUKCs by the Commonwealth Immigrants Act 1962. CUKCs, however, continued to enjoy a right of free entry into the United Kingdom. The influx into Britain of East African Asians who were driven away from Kenya and Tanzania due to the “Africanization” policy in the mid-sixties led to further amendments to the Immigrants Act in 1968 and 1971, the net result of which was that most CUKCs were left with no right of abode in the United Kingdom or any of her dependent territories.39 The amendments to the English Immigrants Acts were reflected in the Immigration Ordinance in Hong Kong. The Immigration Ordinance 1971 defined for the first time in the history of Hong Kong three categories of Hong Kong residents who enjoyed, albeit in varying degrees, a right to land in Hong Kong. The three categories were Hong Kong Belongers, Chinese Residents and Resident United Kingdom Belongers. The large majority of Hong Kong residents were either Hong Kong Belongers, which included all British subjects born in Hong Kong, or Chinese Residents, who were persons wholly or partly of Chinese race and who had been ordinarily resident in Hong Kong for a continuous period of not less than seven years.40 All migrants from the Mainland who had been ordinary residents in Hong Kong for at least seven years fell into the category of Chinese Residents, and “ordinary residence” excluded any period when the stay was illegal. Chinese Residents were given a right to land in Hong Kong, but unlike Hong Kong Belongers, they were subject to deportation under certain conditions.41 As Albert Chen observed, the Immigration Ordinance 1971 was significant in two respects.42 First, the right to land in Hong Kong and the corresponding limitations on deportation against holders of such right laid down the foundation for the formulation of a right of abode in the territory in future. Secondly, the Ordinance took away the unfettered

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discretion of the immigration authorities in the granting or not granting of permission to enter into Hong Kong with respect to those who enjoyed a right to land in Hong Kong.43 On the other hand, persons not falling within any of these three categories had no right to land in Hong Kong. They might only enter into Hong Kong with the permission of the immigration authorities, who could, in exercising their discretion, impose any conditions as they considered appropriate. How the discretion was to be exercised was governed primarily by the prevailing executive policy.44 Notwithstanding the introduction of a more restrictive immigration regime by the 1971 Ordinance, the immigration authorities had, until 1974, adopted an “open door” policy. Most illegal immigrants were not removed. Instead, they were required to report to the immigration authorities to obtain entry permits so that their stay could be regularized. However, a significant change in policy took place in 1974.

The Reached Base Policy and Its Abolition Under the open door policy, about 60,000 Chinese persons entered into Hong Kong without permission between 1962 and 1972 and were subsequently permitted to stay. However, in 1973 alone, 56,000 illegal immigrants arrived from the Mainland.45 This caused considerable alarm to the Hong Kong Government, who decided to introduce the “touch base” or “reached base” policy on 30 November 1974. Under this policy, illegal immigrants who were arrested in the border region or in Hong Kong territorial waters during their attempt to enter Hong Kong would be repatriated, but all others who evaded immediate capture, entered the urban areas and subsequently gained a home with relatives or otherwise found proper accommodation would be given permission to stay in Hong Kong when they applied for it at the Immigration Department. The rationale of this policy was to avoid creating an illegal community of people living outside the law who could be exploited by employers and blackmailed by unscrupulous people and who might be compelled to live on the fringe of society and be drawn to crime as a means of survival.46 The reached base policy was effective in reducing the number of illegal immigrants over the following few years, when less than 1,800 illegal immigrants were arrested each year. Those who evaded arrest and reached base came to about 6,600 per year. However, the situation changed dramatically in 1978 when there was a sharp increase in the number of illegal immigrants and those who reached base, a pattern which continued through to the end of 1980:

160 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 2 Illegal Immigrants into Hong Kong, 1977–1980 Year

Arrested on Arrival and Repatriated

Evaded Capture and Remained (Reached Base)

Total

1977

1,800

6,600

8,400

1978

8,200

28,100

36,300

1979

89,900

107,700

197,600

1980 (Jan–Oct)

80,500

69,500

150,000

Source: Hong Kong 1981 (Government Printer, 1982), 145.

On 23 October 1980, the Hong Kong Government, having consulted the Central People’s Government of the PRC and the Guangdong authorities, announced the discontinuation of the reached base policy with immediate effect so that whoever arrived in Hong Kong illegally after that date would be repatriated. The Governor explained to the Legislative Council:47 The “reached base” policy has become a tragic charade in which the illegal immigrant has little to lose and everything to gain by attempting to run the gauntlet of Chinese and Hong Kong forces, and even if caught has every incentive to try again. The Chinese accuse us, with some justification, of applying a policy which positively encourages illegal immigration. If this movement is to stop, the potential illegal emigrant in the commune must be made to realize that even if he gets through the security cordons, he would not have reached base and safety, but like an illegal immigrant anywhere in the world, will be constantly liable to arrest and return. We propose that this should be the case for anyone who arrives as from tonight.

As permission to land in Hong Kong was governed by discretion, it was not really necessary to amend the legislation in order to give effect to the new policy. However, the Immigration (Amendment)(No 2) Ordinance 1980,48 which went through all three readings in one day, was enacted to facilitate the implementation of the new policy. It improved the detection and removal of illegal immigrants in two ways. First, the new Part VIA required all persons in Hong Kong aged 15 or above to carry at all times their identity cards or some other acceptable proof of identity, and to produce them on demand to the police.49 Secondly, the new Part IVB prohibited the employment of illegal immigrants. It was obligatory for employers to inspect the identity cards of all those who were on their payroll or whom they wished to recruit. The object was to debar illegal immigrants from employment. As a safeguard, an immigration tribunal was set up to determine appeals by an illegal immigrant against a removal order on the ground that he had a right to land in Hong Kong.50

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As noted above, a comprehensive identity card system was first introduced by the Registration of Persons Ordinance 1949, which was extended to all persons in Hong Kong, including persons of Chinese race who had previously been exempted from the registration requirement under the Registration of Persons Ordinance 1934. However, compulsory production of identity cards upon demand and the mandatory requirement of production of identity cards in finding employment or using Government facilities were introduced only in 1980 by the Immigration (Amendment) (No 2) Ordinance. Possession of an identity card became essential to the operation of the new scheme.51 In order to avoid retrospective action, those who were already in Hong Kong were given a grace period of three days to register themselves so as not to be caught by the change of policy. The grace period was, however, not intended to benefit those who were not yet in Hong Kong and tried to register within the three-day period.52 The discontinuance of the reached base policy was widely broadcast in Hong Kong through various media. It was held that the broadcast created legitimate expectations that due process would be adhered to in dealing with anyone who surrendered themselves within the grace period.53 The abolition of the reached base policy was an important turning point in the history of immigration in Hong Kong. From this date onward, all illegal immigrants from the Mainland were to be removed. While the Director of Immigration had discretion to permit an illegal immigrant to remain in Hong Kong on humanitarian grounds, the discretion was sparingly, and to many observers, almost inhumanely exercised.54 The emphasis since then has always been on the burden these migrants would have caused Hong Kong and the unfairness to others who choose to queue for a one-way permit to come to Hong Kong. Two factors should be mentioned here. The first is that by 1981, the population in Hong Kong had reached 5.2 million, making it one of the most densely populated territories in the world. The rapid and unplanned growth of population did stretch various social services, particularly housing, education and medical services, to their limits. Secondly, Hong Kong experienced a period of exponential economic growth from the 1970s onwards. As noted above, the migrants who fled from the war-torn China to Hong Kong in the forties and fifties brought with them capital, entrepreneurial experience and a surplus of cheap labour. Industries flourished. The per capita income rose sharply, and this in turn attracted even more migrants. Together with its stable political environment, Hong Kong became, by the mid-seventies, a haven for all kinds of economic migrants. In response, Hong Kong people became more jealous of guarding their wealth and were more ready to impose tighter immigration control. This exclusionary attitude was based on wealth rather than race or ethnicity.

162 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

One-Way Permit and the Quota System Notwithstanding the closed door policy, it was possible for Mainland Chinese to come to Hong Kong for settlement under the one-way permit system. These people were treated as legal migrants. There was a quota of such legal migrants. As pointed out above, the quota system for such legal migrants was introduced in 1950. The purpose at that time was to maintain a rough balance between the inflow and outflow of people. 55 The introduction of the quota system was opposed by the Foreign Ministry of the PRC as an “unreasonable and unfriendly act towards the PRC and its people”. It appeared that this quota system was not strictly enforced, nor was there an agreement between the British and the Chinese Governments on the quota when it was first introduced,56 as this was a sensitive political matter and such agreement might constitute a tacit recognition on the part of the Chinese Government that Hong Kong was not part of China and therefore Chinese people required the permission of the British Government to land in Hong Kong, even though this had been the de facto position since 1950. A compromise would be that the Director of Immigration always gave permission to land to whoever was issued a one-way permit. This has always been the position, which led Clarke to query whether this automatic grant of permission constituted an unlawful sub-delegation or abdication of discretionary power.57 Indeed, in December 1978, the number of legal migrants who came to Hong Kong by way of a one-way permit reached a peak of 310 per day, and the total number of migrants in 1978 was 67,495, which was almost 250% of the figure in 1977.58 It has been shown above that this influx of migrants, both legal and illegal, had led to the abolition of the reached base policy. At the same time, the British and the Chinese Governments agreed to limit the number of legal migrants to 150 per day in 1980. 59 This was reduced to 75 per day in 1983. 60 The number was increased to 105 in 1993 in order to facilitate the admission of a large number of long-separated spouses and children born to Hong Kong Permanent Residents.61 It was further increased to 150 in 1995. The issuance of one-way permit, and hence the right to come to Hong Kong, was always determined by the Mainland authorities. The lack of transparency and the prevalence of corrupt practice among Mainland officials resulted in grave abuse of the quota.62 The historical origin of the exit permit system is of particular significance. To the Chinese Government, Hong Kong has always been part of China and it was only temporarily under British administration. The introduction of an exit permit was a measure of retaliation when the British Hong Kong Government introduced a quota system to restrict the “unfettered right of Chinese to enter Chinese land”. The quota system

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received the blessing of the Chinese Government only in 1980, and its effect was that the Chinese Government would decide who could come to settle in Hong Kong and it would not be for the British Hong Kong Government to interfere with this sovereign right of the Chinese Government. Thus, it is a unique feature of Hong Kong immigration policy that the right to land in Hong Kong is effectively decided by an authority outside Hong Kong. To make things worse, the decision is not made by a single authority, but by many different local government bureaus which might have all kinds of vested interests and which might be susceptible to bribery and corruption. Before the change of sovereignty, the insistence of the PRC Government to effectively decide who could settle in Hong Kong is understandably an assertion of sovereignty against the British regime. After 1 July 1997, when Hong Kong was no longer under colonial administration, there seems to be no need to continue with this system. There is no reason why the HKSAR Government could not be given the authority to decide who and how many can come to and settle in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, as shown below, this question was never properly discussed but was settled by the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress in 1999 without full consideration or public debates. Another feature of the quota system is that it is primarily a device for immigration control. It is predominantly concerned with numbers and orderly arrival. Other values, such as family reunion, humanitarian consideration or manpower needs for economic development, seem to have played no role in immigration policy. It was only in the nineties that some of the quotas were expressly set aside for family reunion. A third implication of the quota system is that as a result of the quota, many spouses and children have to wait for a long period before they can be reunited with their family members in Hong Kong. The waiting time ranges from a year to over 25 years. In contrast, foreigners other than Chinese from the Mainland can come to Hong Kong on an employment visa with their family members without any restriction. They can also be joined by their children. Their spouse and children can regularize their stay after they have arrived in Hong Kong. In this regard, it is arguable that the quota system is discriminatory.63

The Resumption of Sovereignty The eighties witnessed a continuing trend of a restrictive regime of immigration control. In the first place, the British Nationality Act 1981 came into effect in January 1983. This Act regularized the rather unsatisfactory distinction among different categories of CUKCs in relation

164 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

to their right of abode in the United Kingdom. It replaced the composite citizenship of CUKC with three different forms of citizenship: British citizens who enjoyed a right of abode in the United Kingdom, British Dependent Territories Citizens who enjoyed a right of abode in the Dependent Territories (by virtue of the legislation of the Dependent Territories rather than as a matter of British Nationality Act), and British Overseas Citizens who enjoyed a right of abode nowhere in the world. Hong Kong Belongers fell largely into the category of British Dependent Territories Citizens (BDTCs). Although many Hong Kong people lamented strongly that the British Nationality Act 1981 had taken away their right of abode in the United Kingdom, this right was in fact taken away a decade before by the Commonwealth Immigrants Act 1968 and 1971. The right of Hong Kong Belongers and Chinese Residents to land in Hong Kong was not affected by this change of nationality status. In the negotiations about the future of Hong Kong, the tricky subject of who had the right of abode in Hong Kong upon Chinese resumption of sovereignty inevitably arose. This was addressed in Annex XIV of the SinoBritish Joint Declaration 1984. Not surprisingly, a distinction was drawn between Chinese nationals and foreigners. It provided that all Chinese nationals who were born or who had ordinarily resided in Hong Kong before or after the establishment of the HKSAR for a continuous period of seven years or more, thereby covering most Hong Kong Belongers and all Chinese Residents, as well as their children who are “persons of Chinese nationality born outside Hong Kong” (a phrase which proved to be controversial thirteen years later), shall have the right of abode in the HKSAR. Non-Chinese nationals, including their children below the age of 21 who were born in Hong Kong, would enjoy a right of abode in Hong Kong only if they had ordinarily resided in Hong Kong before or after the establishment of the HKSAR for a continuous period of seven years or more and who have taken Hong Kong as their place of permanent residence before or after the establishment of the HKSAR. Hence, some Hong Kong Belongers who were not of Chinese origin, such as the Indians and Pakistanis who might have been settled in Hong Kong for a few generations, would have to show, in addition to seven years’ residence, an intention to take Hong Kong as their place of permanent residence in order to claim a right of abode in Hong Kong. A difficulty of this scheme was to determine who were “Chinese nationals”.64 While this would not pose any problem for the Chinese Residents, the nationality status of the majority of Hong Kong Belongers who were holders of BDTC passports might give rise to embarrassing, if not also politically sensitive, issues. As far as British nationality law was concerned, BDTC was a form of British nationality, albeit that it did not carry a right of abode in the United Kingdom. On the other hand, Chinese

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nationality was acquired by descent (jus sanguinis), and Chinese nationality law prohibited dual nationality. Strict application of the nationality law of both countries might well have led to a situation in which over three million BDTCs in Hong Kong would have lost their right of abode on the eve of Chinese resumption of sovereignty over Hong Kong. Politically, China would be reluctant to admit three million “foreigners” as permanent residents of Hong Kong, whereas many BDTCs would be reluctant to give up this status. This issue was resolved in a pragmatic way. The British and the Chinese Governments each prepared a memorandum that was exchanged at the same time of signing the Joint Declaration. Under the memorandum of the United Kingdom, all BDTCs on 30 June 1997 might continue to retain an appropriate status for life, but this status could not be transmitted to the second generation. That status was subsequently known as British Nationals (Overseas) (BN(O)). BN(O)s were entitled to British consular protection when they were in a third country, but not when they were in China. Under the Chinese memorandum, all Hong Kong Chinese compatriots, whether they were holders of the BDTC passport, were deemed to be Chinese nationals. However, all BDTCs on 30 June 1997 might continue to use an appropriate travel documents issued by the British Government after 1 July 1997 for the purpose of travelling to other states and regions. Hence, in the eyes of the Chinese Government, BN(O) passport was regarded as a travel document, whereas under British nationality law, BN(O) was a form of British citizenship. This scheme was given legal effect by the Hong Kong Act 1985 and the subsequent Hong Kong (British Nationality) Order 1986. Under the Hong Kong (British Nationality) Order, all BDTCs needed to apply for the BN(O) status before 30 June 1997. Those who failed to do so would lose the British nationality status. For those who were Chinese, this would mean that they would remain Chinese nationals. For those who were non-Chinese, they might well become stateless, as many of whom have lost or never acquired the nationality of their own countries. Even if they had applied for the BN(O) status, as this status could not be transmitted to the second generation, their children born in Hong Kong after 1 July 1997 would also be stateless. In order to address this situation, the Hong Kong (British Nationality) Order provided that those who would otherwise be stateless as a result of the change of sovereignty over Hong Kong would automatically be conferred upon them the status of British Overseas Citizen, the same status conferred on the East African Asians in the seventies! The BOC status, which conferred no right of abode anywhere in the world, could be transmitted up to two generations. In order to give effect to the Joint Declaration, a major amendment was introduced to the Immigration Ordinance in 1987.65 It introduced, for the

166 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

first time in the history of Hong Kong, the dual concepts of “Hong Kong Permanent Resident” and “right of abode”. Section 2A provided that a Hong Kong Permanent Resident enjoys a right of abode in Hong Kong, that is to say he has the right — (a) to land in Hong Kong; (b) not to have imposed upon him any condition of stay in Hong Kong, and any condition of stay imposed shall have no effect; (c) not to have a deportation order made against him; and (d) not to have a removal order made against him.

“Hong Kong Permanent Resident” was defined in the First Schedule to the Ordinance which covered three categories of persons. Broadly speaking, it included most of the former Hong Kong Belongers, Chinese Residents and Resident United Kingdom Belongers.66 The position of Chinese Residents and Resident United Kingdom Belongers was improved in that they were no longer subject to deportation or removal orders. The term “Hong Kong Permanent Resident” (“HKPR”) was included in the Basic Law. HKPRs shall have the right of abode in the HKSAR and shall be qualified to obtain, in accordance with the law of the HKSAR, permanent identity cards which state their right of abode.67 The definition of a HKPR followed closely that in the Joint Declaration when it appeared in the first draft of the Basic Law, and has remained virtually unchanged in the final version, which was promulgated in 1990. In view of the importance of this concept, it is worth reproducing the six categories of HKPR in the Basic Law: 1. 2.

3. 4.

5.

6.

Chinese citizens born in Hong Kong before or after the establishment of the HKSAR; Chinese citizens who have ordinarily resided in Hong Kong for a continuous period of not less than seven years before or after the establishment of the HKSAR; Persons of Chinese nationality born outside Hong Kong of those residents listed in categories (1) and (2); Persons not of Chinese nationality who have entered Hong Kong with valid travel documents, have ordinarily resided in Hong Kong for a continuous period of not less than seven years and have taken Hong Kong as their place of permanent residence before or after the establishment of the HKSAR; Persons under 21 years of age born in Hong Kong of those residents listed in category (4) before or after the establishment of the HKSAR; and Persons other than those residents listed in categories (1) to (5), who, before the establishment of the HKSAR, had the right of abode in Hong Kong only.

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As the definition of HKPR in Schedule 1 of the Immigration Ordinance did not follow the categories defined in Art 24 of the Basic Law, the Immigration (Amendment) (No 2) Ordinance was enacted by the Provisional Legislative Council on 1 July, replacing the old schedule with a new Schedule 1 so as to bring it in line with the Basic Law.68 In addition, the new Schedule 1 stipulated that for any person who claimed the status of HKPR by descent, it was necessary to show that his parent was a HKPR at the time of his birth. In the meantime, after a short period of economic setback during the Sino-British negotiations over the future of Hong Kong in 1982–84, Hong Kong resumed its economic prosperity, and has since 1984 maintained a continuous growth of GDP for over a decade. Its per capita income was higher than many developed countries in the West, and definitely much higher than that of the Mainland. As a result, Hong Kong remained an attractive destination for those from neighbouring countries who wished to seek economic opportunities or improvement to their livelihood or even to commit crimes. In response, immigration law was strictly enforced; employers who hired illegal immigrants, particularly in construction sites, were prosecuted and heavily punished; illegal immigrants who were convicted of criminal offences were sentenced to imprisonment before they were repatriated. The predominant concern was to keep down the number of migrants, both legal and illegal. The sentiment was best captured by the evidence of an Assistant Director of Immigration:69 Hong Kong is a small land mass with about 7 million people and some of the highest population densities on earth. The policy of its Government with the full support of the Legislature and its residents is one of immigration control… The policy of immigration control recognizes that there are many who wish to enter Hong Kong and to reside and work in Hong Kong. Its relatively high per capita income and living standards make it an attractive destination.

The abolition of the reached base policy in 1980 was successful in curbing the number of illegal immigrants from China. Vietnamese refugees became a more dominant issue in the following two decades. This, however, poses a different issue which will not be covered in this study and will therefore not be discussed here. While the emphasis of immigration control continued to be on those who came to Hong Kong illegally, less attention had been paid to the movement of people in the other direction. Given that about half of the population in Hong Kong was made up of migrants from the Mainland, there was an extensive family network between those in Hong Kong and their families and relatives in the Mainland. The settlement of the future of Hong Kong, the adoption of an open door policy by the

168 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

PRC Government since 1978, and the ease of travel from Hong Kong to the Mainland, contributed to an immensely increased traffic into China. Some people returned to the Mainland for purposes of investment and business; others maintained close family ties with family members in the Mainland, and some returned to get married. The latter was partly due to the sex imbalance between male and female, as those who arrived in Hong Kong illegally in the seventies with a view to finding employment were predominantly male unskilled workers in the lower socio-economic stratum with low education level and they found it difficult to marry Hong Kong women when they were settled in Hong Kong in the eighties.70 The high per capita income in Hong Kong also made it possible for those who made a modest earning in Hong Kong to afford a reasonable living standard in the Mainland. There were also those who kept mistresses in the Mainland. As Kuah-Pearce points out, this phenomenon of having mistresses was not confined to professionals and businessmen but also those from the lower socio-economic stratum including truck drivers and workers. 71 The prevalence of setting up families (or second families) in the Mainland resulted in many children being born, in or out of wedlock, to Hong Kong Permanent Residents (usually fathers) in the Mainland. Under the pre-1997 Immigration Ordinance, these Mainland born children did not enjoy a right of abode in Hong Kong. However, Art 24(3) of the Basic Law provided that children of Chinese nationality born outside Hong Kong of HKPR did have the right of abode in Hong Kong. This clause was taken from the Joint Declaration without much discussion in Hong Kong, and it was unclear why it was included in the Joint Declaration in the first place. It partly reflected the jus sanguinis principle under Chinese nationality law so that the second generation of HKPRs born outside Hong Kong could inherit the status of HKPR. It was also consistent with British nationality law under which British citizenship could be passed on by descent to the second generation born outside the United Kingdom for up to two generations. At the time when the Joint Declaration was negotiated, it was uncommon for Hong Kong people to go to China to set up families. Hence, the clause was probably intended to cover children born of HKPRs outside China, notably in Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom and Australia. When the Basic Law was drafted, the main issue was one of dual nationality. The prospect of Hong Kong returning to the Communist regime in China had prompted many of the middle class and professionals to secure a new nationality. Since the promulgation of the Sino-British Joint Declaration, the rate of emigration had increased exponentially. The figure was 18,989 in 1986 when the drafting of the Basic Law began, and reached 62,000 in 1990 when the Basic Law was promulgated. Within these few years, a total of almost 200,000 people had emigrated.72 In 1989, the British

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 169

Government further introduced a scheme offering full British citizenship to 50,000 key personnel and their families. The worrying feature of this wave of emigration was that the majority of these emigrants were the cream of the Hong Kong community, and the PRC Government was eager to find ways to stop this haemorrhage of talents before 1997. While some of these migrants decided to settle abroad, others intended to acquire the foreign nationality as a form of insurance for themselves and their children, so that if the situation in Hong Kong became intolerable, they had somewhere to go. Once they had satisfied the necessary residential requirements for acquiring a foreign nationality, a significant number of these emigrants returned to Hong Kong, as Hong Kong offered much better economic prospects. Art 24(3) might well intend to ensure that the children of these emigrants could continue to enjoy the right of abode in Hong Kong, thereby luring them and their parents to return to Hong Kong. It was not intended to cover children born to HKPRs in the Mainland, as the problem of HKPRs setting up families in the Mainland had not yet been contemplated.73 As 1997 was approaching, many HKPRs believed or were led to believe that Art 24(3) would supersede the Immigration Ordinance so that their Mainland born children would be able to acquire a right of abode in Hong Kong on 1 July 1997. As a result, shortly before 1997, many of these children came to Hong Kong either illegally or under a two-way permit and then overstayed. A large number of them turned up at the Immigration Department applying for an identity card shortly after 1 July 1997. In fear of a crisis of another major influx of immigrants, the Provisional Legislative Council, on 10 July 1997, enacted the Immigration (Amendment) (No 3) Ordinance, which went through all three readings in one day, introducing, with retrospective effect, a certificate of entitlement scheme. This enactment raised the curtain to a long saga of immigration challenges over the following few years.

The Right of Abode: Whose Right Is It? As noted above, it was only in 1987 that the concept of “Hong Kong Permanent Residents” first appeared in the Immigration Ordinance. It is the nearest equivalent of “citizenship” in the Hong Kong context, and has aptly been described as a “core right”, without which other rights and freedoms associated to citizenship can hardly be enjoyed.74 In the ordinary event, one would imagine that acquisition of citizenship would be governed entirely by the law of the State whose citizenship is acquired. In the Hong Kong context, it would be expected that acquisition of the status of Hong Kong Permanent Resident would be governed by the Hong Kong Immigration Ordinance.

170 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Unfortunately, this has not been the case. Under the Immigration (Amendment) (No 3) Ordinance 1997,75 a person can only establish his status as a Hong Kong Permanent Resident by his holding of, inter alia, a certificate of entitlement, which can only be applied for in the Mainland. However, the certificate is valid only if it has been affixed onto a valid oneway permit. A one-way permit is an exit permit issued by the Exit-Entry Administration of the Public Security Bureau of the PRC for those coming for settlement and is operated within a quota system. In an affidavit filed on behalf of the Director of Immigration, the one-way permit is described as follows:76 …The obtaining of… the one way permit has remained the legal way for residents of the Mainland to exit the Mainland to settle here. The decision to grant one way permits is made by the relevant offices or departments of the BEEA [Exit and Entry Administration Bureau of the Public Security Ministry] at provincial, municipal or county levels. The Immigration Department takes no part in the queuing, the allocation and granting of one way permits, all of which are (and have always been) matters for which the BEEA is unilaterally responsible. In so far as the daily one way permit quota is concerned, although the authorities in the Mainland consult the Hong Kong authorities, the final decision rests with the authorities in the Mainland. In other words, it is not simply a question of the person being entitled to land or settle in Hong Kong under Hong Kong law. But rather, a Mainland resident wishing to land or settle in Hong Kong must satisfy the applicable Mainland laws regarding exit from the PRC as well. (Italics supplied)

Thus, by a stroke of pen, the right of abode is made dependent on a certificate of entitlement, which is only valid if it is affixed onto a valid one-way permit. The right of abode is therefore made dependent on whether one can obtain an exit permit from the Mainland authorities, and this is governed by Mainland law and practice. As the above affidavit shows, the granting of a one-way permit is a matter for which the Mainland authorities are unilaterally responsible; the Hong Kong immigration authority has no role to play at all. Hence it is not surprising that this requirement of possession of an exit permit from the Mainland authorities in order to establish a fundamental right of abode in Hong Kong was struck down by the Court of Final Appeal as unconstitutional. Li C J held:77 Article 24(3) confers the right of abode in unqualified terms on permanent residents. If the argument that art 22(4) qualifies the right of abode in art 24(3) is correct, the right of abode of persons who are undoubtedly permanent residents but who are residing on the Mainland is a most

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 171

precarious one. The Region’s constitution, whilst conferring the constitutional right of abode in the Region on the one hand, would have on the other hand subjected that right to the discretionary control of the Mainland authorities, that discretionary control being beyond the authority of the Region. The control by one way permits would relate to the determination of both the quota as well as allocation within the quota. Further, on this argument, there would be a difference in the constitutional right of abode between on the one hand those in the third category of permanent residents in Article 24(2) who are residents in the Mainland whose right would be qualified by Article 22(4), and those in the same category who are resident outside the Mainland whose right would not be so qualified on the other hand. We cannot accept his argument… The Mainland laws requiring exit approval for Mainland residents coming to Hong Kong of course are and remain fully enforceable on the Mainland. But they cannot provide a constitutional basis for limiting rights conferred by the Basic Law.

Apart from holding that it was unconstitutional to subject the enjoyment of the right of abode in Hong Kong to the successful application of a oneway permit issued by the Mainland authority, the Court further held that no distinction should be drawn between legitimate children and children born out of wedlock.78 In a related case, the Court held that it was not required that the parent had to be a HKPR at the time of the birth of his child in order for the child to claim right of abode in Hong Kong under Art 24 of the Basic Law.79 The court further held, by a majority, that adopted children were excluded from Art 24.80 The HKSAR Government was bewildered. In the following few months, it launched an unprecedented campaign trying to rally public support for its approaching the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress (“NPCSC”) to reverse the judgment of the Court of Final Appeal. The Census and Statistics Department carried out a special survey, the first of its kind ever conducted by the Government, and concluded that as a result of the two judgments of the Court of Final Appeal, 1.6 million persons in the Mainland would become eligible for right of abode in Hong Kong. It was said that their prospective arrival would create unbearable social and economic burdens on the community. The campaign was successful in that it instilled a sense of worry among the general public such that the Government received strong support for inviting the NPCSC to make an interpretation of the Basic Law. This was achieved with a great social price: the campaign fostered a deep-seated prejudice and denigrating attitude towards the new migrants. The community became highly divided, and the independence of the judiciary was cast in doubt.81 The NPCSC restored the requirement of a one-way permit for a valid certificate of entitlement, and the time of birth requirement. It did not,

172 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

however, disturb the decision of the Court of Final Appeal that no distinction should be drawn between legitimate children and children born out of wedlock, or that any retrospective operation of the certificate of entitlement scheme was unconstitutional. Following the Interpretation, on 16 July 1999, the Legislative Council passed a resolution pursuant to section 59A of the Immigration Ordinance to amend Schedule 1, which, among other things, restored the time of birth requirement. On the same date, the Director of Immigration gazetted a new Notice which modified the former system of application for a certificate of entitlement through the Exit-Entry Administration of the Public Security Bureau in the Mainland. Although the modified scheme does not require affixing a one-way permit to the certificate of entitlement, the practical effect is the same. Under the modified scheme, an application for an exit permit to Hong Kong and Macau made to the Exit-Entry Administration of the Public Security Bureau is regarded as an application for a certificate of entitlement. Since the certificate of entitlement could only be applied for in the Mainland, no such certificate would be issued if the Mainland authorities were minded not to grant a one-way permit. Further, as possession of a certificate of entitlement is a pre-requisite to the claim for the right of abode, a person in Hong Kong who enters Hong Kong without a valid one-way permit could not appeal to the Immigration Tribunal against a removal order on the ground that he has the right of abode in Hong Kong. The policy reasons for such a scheme is said to be “to discourage illegal entry into Hong Kong and of illegal stay in Hong Kong in contravention of conditions of stay as well as to prevent the unfairness of queue jumping ahead of the Mainland residents who have applied but have remained in the Mainland”.82 In Lau Kong Yung v Director of Immigration, it was held that the interpretation of the NPCSC was binding on the Hong Kong courts.83 The Court of Final Appeal confirmed that the effect of the NPCSC interpretation was that HKPRs by descent in the Mainland must obtain exit approval from the Mainland authorities and must hold the one-way permit before entry into the HKSAR; that to qualify as a HKPR, either both or one of the parents must be a HKPR at the time of the birth of the claimant; and that this interpretation had effect from 1 July 1997. In that case, removal orders were made against the applicants between the judgment in Ng Ka Ling and the NPCSC’s Interpretation. The applicants argued that at the time when the removal order was made on the basis that they did not have a certificate of entitlement, there was simply no procedure for an application for a certificate of entitlement. The Court of Final Appeal, by a majority, held that the absence of a workable system did not mean that the removal order was invalidly made. It disagreed with the Court of Appeal that in such circumstances the Director should take into account, inter alia, humanitarian

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 173

factors. Instead, it reaffirmed that the Director has no duty to take into account humanitarian grounds, even though he has a discretion to do so. The NPCSC’s Interpretation provides that it “does not affect the right of abode in the HKSAR which has been acquired under the judgment of the Court of Final Appeal”. This raised the question of who those parties were, given that Ng Ka Ling v Director of Immigration and Chan Kam Nga v Director of Immigration were intended to be test cases. On the day when the interpretation was given, the HKSAR Government announced a “concession policy” under which those who were in Hong Kong between 1 July 1997 and 29 January 1999, and who had at the time made a claim for right of abode with the Director of Immigration would not be affected by the Interpretation. About 3,700 persons benefited from this concession policy. There were, however, another 5,000 applicants who claimed that they were entitled to the benefit of the judgment of the Court of Final Appeal or the concession policy. In an important judgment of the Court of Final Appeal on 10 January 2002, the Court of Final Appeal upheld the doctrine of substantive legitimate expectation by holding that those applicants who received (1) a specific pro-forma replies from the Legal Aid Department to the effect that it was unnecessary for them to join existing proceedings or commence fresh proceedings; and (2) a specified letter from the Secretary for Security dated 24 April 1998 where the Immigration Department committed itself to following the final judgment of the courts in dealing with the applications for the certificate of entitlement, had a legitimate expectation that they would be treated in the same way as the applicants in the two test cases and as a result they were entitled to the benefit of the judgment.84 It was further held that the Director had applied too strictly a construction of what constituted a “claim” under the concession policy.85 By the end of December 2002, about 380 persons out of the 5,000 applicants in Ng Siu Tung had benefited from the judgment, with another 200 applicants whose cases involved disputes of facts to be determined by the courts.86 Apart from a few hundred pending appeals, the long legal battles concerning the right of abode under Art 24(3) have more or less come to an end. This is, however, far from saying that the difficulties arising from Art 24 have now been settled. In the first place, the interpretation of the NPCSC was not supported by any reasoning. It referred to a report of the Preparatory Committee adopted on 10 August 1996 as reflecting the legislative intent of Art 24 of the Basic Law. This is hardly convincing, as the Preparatory Committee was not charged with the mandate of interpreting the Basic Law. It is difficult to see how the opinion of such a body that was made six years after the promulgation of the Basic Law could reflect the legislative intent of the Basic Law. It is quite clear that the interpretation of the NPCSC was based on political expediency. As Gladys Li SC eloquently argues, the right

174 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

of abode, and indeed any right in the Basic Law, would become precarious if the interpretation of the Basic Law is not to rest upon common law and common sense.87 In Chong Fung Yuen v Director of Immigration,88 the Court of Final Appeal, in construing the meaning of Art 24(1) of the Basic Law, held that, in the absence of a binding interpretation of the NPCSC, extrinsic material could not affect the interpretation of the Basic Law if the meaning of the language of the provision was clear. The Court was prepared to confine the NPCSC’s interpretation to Art 24(2)(3) of the Basic Law and this interpretation shed no light on the interpretation of Art 24(2)(1) of the Basic Law. Accordingly, it held that a child born in Hong Kong to parents who held two-way permits and were visitors to Hong Kong was nonetheless a HKPR under Article 24(1) of the Basic Law. The NPCSC’s Interpretation also leaves an important constitutional question unanswered. The right of abode is now linked to the one-way permit again. The one-way permit is itself subject to a quota system. The size of the quota is a matter of negotiation between the Central Authority and the HKSAR Government. It stipulates the maximum number of people per day who will be granted a one-way permit and this number can be varied according to changing circumstances. Hence, the number of HKPRs in the Mainland who could exercise the right of abode in Hong Kong is entirely dependent on circumstances beyond the control of the holders of the right. One may wonder whether right of abode is a “right” at all, and if so, whose right is it? Moreover, as the quota is limited, there remains a question of distribution of the limited quota to a large number of applicants. With his vast experience in helping Mainland residents in family reunion, Ho Hei Wah described the “seven deadly sins” of the operation of the oneway permit system.89 There is a lack of transparency and an absence of review mechanism. The system is open to abuse; corrupt practices prevail. There is no centralized application, resulting in huge geographical and regional discrepancies. If a fundamental right protected by the Basic Law is to be made dependent on administrative decision of issuance of an exit permit, the Hong Kong immigration authority will be under a duty, albeit a weak one, to ensure that exit permits are issued rationally and in accordance with law. These issues have to be addressed, and it is an evasion of constitutional duty if the immigration authority leaves the matter entirely in the hands of the Mainland authorities.

A Turning Point: Low Fertility Rate and Low Education Level of New Immigrants A few conclusions can be drawn from the short historical detour above. First, Hong Kong immigration policies were ad hoc and largely shaped by

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 175

external political events. Secondly, immigration policy is almost equated with immigration control. Since 1949, immigration policy has always been concerned with keeping people out. Until recently, it has never been considered in light of the needs and economic development of Hong Kong. As a result, most of the immigrants over the last two decades are lowskilled labourers with low education level. While this pattern of migration served Hong Kong well when low labour costs were required in the sixties and seventies, it increasingly becomes a burden when the economy is transformed to knowledge-based. Apart from economic transformation, the low fertility rate in Hong Kong is another concern. The population growth since 1998 has fallen far below the population forecast: Table 3 Population Forecast in 1998

Population

1996

2001

2006

2011

2016 8,205,000

6,293,000

6,951,000

7,382,000

7,797,000

Annual Growth Rate

2%

1.2%

1.1%

1.0%

Median Age

34

37

39

40

41

Table 4 Actual Population Growth Rate, 1998–2006 Year

Population

Growth Rate

1998

6,544,000

0.8%

1999

6,607,000

1.0%

2000

6,665,000

0.9%

2001

6,724,900

0.9%

2002

6,787,000

0.9%

2003

6,803,000

0.2%

2004

6,882,600

1.2%

2005

6,965,900

0.8%

2006

6,994,500

0.8%

Source: Immigration Services Department, HKSAR, Oct 2006

The years 2003 and 2004 are an aberration and are largely due to the outbreak of SARS in Hong Kong. Nonetheless, the average population growth rate in the last five years is about 0.8%. This is partly due to a sharp decline in fertility rate, which has dropped well below the corresponding figure of a number of developed countries that are known to be of low fertility rate. An immediate impact is the shrinking of the population of school aged children, resulting in a number of controversial decisions to close down some rural primary schools that have not attracted sufficient enrolment.

176 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 5 Fertility Rate, 1981–2001 Year

Hong Kong

Japan

Singapore

United Kingdom

1981

1.93

1.74

1.78

1.80

1986

1.36

1.72

1.43

1.78

1991

1.28

1.53

1.73

1.81

1996

1.16

1.43

1.66

1.72

2001

0.92

1.33

1.41

1.64

The fertility rate in Hong Kong continues to maintain at a low level of 0.939 in 2002, 0.901 in 2003, 0.927 in 2004 and 0.966 in 2005. The figure is even more alarming when one looks at the population composition. Table 6 Population Composition (age) of Hong Kong 1997

2002

2005

Below 15

18%

15%

13.8%

Above 65

10%

11%

12.3%

35

37

39.7

399/1000

381/1000

361/1000

Median Age Dependency Ratio

Source: Immigration Services Department, HKSAR, Oct 2006

The dependency ratio shows the number of unproductive residents (defined as those below 15 and those above 65) in relation to the total population, and gives an indication of the size of economically active force in the community. Although the dependency ratio has dropped from 399/1000 in 1997 to 361/1000 in 2005, suggesting that there is an increase of labour force, a closer analysis shows that the increase in dependency ratio is due to a decline in the proportion of children under 15 which more than offset an increase in the proportion of the elderly generation over the same period. There are various reasons to account for the low fertility rate. Women in general have become more financially independent, which has resulted in a general trend of late marriage or remaining single. There is less social stigma against single women. For married couples, the lack of nursery and child care support could be an inhibiting factor to have children. The economic structure allows little flexibility to cater for married mothers to re-join the labour force (eg. availability of part-time work, years off to allow mothers to return to the work force some years later), and this may serve as a disincentive to give birth to children. While it would be difficult to change the culture towards late marriage, there is certainly room to provide supporting services so as to encourage or facilitate mothers to return to the work force. Indeed, with a population growth rate of less than 1%, there is plenty of scope for promoting population growth, either through birth rate or legal immigration.

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 177

In this regard, the decision of the HKSAR Government to invite the NPCSC to overrule the judgment of the Court of Final Appeal in 1999 was a mistake. In order to justify its decision, the Government started a massive campaign to create a fear against immigrants who would compete with Hong Kong people for jobs and social services. In fact, most of the claimants for a right of abode in Hong Kong are children. They would fill the lacuna of young people resulting from our low fertility rate. Properly educated, they would be a potential pool of talents who could make valuable contribution to Hong Kong. Another adverse outcome of the campaign is that it creates a highly divisive community and sows the seeds of deeply rooted prejudice against new migrants.

Import of Talents: 1998–2006 The HKSAR Government began to appreciate the need to import talents and capital only as late as in 1998. In March 1998, the Government introduced the Business Visit Scheme under which Mainland residents may apply for an exit-entry permit and a business visit endorsement from the Bureau of Exit-Entry Administration of the PRC, or provincial public security bureau offices, to visit Hong Kong. There were different types of business endorsements that allowed single or multiple entry. Visitors were given permission to stay for fourteen days on each landing. In 1999, there were 740 business visitors per day on such visa, which has increased to 7,963 in the first seven months of 2003. Mainland residents are also allowed entry for training purpose. However, the scheme was rather restrictive and on average, only 1,500 to 1,600 training visas were approved per year. Apart from short term visitors and training visa, the Government has also introduced various schemes for importing talents from the Mainland. A Pilot Scheme on the entry of Mainland professionals was introduced in 1994 which was restricted to graduates of 36 top Mainland universities and recruitment was done through designated Mainland agencies. The target was to admit 1,000 professionals within one year. However, only 602 persons were admitted after three years, and the Scheme was discontinued in 1997. In December 1999, the Admission of Talents Scheme was introduced. This was the first formal scheme to admit Mainland residents to come to work in Hong Kong for private enterprises. The Scheme was restricted to certain occupations. The response was far from enthusiastic. By the end of June 2003, there were only a total of 643 successful applications. Most of the successful applicants worked in the field of information technology, telecommunications, engineering, environmental protection and finance. The Scheme was discontinued in 2003.

178 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

In June 2001, the Admission of Mainland Professionals Scheme was introduced to attract qualified Mainland professionals to work in Hong Kong. Again, the response was unsatisfactory. By the end of June 2003, there were only a total of 771 successful applications. The Scheme was also discontinued in 2003. Table 7 Applications for Talents Schemes 2001

2002

2003 Total Applications Received in 2003

Total Applications Approved 2001–03

Admission of Talents Scheme

237

127

279

793

643

Admission of Mainland Professionals Scheme

242

211

318

554

771

One of the reasons for the failure of these two Schemes is that they are devised with and implemented under a rather restrictive immigration control mentality, as a result of which the criteria for admission are stringent and the process rather cumbersome. On 15 July 2003, a new Admission Scheme for Mainland Talents and Professionals was introduced to replace the above two schemes. There is no sectoral restriction or quota on the new Scheme. “Talent” is also widely defined to include those who excel in sports, arts or culture. The successful applicants are permitted to bring their spouses and unmarried dependent children to Hong Kong. They can acquire the right of abode in Hong Kong after completing seven years’ continuous ordinary residence in Hong Kong. The average processing time is reduced to about four weeks. By the end of 2006, a total of 14,155 applications were approved. In contrast, during the same period, a significantly larger number of applicants from other parts of the world other than the Mainland have been granted employment visa. In 2005 alone, 21,119 professionals and persons with technical, administrative or managerial skills from more than 100 countries/territories were admitted for employment. While it is necessary to study the figures in more detail, they do show that the number of talents or professionals imported from the Mainland is increasing steadily over the years and is of increasing significance in Hong Kong since they represent almost 25% of those imported from all over the world.90 Studies elsewhere have shown that the financial gain is highest if talents are recruited at the time of their study. However, in this regard, the education policy in Hong Kong is rather outdated, inward-looking and short-sighted. Despite the fact that Hong Kong prides itself as an international city, the total population of international students of each tertiary university is restricted by the Government to no more than 20% (it was kept at 4% a few years ago). In great contrast to the approach adopted in Australia and the United Kingdom, there is no central policy of actively

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 179

recruiting Mainland or international students. The universities are left to employ their own meagre resources to recruit Mainland or international students. The universities system in Hong Kong is at least on par with most overseas universities and should be attractive to top Mainland graduates, especially if the immigration policy is such that these graduates would be permitted to stay and work in Hong Kong upon graduation and be able to acquire employment visa and the right of abode in Hong Kong after seven years of ordinary residence. Indeed, it was only in August 2001 that Mainland students who have graduated from local Government-funded institutions were allowed, under conditions, to enter Hong Kong for employment. In 2005, 236 Mainland students received approval to enter through this channel. This low figure compares poorly with the large number of Mainland students who study and subsequently stay abroad. Finally, the various investment schemes aiming at attracting investment immigrants have not been very successful either. The Capital Investment Entrant Scheme, which was introduced in October 2003, is open to persons who have no less than $6.5 million of net assets under their control and disposal for investment, and the investment has to fall within certain qualifying investment asset classes such as real estate and specified financial assets. By the end of 2006, a total of 1,910 applications had been received and 978 had been granted formal approval, with a total investment of $6.99 billion.

III. The Discretionary Regime A characteristic feature of the immigration regime in Hong Kong is its discretionary nature. Apart from HKPRs who have the right of abode in Hong Kong and those coming to Hong Kong with a one-way permit, the entry into, stay in and departure from Hong Kong are governed by a discretionary regime. Section 11 of the Immigration Ordinance confers a wide discretion on an immigration officer to permit anyone who does not enjoy the right of abode, or the right to land, in Hong Kong to land in Hong Kong, with or without conditions. Section 13 empowers the Director of Immigration to allow an unlawful entrant to stay in Hong Kong who would otherwise be removed. The discretion also extends to a change of status, notably from a visiting visa to a dependant visa. On the whole, the discretion has been restrictively exercised and is dictated by the prevailing immigration policy. While the Director of Immigration has to exercise his discretion fairly, there is no duty to consider humanitarian grounds, although he may take such grounds into consideration if he thinks it appropriate.91 Taking care of Hong Kong–born

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or Hong Kong resident children and close elderly relatives are not sufficient grounds for exceptional consideration of stay, as there are many similar cases and to do so would frustrate and undermine the policy of immigration control.92 Similarly, while the best interests of the children will always be a relevant consideration and will always be taken into account, it is said that they must be set against the public interest needs of the immigration policy.93 His refusal to exercise his discretion has resulted in many split families. There are many heart-breaking cases in recent immigration history, and a survey of these cases leaves one to wonder whether the term “humanitarian” means anything at all.94 To make things worse, the court has been reluctant to interfere with the decisions of the Director of Immigration or to uphold a duty to give reason on the part of the Director of Immigration,95 even though his decision may have drastic consequences on the person affected and his family members.

Absence of Published Guidelines or Policies These general policies can only be discerned on a piecemeal basis from decided cases. Indeed, major immigration policies were made and changed without any public debate or scrutiny, as witnessed by the abolition of the open door policy in 1974 and the abolition of the reached base policy in 1980. Exceptions to the general policy may be made from time to time, and there are, no doubt, certain internal guidelines on how to exercise the discretion. Yet these guidelines are again not made available to the public.96 As a result, it becomes extremely difficult to scrutinize the decision of the Director or even to ensure that discretion is consistently exercised. T. K. Lai argues that it would be inappropriate to set out definitive criteria for the Director to follow, for “to do so will kindle unwarranted expectation that the person would, as of right, be allowed to remain once the criteria are met and irrespective of how they are met, through artificial construction”.97 On the other hand, blanket discretion encourages arbitrary decisions and is not conducive to ensuring an accountable exercise of statutory power. While discretion is inevitable, the modern trend in administrative law is that a statutory discretionary power can only be exercised in a fair and reasonable manner that can be objectively scrutinized.98 This is simply a manifestation of the rule of law. Unless guidelines on how the discretion is to be exercised are published, it is difficult to see how the exercise of discretion can be objectively assessed and monitored.99 Under section 53 of the Immigration Ordinance, there is a statutory right of appeal against the decision of the Director to the Chief Executive in Council. However, as Philip Dykes SC observes, the practice of the

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Immigration Department is not to advise people of this avenue of appeal. Even if an aggrieved person does lodge an appeal to the Chief Executive in Council, there is no right of hearing before the Chief Executive in Council. The applicant is not even informed of when his appeal would be considered, as the agenda of the Executive Council is classified. Invariably the Director of Immigration or the Secretary for Security will prepare a brief for consideration by the Chief Executive in Council. The applicant is generally not given access to this brief and does not have an opportunity to reply to the allegations made against him.

Failure of Judicial Scrutiny In the absence of other effective appeal channels, the court becomes the only realistic venue that can provide relief against arbitrary exercise of discretion. However, as many critics have pointed out, the courts have in general been too deferential to the Director of Immigration and have been quite reluctant to interfere with the decisions of the Director. In the first place, the courts are prepared to accept readily and without challenge the problems arising from illegal immigration.100 While the court is no doubt entitled to take judicial notice of such social problems, these problems have at times been overstated in individual cases. Thus, Director of Immigration v Chong Fung Yuen is an exception in that the Court was prepared to take a more critical look at the “problems” of allowing the applicants to stay by requesting information as to the number of children born in Hong Kong by visiting parents who have no right of abode in Hong Kong. The number turned out to be 46 children per month, or about 555 children per annum. On the basis of these figures, the Director had to accept that there was no indication that a decision against him would give rise to an immediate influx of persons from the Mainland.101 It is unfortunate that such critical scrutiny has not been made as often as it should have been. Secondly, the nature of judicial review does not permit the courts to substitute their own view on the merits of the decision being challenged.102 Therefore, short of any procedural error, the courts are in general reluctant to interfere with the exercise of discretion by the Director of Immigration, unless he has exceeded the traditional boundary of Wednesbury unreasonableness by exercising his power in bad faith, arbitrarily or perversely. However, the line between Wednesbury unreasonableness, which permits a legitimate judicial interference, and executive autonomy, which denies judicial interference, is extremely fine, and the courts seem to be pushing the line to a point that the discretion is almost practically unfettered. In R v Director of Immigration, ex parte Chan Heung Mui, Litton JA summed up the approach of the court:103

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The Government’s stated policy, since 1980, is that all illegal immigrants should be returned unless there are considered to be strong or powerful humanitarian reasons for doing otherwise in individual cases. The exercise of discretion under s 13 is only made in exceptional cases. How wide this should be is a matter entirely for the judgment of the Director.

And in R v Director of Immigration, ex parte Ho Ming Sai, Godfrey J stated:104 This court has no power to decide whether illegal immigrations, however strong the merits of their case, ought to be allowed to remain here or not. Such a power does exist; but s 13 of the Immigration Ordinance (Cap 115) confers it, exclusively, on the Director of Immigration.

Litton JA further stated in the same case:105 The Director has a very wide discretion under s 13 of the Immigration Ordinance, and it is not for the courts to say how that discretion should be exercised… The Director has clearly much wider considerations to bear in mind, in exercising his discretion under s 13, than the welfare of the applicants. Assuming he had given reasons and had said: “It is generally not my policy to allow illegal immigrants to stay; I see no reason to depart from that policy in this case”, would the applicants be any better off?

And more recently, in Lau Kong Yung v Director of Immigration,106 the Court of Final Appeal held that in relation to an illegal immigrant, the Director has no duty to consider humanitarian grounds in considering the making of a removal order against him, though he can take such grounds into account if he thinks it appropriate. In light of such a “hands-off” approach, the law reports are full of tragic cases where the Court refused to interfere with a removal order. Mok Chi Hung v Director of Immigration provides one stark example.107 In that case, the Applicant mother had been taking care of her daughter since her birth in November 1986. The daughter was subsequently permitted to come to Hong Kong on a one-way permit. The Applicant came to Hong Kong on a two-way permit and overstayed. The marriage was dissolved, and the Applicant was granted custody of her daughter. The social welfare report concluded that the Applicant was without any doubt the proper person to look after her daughter and it was no doubt in the best interest of the child that she be continuously under the care of the mother. The custody order recognized the close attachment of the child to her mother. If the Applicant was removed, there would be no one having any custodial right in Hong Kong over her daughter. Her father was found not to be fit to exercise

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custodial right. The Applicant had lost contact with her sister who used to look after her daughter. The Applicant had previously applied for a oneway permit and was rejected three times. The court described the facts as “stark”, but notwithstanding the sympathetic attitude of the court, it concluded that the decision to make a removal order was not Wednesbury unreasonable in light of the immigration policy. Cheung J (as he then was) concluded: The result in this case is a particularly stark one. However, the discretion to remove someone who has no right in Hong Kong or allow her to stay is one that ultimately lies with the Director and not with the Court. In considering the case of Madam Mok, the Director had regarded the position of the daughter. This is not an easy decision to make but, at the end of the day, I am not satisfied that, having considered the stated policy on illegal immigration, the decision is so irrational that it has to be quashed. This is an area in which the Court in exercising its supervisory jurisdiction should not interfere. This is, again, like some of the immigration cases that came before the Court, where the Court finds it to be extremely uncomfortable with the decision under challenge because no matter how one looks at it, it produces extremely harsh results. An infant child with the right to stay in Hong Kong will be left here without the care of her mother who was granted custody of the infant.

It is particularly disturbing that the court found the case to be “extremely harsh no matter how one looks at it”, and “was extremely uncomfortable with the decision” as it offends the court’s sense of fairness and justice, and yet the court sees no judicial remedy and is reluctant to cross that imaginary boundary of Wednesbury unreasonableness. Similar sentiments have been expressed by many judges.108 In Chan Kam Nga v Director of Immigration, Nazareth VP suggested that a split family was “far more likely to be the action of the permanent resident parent acquiring a family outside Hong Kong, or migrating to Hong Kong without his family”.109 Likewise, Chan CJHC (as he then was) took the view that such hardship was self-induced. His learned judge remarked that “family is split by choice when a person comes to Hong Kong leaving his family behind. In such a case, that person has a choice to return to China to reunite with his family”.110 This view overlooked that in the majority of cases, it was the mother who was removed, leaving behind all her children in Hong Kong. It would be too harsh to say that the children should go back with the mother to the Mainland, when these children are themselves Hong Kong Permanent Residents and have the right of abode in Hong Kong. Moreover, these children would be deprived of parental care at a time when such care is most needed. Kuah-Pearce has documented the

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problems of splitting a normal family into two sub-family structures, and noted the problems faced by the children, who have to cope with the perennial absence of one and sometimes two parents.111 Moreover, as Liu argues, the voluntary nature of a separation between the father and the child does not absolve the State from its duty to facilitate reunion.112 The State’s obligation to family union is not dependent on the behaviour of the individual: innocent children should not be made to suffer for the rest of their lives by a decision of their parent over which they took no part at all. The position adopted by the courts can perhaps be justified by the doctrine of separation of powers. After all, it is wrong for the courts to interfere with policy making. Yet by adopting the traditional high threshold of Wednesbury unreasonableness, the courts allow their sense of justice to be shaped and dictated by administrative policy and have rendered the notion of Wednesbury unreasonableness almost meaningless. A removal order has far-reaching implications and drastic consequences for all members of the family, particular minor children who need parental care most and who are the victims of something for which they are not responsible. The “hands-off” approach is difficult to reconcile with the constitutional principle that where statutory power is conferred, the intention of the legislature is that the decision-makers should be accountable to the courts if their decisions are unreasonable, procedurally unfair or tainted with illegality. It is a failing on the part of the court to admit on the one hand such an affront to justice and on the other an almost absolute discretionary power with no duty to consider basic humanity. As Bokhary PJ said in his powerful dissenting judgment in Lau Kong Yung v Director of Immigration, the discretionary power of the Director must only be exercised in light of the nature of society where we reside.113 He said:114 In Hong Kong where we aspire to be humane as well as orderly, it is plain that the Director would have been duty-bound at least to read the applications to see if they or any one or more of them disclosed a strong and obvious case for a favourable exercise on humanitarian grounds of his discretion. By a “strong” case, I mean one which stands out even among so many other cases deserving sympathy. By an “obvious” case, I mean one where the material facts are clear or easily verifiable.

An Appeal Tribunal against the Exercise of Discretion If the courts are not the appropriate forum to review the merits of a removal order, justice demands that there should be another forum to review the merits.

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Insofar as a removal order is concerned, there is a right of appeal to the Immigration Tribunal under section 53A of the Immigration Ordinance. The appeal is limited in scope in that the Applicant has to show that he has the right of abode or a right to land in Hong Kong, failing to show either of which causes the appeal to be dismissed as a matter of law. The Immigration Tribunal does not have jurisdiction to hear appeals generally against an exercise of discretion of the Director of Immigration, particularly cases in which the Director refuses to exercise his discretion under section 13 on humanitarian grounds. As the Chief Justice held:115 It is not for the Tribunal to enquire as to whether or not there are humanitarian grounds, which the Director should consider, nor to make any recommendations to the Director in that regard. Whether or not a person is ultimately to be repatriated is a matter within the discretion of the Director who, no doubt, in practice, takes into account such humanitarian grounds as he considers merit consideration.

There is no shortage of judicial outcry for an appeal tribunal to determine an appeal against the discretionary decisions of the Director of Immigration.116 This was steadfastly opposed by the Government. T. K. Lai defends the Government’s position in this way:117 It has been suggested that an appeal tribunal be established to determine an appeal against the Director’s exercise of discretion under section 13. To do so would simply shift the responsibility for exercising this discretionary power from one party to another when the test remains a subjective evaluation of individual circumstances with the result that the party making the final decision being less likely to be familiar with the problems involved. Experience from other jurisdictions suggests that these appeal systems would delay a final determination of cases and create an incentive to appeal if only to delay removal. As far as resources are concerned, it will double the efforts without inspiring additional confidence in the system. This is similar to the situation where many appellants of unfavourable section 11 decisions continue to seek judicial review after failure in the petitions to the Chief Executive-in-Council.

The difficulty in this line of reasoning is that it is almost suggesting that the Director of Immigration should have a monopoly of justice, as he knows best. It is speculative whether the existence of an appeal system would “double the efforts”, as applicants do rush to the court for leave to apply for judicial review and sometimes make an application for habeas corpus. The existence of a separate appeal system which deals with merits of removal orders may well discourage desperate applications for judicial review which will not entertain arguments on merits. Godfrey J has made a

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strong rebuttal in R v Director of Immigration, ex parte Chan Heung Mui, highlighting the potential conflict of duties on the part of the Director:118 Of course, there is no one better placed than the Director of Immigration to administer the immigration policy of the Hong Kong Government; and no one knows better the problems involved. But to give exclusively to the person, whose duty it is to keep illegal immigrants out, the power to decide whether, in exceptional cases, to let them in, is not the best way of maintaining a fair balance between the interests of the individual, on the one hand, and the interests of good government on the other hand. Under the present arrangements, the Director of Immigration, no matter how diligently and fairly he seeks to discharge his duties, is placed in a very difficult position. The solution to the problem might lie in an amendment to the Immigration Ordinance giving a person, against whom a removal order is made, a right of appeal to the Governor-in-Council. No doubt careful consideration would have to be given to the formulation of the amendment: a discretion to temper justice with mercy needs to be confined within pretty narrow limits, to ensure consistency over what is really not a justiciable issue at all, but a moral issue. This problem has been resolved in New Zealand and, we were told, elsewhere. In New Zealand, the legislation provides a right of appeal to the Minister of Immigration, on whom is conferred power to order that the appellant be not deported if the Minister is satisfied that, because of exceptional circumstances of a humanitarian nature, it would be unduly harsh or unjust to deport the appellant. Since this does seem to work, it might afford a useful precedent. (emphasis added)

IV. The Socio-Economic-Political Dimension Having considered who has a right of abode in Hong Kong and how the discretionary regime operates in relation to illegal immigrants, this section explores the policies and treatment meted out to new migrants who are permitted to stay in Hong Kong. There is in general a lack of information about the new migrants. This leads to misunderstanding and prejudice, which in turn breeds hostility and discrimination. For instance, it has been a popular belief that migrants from the Mainland are poorly educated with little resources. They come to Hong Kong and take up social welfare that would otherwise be available to Hong Kong residents. They compete with Hong Kong residents for jobs, and are discontent and hostile to the majority of the community and the Government. Various labels have been fastened to these new migrants, and migrant children who have attained very good public examination results are regarded as exceptional and hence it deserves to be made news headlines.

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A few studies show that these stereotypes of migrants are misconceived. Dr. Ernest Chui, relying on the statistics of the Social Welfare Department, found that new migrants represented only about 9.6% of the recipients of Comprehensive Social Security Assistance, and concluded that the public perception of the new immigrants being economically unproductive and hence heavily relying on social security was unwarranted.119 Similarly, Dr. Chow found that most new migrants were reluctant to use existing social resources, and were very strongly motivated to be a success.120 Dr. Robert Chung, in tracking the political attitude of the new arrivals, came to a similar conclusion.121 It was found that the new arrivals were in general quite complacent with the local government. They have more faith in the local government than the locally born, and are not aggressive towards the local government, despite the contrary being portrayed by the local media. To a large extent the Government has to take the blame for such prejudicial stereotypes. In Ng Ka Ling v Director of Immigration,122 the Court of Final Appeal held that children born in the Mainland to parents, one of whom is a Hong Kong Permanent Resident, do have the right of abode in Hong Kong, and that their right of abode is not dependent on whether they can obtain a one-way permit. The Government took exception of three main issues, namely, the de-linking between one-way permits and the certificate of entitlement, the requirement of one of the parents having HKPR status at time of birth of their children, and the eligibility of children born out of wedlock. On the certificate of entitlement scheme, while the Court upheld the legality of a certificate of entitlement, it ruled unconstitutional the requirement that a certificate of entitlement must be affixed to a one-way permit. On the issue of the time of birth requirement, the Court ruled that permanent resident status was not determined at the time of birth so that the status could be acquired by a child whose parent subsequently acquired right of abode in Hong Kong. On the illegitimacy issue, the Court ruled that children born out of wedlock to a father who was a permanent resident were eligible for right of abode. Having lost at the Court of Final Appeal on these issues, the Government decided, in a very controversial move, to ask the NPCSC to give an interpretation of Article 24 of the Basic Law with a view to reversing the decision of the Court of Final Appeal. The legal difficulty was that, apart from judicial referral under Article 158 of the Basic Law, there was no express procedure for referring a question of interpretation of the Basic Law by the Government to the NPCSC. Article 158(3) provided for a judicial referral, but the Court of Final Appeal had already decided that the conditions for judicial referral under Article 158(3) were not satisfied and it was therefore not required to refer to the NPCSC the question of interpretation of the Basic Law. The political problem was that the request

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was perceived (and rightly so) to be an invitation for an interference with a final judgment of the Hong Kong court and hence put “one country, two systems” and the independence of the judiciary in jeopardy. In order to justify the request, especially in anticipation of very strong and powerful opposition from the legal profession, the Government needed strong public support for its decision. For a continuous period of a few months, the Government launched a massive media campaign that if the Court of Final Appeal decision were allowed to stand, over 1.675 million people in the Mainland would have a right of abode in Hong Kong. Their arrival would seriously strain housing, education, medical services, social welfare, employment situation, employment services, vocational training and retraining, transport and environment, let alone municipal, recreational, sports and arts facilities, public services and security.123 Taxpayers would accordingly have to shoulder a capital expenditure of $710 billion in ten years, and the recurrent expenditure of various services would reach $33 billion annually by the tenth year. 124 Apart from the huge financial implications, the more alarming message was that these services, including housing, education, medical services and social welfare, could only be provided at the expense of the local population. This threatening message, targeting the lower socio-economic sector, was made repeatedly by the Government.125 Not everyone was convinced by these alarming messages. The Government was accused of selective disclosure of information and publication of grossly exaggerated figures based on questionable assumptions in order to create a sense of panic and prejudice. A joint statement made by four human rights organizations said:126 In an attempt to reinforce the sense of crisis, an estimated HK$108.3 billions is said to be required to build five hospitals, 100 schools, and 180,000 public housing units on the basis that an initial 690,000 “immigrants” will arrive in Hong Kong within the next three years. It is also said that if all the economically active among them (said to be 480,000) became unemployed, they would push up the rate of unemployment to 17.8%. The scenario that all 690,000 will arrive in Hong Kong within the next three years, will all of them be unemployed, will all of them require public housing, and will all of them be dependent on public assistance is clearly unrealistic. Meanwhile, the government said that information on how many of those eligible intended to come will not be disclosed. All of these suggest that the government is manipulating figures in order to instill in the public the perception that there is a huge and insoluble problem and that the only possible solution is to have the CFA judgment effectively overturned.

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Apart from the unlikely scenario that all those people who enjoy the right of abode in Hong Kong will come to Hong Kong at the same time, Hong Kong has indeed throughout its history proved to be able to absorb large influxes of migrants. Just between 1978 and 1980 when the reached base policy was abolished, a total of 383,900 illegal immigrants had reached base and were absorbed into the community when Hong Kong was less affluent.127 Nonetheless, the Government’s overwhelming propaganda was very successful in stirring up fear and panic among local people that their housing, social security, employment, medical services and education would be seriously undermined by the arrival of the new migrants. The Government managed to obtain the mandate from the Provisional Legislative Council to request the NPCSC to give an interpretation of Article 24, which the NPCSC did. The interpretation effectively reversed the judgment of the Court of Final Appeal. By this time, the prejudice that new migrants are a social burden had become deep-seated among local people. The alleged crisis of an influx of migrants was subdued, but the community has paid a heavy social price of having a highly divisive society with strong prejudice against new migrants from the Mainland. Apart from the right of abode saga, Dr. Ernest Chui argues that government policies have not been as helpful to the new arrivals as they should have been. In some cases the policies are discriminatory against the new migrants. For instance, new migrants are denied equal access to public housing. A seven-year residential requirement was imposed in the 1980s so as to exclude the new migrants from the Mainland to apply for public housing, or to prevent “queue jumping”. Such exclusion also serves a wider government objective. Instead of being a kind of welfare, housing serves the dual objectives of providing a stabilized community and boosting the private property market. By excluding the new migrants from public housing, this would ease the demand for public housing and make it easier to restrict supply, thereby encouraging or forcing both the existing tenants of public housing and the new migrants to shift to the private sector to satisfy their housing needs. The result is that new migrants are concentrated in low-income and dilapidated urban areas. Some have to rent or purchase illegal rooftop structures and suffer double jeopardy — they become ineligible for public housing because they owned “property”, and yet they are provided no compensation when the illegal rooftop structures are demolished by the Government! In other cases, while there is no deliberate decision to disadvantage the new migrants, the way the policies are perceived or implemented puts the new migrants effectively in a disadvantageous position. In terms of social welfare, the new migrants are wrongly perceived to be economically unproductive and welfare dependent when indeed only a small percentage

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of new migrants are recipients of CSSA. This general public perception in turn deters the new migrants from applying for social welfare. On the other hand, when the new migrants attempt to find employment, they are exploited in terms of wages and working conditions.128 While the Social Welfare Department provides some tailor-made programmes to enhance their integration with the community, these programmes are perceived by the local people as a “privilege” conferred on the new migrants. Local people are led to believe that such privilege is made at the expense of welfare services available to them. Thus, instead of enhancing integration of the new migrants with the community, such well-intended programmes have ironically provoked among local people further resentment against the new migrants. These policies have created an environment of social exclusion. While exclusion of migrants by the host community is a common phenomenon around the world, such exclusion is usually based on ethnic grounds. It is rare that migrants are excluded when both the migrants and the host population share a common history, common ancestry, common culture and common language, 129 and when many of the host population are themselves migrants from the same country. Dr. Chui attributes this phenomenon to a superior Hong Kong identity and an anti-China sentiment. Economic success in the last few decades has cultivated a sense of “Hongkongness”, particularly among the generations that are locally born.130 Dr. Kuah-Pearce observes that the Hong Kong population has developed a distinct way of life, a different value system, a different outlook propelled by the capitalist system, and a distinct Hong Kong identity. In contrast, Mainland Chinese are perceived to be “backward, experiencing material poverty and lacking the sophistication of a modern metropolis”.131 In this regard, Dr. Robert Chung also detected a marked difference in terms of cultural identity between the new arrivals and the locally born population.132 Not surprisingly, the new arrivals show a strong affiliation to the cultural identity of being Chinese and less so as “Hongkongers”, whereas the locally born identify themselves more as “Hongkongers” than as “Chinese”. The “Hong Kong identity” is ahistorical in that Chinese nationalism and nationalistic sentiments have been actively discouraged by the British government. Many Hong Kong people regard themselves more as Hong Kong belongers than Chinese nationals. The resentment or fear of Communism and the Communist regime on the Mainland, either as a result of personal history of those who fled from the Mainland or as a result of colonial education, further reinforces Hong Kong as an entity separate from Mainland China. Having been subject to British colonial rule for over 150 years, Mainland Chinese, new immigrants from China, are regarded by locals as “aliens” or “outsiders”. The tension becomes particularly intense

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when these migrants are perceived to be undermining the benefits (social welfare, education, medical services etc.) that the local population has been enjoying or has contributed through the tax system through many years of hard labour. The exclusion is thus both economically and cultural identity based. In such a socio-economic-political environment, it is not surprising that immigration law and policies tend to be restrictive and exclusive. New migrants are ignored, marginalized, exploited, despised, and even discriminated. There are piecemeal attempts to help new migrants from the Mainland settle in Hong Kong, but there is no attempt to formulate an integrated and positive approach to deal with them. In this regard, “new migrants” may not be an appropriate term. It is important to recognize that migrants from the Mainland are a heterogeneous group. Some young migrants from the better-off parts of Guangdong province who have been subject to popular Hong Kong culture for years through television and other mass media may have little difficulty in adjusting to the social values and environment in Hong Kong, whereas some other migrants continue to be disadvantaged years after they have migrated to Hong Kong simply because they could be easily identified by their accent. The needs of different groups of migrants have to be taken into consideration in formulating any policy. At the same time, as Kuah-Pearce points out in her study, the current policy has resulted in many single-parent families in Hong Kong and the Mainland. The split-family phenomenon has a particularly adverse impact on children, who may one day come to Hong Kong as HKPRs. The social cost that Hong Kong has to pay eventually will be immense. Lam and Liu argued that if the Mainland-born children were to be admitted into Hong Kong eventually, it is better to allow them to receive education in Hong Kong earlier rather than late, as this will help them integrate better into the community and bring higher economic returns to both the individuals and the society.133 They also pointed out that the population in Hong Kong has been ageing and the fertility rate is among the world’s lowest. Hence, Hong Kong needs a substantial immigrant flow to maintain its population, its labour force and its economic growth.134 Accordingly, they argued that family reunion should be the primary objective of immigration policy, and admission of skilled manpower should be a secondary objective. In the latter case, they argued that the best way to import skilled manpower is indeed to allow Mainland students who have graduated from local universities in Hong Kong to stay and work in Hong Kong.135 Unfortunately, the University Grants Committee imposed a quota of overseas students on each university and this quota necessarily restricts the number of Mainland students who can be admitted to the undergraduate

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programmes. The rationale for the quota is that foreign students should not be entitled to the highly subsidized tuition fees. This is an extremely short-sighted policy. In the first place, it is arguable whether Mainland students should be regarded as “foreign students”. Secondly, the concern of government subsidy is usually met by setting different tuition fees for foreign students than by limiting the number of foreign students. The current approach is also incompatible with the international outlook of Hong Kong. Thirdly, as Lam and Liu observed, the economic return of training Mainland students is higher than importing skilled labourers or professionals, as they tend to understand the community better, have a stronger sense of commitment, and may even raise the academic standard of some universities. The dynamics began to change in the latter part of the nineties when Hong Kong was hard hit by the Asian financial crisis and experienced a deflationary economy. At the same time, China had a booming economy notwithstanding depression in many Western countries. As a result, many Hong Kong people now go northward for both entertainment and employment. Mainland colleges and universities have begun to recruit students from Hong Kong. The most obvious change is that while visitors speaking Putonghua received cold treatment in many local shops in the early nineties, Chinese visitors have become the strongest support to tourism and the consumer market in Hong Kong since 2002. Some of the labels that were used to describe Mainlanders in the nineties have gradually disappeared. On the whole, the community has become more receptive to Mainland visitors, although incidents of discrimination and hostile treatment are still regularly reported. As Hong Kong is developing into a knowledge-based economy, it finds that it has to tap into the talents in the Mainland. By the turn of the century, the Government had responded to pressure from the business and commercial sectors to attract Mainland talents to enhance Hong Kong’s competitiveness in the globalized market, and Mainland investors and tourists to boost the weak economy of Hong Kong.136 The attempt, however, was rather half-hearted, as the administration could not shred off the exclusion mentality inherent in the immigration policies in the last few decades. An obvious example is the hurdles for bringing in spouse or children to settle in Hong Kong. As a result, import of talents schemes were devised with many built-in hurdles and restrictions. Not surprisingly, neither the Admission of Talents Scheme introduced in 1999 nor the Admission of Mainland Professionals Scheme introduced in 2001 has met with much success because of their restrictive nature. They were replaced by a more liberal and aggressive Admission of Mainland Talent Scheme in July 2003. A Quality Migrant Admission scheme to attract talented people

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from the Mainland and overseas to settle in Hong Kong was introduced only in June 2006.

V. Towards a Proactive Immigration Policy For the last 150 years, immigration policies have always been passive and reactive. In the last few decades, the predominant concern of immigration policies is to keep down the number of migrants from the Mainland. There has been no attempt to relate immigration policies to the social or economic development of Hong Kong. As a result, most of the migrants over the last two decades were low-skilled with low education levels. While this pattern of migration was helpful when low labour costs were required in the 1960s and 1970s, it has increasingly become a burden when the economy becomes knowledge-based. The community is now paying the price: the quality of the labour force cannot keep up with the change in economy. It is too late to turn the clock back. At the same time, in view of the declining birth rate and the ageing population in Hong Kong,137 young migrant children could well play an important role in Hong Kong’s economy in the years to come. The Government is moving into this direction, as many of the migrants under the existing daily quota of 150 persons per day (or 54,750 migrants per year) are young children. They should be seen as our social investment and be provided with proper education. As they will come to Hong Kong eventually, it is better to integrate them into the community as soon as possible, and preferably even before they come to Hong Kong. Education apart, parental care is essential to the proper bringing up of young children. The split-family phenomenon has and is likely to continue to create many social problems in future if it is not tackled now. Immigration policies do not exist in isolation. Orderly migration is only one aspect. It is necessary to co-ordinate a comprehensive range of supporting services which comprises housing, medical and health care and education, social welfare, education, community services, language training, and so on. More importantly, it is imperative on the part of the Government to eliminate prejudice and discrimination against the migrants and to provide an environment where every citizen enjoys equal opportunities. With appropriate policies and proper education, training and opportunities, these new migrants may well become valuable assets rather than a burden to the community. In terms of human resources management, it is important to shred the restrictive immigration control mentality. It is necessary for Hong Kong to attract talents from overseas in order to sustain its economic growth. Immigration policies should be formulated in such a way as to facilitate the

194 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

import of talents. Targets and priorities should be clearly set. While the existing schemes are much more liberal than their predecessors, there is still considerable scope for expanding the efforts in attracting talents from the Mainland. In this regard, “talents” should be broadly defined so that they are not confined to those with strong academic credentials. At the same time, talents would only be attracted to Hong Kong if Hong Kong can offer the experience of a cosmopolitan city, not only in terms of financial reward, but also in terms of culture, environment, social diversity, freedom of speech and information, and efficient and effective governance. The task of importing talents cannot be achieved simply by changes in immigration policies without at the same time reviewing every aspect of the community. It is clear that a passive approach is no longer able to cope with the demands arising from the rapidly changing socio-economic development in Hong Kong and the complex web of human relations between the two sides of the borders. Immigration policies are not and should not be regarded as the same as immigration control. It is necessary to formulate a comprehensive, positive and proactive immigration policy that can meet the needs and hence facilitate the growth of Hong Kong. It should embody not only population control, but also important values such as family reunion, humanitarianism, equality and fairness. It has to address fundamental questions such as what kind of community we want to have: do we want a divided, status-conscious community full of split families, or do we want to have a harmonious and fair society that respects equal opportunity and fundamental human rights without any distinction?

VI. Recommendations Various recommendations with policy implications can be drawn up from this study: 1. There is an urgent need to formulate comprehensive, positive and proactive immigration policies that take into account the human resources needs and the change of demography of Hong Kong. Until recently, immigration policies are ad hoc, defensive and piecemeal in nature. Their implementation is imbued with discretion, the exercise of which is heavily influenced by a restrictive and inward-looking immigration control mentality. 2. Immigration policies should be based not solely on economic and political considerations, but also on moral and humanitarian concerns. As a humane society that adheres to the rule of law, any immigration policy should respect fundamental rights of the people of Hong Kong.

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 195

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

The policies should be widely consulted and publicly debated. Hong Kong is probably unique in that there has not been any public consultation or debate on immigration policies in the past even when such policies affect the future of the territory and the lives of many people. A White Paper on Immigration Policy should be prepared and published for public consultation. It will be controversial, but then the outcome would be more acceptable to the community than policies formulated without public participation. With a population growth rate of less than 1%, there is plenty of room to promote population growth. As immigration accounts for over 60% of population growth, there is sufficient scope for planning and attracting talents from outside Hong Kong. It is necessary for Hong Kong to attract talents from overseas, and in particular, from the Mainland, in order to sustain its economic growth. In this regard, “talents” should be broadly defined so that they are not confined to those with strong academic credentials. In terms of attracting talents from outside Hong Kong, it is important to shred the restrictive immigration control mentality. Immigration policies should be formulated in such a way as to facilitate the import of talents, such as by offering an opportunity to acquire rights of abode in Hong Kong for themselves and their family members. Targets and priorities should be clearly set. There should also be greater flexibility in issuing short-term permits and multiple visas to facilitate exchange and training of staff in all sectors. At the same time, talents would only be attracted to Hong Kong if Hong Kong can offer the experience of a cosmopolitan city, not only in terms of financial reward, but also in terms of culture, environment, education for dependent children, social diversity, and efficient and effective governance. The economic return is highest if overseas talents are attracted to Hong Kong to do undergraduate studies. They would have a better understanding of Hong Kong, and the chance of their staying in and contributing to Hong Kong is much greater than transient visitors or imported talents and professionals. The Government and the University Grants Committee should abolish the restriction on admission of overseas students to tertiary institutions. Proactive steps should be taken to recruit good quality Mainland students and elsewhere to receiving their tertiary education in Hong Kong. There is a case for a concerted effort by the Government to promote and export tertiary education in Hong Kong, a policy which has apparently been adopted and vigorously pursued by the Australian and the British Governments.

196 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

8.

Systematic studies on the profile of new migrants should be carried out in order to assist the formulation of immigration policies. In this regard, it is important to adhere to the principle of equal opportunity in the distribution of social resources. Existing housing, social welfare, education and social service programmes should be reviewed so that there is no direct or indirect discrimination against the new migrants. It is important to acknowledge that there is a social obligation to provide sufficient initial assistance in terms of housing, language training, social networking and education for the new migrants. At the same time, it should be positively recognized that new migrants from the Mainland form an important part of the community who can make positive contributions to the well being of the community. They should not be portrayed as a burden to the community. Positive steps should be taken to eliminate labels, prejudice and discrimination against these new migrants, and to integrate them into the community as full and equal members.

Re-gaining Control on Who Can Enter and Settle in Hong Kong 9.

In order to have any meaningful immigration policies, Hong Kong should retain the authority to decide who should be permitted to settle in Hong Kong in accordance with its own policies and needs and should not be dictated by authorities outside Hong Kong on whether exit permits are issued. Any application to come to and settle in Hong Kong should be supported by sufficient documentary evidence whose authenticity and reliability should be determined by the Hong Kong authority. The exit permit system is a historical remnant that was introduced as a measure of retaliation in 1950 when the British Hong Kong Government introduced a quota system to restrict the number of Mainland residents entering into Hong Kong. When Hong Kong became part of China in 1997, there was no longer any justification for entry into Hong Kong not to be decided by the Hong Kong immigration authority alone. In light of Article 22 of the Basic Law, it may be that the Central Government should retain the authority to decide on the size of the quota, but it should be for the Hong Kong authority to decide who should be permitted to enter Hong Kong in light of its own needs and priority. Applications to come to Hong Kong for settlement should be made directly to the Hong Kong immigration authority. If the local government of Shenzhen Special Economic Zone can decide on its own who can enter and settle in Shenzhen, there is no reason why the same system cannot apply to the HKSAR. As this is

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 197

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

vital to any immigration policy, the HKSAR Government should begin negotiation with the Central Government on this matter immediately. Clear policies should be formulated after wide consultation and public debate to determine the priority of different categories of applicants to come to Hong Kong and to ensure appropriate resources are allocated accordingly. Applications shall be considered on a family basis rather than on an individual basis. Minor children separated from both parents should be given priority to come to Hong Kong. Family reunion shall be a prime objective in the immigration policy. The history of our immigration law is filled with pages of heart-breaking cases. Many families are separated by ill-considered and rigidly enforced immigration law and policies. Young children are forcibly separated from their parents at a time when parental care is most needed. They are made victims of acts of which they are entirely innocent. Family reunion should be achieved within a realistic time frame. Imported talents and professionals should operate outside the quota system so as to maintain flexibility. The terms for importing talents and professionals from the Mainland should be the same as those from overseas countries. Before the HKSAR Government regains the authority to approve applications for settlement in Hong Kong, steps should be taken to improve transparency in the operation of the one-way permit system in respect of geographical distribution and regional discrepancies, as well as the process and the approximate waiting period. Applications for and approval of one-way permit should be centralized. Complaint mechanism should be set up to address corrupt and unfair practices in issuing one-way permit. Applications for one-way permits should be determined on the basis of a family and not on an individual basis. Pending long-term resolution of the problem of family reunion, shortterm measures should be introduced to alleviate long separation between family members, particularly minor children deprived of parental care at a time when such parental care is crucial to their physical, emotional and mental development. Such short-term measures may include issuance of multiple visiting visas or two-way permits.

On Immigration Law 15. A review of the Immigration Ordinance should be conducted to reconcile the internal conflicts among different provisions and to set out clear requirements for acquiring permanent resident status. Acquisition of fundamental rights such as the right of abode should be

198 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

16.

17.

18.

19. 20.

clearly defined in law and should not be dependent on prevailing policies. The Director of Immigration should be required to consider humanitarian grounds in exercising his or her discretion to refuse a person to enter or remain in Hong Kong. Guidelines on how the discretion of the Director of Immigration is to be exercised should be published. Such guidelines should be laid before the Legislative Council for discussion and approval. The Immigration Ordinance should be amended to provide for a statutory duty to give reasons for the decisions of the Director of Immigration in refusing entry into or permission to stay in Hong Kong. Legislative amendment should be introduced to lay down a general principle that aliens are equally entitled to the protection of due process. An independent tribunal to hear appeals against the exclusion or removal of any person not having the right of abode or the right to land in Hong Kong should be established.

On Social Integration 21. Integration works in both directions. While it is important to help new migrants to integrate into the community, steps should also be taken to enable local people to have better understanding and appreciation of the cultural background and strength of the new migrants. To be a truly international city, it is necessary to inculcate among its citizens a sense of receptiveness of and an appreciation for foreign culture. 22. It is necessary to revisit the concept of “new migrants” and to identify their needs clearly. “New migrants” is not a homogeneous group and may have quite different needs. Some young new migrants from the more developed parts of Guangdong Province may find it easier to integrate into the Hong Kong community as they have been exposed to Hong Kong’s culture and values through the mass media while they are in the Mainland. In contrast, some “migrants” who have settled in Hong Kong for years are still subject to discrimination and prejudicial treatment as they can still be readily recognized by their accent. They may be living in very restrictive social circles and feeling socially isolated. One possible way to assist them in establishing a new social network is to tap to the existing social networks at community level, particularly tongxianghui or kaifong associations. 23. A particular area of priority is to provide a co-ordinated language programme which covers both Cantonese and traditional Chinese characters. Communication is the first step to any integration

Immigration Policies and Human Resources Planning 199

programme, and inability to communicate will only deepen the sense of isolation and insecurity. 24. It is worthwhile to consider whether integration programmes could be introduced on the Mainland to prepare those who are on the queue for a one-way permit to better adapt to the life in Hong Kong. 25. Comprehensive services should be provided on: (1) Family life education; (2) Socialization programmes; (3) Self help and parallel groups; (4) More organized family activities; (5) Empowerment and enhancement of the strength of the new migrants. Immigration is always a controversial issue, especially when resources are limited and vested interests are perceived to be threatened. The issue would not become less controversial by keeping it away from the public. Instead, without public discussions and debates, immigration policies would be clouded by prejudice and ill-informed judgments, and this may result in greater social costs to be paid in future. The time has come that it is better to openly debate these issues than to leave it to governmental officials to formulate policies in an uninformed manner and perpetuate sufferings of a vulnerable group. A White Paper on Immigration Policies is imperative. Immigration policies involve a kind of social and human investment. Properly planned, the new migrants could, as they have done in the past, play an important role in building up our community at a time when the community is ageing and the fertility rate continues to fall. The positive aspects of migrants have never come out properly or adequately in any public debates. The current mood of the community is in general more receptive to Mainland visitors. The Government should make use of such opportunity to eradicate unfair prejudice and develop positive and proactive immigration policy. At the same time, immigration policies should be formulated to serve the economic growth and social needs of the community. The strength of Hong Kong lies in its outward-looking attitude and its readiness to compete in the most vigorous environment. A restrictive and inward-looking immigration policy is hardly conducive to the long-term growth of Hong Kong.

7

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation Janet Salaff, Angela Shik, and Arent Greve*

Transnational Ties: The Economy or Social Relations? Transnational ties and social relations must not be presumed but rather carefully analysed, and structural as well as cultural aspects must be introduced in this analysis. (Dahinder 2005)

Hong Kong’s reversion to China in 1997 was an historically unique political event which spun off dramatic issues, among which were unusual patterns of migration, the topic of this chapter. As political arrangements were being made for reversion of Britain’s most economically prosperous colony to underdeveloped communist China, large numbers of middle class and business families emigrated.1 Hong Kong became Canada’s main immigrant source, and an important source for Australia and the United States as well (Facts and Figures 2000; Skeldon 1994b; Skeldon 1994a; US Citizenship and Immigration Services 2001). Their large numbers and compressed arrival dramatically changed the character of the cities in which they settled. In

*

Hayes Tang did valuable research work. Dr. Wen Hong Chen and Hong Kong Baptist University students gave excellent feedback. Angela Shik is Post Doctoral Fellow in the Department of Sociology, University of Toronto. Arent Greve works at the Department of Strategy and Management, Norwegian School of Economics and Business Administration. We thank China Review for permission to republish this paper, which has appeared in a different version in Vol. 8. No. 1, Spring 2008.

202 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Toronto, our study site, they transformed entire suburbs into Cantonesespeaking districts, with stores that served them which had close personal and commercial ties to Hong Kong for products (Luk 2007). Their many reasons for leaving Hong Kong ranged from the uncertain future of their jobs, professions, and their habitual lifestyle, to political concerns over their families’ security, and on to the hope for a better life abroad. Despite assurances that their lives would remain “unchanged for 50 years” after reversion to China, none knew what the future would bring. One unique feature was the long time frame, from inking the agreement in 1984 to the event itself in 1997, which gave Hong Kong residents time to mull over their actions. Suddenly, China’s crackdown on protesters in the June 4, 1989 Tiananmen incident sparked a huge emigrant wave. Many had worked hard to build up their family economy, and had been reluctant to impoverish their families by leaving. Now they left, still reluctantly, under pressure (Skeldon 1994b). Subsequently, with the realization that they faced difficulties in finding good jobs or opening new businesses in Toronto, Sydney, and other places of refuge, yet another issue emerged: should they stay? Many reassessed permanent migration, and large numbers became transnational migrants. Even before Hong Kong’s retrocession to China, an estimated one-third of Hong Kong’s first-wave emigrants returned from Canada (Aydemir and Robinson 2005) (see Figures 1, 2). They would have the best of both worlds, taking advantage of new opportunities for their children’s education and comfortable home surroundings for their family abroad, while keeping their jobs in Hong Kong. In Chinese parlance, they were astronauts. Many immigrants maintain ongoing personal or organizational relations both with their country of origin and their adopted country. Observers coined the terms transnational migrants to refer to people with jobs, family, ongoing communications and activities in two nations (Glick-Schiller 1999; Pessar and Mahler 2003). This phenomenon has manifested for Hong Kongers to such an extent that they use their own term — astronauts — which refers to migrants, usually the husband, who holds a job in Hong Kong, and has part of his family in Canada or other places. The children that are left abroad on their own while their parents return to Hong Kong are termed parachute children. Yet another definition would be helpful here — the 1.5 generation of immigrants, whether with their family or as parachute kids, as children or early teenagers. In distinction from their parents who were brought up in their home culture, the 1.5 generation experienced and mastered two cultures. The term highlights their adaptation experiences and language ability which enable them to work within their home and adopted cultures. (Hurh 1990; Kim et al. 2003; Park 1999).

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 203 Figure 1 Immigration to Canada from Hong Kong, males aged 25–45, 1980–1996 Number of individuals 900 800 700 600 500 400 300 200 100 0 1980

1982

1984

1986

1988

1990

1992

1994

1996

1998

Source: Aydemir & Robinson, 2005

Figure 2 How Many Stayed in Canada? Survival rate 1.0

0.9

0.8

0.7

0.6

0.5

0.4 0

2

4

6

8

10

Hong Kong

Africa

Years since arrival Europe

North America

Asia w/o Hong Kong

Discrete proportional survival rate by source region Source: Aydemir & Robinson, 2005

204 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Ten years after Hong Kong’s retrocession to China, we explore the return of the 1.5 generation to Hong Kong. Although Hong Kong’s transnational parents have made news and a number of studies has been written about them, the lives of their children today have not received as much attention. One reason for the limited research on these children of transnational adults is that they have just come of age. In the case of those in our study, they are now making decisions about where to call home. Now, it is timely to ask: what has happened to the parachute children who left Hong Kong on the eve of Hong Kong’s reversion to China? (Orellana et al. 2001; Pe-Pua et al. 1998; Pessar 1999; Smith 2006). Have they remained in their adopted home? Returned to Hong Kong? Become transnationals like their parents?

Three Sets of Factors Affect the Choice of Migration Three sets of factors affect the migration journey of these 1.5 immigrant youths we study: 1. Large scale institutional, or macro-level, economic and legal factors. Key is their labour market position in Canada versus Hong Kong, and employers’ perceptions of their credentials and talents. Are Canadian employers prejudiced against them (Reitz 2001)? Do the Hong Kong employers favour their Western credentials (Waters 2001)? Transnational institutional links between Hong Kong and the West also enable ease of recruitment of Hong Kong youths from Canada abroad. Alternatively, they may consider job opportunities and the chance to advance better in Toronto. A key issue is whether they go to where their Canadian education is most honoured, or to jobs where their social networks take them (Granovetter 1974). 2. Intermediary relations, referred to as meso-level factors, which include the migrants’ social networks and the organizations in which they participate. The many parents who returned to Hong Kong as astronauts left them as parachute kids. Now, having achieved their education, many honour filial obligations to their parents to return to their side. There are also ties to loved ones, partnerships they formed while in Canada which may exert pulls on them to stay or return. Indeed, a key issue is: do parents or lovers prevail in their decision-making to remain abroad or return to Hong Kong? 3. Identities at the personal, micro-level. Hong Kongers form a substantial body of visible immigrants in Toronto. Does their ability to maintain

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 205

their Hong Kong Chinese identity in Toronto ease their return to Hong Kong or keep them in Canada (Ooka 2007)? Ethnic segmentation and Canadian multicultural policies ease retention of their mother language. They are likely to have meaningful ties to peers of their background in Toronto (Rodríguez-García 2006). Dual, or hyphenated, identities are encouraged: “We are Hong Kong–Chinese–Canadians” is a common refrain. On the other hand, having spent their adolescence in Canada, they feel special pulls to its hyphenated lifestyle and people. There are also cultural issues: how they imagine the return to Hong Kong and the mixed reactions they face on their return. (Chan and Lee 2007; Sussman 2004; Ong 1999; Pessar and Mahler 2003). The focus of this chapter is how these issues enter into the migration decisions of twenty-four young people who left Hong Kong for Canada with their parents on the eve of Hong Kong’s return to China. While it might be too early to track their achievements, it is not premature to examine their intentions, even if they should later revise their plans. We shall term them transnationals, returnees or stayers, depending on their decisions at the point of study. We first present our data and methods, then we discuss each level of analysis while presenting the results.

Our Data This paper draws on two longitudinal studies: Shik (2003) and Salaff et al. (2007). The twenty-four young adults who comprise our study population arrived in Toronto between the ages of twelve to nineteen. All migrated from Hong Kong to Toronto on the eve of the reversion to China. All had some schooling in Hong Kong and some in Canada. Their parents are all middle class — lower-middle to upper-middle — the vast majority business people. Although all migrated as families, in fact, some of their parents returned to Hong Kong, while the youths attended school in Canada. These are the subjects of our study. Our research is exploratory, the information we collected was drawn from qualitative, discussion-type interviews and naturalistic observations. Over the years, we recorded what they have studied, where they have worked, and their views about living in Canada and Hong Kong. We quote what they told us and their names are pseudonyms. In the first study, Shik interviewed seventeen young Hong Kong migrants in Toronto in 1996. Her sample was drawn via snowball sampling (i.e., one participant tells others about the study, who then get in contact with the researchers) via the Toronto Chinese Methodist Church. She conducted lengthy interviews on

206 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

the topic of their social and psychological identity, and did naturalistic observations in their peer groups. She then re-interviewed sixteen of the original interviewees between 2003 and 2006 in Toronto and Hong Kong after they had entered the workforce. In the second study, eight respondents were followed by Salaff et al. from 1992 to 2006. Some of these youth were an initial part of a 1991 survey conducted with their parents in Hong Kong. Others were obtained by snowball sampling with those families who participated in the 1991 survey. In 2006, the twenty-four youths comprising our combined sample ranged from unmarried adults in the first year of college to married adults in their early thirties. There were six sets of siblings in the sample. They all studied some high school in Canada, but received their pre-secondary education in Hong Kong. All speak English fluently. All but one have, or are in the process of studying for, Bachelor degrees. Our twenty-four respondents studied in a wide range of fields including: health care; economics; insurance; computer repairs and internet; business services (marketing, sales, and accounting); hospitality and tourism; visual art and photography. Additionally, some had work experience. The youth and their parents live divided lives. Their lives are divided by place as well as by identity. Many parents were “astronauts” for a period of time, leaving their family in Canada and working in Hong Kong. Several parents are now divorced and live in different countries. Twenty of the twenty-four youths have at least one parent living in, or with businesses in, Hong Kong today. They visited their parents in Hong Kong as young adults. All have Canadian citizenship, but all have the right to work in Hong Kong by virtue of having been born there. In crucial ways, all cultivate aspects of both Canadian and Chinese culture. Of the twenty-four youths in the sample, nine have returned to Hong Kong. Six frequently raise the possibility of their return to Hong Kong, expressing confidence that someday they will do so. One wants to return, but her fiancé does not want to leave Toronto. Ong (1999) calls this being transnational in their imagination. Six have no plans to return. Only two of the nine in Hong Kong do not have one or both parents there; of those six wanting to return to Hong Kong, only one has both parents in Toronto. None of the six with no plans to return has parents in Hong Kong, one has a sister there, and another’s parents live in Toronto, but they also have a residence in Hong Kong. (See Tables 1, 2). This study population presents an excellent case for us to assess the factors leading such young immigrants to stay in Canada or to return to their place of origin. Are they, like their reluctant emigrant parents, eager to pursue Hong Kong’s economic opportunities? Or are Canadian opportunities more compelling? Do their social relations pull them to Hong

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 207

Kong, or bind them to Canada? How do their identities affect their sense of a homeland? In response to these questions, we turn to the ways in which macro-, meso-, and micro-level factors affect what they call home.

Macro-Structural Factors That Encourage Return Macro factors encourage the 1.5 generation’s return to Hong Kong, starting with their legal right to enter as residents and to work, economic demand, and what they bring to the Hong Kong and Canadian labour markets in terms of perceived human capital. Macro-level factors like these are the contexts within which many make their decision to return, whether permanently or temporarily. Many of the parents had intended to settle in Canada, but were excluded from jobs. They faced a racial and gendered glass ceiling, encountered recessions, unemployment, and lack of recognition of their skills. Their careers stalled and their return to, or continued work in Asia appeared more attractive (Aydemir and Robinson 2005; Mak 1997). And although Hong Kong immigrants have built an ethnic economy in Canada, this sector does not offer high-level jobs that suit their skills and experience (Li 2001b; Li 2001a). On their part, these 1.5 immigrant generation youths, who are born in Hong Kong, hold Hong Kong identity cards as well as Canadian passports. They are eligible for jobs in both places (Lam 2000; Pessar and Mahler 2003). With local credentials, they may suffer less from overt exclusion in Canada than their parents (Li 2001b). Apart from legal requirements, the many possible work opportunities, due to the expansion of the service sector in Hong Kong, attract them. Growth in personal, financial, and corporate services has increased demand for post-secondary educated workers. Just across the border, where China is building an infrastructure and expanding professional opportunities in many directions, skilled returnees are even more in demand (Zweig et al. 2005). The globalization of economies means that the occupations for which they trained in Canada can also be found in Hong Kong, and many have trained in North America for positions that are also in demand in Hong Kong. Further, human capital is socially defined, and credentials earned in Canada are attractive to Hong Kong employers. The actual content of their education or experience abroad may not differ from the home-grown variety, but may be seen to be superior by Hong Kong employers (Waters 2000; Weiss 1995).

208 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Even so, the apparent similarity of degrees, work places, and experiences vary by profession and cannot be taken for granted. Social definition of occupations also means that each profession in Hong Kong and Canada has its own rules, heritage, and local practices, all of which affect work conditions. There is often some basis to the valuing of the foreign credential. Migrants are in a position to combine resources from abroad and home, especially in the case of workers in the knowledge sectors (Saxenian 2002; Zweig et al. 2005). These workers can link networks in one location to those in another, also referred to as filling “structural holes” (Burt 1992). They may launch projects that are familiar in Canada, yet new and innovative outside their home context. They find new applications for existing ideas in a new location. Some master a technology, training, or way of doing things, that while familiar in Canada, is uncommon in Hong Kong. On the other hand, in order to maintain their degrees, networks, and international projects, they may need repeated returns to Canada. In addition to foreign credentials and content of education, one of the main contributions to the transnational capital possessed by these youth is language facility. Having left Hong Kong for Canada as teenagers, they are bilingual in Cantonese and English. Important in many Hong Kong work environments, this language ability gives them an employment advantage both in Hong Kong and in Greater China. Their ability to work in Chinese and English in Hong Kong appeals to them, especially as this skill is rarely valued in North America, where their accented English may even be held against them (Pendakur and Pendakur 1998).2 In Canada, being bilingual is an asset only for those who use Cantonese in jobs directed towards their co-ethnics, but many do not want to be shunted into the ethnic economy.3 On the other hand, bilingualism creates a challenge. Those who used English as their working language in Canada face a dilemma in Hong Kong: which language are they best equipped to use in the Hong Kong office? Language maintenance takes a great deal of work. In order to maintain dual language facility, they may decide to return to Canada to work for spells. This can also contribute to short term stays in Canada. For example, Amy had a Bachelor of Science in Psychology from the University of Toronto and a Masters of Education from England. She found a job teaching high school English at one of the most prestigious secondary schools in Hong Kong. Her English skills, not particularly valued in Toronto, gave her an advantage in Hong Kong. Several took positions in regional headquarters of large multinational firms located in Hong Kong, where their bilingualism and familiarity with Western lifestyles give them an edge in employment over Hong Kong locals or expatriate outsiders. Such opportunities to work in sizeable

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 209

expanding headquarters were not available in Toronto, where their bilingualism may actually be seen as a liability rather than an asset. Heather, with a BA in English Literature and Sociology from York University, lived in Toronto from age twelve to twenty-three. In 2003, she and her husband took jobs teaching English in China. Then, ready to raise her family, they moved to Hong Kong, where she is working in public relations and marketing for a Proctor and Gamble subsidiary. Upon their return to Hong Kong, the younger generation sought to overcome the outsider status that they may have been labelled with. In most cases their efforts to prove themselves, in combination with the fact that they came from Hong Kong originally and have family in Hong Kong, should engender trust (Kramer 1999). Their socially accepted backgrounds allow firms to view them as “insiders”, and lead to their employers’ assumption that they will fit, at least partially, into Hong Kong organizations. Their position in a known system affects their ability to achieve in Hong Kong as returnees. Their achievements need to be recognized, and personal ties form the context in which they can return and gain recognition. On the other hand, most were hired in entry-level jobs, with lower pay and longer work hours than in Canada. Many parents of those in our sample had their own business in Hong Kong, but in very few cases did they incorporate the going-abroad youth back into the family firm. Sons may have been encouraged to pursue higher education abroad so that they would return to take over the family firm; however, it was not easy to do so. For some of these youth, the experience of living abroad distanced them from their family obligations, and required particular effort on the part of their parents to bring them back. Tom, with a Bachelor of Commerce, was expected to take over his family umbrella factory in Hong Kong and South China after graduation. He had chosen his field of study with that intent. As graduation loomed, Tom dreamed of avoiding that obligation. He rarely attended classes. He set up his own short-lived company, following his passion of racing cars. A car accident and ultimately a showdown with his parents led him to retreat. He buckled down, passed his courses, and returned to lead the firm. In fact, few business families expected a direct input from their children in the firm. Some (a jewellery designer, a cabinet maker) had built businesses based on their own skills, which they could not transfer to a child. Elic received a technical education that could have given him a place in his father’s firm, which used computers to co-ordinate transportation and delivery services. However, claiming he lacked his father’s social networks, Elic hesitated to return to Hong Kong to become part of the family business. Ultimately, Elic believed that he could not easily craft the social relations necessary to become an asset to the family business:

210 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

I’ve been away eight years. I don’t know my way around. Father’s contacts there won’t treat me as an equal. And he’s in authority, what he says goes. I’d be spending my time socializing with Father. There’s no point, all I’d get is a free lunch. I won’t be able to learn anything. It’s better to stay here. Maybe later on, I may return as a computer advisor. (Elic Chou, Diploma Computer Science)

Thus, even for those youths whose parents might have educated them with the intention of returning to a family business, the consequences of having split their youth into two worlds was not easy to overcome. More respondents reported satisfactory work experiences in Canada rather than blocked careers, although both were in evidence. But it was not only lack of advancement in Canada that drove them to return to Hong Kong. Hong Kong opportunities appealed to them for a number of other reasons. For example, the opportunity to use skills that would be considered unique or special in Hong Kong impacted the decision of some returned youth. Nancy, with a BSc in Physiotherapy found her skills and training were prized by Hong Kong agencies. In Canada, she felt she could not make much of a contribution through her job, but her Canadian credentials are considered unique in Hong Kong. While she was still in Canada, she was recruited to a large Hong Kong hospital: It was quite a coincidence! I submitted an application and it just happened that there was an annual recruitment from the Hong Kong Hospital Authority and they asked me to apply for it, and after a month they asked me to have an interview in Hong Kong. (Nancy Chow, BSc Physiotherapy)

Nancy thinks Canadian returnees in her field of physiotherapy get hired quite easily in Hong Kong because they have a wide range of skills, they are “more proactive”, and they work better in a team setting. Nancy told us that it is easy for most returnees to find jobs in Hong Kong: You know, because of all the different opportunities in Hong Kong, it is quite easy for any returnee to find a job in Hong Kong, as long as you are not picky. My friends come back and look for postings in the newspaper. I will say it will not take longer than two months for any returnee to get a job in Hong Kong. Once you get your first job, you will have income and experience, will be able to meet people to establish networks, which could lead to another more suitable job. So usually, a returnee will not stay in the first job for very long. It is not uncommon to see returnees changing jobs rather frequently after they returned to Hong Kong. It’s called “stabilizing the horse while riding the ox”.

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 211

Despite her overseas recruitment, however, and the ease with which most returnees find work, Nancy had mixed views of work in Hong Kong agencies. They offered her jobs with lower salaries and longer work hours than those in Canada, and she had a hard time getting a job that she liked: I didn’t know the physiotherapy market in Hong Kong. I learned, for most, it was quite hard to find a job. There are about 150 local graduates yearly. In the year I applied, they only hired around 20, and they wanted to give preference to the local graduates. I was lucky to be hired. (Nancy, BSc Physiotherapy)

Although Nancy stated “they wanted to give preference to the local graduates. I was lucky to be hired”, it appeared that she was in fact favoured, since she got the job — surely her foreign credential gave her an edge. Most respondents recognized that they could not simply walk into a job that they liked in Hong Kong. Thus, they are trying to improve their chances in Hong Kong by getting work experience in Toronto first. Nevertheless, many confidently expect they can transfer this transnational capital to Hong Kong. For example, Nancy’s brother, Robert, has a BA in Graphic Design from Ontario College of Art and Design. The advertising field appealed to him, yet he knew it would be risky to find a job in Hong Kong without any work experience. He hoped to find work in Canada that would give him experience and pay off some of his school loan before he returned to Hong Kong. Knowing that his first job in Hong Kong would start at the bottom, and that his income wouldn’t be high enough to pay off his loans, he strategically sent his portfolio to advertising-related companies in Toronto that had branches in Hong Kong. His plan, if successful, should lead him to parlay his experience to a related job in Hong Kong. In Nancy’s case, she has changed jobs several times since her initial recruitment to the hospital, most recently to a clinic for seniors in a community centre: There is only one physiotherapist, myself, in the centre. I have to work together with social workers, nurses, and doctors. It is like a medical team caring for the seniors. After my three months’ probation, the social worker who discussed my performance with me was surprised. A lot of seniors had remembered me … and also called to the centre and said that I was helpful. The social worker said that this doesn’t happen often because many seniors don’t have good memories. They seldom call the centre and thank a particular nurse.

Despite such positive feedback, Nancy has ultimately been disappointed in her work conditions, with a heavy caseload and wages on the low side.

212 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Her after-tax earnings ended up the same as in Canada. The need to return to Canada to upgrade her credentials became an opportunity to re-evaluate her return to Hong Kong: Overall Hong Kong is good for me, except my career. The field of physiotherapy has more prospects in Canada. Usually the jobs in Hong Kong are by contract, so you won’t find a permanent job. I wish to find a job that I can learn from and be happy. As for career goals, I am thinking whether I will go back (to Canada) and study more. Maybe after one or two years, I will see which direction … The working environment, opportunity, and benefits are better in Canada. There is demand in Hong Kong. However, the Hospital Authority doesn’t have enough money. Although Canada as a country has an economic debt, health care is better funded. So it is better in Canada. So every time I change my job, I think of trying to go back to Canada.

Transnational youth such as Nancy are likely to be more mobile than those who have never emigrated at all, and their continued stay in Hong Kong cannot be taken for granted. Although her work in Hong Kong gave Nancy a feeling of being of real use, something she feared she would not get in Canada, she felt it was harder to build a career there. She has returned once to Canada to take an exam in her field. As a consequence, her upgraded qualifications have increased the demand for her in Hong Kong. At the same time, the return gave her a chance to explore the Canadian job market once more. However, Nancy’s fiancé has recently moved to Hong Kong. Nancy remarked that ultimately it was her fiancé’s insistence on staying in Hong Kong which propelled her to remain. His return ties her there more than any job can. Nancy’s fiancé justified his own return in terms of opportunity costs. Nancy comments: He graduated with a degree in IT. He thinks if he returns to Hong Kong, he will definitely find a good IT job. But he also thinks if he stays in Canada, he may find a good IT job, too. So, after he has calculated the opportunity costs, he concluded it is much more economical for him to return to Hong Kong. He came back in 1998, right after his graduation. At that time the economy wasn’t that great after the stock market crash in October of 1997. However, he managed to find a job in Hong Kong quite fast. He is still working in the same field now.

The opportunity to use a unique skill may not be the same as job satisfaction. The comparison of jobs held and familiarity with fields in the two locales may result in explorations of a return to Canada. Nothing is sure for transnational migrants.

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 213

In sum, a number of factors influence the youths’ return. Multiple paths and events that are not controllable give them more choices: hence, they negotiate and balance options over their return to Hong Kong.

Meso-Level Factors: Social Structures That Nancy’s love relationship cemented her return to Hong Kong leads us to the meso-level, the intermediary connections formed with those with whom our case studies have meaningful relations and who have an influence on them. Key among these are friends and loved ones whose whereabouts affect our respondents’ relocation. Finally, the meso-level includes churches and other civic associations in which the youths make meaningful friendships. All these interpersonal factors affect their decision to stay or return.

Family, Networks, and Interactions Important in our understanding of transnational migration is how these youths incorporate themselves simultaneously within and across borders (Pessar and Mahler 2003). Chain migration, whereby people emigrate to specific locations following others in their social networks has been studied both with respect to the initial foray of those leaving home for a new place and return migration as a network (Massey 1990; Salaff et al. 1999; Smith 2006). The Hong Kong Chinese family has been called “instrumental” and “flexible” (Lau 1982; Ong 1999; Waters 2001). Such a view turns on the complementary division of roles and an accepted system of authority. Parents plan the members’ futures to help the family as a whole survive and achieve. The family may accumulate investment capital with the members’ input. Or it may send children abroad to gain cultural capital. To say that the transnational emigrant families in our study are part of the movement of the larger Chinese diaspora suggests that their family has designs for them. But often their moves are negotiated, and appear to occur by chance. The fact that his sister, Nancy, moved out of the home to marry, let her brother Robert take over the spare bedroom. Nevertheless, these negotiated outcomes are more than random. Family ties are central in their return. Their father’s residence plays a major role in the children’s own residence decisions. Tables 1 and 2 reveal these patterns. Even during their time in Canada, their strong Hong Kong ties led to return visits. Our respondents arrived in Canada as teenagers, and by the time they finished university most already had been back to Hong Kong for short visits. These were often family visits. Since many had family in

214 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger? Table 1 Children’s residence by Parents’ residence Parents’ residence

Children’s residence Hong Kong Toronto

Total

Hong Kong Split Toronto

5 3 1

5 2 8

10 5 9

Total

9

15

24

Likelihood ratio, ChiSquare = 4.83, p = 0.087

Table 2 Desired residence for children by Parents’ residence Parents’ residence

Children’s wanted residence Hong Kong Split Toronto

Total

Hong Kong Split Toronto

9 4 2

0 1 0

0 0 7

10 5 9

Total

15

1

7

23

Likelihood ratio, ChiSquare = 21.21, p < 0.001

Hong Kong, the return was not unexpected, but it underlies the importance of their transnational ties. Having kin in Hong Kong enables them to visit without great cost. By cost, we not only refer to expense but also to commitment. Their first visits are often brief, on a holiday, but a temporary stay can lead to more committed relations. Once they return, they discover hidden resources in Hong Kong upon which they can build. Finding people open to them, some considered taking a job. Those who retain their personal ties in the home society have an easier time returning and getting positions through those who know them or know about them. Within Hong Kong, these social networks also created a web of belonging distinguishing insiders from outsiders, which figured into decisions to return and reintegrate. For example, social networks in Hong Kong may include weaker ties to those who have only heard of the youths, and yet even such indirect ties may link them to jobs. Moreover, social networks within Hong Kong may help the youth’s return in more practical ways. For example, returning to and remaining in Hong Kong is costly, and these costs are factored into the youth’s residency decisions. Among the more prohibitive costs are those of housing in Hong Kong, which is not only expensive, but very hard to find. Having parents or kin with whom they can live may be motivation to return. Some delayed their return until housing opened up. Although he was sure he would return to Hong Kong, Robert was hesitating, since he had to start from

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 215

scratch. He would have to do everything at once, and his parents’ place in Hong Kong was very small. But his younger sister, Nancy, was getting married in early December and would move out. Also his parents would soon retire, and they planned to go to Canada.4 Would his parents keep the flat, or sell it and use the money to live a retired life? Robert said the flat was negative equity, so they wouldn’t get money if they sold it. He was strongly considering whether he should live in the flat and pay the mortgage. In that way, he would share expenses with his parents. However, others do not wish to share. Married returnees are likely to be unaccustomed to living with in-laws and regret their lack of choice. Still others do not have a place to live, which can encumber their return. The impetus to return builds over the life cycle (Smith 2006). Heather returned to Hong Kong a year after her marriage to a Hong Konger she met at York University in Toronto. Her family had returned the year before, leaving her with no kin in Canada. She first got a job in China teaching English, and is now working in a Proctor and Gamble subsidiary in Hong Kong: I decided to go back to Hong Kong because my career did not seem like it’s going to excel. In Hong Kong, I do well as I can speak and write and listen in English, Cantonese, and Mandarin. (Heather, BA English Literature and Sociology)

But it was not just her career — she also wanted a family. After her first child was born, interaction with her family increased. She got her mother’s help with her infant. Heather’s mother said: Our mother-daughter relationship has improved since Heather had her baby. Now she understands how difficult it is to become a mother. I think most daughters will start to appreciate their mothers after giving birth.

According to Heather: We [Heather and her husband] are young, and there are different things we want to try out. We didn’t want to stay in Toronto and settle there. We have plans to have kids, and before that we wish to venture out and see what is out there. We first went to China to teach English [in 2003]. We did not have any definite plans, we just knew we wanted to return. We think one of the key reasons which allow people like us to return is whether they have a “home” in Hong Kong. Both our families have already moved back to Hong Kong.

216 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

Friendships and Social Networks Most youths had little say in the decision to move to Canada in the first place. Most were told suddenly that their family would leave, and few had ever been to Canada before their “landing”. Although they arrived with siblings, they left behind their friends, and many were initially quite lonely. Many found solace in the Cantonese-language church in Toronto, which became a central point of their Toronto lives. There they encountered people who were socially similar, and whose support helped them through their settlement problems. They often struck up friendships with other children of divided families, other parachute kids. Thus, during a decade of residing and completing their education in Toronto, they formed close friendships. As we demonstrate below, the residency decisions of such close others have a direct impact on their own decisions. The more likely their friends are to discuss a return to Hong Kong, or to actually return, the more likely respondents are to think they should follow suit. In fact, spouses or fiancés influenced half our respondents to return to Hong Kong. Since they mainly dated Hong Kong Chinese in Canada, their plans to return took into account the wishes of their future partners (Rodríguez and Egea 2006). The motivation to return was often mixed, as seen for Bill, who graduated with a Bachelor in Environmental Science from the University of Toronto. Bill had trouble finding work in his field and considered a move back to Hong Kong. As the only son in his family, he wanted to be able to provide for his parents and to be with them. He felt torn about remaining in Toronto. After a series of aimless part-time sales positions while he was at university, he found a full-time sales job in a furniture store after graduating. He described it as a good job. His sister, however, characterized it as working in a warehouse. Ultimately, he opted to return to Hong Kong to satisfy what he believes to be the wishes of his girlfriend who, as a visa student, must return to Hong Kong. His jobs in Toronto were not promising enough to give him reason to remain behind, while his important networks were in Hong Kong: My girlfriend is a visa-student from Hong Kong, and her family is there. I know she would want to return to Hong Kong when she completes her studies at the University of Toronto. I would like to return to Hong Kong to find a job before she graduates, so that we could settle faster when she comes. (Bill, BSc Environmental Science)

His sister Karen, on the other hand, remained in Toronto, where she found a place for herself in her field. About her brother, she said:

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 217

We [Karen and her parents] are pretty worried about Bill. We don’t know what he is planning to do with his future. Mom and dad are hoping Bill will find a better job instead of working in a warehouse, having to move stuff all the time. This is hard labour. We really don’t know what he is thinking. We hope he can find a better job. (Karen, BSc Economics, Diploma in Pastry Making)

Hoping to find a better job and be able to provide for his parents and satisfy his girlfriend’s desire to return to Hong Kong, Bill returned to Hong Kong in 2006. There also is a social comparison effect. The more members of the 1.5 generation who are like them, and who cross borders and return home, the more likely they will want to do so as well. In addition to those they know personally who return, migrants follow others they hear about and recognize. Those they do not know personally, but who hold structurally similar positions, become role models. They set the stage and are part of the “bandwagon” that causes emigrants to become returnees (Salaff et al. 2007, Ch. 1). Transnational migrating youths believe there is a “bandwagon” of returnees, whether or not the facts back them up. Those who returned to Hong Kong said, “Ninety percent of my Toronto friends have returned”, or “Everyone I know in Hong Kong is a returnee”. This is part of the bandwagon effect, the core of which revolves around social networks. As shown here, some of these networks were forged in Canada, while other networks existed in Hong Kong. With Hong Kong as their end point, they functioned to draw the youths back to Hong Kong. Ultimately, however, social ties will not necessarily keep these transnational migrants who return permanently to Hong Kong. They have experienced two cultures, and often have in their minds the idea of sampling both; a return to Canada may be part of future plans. For example, even though Amy (BSc Psychology) chose to return to Hong Kong, she said she might return to Canada in the future, after she has children, because Canada has a better environment and a better education system for children than Hong Kong.

Churches and Campus Ministries The importance of churches for new immigrants has been well documented (Chai 1998). Most of the youths in this sample have ties to specific Chinese churches and participate in youth fellowships. For those whose closest friends and partners belong to their church, these interpersonal factors affect their decision to stay or return.

218 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

The church acts as one of the main channels where immigrant youths meet new friends with similar backgrounds. Many new immigrants were brought to church fellowships by their friends, or they may be approached by campus ministry workers. Some transferred ministries from Hong Kong. As a place where immigrant youths felt they would be accepted, the church became one of the most important sources of emotional support and social networking while these youths were adapting to a new country. Karen and her brother lived with their aunt, uncle, and cousin, but in Karen’s case, church friends gave her the most help in her integration into Toronto: The time before I went to university was a difficult time for me, because at that time I was afraid that I couldn’t enter university. I finished Form 6 and one semester of Form 7 and I thought that I could go to university when I came here. However, I couldn’t enter university and had to study in high school again. And so I felt my future was lost. (My friend) brought me to the church … There were some people who were around the same age or one or two years older than me. They told me their experience, how they had struggled, and these experiences could comfort me. (Karen, BSc Economics, and Diploma in Pastry Making)

Some of these youths become very involved in church and campus ministries. They would even rely on their ministries to decide whether to stay or return. Some youths may choose to stay in Canada because they felt a strong sense of belonging to their church. Or they may choose to return because they felt a need to continue their ministry in Hong Kong. In many cases, the church and campus ministries are one of the key factors influencing the youths’ decisions to return to Hong Kong or remain in Canada.

Micro-Level Factors: Culture and Identity The micro-setting refers to the youth’s identity as Chinese living abroad, and their accounting of how they came to live abroad, which in turn affects their re-migration goals. Others’ views of people like them also affect their identities. Bridging several societies creates identities that can prompt them to return. Their special context, that of migrants of reluctant immigrant parents, contributes to the creation of a double identity. As those who migrated when they were children or adolescents, they experienced two cultures. The term 1.5 generation highlights their adaptation experiences and language ability which enable them to work within their home and adopted cultures (Hurh 1990; Kim et al. 2003; Park 1999).

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 219

Social ties influence people’s identities. As noted, the youths we met all live in a Hong Kong–Chinese social world in Toronto. Their friends, close associates in church, and finally their partners, come from the same sub-ethnic group. This is common for young adult Chinese in Canada (Ooka 2002; Hiller and Chow 2005; Rodríguez-García 2006). Their imaginings about life in Hong Kong are greatly influenced by the media and those they know (Ong 1999). Those who maintain ties to others from the same cultural area are likely to have a stronger ethnic identity. Ooka (2002) found that Chinese teenagers whose parents maintained active social ties to others from Hong Kong had strong feelings of belonging to the Hong Kong–Chinese community. These feelings of identification may contribute to the desire to return to the mother of their origins, to Hong Kong itself. In order to flourish in this constructed Hong Kong world within Canadian society, many privatize their identification. They work in the world of the majority, but socialize in the world of their Hong Kong family and youth peers (Avenarius 2006; Hiller and Chow 2005). This social division, while common among the 1.5 generation immigrants, is nonetheless uneasy (Kim et al. 2003; Zhou 1997). In the Hong Kong case, it often may be handled, if not resolved, by transnational ventures.

Culture and Images of Being Chinese in Western Society Our respondents feel themselves to be Hong Kong Chinese, and are proud of it. Yet this is often a somewhat uneasy self-image. First, they may need to come to terms with being Chinese, and many return to Hong Kong out of a sense of an unfulfilled past. As young immigrants in a culturally different setting, many were forced to account for being in Canada, rather than their birth country. One way for them to make sense of this is to create a negative image of Hong Kong. When negative images outweigh the positive ones, they stand in the way of considering a longer stay or even a life in Hong Kong. Yet images are not unshakeable. If their networks are in place, they are likely to visit and then consider returning. During a visit, they often reassess their views. For these young people, whose self-image is being formed, visits home can be crucial in precipitating change. One returnee with family in Hong Kong made a fateful visit which shook his notions of what life would be like in Hong Kong. He had long insisted that he would never return, but changed his mind:

220 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

I never expected to return to Hong Kong because I heard it was polluted, crowded, and competitive. When I returned this summer, I found that the opportunities were great, and those other factors didn’t matter so much.

A range of cultural effects contributes to their sense of being insiders or outsiders in both Canada and Hong Kong. Robert (BA Fine Arts) was excited to come to Canada in 1996. He had many church friends in Toronto and thought he would stay there after graduation from university. However, he was disappointed with what he found in Toronto and felt more suited to life in Hong Kong: “It wasn’t what I expected. … I felt Hong Kong is more suitable for me. I may need to spend some time to adapt to life once again, but I feel I belong there.” Perhaps youths like Robert arrived too late in their school careers to adapt thoroughly. And the fact that their transnational parents give them many opportunities to maintain cross-border ties continues to make a difference. Mark (BSc IT) says: “Even after I have gotten my Canadian passport, I still felt like I was in someone else’s land. I did not feel that it [Toronto] is my own place.” Even so, Mark did not think of returning to Hong Kong until he unexpectedly went back to attend his father’s funeral in 2004. This visit crystallized his views. I had to return home for some urgent matters … my father passed away suddenly, so I had to return to Hong Kong with my mother to handle my father’s funeral arrangements. I ended up staying to work in Hong Kong for a year. The feeling I had was very rewarding. It is hard to describe this feeling. You know, when I worked in Toronto, I worked for a company in the mainstream society and my boss was Caucasian from England. There wasn’t explicit discrimination. I just felt I did not fit in. I could not get myself to laugh at the jokes my colleagues said because we are from different cultures, and I simply didn’t find their jokes to be funny. Nor would they get the jokes I tell. I did not feel I had any chance for advancement in this company. I just didn’t fit. When I came back to work in Hong Kong, I experienced a better fit. It is not just about how much you make, or the kind of job you have. It is the “Feel”. When you walk on the street, you see people the same as yourself. You feel closer to these people. It doesn’t seem like you are in a foreign land. When I returned (to Hong Kong), I felt this is my own place. (Mark, BSc IT).

Like Sons and Daughters of Hong Kong: The Return of the Young Generation 221

Conclusion In this paper, transnational youths voice what propels them to return to Hong Kong, what keeps them in Toronto, and sends them back and forth. A number of factors figure in their return. At the macro-level, mostly concerned with jobs, they explore what resources are available to them, and what they lack. Trained abroad, in Canada or England, they are respected for their advanced knowledge and foreign credentials. They are attractive in the Hong Kong labour market, where they face less competition than in Canada for good positions that suit their training. Macro-level factors, permission to work, or recognition of their certification, pose little problem for returnees. They even have some advantages over the locals. The chief problem is their perception that they are being hired at beginning levels. Hence, at the macro-level, while they are treated as sons and daughters of Hong Kong in most respects, there is an element of being taken advantage of, being asked to give more (their prized Western learning), for a modest income no different from that of non-migrant Hong Kong sons and daughters. It is in the meso-level realm of social networks where their crossborder ties are most likely to bring them home to Hong Kong. In fact, social networks and kin relations are crucial in determining whether youths stay in Canada or return to Hong Kong, or go back and forth. Those in our sample whose parents are currently in Hong Kong are most likely to return or aim to return. Those who do not wish to return to Hong Kong are less likely to have parents there. It is tempting to conclude that having kin in Hong Kong determines their return to Hong Kong from Canada, and that lacking networks in Hong Kong deters return. But with the combinations of parents going back and forth, divided households and so forth, such a statement cannot be made. Indeed, it is this very flux that puts these youth at risk of going back and forth between Hong Kong and Canada themselves. Just as their parents continue to experience transnational pulls, which they have not yet resolved (Ley and Kobayashi 2005), so too the return of these youths will not be straightforward. The youth may try out the Hong Kong work life for a designated period of time. But unlike their parents, these youths grew up in two cultures and are aware of the opportunities and costs of living in either one. They are gratified by changes in political conditions in Hong Kong and the relative economic attractiveness of both Hong Kong and their adopted country (Lam 2000). They have personal ties in both worlds. Even if they opt to return to Hong Kong, there are many reasons they might later return to Canada. They are the embodiment of transnational youth contributing some form of cosmopolitanism that Hong Kong prides itself on.

222 Taking Stock of a Migrant Population: Who Is a Hong Konger?

The youths mainly return to follow their social ties. At the meso-level, sponsored return visits can provide occasions for advance visits without commitments.5 They may not be patriotic in a traditional sense of the term, but like others they are attracted by China. Being sought after is a first step, but they can be expected to be peripatetic, as they easily refer to international standards, and they have multiple goals to fill. Hence, even if they can provide a fillip to Hong Kong’s labour force, they may not be a permanent solution. These youths are part of Hong Kong’s cosmopolitanism that continues past the reversion to China. Through them, Hong Kong can continue to blend the local and the international into a new cosmopolitan Hong Kong. .

Part III Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

224 Part III — Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

Cultural capital develops within particular institutional environments. The chapter by David Faure shows that a historical approach gives us a more nuanced and less politically charged view of the colonial experiences and the hardening and softening of the territory’s borders. Faure argues that institutional integrity, a proudly flaunted Hong Kong feature, developed from a society and polity that enjoyed an unusual degree of autonomy as a colony. From the nineteenth century on, there was the successful application and propagation of companies and banking legislation, a stock market with repute, a relatively outspoken press, a very high standard of managerial (including legal and accounting) skills and their professional accreditation, and the very broad-based use of English. At the heart of what would define the Hong Konger was colonial policy. Policy did not always emanate from London and was, at any rate, usually shaped in Hong Kong, where it blended with local aspirations. The economic history of Hong Kong should recognize not a government-led economy, but a government responsive to business demands to generate entrepreneurial positioning. Examples include the import-export business in the nineteenth century, the industries from the 1920s, the power of the Hong Kong dollar from the end of the nineteenth century to the 1990s, the physical infrastructure of ports and roads, and the legal infrastructure tied to the operation of company legislation. These processes, according to Faure, attracted competitive human talents.1 In the colonial era, from 1870s to 1967, the British institutions that took root in Hong Kong were British of the colonial variety, and, in those days, the Chinese not only worked hard, but most did so largely within the framework of Chinese institutions. Since 1967, a slow process of withdrawal bred localization, in government as well as in business. An increasingly autonomous civil service, and for the first time in Hong Kong’s history, a Hong Kong–educated middle class sufficiently dominant in number made its impact. The return of Hong Kong to China’s sovereignty came on the crest of the sense of identity that had been building from the 1960s. Hong Kong lives today with the institutions created in that very long process and in the current interest of positioning Hong Kong within China. Faure stresses that it is not timeless “core values” but this common history that needs to be understood.2 Since 1997, Hong Kong’s autonomy in economic decisions has not been eroded. Despite the economic downturn, Faure sees ample opportunities. In the 1920s, it would have been impossible to think of Hong Kong as a trading port serving beyond south China, but recent transport developments have changed the fundamentals to the reach of Hong Kong as a trading node. Hong Kong’s economy is too small to set world trends; it is served best by a combination of professionalism and entrepreneurship that captures opportunities when trends beyond Hong Kong set them off.

Part III — Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions 225

A historically unique business institution in Hong Kong, in the form of a companies ordinance within a Western tradition, has made it possible for a finance market to grow, so that by the twentieth century and especially after the Second World War, funds for investment are managed by professionals who have to justify their expertise by their ability to call on the market’s openness and the vigor of corporate governance. Faure certainly believes that Hong Kong still has an edge in its professional-dominated business culture. It is based on knowledge about how business is conducted, a role for the media to impact openness into business practices, fund managers being able to demand knowledge of the business they invest in, accounting control, and, at the end of the day, results that can be judged on objective terms facilitated by discussion. Hong Kong leads much of East Asia in these aspects of modern business, and maintaining the ability that makes them possible is what ultimately will set Hong Kong apart as a regional leader. In a recent newsletter to members of the Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce, David Eldon comes to remarkably similar conclusions.3 Contradicting a popular belief that Hong Kong might be losing its edge to regional competitors, Eldon, although cautioning against undue optimism, highlights the institutional strengths that Hong Kong should sustain to maintain a place on the global stage. The question he and others have posed is: are the needed professional talents available today and in the future for the crucial tasks? Moreover, has a “fortress mentality” dampened the circulation of talents in the region? David Levin’s chapter views professions as communities of practice that develop and apply specialized knowledge and skills that have been acquired through a lengthy and structured process of formal education and training. As these communities mature, they create associations, formulate codes of ethics, and seek to regulate the admission and work of occupational practitioners. The demand for professionals grows with the shift from an industrial to a postindustrial economy, as the standard of living rises and technological complexity increases. Their contribution to economic, social, and cultural life is well known. We rely on the knowledge and skills of architects, engineers, and surveyors to develop, maintain, and upgrade our physical infrastructure. Businesses depend increasingly on a variety of professional services — accounting, advertising, analyses, designs, information technology, and legal expertise — to stay competitive. Society depends on educators for the creation and transmission of knowledge, and on culture, communication, and media specialists for information and entertainment. We depend on health care professionals, lawyers, and social workers to solve our personal problems. Most postwar “baby-boomers” who identify with the professional middle class in Hong Kong would have aspired to or acquired the resource

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as of a mobility strategy. Labeled as “Zhong Wan jiajie” by writer/advocate Long Yingtai, these “core values of Central” — however chaotic, incongruent, and nuanced — have acquired their own aesthetics and significance in the everyday lives of the territory’s residents. They have become a source of pride for a generation of local-born Hong Kongers, who have often used them to draw a sharp line between the institutional practices of Hong Kong and those of the mainland in the decade leading up to and beyond 1997.4 Levin focuses on one of the main functions of established professional associations in Hong Kong, their regulatory function, in the context of conflicting evaluations of it. The positive view is that the regulatory powers of professional bodies are essential to safeguard public interests. The critical view is that these associations use their regulatory powers to hide localism, preserve privileges, and restrict competition, thus resembling in this respect the medieval guilds in Europe. In view of the rising public claims to accountability and good governance and also the dire need of the business community for quality professionals, the orientation of these associations and their regulatory powers will be important factors in the import and nurturing of future talents. Using these bodies to uphold quality or to exclude can be a delicate balancing act. The functional constituencies in Hong Kong’s post-1997 Legislative Council have also added a political dimension to the evolution of these professional bodies.5 Bernard Hung-kay Luk and his co-authors ask a question that has long puzzled scholars, that is, how did Hong Kong society maintain an impressive stability despite enormous structural changes in the economy, massive population movements, and gross and persistent inequalities? They argue that one important and often overlooked factor was schooling. Tracing Hong Kong’s history of provisioning schooling in the half century following the Second World War, in particular in the development of curriculum and examinations and the financial investment in and economic returns from education, Luk’s chapter analyzes how a diverse migrant population and a generation of local born were prepared for postwar development. Not only were the varied educational resources able to provide a work force with different classes of skills, but also they imparted a particular discipline, work ethic, and mobility aspirations. The common belief was that for the Hong Kongers, the more schooling one enjoyed, the better one would perform on the public examinations and the brighter would be the employment prospects. In this case, the “Hong Kong myth” of meritocracy and fair competition that relied on public competitions were seen to be open and just, and gave the postwar generation of Hong Kongers a great deal of hope for social mobility into the ranks of the middle class. In other words, a credible measure of equality of opportunity compensated for the patent inequality of outcomes and produced a remarkable degree of social stability.

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The gnawing question asked by Luk is whether this pattern may have been eroded by the controversial education reforms of the past several years, especially in the policies on language in schools, on local downsizing and global outsourcing, and on a generally reduced public commitment to education. Stake-holders on both sides of the controversial education reforms would probably agree that educating a young generation is crucial to preparing Hong Kong for a much less locally grounded future. To nurture Hong Kong’s future citizens, for example, can education resources be shared across the political border for the would-be “new immigrant” children in China? Could middle-class returnee children, with degrees from North America and Europe, be given equal chances for placement in the local education system? While governments around the world are pouring resources into educating and upgrading its young, is the Hong Kong government following a neo-liberal trend of thought to shift the burden of education to the private sector and to subject it to market volatilities? Or are the local stake-holders (teachers, parents, employers, students) too entrenched in their established positions? Would the circulation principle be able to give this important aspect of nurturing human resource some necessary flexibility? While Luk et al. argue that education has been a crucial institutional resource and strategy for social mobility, Wenbin Sun and Siu-lun Wong look into the relationship between entrepreneurship and a particular kind of education process they termed credentialism. An entrepreneurial spirit is essential to the dynamism of a commercial society like Hong Kong. It has facilitated the circulation of people, goods, and ideas and is a quality most Hong Kongers have taken pride in. However, this force seems to have declined since the 1980s. The Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM) reports that the territory’s total entrepreneurial activity index scores low. In 2003, among 31 economies, Hong Kong scored barely above Croatia, Italy, Finland, Japan, and France. Although there is no universal definition of what constitutes an entrepreneur, Sun and Wong adopt a broad approach by defining it as someone who takes risks and builds on new ideas by starting up businesses for the purpose of profit and growth. They then present various survey data to assess the perceived decline in entrepreneurship in Hong Kong. Paradoxically, the authors argue, educational opportunities available to the postwar baby-boomers, coupled with an institutional emphasis on professional credentials, seem to have dampened the entrepreneurial spirit. In light of new opportunities on the mainland, one has to ask if this generation of Hong Kongers has been prepared well enough to explore them. Professionals in the creative industries, as described in Eric Ma’s chapter, have crossed the border to seek strategic alliances with mainland counterparts. But to re-activate the

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“can-do” spirit of Hong Kongers in a comprehensive manner, would the provision of educational resources need an overhaul? Despite continuous flows of newcomers, perceptions of a hardened political border have taken center stage since the 1970s, and reflected in administrative categories, institutional practices, and cultural orientations. In the wake of the 1997 economic downturn when Hong Kong was perceived by many as having lost its competitive edge, this settled generation has turned inward, using distinct “Hong Kong” cultural styles to draw hard lines against real and imaginary outsiders. An urgent question is how to retune a narrowly based Hong Kong mentality and reposition the territory’s entrenched residents in a volatile and challenging global economy. Are the present institutional resources adequate to change the orientations of this territorially based population, and to nurture exciting possibilities where the borders between China, Hong Kong, and the wider global order are being reconfigured? By economic necessity, strategic design, and new cultural imaginations, will “Hong Kongers” be able to encompass newcomers, to work together to enhance their footprints dramatically, and acquire new identities in the process? Under the British (an imposed political “circulation”), Hong Kong was developed into an open city with a free market (economic circulation) yet without nurturing cultural and political participation. With the growth of a local-born population over the postwar decades, a sense of home and citizenship has begun to take root. The chapter by Agnes S. Ku and Clarence Hon-chee Tsui, “The ‘Global City’ as a Cultural Project,” focuses on the building of cultural capital in policy institutions in an age of increasing global competition. They examine the West Kowloon Cultural District as processes by which the “world city” imagination is translated and pursued as a cultural project by the government. The framework is both a response to the challenges of globalization and a colonial legacy. Grand cultural infrastructure, they argue, remains a product of globalism and institutional paternalism without an organic engagement with the local public. For those who never made it past filing proposals in public consultative periods, it remains to be seen how much community participation could be engaged in Hong Kong’s “cultural turn” in the near future. They question the ability of the present political structures to embed a dynamic and enriched local space into Hong Kong’s global imagination. Cultural policy analysts speak of cultural development as being the foundation of a civil society, and cultural policies being fundamentally policies of a civil society. Writers and public intellectuals echo the concerns of an increasingly agitated society whose educated residents are taking their rights of citizenship with remarkable earnestness.6

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Using the “reinvention” of Tai O village in Lantau Island, Wing-hoi Chan takes a micro look at the processes by which an urban population’s fascination with a rural community has become for some an idiom for building non-local links, links that may mock the very idea of the local community. Tai O’s rope-driven ferry and the debate over the building of the anchorage illustrate that non-local interests in history, nature, and culture can be at odds with the attitudes and priorities of many locals. However, in this case, appeals to outside imaginings of “local community” and the channels established through promoting “local culture” became powerful tools for causes previously rejected by the local political hierarchy or government. Making Tai O “belong to the world,” poor fisher folks in Tai O, residents long denied land rights and who have had little cultural capital to interpret and control the “heritage” of the place, are asserting themselves. Their strategic appeals to global interests created a hybrid and fluid reinvention of place that has much empowering potential for a marginalized and nearly forgotten population in the territory. The creative intertwining of global and local becomes, once again, an entrepreneurial resource.

8

Rethinking Colonial Institutions, Standards, Life Styles and Experiences David Faure

Hong Kong’s colonial myth has it that British institutions and Chinese hard work created the very wealthy city which reverted to China in June 1997. Like all myths, this one twists partial reality to fit a political end. For just about a hundred years, that is to say, from 1870 to 1967, the British institutions which took root in Hong Kong were British of the colonial variety, and in those days, the Chinese not only worked hard, but most did so very largely within the framework of Chinese institutions. Since 1967, a slow process of withdrawal bred localization, in government as well as in business. An increasingly autonomous civil service and, for the first time in Hong Kong’s history, a Hong Kong–educated middle class sufficiently dominant in number has made their impact. The return of Hong Kong to China’s sovereignty came on the crest of the sense of identity which was building up from the 1960s. Hong Kong lives today with the institutions created in that very long process and in the current interest of positioning Hong Kong within China, it is not “core values” but this common history which needs to be understood.1

Empire Days The focus here on Hong Kong’s experience from 1870 rather than the cession of the island of Hong Kong to Britain in 1842 is deliberate. It highlights the difference in two meanings given to the word “colony.” The word “colony” could stand either for the settler community, or the territorial claim made by a government beyond its national boundary. Broadly, in line with British empire history, it may be said that up to 1870, the former definition applied,

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and since then, the latter. British colonial traditions set up for administering settler communities had had to adapt for governing territories on which were settled not only Britishers away from home but also “the natives,” and indeed, often also many hangers-on. Until the twentieth century, the Legislative Council stood out forcefully for the rights of the colony, quite a few times taking their protests to London. That is not to say that it necessarily stood out for the Chinese residents of Hong Kong. In the early days of Hong Kong’s history, the Chinese population was not allowed to build houses in the Western preserve, and they were required by law to carry a lantern when they went out at night. Racial overtones carried into the twentieth century but the legislation which supported it died away only towards the later years of the nineteenth century. The Chinese residents of Hong Kong who came on to this scene were caught up in two separate trajectories of events. One of these was their increasing economic importance throughout Hong Kong’s history. Certainly enough, the Chinese provided most of the labour force, but by 1881, as Governor Hennessy realized, they also bought most of the real estate. The other strand had to do with politics. Hong Kong’s relationship with China was always caught within a quadrilateral consisting of London, Hong Kong, Guangzhou and Beijing, none of which had identical interests. The Governor of Hong Kong answered to London, which dealt with Beijing, which, in turn, dealt with Guangzhou, whose interests often competed with Hong Kong’s as its neighbour. But how did the Governor deal with London, by whom he was appointed and to whom he had to answer? He did that on the claim that he had to protect the interests of Hong Kong’s Chinese natives. He played this card especially when Beijing, on the suggestion of the British Minister to Beijing, demanded that a consul be appointed to Hong Kong, a suggestion much to the Governor’s distaste. An increasingly wealthy Chinese population with a stake in Hong Kong and a Governor who portrayed himself as their protector became a fundamental tenet in the Hong Kong administrative formula. Under Hennessy and subsequent governors, this formula took the shape of government patronage for the Chinese elite, while they, in turn, gave him their support. Institutional structure was put on this arrangement by the formation of the Tung Wah Hospital and the appointment of Chinese members to those government institutions on which the public voice was represented as required by the letters patent, in effect, the Hong Kong government’s charters from Britain. The Tung Wah Hospital, founded in 1870, was itself the institutionalized representation of the established Chinese merchants and the guilds. To get to the roots of the representativeness of the Tung Wah, one would have to delve into the role of temples in Chinese society, where in the name of maintaining periodic sacrifice to the gods

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and the repairs of the temple, the local elite would have been active on the bodies which managed the temples. By the time the Tung Wah was founded, the Man Mo Temple on Hollywood Road had already emerged as the leader among temples on Hong Kong Island as its clientele included the most prominent merchants and the guilds. The overlap between the leadership of the Man Mo Temple and the directorship of Tung Wah preserved the legitimacy of the Chinese elite which was to work closely with the Hong Kong government, and the appointment of one of them eventually onto the Legislative Council gave official voice to the Chinese in the centre of policy discussion in the Hong Kong government. The repackaging of the Man Mo Temple management, the founding of the Tung Wah, and the appointment of the Chinese member of the Legislative Council added up to the invention of colonial tradition at its best.2 The institutional cross-over from the Man Mo Temple to the Chinese member of the Legislative Council also brought about the differentiation of the elite on grounds of language and education. The Legislative Council conducted its sessions in English, and so it was taken for granted that the only Chinese persons who might be appointed to it were those who were not only English speakers, but also knowledgeable about British law and the legislative procedure. Not surprisingly, therefore, for decades, Chinese members of the Legislative Council were appointed from lawyers. The lawyers, along with doctors, were at the tip of the professional edge, and they epitomized the career expectations to which hard-working Chinese young men (for a long time, very few young women) might aspire to. English would have been learnt in the school days, followed by university abroad and qualification in Britain. The importance of English in the curriculum had long been recognized: the churches needed Chinese preachers from before the founding of Hong Kong and the Hong Kong government threw in its support for training interpreters and, very soon, the English speakers required in administration and business. The government school and the church schools produced an elite, but that was not the same elite as the Chinese elite who were educated in the traditional schools, probably in China, and who had come into Hong Kong after their school days. One of many reasons for the success of Hong Kong must be related to the symbiosis of these different sorts of people. The two strata were porous: the second generation of the non-English speaker could easily make it onto the English-speaking stratum, although speaking English, many until the 1950s continued to portray themselves as upholders of tradition as exemplified in their adherence to Chinese-style dress. Why was the Chinese population becoming wealthy in Hong Kong? It is often said that Hong Kong was poor in natural resources and so, if the economy had worked, it did because of the hard work put into the place.

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That is not strictly true. Hong Kong’s principal resource lay in its location (why else did the British pick it as their trading station in China?) It takes only a look at the map to see that Macao and Hong Kong were the two outermost points of the outlet from Guangzhou, Macao down the southern coast to Vietnam and Southeast Asia, and Hong Kong up the eastern coast to Shanghai, Tianjin and Japan. The two routes were well known in the Chinese sea-faring literature. It began, therefore, as a centre of trade but very soon after it was given to Britain, it became a place of refuge. Again, historians picking up contemporary reports have become used to tracing the population influx from the time of the Taiping rebellion in China. Into the twentieth century, Hong Kong was much more peaceful than the Chinese countryside and so, there need be no doubt that stability would have accounted for an important part of Hong Kong’s ability to draw much of Guangzhou’s business over. But, obviously, into this picture must be put the Hong Kong economy, which provided jobs and investment opportunities for many. It is true that at every influx, people slept on the street, but except for the late 1930s, when the war refugees from China were eventually, along with many longer-term Hong Kong residents, repatriated by the Japanese occupation government back to China, Hong Kong had remarkably absorbed the incoming population into the economy. The economy was helped by the booming trade of the China coast and the legal structure that was rapidly put in place by the colonial administration. The boom in trade has long been recognized in the historical literature, but not a great deal of recognition has been given to the importance of the Companies Ordinance and what followed from it from 1865. That was the first companies law enacted in China, and that, together with the English education, had always given Hong Kong an edge.3 In order to understand why the Companies Ordinance was so very important in the development of Hong Kong as a centre of business, it is necessary to go back to the history of company legislation in European history. As Karl Polanyi pointed out in his lectures on the British Industrial Revolution, the “self-regulating market” came into being only when kings declared hands off from trade.4 That took place when they granted the cities charters in the Middle Ages, and by the nineteenth century, by guaranteeing the rights of merchants to trade in companies law. The law provided the basis for the state to tax business, in return for which it offered protection to share-holders. It provided for business registration, limited liability, and, in further requirements specified in subsequent revisions to the law, openness and accountability. An important element would have included provisions for company accounts and their audit. In contrast, in the China of the 1860s, although partnerships were commonly formed in business, it was far from clear in crucial areas of business, for

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example, in running factories, that Chinese merchants had rights except through special permission by the Qing dynasty government. It is not true that prior to the Qing government’s adoption of its own version of company law in 1904, shares were not issued by Chinese enterprises, but it can be understood that when they did, they did not circulate as readily as those from Hong Kong’s registered companies did on the stock exchange. Together with newspapers reporting on company general meetings, stock exchange regulations, and the availability of the courts to adjudicate disputes, Hong Kong legislation provided more protection for the businessman than did contemporary Chinese law. It became common practice for companies registered in Hong Kong to trade in Shanghai and other treaty ports. The Companies Ordinance provided the basic structure, but in the second half of the nineteenth century, it probably did not go far enough. In nineteenth-century Western Europe, along with company law had come state recognition and legal provision for banking. It was also in the nineteenth century that most European countries adopted paper currency. In this respect, the revolution in trade finance brought by the telegraph was fundamental. When by 1870 the telegraph reached Shanghai, Western reports noted for the first time that foreign merchants in China were no longer trading with their own capital and taking their own risks, and, instead, were now acting as agents for businesses in the home countries and trading on bank credit. Out of this background came the insurance companies, and the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, established initially as a registered company and then by ordinance in Hong Kong, even though its head office was registered in the United Kingdom. The Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank was very soon — by the 1890s — to go beyond the confines of business in Hong Kong, for it became banker to the Qing government’s Imperial Maritime Customs Service, banker to the Hong Kong government and instrumental in floating loans on behalf of the Qing government. Despite these spectacular successes, the registered side of business was only a portion of the picture. A great deal of Chinese business continued to be conducted as partnerships, little regulated not because the government was unwilling to do so, but because it was recognized as a difficult issue. On the one hand, the Hong Kong government knew that some regulation was needed, if only to require that the partners’ names be registered for the sake of clarifying liability. Yet, on the other hand, tight control on Chinese partnerships could drive them away from Hong Kong and it was recognized by the 1890s that they were needed. The Chinese Partnership Ordinance of 1911 was carefully crafted legislation which required some transparency but retained essentially the spirit of secrecy which characterized these businesses. The impact of the Companies Ordinance has to be sought in a wider context. The law itself, it must be recognized, was only one piece in a

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jigsaw puzzle which made up for a climate for business which was distinct from China’s. The idea of the “company” was itself part of the innovation, and it was popularized not only because of company legislation, but also because Western companies were successful in China, because they were very much a part of the news, and because they propelled business towards greater professionalization. The existence of a court making judgements on the basis of company legislation brought on lawyers who were trained in it. Company legislation specified the details required of accounts, and so the accountants professionalized to meet the need. Before the Second World War, Hong Kong businesses were dominated by family firms and so there is little need to think about the separation of ownership from management, yet as businesses grew in size, they went beyond the family and immediate contacts. Professionalization must have crept in. Recognition of the position of merchants brought about the chambers of commerce, along the Western model, and so by 1900, Chinese businessmen, like their Western counterparts, lobbied for their own interests. The provisions of the law and the interest of the newspapers provided for some openness, not to be exaggerated. Yet, even there, when accounts had to be published, there was greater openness than in the Chinese partnership, where secrecy ruled the day. Before the Second World War, Shanghai would have been leader on the China coast in this tradition, and Hong Kong would have been close behind.5 The colonial tradition which produced the Companies Ordinance was part of a much wider package. Although it should not be taken for granted that Hong Kong followed very closely administrative trends in Britain, some practices were deeply ingrained in British imperial policy and enforced almost as a matter of course in the colonies. The colonial treasuries were closely supervised, if only to ensure that the British government did not have to foot an unanticipated bill. The colonies also had easy access to advice on matters of health, education, building standards and policing, and professional standards — building, accounting, law, medicine, engineering — were set by professional bodies in Britain. In social issues on which the British government had taken a firm stand, the colonies were required to toe the line. For this reason, British government influence provided very much the pressure for abolishing the selling of women into domestic service in the form of mui-tsai, and then, also in the very substantial areas of changes in labour legislation. Unlike most British colonies, however, Hong Kong was often materially affected by Britain’s China policy just as Hong Kong itself proved fertile grounds for popular reactions to Chinese government policies. It was a point of embarrassment for Hong Kong when Sun Yat-sen sought refuge while the Qing government ruled, and Hong Kong came into a very tight corner when Chinese nationalism took on an

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anti-British flare in the 1920s. In colonial Hong Kong, the conflict between the Chinese national who was also the Hong Kong citizen and the interest of Britain in an international context could be ignored but not dismissed. There was no easy solution for it; it simply went away.6

Increasing Autonomy The Second World War is often presented in Hong Kong history as the sharp break from the past. A very substantial population which surged into Hong Kong as war broke out between Japan and China in 1937 were repatriated under Japanese rule, and another surge of population entered as China entered civil war after 1945. The break seems corroborated when the children of the immigrants of the late 1940s and 1950s came to be billed as Hong Kongers by the 1980s. It seems implicit in the argument that the post-War generation started on a clean slate. It is sometimes said Hong Kong was a refugee city until the 1960s, and thereafter, the Hong Kongers’ generation followed. The generalization, however, is only partly true. It does not give enough weight to continuation of government policies from the 1920s to the 1950s, nor to probably the most major turn of events of them all, the withdrawal of Britain from its colonies beginning from the time it lost the war with Egypt over the Suez Canal. It does not detect that the Hong Kongers’ generation is itself very much a product of the combination of circumstances, ranging from the Hong Kong government’s education policies to changes in border control. Only by contrasting the history of the pre-War and postWar periods is it brought home how Hong Kong became what it was by the 1970s — on the eve of the Sino-British negotiations prior to the return of Hong Kong to China. The increasing autonomy of Hong Kong from the 1960s takes on special significance only when it is set in the context of the 1950s when Britain still directed many of the Hong Kong government’s policies. In the background, it needs also to be said that as long as Britain was in charge, the Hong Kong government’s social policies were extremely consistent. The interest in sanitation began from the 1870s and went on to the 1920s, and by the 1920s, the social policies broadened to some degree of protection for industrial workers and even some recognition for the need for housing subsidies. Not a great deal came of these in the 1930s because of the interruption of the war, and when by the end of the war, the government returned, British government pressure was on to put some of them into action. The expansion of an interest in welfare issues is a subject of interest in itself, but the politics had much longer lasting consequences. The

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Legislative Council was not composed of an interest to represent Hong Kong’s poor. A rift was soon expressed in public opinion which saw the Legislative Council as being representative only of the propertied and business classes as the vacuum in the voice of the needed came to be taken up by some among the elected members of the Urban Council. By the 1970s, Governor Sir Murray Maclehose was to deal with the situation by appointing “grass-roots” members of the public to the Legislative Council. The term highlights the ideological change, pre–Second World War, when the Chinese member spoke out for the Chinese.7 How much the new social policy was a reaction to contemporary Chinese politics and how much to industrialization is a debatable point, but there can be little doubt that industrialization did not dawn on Hong Kong only in the 1950s. Historian Ngo Tak-wing is probably right about this aspect of the Hong Kong government, when he argued that pre-War industry was alien to its policies because it was run by the Chinese, while British companies were much more prominently represented in importexport. The statistics are on his side: by 1931, more people were engaged in industry in Hong Kong than in commerce or services.8 Nor is it strictly true that Hong Kong’s industrial success was brought about by laissez faire. Only in recent years has the issue of textile quotas been cited in the academic literature not only as a restriction on the industrialist but also as an opportunity for rent-seeking. Historians do not belittle the courage of the industrialists of Hong Kong, who in the dark days of the 1950s, decided to root their enterprise there, but are only now becoming realistic in revolting against the propagandist line of the Hong Kong government which sought to purge negotiation and politics from discussions of its policy decisions under the general rubric that they resulted from obvious needs. In fact, the Hong Kong government did not always succeed in taking the lead in meeting the demands of the business community. When one looks at the history of banking in Hong Kong, one sees the crisis looming in the 1960s because the law was shoddy, as international banks, reacting to their own agenda of setting up off-shore banking centres away from Europe and America, were beating their way to Hong Kong’s doorsteps. The Hong Kong government had to impose a moratorium on the registration of new banks so as to gain breathing space for a new law to be ironed out. Historians are not yet ready with an economic history of Hong Kong, but when they come nearer to it, they will probably find not a governmentled economy, but a government responsive to business demands as the economy grew. There is a tendency to write Hong Kong history as if the geographic location could lead to economic success, and not enough work has been done to recognize the entrepreneurial positioning which captured the market as it occurred. One might say that about the import-export

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business in the nineteenth century, the industries from the 1920s (but also some of them even from before that time), and the power of the Hong Kong dollar from the end of the nineteenth century all the way through to the 1990s. Export from China, the remittance business, investment in the region, and then import into China came from private initiative, while the Hong Kong government put in the infrastructure in providing the roads and port facilities, and then maintaining the commercial tradition closely tied to the operation of company legislation. The initiative came from the businessmen, and through the many means whereby their views are reflected, notably from their chambers of commerce and the Legislative Council, government policies followed. There is a very long tradition of such a trend in Hong Kong’s history, which set it diametrically opposed to the trend in Qing dynasty and Republican China. Western merchants were into oppositional politics long before the Chinese, for they realized that questions raised in London had at least a nuisance value even if they did not always bring direct results. They were also organized for it: the Chamber of Commerce in Hong Kong, in the 1890s, believing civil service salaries overpaid, lobbied for support from the China Association in London, set up by British merchants to influence the British government in its China trade policies. The China Association, in turn, had its contacts in the Colonial Office and in Parliament. The Chinese community does not seem to have tried lobbying parliamentary opinion until well into the 1960s, beginning not with matters of economic interest but questions concerning elections and an expanding role for the Urban Council, an issue which appeared first in the 1940s in line with British imperial policies postWar elsewhere. Two issues in particular, brought the Hong Kong government together with both Western and Chinese business interests in the 1960s: trade representation and the pegging of the Hong Kong dollar to stirling. The question of trade representation began with quotas imposed on Hong Kong by none other than Britain itself in protection of its own industry. While Britain negotiated on behalf of Hong Kong elsewhere in the world, Britain’s interest in joining the Common Market by the 1960s compromised its position as Hong Kong’s defender in quota negotiation. It must have been with doubts of the sort that a Hong Kong representation called on the Foreign Office in 1963 to ask that Hong Kong be allowed to post its own representative abroad. The vivid description of that meeting in British government records reads: Mr. Scott [from the Hong Kong delegation] described the position of Hong Kong during the United Kingdom’s negotiations with the E.E.C.; her problem was what line to take in the light of the breakdown. If the

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United Kingdom’s objective was still accession to the Community, should the Hong Kong Trade Mission, which was visiting European countries in the autumn, try to promote political contacts with E.E.C. countries as well as trade ones? Sir Patrick Reilly [meeting chair] explained that accession to the E.E.C. was still the objective of Her Majesty’s Government. Meanwhile, as the Lord Privy Seal had said, the United Kingdom would not turn its back on Europe. However, there was no practical possibility of an immediate resumption of negotiations; it was most unlikely that General de Gaulle would withdraw his veto. Our working assumption was, therefore, that for the next few years it would not be possible to join the E.E.C. ... There was no doubt that our negotiations had made a considerable impact on the Community and we could now hope to have relations with it such as would have been out of the questions before we sought membership. He thought that it was fair to say that one effect of the Brussels negotiations had been to make the community think in broader terms... Mr. Scott said that the Hong Kong Chamber of Commerce was planning to send a Trade Mission to the countries of the E.E.C. in the early Autumn. The Hong Kong Association would like to be able to advise the Hong Kong Chamber of Commerce on the following points. First, would it be wise for the Mission to try to see political figures in the countries visited as well as trade circles. Secondly, should the Chamber of Commerce invite political personalities from the Community to visit Hong Kong, in addition to the large number of commercial visitors from E.E.C. Countries. Thirdly, should the chamber of commerce be advised to pursue industry-to-industry trade agreements with European countries (e.g. between Hong Kong and European cotton industries). Sir Patrick Reilly said that in general he thought it most desirable that Hong Kong should take every opportunity to put its point of view to the countries of the E.E.C. and to develop all possible contacts with them, on the assumption that the United Kingdom would eventually join the E.E.C. Her Majesty’s Government for their part would of course continue to put Hong Kong’s case to the E.E.C. Governments and to the Community as appropriate whenever opportunity arose. He would however like to consult our Embassies in the Common Market countries on the question whether the Trade Mission should contact political personalities and whether such people should be invited to Hong Kong in advance of the Mission’s visit. He undertook to do this and he was sure that our Embassies would give the Mission all the help and advice they could. The question raised by Mr. Scott about industry-to-industry trade agreements was primarily one for the Board of Trade and the Foreign Office or the Colonial Office would arrange to consult them.9

It was not noted then what a major departure it was for the colony to despatch its own representative to Europe, but that was only the beginning.

Rethinking Colonial Institutions, Standards, Life Styles and Experiences 241

If there was an unsung hero behind the scene in the 1960s, it was Hong Kong’s Financial Secretary, (later Sir) John Copperthwaite. He was very much behind the mission to Europe in 1963, and, throughout, dedicated to Hong Kong’s interest. The most obvious expression of it came in his dealings with the British government over the Hong Kong dollar as Britain devalued stirling in 1967. Those were the days when government negotiations were held in secret and, not only the public, but also Legislative Councillors were not told the whole story. When stirling was devalued, the Hong Kong dollar was devalued with it, initially to the same extent as stirling. The Hong Kong government soon decided that the Hong Kong dollar devaluation was excessive and revalued it in a matter of days. Copperthwaite was taken to task by members of the Legislative Council for the uncertainty introduced into the economy. In his own defence, Copperthwaite revealed how difficult it was for him to maintain any control on the Hong Kong dollar as long as it was directed from Britain. He was given four hours’ notice for the devaluation of stirling, not because he had not anticipated it, but that almost inevitably, until then, whenever he asked London for guidance on the question, London denied that there was intention to devalue. Yet, devaluation brought two major changes with respect to the Hong Kong government’s power to control the currency. Firstly, London granted Hong Kong authority to decide on the amount by which the Hong Kong dollar should devalue. Secondly, London had to negotiate with the Hong Kong government with respect to the guarantee that it would offer Hong Kong should stirling further devalue, in return for the Hong Kong government’s keeping its monetary reserve in Britain. The Hong Kong dollar was guaranteed, in effect, a secret value pegged to the US dollar. The value was divulged to members of the Legislative Council and hence it could be safely concluded it was known to the banks, but not to the general public.10 There is much which can be said in detail about Copperthwaite’s negotiation with Britain over Hong Kong’s monetary deposits in Britain. To cut a long story short, by the end of the 1960s, therefore, Hong Kong went into banking reform with autonomy over the Hong Kong dollar. Again, the capable hands of Copperthwaite are apparent, the Hong Kong government also, by the 1960s, began to acquire substantial fiscal surplus every year, thanks to income raised from tax and land sale. One would have thought it was unlikely these very major economic changes would not have made an impact on the way Hong Kong was governed. Indeed they did, in two ways. Firstly, the veiled confrontation between Hong Kong and Britain in the 1960s was part of the long post-War process of British withdrawal which may be traced to the defeat in the Suez Crisis. A diminishing empire and financial stringency meant the downscaling of the

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Colonial Office, and by the 1960s, Governor Sir David Trench knew well that London had little control over him. Increasing budgetary and auditing autonomy was one consequence, but the broader picture is brought home in the Governor’s handling of the Urban Council, where he brought about a major revamp of its role without so much as keeping the British government informed of the essential moves he was making until his negotiations with the Urban Council were finally completed. Secondly, the civil service was increasingly localized by the 1960s. In the background, it has to be said that Hong Kong’s Administrative Service (the cadet service) from before the War, had always been devoted to Hong Kong despite its recruitment in Britain. But it has also to be said that keeping the upper echelon of the administrative service to recruits from Britain did make an impact in Hong Kong, for the simple reason that when the locals knew that their career advancement was capped at a racial ceiling, the best and brightest shunned the civil service. This ceiling was gradually lifted from the late 1950s, when local Chinese people were admitted into the Administrative Service, and advanced considerably in the 1970s, when they were appointed to senior posts. The same tendency appearing in private business produced the self-conscious Hong Kong middle class, many of whom saw their interests at stake in the riots of 1967 and who by the 1970s defined themselves as the generation of Hong Kongers.11 Increasing autonomy for the Hong Kong government in the 1960s had not meant greater involvement for local people in the government process. Sir David Trench’s reforms were designed explicitly to keep it so. It meant, therefore, that the localized civil service behaved increasingly like a political party, which for its mandate, provided social services to the Hong Kong population. It was broadly based on the support of the Hong Kong population, a common bond for which was being built up not in the common social programme but in a common language and life style. And so, even there, at the heart of what would define the identity of the Hong Konger, colonial policy, not emanating from London but re-shaped in Hong Kong, blended in with local aspirations. Common language and life style can be traced to many origins, some of which are not obvious. A substantial population being schooled in both Cantonese and English is one of them. Until the 1960s, although English was used as the language for much that had to do with law and administration, because government played a much smaller part in the daily life of most people, Chinese held its own in many quarters. Nevertheless, census data suggest that even in 1931, the two languages were mediated through script as much as speech: 11.54 percent of the men aged 21 and over were said to have the “ability to speak English,” compared to 10.10 of the same description who were said to have the “ability to read

Rethinking Colonial Institutions, Standards, Life Styles and Experiences 243

and write English.” That is to say, while only 1 in 10 men (aged 21 and over) could speak English, almost all those who could speak could write the language. The comparable number for women was tiny: 1.88 percent who could speak and 1.58 speak and write. The census figures also show that while only 1 in 10 men could speak and write English, almost 8 out of 10 could “read and write in the mother tongue,” which for the majority by far, would have been Chinese. The pattern holds true for women, 18 percent could read and write in the mother tongue compared to 1.88 who could speak English. It must be expected, therefore, that letters and even official documents such as contracts were written in Chinese. In 1966, 24 percent of the Hong Kong Island population and 26 percent of Kowloon reported that they could speak English.12 Without the age breakdowns, it is hard to tell how these figures compare with those of 1931, but with 800,000 children in school by the early 1960s and a population of just over three million in 1961 rising to just under four million in 1971, it is only reasonable to expect the proportion of English speakers to rise sharply. Yet, despite the broadened exposure to English, the Chinese language newspapers held firm. Figures cited by Liang Weixian and Chen Wenmin illustrate the trend: the 1970s were the heyday of the Chinese newspaper in Hong Kong, 30 Chinese newspapers in the 1960s expanding to 70 in the 1970s and declining to 63 in 1980, 55 in 1982 and 41 in 1993.13 As many other writers have pointed out, the 1970s also saw written Chinese vernacularized. A Cantonese literature grew, largely in connection with entertainment. This was on top of the frenzy for Cantonese television drama in the 1970s which must be ascribed to TVB’s Jade channel’s successful tapping into audience interest, whatever one might say about the literary or artistic merits of the drama series themselves.14 As the schools must have made an impact on speech as much as writing, they turned the offspring of many non-Cantonese speakers into Cantonese speakers outside the natal home. In all this were formed some elements of the Hong Kong life style which have occupied the attention of many a recent Hong Kong writer: the ability to read some English, the habit of reading in Chinese for entertainment, and, real comfort from speaking in Cantonese. The post-War Hong Kong generation saw rapid social mobility, increasing income and guaranteed security provisions from housing to medical facilities to old-age pension. They were highly literate, with a substantial proportion versatile in both English and Cantonese. They were used to a civil service oriented towards high standards, the provision of service being the justification for the Hong Kong government for wielding political power. They were not used to electoral politics, there never having been the tradition of such in Hong Kong until the 1980s. Hong Kong was prosperous, professional and politically naive when the Sino-British

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negotiations began in 1982. If any part of Hong Kong’s autonomy was not relaxed by 1982, it was in the broad area of professional recognition, but that was soon to change.

Conclusion Looking at Hong Kong history in the long term can help to explain quite a few features of the Hong Kong experience during the 1980s and 1990s, in the running up to Hong Kong’s return to China. The Hong Kong civil service behaved like a political party, with its own platform and leadership, seeking support from an opinion-polled population in demonstration of its mandate to rule. As localization proceeded at break-neck speed, the educated were moved rapidly upwards. The political parties of the 1980s had no precedence in Hong Kong — the most experienced political body in colonial Hong Kong was the Heung Yee Kuk, but its mandate was rapidly being eroded by the District Councils of the New Territories. Politics was driven by popular sentiments and not administrative programmes — political discussions centred on ideals of democracy rather than issues of taxation or redistribution, while major building programmes into the 1990s tended to be decided by the Hong Kong government in consultation with appointed committees with little public debate. The electoral arrangement, in recognition of existing lobbies and in avoidance of direct elections, crystallized in a mandate built upon district-based franchise and “functional constituencies.” Parallel to the political development, the economy boomed. The historical circumstances were provided by China’s opening since 1978 and the driving forces of the global market, especially in areas of banking and finance. For those benefits, Hong Kong was drawing its dividends from structural positioning from back in the nineteenth century: the successful application and propagation of companies and banking legislation, a stock market of repute, a relatively outspoken press, the very high standard of managerial (including legal and accounting) skills and the very broadbased ability in the use of English. The government that was finally to break from any formal control from Britain had to introduce independent accreditation, and so a major movement which tied in closely with the development of functional constituencies was local accreditation of professional standards. The sixteen years from the Sino-British negotiation to the hand-over in mid-1997, however, were extraordinary years in Hong Kong history. There had never been a British government which was more keen to promote popular elections in Hong Kong, or a Hong Kong

Rethinking Colonial Institutions, Standards, Life Styles and Experiences 245

government more able to finance expansionary programmes, thanks to the combination of politics and economics of the 1980s and 1990s. Since 1997, the Hong Kong autonomy in economic decisions has not been eroded. That must not be confused with the economic downturn, which was largely an international phenomenon in which Hong Kong was caught. Hong Kong’s constitutional structure (i.e. the Basic Law) imposes a fairly rigid separation of the executive from the legislature, and the lack of common electoral grounds has made it very difficult for the executive to bring in needed reforms (the tax structure being an obvious candidate). Changing circumstances obviously call for new skills — the use of putonghua being an obvious one. The disparity in income between Hong Kong and mainland China created its own problems. It provided the pull factors which attracted a lower-income population into Hong Kong, but the shift of industrial production to the mainland which arose out of it has also had its impact on wages and redundancy. In opposition to these trends came increasing opportunities, recent developments in renminbi accounts and the opening of the southwest now loom as obvious examples. The Hong Kong government’s report circa 1924 on “The Commercial Development of the Port of Hong Kong” noted, after considering relative costs of rail and water transport, that there was “no likelihood whatever of goods from beyond Changsha coming to Hong Kong by rail.”15 Recent transport developments in central and south-western China have been changing these fundamentals to the reach of Hong Kong as a port. Hong Kong’s economy is too small to set world trends; it is served best by a combination of professionalism and entrepreneurship which captures opportunities when trends beyond Hong Kong set them off. This last observation takes the argument back to the origin of Hong Kong as a trading city. It is necessary to ask why the companies ordinance, for all its short-comings, had provided a model for the organization of business. In a separate context, I have examined China’s business tradition of the small family firm, low transparency, accounting to keep track more of cash flow than capital, and the abundance of private contracts, with the Western tradition which came in with the companies legislation, which demanded upon firm growth, the separation of ownership and management, accountability, openness, account audits and limited liability. The Western structure, based on companies legislation, has made it possible for a finance market to grow, so that by the twentieth century and especially after the Second World War funds for investment are managed by professionals, who have to justify their expertise by their ability to call on the market’s openness. It is this and not simply a wish list of what is good for business that has put corporate governance on the media and legislative agenda. Does Hong Kong still have an edge in the operation which is derived from

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the Western rather than the traditional Chinese model? It certainly does. It rests in knowledge about how business is conducted, a role for the media to impart openness into business practices, fund managers being able to demand knowledge of the businesses they invest in, accounting control, and, at the end of the day, results which can be judged on objective terms facilitated by discussion. Hong Kong leads much of east Asia in these aspects of modern business, and maintaining the ability that makes them possible is what ultimately will set Hong Kong apart as a regional leader.

9

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong David A. Levin

The professions can be viewed from different angles: as a distinctive way of organizing work, as creators and transmitters of cultural and social capital, as drivers of innovation, as an elite group in the class structure of modern societies, and as occupational communities (Brint 1994; Florida 2002; Freidson 2001; Goode 1957; Krause 1996; Larson 1977; Rossides 1998). These perspectives are neither exhaustive nor necessarily mutually exclusive but it suggests the desirability of starting with a working definition of the professions. I view them as communities of practice that develop and apply specialized knowledge and skills acquired through a lengthy and structured process of formal education and training. As these communities develop, they create associations, formulate codes of ethics and seek to regulate the admission and work of their practitioners (Abbott 1991).1 The demand for professionals grows with the shift from an industrial to a post-industrial economy, as the standard of living rises, and as technological complexity increases. In the case of Hong Kong too, the size of the professional stratum in Hong Kong has increased as the economy has undergone restructuring. As shown in Table 1, the number of professionals grew from 128,600 persons in 1994 to 209,600 in 2004. This represents a 63 percent increase in the number of professionals over the decade compared with the growth in the total employed population over the same period of only about 15 percent. As a result, the share of professionals in the total employed population rose from 4.5 percent to 6.3 percent.2

248 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions Table 1 Employed Professionals (thousands)

Number of professionals Total employed persons Professionals as % of total

1994

1999

2000

128.6

168.5

182.7

2,872.8 3,112.1 3,207.3 4.5

5.4

5.7

2001 194.6

2002 194.3

2003 201.3

2004 209.6

3,252.3 3,231.6 3,219.1 3,308.6 6.0

6.0

6.3

6.3

Source: Census and Statistics Department (2005b: 20).

The contributions of these professionals to our way of life are well known. We rely on the knowledge and skills of architects, engineers and surveyors to develop, maintain and upgrade our physical infrastructure. Businesses depend increasingly on a variety of professional services — accounting, advertising, analysts, designers, information technology, legal — to be competitive. Society depends on educators for the creation and transmission of knowledge, and on culture, communication and media specialists for information and entertainment. We depend on health care professionals, lawyers and social workers to solve our personal problems. In short, “some professions provide us with critical personal services, others with functional knowledge without which much of our standard of living could not exist, and others with enlightenment without which we would be culturally impoverished” (Friedson 2001: 220).3 The significance of professional services for Hong Kong’s economic development and sustaining its competitive edge has received growing recognition from the Hong Kong business community and the Government since the early 1990s.4 Professionals and their associations have also been important participants in Hong Kong’s political, social and cultural life. Given their diverse contributions, one might expect to find a substantial body of academic writing about professionals and their organizations. My impression is however that the subject of professionalization and its impact on Hong Kong has been relatively neglected, at least compared to the attention given to two other major components of the social infrastructure of the economy — businesses and their associations, and trade unions.5 Why the Hong Kong professions are under-researched is puzzling though not my concern here. My focus instead is limited to one of the three main functions of the established professional associations. One of these functions is to advance knowledge of the profession or discipline (the learned society function). Another is to voice the concerns and interests of practitioners (the representation function). A third is involvement in setting standards of practice, and in the admission, training and monitoring of practitioners (the regulatory function). I focus on the last of these functions in the context of conflicting evaluations of it.

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The positive view is that the regulatory powers of professional bodies are essential to safeguard the public by excluding the unqualified, by maintaining and upgrading practitioner standards and by disciplining those who violate professional standards. Yet skeptical sociologists, among others, have questioned how committed professional bodies really are to protecting the public from incompetents. Goode (1980: 123) for example, in his discussion of the organizational protection of the inept, maintained that the professions “while claming to be the sole competent judges of their members’ skills, and the guardians of their clients’ welfare, refuse to divulge information about how competent any of them are” and make rules that “it is unethical to criticize the work of fellow members to laymen.” He also noted that when a new profession is organized, grandfather clauses usually permit older practitioners with less training to continue in practice without being tested. This critical view of the professions has been taken a step further by those who claim that professional bodies are less concerned with upholding the quality of work than they are with protecting themselves from competition, thus resembling in this respect the medieval European guilds.

Professional Bodies as Guilds It was popular at one time to compare professional associations with guilds. The American political scientist V. O. Key wrote that “A characteristic of the politics of the professional association is their tendency to seek the reality, if not invariably the form, of a guild system” (Key 1958, quoted in Olson 1965: 137). Millerson (1964: 15) thought that the British qualifying associations resembled the guilds in terms of the structure of professional membership, the control of training and testing for admission as a fully fledged practitioner, and the regulation of standards of service and competence. Neo-liberal economists moved beyond descriptive comparisons to criticize the guild-like powers of the professional bodies. Milton Friedman (1962: 141) for example considered the spread in the U.S. of occupational licencing an anathema because it “frequently establishes essentially the medieval guild kind of regulation in which the state assigns power to the members of the profession.” Olson (1965: 137–38) criticized the “pervasive tendency towards compulsion in professional associations” including the compulsory membership requirement and the powers that the associations could exercise over the individual practitioner. During the 1970s and 1980s the professions in Western countries came under attack from academics, consumer movements, governments

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influenced by neo-liberal economic ideas, the courts and business firms for their anti-competitive, protectionist practices (Evetts 1999; Freidson 2001: 185–91). Krause (1996) argues that economic and political changes in the advanced societies over the past century have eroded the guild-like powers of the professions although unevenly across countries and professions. Yet concerns about the anti-competitive practices of the professions have not disappeared. It has for example been one focus of the OECD series on competition policy (OECD 2000). So do the Hong Kong professional bodies with self-regulatory powers resemble guilds by virtue of the adoption of protectionist and anticompetitive practices?6 To attempt to answer this question, I surveyed two types of regulations relevant to the issue of competition in the provision of professional services. The first is what the OECD report calls structural regulation. This refers to rules governing entry to the profession, the granting of rights to perform certain services and the business forms in which professionals may practise or, in other words, to rules defining who can practise, what they can practise and the acceptable forms of practice. The second type is behavioural regulations that specify what practices professionals may or may not engage in. I focus on two of these behavioural regulations: those involving fees for service and the advertising of professional services (also called practice promotion). I cover only a small number of professions that have been granted statutory powers of self-regulation — accounting, architecture, engineering, legal practitioners, medical practitioners and surveyors.7 I thus exclude from my purview other sizeable professional groups including the teaching profession, those in finance, insurance and other business services and the smaller professional bodies with statutory powers of self-regulation (e.g., planners, landscape architects, dentists).8 I rely on two main sources of information about the regulatory systems of the professions. Primary documentary sources include ordinances relevant to the profession, the constitutions and by-laws of the professional bodies and their codes of professional conduct. I also draw from government sources for statistical information and from secondary sources on particular professions. The second source of information is interviews with representatives from the relevant professional bodies.9 Below I review the structural and behavioural regulations of the selected professional bodies. In the final section, I attempt to generalize about restrictive practices based on the case studies and then turn to a discussion of why self-regulatory powers were delegated to certain professional bodies, whose interests are served by these regulatory systems, and the challenges currently facing the professions. Background information about each of the professions covered has been placed in Appendix 3.

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Accountancy The Hong Kong Institute of Certified Public Accountants (HKICPA) is the only statutory licencing body for accountants in Hong Kong and is responsible for regulation of the accountancy profession. It was originally established in early 1973 as the Hong Kong Society of Accountants, incorporated under the Professional Accountants Ordinance of 1972. The Society was rebranded as the HKICPA in September 2004.

Regulation of Entry The HKICPA regulates, under the Professional Accountants Ordinance, both professional membership requirements and the issuing of practising certificates. The normal first stage to professional membership is to become a registered student. 10 The second stage is to complete the Institute’s Qualification Programme (QP) which consists of a Professional Programme and a Final Professional Examination. Prior to the launch of the QP in 1999, registered students of the Institute had to complete the former Joint Examination Scheme (JES), run since 1982 in collaboration with the Londonbased Association of Chartered Certified Accountants (ACCA). This arrangement expired on 31 December 2001.11 Members of an overseas accountancy body (through completion of its professional examinations) currently recognized by the Institute’s Council and who have sat and passed the Institute’s Aptitude Test on local law and tax, as the case may be, are eligible to become members of HKICPA. The next stage is to meet practice experience requirements which vary depending on educational background. To be eligible to apply for a Practising Certificate,12 one must be a current member of the HKICPA and have had not less than four years of full-time approved accounting experience of which at least one year is post-qualifying experience or not less than 30 months full-time approved accounting experience if the experience acquired is all post-qualifying. An applicant must be ordinarily resident in Hong Kong and have passed the Institute’s Practising Certification examinations in auditing, local law and taxation. Members of the Institute who are graduates of the JES under the Hong Kong law variant or graduates of the QP are exempt from this examination requirement.

Forms of Business Practice A CPA holding a Practising Certificate who wants to practise under the name of a firm/corporate practice must apply to the HKICPA for registration

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of the name. A limited company registered under the Companies Ordinance is qualified to register as a corporate practice provided that it also satisfies the professional indemnity insurance requirements. Except with the approval in writing of the Council, a certified public accountant holding a Practising Certificate who knowingly (a) permits his name to be made use of in connection with the practice of public accountancy by a person who is not a certified public accountant holding a Practising Certificate; (b) employs, in or in connection with his practice as an accountant, a person whose name has been removed from the register, or (c) practises in partnership or through a corporate practice as an accountant with a person who is not entitled to practise as a certified public accountant (practising) is guilty of professional misconduct.

Fees HKICPA does not set standard fees for various types of services but members have certain responsibilities under the professional code of conduct in relation to fees. 13 They should inform a client in writing prior to commencement of any engagement of the basis upon which any fees proposed to charge that client for services will be calculated. Quoting a fee lower than another is not improper provided that care is taken to ensure that the client has a full and complete description of the services to be covered by the fee and the basis on which the fee is to be determined. Fees should not be charged on a percentage, contingency or similar basis in respect of audit work or reporting assignments incorporating professional opinions nor in preparation of tax returns. In the case of bankruptcies, liquidations, receiverships and administrations, the remuneration may, by statute or tradition, be based on a percentage of realizations or percentage of distribution. Contingency fees can be charged in such circumstances as advising on a management buy-out, the raising of venture capital, acquisitions search or sales mandates.

Practice Promotion Before the 1990s, accountants were not permitted to advertise their services but the rules have been relaxed during the 1990s. Under the current Code of Ethics, advertising and promotional material is permitted but should not contain references to scale charges or amounts of fees for professional services. Members should not make comparisons between their fees and the fee of others. But it is permissible to make reference to a free initial

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consultation at which fees will be discussed. The homepage of a website is not allowed to contain any references to scale charges or amounts of fees but information on scale charges or amounts of fees contained in a separate file on the website which is linked to the homepage is allowed. Members should not make generalized claims regarding size or quality of practice. They should not mail, deliver or send directly or indirectly material promoting their services. Leaflets, flyers, handbills, promotional gifts advertising or promoting the name of a member or member practice or its services may not be distributed in public places except at the location of events sponsored by the member or member practice during that event.

Medical Practitioners The Medical Registration Ordinance (MRO) of 1957 empowered the Medical Council of Hong Kong to handle registration and disciplinary regulation of medical practitioners including doctors and surgeons. Although the Medical Council is not a professional association, it is comprised predominantly of medical professionals.

Admission to Practice Under the MRO, medical graduates of the medical schools of The University of Hong Kong and The Chinese University of Hong Kong can be registered to practise medicine in Hong Kong once they have completed a 12-month internship training programme. Graduates from overseas medical schools who wish to practise medicine in Hong Kong are required to pass a 3-Part Licensing Examination and then to undergo a 12-month internship. In both cases, the internship training programme must be in hospitals accredited by the Central Internship Committee of the Hospital Authority. The Hong Kong Academy of Medicine has statutory authority to approve, assess and accredit specialist training within the medical and dental professions. Its 15 colleges conduct training and examinations to award specialist qualifications to qualifying candidates.

Forms of Business Practice The Professional Code and Conduct of the Medical Council does not impose restrictions on the form of business organization for private medical

254 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

practitioners. The Code does state however that a registered medical practitioner should not associate himself with a non-qualified person in providing any form of healing or treatment for his patients or improperly delegate his medical duties to non-qualified persons. A doctor who is an owner, a director or an employee of, or in a contractual relationship with, an organization which, either directly or indirectly, provides medical services or administers medical schemes, may only continue such association provided that the organization conforms to the Council’s specified principles and rules relating to good communication and information.

Fees The Professional Code has provisions (introduced in November 2000) on the providing of fee information to patients. Consultation fees should be made known to patients on request. In the course of investigation and treatment, all charges, to the doctors’ best knowledge, should be made known to patients on request before the provision of services. A doctor who refuses or fails to make the charges known when properly requested may be guilty of professional misconduct. Another rule is that a doctor should not charge or collect an excessive fee. A third rule is that a doctor should exhibit a notice in his clinic informing patients about their right to know the fees involved.

Practice Promotion Self advertisement, canvassing or publicity to enhance or promote a professional reputation for the purpose of attracting patients constitutes professional misconduct. A doctor in private or public service can provide information about his or her professional services to the public only in specified ways. For example, a doctor “may exhibit in connection with his practice any sign which, in relation to its nature, position, size and wording, is reasonably necessary to indicate the location of, and entrance to the premises concerned.” Not more than two signboards may be exhibited and only on the premises at which the practice to which they refer is connected. The signboards should not be ornate or illuminated (except at night or where situated in a dark place). Any such illumination must be the minimum necessary to allow the content to be read and must not flash. There are specifications of permitted sizes and measurements in an appendix to the code.14

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 255

There is a rule about what information may be carried in stationery (visiting cards, letterheads, envelopes, prescription slips, notices). Announcements of commencement of practice or altered conditions of practice (e.g. change of address, partnership etc.) are permissible only in newspapers provided that all announcements are completed within two weeks of the commencement/change taking place. There are restrictions on the size of the announcement and specification of what information it may contain. Similar announcement through other media (including printing, mailing, broadcasting and electronic means) is not permitted and photographs are not allowed. There is specification of what information may be included in telephone directory entries and an internet homepage. 15

Solicitors and Barristers The Legal Practitioners Ordinance grants powers to the Law Society and the Bar Association to regulate matters relating to the admission and regulation of their practitioners.

Admission to Practice There is no statutory body to recognize the qualification of solicitors and barristers since the Court is the authority for the admission of legal practitioners. The Law Society and the Bar Association have the power to set requirements for admission to the profession subject to the approval of the Chief Justice. The common route for gaining admission to practise as a Hong Kong solicitor involves three stages. The first stage is to complete the Bachelor of Laws degree from a Hong Kong university or an approved overseas university. Alternatively, prospective lawyers may undertake the LLB degree or its equivalent by distance education, commonly through SPACE of HKU. The second stage is to complete successfully the one-year Postgraduate Certificate in Laws (PCLL) offered at The University of Hong Kong and the City University of Hong Kong. Both HKU and CityU admit to this programme not only their own students but also those who have completed distance education studies or undertaken their LLB at an overseas university. The third stage is for those wanting to be admitted as solicitors (the majority of those completing the PCLL) to complete a two-year trainee solicitor contract under which they are employed by a solicitor and

256 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

undertake further on-the-job training with that solicitor. Once the training is completed, normally two years, and provided the individual has met residency requirements, he/she is eligible to apply for admission as a solicitor. Admission to practise as a barrister also requires successful completion of the PCLL degree followed by pupilage with a practising barrister, normally for one year (Redmond and Roper 2000:1–2). The rules governing eligibility for admission to practise as a solicitor were substantially revised as a result of Legal Practitioners (Amendment) Ordinance of 1994. Admission is no longer conditional upon Commonwealth citizenship or seven years’ residence in Hong Kong but open to anyone who complies with the professional requirements stipulated by the Law Society. The new rules make a distinction however in requirements for applicants from common law and non-common law jurisdictions. Those from common law jurisdictions seeking admission as a solicitor in Hong Kong first have to be entitled to practise the law of an overseas jurisdiction, have had at least two years of post-admission experience in the practice of law of that jurisdiction, and be in good standing in that jurisdiction. If they meet these requirements then they are eligible to sit the Overseas Lawyers Qualification Examination. If they pass all Heads of the examination that they are required to take (exemptions from some of the Heads are possible) and meet residency requirements, then they are eligible for admission to practise as a solicitor. Those from non-common law jurisdictions face similar requirements except that they must have had at least five years of experience in the practice of law of their original jurisdiction of admission. Another set of rules has governed the practice of foreign lawyers since the implementation of the Foreign Lawyers Registration Rules in 1994. A person who offers his services to the public as a practitioner of foreign law, other than a solicitor or barrister, is required to register with the Law Society as a Foreign Lawyer. A registered foreign lawyer is prohibited from practising Hong Kong law and from employing or joining into partnership with Hong Kong solicitors. A registered foreign lawyer can be employed as a foreign legal consultant by a Hong Kong solicitor but the number of foreign lawyers in the firm must not exceed the number of Hong Kong solicitors. Once registered, a foreign lawyer is subject to the jurisdiction of the Law Society and is bound by the Legal Practitioners Ordinance, subsidiary legislation and the Code of Conduct of the Law Society. In the case of barristers, The Legal Practitioners (Amendment) Bill 1999, enacted at the end of June 2000, amended section 27 of the Legal Practitioners Ordinance so that privileges previously accorded those called to the Bar in England or Northern Ireland, or admitted as an advocate in Scotland, to be admitted as barristers in Hong Kong were removed.16 With

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effect from 28 March 2003, admission and pupillage are governed by the new provisions of the Legal Practitioners Ordinance and its subsidiary rules. A person is now eligible to apply for admission as a barrister if he/ she is a holder of the PCLL from The University of Hong Kong or the City University of Hong Kong, is a solicitor in Hong Kong or is an overseas lawyer. A Hong Kong solicitor, to be qualified for admission as a barrister, must have been admitted as such for at least three years either immediately or in any case not more than 12 months before the date of his application for admission and during that time must have practised as a solicitor in Hong Kong or have been employed by the Government as a legal officer. An overseas lawyer, to be qualified for admission, must hold a currently valid certificate of admission as legal practitioner in his/her jurisdiction of admission; have been in practice for at least three years in the jurisdiction of admission; be a person of good standing in the jurisdiction of admission; and pass the Barristers Qualification Examination.

Forms of Business Practice The situation a decade ago was that solicitors in Hong Kong had to practise either as sole practitioners or in partnership with other solicitors. Multidisciplinary practices with other professionals were not permitted. Solicitors were not allowed to incorporate their practices as companies. Nor were they allowed to form multi-national legal practices so that if a person wanted advice on the law of Hong Kong and of another jurisdiction there was no multi-national legal practice to turn to. Law firms in Hong Kong could only practise as a local firm or as a firm of foreign lawyers.17 The AttorneyGeneral’s 1995 Consultation Paper recommended relaxation of these restrictions but these proposals were eventually dropped. Solicitors are still not allowed to organize their law practices in the form of a corporate structure, either with or without limited liability.18 They are not permitted to enter into partnerships with other professionals since such an arrangement would breach the rule against profit sharing with non-qualified persons. The only change has been that under Solicitors Group Practice Rules (effective from January 2003), two or more solicitors or law firms may conduct their businesses from the same address as separate practices but co-operate with each other in sharing the use of facilities and unqualified staff. Barristers are not permitted to enter into partnership or incorporated practices with another barrister, or with solicitors or other professionals. But there has been a relaxation of some rules, as recommended by the 1995 Consultation Paper on Legal Services, restricting access to barristers. A rule

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in the Bar’s Code of Conduct that prohibited an employed barrister from instructing a practising barrister without the intervention of a solicitor has been dropped. A rule that prohibited barristers from acting directly for a client without instructions from a solicitor (subject to such exceptions “as may be authorized by custom or the Bar Council”19 ) has been modified to allow “Direct Professional Access” whereby barristers may accept work directly from a member of a recognized professional body. The three recognized professional bodies at present are the HKICPA, the Hong Kong Institute of Company Secretaries, and The Chartered Institute of Arbitrators.

Fees The calculation of solicitors’ fees depends on whether they relate to noncontentious matters (e.g., commercial or property transactions) or contentious matters (litigation or the resolution of disputes). A decade ago, for some types of non-contentious matters (notably conveyancing), fees were charged according to one of several scales laid down by a Costs Committee set up under the Legal Practitioners Ordinance. Charging less than the scale fee could be considered professional misconduct and result in disciplinary action under Rule 3 of the Solicitors’ Practice Rules. Following the Attorney-General’s 1995 Consultation Paper which recommended that scale fees for conveyancing should be abolished on the grounds that the system offered no incentive to cost-efficiency and interfered with “normal market forces,” the Legislative Council (LegCo) passed the Legal Services Legislation (Miscellaneous Amendments) that included a provision to render the conveyancing scale fee non-binding.20 The Law Society’s Guide to Professional Conduct states that a solicitor must not overcharge. The client has a legal right, under the Legal Practitioners Ordinance, to apply to the High Court to have the disputed bill taxed (i.e., assessed) by a court official. If the court official (Taxing Master) reduces the bill substantially, the Court will report the solicitor to the Law Society for overcharging and disciplinary proceedings may be commenced against the solicitor. A solicitor may advertise his fees but any publicity concerning charges or a basis of charging must comply with the Solicitors’ Practice Promotion Code. Contingency fee arrangements are prohibited in contentious proceedings.21 Barristers normally charge fees for attendance in court in the form of a “brief” fee for attendance in court for the first day (inclusive of preparation) and a “refresher” for each subsequent day. Fees charged by barristers are not fixed by scale nor subject to direct control by taxation of the Court. A barrister is free to negotiate with a solicitor the fees he charges. Contingency fee arrangements are prohibited.22

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Practice Promotion Before 1992, rule 2 of the Solicitors’ Practice Rules stated that Hong Kong solicitors were forbidden, directly or indirectly, to invite instructions and to advertise their practice, subject to the provisions in the Solicitors’ Publicity Code and in the absence of reasonable justification. A new rule 2 was introduced in 1992 and the Publicity Code was replaced by the Solicitors’ Practice Promotion Code.23 In November 1996, the Council of the Law Society announced that the Chief Justice had agreed to two amendments to the Solicitors’ Practice Promotion Code with respect to advertising.24 First, a paragraph of the Code which formerly prohibited practice promotion “which may reasonably be regarded as being in bad taste” was replaced by a provision prohibiting practice promotion “which may reasonably be regarded as bringing the solicitors’ profession into disrepute.”25 Second, a paragraph which formerly prohibited practice promotion on television, radio, in the cinema and in public areas, with limited exceptions, was deleted. Practice promotion in any medium thus became acceptable provided the practice promotion complied with the general principles of the Code. The Practice Promotion Code states as a general principle that practice promotion shall be decent, legal, honest and truthful and then specifies in some detail what would be considered unacceptable forms of practice promotion.26 The Code of Conduct for the Bar of Hong Kong states that a barrister may not, or cause or allow to be done on his behalf, anything with the primary motive of personal advertisement or anything likely to lead to the reasonable inference that it was so motivated.27 The Attorney-General’s 1995 Consultation Paper suggested that the Bar Association should encourage the dissemination of information about the services offered and fees charged by barristers but the Code of Conduct still remains restrictive except that Members of the Bar Association may now specify in the Bar List their areas of practice, their qualifications, and the year(s) when they were called to the bar.

Architecture The Hong Kong Institute of Architects (HKIA) and the Architects Registration Board (ARB) are involved in the regulation of the architectural profession under the relevant ordinances.

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Admission to Practice The requirements to become a member of HKIA are (a) to hold a degree or a diploma in architecture recognized by the Council of HKIA, have two years of post-graduate architectural experience or its equivalent, and have passed the HKIA/ARB Professional Assessment or its approved equivalent, or (b) to be members of any other architects’ association, institution or registered bodies recognized by the Council for the purpose of admission.28 The qualifying examination, previously called the Professional Practice and Practical Experience Examination, was once offered only to graduates of HKIA recognized or accredited schools. Since 1996, candidates of different educational and professional backgrounds including those from schools of architecture that are not recognized may take the assessment and become qualified members of the HKIA and apply to become Registered Architects. The requirements for registration set by the Architects Registration Board include (a) membership of HKIA, or membership of an architectural body accepted by ARB as being of a standard not less than that of a member of the Institute; or have passed examinations in architecture and other subjects and has received training and experience as the Board may accept; (b) one year’s relevant professional experience in HK before the date of application for registration and (c) ordinarily resident in HK. Once registered, the practitioner is allowed to designate himself/herself as such, i.e., as an Architect or Registered Architect and to use the initials R.A. after his/her name. Another level of qualification involves becoming an Authorised Person (AP) in order to be eligible to perform certain types of work or duties. APs are experienced architects, engineers or surveyors who, once registered with the Building Authority, are authorized to submit building plans to the Building Authority for approval. To be registered as APs, applicants must have achieved professional qualifications and proven experience (Rowlinson and Walker 1995: 51–52). They are also required to attend a professional interview with the Authorized Persons Registration Committee.

Forms of Business Practice Multidisciplinary practice is acceptable for architects but a firm or company must not use the description of “architects” or “registered architects” or initials “R.A.” unless the business, so far as it relates to architecture, is under the full-time control and management of a registered architect.

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Fees The Code of Professional Conduct for Architecture used to state that a member shall uphold and apply the HKIA Agreement between Client and Architect and the Scale of Professional Charges contained in it.29 A member who is offering professional services must not revise a fee quotation to take account of the fee quoted by another architect for the same service. Members may not work “speculatively” nor compete with one another in respect of percentage fees or time charges. Where a prospective client is considering the engagement of one of a number of firms the members concerned may give guidance on the engagement of architects but shall not submit estimates of fees for competitive purposes. There is a complex system for setting fees in architecture that distinguish between “Normal Services” and “Other Services.”30 Normal Services are services normally provided by an architect for a building project. Such projects are broken down into a sequence of Work Stages A to F.31 Fees for Work Stages C to F are calculated as a percentage of the total construction cost of the works. Fees for Work Stages A and B and for other services which are likely to vary widely are charged additionally on a time basis.32 The Government used to follow the scale fee when inviting tenders for building projects. About five years ago, the Government instituted the “two envelope” system that introduced competitive bidding for all aspects of building projects including architectural fees. Private sector developers no longer felt obligated to adhere to the architects’ scale (interview). At an AGM of the HKIA in 2000, members voted to change the scale from a mandatory to a recommended scale. The Introduction to the Agreement between Client & Architect & Scale of Professional Charges now states that members are “encouraged to uphold and apply the Conditions of Engagement adopted by the Institute.”

Practice Promotion The professional code for architects states that a member must state relevant provable facts only in any method adopted for promoting professional services. Advertisements should be “unostentatious.” A member may not use a comparative or superlative in an advertisement “except in a measurable matter.” A member may not, either directly or by implication, make a comparison of his own with any other architectural practice.

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Surveying The Hong Kong Institute of Surveyors (HKIS) and the Surveyors Registration Board (SRB) are responsible under the relevant ordinances for regulation of the surveying profession.

Admission to Practice The main route to membership in HKIS is to hold a recognized academic qualification, join the Institute as a Probationer, then commence relevant divisional Assessment of Professional Competence (APC) and complete training which can last from 22 to 33 months depending on the division. There is an alternative technical route for graduates of approved local subdegree programmes. An alternative route applies to surveyors holding qualifications from recognized overseas professional surveying institutions.33 The requirements to become a registered surveyor include corporate membership of the HKIS or corporate membership of a recognized overseas body; or have passed examinations in surveying and other subjects and having received training and experience accepted by the SRB as a qualification of a standard not less than that of a member of HKIS. Other requirements include one year’s relevant professional experience in Hong Kong and to be ordinarily resident in Hong Kong. The role of land surveyors in measuring and setting out land boundaries is regulated by the Land Survey Ordinance. The Land Surveyors Registration Committee established under the Land Survey Ordinance vets applications for Authorised Land Surveyors. The requirements to practise as an Authorised Land Surveyor include corporate membership of HKIS (in the Land Surveying Division) or of a land surveying institute that the Committee recognizes and one year post-qualification land boundary survey experience in Hong Kong. The Buildings Ordinance sets out requirements for a surveyor to be eligible to take the Authorised Persons tests set by the Buildings Authority. The Companies Ordinance and the Securities and Futures Commission set out certain specific qualification requirements to act as professional valuers. Members of HKIS are eligible but this activity is not restricted to them.

Forms of Practice There are no specific restrictions on the business forms in which surveyors may practise.

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Fees Each Division in surveying has its own recommended scales of professional charges. The Building Surveying Division has a recommended scale of charge for works associated with alteration, addition, renovation, refurbishment, fire safety improvement, etc. It is in the form of a sliding percentage figure depending on total construction cost (from 15 percent for the first HK$500,000 down to 6 percent for construction cost over ten million dollars). Where work stages are defined, there is as in architecture a system for apportionment of fees for stage of service.34 The Land Survey Division has different recommended scale charges for type of surveying work: cadastral survey, geodetic survey, engineering survey, hydrographic and marine survey, aerial survey and photogrammetric services, and project management.35 The scale in the case of Quantity Surveying “is for use when an inclusive scale of professional charges is considered to be appropriate by mutual agreement between the employer and the quantity surveyor.”36 General Practice has a Scale of Charges that “is advisory in nature and published for the guidance of Professional Surveyors.”37 The HKIS Rules of Conduct states that a Member shall not revise his quotation for services to take into account the fee quoted by another Member for the same services if he has already quoted a fee for such services; and shall not quote a fee for professional services which is based on but less than the fee quoted or charged by another Member for the same services.

Practice Promotion The HKIS code states that a member shall not advertise his service in a manner derogatory to the dignity or reputation of the Institute or the surveying profession nor solicit instructions for work in a manner that may bring the Institute or the surveying profession into disrepute.

Engineering The Hong Kong Institution of Engineers (HKIE) is the only statutory qualifying body for engineers in Hong Kong. The Engineers Registration Board (ERB) was established under The Engineers Registration Ordinance enacted in 1990 to establish the professional status of engineers practising in various disciplines, and to bring under regulatory and disciplinary control

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those professionals responsible for safety and economic matters. A person who is on the register may use the title “Registered Professional Engineer,” or “R.P.E.,” with reference to the engineering discipline(s).38

Routes to Entry HKIE sets education, training, experience and professional assessment requirements for membership but with some variation in formal training requirements according to its specific disciplines. It provides four alternative routes to professional qualification: the Formal Training route, the General Experience route, the Mature route and the Product Template route. The criteria for the Formal Training route include (a) at least 25 years of age, (b) have an accredited honours degree or an acceptable equivalent in a recognized engineering or technological discipline, (c) have received adequate training (two years of pre-approved formal training for all disciplines except Civil, Structural, Environmental and Geotechnical disciplines which require three years), (d) have received sufficient responsible experience (two years for all disciplines except Civil, Structural, Environmental and Geotechnical disciplines which require one year), and (e) satisfied the requirements of Professional Assessment (an essay plus an interview). The age and honours degree criteria for the General Experience route are the same as those for the Formal Training route plus a minimum of five years of general experience, a minimum of one year of responsible experience, and meeting the Professional Assessment requirements. The Mature route is for those over 35 years of age and with either (a) recognized academic qualifications and a minimum six years’ experience or (b) non-recognized academic qualifications and fifteen years’ progressive experience, plus satisfying Professional Assessment requirements. The Product Template route is intended to accommodate those who have a status equivalent to professional membership from institutions other than those with which HKIE has reciprocal recognition agreements. The requirements include a minimum four years of relevant experience. A Preassessment Review Panel will determine if an applicant is eligible for Professional Assessment. If eligible, then the applicant must satisfy Professional Assessment requirements.39

Forms of Business Practice The HKIE Rules of Conduct specify that a person including a firm or company shall not use the description of “registered professional engineers”

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 265

or the initials “R.P.E.” unless at each place where the persons carries on the business of engineering, that business is conducted under the supervision of a registered professional engineer of the appropriate discipline. For multidisciplinary practice, the business, so far as it relates to engineering, must be under the full-time control and management of a registered professional engineer of the appropriate discipline.

Fees Rules of Conduct make no reference to fee setting.

Advertising There is no specific mention of advertising or practice promotion in its code but Rule 2 on Responsibility to Colleagues states that “A member of the Institution shall not maliciously or recklessly injure nor attempt to injure whether directly or indirectly the professional reputation of another engineer.” This presumably would apply to the making of invidious comparisons among engineers.

Summary and Conclusions The regulatory systems of the professional communities of practice discussed above share certain features. They are based on ordinances that establish qualifications to practise and qualifying bodies. The objects of the professional bodies as found in the relevant incorporation ordinances and constitutions of these bodies make reference to the function of regulating conduct of members of the profession. 40 Based on these objects, the professional bodies have formulated codes of conduct (varying in their degree of elaborateness) and rules of practice regarding behaviour towards clients, co-professionals and the public. There are provisions in the relevant ordinances for investigation and disciplinary panels (sometimes called tribunals or committees) that can be activated in the event of complaints that involve allegations of serious professional misconduct. There are also some variations in these systems. In the case of medical practitioners, the Medical Council with the powers to set admission standards, formulate a code of ethics and to take disciplinary actions was established separately from the professional associations.41 In the case of

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architecture, engineering and surveying, the regulatory regime is comprised of the relevant professional body plus the statutory registration boards. In the case of accountancy and law, the relevant professional bodies are designated by ordinances to handle all regulatory matters. These self-regulatory regimes grant the professions, at least in theory, a high degree of autonomy and status.42 They have the powers to set entry requirements, to write their own code of practice or ethics, to establish a disciplinary mechanism to deal with complaints from the public and to discipline members found to have violated practice rules or codes of conduct. The professional bodies, or the professional body plus the registration boards, or a Council in the case of medicine, control entry into the profession by determining and applying requirements for certification of necessary educational and experience qualifications, among other criteria. Registration in turn confers the right to use professional titles and the right to perform specified types of services although the latter rights are not always granted exclusively to a given profession. The scope and density of structural and behavioural regulations vary among the professions examined. Engineering appears to be the most liberal in this respect. Accounting, law and medicine seem the most highly regulated while architecture and surveying fall in between these extremes. Vestiges of guild-like regulations remain but there is also evidence of a relaxation of regulations affecting competition in the provision of professional services. Regulations governing entry have changed over the past decade, following Hong Kong’s commitment to observe GATS, to create a more level playing field with respect to the opportunity for nonlocal professionals to attempt to qualify locally. In the case of law, some regulations criticized by the Attorney-General’s 1995 Consultation Paper on Legal Services as hampering efficiency or adding to costs, have been changed. Barristers may now appear in court without a solicitor or his representative present in certain circumstance and the two-counsel rule was abolished. Members of recognized professional bodies now have direct access to barristers without having to approach solicitors first. The Law Society and the Bar Association have made rules to govern movement between each other’s profession. The issue of opening up rights of higher audience to solicitors remains unresolved although the Chief Justice announced on June 7, 2004, his decision to set up the Working Party on Solicitors’ Rights of Audience to consider whether solicitors’ existing rights of audience should be extended. The professional bodies of solicitors and barristers continue to impose restrictions on the form of business organization. Those for architects, solicitors and surveyors have had rules that restricted price competition

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 267

but these have undergone some changes. The once mandatory fee scale for conveyancing work has been abolished. The fee scale for architecture was undermined by the government’s decision to tender on price for public projects including architectural fees. Regulations restricting advertising remain although with some relaxation in the past decade in the case of accountants and solicitors.

Why Self-Regulation? Professional groups have self-regulatory powers because the colonial government granted them these powers. The regulatory systems were modelled to a large extent on those of similar British professional bodies.43 The Basic Law affirmed that the existing regulatory regimes for the professions would remain intact in the post-colonial period.44 The question then is why did the colonial government delegate these powers to particular professional bodies in the first place? An explanation might start with the general orientation and strategy of the colonial government towards social management of the economy. This entailed providing a framework within which occupations were generally free to organize themselves and control their own affairs. But why should the colonial government then privilege certain professional occupations by granting them statutory powers of collective self-management through their professional bodies or a council in the case of medical practitioners? One reason might be persistent lobbying by certain professional bodies for these powers. Another reason might be that the government recognized it lacked the resources and expertise to do the regulating. Moreover, it may have supported self-regulation for certain professions because it needed their knowledge, skills and support for its own administrative purposes. There is an illustration of this last point from accountancy (Vittachi 1999: 19). In 1966, the then Commissioner of Inland Revenue, Arthur Duffy, found the quality of business tax returns received by his office so abysmal that it made it difficult for his staff to do their job. So he contacted some senior accountants to ask what could be done about the situation. This led to the formation of an Accountants Working Party and eventually to the Professional Accountants Ordinance and the formation of the Hong Kong Society of Accountants. This example suggests the need for studies of the top-down and bottom-up processes involved in formation of professional bodies. It would also be useful to examine cases of professional bodies whose requests for statutory self-regulatory powers have been rejected.

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In Whose Interest? Self-regulatory powers grant the professions the right to set entry requirements for admission to practise, to decide what forms of business practice are acceptable, to set rules relating to fees, and to control advertising by members. The irony is that these powers have enabled the professional bodies to regulate competition in the provision of services, in ways that resemble guild practices, in contrast with the free market principles that supposedly underpin Hong Kong’s economic success. A justification for these restrictions is that professionals deal with matters that are critical to personal, organizational and societal well-being. Professional peers are in the best position to decide who is qualified to practise, what standards of practice are in the best interests of the public, what constitutes a serious violation of practice standards, and what punishment should be meted out to those who violate these standards. The control of competition in the provision of professional services is thus viewed as a solution to market failure arising from the asymmetric information between buyer and seller of professional services: Professional regulation is often addressed to a perceived “market failure” in the market for professional services. In some cases, consumers are unable to assess the quality of services that have been provided to them and, in some cases, are not in a position to determine which services they should purchase. As a result, it is feared that competition in professional services will lead to consumers being offered low quality and inappropriate services. (OECD: 7)

The Bar Association (1995: 3) used a similar type of argument in its response to the Attorney-General’s 1995 consultation paper on legal services: Only air-heads would argue that competition engenders quality and stimulates efficiency and cost-effectiveness when the consumer is in no position to judge the quality, efficiency and cost-effectiveness of the work done by the professional.

One problem with this argument is that, as the quotation from the OECD report suggests, consumers are not an undifferentiated mass. Corporate consumers presumably know what they want and whether they are receiving value for money. Individual consumers also differ in their knowledge about what constitutes effective and efficient professional service. Rising levels of education and access to information through the internet probably reduce, on average, the gap in knowledge between the professional and individual consumers.

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Another problem with the market failure argument is that studies cited by the OECD report find that the prediction of a race to the bottom among professional practitioners if restrictive practices are relaxed or removed is overblown. One reason why this doesn’t happen is that success in professional practice depends a lot on trust and reputation. Cutting corners can in the long run undermine trust, damage reputation and hurt business. Doing so in a way that violates professional standards also carries the risk of disciplinary action including the ultimate sanction of removal of the licence to practise. Of the regulations discussed, those relating to control over requirements for admission to practise are perhaps the most controversial. It is sometimes claimed that the self-regulatory professional bodies are prone to use their monopoly powers to exclude, or at least make it very difficult for, nonlocally qualified professionals to practise.45 This is the gist of remarks by a former LegCo member, Martin Barrow, during the 1995 debate on the Medical Registration (Amendment) Ordinance when he asserted that certain Hong Kong professions did not match “our overall profile of an open and international city.” He singled out in particular the medical and legal professions for “fighting year after year to maintain a closed shop.” Was this, he asked, in the interests of the community as a whole? (Proceedings of the Legislative Council 28 July 1995: 6439–40). Description of a profession as a closed shop has several possible meanings. One is that membership in the professional body is mandatory in order to be able to practise. This is the case for the professions covered here except engineering and also medicine due to its governance by a Council separate from the medical doctors’ associations. A second meaning is that the professional body designs its regulations for admission and enforces them in such a way as to effectively exclude non-local professionals from practising. Is it fair to describe the Hong Kong professions covered here as closed shops in this sense? Not entirely. First, the Immigration Department approves employment visas for nonlocal professionals to work in Hong Kong. Current Government policy is to welcome talent and professionals from outside Hong Kong to work and settle in Hong Kong. There are no quota or job sector restrictions for the admission of foreign professionals. Successful applicants may bring their dependants (in contrast with the admission schemes for Mainland talents and professionals). From 1997 to 2001, about 16,700 foreign professionals were granted visas to work in Hong Kong each year (Task Force on Population Policy 2003: 25).46 More detailed figures on the number of visas issued to new applications over the period 1996–2004 are shown in Table 2. Total numbers fluctuate from year to year, probably in response to the business cycle. It would be of interest to know whether the ratio of visas

270 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions Table 2 Number of Visas Issued under the General Employment Policy 1996–2004 Profession

1996

1997

1998

1999

2000

2001

2002

2003

2004

Investors

277

210

269

289

261

208

312

297

236

Lawyers

118

243

290

227

349

264

225

206

302

73

64

46

35

56

42

70

60

72

Medical & dental professionals Other professionals and technicians

2,180 4,028 2,949 2,535 4,354 4,079 2,869 3,002 3,451

Administrators, managers and executives

6,775 7,282 6,077 5,692 6,734 6,406 5,623 5,297 7,030

Chefs & professionals in food & beverage Teachers/Professors Sportsmen and entertainers Others Total

243

162

147

80

60

689

974 1,289 1,371 1,513

77

109

259

101

1750 2,005 1,799 2,087

1,302 1,822 2,548 3,212 3,179 2,848 4,085 3,746 4,764 2,727 1,776 1,305 1,080 2,234 2,846 1,631 1,218 1,130 14,384 16,561 14,920 14,521 18,740 18,520 16,929 15,774 19,173

Source: Immigration Department, unpublished table, for 1996 to 2003. Immigration Department website for 2004. Notes: 1. Figures exclude foreign domestic helpers, imported workers admitted under the Supplementary Labour Scheme and persons admitted to take up employment under schemes or arrangements catering for Mainland residents. 2. Figures are the number of visas issued to the new applications. 3. An entry visa for employment will normally be valid for three months. Depending on the nature of work or the duration of the relevant employment contract, a successful applicant will normally be granted an entry visa for employment for an initial stay of 12 months upon entry. He/she may apply for extension of stay shortly before his/her limit of stay expires. Such application will be considered only when the applicant continues to meet the eligibility criteria for employment in Hong Kong.

issued to professionals under the general employment policy to the total number of professionals in Hong Kong is rising, stable or declining but this is not possible since the classification system used by the Immigration Department does not match that used by Census and Statistics. It would also be useful to know how many applications there are each year in order to calculate an approval/rejection ratio but the Immigration Department does not provide this information. Second, most of the professional bodies have mutual recognition agreements with some overseas bodies that make it somewhat easier for members of those overseas bodies to qualify locally (and vice-versa).47 Third, there are procedures in place that involve the passing of examinations or other tests of competence to enable those who have qualified overseas to qualify to practise locally. As a result of Hong Kong’s

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 271

commitment to GATS, these requirements now apply to all qualified nonlocals regardless of the country where the original qualification was earned. How many take these examinations and how many pass? Information for medical practitioners and solicitors is shown in Table 3. In the case of Part I of the Licensing Examination for medical practitioners, the test of professional knowledge, the pass rate is extremely low. The pass rate for the Clinical Examination is on average higher but less than half pass. Only in the case of the Proficiency Test in Medical English do a majority pass (except for the year 2002). Relatively few licences are issued each year.48 In the case of law, pass rates are higher though they fluctuate from a high of 70 percent in 1999 to a low of 39 percent in 2003. The numbers taking these examinations have been declining since 1997 in the case of medicine and since 2001 in the case of law. Whether it is because of the perceived difficulty of the examinations, the declining attractiveness of working in Hong Kong or other reasons is worth further study. One argument for requiring qualified non-local professionals to pass local examinations or other tests of competence is to ensure they have an adequate understanding of local law or other relevant local conditions before they are allowed to practise locally. But is this necessary for all the professions? An Administration paper prepared for the Bills Committee on the Legal Practitioners (Amendment) Bill 1999 suggested it was not when it drew a distinction between legal and medical practitioners with respect to the need for local knowledge. It was considered desirable for foreign law graduates to familiarize themselves with Hong Kong’s local conditions and environment before they are admitted to practise local law. Medicine on the other hand was viewed as having a “common convention in their practice so that their knowledge can be applied universally. They are not required to adapt to local conditions in order to practice.” Dr. Leong Che-hung took strong exception to this remark and asked the Administration to withdraw it, which it later did. He argued that because there are a significant number of medical cases in Hong Kong with no precedence in other places, the need for a good knowledge of local conditions and environment applied equally to medical professionals practising in Hong Kong.49

Challenges Facing the Professions One of the attractions of Hong Kong as a place to do business is said to be the standards of its professional services (Enright et al 1999: 5). Yet some have claimed that the maintenance of these standards could be at risk due to the declining quality of students undertaking professional training locally in recent years (GML Consulting 2001: 3; Hong Kong Institute of Surveyors

272 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions Table 3 Results of Qualifying Examinations for Non-Locally Trained Medical Practitioners and Solicitors, selected years (a) Results of the Licensing Examination for Medicine, 1996–2002

Year

Examination in professional knowledge

Proficiency Test in Medical English (Sept.)

Clinical Examination

Sat

Passed (%)

Sat

Passed (%)

Sat

Passed (%)

1996

154

11 (7.1)

140

88 (62.9)

40

12 (30.0)

Licenses issued –

1997

178

13 (7.3)

90

48 (53.3)

27

9 (33.3)

11

1998

165

43 (26.1)

51

43 (84.3)

49

17 (34.7)

6

1999

165

20 (12.1)

57

39 (68.4)

49

9 (18.4)

16

2000

132

13 (9.9)

48

28 (58.3)

42

10 (23.8)

10

2001

124

13 (10.5)

50

37 (74.0)

35

9 (25.7)

10

2002

104

11 (10.6)

31

13 (41.9)

33

13 (39.4)

7

Source: Annual Reports of The Medical Council of Hong Kong. Note: A small number who took the proficiency test in medical English in March during 1997– 2000 are omitted from the table.

(b) Results of the Overseas Lawyers Qualification Examination, 1998–2003 1998

1999

2000

2001

2002

2003

105

143

205

219

174

129

Number passing

56 (53%)

63 (44%)

109 (53%)

114 (52%)

110 (63%)

50 (39%)

Number failing

49 (47%)

80 (56%)

96 (47%)

105 (48%)

64 (37%)

79 (61%)

13

13

11

12

10

13

Number of candidates sitting the examination

Number of jurisdictions represented

Source: Annual Reports, The Law Society of Hong Kong. Note: The majority of candidates are from Australia, England and Wales, and the USA.

2004: 21; Redmond and Roper 2000: xviii–xix). A proposed short-term solution to this problem is to change immigration policies to “make the entrance of competent people, regardless of nationality or ethnic origin, reasonably straightforward. The advantage for Hong Kong would be a larger international community that interacts with the resident population” (GML Consulting 2001: 3). Although relaxing requirements to practise locally could facilitate the inward migration of professional talent, thus diversifying the pool of available expertise and perhaps spurring improvements in standards of practice, it is doubtful whether professional bodies would welcome this measure because of the potential threat to its members’ economic opportunities.50

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 273

Others suggest that the self-regulatory professional model that has become institutionalized in Hong Kong is in itself now an obstacle to maintaining and raising the standards of professional practice. The strongest argument along these lines is found in the Harvard consultancy report on Hong Kong’s health care system. It claimed that while the licencing and registration requirements of medical practitioners adhered to international standards, “after the point of entry there is little in place to ensure that practice quality is maintained and enhanced.” The result was highly variable quality in the standard of medical services: Hong Kong, like many other countries, relies on professional selfregulation to assure the proper conduct of the medical profession. However, what Hong Kong lacks is internal checks and balances among the health professionals, and external oversight and accountability, to assure that the interest of patients are adequately protected. In Hong Kong, while the public depends on the medical profession to self-regulate, medical professionals have been reluctant to criticize or judge one another professionally. (Harvard Team 1999: 56–59)51

Following submission of the Harvard consultancy report, a number of measures were subsequently considered and implemented to improve quality assurance.52 The medical profession’s growing sensitivity to the need to demonstrate its public accountability is reflected in the formation by the Medical Council in 2001 of a 17-member Working Group on the Reform of the Medical Council to make proposals to reform the Council with a view to restoring public confidence and satisfying public expectations for more transparency, accountability and fairness. Other professional bodies have also introduced measures such as provisions for continuing professional education, more transparent disciplinary procedures or a system of practice reviews to strengthen quality assurance and accountability to stakeholders. These measures may be essential to strengthen confidence in the professions given the public’s growing skepticism of the “good intentions of the elite” but whether they will have a substantive impact in raising standards of professional practice or turn out to amount to little more than politically symbolic acts remains to be seen. A related criticism sometimes directed at the professions and professional bodies is that they have become increasingly inward looking, more protectionist in their orientation, and lacking in the development of a global perspective. C. Y. Leung (2004) for example has criticized Hong Kong professionals for a lack of entrepreneurial drive and urged that Hong Kong professionals and professional practices “should be less risk-averse, more mobile and more forward-looking” and take advantage “of a short window of opportunity for the professions in Hong Kong for the first and last time” to expand into the Mainland.

274 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

These propositions about the growing localism and conservatism of professionals and their associations are difficult to assess but several points may be relevant. First, it would not be surprising if professional bodies are slow to respond to a changing environment since organizational inertia is not uncommon in the case of non-market organizations. Second, differences probably exist among (and within) professional bodies in terms of their perceptions of the need to be entrepreneurial or more outwardly focused depending on where members see their opportunities to lie. Those in engineering (or at least some branches of it) may be more likely to view work and career opportunities to be regional and global since that is where employment and consulting opportunities for major infrastructure projects are, hence the importance they attach to negotiating reciprocal recognition agreements. This may also hold true for architects. Those in the medical and legal fields may be more likely to see their opportunities to be primarily local and thus to be more concerned about protecting themselves from external competition. Where professionals are employed may also make a difference. Those who work for the Hong Kong public sector would likely be less interested than those working in the private sector in seeking an expansion of business and work opportunities outside Hong Kong. Third, orientations to external opportunities would probably vary among individual professionals according to their career and life-cycle stage. One indicator of how outward oriented the professional bodies are is the extent to which they are seeking to take advantage of CEPA (the Closer Economic Partnership Arrangement) to open up cross-border economic opportunities. 53 The Hong Kong delegation to the CEPA High Level Conference on Professional Services held in Beijing in February 2004 included, in addition to high level Government officials, representatives from major Hong Kong professional sectors including legal services, medical and dental services, construction-related professional services, real estate agent services, and financial services (including accounting, insurance and securities). Two mutual recognition agreements were signed during the conference. Progress towards mutual recognition with Mainland counterparts has also occurred in other professional fields.54 These examples indicate that some professional bodies are keen on expanding opportunities for their members in the Mainland. Yet the number of professionals keen on taking advantage of these opportunities as they emerge will be limited because, as noted above, a substantial proportion of members of some Hong Kong professional bodies are government employees who would not benefit from a further opening of Mainland access under CEPA.55 The larger issue concerns the value of the self-regulatory regimes. Have they outlived their usefulness as ways of governing the professional communities of practice? Would Hong Kong be better served by bulldozing

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 275

these regimes? For those who believe in the power of markets to expand choices, promote innovation and reduce costs, the answer is obvious. Freidson (2001: 3) describes what implementation of this view would entail for the professions: Strip away their protective licenses and credentials […] and let there be truly free competition. Open the market to all who wish to offer their services. Consumers will separate the wheat from the chaff in such a market so that the best services and products will emerge at the lowest cost. Where services are complex, requiring the coordination of many specialists and expensive technology, as is the case for medicine, let them be organized by firms whose managers are devoted to efficiency. Then let the firms compete with each other for consumer choice.

But radical change of this sort is unlikely to happen in Hong Kong. For one thing, there appears to be no groundswell of public interest in such a change. A proxy for a consumer movement, the Consumer Council, is opposed to monopolies that limit consumer choice and keep prices artificially high. But its concerns about the professions seem to be focused mainly on the effectiveness and transparency of their complaint handling mechanisms, and the adequacy and truthfulness of information provided to consumers. It does support a competition law and a competition Authority to enforce rules against anti-competitive business practices. Such a law might be used to challenge professional regulations that restrict entry and competition for business. The government responded to this proposal by creating instead the Competition Policy Advisory Group (COMPAG) whose effectiveness in fostering greater competition is debatable.56 Second, it is doubtful if the Government would even consider it worthwhile to try and strip the professional bodies of their self-regulatory powers. It would be no easy task to come up with answers to questions about how standards could be maintained if self-regulatory regimes were demolished or to demonstrate how any alternative would function more effectively than the present system. Moreover, the political cost of attempting to bulldoze the self-regulatory regimes could be very high. The professional communities led by the professional associations and their functional constituency representatives on LegCo could be expected to mobilize to resist fiercely any policy proposals that would strip them of their selfregulatory status.57 But the threat of de-regulation might at least compel the professional communities to articulate “the principles underlying the institutions that organize and support the way they do their work” (Friedson 2001: 3), why they are worth defending against the logics of free market competition and efficiency, and how they contribute to enhancing Hong Kong’s flexible positioning in the regional and global economy.

276 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

Appendix 1. Selected Employment and Demographic Characteristics of the Professional Stratum A comparison of the activity status of professionals from the 1991, 1996 and 2001 population censuses shows that over 90 percent have the status of employees (Table A1). The share of employers among professionals has declined while the share of the self-employed has fluctuated, declining from 1991 to 1996 but rising between 1996 and 2001. Table A1 Distribution of Professionals by Activity Status, 1991, 1996 and 2001 Activity status

1991 No.

1996 %

2001

No.

%

No.

%

Employees

91,706

92.3

142,387

93.9

169,395

94.2

Employers

4,818

4.9

6,584

4.3

6,521

3.6

Self-employed

2,745

2.8

2,571

1.7

3,718

2.1

191

0.1

179,825

100.0

Unpaid family workers Totals

62 99,331

–

49

100.0

–

151,591

99.9

Source: Census and Statistics Department (1992; 1997; 2002)

The main trend in the distribution of professionals by industry is the growth in the number of professionals in financing, insurance, real estate and business services. As a result, their share of all professionals rose from 24.7 percent to 33.6 percent over the decade (Table A2). Table A2 Distribution of Professionals by Main Industry, 1991, 1996 and 2001 Industry

1991

1996

No.

%

Manufacturing

7,935

Construction

2001

No.

%

No.

8.0

12,239

8.1

14,029

7.8

4,128

4.2

7,150

4.7

4,250

2.4

Wholesale, retail and import/export trades, restaurants and hotels

3,093

3.1

5,876

3.9

7,872

4.4

Transport, storage and communication

3,913

3.9

6,963

4.6

10,220

5.7

Financing, insurance, real estate and business services

24,535

24.7

41,999

27.7

60,495

33.6

Community, social and personal services

52,967

53.3

74,597

49.2

80,524

44.8

2,760

2.8

2,767

1.8

2,435

1.4

Others Total Source: Same as Table A1.

%

99,331 100.0 151,591 100.0 179,825 100.1

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 277

The next two tables show trends in two social attributes of the professional stratum. Table A3 shows the number of females more than doubled over the decade and their share of professionals rose from 31 percent to 36.4 per cent. Table A3 Distribution of Professionals by Sex 1991

1996

2001

No.

%

No.

%

No.

%

Males

68,516

69.0

100,130

66.1

114,340

63.6

Females

30,815

31.0

51,461

33.9

65,485

36.4

Total

99,331

100.0

151,591

100.0

179,825

100.0

Source: Same as Table A1.

As shown in Table A4, the number of professionals born in Hong Kong doubled between 1991 and 2001. The numbers born in the Mainland and Macao rose from 1991 to 1996 and then remained about the same in 2001. The numbers born elsewhere increased by about 47 percent between 1991 and 1996 but then fell by about 21 percent by 2001. As a result, the share of the Hong Kong born among all professionals rose from 71 percent to 78.4 percent from 1991 to 2001. The proportion born in the Mainland and Macao fell from 15.7 percent to 13.3 percent while the proportion born elsewhere fell even more sharply from 13.3 percent to 8.5 percent. Table A4 Distribution of Professionals by Place of Birth Place of birth

1991

1996

2001

No.

%

No.

Hong Kong

70,528

71.0

109,110

The Mainland of China and Macao

15,603

15.7

23,048

Elsewhere

13,200

13.3

19,433

12.8

15,289

8.5

Total

99,331

100.0

151,591

100.0

179,825

100.0

Source: Same as Table A1.

%

No.

%

72.0

140,893

78.4

15.2

23,643

13.1

278 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

Appendix 2. Estimates of the Number of Professional Bodies Estimates of the number of professional bodies in Hong Kong vary widely. This is not surprising given the elasticity of the concept of a profession. The website www.hkprofessionals.org (accessed October 2004) claims that there were more than 200 professional associations in Hong Kong. A recent study carried out under the auspices of Civic Exchange on organizations/associations in the non-profit sector categorizes them into three main types: professional, industry/business organizations and trade unions (Uebergang 2003). Professional associations are defined as “organisations that aim to promote specific professions and/or professional practices.” Of the estimated 1,308 organizations in this sector, about half were trade unions/job training organizations, 31 percent were trade associations and about 9 percent professional associations (Table A5).58 Table A5 Types and Number of Organizations in the Non-Profit Sector Category

No. of organizations Percentage of total

International chambers of commerce

48

4%

Local chambers of commerce

53

4%

Management associations

21

2%

Professional associations

116

9%

Trade associations

410

31%

Trade unions and job-training organizations

660

50%

1,308

100%

Estimated overall total in the PB Sector Source: Uebergang (2003)

An earlier but more complete mapping of the population of professional associations is the Directory of Professional Associations and Learned Societies in Hong Kong. The 4th edition of this Directory, though outdated, identifies 339 professional associations/learned societies.59 Of these, 114 or about one-third are in the medicine and health sciences field (Table A6).

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 279 Table A6 Number of Professional Associations/Learned Societies by Field Number of associations

Percent

Medicine / Health Sciences and related

114

33.6

Business, Management, Administration, Finance, Insurance

39

11.5

Engineering

27

8.0

Science & technology

27

8.0

Communication / Mass Media / Advertising / Publishing

20

5.9

Education

20

5.9

Sector

Social Sciences

18

5.3

Art / Design / Fashion

16

4.7

Accounting

12

3.5

Humanities / Culture

10

2.9

Languages

9

2.7

Transportation

9

2.7

Law

7

2.1

Architecture / Building / City Planning

6

1.8

Hospitality Services / Tourism

5

1.5

339

100.1

Total

Source: Burton, Barry and Nancy Wong compilers 1996. Directory of Professional Associations and Learned Societies in Hong Kong, 4th ed. The Hong Kong Polytechnic University, Pao Yue-Kong Library.

Two other points about these associations/societies are worth noting. First, about 25 percent of the 339 bodies were founded in the 1950s60 and 1960s, 23 percent in the 1970s, 38 percent in the 1980s and 14 percent in the 1990s (up to the mid-1990s). Why a relatively high proportion was founded in the 1980s deserves further study. Second, about 25 percent in the mid1990s were a branch, section, or chapter of a parent body in the UK or of an international nature. These professional/learned societies vary in other ways aside from their age, origins and linkages with overseas bodies. They vary for example in their size, scope and resources, the social demography of their membership, their objects, whether they are growing, stable or in decline, whether they have statutory status and their linkages with other local professional bodies.

280 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

Appendix 3. Selected Features of the Professional Fields

Accountancy As of March 2005, there were 1,937 accounting and auditing firms employing 14,082 persons and 1,829 bookkeeping and general accounting firms employing 6,689 persons (Census and Statistics Dept [C&S] 2005a: 12). CPA firms provide such services as statutory audit services, tax advisory, company listing, corporate finance, company secretarial, liquidation and due diligence services as well as business advisory services to clients. NonCPA firms offer services such as bookkeeping, general accounting services, year-end financial reporting, tax filing and company secretarial work. The field is dominated by the “Big Four” accounting firms that provide audit services for the vast majority of Hong Kong’s listed companies. Smaller accounting firms serve mainly the non-listed local companies (Trade Development Council [TDC] 2005c). The number of registered certified public accountants increased from 8,415 in 1994 to 22,836 in 2004 (C&S 2005c: 170). As of October 2004, about 15 percent of HKICPA certified public accountants held Practising Certificates. About 45 percent worked in industry and commerce, 28 percent in public practice and 8 percent in the public sector. By type of practice, the number of firms grew from 1,017 in 2000 to 1,117 in 2004 while the number of corporate practices grew from 73 to 163 during this period (HKICPA 2004: 21–23). There are ten different accounting associations in Hong Kong (TDC 2005b). Of these, the HKICPA is the only statutory licencing body for accountants in Hong Kong and is responsible for regulation of the accountancy profession. The objects of the HKICPA found in section 7 of the Professional Accountants Ordinance include, inter alia, regulation of the practice of the accountancy profession, encouraging the study of accountancy, representing the views of the profession and preserving the profession’s integrity and status. HKICPA’s responsibilities include standard setting in the areas of ethics, audit and assurance, and financial reporting, monitoring compliance with these standards, dealing with complaints regarding the ethical and professional conduct of members, member practices and students, conducting investigations where there is reasonable suspicion or belief that a member has committed a disciplinable offence, hearing formal complaints and making disciplinary orders, registering qualified persons as CPA/CPA(Practising), and setting and conducting professional examinations.

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 281

The Medical Field Medical services are provided to the public by individual medical practitioners and by a variety of organizations including hospitals, screening centres, nursing homes, medical scheme administrators, insurance companies, health administration companies, managed care companies and counseling centres. Of the 75,963 persons employed in medical and health establishments in March 2005, about 72 percent worked in hospitals (Table A7). Table A7 Medical and Health: Establishments & Employment as of March 2005 Establishments Hospitals Clinics

13

Persons engaged 54,630

494

3,202

Private medical practitioners

2,572

8,832

Dentists

1,402

3,923

221

1,585

Medical and X-ray laboratories Dental laboratories

165

537

Medical, dental and X-ray laboratories

386

2,122

Veterinary services

103

620

Medical services, n.e.c.

651

2,634

Health and veterinary services, n.e.c. Total

754

3,254

5,261

75,963

Source: Census and Statistics Department (2005c).

There were 11,242 doctors with full registration in 2004 (Information Services Dept. 2005: 528). Of the 5,276 doctors (out of 9,905 with full registration covered) who responded to the 2003 Health Manpower Survey, 47.3 percent worked for the Hospital Authority and 39.1 percent in the private sector, with the rest working in the Government, and the academic and subvented sector. Among doctors working in the private sector, 75.3 percent were in solo practice followed by group practice (16.5 percent) and private hospitals (8.2 percent) (Department of Health 2005).

Regulation of Medical and Health Personnel Medical and health personnel fall into three categories depending on their regulatory status (Grant and Yuen 1998: 129–58). Medical practitioners, i.e. doctors and surgeons, were the first to come under statutory regulation with the enactment of the Medical Registration Ordinance in 1957. Dentists became regulated under the Dental Registration Ordinance enacted in 1959.

282 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

The Supplementary Medical Profession Ordinance of 1980 provides for registration, discipline and better control of persons engaged in occupations and professions supplementary to medicine. The Supplementary Medical Professions Council, established under the Ordinance, initiated the process of registration of the supplementary professions. The registration of five professions — medical laboratory technologist, occupational therapist, optometrist, physiotherapist and radiographer — was completed in 1999. The third category is comprised of 15 health care professions whose practice is not subject to a statutorily-based registration/enrolment and disciplinary system.

The Medical Council of Hong Kong The Medical Council is the main regulatory body for doctors and surgeons. It is not a professional association but it is comprised predominantly of medical professionals. Its powers include: • registration of medical practitioners. • setting the Licensing Examination. (This replaced the Licentiate Scheme on September 1, 1996.) After passing the Licensing Examination and completion of the prescribed period of internship, a person will be awarded a certificate of experience by the Medical Council and be accepted for full registration with the Medical Council. • establishing a Preliminary Investigation Committee to make preliminary investigations into complaints and make recommendations. • taking disciplinary action if after due inquiry into any case referred to it by relevant Committees of the Council there is evidence that a registered medical practitioner has been guilty of misconduct in any professional respect. • determining on recommendation of the Hong Kong Academy of Medicine the specialties under which names of registered medical practitioners may be included in the Specialist Register.

Other Professional Bodies As noted in Appendix 2, medical and health is the most densely organized field. The Hong Kong Medical Association, founded in 1920 as the Hong Kong Chinese Medical Association, brings together all medical practitioners practising in, and serving the people of, Hong Kong. Its objective is to promote the welfare of the medical profession and the health of the public. With a membership of some 5,000 from all sectors of medical practice, it

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 283

provides a collective voice for its members and aims to keep its members abreast of medical ethics and issues around the world. The Federation of Medical Societies of Hong Kong, founded in 1965, is comprised of medical, dental and allied health professional societies. Its mission is to promote high standards of practice by medical and allied health professionals in Hong Kong and to promote the welfare of and cooperation among all specialties it encompasses. Its membership has grown from the original 12 bodies to the present 107 (66 full and 41 associate members) from the following categories: bodies representing the interest of their respective professions; specialty societies; subspecialty societies; procedural sub-specialties; health administrative groups; nurses and midwives; therapists (physical, occupational and others); pharmacologists and the pharmaceutical industry; medical technologists; nutritionists; medical legal specialties; and interest groups and fraternity groups within the profession.

The Legal Field The legal profession in Hong Kong is comprised of solicitors, barristers, foreign lawyers and notaries public, all of whom are regulated by the Legal Practitioners’ Ordinance. The providers of legal services also include the Hong Kong Government, and the Courts (including tribunals). Legal services are provided outside the legal profession and the Hong Kong Government, e.g., (a) advisory within other professional firms as part of the professional services offered, e.g. the tax departments of accounting firms, construction claims consultancies; (b) in-house counsel, e.g. for statutory authorities in Hong Kong, (c) compliance officers (e.g. in investment fund management companies); legal specialists (legal departments within banks and other business organizations; and (e) quasi-legal areas, e.g. company secretarial work (GML Consulting 2001: 10–17). Solicitors commonly undertake work in conveyancing transactions, probate, the preparation of commercial and financial documentation, and litigation. They have the right to appear in the Magistracy and the District Court and appeals to the High Court from magistrates’ decisions but are not entitled to conduct High Court trials or appear before the Court of Final Appeal in open court. Barristers specialize in advocacy and litigation and have unlimited rights of audience in all courts and tribunals. A practising barrister is one who has been admitted to practise in Hong Kong and who is entitled and holds himself out as willing to appear in a court on behalf of a client or to give legal advice or services to a client but is not an employed barrister.

284 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

Practising barristers need to be instructed by solicitors in order to perform services to clients with certain exemptions. An employed barrister is a barrister who is engaged to provide legal advice or services for his employer under a contract of employment. As of May 2004, there were 5,233 solicitors with a current Practising Certificate of whom 60 percent were male and 81 percent ethnic Chinese. Of these, 1,857 were partners or sole practitioners, 2,606 were employed as assistants or working as consultants, and 770 were employed by private business or the Government. The 4,463 private practice solicitors work in 667 firms. Of these firms, 275 or 41 percent were sole practitioners. The 35 foreign law firms employed 236 foreign lawyers. 364 foreign lawyers were employed in local law firms. (www.hklawsoc.org.hk accessed 18 October 2004). As of March 2004, there were 882 practising barristers (C&S 2005b: 170).

Professional Bodies The Law Society of Hong Kong, the professional association for solicitors in Hong Kong, was incorporated in 1907 as a limited company. The aims of the Society in its Memorandum and Articles of Association include: • to promote high standards of work and ethical practice in the profession • to ensure compliance with the law and rules affecting solicitors • to guide solicitors on matters relating to professional practice matters and to help them develop their practices • to represent the views of the profession to the government and others • to provide services to its members The Legal Practitioners Ordinance grants statutory duties and powers to the Law Society including (a) a certifying role in the admission procedures; (b) the issuing of annual practising certificates and certificates of registration to Hong Kong solicitors, foreign lawyers and foreign law firms; (c) investigation and referral of allegations of professional misconduct to the Solicitors Disciplinary Tribunal; (d) intervention in a solicitor’s practice in cases of dishonesty, undue delay, bankruptcy, death or other causes; and (e) establishing rules for the conduct and education of solicitors and trainee solicitors. The Bar Association of Hong Kong was founded in 1949 and is registered under the Societies Ordinance. Its objects include maintaining the honour and independence of the Bar, improving the administration of justice in Hong Kong, the prescribing of rules of professional conduct, discipline and etiquette, and furthering good relations and understanding within the legal profession.

Professional Bodies and Professional Regulation in Hong Kong 285

Under the Legal Practitioners Ordinance, the Bar Association with approval of the Chief Justice may make rules: (a) regarding the professional practice, conduct and discipline of barristers and pupils, (b) regulating the issuing of practising certificates to barristers and employed barrister’s certificates to employed barristers, (c) providing for any continuing legal education or training that must be undertaken by barristers and pupils and the consequences of failing to do so, (d) providing for the conduct of an inquiry and investigation by a Barristers Disciplinary Tribunal, (e) requiring a barrister or pupil whose conduct has been established to the satisfaction of the Bar Council to amount to a breach of proper professional standards to pay the Bar Council’s costs of investigating the conduct which resulted in the order, (f) regulating the serving of pupilage and (g) governing the admission of persons on the basis of qualifications acquired outside HK.

Architecture There were 269 establishments in architectural design employing 2,303 persons in March 2005. Architectures also work in multi-disciplinary practices. In March 2005, there were 408 establishments employing 6,410 persons involving architecture in combination with disciplines of engineering and surveying services related to construction and real estate (C&S 2005a: 12–13). About half of the business of the architectural profession comes from the residential sector with the other half from the commercial, institutional and industrial sectors. Most work come from property developers and the government including the Housing Authority, Housing Society and Hospital Authority. For large landmark buildings, Hong Kong companies sometimes team up with foreign based firms to jointly bid for a job where specific expertise is required (TDC 2005b).

The Hong Kong Institute of Architects (HKIA) and Architects Registration Board HKIA was founded in 1956 as The Hong Kong Society of Architects and adopted its present name in 1972. HKIA began to offer its own qualifying examinations from 1974 and later began to seek statutory recognition for its role as a qualifying association. In the mid-1980s, members representing the architecture profession initiated negotiations with the then Lands and Works Department over the existing list of Authorised Persons under the Buildings Ordinance that included, besides architects, civil engineers and

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surveyors. Representatives from the engineering and surveying professional bodies were subsequently invited to participate in the negotiations. In late 1987, agreement was reached that (1) separate registration boards should be formed for architects, engineers, planners and surveyors distinct from the professional bodies and having full-time Registrars, (2) these boards should have a statutory basis to enhance consumer protection and public safety, (3) Government would be represented on the Boards by non-members of the profession concerned, but it was stressed that Government approved the principle of professional self-regulation, (4) membership of the registration boards would not be restricted to membership of the corresponding professional body, i.e., it should not operate as a closed shop (Engineering Registration Board, accessed October 2004). Bills were presented to LegCo in the early 1990s to establish registration boards for architecture as well as surveying and engineering and to incorporate the relevant professional bodies. The objects of the HKIA under its 1990 Incorporation Ordinance include (a) to promote the general advancement of architecture, (b) to raise the standard of architecture in Hong Kong and the standard of professional architectural services, (c) to maintain the integrity and status of and discourage dishonourable conduct and practices in the architectural profession, (d) to represent the views of the architectural profession to the public and the Government, (e) to apply the collective expertise of members of the Institute in an advisory role to the Government and the building industry, and (f) to conduct examinations to ascertain whether persons are qualified to be accorded professional recognition by the Institute. All practitioners have to register with the Hong Kong Institute of Architects. As of the end of March 2004, there were 2,022 registered architects (C&S 2005b: 171). The functions of the Architects Registration Board include establishing and maintaining a register of registered architects, setting and reviewing the qualifications standards of registration, advising the Government and the HKIA on registration matters, examining and verifying the qualifications of persons who apply for registration, handling applications for registration and renewal of registration, and dealing with disciplinary offences.

Surveying The real estate surveying, valuation and consultancy industry had 466 establishments employing 3,692 persons in March 2005 (C&S 2005a). Surveyors also work in multi-disciplinary practices with architectures and engineers. In the past many local surveying firms partnered with international firms, mainly from the UK, to bid for large international

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projects. In recent years, some local players have developed the capability to provide services of international standards on their own. Most newly established surveying firms seek to provide a range of consultancy services to their clients including development consultancy, project management, property consultancy to interior design and fitting out work (TDC 2005a). Services provided by the surveying profession are classified into four major categories: general practice, quantity surveying, building surveying and land surveying. General practice surveyors are concerned with the measurement, management, development and valuation of land, property and buildings, with the negotiation of sales and lettings and with the financial aspects of investment in property. Services offered include valuation, development consultancy, negotiating on behalf of clients for purchase, sale or lease of all types of lands and buildings, and property management. Quantity surveyors are construction cost consultants. Major employers of quantity surveyors are private developers, governments and related bodies, contractors, mining and petrochemical companies and insurance companies. Building surveyors advise clients on construction and economics of buildings, law related to buildings, building maintenance and project management. Land surveyors are involved in cadastral surveying, engineering surveying, geodetic surveying, topographic surveying and digital mapping, photogrammetric surveying and hydrographic surveying (TDC 2005a).

The Hong Kong Institute of Surveyors (HKIS) and Surveyors Registration Board The first body formed by surveyors in Hong Kong was a Hong Kong chapter of The Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors (RICS) that was founded in 1929. Until 1950, most qualified surveyors were recruited from the UK and were members of the RICS. In the 1960s, the Hong Kong Polytechnic started to offer diploma courses in surveying (HKIS 2005). In 1976, a group of local and expatriate professional land surveyors founded the Hong Kong Institute of Land Surveyors (HKILS). In 1978, the Hong Kong Branch of RICS set up a working party to examine the possibility of establishing a local institute of surveyors, leading eventually to the founding of the HKIS in 1984 which was registered under the Societies Ordinance. HKIS was incorporated by the Hong Kong Institute of Surveyors Ordinance passed in 1990. In 1991, HKILS amalgamated with HKIS. The Hong Kong Branch of RICS (Hong Kong Branch) dissolved on 31 August 1997, leaving the Hong Kong Institute of Surveyors as the only professional body representing the surveying profession in Hong Kong. In 2004, RICS

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re-established a local Hong Kong branch (HKIS 1999; HKIS 2005 www. hkis.org.hk; “RICS Returns”, The Standard 2004). HKIS objects include (a) to secure the advancement and facilitate the acquisition of that knowledge and expertise which constitutes the profession of a surveyor,61 (b) to promote, support and protect the character, status and interests of surveyors in Hong Kong, and (c) to maintain and promote the usefulness of the profession of surveyors for the public advantage. As of August 2005, HKIS had 3,476 Members and another 451 Fellows. Of these, about 41 per cent were in the Quantity Surveying division, 36 percent in General Practice, 17 percent in Building Surveying and 5 percent in Land Surveying (www.hkis.org.hk/hkis/html/membership_statistics). The Surveyors Registration Ordinance was passed in 1991 to set up a Surveyors Registration Board (SRB) to administer the registration of surveyors. The functions of the SRB are similar to those of the registration boards for Architect and Engineering. It also designates divisions within the surveying profession under which a person may be registered.

Engineering Engineering services can be divided into construction-related and nonconstruction related sectors. The former includes civil, structural, building, electrical and mechanical engineering services. The latter includes electrical and electronic design and engineering services, mechanical and chemical, industrial and marine, computer hardware and other commercial research and development testing services. It is estimated that about 20,000 qualified engineers are practising in Hong Kong of whom about half work in the construction industry (www.hkprofessionals.org). In March 2005, in the construction related sector, there were 89 establishments employing 485 persons in structural engineering, 52 firms employing 339 person in building services engineering, and 159 establishments employing 3,114 persons in civil and geotechnical engineering (C&S 2005a: 12–13). In addition, some engineers work in multidisciplinary practices with architects and surveyors. Others work for the government and utilities companies. Some are involved in research and engineering education and some work with international consultancy firms (TDC 2005a).

The Hong Kong Institution of Engineers (HKIE) HKIE is the only statutory qualifying body for engineers in Hong Kong. It encompasses engineers of 17 different disciplines and aims to enhance their

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common good and to ensure that their practice maintains a high professional and ethical standard. It sets standards for the training and admission of engineers and makes rules governing the conduct of its members (HKIE 2005). First established as the Engineering Society of Hong Kong in 1947, it merged in 1972 with the Hong Kong Joint Group of the Institutions of Civil, Mechanical and Electrical Engineers of London. In 1975, it was incorporated by government ordinance to set professional standards and to encourage professional development for local engineers. In 1982, the HKIE qualification was recognized for government service appointments. As of March 2005, HKIE had 9,834 corporate members (836 Fellows and 9,898 Members). The total membership including companions, associate members, graduate members, student members and affiliates was 19,224 (HKIE 2005). HKIE has relationships and agreements on mutual recognition of qualifications with a number of overseas engineering institutions.

The Engineers Registration Board The Engineers Registration Board was established under The Engineers Registration Ordinance enacted in 1990 to establish the professional status of engineers practising in various disciplines, and to bring under regulatory and disciplinary control those professionals responsible for safety and economic matters. A person who is on the register may use the title “Registered Professional Engineer,” or “R.P.E.,” with reference to the discipline(s). Under the Ordinance, the qualification for registration is closely linked with the qualification standard for membership of the HKIE but HKIE membership is not a prerequisite for registration. Membership of an engineering body which is accepted by the Board as being of a standard not less than that of a Member of the HKIE within a discipline may also be acceptable, provided that other conditions are also met including that the applicant is ordinarily resident in Hong Kong and has at least one year’s relevant post-qualification professional experience in Hong Kong. In some circumstances, the Government may require (by law or other means), or recommend, that certain duties be carried out only by Registered Professional Engineers in appropriate disciplines. Most activities that are regulated are related to safety aspects of buildings, slopes, machines, equipment, etc. Testing and certification of certain activities may require a particular engineering skill or expertise (e.g., safety of suspended working platforms, lifting appliances and lifting gears, buildings and scopes). Registration is required to be eligible to apply for listing as an Authorised Person, Registered Structural Engineer and Registered Geotechnical Engineer (which went into effect in 2004) under the Buildings Ordinance.

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Appendix 4. Progress towards Mutual Recognition of Qualification between Hong Kong Professional Bodies and Their Mainland Counterparts Under the mutual agreement between the HKIA and the National Administration Board of Architectural Registration in the Mainland, each institution conducts a two-day training session for applicants from the other side. Each applicant must pass a simple assessment before obtaining recognition from the other side. For the first two years, the quota of mutual recognition for each place is 120 applicants per year. Applicants must have practised for at least five years after attaining their original qualification before applying for mutual recognition. Once qualification has been obtained, Hong Kong architects become Class I registered architects and can practise in architect firms in the Mainland or set up wholly owned architect firms according to regulations framed by CEPA and the Ministries. Those from the Mainland who qualify are awarded HKIA qualifications (http://www.hkia.net). This scheme subsequently attracted more than 400 applicants from Hong Kong and the Mainland. After screening, 120 candidates from each jurisdiction were shortlisted to participate in the first training and assessment in Shenzhen. Ninety-nine Mainland and 106 local architects successfully passed the first mutual recognition assessment. The second agreement is a draft mutual recognition agreement for structural engineers between the HKIE and the National Administration Board of Engineering Registration (Structural). Full Agreement was expected to be forthcoming with the first batch of structural engineers receiving their qualification towards the end of 2004. (“CEPA High Level Conference on Professional Services held in Beijing” Hong Kong Government Press Release. (http://www.info.gov.hk/gia/general/200402/17/0217199.htm)). Progress on mutual recognition of qualifications has also been made in the case of property valuers with 97 Hong Kong professionals certified as real estate valuators in the Mainland as of August 2004 (http://www. chamber.org.hk/info/the_bulletin/2004/august04/ceu.asp). It was announced in August 2004 that after months of discussion between the Hong Kong Society of Accountants (HKSA) and the Ministry of Finance of the People’s Republic of China (MOF) and the Chinese Institute of Certified Public Accountants (CICPA) via the MOF/CICPA/HKSA Joint Task Force, an agreement on Mutual Examination Paper Exemptions for Mainland and Hong Kong Accountants had been signed between the MOF and their Hong Kong counterparts, the Financial Services and the Treasury Bureau of the HKSAR Government, alongside the signing of the Closer

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Economic Partnership Arrangement (CEPA) II agreement in Beijing. The agreement provides for persons who have passed the PRC CPA Uniform Examination to be exempted from two subjects: Module B Financial Management and Module C Auditing and Information Management of the HKICPA Qualification Programme (QP); and for persons who have passed the QP to be exempted from two subjects: Financial Cost Management and Auditing of the PRC CPA Uniform Examination.

10

Education Reforms and Social Mobility: Rethinking the History of Hong Kong Education Bernard Hung-kay Luk, Angel Lin, Choi Po-king, Wong Ping-man*

Introduction This chapter aims to bring to view the historical role of education in facilitating Hong Kong as a vibrant space of flow and growth. The provision of equal opportunity for education has absorbed, educated and retuned various waves of immigrants as well as the local-born generations, especially since the 1970s. It has allowed them to settle in the territory, pursue their life chances and enjoy social mobility. The integrity of the system has thereby allowed the city to be competitive in the region in circulating and nurturing its needed entrepreneurial and professional talents. The story of Hong Kong’s education since World War II is an epic which has been well documented. As the industrial economy reached the peak of its development in the 1980s, the school system also attained one of the highest rates of secondary education completion in the world (Lu 2003: chs. 6, 7 and 9). While the outline of the history — in terms of provision of schooling, development of curriculum and examinations, financial investment in and economic returns from education, etc. — has been clearly delineated, a deeper understanding of how Hong Kong’s education related

*

Angel Lin is Associate Professor in the Department of English and Communication, City University of Hong Kong. Choi Po-king is Associate Professor in the Department of Educational Administration and Policy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. Wong Ping-man is Associate Professor and Department Head in the Department of Educational Policy and Administration, The Hong Kong Institute of Education.

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to the social and economic change which the territory has experienced in the past 60 years, will provide useful insights for the further development of Hong Kong society and its education in the twenty-first century. Many aspects of Hong Kong’s social history in the second half of the twentieth century cannot be fully understood without regard to the history of schooling. For example, the impressive long term stability of Hong Kong society despite enormous changes in the economy, massive population mobility, and gross and persistent inequalities has puzzled many scholars (e.g., King 1975; Lau 1982). One important and often overlooked factor was schooling. This essay will focus on the significant achievements in social mobility through schooling in the half-century following World War II, and how that pattern may be eroded by the education reforms of the past several years, especially with regard to the system of funding and management of schools, the structure of curriculum and examinations, and the policies on language in schools.

Expansion of Schooling and Rise of School System in the Post-War Era At the time of the Japanese surrender in 1945, there were only a few thousand pupils still in school, down from the height of more than 120,000 in 1941. Reconstruction and rehabilitation from the ravages of war was a monumental task, but it happened quickly. Then Education Department development plans to build primary schools and train requisite teachers were put in place. The Hong Kong government undertook to provide mass primary education, but there was as yet no intention to make that universal, nor for the government to take sole responsibility, but only to meet part of the demand, and with the help of other providers (Sweeting 1993: ch. 5; Lu 2003: ch. 6). By the mid 1950s, so many schools were being built that on average a newly constructed building was opened every two and a half weeks, and each school building was made to do double or even triple duty, housing various sessions during the day. The policy of compulsory education for children aged six to twelve was finally adopted in 1971, when the government was certain that the supply of day school places was adequate for universal attendance (Lu 2003: 155). In terms of pupil numbers, the expansion of primary education was nothing short of spectacular. From 80,000 in 1946–47, enrollment increased ninefold in a quarter century to peak at 720,000 in 1970–71 (Luk and Wu 1983: Graph 4.1). Thereafter the number shrank with declining birthrates, but enrollment in primary education of the six- to twelve-year-olds remained universal.

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It was not until 1977 that the government committed itself to providing free and compulsory junior secondary education, to be phased in during 1978–81; and free places in senior secondary school for a majority of the 16– 17 age group thereafter (Lu 2003: 155). By 1982, there were 430,000 pupils in secondary schools; some 60% of the 17-year-olds were completing Form 5, and 20% went on to matriculation classes. These percentages continued to grow through the 1980s (Luk and Wu 1983). The development of education in post-war Hong Kong was more than building schools and providing places for more and more pupils. Just as important were the integration and localization of the school system. From the pre-War mishmash of Chinese and Western, traditional and modern modes of schooling, by the late 1960s to early 1970s, Hong Kong had a complete and integrated school system of its own, with pupils going through a six-year primary cycle and a five-year secondary cycle under an essentially unified curriculum, being taught by teachers most of whom were locally educated and trained, using textbooks which were locally prepared and produced, to study for locally conducted examinations which would certify them for employment or admission to one or another of the two local universities, the polytechnic or postsecondary colleges. This integrated and localized school system went hand in hand with industrialization to provide for a rapid expansion of opportunities, to produce social change, and to give rise to a sense of belonging with the local community (Lu 2003: chs. 11, 13).

Class Structure and Social Mobility With industrialization, the way people earned their living changed. So did the way work was organized in society. In the early 1950s, before Hong Kong became a fully industrialized economy and society, the occupational pyramid was similar to that of other colonial port cities in various parts of the world. It consisted of a few colonists and compradors at the top, assisted by a moderate number of clerks, and far below them, a larger number of skilled workers and artisans, and further down, hundreds of thousands of unskilled and unschooled labourers — the domestics, coolies and factory hands. The division between “brain” and “brawn” was sharp and almost absolute. The poor worked very hard to live at a subsistence level, and the rich were often idle collectors of profit from slow-moving trade and other businesses (B. Luk 1992, Agassi and Jarvie 1969, Hopkins 1971). By the 1980s, however, the rich were no longer compradors, but industrial magnates and managing directors of corporations, and were seldom able to remain idle at their fast-paced, competitive businesses. They

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were advised and assisted by university-educated executives, professionals and technologists, many of whom were sons and daughters of mid-century peasant and worker immigrants, so were many of the clerical workers, technicians, and shop floor supervisors, who had been educated in secondary schools and technical institutes. Further below in the hierarchy were the still-massive lower classes of semi-skilled or unskilled workers in the factories, mostly with primary or junior secondary education. The whitecollar middle strata of the occupational hierarchy had become much larger than before, and the gradation between them, the upper crust, and the blue-collar workers had become more smooth, the divisions less absolute, and the possibility of upward mobility considerably bigger. Hong Kong society in the 1980s was certainly not free of social inequality and snobbery, but the traditional contrast between the haughty upper class and the servile, docile poor had all but disappeared in the relative openness of the new occupational and social hierarchy of the industrial society (Lui and Wong 1995). In this society, the economic benefits were not distributed evenly. In 1966, the poorest 40% of Hong Kong’s population earned 13.1% of the income, while the richest 20% of the population received 58%. The gap between rich and poor narrowed somewhat during the 1970s. By 1981, the poorest 40% of the population earned 14.3% of the income, while the richest 20% of the population received 50.7%. Evidently, the emerging middleincome strata benefited considerably. While most people in Hong Kong enjoyed rising standards of living during the 1970s and 1980s, the gap between rich and poor, as measured in the Gini coefficient, remained very wide, in fact, among the widest in the industrial world (Song 1984). Like in other industrial societies, the Hong Kong occupational hierarchy was closely linked to the educational pyramid. The census of 1981 showed significant differences between the salaries earned by workers in various categories of occupations: “administrative and managerial workers” had a median monthly salary of nearly $5,000, that of “professional, technical and related workers” was about $3,000, while those of all other occupational groupings were under $2,000. The same census also showed that income was directly related to educational attainment, and that the most marked difference was between those whose jobs usually required some kind of tertiary education and those that did not. University graduates had a median monthly income of $4,000; persons with polytechnic and other postsecondary diplomas earned median incomes of between $2,500 and $3,200; persons with only Form 5 education, $1,700; persons with only primary schooling, 1,400; and those with minimal or no schooling made only $1,100 (Hong Kong Census and Statistics Dept. 1982: Diagram 22).

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There was, however, a ray of hope for those at the lower end of this pyramid of jobs and salaries. Since education was expanding rapidly during the decades of the 1950s to 1980s, it provided more and more boys and girls with an opportunity — to be sure not an equal one — to proceed through the school ladder beyond his or her parents’ station in life. Hence, like in traditional China, a person who was not happy with his lot in life could hope and strive for his offspring to succeed in the imperial examination system, and through that, to status, wealth and power. It was no accident that examination success was a recurrent motif in the Cantonese opera films which was the main form of mass entertainment in the 1950s (e.g., Hong Kong International Film Festival 1978). As the economy grew and more and more jobs in the middle and upper levels of the pyramid became available, many parents from humble origins saw this wish fulfilled. The economy and the school system together opened up opportunities for upward mobility for the mid-century immigrants to Hong Kong who made up some three-quarters of the population (Zeng 1985).

Life Chances and the “Hong Kong Myth” in 1950s–80s Industrialization loosened up the socio-economic pyramid in Hong Kong, and made possible the emergence of what may be called a meritocracy through schooling and public examinations. From the 1950s to 1980s, whether or not a person could obtain, hold and advance in an occupational position, and enjoy its benefits, depended on merit. The important consideration was one’s ability to be effective and efficient in achieving what was expected of an incumbent of the position (B. Luk 1992). This was a requirement due to Hong Kong’s niche in the highly competitive international economy. The system of education which evolved during those decades, while continuously expanding as a whole, maintained a relatively narrow tertiary level, with government policy strictly limiting admission quotas to the universities and polytechnics. This was, to be sure, a kind of “elitism”. Some of the distinguishing features of the system — the incessant pressure of examinations year after year, and highly competitive selection from stage to stage: the Secondary School Entrance Examination, the School Certificate Examination, the Matriculation Examinations for admission to higher education, may be considered part and parcel of Hong Kong’s competitiveness as a globally oriented economy (B. H. K. Luk 1989). This intensely competitive elitism left little room for another kind of elitism, that

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of hereditary privilege. The public examinations, and especially the entrance selection exercises of the local tertiary institutions did not, and could not, reserve places for unqualified children of privilege. The sons and daughters of the upper and middle classes had to compete in the same way as the young people from the public housing estates, or they could withdraw from the race and go overseas. The common belief was that for Hongkongers, the more schooling one enjoyed, the better one performed in the public examinations, the brighter would be the employment prospects, and the higher the pay. This was what may be called the “Hong Kong myth”, namely, that those who had ability would “make it”, via schooling and examinations. Like all social “myths”, it was based partly on fact, partly on commonly accepted views that might be exaggerated, but which helped to hold society together. For the “myth” to survive in the longer term, it was important for people to believe that while they themselves might have been left behind by the system, their children still had the chance to do better. This depended on schooling that was credibly open and public examinations that were perceived to be fair, and which together provided more or less equal opportunity to all. The “myth” was of course not entirely congruent with fact, but neither was it merely a cruel hoax. Middle and upper class children certainly enjoyed various advantages in schooling over their blue-collar contemporaries, such as parents who had more knowledge and time to supervise homework, better housing environment for studying, more money for tutorial lessons or to attend boarding school overseas, and so on. They also had advantages at work, such as family connections that in some cases could help them land a good first job. On the other hand, during the 1970s and 1980s, there was a blue-collar majority among students in local universities and other publicly funded tertiary institutions (Luk and Wu 1983: ch. 7; Zeng 1985). When these students of working class background graduated, they joined the ever-expanding labour market and worked in the same kind of positions as their more privileged colleagues. Such social mobility of course did not eliminate the influence of the “old families” prominent in the pre-War or earlier post-War decades, but certainly did greatly dilute it. Insofar as the public consensus of meritocracy and social mobility existed, people were encouraged to study and work hard in the hope that they or their children would achieve success and distinction in the rat race. In other words, a credible measure of equality of opportunity compensated for the patent inequality of income. In this way, meritocratic elitism was a pillar for “stability and prosperity” — stability in society and good order and discipline in the schools. It also accounted for much of the examination pressure which pervaded all levels of Hong Kong education.

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Social and Policy Factors for the “Hong Kong Myth” Over the decades, Hong Kong’s educational system was able to help bring about a good measure of social mobility and meritocracy, and to establish the social myth, owing to a combination of factors. Most of the post-War inhabitants immigrated from the south China countryside, and traditional ideas about the social and economic benefits of studying and passing examinations had remained strong among them, as evinced in the popular culture. Parents commonly expected their children, especially the sons, to repay them by studying hard to distinguish themselves and achieve wealth and status (B. Luk 1992; Lau 1981). In industrializing Hong Kong, such aspirations were held within a socioeconomic context of long sustained economic growth which opened up many new opportunities to young people who were completing various levels of schooling. The jobs did not always match the fields of study; nevertheless the remuneration usually matched the level of credentials attained (Hong Kong Census and Statistics Dept. 1982: Diagram 16). This helped Hong Kong to avoid the problem of graduate unemployment which plagued so many other developing or industrialized societies. In its education policy, at least since the end of the 1960s, the Hong Kong government was always careful to nurture this social mobility and to prevent serious dislocation between the sizes of graduating classes and available employment opportunities at corresponding levels (Education Commission 1988). Studying abroad was used as a safety mechanism (Luk and Wu 1983: ch. 14). So, many young people from lower middle and poorer families did experience significant rises in socio-economic status via the ladder of schooling and examinations. While they certainly did not constitute a majority of their peers from similar backgrounds, they were in large enough numbers to be a visible and credible example for all (Luk and Wu 1983: ch. 7). The traditional peasant ideal of studying for the objective of family betterment was successfully adapted to modern conditions, empirically found to be valid by many families, and reinforced in the popular mind. The development of the system of school management and funding, and of structures of curriculum and examinations, also were important factors in reinforcing these ideas, rewarding particular kinds of achievement and promoting social mobility. Over the decades of the 1950s to early 1980s, these arrangements moved in the direction of equal provision for all children. The curriculum in primary and secondary school became a unique (although not always happy) amalgamation of British and Chinese traditions, which was more or less adapted to local needs. Its most important aspect, however, was that it provided in effect a single stream of schooling for all local

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pupils. Vocational secondary education on British models was introduced by the government time and again, but proved to be consistently unpopular with the parents. It failed to attract very many families, who demanded that it be changed into something more like British grammar schools which provided access to the competitive examinations for university entrance (Lu 2003: 155–158). Almost all primary and secondary pupils attended the same type of school, followed essentially the same courses of study, without regard to family background or to the wealth or poverty of the district of residence (B. H. K. Luk 1989). And they took part in the same exercises for allocating school places, the same public assessments at Primary 6 and Form 3, and the same public examinations at Form 5 and Form 6 or 7 (Lu 2003: 123–126, 164–165). The system of public selection exercises and examinations became the great equalizer in Hong Kong society — a common initiation rite for children of all backgrounds to prove their adulthood together, and a common currency of academic worth that overrode the importance of old school ties. Pupils from the “prestigious schools” often attained better results in the public examinations because they were better prepared, not because they were better connected. The fairness of the examinations was further reinforced with various technical safeguards which were instituted by the Hong Kong Examinations Authority and the Independent Commission Against Corruption in the 1970s. And the examinations themselves became the criteria and the means by which new schools in working class neighbourhoods could attain “new prestigious school” status. The spirit and general orientation of the examination system, if not the technical details, were well understood by pupils and parents across social classes. This unitary approach was in many ways pedagogically unsound when applied rigidly by school principals and teachers, and inflicted indiscriminately on all pupils, without regard for individual differences. On the other hand, it had one kind of salutary social effect. It reduced social cleavages by upholding a set of open and relatively objective criteria and giving children of different family backgrounds the opportunity to experience broadly similar school life, and to compete as equally and fairly as possible, in a reasonably transparent fashion, for post-compulsory education and employment. This was especially significant for an immigrant society where the majority of the population had few common social bonds and disparate values. Out of this common experience, Hongkongers built their social consensus. Similarly, Hong Kong schools came to be financed in such a way as to reduce differences between pupils from diverse backgrounds and living in divergent districts, to enable them to enjoy more equal educational opportunities and life chances. In the 1950s, the schools were categorized

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as “government”, “grant-in-aid”, “subsidized” and “private” schools, with distinctive and very unequal levels of funding (in descending order), and consequently greatly uneven staffing and other provisions. From the late 1960s to early 1980s, such differences among primary schools had been largely reduced. There was little significant difference any more between “government”, “grant” and “subsidized” schools in terms of financial investment per capita of pupils, and remaining “private” schools were too small in number to affect the system as a whole. Similar developments took place in secondary education during the late 1970s and early 1980s, with a unified Code of Aid for the distribution of public funding, and the steady reduction of the number and enrollment of “private” schools (most of which catered to poorer performers from lower socio-economic backgrounds) (Lu 2003: 152–154). This development took place alongside the construction of the new towns, with many dozens of purpose-designed schools built to uniform (and improved) standards replacing the dilapidated buildings in the congested poorer districts in old urban areas, many of which had been converted from tenement blocks. The rapid expansion of senior secondary education also called for thousands of university graduates to be trained as teachers. As a result of these developments, children from diverse backgrounds came to receive schooling not only with a unitary curriculum, but also in similarly provisioned and staffed school environments, funded at basically the same per capita rates. Despite pedagogical shortcomings, such a set-up certainly made schooling more equal for all, and contributed to social mobility. As a result of this and other factors, Hong Kong in the 1970s and 1980s had a high proportion of students from working class families attending local universities, polytechnics and colleges, probably larger than in any other Chinese-speaking or English-speaking society.

Social Background of University Students, 1950s–1980s The dramatic changes that took place between the 1950s and 1980s in the social composition of the student bodies of the universities in Hong Kong provide the best case of meritocracy and opening up of life chances through industrialization and education. According to a survey done at Hong Kong University in 1955–56, a skilled worker working 360 days in the year would have earned only onetenth to one-third the family income of an undergraduate (Maunder 1958). Obviously, there would not have been very many university students from

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working class backgrounds at Hong Kong University at that time. As a matter of fact, the same survey found that some three-quarters of the undergraduates came from what may safely be considered at least the upper middle class of Hong Kong society. There was very little financial assistance for students from lower income families. It should also be pointed out that in the mid-1950s, only 8% of the age group completed Form 5. The overwhelming majority of the young people in Hong Kong at the time could not even afford to finish secondary school, not to say attend university (Luk and Wu 1983: ch. 2). It is no wonder that the university had a reputation at the time of a “school for the aristocracy”. With the founding of The Chinese University of Hong Kong in 1963, the opportunities for higher education in Hong Kong doubled. At the same time, secondary education also expanded considerably since the 1950s, so that as many as 25% of the young people finished secondary school (Luk and Wu 1983: ch. 5). Nevertheless, university education was still not readily accessible for students from working class families. The Hong Kong government introduced the Student Grants and Loans scheme in 1969, and further liberalized it in 1971. The scheme provided financial assistance to Hong Kong students on the principle that no student should have to turn down an offer of a place at one of the local universities because he or she could not afford it. The effect was immediate and dramatic. Throughout the 1970s, about half of the university students received grants to help with tuition fees and more than 60% received interest-free loans to help with living expenses. The scheme was extended in 1977 to cover also students at the Hong Kong Polytechnic (Luk and Wu 1983: ch. 7). By the middle of the decade, the family background of the undergraduates had become almost a mirror image of the general population, cutting across all socio-economic strata, except perhaps for the very top slice (Lu 2003: 193– 195). Over one decade, from the introduction of the Grants and Loans scheme in 1969, the local tertiary institutions were transformed from schools for the upper and middle classes to ones for the children of the lower socioeconomic strata. This is not to say that opportunities for tertiary education had become equal. At that time, at least as many Hong Kong students were attending universities and colleges overseas as locally, and wealthier families were of course more able to send their children abroad (Luk and Wu, 1983: ch. 14). There were also still many families who could not support their children (especially their daughters) through secondary school. Nevertheless, thousands of sons and daughters of working class parents graduated from the local universities and joined the professional and managerial classes through their own merits, channelled through the education and examination system. Compared to their parents, they had much greater life chances for interesting and rewarding careers (B. H. K. Luk 1990).

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Education and Social Stability The preceding discussion has highlighted a few important dimensions of social change in Hong Kong during the 1950s to 80s, and how these changes related to the rapid development and eventual universalization of modern schooling. Schooling had much to do with why Hong Kong society remains remarkably stable through these decades despite all the economic upheavals, population mobility, and gross and persistent inequities. The simple reason: people had hope. People had hope for future improvement in the lives of their families. Through schooling and examinations, they could look forward to upward mobility for their children. And through peaceful civil protests (which became part of Hong Kong culture in the 1970s), they had hope that their grievances could be heard by the authorities and possibly remedied. Both the mobility and the social expression — key factors in Hong Kong’s long-term stability — were closely associated with the development of Hong Kong education during those decades. Whether or not schooling in Hong Kong will continue to play such a role is an open question (Zeng 2004). By the end of the 1980s, in the wake of the massive emigration leading up to 1997 (and especially in the aftermath of 4 June 1989), the Hong Kong government abandoned its longstanding policy of restricting university entrance as a means to maintain gradation of income by academic credentials. Local university intake more than doubled in the decade before 1997. This, together with the unexpectedly large return flow of emigrants, resulted in a bigger supply of graduates than the economy could easily absorb. Meanwhile, de-industrialization — an aspect of economic globalization — took place rapidly from the mid1980s, with the loss of some one million jobs in the manufacturing sector, and the increasing polarization of employment in the higher and lower ends of the tertiary sector. In this tumultuous context, Thatcherite ideas of education reform were introduced, both before, and more vehemently after, the changeover of sovereignty in 1997. These reforms are replacing the socio-political concerns of erstwhile education policies with what is sometimes called “fundamentalist” market considerations. Giving lower class parents and children hope for their future, thereby to promote social stability through mobility, does not seem to be the concern of these education reforms.

Economic Globalization and Its “Human Consequences” Economic globalization has undoubtedly wrought far-reaching changes in societies worldwide, and, following Bauman, we would designate these as

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its “human consequences” (Bauman 1998). We may mention three of the most salient ones. First of all, there is growing inequality between the have’s and have-not’s, both nationally and internationally (Bauman 1998, Gills 2000, Carnoy 2000, Falk 2000, Stromquist and Monkman 2000, Brown and Lauder 2001). In Hong Kong itself, such polarization is marked by the rise of the Gini-coefficient to a high of 0.52 in 2001, showing one of the greatest income discrepancies in the world (K. Chan 2001, Lo 2002). The second human consequence is the extension of market ideology and corporate managerialism to all spheres of social life, including education, social welfare and medical care, often to the detriment of the goals and objectives of these spheres (Stromquist and Monkman 2000, Hoppers 2000, Falk 2000). Thirdly, the interactive processes of deregulation, privatization and liberalization (Stromquist 2002) have resulted in constant mergers, downsizing and outsourcing, etc., amidst the global auction of jobs and resources, thus generating a keen sense of insecurity worldwide (Brown and Lauder 2001), including the education sector in Hong Kong.

How Economic Globalization Affects Hong Kong Education Globalization has affected education in Hong Kong in various ways, and this has taken place via numerous official, top-down reform measures, which have accelerated after the changeover of political sovereignty in 1997.

i. Privatization With the onslaught of globalization, there is a reduction of government commitment to education and other social services worldwide. In Hong Kong as in other countries, this reduced commitment comes in, not just in monetary terms, but more significantly in the form of increased privatization of education, increased (or maintenance of high) teacher-pupil ratios, and relatively cost-less “efficiency” reforms such as “decentralization of administration” (Carnoy 2000, Stromquist 2002). In the propaganda for education reforms in Hong Kong, this reduced government commitment is ingeniously euphemized as “society-wide mobilization” (Education Commission 2000: 141), which, in plain English, means that the government will transfer a significant portion of education expenses to the parents. Making the dubious observation that parents in Hong Kong had hitherto shouldered much less of the education spending than “many other parts of the world”, the reformers proposed that the proportion of tuition fees to total cost for post-secondary education should be “appropriately adjust[ed]” (Education Commission 2000: 146).

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A significant reduction of government expenses is made in a reversal of a prior policy of cutting down class size in order to improve the teacherstudent ratio. The teacher-pupil ratio in primary and secondary schools in Hong Kong has always been very high, as compared to English-speaking countries — the official limit was 40 students per class in both primary and secondary schools. The colonial government had earlier committed to reducing class size to 35 within five years (Education Commission 1992), banking on the decrease in student population due to lowered birth rates. This process started in 1993. In his first Policy Address in 1997, however, Chief Executive C. H. Tung reversed the policy, and schools were required to take back more pupils (Hong Kong Professional Teachers’ Union 2004). In the education reform paper in 2000, the reformers further observed that the teacher-student ratio in local schools was favourable, as compared to two other Asian countries, particularly South Korea, which was noted for its exceptionally big class sizes. Postulating that one “[could] not simply equate the teacher-to-student ratio with the quality of education”, this paper rejected outright the need to reduce class size in order to lighten teachers’ workload and “to enable them to raise the effectiveness of learning and teaching” (Education Commission 2000: 146). Government reluctance to commit funds to improving learning conditions was clear. Parents were also expected to shoulder more expenses than before, not only due to reduction of government funds, but also because of a more demanding curriculum and education outcome (more on this in the later section on standardization and surveillance). Parents “[could] provide support in the form of human and financial resources”, such as paying for “private tuition, dance and music classes, and for examination exercise books etc”. (Education Commission 2000: 145). Indeed, one of the leading reformers, Mr Tai Haylap, confirmed, in a press interview, that parents were expected to pay for make-up classes (for the academically weak), enrichment programmes and extra-curricular activities (“Tai Hay-Lap”, Ta Kung Bao 27 Mar 2000). The differential impact of such a policy on richer and poorer families is obvious. Yet another significant development in the privatization of education is the introduction of the Direct Subsidy Scheme (“DSS”) whereby schools are given government subsidy, calculated on a per capita basis, while they are allowed to be run as private schools. In practical terms, they are free to decide on their own curriculum, fees, and entrance requirements (Education and Manpower Bureau 2004c). This scheme was first proposed in 1988 (Education Commission 1988) as a plan to nurture a “strong independent private sector” in education through government subsidy; but at that time, the only beneficiaries (some say the intended beneficiaries) were the “proCommunist” schools which had not received any Hong Kong government funds hitherto. However, it was not until 2000, when the education reforms

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were launched in full force, that the scheme actually took off. Since then, a number of the most prestigious “subsidized” schools have joined the “DSS”, as a response to the much better terms offered to them. These “DSS” schools charge much higher fees, not only compared to the “subsidized” schools, but also compared to the small number of “private” schools that have catered to poorer performers from lower socio-economic status, some of which also joined the scheme in recent years (Education and Manpower Bureau 2004d). An indication of the socio-economic standing of some of these schools is the endowment that they could raise on becoming “DSS”: as much as HK$300 million in one instance. There are signs that more prestigious “subsidized” schools will follow suit, with the pull factor to join the “DSS” scheme being the freedom to exercise social selection, and the push factor being the increasing managerialism and surveillance in the “subsidized” sector of education, which we shall discuss below. The officially stated objective of this scheme, namely, “to develop a strong private school sector… so that parents have greater choice in finding suitable schools for their children” (Education and Manpower Bureau 2004c), seems to have been realized to a certain extent. The era of parentocracy, in which parents with the appropriate financial, social and cultural capital could exercise much greater control over their offspring’s education process and outcome, is clearly setting in here in Hong Kong, as in other English-speaking countries (Brown 1997b, Stromquist 2002, Brown and Lauder 2001). This is a radical reversal of the longstanding policy of providing equal funding so as to equalize educational opportunities for children from less advantaged families. Another major change in the education landscape is the withdrawal of government subsidy for vocational education and supplementary education such as “make-up” evening and sub-degree programmes. While Chief Executive C. H. Tung had pledged, in 2000, to provide post-secondary education for up to 60% of all students who completed senior secondary school, and encouraged all the publicly funded universities to introduce Associate Degree programmes for Form 7 school-leavers, within a few years all these education programmes were no longer supported by government subsidy. Since Form 7 school-leavers from middle class families who are not admitted to local universities would probably have gone overseas for higher education, the Associate Degree students are likely to have come from families of lower socio-economic status (SES), who are now asked to be pay fully for the “self-financed” programmes. Furthermore, starting from 2003, the government has contracted out the running of the evening foundational (i.e., pre-Matriculation) courses, and since then, the fees have risen more than five times. Moreover, former subsidized post-secondary

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and other vocational programmes are now being turned over to the private sector. Statistics show that the increase of such “self-financed” full-time programmes over the past few years have been very rapid, rising from 41 to 189 between 2001/2 and 2004/5 (Education and Manpower Bureau 2004e). In other words, with the expansion of post-secondary education coupled with the contraction of government support for such education, students from less advantaged families find that, in order to have any career prospects at all, they have little choice than to be enrolled in expensive self-financed programmes and incur debts of HK$100,000 or more — quite a reverse from earlier policies of promoting social mobility through education. To elaborate on this point: given the commonly observed phenomenon (in Hong Kong and elsewhere) that academic success is often correlated with parents’ SES, students who enroll in vocational, technical and other sub-degree programmes are more likely to come from a lower SES background, and for them, such programmes often amount to a “second chance” for upward social mobility. Therefore, it came as no surprise when a survey in 2004 found that most of the students (80%) of evening foundational education courses came from a low income group (monthly income below HK$7,000). The same survey found that 5,000 students had been forced to drop out since the government contracted out the evening courses to non-profit-making organizations in January 2004. Furthermore, 85% said they would not attend evening school by the time government subsidy was totally withdrawn (“Students Can’t Afford Night Class”, SCMP 21 June 2004). The denial of a “second chance” to students of low SES background means that social inequality will be further exacerbated. The reduction of government subsidy and the strengthening of the private sector that caters for the more privileged lead to greater social polarization. This development in education reflects a sea change in social philosophy. In the present hegemony of the market ideology, education has become a commodity — a private rather than social good — available only to those who can afford it (Brown and Lauder 2001, Stromquist and Monkman 2000). In the education-reform jargon here in Hong Kong, education is “to be regarded as an investment rather than expenditure” (Education Commission 2000: 141). This is “not only the whole society’s joint investment, but also an investment for the learners themselves”, because “the fruits of education benefit everyone in society, particularly the learners themselves” (Education Commission 2000: 142). While these statements would suggest the need for some balance between “investment” and “expenditure”, between “social benefit” and “individual benefit”, the actual policies clearly lean towards treating education as an “individual investment” and a “private good”, without concern for the broader implications for social structure and social stability.

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ii. Competition among Schools Promoted A unique feature of the administration and financing of education in Hong Kong over the post–World War II decades has been that most schools are “subsidized”, i.e., fully funded by the government but administered by non-government school sponsoring bodies such as churches, philanthropic groups and other community organizations. The government funding is supplied through a formula based on the number of classes in each school, and from the late 1970s to 1990s aimed at providing equal per capita funding for each pupil. The administration between the government, the school sponsoring bodies and the schools tended to be bureaucratic in nature, and lightly controlled in practice. Much of this changed rapidly during the past decade. Apart from direct surveillance via various “evaluation” exercises demanded by the government of the schools, the government also set up a mechanism whereby schools are invited to join in competitions for extra funds. For example, in 1997, the government allocated HK$5 billion to set up a Quality Education Fund (QEF), for which schools can bid for one-off projects on a competitive basis for “the improvement of education quality”. Schools quickly responded to this competition by putting pressure on teachers to bid for QEF projects, and successful ones have been eagerly advertised. Indeed, huge banners hanging on schools buildings, boldly announcing QEF projects successfully secured, have now become a common spectacle all over the territory. Criticisms about the inadequacy of the QEF to achieve the objectives of quality education abound. In particular, the danger that this kind of piecemeal and project-based approach might obscure fundamental issues has been highlighted (Tse 2002). One of these, as Tse pointed out, is the comparatively meagre overall spending on education, which the government has no inclination to remedy. Meanwhile, the competition between schools has become fiercer than ever, and the fight over QEF funds is only one small aspect of the struggle for survival which they have to face. Earlier, we have mentioned the reversal of the policy of cutting down class size in 1997. Schools are now required to take in 40 students per class, and, based on the shortfall, the number of “surplus teachers” are calculated and these are forced to go. The predicament of “surplus teachers” first hit primary and then secondary schools, and during these past few years, primary schools that cannot take in the required minimum of 24 Primary 1 pupils are forced to close down. The same threat of termination is expected to befall secondary schools in the second half of this decade, and school principals and teachers now live in this long shadow of fear of annihilation (saat hau, literally meaning killing off of schools). Meanwhile, the government further tightens the screw, so to speak, by providing generous incentives for the building of new “DSS” schools,

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“private” schools and senior secondary colleges (Hong Kong Professional Teachers’ Union 2003). Publicly funded “subsidized” schools now face an even harder struggle to maintain the level of student intake.

iii. Standardization and Surveillance — the Reform of the Curriculum Closely connected with the market ideology and its concomitant drive for productivity and efficiency is a growing interest in measuring educational outcome, both within societies and cross-nationally (Carnoy 2000). A somewhat paradoxical development is the coexistence of the rhetoric of decentralization in administration, as well as flexibility in curriculum design and student evaluation on the one hand, and the increased use of standardized measurement of school and student achievement on the other. In the education reforms in Hong Kong, therefore, we see the introduction of “basic competency assessments” (BCA), for both individual students (student assessment) and schools (system assessment), administered at three stages between Primary 1 and Secondary 3 (Education Commission 2000: Appendix III). In the official propaganda at the early stages of education reforms, there was considerable fanfare over the reformers’ determination to remove “obstacles in our system that obstruct learning” (Education Commission 2000: 36–37), foremost among these being the Academic Aptitude Test (AAT) used to scale Primary 6 pupils across the territory for the Secondary School Places Allocation. Amidst the reformers’ bold call for “removing the walls”, i.e., public examinations marking the transition of one stage of schooling to another, however, the BCA made its low-key, almost stealthy appearance. The first BCA tests were administered to Primary 3 students (age 8) in the first week of July in 2004. Within the context of the fierce struggle among schools for survival, it is not surprising to see schools treating this as a high-stakes test, regardless of official pleas to the contrary (Education and Manpower Bureau 2004b). At the same time, the longstanding system of public examinations and testing which was well understood by the community as an important ladder of success, was publicly discredited by the propaganda of the education reforms, to be replaced with new assessments of unknown quality and untried credibility. This would not enhance the faith and hope of parents for their children’s social mobility. Apart from standardized measurements, surveillance also takes place on a subtler level. This is done via the opening up of more areas of students’ lives and their social background to evaluation. A new mode of assessment was proposed in 2000 for secondary students, focusing on “students’ attitudes and abilities rather than the knowledge they memorize”, and taking the form of “different modes of broad-based assessments” which

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include “observation of students’ performance in classroom and participation in project work” (Education Commission 2000: 63). For senior secondary students, schools are asked to include within the students’ portfolios: records of participation in different types of learning activities, as well as comments on their participation in such activities, their personal qualities, and their “multiple abilities” (Education Commission 2000: 101). A proposal for comprehensive change in school curriculum also recommends “life-wide learning”, meaning “learning experiences that take place beyond the classroom” so that the boundaries between formal and informal curriculum “would become blurred, as some classroom learning has to be extended outside the classroom” (Curriculum Development Council 2000: 45–46). On top of all this, the importance of the “supportive home” is highlighted, whereby the “right participative and encouraging attitude from parents over their child’s learning” is to be solicited (Curriculum Development Council 2000: 55). While some of these objectives are probably worthwhile, the policy may have overlooked the differential impacts on different strata in society. Basil Bernstein has earlier referred to such curriculum changes (in the UK) as a shift from “the visible pedagogy” to the “invisible” one. These changes, according to him, are part and parcel of the production of the ideal person for the new middle classes, i.e., the non-property owning professional and managerial classes. This person is expected to display ambiguous role identities and flexible role performances, qualities that would differentiate him/her from the clearly defined “bureaucratic individual” favoured by the old middle classes. Accordingly, school curriculum and pedagogical relationships are to become less structured, and verbal communication and interaction take on great prominence as performance on these aspects supplants clear standards and task specifications of the past. While school work and evaluation appear to be less stringent and more flexible, this mode of socialization, in fact, “encourages more of the socialized to become visible”. Therefore, “such socialization is deeply penetrating, more total as the surveillance becomes more visible” (Bernstein 1997: 62). Writing almost two decades later, in the 1990s and in the context of drastic economic restructuring, Phillip Brown explains how this penetrating surveillance in education meets the demand of the market for managerial and professional work, where “the whole person… is on show and at stake”. (original emphasis) Corporations look for a “charismatic personality” rather then a “bureaucratic” one, and social control rests on implicit rather than explicit rules. As a result, the distinction between the role and the person is weakened in the work situation, “leading to an exposure of the ‘whole’ person in the assessment of adequate performance, which is reflected in the

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increasing use of student profiles, assessment centres and staff appraisal schemes” (Brown 1997a: 742–744). Curriculum changes such as those outlined above have arisen from the needs and ideology of the middle classes, and yet they are promulgated as applicable and beneficial for all. As Bernstein points out, such flexible curriculum and pedagogy are expensive, presupposing, as they do, a compatible middle class home ethos, as well as small classes and a particular kind of school infrastructure (Bernstein 1997). As these resources are unavailable to pupils from lower SES families, they are placed in an even more disadvantaged position than before, particularly as cultural compatibility between home and school becomes even more crucial for academic success. Moreover, as Brown points out, with the dramatic increase in uncertainties of employment in this age of globalization, and the consequent strife for the “value-added” curriculum vitae amidst inflation of qualifications (aptly captured in cruelly twisted humour by the slogan, “lifelong learning”, used in the education reforms in Hong Kong), social selection remains closely tied to “objective” performance in public examinations, as well as old school networks of elite prep schools and universities (Brown 1997a). The working class child’s and parent’s hope of success and mobility is further diminished.

Educational Measures for Social Polarization As we said above, the reforms are to be implemented universally, but the catch is that there is no official commitment to the creation of the necessary infrastructure and cultural support, nor the footing of the extra expenses incurred. This is clear from the reversal of the policy of cutting down class size in subsidized schools, as well as the withdrawal of funding for supplementary and vocational education. On the other hand, the government does not shy away from providing funds and other support to strengthen the private sector — the DSS schools and international schools, for pupils whose parents could afford such schooling. Polarization in education is therefore becoming more extreme. What does this mean for society as a whole? It means a growing gap, cultural and material, between the less advantaged classes and the elites on the pinnacles of power. It also means greater deprivation and a surer sense of defeat for the under-privileged, because their needs and difficulties are completely left out of the agenda. These neglected items include the problems of school discipline, irrelevance of the curriculum to their lifeworld, demoralized and over-worked teachers, all of which are expected to worsen, for two reasons. First, the energy of schools and teachers,

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particularly those attended by children of the under-privileged classes, is drained by rapid and massive changes of policy that only address the vision and needs of the select few. Secondly, the sense of relative deprivation deepens as the success of the privileged few, the “globals”, is “daily and obtrusively visible to the “locals”, now caught in their prison-like impenetrable solidity” (Bauman 1998:54). That does not augur well for “stability and prosperity” of society as a whole, nor for good order and discipline in the schools.

Languages in the Expanding Education and in Society Language, or rather, proficiency in the Chinese and English languages, has long been recognized as an important ingredient in Hong Kong’s commercial success, and the alleged decline in English standards in recent years has given rise to a great deal of anxiety, and to various government initiatives for education reform. But the “decline of English” is controversial; not everyone agrees that it has taken place. There is even less agreement on what language standards may be needed for Hong Kong, and what best to do to achieve them. Language standards are not a simple issue of improvement or deterioration, but part of a complex of demographic, social, cultural and educational developments. How best to structure the education system so as to provide for effective teaching of the languages to the largest possible number of pupils, and at the same time to bridge rather than to exacerbate the social gap, is a difficult topic for the policy agenda. To examine this topic, we need first to have a brief overview of Hong Kong’s socio-linguistic history since World War II. Both within and beyond formal education, important linguistic developments took place during the 1950s to 70s, which helped give Hong Kong society its unique character. In the early 1950s, as the government embarked on the massive school building programme to provide primary education for a larger and larger proportion of children, the decision was taken to make Cantonese the medium of instruction in primary schools (Lu 2003: 139). This policy, together with the widespread enjoyment of the newly invented transistor radio and locally produced Cantonese cinema, reinforced the position of Cantonese as the natural lingua franca of Hong Kong (Lu 2003: 147–148). In the 1950s, the majority of Hong Kong’s population were immigrants from different provinces in China. The potential for social cleavage along ethno-linguistic lines was ever present. But by the late 1960s, such cleavages were no longer significant. The immigrants’

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children had grown up speaking their own languages at home and Cantonese in school and on the streets. The common language emerged hand in hand with a common culture. By the early 1970s, in response to the Chinese Language Movement spearheaded by university students, the government acknowledged the use of spoken Cantonese, and written baihua for official purposes, and the common tongue gained the status of a “high language” (Lu 2002). Without a common language which enjoyed such status, the peaceful and orderly give and take between government and people, and between different segments of society, would be much harder to imagine. Since the 1970s, research in first language teaching in English-speaking and other societies around the world has demonstrated clearly that the most effective medium of instruction, especially for literacy in primary school, is the language of community life in one’s own society, rather than any “received pronunciation” or “standard language”. Hong Kong’s official choice in the 1950s turned out to be the correct one by the expectations of the best international scholarship on language education. By 1971, the census showed for the first time a local-born majority in Hong Kong’s population, and a local culture and local identity was bursting forth. This was reinforced by both the expanding school system and the newly universalized television broadcasting. Hong Kong had become indisputably a Cantonese-speaking society where all the young people had the common experience of schooling and culture in a common tongue. As well, every child who grew up in Hong Kong since the 1960s was introduced to the English language from the first year, or at the latest, from the third year in primary school. But at the same time, Hong Kong was a colonial port where, before 1974, English was the only official language; spoken Cantonese and written Chinese had the status and function of a “low language”. The “Chinese Language Movement” spearheaded by activists among university students in the early 1970s, which led to the government’s adoption of CantoneseChinese for most official purposes, coincided with corresponding changes in the media, in religion, and in many other aspects of social life, and gave Cantonese-Chinese the new status of a “high language”, i.e., a language which is used for all purposes, including official, solemn and prestigious occasions. Meanwhile, English maintained its position as a “super-high” or “supreme language”, i.e., the highest among the coexisting “high languages” in a society. English remained the “supreme language” not only because it was the language of the colonial authorities, but also because of its role in commerce. Hong Kong’s economy has always been internationally oriented, and in the 1970s, industrialization was well established, and the tertiary service sector

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was rapidly gaining in prominence. So, political and economic factors converged to encourage the learning of English in Hong Kong schools. Census figures clearly show the rising attainment in English. In 1961, the first post–World War II census recorded 9.7% of the population of about three million claiming to know English; the latest census in 2001 recorded 43.0% of the more than doubled population making the same claim — an increase of more than nine fold in 40 years. In demographic terms, if one cannot be certain about any other criterion, Hong Kong has never enjoyed as high attainments in English as we do today. This was certainly one of the major achievements of the school system.

Diglossia and Bilingualism “Bilingualism” in Chinese and English has long been claimed as a major objective of Hong Kong education, but the popular use of the term hides a good deal of unclear thinking. Before proceeding further with this discussion, we need once again to pause in order to clarify some basic concepts, viz. “diglossia” and “bilingualism”. While both of these terms refer to the coexistence of different languages in a society, “diglossia” describes the functional differentiation of language varieties in a society, while “bilingualism” describes the ability of a person to use more than one language variety. Applying these concepts, Luke and Richards (1982) characterized Hong Kong in the 1970s as a society of diglossia without bilingualism. At that time, Hong Kong society consisted of two main parallel speech communities, one Cantonese-speaking (the majority) and one English-speaking (the minority) with very little social interaction between members of the two communities. A small bilingual class of linguistic middlemen had arisen to bridge between these two communities. Most of them were university graduates, government officials, teachers and so on, who were well educated and fluent in both languages. However, due to the expansion of secondary education in the late 1970s and the 1980s, and the expansion of higher education in the 1990s, the bilingual class of linguistic middlemen has expanded and in a recent article by Luke (2003), Hong Kong society in the post-1997 era is described as decreasing diglossia with increasing bilingualism. Luke (2003) argues that after 1997 many important political speeches are made in both Cantonese and English (or more in Cantonese than in English, e.g., in the Legislative Council) and there is the rise of Cantonese as a main working language in more and more high domains which used to be the exclusive territory of English. Meanwhile, there has arisen a triglossic situation in the

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post-1997 era, when Putonghua has risen in importance in two radically different domains: the “super-high” domain where its use is symbolic of national sovereignty, and the low domain of tourism and services where its use is functional and practical in dealing with tourists from Mainland. Applying the same concepts, Bolton (2002: 34) argues that Hong Kong has moved from “elitist bilingualism” to “mass bilingualism”, citing the census statistics that indicate a rise in the proportion of the population claiming a knowledge of English over the decades, as illustrated in the table below: Table 1 Proportion of population claiming a knowledge of English, 1931–2001 1931

1961

1966

1971

1991

1996

2001

6.3%

9.7%

20.0%

25.5%

31.6%

38.1%

43.0%

While self-reports cannot be taken as accurate measures of the population’s English proficiency, they do reflect a rising trend of confidence in one’s knowledge in English among Hong Kong people. Indeed, a good deal of the social mobility experienced by people in Hong Kong over the post–World War II decades was attained in part with learning English in school. The importance of the learning and teaching of Hong Kong’s languages is recognized by the government in the slogan for “biliterate trilingualism” in Cantonese, English and Putonghua.

Learning English and Learning through English: Policy Options The policy question for education may be stated as follows: Given the Chinese-English diglossic situation in Hong Kong and the desire for bilingualism, how should the teaching of languages in our schools be organized, with what mix of languages at each stage of schooling? Some of the options may be: (A) Let every child begin education in the major community language, i.e., Cantonese, which is also the mother tongue of most families. Introduce English soon after, and as early as possible replace Cantonese-Chinese as the medium of instruction with English. This may be called the “early immersion” model, since the children will be immersed in English from an early age. While many children may not adjust and fail in school because of the shift in language, the rest will quickly become fluent in English, which will in fact become their first functional language and their main linguistic repertoire. Cantonese-Chinese, on the other hand, will only develop with limited depth and breadth with these children, and will function at best as a “low language” for the rest of their lives. Those who

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have failed in making the initial adjustment may have no future in schooling or in any career which requires certain levels of educational attainment. (B) Let every child begin education in Cantonese. Introduce English soon after, and at a later stage, say in the transition from primary to secondary school or even later, replace Cantonese-Chinese as the medium of instruction with English. This may be called the “late immersion” model, since the children will be allowed time to develop their competencies speaking, reading and writing in Cantonese-Chinese first, before they are immersed in English at a later stage in their education. In this model, the children will be given the chance to develop their competencies in both languages more equally, and become more proficiently bilingual if they make the transition successfully. As may be expected, after the transition has been made successfully, with most pupils English proficiency will be gained at the expense of the depth and breadth of the Chinese communicative repertoire, although the imbalance will not be as serious as with the “early immersion” model. Those who fail to make the transition will be stunted in their educational progression, but the impediment will not be as great as with those who fail to make the adjustment in “early immersion”. Within this “late immersion” model, there are further options: (B1) The transition could be made suddenly, say between Primary 6 and Secondary 1. The change will be neat and clearly marked, but would be traumatic for many, if not most, pupils, and slow down their academic and affective development in the first few years after the shift. Many pupils may not recover from the shock, and sink rather than swim. Many others will survive after a few difficult years; whether or not their progress will catch up for the retardation of the post-transition period remains an open question. Or, (B2) The transition could be made more gradually, by using both languages as media of instruction for different subjects over a few years (say, during Primary 5–6 or during Form 1–3) before a more complete switch of medium of instruction is made. This would provide for a gentler and less traumatic change, at the cost of more complex timetabling and staff deployment in schools. (B3) The switch of medium of instruction, made at whatever stage, is for certain subjects only, not for all; i.e., a “partial immersion” in English, not a complete one. The gain in the breadth or depth of English communicative repertoire could be somewhat less than with “total immersion”; but this may be compensated with less loss in Chinese proficiency. (C) The switch of medium of instruction is not universal (or not available to every child) but made selectively by the education authorities; i.e.,

Education Reforms and Social Mobility 317

streaming of pupils by medium of instruction at a certain stage. The advantage would be more focused use of resources on those selected pupils who could be expected to gain most from the switch. The disadvantage, given the diglossic situation where one language enjoys tremendous economic and social advantages over another, would be that the selected children will be seen as privileged, resulting in social tensions and erosion of social cohesion. Within education, the competitive pressures for selection into English immersion will generate tensions which could be detrimental to most other educational activities. (D) To educate all pupils in the first language (Cantonese-Chinese) throughout their schooling, without immersion in English, and at the same time invest a great deal of resources into teaching English as a second/ foreign language. The pupils will be given the opportunity to develop their communicative repertoire in the first language fully; they may be able to become bilingual also with this model, developing much depth in English, but probably not as much breadth as with an immersion model, since they would not have studied various subjects in the medium of English. It should be noted that as many Hong Kong families enjoy the resources to support their children in learning English, while even more families cannot afford such resources, the choice among the above options ought to be based on considerations of social cohesion and social mobility, no less than on cultural and pedagogical ones. An option that favours those that already enjoy such resources would exacerbate the social gap, and increase the disadvantage suffered by pupils from families of lower SES.

From Policy of Drift to Policy of Streaming From the 1950s to 1990s, despite increasingly problematic linguistic conditions in our schools, no fundamental analysis of the options, from either pedagogical or social perspectives, was made consciously by the government or the community. The official policy was characterized as laissez faire or allowing parents and schools to make their own choices and combinations while the education authorities drifted along. The result was a situation that closely approximated model B1, the sudden transition to complete immersion for almost all pupils. Other options were never seriously considered, nor were the benefits and disadvantages of the B1 model consciously weighed. In 1952, there were some 12,000 boys and 4,500 girls in Anglo-Chinese (i.e., English medium) secondary schools, compared to 10,000 boys and 7,500 girls in Chinese middle schools which taught all their subjects in Chinese and offered English as one of the subjects. As the job market in the

318 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

export-oriented economy clearly favoured the products of the Anglo-Chinese stream, it gained the support of more parents. By the late 1980s, when completion of secondary education (Form 5) was becoming almost universal among 17-year-olds, 90% of the pupils were in supposedly English-medium secondary schools, while only 10% were in Chinese-medium secondary schools. While the government allowed market forces to take their course, those forces, during this period when dozens of new secondary schools were being built for the new towns in the New Territories, dictated that they be Anglo-Chinese schools. The difficulty of teaching a common (elitist) academic curriculum to pupils in mass secondary education was compounded by the issue of language medium of instruction. Now, this mass academic secondary education in a second language was constructed on top of a standard primary curriculum taught in Chinese, in other words, it was a “late immersion” model (B1) starting suddenly on the pupil’s first day in secondary school. The primary curriculum by itself did not provide enough English for pupils at the end of Primary 6 to start learning secondary-level material in English right after the summer. Nor could it possibly do so in a system of universal secondary schooling where more than 90% of the children came from a Cantonese-speaking environment at home and in the city. For most pupils there was no transition period at all. (In the pre–World War II and early post-war decades, there was a transition period in Primary 5–6, during which most subjects were duplicated for the two languages.) Even if there had been a transition period, it would have been difficult for most pupils to adjust without extra help. Furthermore, few of the teachers in secondary school spoke English in their lives outside the classroom, and had good enough command of the language to teach with ease and interestingly. In other words, the “immersion” was in English language usage that was less than perfect for most pupils. The narrowly academic curriculum, which would have been unsuitable for most pupils anyway, was made all the more difficult because of the language problems. In the end, most teachers taught either in what linguists call a “mixed code” with elements from both languages, or in spoken Cantonese with written English (in textbooks and teaching aids), or drilled their pupils to memorize for tests in English. In any case, most pupils failed to benefit from an education which was supposed to make them bilingual and attain high academic standards. They ended functioning in “mixed code”, because they did not have enough mastery in either language to function fully in it. “Mixed code” was indeed the natural product of unsuitable English-medium schooling in a Cantonese-speaking society. The practice of teaching in mixed code has been sternly criticized by purists on both sides of the linguistic divide, who insist on the use of “pure Chinese” or “pure English” in daily life and especially in education. “Pure

Education Reforms and Social Mobility 319

Chinese” is often assumed to have been used by people, at least educated people in some bygone golden age; and “pure English” is usually believed to be some “native speaker’s standard”, preferably following middle class formal usage from the UK. Both sets of “standards” are assumed rather than examined; the most vocal opinions are likely to come from vigilante critics, not systematic exponents. On the other hand, there have been a number of sociolinguistic studies of the phenomena of code mixing and code switching, which provide us with deeper understanding and glimpses of their potential utility. Following from these studies, we will examine later in this chapter an alternative to condemning code mixing and code switching, and explore the potential of these natural and common phenomena to serve as a bridge for enabling pupils to broaden their communicative repertoire in English. In the 1990s, the B1 model was consciously dropped in favour of model C, the sudden and complete immersion for a selected minority of pupils, while the majority continued with their schooling under model D. Although there was some consultation and debate, there was again very little examination of basic issues and analysis of options. Under this policy, only 114 out of over 400 publicly funded secondary schools are allowed to call themselves “English medium of instruction” or EMI. A great deal of tensions and divisiveness has emerged in both education and society over the issue, not least because such a streaming policy is socially divisive. Children from upper and upper middle class families may have taken to “early immersion” (model A) in an “international school” or some “DSS” school; those from middle class and some working class families find themselves streamed into the B1 model of sudden transition to English immersion from Secondary 1, and consider themselves lucky for the improved prospects of higher education; and well over two-thirds of all the pupils, most of them from lower SES backgrounds, will be streamed into model D with such prospects greatly reduced. There is no wonder that such a streaming policy has been criticized as the worst of all options. On the level of classroom practice, important research studies released in the past few years include four qualitative studies on medium of instruction (MoI) policy analysis and policy implementation (Poon 2000a, 2000b; So 2000; Wong 2001, Lee 2002) and one quantitative study on the effects of MoI on students’ language and content subject attainment (Marsh et al 2000). In summary, these studies seem to have reconfirmed what we seem to know in one way or another about the situation in Hong Kong: (a) the dualistic, either-Chinese-or-English policy of streaming by school is inflexible and has a serious, socially stigmatizing effect on schools and students that are labelled as “Chinese medium of instruction” or CMI; (b) the majority of

320 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

students in Hong Kong at the end of their primary school career have not yet possessed the threshold English proficiency to avoid the negative effects of late, total English immersion at Form 1 (first year of secondary school); (c) most school personnel, parents and students seem to favour a gradual transition to late immersion, and a partial immersion approach (e.g., some relatively less language-dependent subjects to be taught in English first, provision of bilingual tutors and bridging courses during the transition period). Early immersion seems feasible theoretically, but many conditions have to be in place for its success (e.g., well-qualified teachers, home and community support of students’ first language (L1) and second language (L2) literacies, carefully planned curriculum).

Problems, Difficulties, and Future Directions In view of the above summary of findings, it is disturbing to see the recent findings of Lee (2002), who conducted an ethnographic study in a CMI secondary school, which started to put some formerly CMI classes in a total English immersion mode starting in Form 4 (grade 10) in September 2001. Through interviews with the students, their content teachers and through observations of their lessons, Lee concluded that many of the students were struggling with total English immersion due to their limited English proficiency. In Lee’s words (2002: 67–68): It is a cruel fact that the students do not have a good foundation of English. From the interviews with the subject teachers, it is found that teachers’ expectations are not well matched with students’ expectations (and abilities). Teachers expect that those who are in [Form] 4 class should be highly motivated. They should learn with self-initiations. However, with limited abilities (both English and academic), the students just cannot meet the requirements set by their teachers. Such a mismatch only leads to more frustration — both teachers and students are frustrated. The new school policy can have a “Labelling Effect” of its own. All the school members expect that the students in [Form] 4D are “the elites of the elites” — it is a tradition in my school that those who have better academic results choose the Science Stream classes. In order to reach that expectation, students are working under a great pressure — from teachers, other students and their families. The whole process is a painful experience. As expressed by the students themselves, they become quieter during the lessons due to two main reasons. First, they pay more attention in class as the subject content is delivered in English. They will miss some important points if they do not concentrate. Second, students do not

Education Reforms and Social Mobility 321

have the courage to say anything or respond in English. They are afraid of making mistakes and being teased by others. The problems then emerge. More involvement and attentiveness in class does not necessarily mean more participation. From the interviews, the students themselves can point out this problem. I have to admit that we are already teaching a group of kids who lack self-confidence and self-assurance. With the new school policy, cumulative failures (in tests and examinations), and pressure (sometimes blame) from the people around them, their remaining self-esteem seems to be almost destroyed (or should I say completely destroyed?). Teachers find it difficult to help students pick up their self-confidence again.

These findings of Lee (2002) are disturbing. It seems that similar situations may be currently developing in many other CMI schools which are embarking on immersing some of their classes in English starting from From 4 (grade 10), even when their students do not seem to be ready (e.g., not having adequate English proficiency to learn completely in English yet). Bilingual help, bridging courses and a longer transition period seem to be necessary if these students are not to suffer negative effects on their learning and self-esteem from inappropriate immersion due to the unrealistic expectations and policies of the school management. The teachers’ expressed negative view towards the bilingual medium (or code mixing) seems to be in contradiction to their actual classroom practices. It seems that teachers might experience some conflict between what they believe to be (officially) correct to do and what they find necessary to do in situ. This seems to be a common predicament experienced by many teachers in Hong Kong since the expansion of formerly elitist secondary education in the late 1970s. The unfavourable attitude towards bilingual classroom practices expressed by parents and teachers might have been a result of the official, academic and media discourses which claim that bilingual classroom practices have negative educational results (see critical analysis by Lin (1997)). The mismatch between what is officially correct to do and what teachers actually find it necessary to do in the classroom is not restricted to the secondary sector but has been increasingly witnessed and documented in the tertiary sector since the expansion of formerly elitist university education in the late 1980s in Hong Kong (e.g., Walters and Balla 1992; Flowerdew, Li and Miller 1996). The major dilemmas and difficulties facing us can be summarized as follows: 1. The majority of people in Hong Kong have limited access to English resources as they live in a largely Cantonese-dominant world where “pure English” (i.e., not in the practice of code mixing/switching) does

322 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

2.

3.

4.

not play an important communicative role, and where socio-cultural norms mediate against the extended use of English (except in the practice of Cantonese-English code mixing/switching) among Chinese sharing a common first language. After the universalization of formerly elitist secondary education in the late 1970s, and the expansion of formerly elitist university education in the late 1980s, the majority of students, and teachers to a lesser extent, do not have enough English resources to learn and teach entirely in English. Many English immersion secondary schools and universities have, to varying extents, shifted to a Cantonese-English bilingual oral medium while maintaining an English written medium and striving to maintain the socio-economically prestigious label of “English medium schools/universities”. In spite of the 1998 government linguistic streaming policy to force the majority of secondary schools to switch to Chinese medium, and reserving 114 EMI schools, it is popularly believed that even within these 114 EMI schools, bilingual classroom mediums (i.e., “code mixing” or “code switching”) are practised for practical pedagogical functions. The 1998 linguistic streaming policy and the policy of banning bilingual classroom practices (what has been negatively denigrated as “mixed code” teaching) in Hong Kong has made teachers generally unwilling to bring their actual classroom practices into the open and few research efforts are/can be made to examine these practices to explore their educational potential and to improve and develop them to be an alternative, legitimate, effective approach that supports the academic literacy development of students in both Chinese and English. The lack of official support for alternative bilingual approaches, e.g., partial immersion (with some subjects taught in English and some in Chinese), bilingual medium (e.g., using bilingual texts), has made it difficult to research the viability of alternative approaches which may be more suited to the needs of the majority of Hong Kong students, who cannot be expected to jump the gap between their Cantonese home world and their English immersion school world without suffering educationally. Total English immersion has not been viable and has never actually been implemented in the majority of nominally English medium schools due to the factors mentioned in (1) and (2) above. However, the local, pragmatic, expedient bilingual classroom practices in these schools do not seem to support the development of Chinese academic literacy, and students continue to resort to rote memorization and copying to cope with the English written work and examinations in these schools.

Education Reforms and Social Mobility 323

It can be seen that Hongkongers have been placed in dilemmas that have arisen from the socio-economic dominance of English over a largely monolingual, Cantonese-speaking population. If Chinese-English bilingual literacy development among the majority of students is a genuine, worthwhile goal for the people of Hong Kong, the Hong Kong government needs to assign more resources to teachers’ bilingual and bi-literacy development. We also need to develop viable bi/tri/multi-lingual education and pedagogical approaches that will enable the majority of students to bridge the multiple linguistic gaps between their home world and their school world: the gaps between their mother tongue (Cantonese) and Chinese literacy, between Cantonese and spoken English, between Cantonese and Putonghua, and between Chinese literacy and English literacy. Such additional resources will be all the more necessary for schools catering to children from less advantaged socio-economic backgrounds, to narrow the social gap and provide some hope for social mobility. Daunting as the task appears to be, the bi/tri/multilingual experiences of other postcolonial societies testify to the great educational potential of various multilingual approaches (Canagarajah 1995, forthcoming; Hornberger 2003). Future research work in Hong Kong needs to take seriously these alternative approaches (i.e., bilingual pedagogies; e.g., Lin 2000; Lin forthcoming) and explore their potential (i.e., using L1 as a bridging resource to teaching L2) for the majority of Hong Kong students, and not only for the elitist few who can benefit from total English immersion.

Summing Up: Rethinking Hong Kong’s Education History Hong Kong transformed itself from a pre-industrial trading port to a postindustrial knowledge society within the past half century. Schooling played a central role not only in the upgrading of knowledge, but also in instilling the industrial discipline and dynamic social order of a modern society.

Why Was Hong Kong’s Education Successful? In most ways, with the possible exception of inculcating mass bilingualism at optimal levels, Hong Kong education has been successful. This was because for two generations after World War II, Hong Kong schools were able to combine clearly defined academic expectations and strict discipline,

324 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

with an offer of hope through a competitive examination system. It was this hope which sustained hundreds of thousands of boys and girls from underprivileged homes to work hard, to imbibe the knowledge and the discipline, in order to bring brighter futures for themselves and their families. These young people constituted the meritocracy and the upward social mobility which characterized Hong Kong society in the 1970s and 1980s. Their personal successes and the development of the school system were part and parcel of the rapidly growing industrial economy. The expanding economy both demanded, and made affordable, wider and wider opportunities for education. In the early 1960s, less than a quarter of the 17year-olds finished secondary school; by the early 1990s, more than 80% did. The schools provided the workforce for the economy, and a ladder of success for the young people. It was a beneficent cycle. The government helped by supplying the framework and the resources; and through the decades, government funding became equalized across schools catering for children from different socio-economic backgrounds. And in a small territory with a largely homogeneous population, Hong Kong also enjoyed a healthy diversity of educational practices in the “subsidized schools”, a pattern whereby a large majority of schools were fully funded by the government on an equal per capita basis, subject to public allocation of pupils, but operated privately by school sponsoring bodies.

Why Are the Strengths and Achievements of the System Not So Widely Recognized? First, rapid expansion has inevitable concomitants. When 25% of 17-yearolds left school at Form 5, employers formed certain expectations which would be hard to meet when 85% of the same age group leave school at the same grade. With any expanding system, parents, youngsters, teachers and the community at large need to re-examine their expectation. But this was never done in Hong Kong: very often people still bring to a universal secondary education the assumptions of an elitist system, and find failings. English language attainments may be considered in this context. When only the top 25% of our young people finished secondary education, and less than 10% of them had any chance to enjoy tertiary education, the ones who entered the job market armed with a school certificate (and maybe an additional year of commercial training) were the cream, both in English language attainment and in other aspects. But when 85% complete secondary education, and 40% have the opportunity for tertiary education (both locally and abroad), then those who enter the job market after Form 5 are much

Education Reforms and Social Mobility 325

more likely to be among the lower half of the cohort. By most accounts, the number of proficient English language users in Hong Kong is at an all time high in the early twenty-first century; but they certainly do not come as cheaply as before, to take up clerical posts in business. And they may also be demanded in ever larger numbers. Hence the illusion that such graduates are no longer being produced by our schools. Another reason for the lack of current recognition for the success of Hong Kong’s education is that the needs of the economy and society have changed. Hong Kong is no longer the expanding industrial economy it was a generation ago, and the job market has become increasingly polarized. While the erstwhile virtues have not become vices, the values which are emphasized tend to be different; “creativity” is now valued more than “diligence”, for example. Some critics simply take for granted the existing strengths of our schools, and harp upon the new things which they believe are needed but cannot find. (Where “creativity” is concerned, one may also ask how pupils and teachers can be expected to be creative when their top priority for their efforts is to be the acquisition of a second language.) Thirdly, the critics are different. Hong Kong education has never lacked critics; but in earlier decades most of the critics were educators themselves, who knew the system inside out, and wanted it to work better for the benefit of the pupils. In recent years, many of the most vocal detractors speak from outside the system, and voice concerns that often reflect the demands of the market. While the needs of the market certainly should be recognized, what many educators find most hurtful and frustrating is the easy assumption made by a number of “outsiders” that many things are wrong and few things are right about our schools, that most teachers and pupils are dumb plodders who just memorized from substandard texts, and that Hong Kong could have a future only if the entire school system is dismembered and most serving teachers are replaced. What many teachers perceive may not be a fair characterization of what the critics want, but it is indeed how a large proportion of the teachers feel they are being treated and portrayed. And the all-too-frequent negative publicity about education is hurting the teaching profession. Some good teachers in their early 40s have taken retirement; many bright young people hesitate to join the profession or to enter training. This is not an optimistic picture for the future of Hong Kong education. A rethinking of the history of education of Hong Kong by policy makers and reformers, paying full attention to the structure of social classes within which the school system is embedded, as well as to the cultural and pedagogical demands, is an urgent social need.

11

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? Wenbin Sun and Siu-lun Wong

Entrepreneurial spirit is essential to the dynamism of a commercial society like Hong Kong, and Hong Kong seems to have never been short of it. However, this spirit seems to have declined in Hong Kong since the 1980s. The Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM), which provides an annual assessment of entrepreneurial activity, reports that Hong Kong’s total entrepreneurial activity index scores extremely low. Among thirty-one economies studied, only Croatia, Italy, Finland, Japan, and France’s indices scored less than Hong Kong in 2003.1 What does this assessment really mean? Does it indicate a want of entrepreneurial skills or weakened entrepreneurial motivation in Hong Kong? Or does it mean that Hong Kong’s entrepreneurial spirit may still be there, but entrepreneurial attempts have faltered? This chapter aims to first present various survey data and research findings to assess the extent to which the statement reflects reality; and second to provide a preliminary analysis of the observed decline. Before fulfilling these two aims, it is necessary to define the central term of this text — “entrepreneur”. As in the case of many widely applied concepts, there is no universally accepted definition of what constitutes an entrepreneur. In this paper, we adopt a broader approach to the term by defining entrepreneur as someone who takes risk and takes forward a new idea by starting up and managing a business for the purpose of profit and growth.

328 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

What do data say about Hong Kong’s entrepreneurship? Although much discussion has been devoted to entrepreneurship, there was no standard way of measuring it in previous studies. Since entrepreneurial activity involves assuming personal willingness, endurance and ability, we propose a measurement in two aspects, i.e. an objective measurement which indicates entrepreneurial skills and performance, and a subjective measurement which examines entrepreneurial motivation. It needs to be stressed here that these operational measures are our attempt to examine entrepreneurship in a clearer manner. We by no means imply that the objective and subjective aspects of entrepreneurial striving can be clearly separated. The most applied objective way of measuring entrepreneurship is the birth rate of new business. For any economy, to achieve an economic growth, an adequate birth rate of business is required. As Reynolds (1994) points out: “High firm birth rates are … indicators of a vigorous economic system where there is innovation, adaptation, development of new industries, and opportunities for individuals to pursue entrepreneurship as a personal career option… Given the evidence that is accumulating, it would take a great deal of courage for any government to ignore the need for a healthy level of entrepreneurship.” Based on this assumption, we now examine the birth rate of business and entrepreneurial activity in Hong Kong since the 1980s. Table 1 shows the statistics we collected from the Hong Kong Companies Registry, annual data of the number of new local incorporated companies, the number of dissolution, and the total number of local companies on the Registry. From the statistics, we draw the following three preliminary observations. First, the general trend of entrepreneurial activity demonstrates a gradual decline trend since the 1980s. The average percentage of newly incorporated companies over the existing stock falls from 15.28% in the 1970s to 13.09% in the 1980s, 10.60% in the 1990s, and 8.82% in the first four years of the 2000s. Meanwhile, the number of dissolved cases gradually increases, more dramatically since the mid-1990s (see Figure 1). If we use the percentage of net birth as an indicator to observe the trend, the decline then becomes even more obvious (see Table 2). Second, the start-up rate demonstrates well the correlation between business formation and its social and political environment. For instance, before the Sino-British Joint Declaration, the birth rate fell from 1982’s 11.99% to 1983’s 9.74%. Similarly, after the “Tiananmen Incident” on June 4, 1989, the birth rate fell, from 13.05% in 1989 to 9.85% in 1990. Third, if the start-up percentage is examined

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? 329 Table 1 Companies Registry — Table of Statistics Year

No. of Local Companies Incorporated

No. of No. of Local % of Local Dissolutions Companies on Companies Register Incorporated

% of Dissolutions

1970

3,419

358

18,229

18.76%

1.96%

1971

3,847

455

21,622

17.79%

2.10%

1972

4,810

365

26,068

18.45%

1.40%

1973

5,518

294

31,292

17.63%

0.94%

1974

4,568

444

35,416

12.90%

1.25%

1975

4,170

602

38,985

10.70%

1.54%

1976

5,474

582

43,877

12.48%

1.33%

1977

6,788

769

49,896

13.60%

1.54%

1978

8,846

797

57,945

15.27%

1.38%

1979

10,284

800

67,429

15.25%

1.19%

1980

14,596

820

81,206

17.97%

1.01%

1981

15,877

829

96,261

16.49%

0.86%

1982

12,983

943

108,312

11.99%

0.87%

1983

11,558

1,181

118,680

9.74%

1.00%

1984

13,434

1,394

130,722

10.28%

1.07%

1985

18,465

1,551

147,636

12.51%

1.05%

1986

16,743

2,393

161,986

10.34%

1.48%

1987

26,380

2,778

185,588

14.21%

1.50%

1988

30,474

2,548

213,515

14.27%

1.19%

1989

31,674

2,483

242,709

13.05%

1.02%

1990

26,147

3,408

265,452

9.85%

1.28%

1991

43,975

4,891

304,538

14.44%

1.61%

1992

58,110

4,521

358,129

16.23%

1.26%

1993

61,831

4,052

415,911

14.87%

0.97%

1994

42,723

5,848

452,789

9.44%

1.29%

1995

33,008

13,919

471,883

6.99%

2.95%

1996

49,734

38,446

483,181

10.29%

7.96%

1997

49,275

57,973

474,517

10.38%

12.22%

1998

29,947

29,983

474,594

6.31%

6.32%

1999

35,560

19,367

490,888

7.24%

3.95%

2000

43,359

22,826

511,503

8.48%

4.46%

2001

38,258

39,495

510,380

7.50%

7.74%

2002

46,554

53,918

503,111

9.25%

10.72%

2003

50,049

55,861

497,406

10.06%

11.23%

2004 (as of June)

31,943

22,832

506,563

6.31%

4.51%

330 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions Table 2 Average annual percentages over the period 1970s

1980s

1990s

1. Aver. % of local companies incorporated

15.28

13.09

10.60

2000s 8.82

2. Aver. % of no. dissolution

1.46

1.10

3.98

8.54

Net birth ( = 1 - 2 )

13.82

11.99

6.62

0.28

Figure 1 % of newly incorporated and % of dissolution over the existing stock 20.00% 18.00% 16.00%

Percentage

14.00% 12.00% 10.00% 8.00% 6.00% 4.00% 2.00% 0.00% 1970 1972

1974 1976 1978 1980

1982 1984 1986

1988 1990 1992

1994 1996 1998

as at June

% of Local Companies Incorporated % of Dissolution

2000 2002 2004

Year

Figure 2 % of newly incorporated and % of GDP one year ago 20.00%

Percentage

15.00%

10.00%

5.00%

0.00%

–5.00% 1970 1972

1974 1976 1978 1980 1982 1984 1986

1988 1990 1992 1994 1996 1998 2000 2002 2004

as at June

% of Local Companies Incorporated % of GDP

Year

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? 331

against the annual change of GDP, we see a strong correlation between the two curves, except for the part after 1997 (see Figure 2). This confirms the potential of using birth rate of business as a tool to analyze economic development. However, this set of data suffers some flaws. The major problem is new company formations do not necessarily mean new business. For tax or other policy-related reasons, a new company may be registered but remain inactive. Also, a new registered company may not be new at all. It could be a branch of a company being registered as a financially independent entity, but its business is the same. There is no breakdown of the types of companies being incorporated, so we are not able to provide any estimation as to how many companies are inactive. In the data set, those overseas companies registered in Hong Kong are not included. This may not have much effect on our argument of declining entrepreneurship in Hong Kong, but they do carry weight in terms of the whole economy of Hong Kong. Furthermore, the statistics do not include all people who are self-employed, and the total number in Hong Kong is sizable. There were, for instance, 235,700 selfemployed persons in 2005, representing nearly 7% of the total employment population of that year. But if we examine the fluctuation of self-employment figures for the past ten to fifteen years, we see a familiar story, i.e. the share of self-employed people in relation to the total employed population in the whole 1990s period declined. There were 143,900 self-employed persons in 1991, representing 5.23% of all employed people. The number of selfemployed people then dropped to 129,600 in 1994, and was still lower at 138,000 in 1997, before gradually picking up in 2000. In that year, the total number of self-employed was 162,600, but still only representing 5.07% of the total employment population — less than that of 1991. Although the figures have picked up since 2000, the main reason people are becoming self-employed is not through any aspiration of starting their own business, but because they have low skill levels or lack other alternatives. A General Household Survey conducted in 2003 on the characteristics of self-employed persons showed that only 31% of the self-employed said their main reason for becoming self-employed was “to start my own business”, while the least cited reasons were: “Unlikely to get employed because of low qualification/low skill/old age” (9.4%); “Wages/working conditions of jobs likely to be available did not fulfill own expectations” (9.0%); and “Better self-control on working hours” (8.7%). 2 This declining trend of entrepreneurship is echoed in research done by the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM). GEM launched a project in 1999 by Babson College and London Business School. The modus operandi was that each team of GEM conducted its own domestic investigation, but within a single consistent framework.

332 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

Because GEM keeps its methodologies consistent from year to year, it provides a time series panel data set and a reference for comparison. Each GEM team conducted research in three parts, i.e. the Adult Population Survey, Entrepreneurship Expert Interviews, and a Corporate Entrepreneurship Questionnaire. The Adult Population Survey in each of the participatory economies selected randomly at least 1,000 adults, whose responses to 40 questions were used to measure the entrepreneurial behavior and attitudes of the population. The survey produced, together with other information, a key measure of entrepreneurial activity called the Total Entrepreneurial Activity (TEA) index. In addition to TEA, it also provided two sub-indices of TEA: “Opportunity-based TEA” and “Necessity-based TEA”. They reflect the voluntary and involuntary nature of participation in business. The GEM research also placed importance on the start-up. The respondent entrepreneur in the survey had to participate in either 1) a business start-up, where work has been done to affect the start-up but wages have been paid for less than three months, or 2) a new firm, where the firm was less than 42 months old at the time of the survey. The research done in 2003 is the second time that Hong Kong participated in the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor project.3 The team supervised a professional survey firm which sampled 2,000 adults in Hong Kong by telephone interviews conducted during the months of May and June, 2003. Hong Kong’s entrepreneurial prevalence rate (TEA) in 2003 was 3.2% of the adult population, among the lowest in the world (see Table 3). This Hong Kong TEA index has been fairly stable from year to year, ranking at 3.5%, 3.2%, and 3.0% in 2002, 2003, and 2004 respectively. “This persistence suggests that TEA is a reliable indicator of entrepreneurship. If TEA fluctuated dramatically, the methodology would be suspect”, said the team (2004: 5). The GEM findings also revealed other detailed information on the characteristics of the entrepreneurial activities in Hong Kong. First, as in other developed economies, there were more “opportunity” entrepreneurs (2.2%) than “necessary” entrepreneurs (1.12%). This means that people who start a business are more driven by their own pursuit of interest, in contrast to being pushed by the fact that there is no other choice. Second, the age groups of 31–35 (7.8%) and 21–25 (6.1%) were more entrepreneurial than other age groups. Third, “Hong Kong adults with matriculation and those with a first university degree are the most entrepreneurial. In comparison, adults with a professional diploma and those with a graduate degree are the least entrepreneurial” (2004: 29). Fourth, high-income groups of people were more active in terms of participating in business formation. People with a monthly income of $40,000 or above had the highest percentage of

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? 333 Table 3 Total entrepreneurial activity in 31 economies Economy

Total TEA

Opportunity TEA

Necessity TEA

Argentina

19.73

14.20

7.46

Australia

11.60

9.90

1.50

Belgium

3.87

3.34

0.32

12.90

6.90

5.50

8.01

6.45

1.05

Chile

16.90

10.50

5.90

China

11.60

5.50

5.50

Croatia

2.56

1.74

0.59

Denmark

5.90

5.30

0.40

Finland

3.14

2.70

0.30

France

1.40

0.81

0.51

Germany

5.20

3.70

1.20

Brazil Canada

Greece

6.80

4.20

2.60

Hong Kong

3.20

2.20

1.12

Iceland

11.20

9.40

0.80

Ireland

8.10

8.10

1.30

Italy

3.19

2.90

0.22

Netherlands

3.60

3.00

0.40

New Zealand

13.60

11.50

1.70

7.46

6.39

0.67

Shenzhen

10.49

8.63

1.83

Singapore

4.90

3.90

1.00

Slovenia

4.00

3.10

0.80

South Africa

4.30

2.90

1.50

Spain

6.77

6.05

0.51

Sweden

4.10

3.70

0.40 1.00

Norway

Switzerland

7.40

6.30

USA

11.90

9.10

1.70

Uganda

29.20

16.90

13.40

6.36

5.33

0.97

27.30

16.10

11.60

8.93

6.40

2.40

United Kingdom Venezuela All Countries

Source: Global Entrepreneurship Monitor — Hong Kong and Shenzhen 2003

the TEA (8.1%). The summary of TEA in Hong Kong by age and income is shown in Figure 3. The research also informs us that among all the interviewed experts, 89% of them thought that Hong Kong people were very entrepreneurial, and that was a key strength of Hong Kong. It is the conflicting picture of

334 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions Figure 3 Total entrepreneurial activity in Hong Kong by age and income

18.0% 16.1% 16.0% 14.0% 12.0% 10.0% 8.0%

7.1%

7.2% 6.3% 6.5% 6.4%

6.0% below 10,000 4.0%

3.4% 10,000–24,999

2.0%

25,000 or above

0.0% 0.0% 21–25 years old

31–35 years old

Group average

Age

Source: Global Entrepreneurship Monitor — Hong Kong and Shenzhen 2003, 32

this assessment and the reality that turns our attention to the subjective measurement of entrepreneurship in Hong Kong. Our main sources of data come from two surveys: one is a set of longitudinal data on the social development of Hong Kong — the Hong Kong Social Indicator project; and the other is provided by the Census and Statistics Department’s Thematic Household Survey reports. Hong Kong has always been considered one of most entrepreneurial places in the world. This Hong Kong entrepreneurship is characterized by its private initiative, family ownership, reliance on networks, and preference for autonomy (S. L. Wong 1996). Discussions on the reasons as to why Hong Kong shows high entrepreneurial spirit are well documented (S. L. Wong 1988, Lui and Wong 1994). Some attribute this entrepreneurial ethos to collective anxiety of Hong Kong as a refugee shelter and to its colonial rule with refrained channel of social mobility (S. L. Wong 1992, 1998). Studies on the entrepreneurs in the 1970s revealed that this group was a well-educated one relative to the general population, but they did not have the right kind of education credential essential for the competition for stable and salaried employment. Those mainstream occupations such as professional and executive opportunities were often closed to them. Others place the emphasis on the change of industrial structure in the 1960s and 1970s, which invited entrepreneurial activity (Lui and Wong 1994). Rapid social and economic changes have occurred since the 1980s, but what are the impacts of these changes on Hong Kong people’s entrepreneurial motivation and career aspiration?

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? 335

Survey results from the Social Indicator project revealed that entrepreneurial motivation remains high in Hong Kong, although the channels of social advancement may have altered.4 Elsewhere, Siu-lun Wong summarizes the key survey findings (1998: 26): First, there exists strong normative support for the capitalist system. Values such as profit orientation and competition are widely endorsed by the population (T. W. P. Wong 1995: 373). Second, entrepreneurs are upheld as models. In a 1985 survey, for instance, more than 70 percent of the respondents regarded successful tycoons such as Li Ka-shing and Y. K. Pao as worthy examples for young people to learn from (Lau and Kuan 1988: 64). Third, there is a burning desire for self-employment. In the 1993 indicator survey, when respondents were asked whether, given the opportunity, they would set up their own business, the great majority said they would (T. W. P. Wong 1995: 376). Fourth, money is regarded as very important. It was consistently ranked high, either in second or third place, when Hong Kong people were asked to list the most important ingredients of a happy life in successive indicator surveys. … Fifth, investment and “speculative” behavior are rather common …

A recent analysis on the Social Indicator surveys conducted between 1988 and 2001 provides detailed figures and investigation on this issue (Zheng and Wong 2004). The analysis confirmed some previous findings. A majority of respondents wanted to be their own boss, and younger people with a higher education and more financial means were more willing to strive to set up their own business (see Table 4). Furthermore, their investigation revealed that people were beginning to choose other channels to move up the social ladder. Most notable was the channel of education — a channel to less risky and more stable work, i.e. professional and administrative (see Table 5). Table 5 also shows an increasing inclination to choose a job with promotion potential compared with the attainment of professional credentials. This may largely be due to the rapid expansion of higher education in the 1990s, and its impact on the job market.

Table 4 Preference to set up one’s own business Year

1992

1997

Yes

77.9

73.2

No

16.9

20.8

unknown (no answer) Total

5.2

6

100 (308)

100 (720)

Source: Zheng and Wong (2004) Case Studies of Chinese Family Enterprises in Hong Kong, 227

336 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions Table 5 Views on the most possible and promising career paths Year

1988

1990

Opportunity to be promoted

8.3

6.8

14.2

Attainment of professional credentials

35.8

36.5

28.9

Self-employment

37.5

37.4

36

No difference among above three

10.8

10.8

12.8

Unknown/no answer/refuse

7.6

8.6

8.2

100.0 (408)

100.0 (222)

100.0 (720)

Total

1997

Source: Zheng and Wong (2004) Case Studies of Chinese Family Enterprises in Hong Kong, 234

Both Table 4 and Table 5 demonstrate a gradual, minor decline of entrepreneurial motivation in Hong Kong. This decline became more evident when Hong Kong met the challenge of the economic downturn and the economic restructuring process. People were more prudent in setting up their own business. The Thematic Household Survey (THS) reports done by the Census and Statistics Department provide us with some up-to-date information.5 According to the survey conducted in mid-2000, only 2.2% of respondents had a plan or intention to set up their own business within the next 12 months. This figure fell to 1.7% in the 2002 survey. We, of course, are aware of the fact that this extremely low intention rate may be due to more specific and less hypothetical questions being asked in the survey. But further investigation into the reasons is more telling. In the 2000 survey, more than half of respondents were driven by the aspiration of making more money, whereas less than half wanted to be their own boss. In the 2002 survey, the percentage of people wanting to be their own boss had reduced by half — 20.5% (see Figure 4). Most recently, the Guangdong Administration of Industry and Commerce released its records of those businesses registered as an “Individual Business” (getihu) from Hong Kong since the introduction of the Closer Economic Partnership Arrangement (CEPA). The total number of Hong Kong “individual business” registered was 649 at the end of June 2004. Given the opportunity that CEPA has provided and Hong Kong’s high entrepreneurial reputation, the number falls far short of expectations. It was considered an indication of declining entrepreneurship in Hong Kong (Hong Kong Economic Journal, Editorial on August 3, 2004). These sets of data we have gathered suggest we are witnessing a more evident decline of entrepreneurial activity in Hong Kong, probably to a lesser degree in terms of entrepreneurial spirit. This may partly be due to the economic downturn of the past few years. But there are also structural reasons, and it is to these structural reasons that our investigation now turns.

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? 337 Figure 4 Aspiration for setting up own business Aspirations for Setting Up Own Business 55.4% 52.6%

Can earn more money

47.2%

Want to have own business/want to be an employer

20.5%

Reasons

Want to grasp new opportunities in a changing business environment

18.8%

Want to take up new challenge

18.6%

Hard to find job

12.7%

For interest Being unemployed

6.3%

Others

6.1%

0.0%

Year 2000 Year 2002

14.7% 13.8%

10.0%

20.0% 30.0%

40.0%

50.0%

60.0%

Source: C&SD, Thematic Household Survey Report No. 1 and No. 13, 91 and 95 respectively

What are the possible reasons for such a decline? The industrial restructuring since the late 1980s and its impacts on entrepreneurship Into the 1980s, Hong Kong’s manufacturing industries began to feel the increasing pressure of lowering production costs due to intensified global competition. Consequently, Hong Kong’s economy is gradually transforming from a manufacturing-based one into a more service/commercial networkoriented one. The economic transformation is made possible by production relocation to the mainland, mainly in the Pearl River Delta. According to a recent study on Hong Kong’s manufacturing and trading companies, 52% of all manufacturing and import-export firms had some kind of manufacturing activity in the mainland in the year 2000 (Federation of Hong Kong Industries 2003: 21). In real terms, it meant a total number of 63,000 Hong Kong–based manufacturing and trading establishments. Hong Kong entrepreneurs have never been confined to Hong Kong. But the relocation of Hong Kong entrepreneurs to the mainland since the late 1980s has been taking place on such a large scale that we have not yet fully understood its impacts on our society. A possible link to this exodus of entrepreneurs is that Hong Kong’s real GDP growth has shown a steady slowdown. Compared with 10.1% and 7.9%, the average real growth rates

338 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

from 1976–1982 and 1983–1988 respectively, Hong Kong only recorded 4.9% from 1989–1994. This took place against the background of Hong Kong becoming a service-based economy which keeps the highest valueadded segment of the manufacturing industry to itself and provides production services. Our argument for this economic slowdown is that while we have a larger number of entrepreneurs moving out of Hong Kong, far fewer entrepreneurs are coming here to start their businesses. With respect to entrepreneurship, this economic restructuring also leads to a slackening of start-up attempts, which we have observed from Figure 1. Before the restructuring, Hong Kong enjoyed a vigorous supply of entrepreneurs for the following reasons. First, the industrial strength of Hong Kong was its quick response and adaptability to market demands. It failed to upgrade its manufacturing industries, which remained laborintensive in the 1980s. Second, most of the manufacturing companies were small- and medium-sized ones, operating through an intensive subcontracting network. Third, there was a large supply of entrepreneurs who did not “have the right kind of educational credentials, as many mainstream occupations with professional, administration and executive opportunities are closed to them” (Sit and Wong 1989: 236). It was this “relative deprivation” that drove them away from stable salaried jobs and into more risky entrepreneurial activities. Fourth, Sit and Wong’s research on Hong Kong manufacturing entrepreneurs further revealed that the majority of these entrepreneurs (80%) had worked in one job, accumulating know-how and capital before venturing into setting up their own businesses. And if they somehow failed in their endeavors, they often went back to their previous jobs. Therefore, although new ventures brought on a great degree of uncertainty, the possibility of going back to previous work provided a kind of safety net. Together with the low-tech requirement and a subcontracting network, the entry bar for new business was low, thus small- and medium-sized enterprises grew to form the backbone of Hong Kong’s economy in the 1970s and 1980s. By the late 1980s, along with the relocation of some parent companies to the mainland, the previous subcontracting network began to crumble. This left Hong Kong with those small but highly professional and technical firms to provide services in finance, marketing, product design and development, tooling, quality assurance, packaging, etc. The rest of the service sector required larger capital investment in areas of transport, logistics, warehousing, finance and so on. In a nutshell the entry bar is much higher, in terms of financial as well as human capital. We therefore see the decline of entrepreneurial attempts. The Thematic survey mentioned above provides more detailed information on this trend (Table 6 and Table 7).

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? 339 Table 6 Economically active persons who had plan/intention to set up own business in the coming twelve months by economic sector of the business desired Economic sector of the business desired

No. of persons ('000)

Wholesale, retail and import/export trades, restaurants and hotels Financing, insurance, real estate and business services

%

36.1

63.3

6.1

10.8

Community, social and personal services

5.6

9.9

Transport, storage and communications

3.7

6.4

Construction

3.3

5.8

Manufacturing

1.9

3.4

Others Total

0.3 57.1

0.5 100

Note: Some estimates are based on only a small number of observations and thus should be interpreted with caution.

Table 7 Problem anticipated in setting up own business Problem anticipated in setting up own business #

No. of persons ('000)

%

Insufficient capital

27.8

48.7

Keen competition

24

42.1

Poor business

10

17.5

Inadequate business experience

8.1

Lack of relationship/personal network

6.9

12.1

High rental of office/shop

5.7

10

Cannot recruit suitable staff

5.1

8.9

Cannot find suitable location for office/shop

4.7

8.3

Insufficient knowledge of the procedures to set up new business

2.4

4.2

Overall

14.2

57.1

Note: # Multiple answers were allowed. Source: Thematic Household Survey Report No. 13, 103, 107

Education, career preference, and entrepreneurship As a result of the expansion of tertiary education in Hong Kong since the 1980s, the education levels of Hong Kong’s manpower have been upgraded tremendously. According to the population census, about 52% of the population aged 15 and over has had at least upper secondary school education, and 13% have obtained a tertiary education. Compared with the corresponding figures of 20% and 3% in 1971, this change has enormous impacts on social mobility, career choice, and entrepreneurial endeavors.

340 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

But the relationship between higher education and entrepreneurial activity is somewhat intriguing. We tend to believe that the higher an education one gets, the more choices one may have. People with higher degrees prefer a range of stable, professional jobs. In most cases, it is when the opportunity to join mainstream society is blocked that people venture into setting up their business. We saw this happen to Hong Kong manufacturing entrepreneurs in the 1970s and 1980s. Research on Hong Kong and mainland immigrants to Canada also confirms this argument (Salaff et al. 2000). Lacking social capital, new professional and technical immigrants often had a hard time joining the local labor force, and had to start their own businesses. A recent study on Hong Kong’s creative industries reflects a similarly ironic situation: The educational background of the creative workforce confirms the claim that the creative sector absorbs workers with high educational qualifications. A majority 64.7% possess tertiary degrees. Those with non-degree qualifications, including sub-degree or associate degree and distance-learning for example, account for about 12%. … [However, in] contrast to the general belief that many creative sector workers are selfemployed, our study reveals that about 94% of creative workers are employees. Only 2.4% are employers and 3.7% self-employed. (Centre for Cultural Policy Research, The University of Hong Kong 2003: 52)

Whether higher education is a major factor in Hong Kong’s dampened entrepreneurship is an issue that is open to debate, but the solution to redress this decline seems somehow to have been placed upon education. In recent years, many research institutions for entrepreneurial studies have been set up, and many courses on entrepreneurship are being taught. Also, in late 2000, the Singapore government announced that, with effect from 2001, some major changes would be made to its A-level curriculum. Emphasis was given to entrepreneurial spirit, thinking skills, information technology, and creativity. Education policy is such that it takes a long time to show the impact it has. But a recently published critical study of management education sheds some light on our expectation of entrepreneurship. In his book, Mintzberg offers a sweeping critique of the popular MBA programs based on his own teaching and research experience for the past 20 years. For him, management is a practice which “has to blend a good deal of craft (experience) with a certain amount of art (insight) and some science (analysis)” (2004: 1). But the conventional MBA programs have overemphasized the analysis and technical aspects of training, thus downplaying experience and insight. With the current admission of MBA students being very young with little managerial experience, Mintzberg considers those programs as training the wrong people in the wrong ways.

Is Hong Kong Entrepreneurship Declining? 341

If that is the case, maybe we should not be so sanguine about the contribution of entrepreneurship education to entrepreneurial activities. This is because, according to the more strict Schumpeterian approach of entrepreneurship, entrepreneurs, who provide the fundamental impulse/creative destruction force for economic development, are those blessed with talents to “steer a safe course, where no one has yet been” (Schumpeter 1947: 82). The difficulties here for entrepreneurial attempts are “first, because they lie outside of the routine tasks which everybody understands and, secondly because the environment resists in many ways that vary, according to social conditions, from simply refusal either to finance or to buy a new thing, to physical attack on the man who tries to produce it. To act with confidence beyond the range of familiar beacons and to overcome that resistance require aptitudes that are present in only a small fraction of the population and that define the entrepreneurial type as well as the entrepreneurial function” (1947: 132). Surely, education can nurture a particular set of values and a kind of culture. But to what extent it can also inspire insight or facilitate creativity remains to be seen.

12

The “Global City” as a Cultural Project: The Case of the West Kowloon Cultural District Agnes S. Ku and Clarence Hon-chee Tsui*

Over the years, Hong Kong has been an open city facilitating a worldwide circulation of people, goods and ideas (though this could be somewhat qualified in light of the discussion in the previous chapters). More recently since the 1990s, the idea of global city has become a most dominant form of urban imagination in the worldwide circuits of signs and space. The idea of global city echoes well with the theme of circulation, but it also entails a more specific urban form with a specific kind of outlook. The process of circulation in general, and that of globalization in particular, nonetheless has been inclined towards economic growth without nurturing cultural and political participation, especially under (neo-)colonialism or authoritarianism. This has left the people in Hong Kong with a cosmopolitan yet much depoliticized and ambiguous identity. With the growth of a localborn population over the post-war decades, a sense of home and citizenship has begun to take root and a new civil society is emerging with diverse claims to inclusion and participation. Entering the post-handover era, the city is now in search of a new political and cultural identity that engages with/disengages from its colonial past, negotiates its relations with China and the world, and aspires for greater participation. Is Hong Kong now well positioned as a global city that builds on a strong civic infrastructure and a vibrant cultural landscape? This chapter will take a critical look at

*

Clarence Hon-chee Tsui is an editor of the South China Morning Post. The authors would like to express their gratitude for generous funding from The 2022 Foundation and the Research Grants Council.

344 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

the colonial legacy and analyze the local processes whereby the “global city” imagery is constructed and contested in Hong Kong.

The “Global City” Project Cities can be seen as nodes within a global economy (Sassen 1991). The question of how the global and the local intersect in local economic development has received increasing attention in recent years from academics and policy thinkers alike. Starting in the UK and the US, the 1980s marked the beginning of intensified global restructuring worldwide, with the government embarking on a policy of urban entrepreneurialism and competitiveness in the post-industrial service economy (Harvey 1989a; Bianchini and Parkison 1993; Kearns and Philo 1993; Sadler 1993). Increasingly, cultural activities have become significant in the economic development strategies in many cities (Scott 1977).1 Some scholars put forward a new agenda of cultural globalization in light of the new developments. Crane (2002), for example, proposes to focus on the cultural policy strategies used by various actors to cope with, counter, or promote cultural globalization. From this perspective, cultural globalization is a process that “involves competition and negotiation as organizations and countries attempt to preserve, position, or project their cultures in global space” (p. 4). As in some Western cities, the characteristics of the newly developed cultural economic policy include, among others, increased investment in the infrastructure for cultural production, the launching of some “flagship” development projects for arts centres, theatres and concert halls and some local heritage events to encourage cultural tourism, and the forging of public-private partnerships. The global changes have registered a marked impact in various Asian countries and cities. In Hong Kong, following and extending the Metroplan in the 1980s,2 the SAR government envisions Hong Kong to be Asia’s world city. This idea is spelled out most distinctly in an official document entitled Bringing Vision to Life — Hong Kong’s Long-Term Development Needs and Goals, which was published in February 2000 in conjunction with the formation of the Commission on Strategic Development in early 1998. The whole idea is to consolidate Hong Kong’s position as a great international metropolis both in the nation and within the Asian region, comparable to that of New York in the United States and London in Europe. It is in conjunction with a high-profile policy of urban entrepreneurialism that culture is now increasingly promoted to the forefront of policy debates. The Western Kowloon Cultural District (WKCD) project proposed by the government is a case in point:

The “Global City” as a Cultural Project 345

The West Kowloon Cultural District (WKCD) will be a landmark development that enhances Hong Kong’s position as a world city of culture. The new cultural district will bring together a vibrant mix of performing and visual arts. The 40-hectare waterfront site will be both a showpiece for urban design and a meeting point for the local and international arts communities.3

From the critics’ point of view, Western experiences nonetheless reveal a potential conflict in the new development: a conflict between cultural policy as a globalization strategy emphasizing growth and property development in urban regeneration and cultural policy oriented to the protection and development of indigenous cultures. Radical views reject the former as “mobilization of the spectacle” — the idea that the gentrified city which is often close to the central business district needs the urban spectacle to reinforce residential choice and commercial value (Harvey 1989b). Locally, in its response to the Culture and Heritage Commission’s suggestions about the WKCD project, the government reiterated its belief in making the project “people-oriented”, a “partnership” and “communitydriven”. These were also principles the Commission advocated in terms of the formulation of a coherent cultural policy in the future. It appeared that the government, after years of demand from the public sector, agreed in moving towards a collaborative approach in decision-making over cultural policy. In turn, this change in event would inevitably influence many other aspects in society relating to governance, participation and the re-working of local culture. (By “re-working of local culture”, we underscore the possibility of transmuting the local into the global, that is, making local knowledge valuable cultural capital when placed in the global context.) However, much media bandwidth during the recent years about the WKCD project was spent examining the institutional hardware that came with it — and, of course, who was actually going to win the tender. Considerably less exposure was given to the effect this new cultural nexus would have on the community. Here the term means both the neighbourhood which the WKCD is to be constructed in (or next to, depending how one sees the geopolitical chasms that might arise) and also the community at large. The latter points not only to how public participation could be manifested through actual input to the project — from mere presence to active roles in planning — but also how this attempt might transform the way cultural policy is construed and thus impact on the notion of cultural citizenship in Hong Kong. In this chapter, using the WKCD project as an example, the authors will examine the cultural policy strategy by the SAR government through analyzing the institutional, political and cultural processes whereby the

346 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

“global city” imagination is translated in the context of Hong Kong. We will show that the WKCD project epitomized a particular strategy by the SAR government that in part evolved in response to the challenge of globalization, and that in part grew out of a cultural policy framework inherited from the colonial past. The chapter will first review the cultural policy and institutional framework in colonial times — characterized by non-interventionism and top-down drive under a fragmentary yet centralized structure. As we shall see from the case study, the WKCD project not only exemplified all these features but might also further push culture out of the hands of the local community through a top-down discourse of globalization. Such a strategy undermined cultural citizenship and was incapable of answering the demands of an increasingly agitated civil society. Going beyond a simple dichotomy of the global versus the local, the chapter will conclude with some comments on how we may work towards embedding a dynamic and enriched local space into a global city project.

Colonial Policy Legacy: The Paradox of NonInterventionism and Top-Down Drive Situated as a gateway between China and the outside world, Hong Kong has been a node in global and regional flows of cultures, ideas and resources since the late nineteenth century. Prior to the 1950s, cross-border movement was common among the popular art performers (for example, Cantonese opera singers) and literary writers from mainland China, which contributed to a vibrant cultural scene in the city. This took place in the absence of any specific government policies towards the arts and culture. Indeed until the early post-war decades, the colonial government’s cultural policy, if any at all, was one of laissez-faire or positive non-interventionism, which was nonetheless coloured with a tinge of top-down elitism. On the one hand, it adopted a hands-off approach to culture, which was the consequence of a colonial administration caught in the struggle between the pro-Beijing and the pro-Kuomintang factions in Hong Kong. Keen to avoid being sucked into this left-right face-off, the government neither assisted nor prohibited cultural activities so as to remain neutral. Such a hands-off approach in fact allowed the organic development of distinctly local cultural forms, such as Cantonese opera, visual arts and literature (Li n.d.), yet it also proved to have a harmful effect as the growth of the mass media during the 1970s rendered these traditional yet niche-based art forms obsolete. On the other

The “Global City” as a Cultural Project 347

hand, where the colonial government lay a hand over cultural matters, its role remained confined within a narrowly elitist framework that privileged Western high art, especially performing arts, for people in the upper echelon. (The other side to it was leisure and recreation for the mass as a means of social governance, especially after the riots in the sixties.) This colonial conception of culture continues to make an impact on the development of post-handover Hong Kong today. It has been widely acknowledged that Hong Kong did not (and still does not) have a macro-level, long-term cultural policy, to the extent that the first post-handover Secretary for Home Affairs, Lan Hong-tsung, went to the length of saying that there was no need for one. In response to the Legislative Council’s Subcommittee on Long Term Cultural Policy, the Home Affairs Bureau expressed reservation about expanding on their arts-based perspectives: As “culture” is an all-embracing term, a culture policy, if any, would necessarily have an impact on a wide spectrum of areas including education, housing, city planning, broadcasting and information, social welfare, industrial and economic development etc. If the definition is so broad, it would not be plausible for [the] Government to formulate a culture policy which encompasses every aspect of life. (Home Affairs Bureau 1998: par. 4)

The Bureau was only ready to concede that there was a need to “continue playing a supportive role in arts development” (par. 5). The position simply reinstated the conventional schema of equating cultural policy with arts policy, whilst taking the latter to be a means to social progress rather than an end in itself. The policy rhetoric by the SAR government in fact echoed similar statements made by the colonial administration before 1997: that a cultural policy was part and parcel of the colonial ruling elite’s civilizing discourse rather than a nurturance of identity and citizenship. Culture — of which arts is a crucial if not only part — was always utilized in order to facilitate colonial governance, social harmony and cultural belonging. This was easily seen in the history of cultural development throughout the 1960s and 1970s (Lilley 1998). In particular, the construction of the City Hall complex in 1962 was considered as a landmark of Hong Kong’s cultural development, which showed how culture or cultural policy remained focused on what could be known as sophisticated high art rather than culture as “a way of life” (Williams 1961). Away from the elites, it was the bread and circuses approach that formed the foundation of the British colonial administration ever since the social unrests of the 1960s. The government began to host

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activities that could both placate the population and serve as an ornament to colonial rule. Such showcases of colonial benevolence ranged from highend arts festivals to open-air dance parties for the young people. Performance arts became the darlings of the establishment during this era because such art forms as music, dance and theatre were more effective in entertaining the population, creating a leisurely environment that facilitated social harmony (Chow 1996). During the 1980s, culture and arts still prevailed as tools to create peace and harmony when Governor McLehose was told by Deng Xiaoping in 1979 about Beijing’s desire to reclaim Hong Kong’s sovereignty by 1997. This was done so as to return Hong Kong to China in a refined manner, so that Hong Kongers would reminisce about British rule.4 By viewing the provision of culture as a civilizing process, colonial policies on culture inevitably relied on top-down approaches. The arts policy laid down by the Executive Council in 1981 pointed to an emphasis on expanding educational and community participation opportunities, establishing partnership with the Urban Councils, and providing infrastructural support in terms of building cultural venues and offering performance opportunities (Home Affairs Bureau 2006). In 1982, in response to the new policy decision, the government set up the first institution geared primarily towards the formulation of arts policy — the Council for Performing Arts (CFPA). Just as the Academy for Performing Arts (founded in 1984), the overall policy was to support professionalization through the creation and sustenance of a small core of representative companies which “do credit to Hong Kong’s international scene” (Lilley 1998: 73). Wang Gungwu, the former vice-chancellor of The University of Hong Kong and chair of the CFPA, presented the views that arts were used for two purposes: “to make sure that the circus works” and to dispel Hong Kong’s “cultural desert” tag and attract foreign talents to live here (Lilley: 74). Apparently, such instrumental leanings stifled any discussion about Hong Kong developing its own culture and then letting the non-official bodies run it. Still, while the CFPA was begotten amidst such elitist approaches towards the arts, the statutory body itself made leaps and bounds in terms of dispensing with the emphasis on nurturing mainstream, conventional high art through established performance art companies. And during its brief existence in local cultural politics, it changed from a sponsor to the most accomplished troupes to an increased concern over small-scale independent artistic practitioners. The emergence of the Hong Kong Arts Development Council in the mid 1990s further opened up the cultural landscape, as elected representatives from the arts scene contributed non-

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elitist takes on how policy-making in culture and arts should proceed. The struggle which followed, however, illustrates one of the major themes that underlined such endeavours in the past few decades: the alternating centralization and fragmentation in the power to formulate policies concerning Hong Kong’s very own cultural development.

Centralization and Fragmentation in Power The administration’s discourse about allowing the public a free hand in coming up with its own culture or culture-related activities could be seen as paradoxical: for given how much the government — pre- and posthandover — insists about non-interventionism in culture and art, power over culture has always been centralized within the scope of the government. Yet, the institutional structure is characterized by both centralization and fragmentation in power. And the formulation and implementation of arts policies are “complex and frequently contradictory” (Lilley 1998: 55), a result of the sprawling nexuses of power in the cultural hierarchy. In the 1960s and the 1970s, the colonial government made a first step towards cultural democracy when it allowed the Urban Council to exercise power over, among other tasks, the management of the City Hall complex and other recreational activities. It also allowed the Council to sponsor and promote theatrical and musical performances and to conduct literary, artistic and sports competitions and activities (Miners 1995). The fact that the Council had an elected element since elections were re-introduced in 1952 (the Council was to become fully elected by universal suffrage in 1995, only for the body’s post-handover successor, the Provisional Urban Council, to have again appointed members) made the government’s move especially relevant in terms of sharing cultural governance with representatives of the public. The Urban Council (as well as the Regional Council set up in 1986 specifically for matters in the nine districts belonging to the New Territories) kept its influence on the city’s artistic and cultural life through financial sponsorship of arts groups and control of the government recreation and culture service. However, the development of the Urban Council was not necessarily equivalent to a bottom-up participatory politics. In essence, it remained one of cultural democratization from above whereby the cultural wealth that used to belong to the ruling elite or the privileged few was channelled towards people of the lower classes from above. In such a framework, events such as the Hong Kong Arts Festival (since 1973) or the International Film Festival (since 1974) provided the population with a celebration of

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distinctly Western aesthetics. Meanwhile, they also became either tourist magnets or a way of maintaining social harmony after the mass riots in the 1960s. When the CFPA was formed in 1982, it was an advisory body to the Culture Division of the Recreation and Culture Branch (later the Broadcasting, Culture and Sports Bureau). Apart from the Urban Council and the Regional Council, it was as yet the highest level of community participation in terms of cultural policy-making, with a duty to approve grants to applying artists. Regarding its institutional structure, all the members were appointed by the government and thus offered no guarantee of a say from the public in the decision-making process. Criticism towards the CFPA revealed demands from the public and also from arts practitioners for a more open approach towards the nurturance of arts and culture. Rather swiftly the CFPA was enmeshed into the government’s bureaucratic labyrinth, with funding applications needing lengthy time — a fact that could spell the end of some hard-up artists. It was criticized by avantgarde performing arts troupe as working in contravention against the principle of democracy. In fact, much criticism focused on red tape — the punch line herein was that the CFPA was “like civil service or accountancy department” (Lilley 1998: 74). Such demands were the first instances of organized resistance against the all-domineering CFPA. It was in 1993 that the government unleashed the Arts Policy Review Report, which aimed at reviewing and even overhauling the cultural policymaking and executive framework within the colonial administration. The report recommended, among others, enlarging the scope of the government’s responsibilities for the arts to cover also visual and literary arts; setting up a centralized non-statutory arts council to succeed the CFPA; and bringing into existence a creative environment for the flourishing of the arts. Amidst a time of increasing political demand for democracy in society, the debate over the Report could be seen as civil society in action: A previously fragmented scene appeared to have learnt the necessity of banding together to advocate alterations to policy. People began to speak and write of a united “arts community” and while this phrasing doubtless strategically ignored dissension amongst art practitioners, it did indicate that valuable lessons had been learned since the 1980s as Hong Kong moved in the direction of a slightly more accountable political system. (Lilley 1998: 81)

After public consultation, the Hong Kong Arts Development Council (HKADC) was born, which became an independent statutory body in 1995 that coordinated arts policy and funding decisions for local artists. With an

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elected component — albeit making up less than half of the council — the HKADC was instilled with transparency and legitimacy, where meetings were open to the public and the arts community. The makeup of the council presented a new step for the outgoing colonial government’s concessions to demands for public participation. However, far from laying the foundation for a coherent, long-term cultural policy, the decision-making processes showed much fragmentation in the last days of the colonial era as well as the first few years under the Tung administration. Firstly, the institutional structure of cultural policymaking was ill-coordinated. Under an executive-led political structure, the Urban Council (and later the Regional Council) did not have full power in hand even over culture-related matters. It never commandeered the Urban (or Regional) Services Department as such, with civil servants from the latter having the liberty to ignore the council’s demands for action. The furore over the change in the architectural details of the Hong Kong Central Library in 1999 — which involved the then head of the Urban Services Department Elaine Chung Lai-kwok altering building plans without consulting councillors — was in fact a very good manifestation of the lameduck nature of the then in-demise council in times of crisis or decision. Moreover, the HKADC shared and struggled over say with the Urban Council and the Regional Council in artistic and cultural plans. Confused signals from the administration could be seen in its increasing centralization of power in culture and arts through the Home Affairs Bureau and the part-advisory, part-democratic and part-grant-giving HKADC. There was always confusion about where the work of the Home Affairs Bureau — and, before 2000, the Urban Council and the Regional Council — started and where the HKADC’s jurisdiction ended. This was shown, for example, in the discrepancy in funding between companies such as the Hong Kong Repertory Theatre and the Hong Kong Chinese Orchestra (funded by firstly the Urban Council, and then the Leisure and Cultural Services Department (LCSD), before privatization in 2001) and those supported by three-year or one-year grants from the HKADC. Such a lack of co-ordination in terms of demarcating the jurisdiction of individual statutory entity was also manifested when the HKADC, the Urban Council and the Regional Council all formulated five-year plans in 1995, 1996 and 1997 respectively. Secondly, since the 1980s, the tradition of non-interventionism over the arts and culture was further exacerbated under the global neo-liberal trend of privatization and marketization. The government was in the process of bringing business interests into the arts in the shape of financial sponsorship and other logistical assistance. The issue both the government and its detractors were most concerned about up until the mid-1990s was

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the problem of funding and sustenance, rather than the formation and implementation of an overarching cultural policy. As we shall see in the case study in the next section, this trend of privatization or corporatization became most marked in the WKCD project. Thirdly, although the government emphasized the need for society to formulate their own cultural activities, and thus would be born an organic cultural policy as such, there was clearly no end in sight in terms of the reconciliation of different artistic power blocs into engaging in one nonofficial cultural forum. Similar united-front pressure groups floundered before: the Joint Sector Cultural Conference was dead in the water, amidst all the long meetings and red tape that hindered participation from the people. Even though Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa stressed the importance of cultural traditions, even to the length of envisioning Hong Kong as becoming a centre for cultural exchange in Asia, ironically, his administration repeatedly marginalized the importance of a cultural policy as such. Even with the projected construction of much hardware for cultural and artistic activities, developments did not bode well as official discourse played down time and again the need to treat culture seriously as an issue apart from its instrumental value as an economy-booster. Cultural tourism and creative industries were two issues on the government agenda, but the development of an indigenous culture or allowing bottom-up participation in such endeavours was never addressed or discussed. As mentioned before, the first post-handover secretary for home affairs (assigned the cultural and arts portfolio after the government’s structural reshuffle in 1998) explicitly dismissed the need of a cultural policy, stressing that culture should be the result of initiation in the society rather than from government imposition. This was a continuation of the policy as stipulated by the Broadcasting, Culture and Sports Bureau before the government reshuffled in 1998. Deputy Secretary for the Bureau Jenny Wallis, speaking just weeks before the shake-up, also told the Provisional Legislative Council’s Broadcasting, Culture and Sports Panel that the government did not have plans to formulate a comprehensive cultural policy: It had all along been the government policy to refrain from intervening in cultural activities which should be allowed to develop in a free and diversified manner. Nevertheless, as Hong Kong people faced the historic change arising from reunification with the motherland, individuals would need to go through a gradual process of getting to know Chinese history and culture, in order to have a sense of national and cultural identity. [The Broadcasting, Culture and Sports Bureau] would continue to promote work in this direction. (Provisional Legislative Council Secretariat 1998: par 18)

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Here, the administration revealed its discourse over culture — one that arguably continued the strong-armed policies as stipulated by the prehandover administrations. While comfortably delegating the powers of organizing leisurely and recreational activities to the free market, the government saw the need to retain control over the most important part of cultural policy — that of the formation of a “national and cultural identity” among the population, something the colonial administration was reluctant to do for fear of the emergence of anti-colonial sentiments. On surface, the government relieved itself of ideological governance by stressing its concerns about freedom of artistic expression; however, it is evident that the major ideological issue was too sensitive to be left to civil society. Centralization of cultural policy-making powers could be seen in 2000 when the government repealed the existence of the Urban Council and the Regional Council and replaced the executive arm to the two bodies, the Urban and Regional Services Department, with the Leisure and Cultural Services Department (LCSD). The ascension of Patrick Ho Chi-ping, then the incumbent chair of the Hong Kong Development Council, to the position of secretary for home affairs (succeeding Lam Woon-kwong) in Tung’s cabinet reshuffle in 2003 saw a deepening trend of centralization. Under him, the reorganization of the cultural and artistic facilities in the municipal system grounded to a churning, centralized halt. After the dissolution of the Urban Council and the Regional Council, the Home Affairs Bureau became endowed with most of the responsibilities in managing cultural facilities and policy-making. Participation from outside the government was now rooted in advisory bodies such as the Antiquities Advisory Board and the HKADC. While the latter possessed executive power regarding allocation of funds to specific artistic projects, cultural policy-making remained within the jurisdiction of top government officials. In brief, while the government insisted on allowing the society a free hand over its cultural interests and endeavours, its practice of making arts the foundation of all things cultural was a continuation of the colonial administration’s civilizing process. Government restructure of its cultural hierarchies — first with the subjugation of culture (and arts) under the Home Affairs Bureau, and then the removal in cultural policy-making of the participatory politics provided by the Urban Council and the Regional Council — hardly replaced this overarching strand towards culture. The government continued to endorse or support performances that fell into the high art category, such as the Leisure and Cultural Services Department’s continuous curatorship of artistic and cultural festivals (such as the biannual New Vision Festival, as well as the visit of classical musical ensembles to Hong Kong). When Hong Kong Opera was founded in 2003, one of the major aims was to lift Hong Kong’s international image. However, without

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a coherent cultural policy framework on the ground, the government’s strategy was more like a haphazard response to external forces under a much fragmented yet centralized policy structure. The controversy over the WKCD project could be understood against such a background. With the Urban Council and the Regional Council dispensed with and the HKADC taking up an advisory role under the given policy structure, the Tung (and later, Tsang) administration pushed ahead their plans through various phases almost unhindered. It bypassed the Executive Council and the Legislative Council, sidelined the art community and paid no heed to strong oppositions in society. Over the seven to eight years of the development of the project, it gradually “pushed” itself into increasing confrontation with a suspicious public and an assertive legislature, and was finally pressed to scrap the initial proposals in 2006. Looking back, although the initial proposals already became bygones, the saga over the WKCD project during this period remains illuminating regarding the institutional, political and cultural processes underpinning the “global city” imagination in post-handover Hong Kong.

The West Kowloon Cultural District Project Culture as Spectacle from a Global Gaze The WKCD project in Hong Kong, just like the Global City for the Arts in Singapore or other similar projects in the region, is an example of urban entrepreneurialism in the global era at the turn of the new century. This, to some extent, reflects a new trend of urban regeneration as well as cultural globalization that has been on the rise in Western Europe and the United States over the past two decades. Yet, the developments in these Asian cities are also distinctive in their own ways. As Evans (2001) points out, The juxtaposition of commerce with culture, alongside or even in place of public culture (“realm”) in the form of cultural venues, facilities and monuments appears more intense in New World cities undergoing modernisation than in the old cities. This is in large part due to the short period over which modernization has occurred compared with old industrial and world cities, and in some cases their leap from primary to tertiary and post-industrial stages of economic development. This is particularly manifest in terms of monumental edifices … (p. 226)

In the context of Hong Kong, lacking a robust cultural policy tradition, the WKCD project began essentially as a tourist-driven imperative rather

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than an initiative borne out of a clear and long-term plan for cultural development.5 It made its first appearance in official discourse when the then Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa pledged for the construction of “a new, state-of-the-art performance venue” as “a catalyst for upgrading our image as Asia’s entertainment capital” (HKSAR Government 1998: par. 46).6 Tung mentioned the construction of such a site in the same breath as a new sports stadium, a new centre for water-sports and a multi-media theme park (ibid.). From the government’s standpoint, the performance venue was to serve as merely the showcase for entertaining spectacles, rather than as a catalyst for the development of Hong Kong’s very own arts scene, not to mention community well-being. Notwithstanding the incentive to engineer a profit-making exercise in that void, the development of West Kowloon could also be seen from a ruler’s point of view as the symbolic imposition of power — the erection of a landmark — as well as a symbol of high civilization. If considerations about economic interests and symbolic power were the major impetus behind the “Asia’s World City” imagination, why culture then? It looked like the WKCD project was a direct response by the government to the demand for cultural globalization from some outside forces. The proposals for the WKCD project were in fact not initiated by an official volte-face; rather, what first produced the genus for an artistically driven node in the district was the criticism from the producers of British and North American musicals about the lack of performing space in the early 1990s (Ming Pao Weekly, December 11, 2004: 2). When organizers behind Cats and Les Miserables were denied bookings at local performance venues, they went to Governor Patten, as well as the press, to vent their frustration, decrying Hong Kong’s worthiness as a cultured city in the process. The Patten administration’s decision to examine the possibility of building a large theatre for musicals became the bedrock of the development in West Kowloon. The root of the project (as a possible host for Western blockbuster programmes) and the spirit itself (that the venue was to steer towards an upmarket audience) revealed a desire to court international prestige. Apart from direct demand from global interests, the requirements for the core arts and cultural facilities in West Kowloon reflected the persistence of culture as sophistication rather than as a cultivation of local knowledge as cultural capital. According to the government’s invitation for proposals, such core proponents included theatres, performance venues, museums, art exhibition centres, a water amphitheatre and four piazzas. There were no exact pre-requisites or directives about what these venues should resemble and whether they should be geared towards the development of particular art forms; the requirements simply stated the hardware without mention of how they should or could be utilized. Evidently, prescribing the

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content of a cultural district in this manner revealed two things: that the government lacked or refused to commit to a vision in its cultural policymaking, and that in the absence of such a coherent vision, the infrastructure-as-cultural landmark became Hong Kong’s surrogate model for culture. This was in essence a continuation of the colonial policy framework, and what distinguished the post-handover era from the colonial past was perhaps a much more insistent search for a “cultural spectacle” from a global gaze. Unlike many other urban development projects, the planning of WKCD never addressed its new complex relationship with the neighbouring areas and also with the existent cultural/museum cluster on the southernmost tip of the Kowloon peninsula, merely a half-hour walk away. Such planning ran against the numerous edicts of Town Planning Board, especially the one in 1999 in which the body advocated community regeneration through the cultivation of its existent identity. Given the fact that West Kowloon would eventually fall under the jurisdiction of the Yau Tsim Mong District Council — an area covering Yau Ma Tei, Tsim Sha Tsui and Mongkok — the decision to deny the area an opportunity to interact with the neighbourhood was peculiar. While not part of the IFP (Invitation for Proposals), the government made numerous overtures about West Kowloon as a community in itself, with the canopy that was required to cover 55 per cent of the district being the marker of the area’s special character. Such a symbolic closure of the area from the districts beyond its perimeters only served to differentiate the WKCD as a special, impermeable organism independent of any outside cultural influences. Questions were raised about the technical viability and the cost-effectiveness of the canopy. A key proposal, by Swire Properties, was screened out because the canopyless plans did not fit the requirements. In addition, the public space under the canopy would be severely restricted and the whole area would undergo a mystification, in which visitors were made to feel a sense of awe. The area’s non-existent ties with its neighbouring areas certainly would not bode well for an organic development of arts and culture in the area and in Hong Kong in general.7 The government’s decision to circumvent consultation with and advice from local district authorities was first revealed when the government altered its original West Kowloon Reclamation plans — from residential and commercial-led to the WKCD incarnation — without consultation or detailed studies. It was also revealed in the brief on the Planning and Land Bureau’s Concept Plan Competition for the development of WKCD in 2001. The document, which was intended to outline the requirements and constraints for urban designers, only mentioned Tsim Sha Tsui as a “development

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opportunity”: “the development of the [WKCD] Scheme Area into an integrated arts, cultural and entertainment district would achieve agglomeration, and the arts and cultural facilities provided therein would also complement and enhance the existing provision in Hong Kong” (pp. 16–17). The emphasis of integration, therefore, was focused on the practical determination to enhance Hong Kong’s competitiveness as a conventional haven for shopping. The focus here was to look outward rather than, as the original pre-WKCD blueprints in the early 1990s stated, a view back into the hinterlands: while no mention was made about Yau Ma Tei — whether the bustling urban communities on Shanghai Street, or the more local nexuses in Mongkok — the competition brief stressed how “the proposals should fully exploit the waterfront and harbour presence and translate into the development of distinguished identity” (p. 19). The identity, therefore, was not seen to lie with the people, as represented by the lived-in ethos in the residential areas of Yau Ma Tei, Mongkok and beyond. Such scant acknowledgement about the suggestions made on the development of the original West Kowloon Reclamation proposals echoed the government’s willingness to integrate WKCD into the existent geopolitical landscape. There was no encouragement from the government about West Kowloon’s effect on Yau Tsim Mong in general, and neither were the district-based organizations able to be involved in the planning of the WKCD. It was especially interesting that, in accordance to suggestions of the Culture and Heritage Commission report (2003), many proponents to the WKCD project came up with the idea of a museum for Hong Kong ink painting, but that the manifestation of similar indigenous art forms in everyday occurrences on Temple Street (just off the WKCD) remained un-commemorated in the proposals.

Culture as a Sham? At a more fundamental level, the issues at stake concerned not only the distinctions between hardware and (cultural) software, and between global demand and local culture, but also whether or not it was a genuinely cultural project at all, and for that matter who would be in charge of its development. The Culture and Heritage Commission (dissolved in 2003) was supposed to advise the government on arts and cultural development. It envisioned the WKCD project to be one of enhancing cultural participation among the people, which was recapitulated in the government’s Concept Plan Competition Document in 2001:

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West Kowloon cultural district should aim to enliven the city’s cultural life and animate the people’s participation. It should reflect the ideals of equality and public participation in its physical, emotional and intellectual accessibility for both locals and visitors to the city.

The Commission made some further concrete suggestions in its final report in 2003. The government later accepted the report as its blueprint for the development of arts and culture, but as the project developed, it shifted further and further away from the cultural vision. To begin with, as aforementioned, the WKCD project was not born out of a clear plan for long-term cultural development. Moreover, the policy structure regarding the planning and implementation of cultural facilities was very disjointed, which further fragmented the cultural essence of the project. Since 2000, following the dissolution of the Urban Council and the Regional Council, all policy matters relating to arts and culture were dealt with by the Home Affairs Bureau in conjunction with LCSD. Alongside the Policy Bureau, the Planning Department was responsible for identifying and reserving sites for the development of the proposed arts and cultural facilities. Quite ironically, as the development of WKCD showed, the project was basically steered by the former Planning and Lands Bureau with very little involvement of the Home Affairs Bureau. That is, WKCD appeared to be more about urban planning than about cultural development, and what was proclaimed to be a cultural project became a construction project. Apparently, not only was a clear vision of cultural planning lacking, a well-coordinated institutional structure was also not in place to oversee the development of the entire project in its various aspects (Legislative Council Secretariat 2006). Furthermore, there emerged a fundamental shift in the proposed mode of governance, with the government departing from its role as provider for arts and cultural development in the past to a public-private partnership (PPP) model. Under this PPP framework, the Invitation for Proposals (IFP) in 2003 adopted a single-package development approach for the WKCD project. In more specific terms, a single proponent from the private business sector would be awarded a land grant for the development of the entire site for a term of 50 years and required to maintain and manage the core cultural facilities for 30 years. The government justified the new approach in the name of efficiency. However, the terms of the proposals gave rise to a strong suspicion in society that the government was turning it into a predominantly commercial and residential project with arts facilities. Moreover, with the single-package development approach, the city’s longterm cultural development would effectively be left to the hands of a single developer. It was clear that the government was seeking to pass the

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responsibility from itself to the private sector. As one could expect, this proposed shift in the mode of governance would carry far-reaching implications for the role of the public in the decision-making structures and processes.

A Project without the Public: The Structure and Processes of Decision-Making There was a distinct lack of public consultation prior to the development of WKCD project.8 The government’s practices in the project were both in line and deviant from a Home Affairs Bureau and Leisure and Cultural Services Department consultancy study on provision of cultural and performance facilities in Hong Kong in 2002. The study encouraged corporatization of cultural venues — if not culture itself — through sponsorship and business partnerships, and this was the government’s diction in terms of its development plans for WKCD. The study also encouraged the involvement of “more stakeholders including the arts profession and the community in the process”, which was a challenge that the government nonetheless declined to take up. One could see in WKCD’s detachment from the community in general an aspect of the government’s policy-making towards arts and culture: a top-down or centralized approach in decision-making. The Steering Committee for Development of WKCD was chaired by the Chief Secretary Donald Tsang (later Rafael Hui), and the assessment panel was made up of senior civil servants only. Even the Executive Council — an advisory body to the chief executive in the formulation of policy and decision-making processes — was not involved in the formulation of plans at the WKCD, and was only consulted on the invitation for proposals from property developers before the documents were released to the public. Nor was such centralized decision-making conducted with the input of the legislators. The legislature was the only body with the constitutional power and function to approve public expenditure. The government nonetheless bypassed the body in its preparations for the project on the justification that the single-package development approach did not involve public funding. This view reflected the government’s commitment to the privatization of the arts and culture. Following the neo-liberal trend, it considered the WKCD, both when in construction and also after it was sold, to be a commercial entity beyond public scrutiny, to be managed without the involvement of respective social parties in civil society. This underlay a continuation of the government’s approach of centralization in

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decision-making regarding arts and culture from the past, except that the government would be passing the onus of responsibility to the private sector. The government’s rationale, however, was disputable as land was also one form of public resource. The legislature therefore argued that the disposal of land should be subject to the same scrutiny by Legislative Council as public expenditure. It urged that the government be accountable to it whereby the disposal of land resources would be achieved through an open and transparent process. At stake was a lack of accountability to a body that was supposed to represent the public. The only official channel for public input into arts and cultural policies is through the HKADC. However, the impact the body has on government policy-making is arguable. Its jurisdiction, for example, does not necessarily cover the provision of advice to the government on culture-related matters. Its objectives are to plan, promote and support the broad development of arts by developing its social functions, promoting arts education, expanding markets for artists and enhancing their social status. Moreover, under the disjointed institutional structure, the development of large-scale cultural hardware such as the WKCD was out of their terms of reference. In the case of the WKCD, the HKADC positioned itself as outside the project’s decision-making process. Its opinions were in the shape of position papers delivered to the government — just like any other arts organizations — and even though it already carried several consultation studies on the project (for example, an academic financial study in 2004), it saw itself as a potential partner without the hierarchy. Welcoming the launch of the WKCD, the HKADC actually announced its intention to “offer potential developers with professional advice and expertise on arts and culture, and to play a consultative role in this project” (HKADC 2004). The lack of public participation in the planning of the WKCD ran short of some of the advice provided by consultancy studies commissioned by the government itself. In a study on the provision of cultural and performance facilities by the Home Affairs Bureau in 2002, the government was encouraged to involve more stakeholders including the arts profession and the community in the process of planning, funding and the management of new facilities. While endorsing the idea of launching WKCD as a publicprivate partnership, the Culture and Heritage Commission report in 2003 also stressed the need of the government to facilitate partnerships between developers and the cultural sector, allowing the latter to participate in the planning and operation of the cultural facilities. The cultural sector — and the civil society as a whole — was underrepresented in the development of the WKCD. The lack of voice from the cultural practitioners outside the government actually rallied to the

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consolidation of extra-official bodies dedicated to the generation of public discussion over cultural policies, of which the WKCD remained a major facet. The People’s Panel on West Kowloon, for example, was set up in 2003 “to form a rational and knowledge base advocacy platform to reexamining the IFP” and “gain a more solid ground for achieving civil society and developing cultural think tank for Hong Kong”.9 Furthering the rationale that spawned the Panel, the body called for the establishment of a “Metropolis Cultural Think Tank” to enable public participation into the planning of the WKCD project, and to study and discuss “Cultural Vision” and “Urban Planning Vision”. Such a think-tank would serve as a precursor to a Provisional West Kowloon Authority, which the Panel stated as the optimal body to oversee the development and operation of the WKCD provided it was run as a “tripartite cooperation”, with members from the government, the property developers and voices from the civil society. Of what it described as a “paradigm shift” in policy-making, the Panel wrote that the WKCD involved research, planning as well as construction — a project that would demand the expertise from professionals, developers as well as the public, all of whom were stakeholders of the WKCD. The collective said that what they proposed the different stakeholders enjoy would be countered by the responsibility they had to shoulder to all the citizens in Hong Kong: It can gradually lead the government towards a cross-policy way of thinking that is “lateral and integrative”, creating the possibility of the government, the commercial sector and the civil society being collectively accountable to the public.10

One major concern expressed by activists outside the government hierarchy and the WKCD bidding parties was the need to consider the cultural software before — or at least, at the same time as — the hardware was constructed. Some argued that, for example, without the nurturing of local creative talents the WKCD would become “white elephants”: “if the world-class performance venue is predominantly used to stage the more popular internationally large-scale productions/events, this would not be conducive to the purposes of encouraging local arts and cultural development”. 11 The Legislative Council report furthered its case by reporting that the WKCD was “decided in a policy vacuum”; that is, the public was in no way let in on the decisions being made in the construction of WKCD: If, as claimed by the Administration, the provision of cultural facilities is to be supply-led, the successful proponent in WKCD will indirectly

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determine, to a large extent, the direction for the future development of arts and culture including the nurturing of cultural talents and promotion of arts education… The [Legco] Subcommittee considers that the responsibility of planning the cultural software should never be left to the private sector.12

The property developers who elected to submit proposals for the WKCD project offered a governance model in which parties outside the commercial realm was promised a position in the administration of a future WKCD. For all three proposals, a directorial board comprising members from “relevant sectors” were to be recruited (Dynamic Star), or governing boards with input from arts organizations and members of the public (World City Culture Park). It is of note, however, that a mode of global governance was being introduced in the various proposals, as developers such as World City promised to take “the best practices of cultural institutions around the world… [and] adapt them to the special conditions of Hong Kong”. What was unique in the development of WKCD was the perennial (omni)presence of the international arts and cultural lobby: in the government’s brief about the WKCD, delivered to the public in a road show about the project in 2004, the benefits for Hong Kong listed the enrichment of “our cultural life by attracting internationally-acclaimed performances and exhibitions” as the most prominent; the “look global” view was further manifested in other benefits listed, such as the enhancement of international cultural exchange and putting Hong Kong “on the world arts and culture map” (HKSAR Government 2004). The new concerns were addressed by the various bidders through the active recruitment of international advisors and collaborators as potential partners and advisors. World City Culture Park, for example, listed an international advisory council as a parallel entity to the board of directors; Dynamic Star, meanwhile, gave prominent positions to representatives of their partners (international museums and arts organizations) to the ruling hierarchy, and partnerships with bodies such as the Solomon Guggenheim Foundation, Centre Pompidou and Science World British Columbia would see them operate the museums, transfer management and operation knowhow, tap into the international museum networks and so on. The parties did include members outside these professional realms to be part of the administrative body (Dynamic Star, for example, listed legislators and Yau Tsim Mong district councillors as potential members of its various boards of governance), but the emphasis being placed on the international edge of the WKCD would inevitably lead to a certain concession of power to the foreign arts organizations and funding bodies. Their participation in the daily management, as well as curatorial designs, of the infrastructure and

The “Global City” as a Cultural Project 363

programming of the WKCD, compounded with a need for the developers to maintain a respectable profit for their private stakeholders, posited a potential marginalization of the less commercially viable local arts. As it developed, given the widespread misgivings in society, there took place a protracted struggle between the government and the public. More specifically, the government was struck a blow by the legislature that passed a motion calling for the scrapping of the single-developer approach and the idea of the giant canopy. In October 2005, the government conceded by demanding $30 billion up front from the winner to run the site’s museums and cultural venues and carving out 50 per cent of the commercial and residential area for open bidding. The revised conditions nonetheless did not attract the developers. And neither did they please the legislators from various parties, who, in a rare show of unity, passed a motion in February 2006 supporting their two reports calling on the government to radically rethink the WKCD project. Towards the end of the month, the government finally scrapped the proposals and the WKCD project was back to square one.

Concluding Remarks: Rethinking the “Global” and the “Local” In the new era of global capitalism, cities play an increasingly strategic role in urban entrepreneurialism. In Hong Kong, this process has been most distinctly captured in the catchphrase of Asia’s world city by the SAR government. The WKCD project, in particular, was envisioned as a global cultural project that was to be exemplified through the erection of an iconic landmark (hardware). The government offered a commercial package under a public-private partnership scheme that passed the project into the hands of the business sector. As we have discussed in this chapter, such development was a product of the interplay among colonial legacy, state paternalism, institutional fragmentation and neo-liberal globalism. This approach to the global city project had the effect of leaving the local — both local culture (software) and local participation — entirely out of the picture. Where is the boundary between the “global” and the “local”? Globalization does not take place in an abstract space but is embedded in our social, economic and political relations at multiple levels, locally, nationally and trans-nationally. The global and the local, therefore, are not distinct entities in a dichotomy. Recent years have witnessed an expanding literature conceptualizing their interaction, with such popular ideas of the

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“global-local nexus” (Teo and Li 2003), “glocalization” (Thorns 1997), “grobalization” (Ritzer 2004) and “indigenization” (Appadurai 1996). Scholars begin to distinguish between globalization from above and globalization from below, recognizing in the former a process of cultural homogenization in specific local sites under the sway of global capital (for example, Disneyland) or state-led competition, and in the latter one of harnessing local cultures to produce unique cultural capital for a heterogeneous global space. A more innovative approach, therefore, is to generate creative spaces for a dynamic interplay between global and local cultures. The global may carry certain common constituents but should not be taken as having a fixed or formulaic form. Conversely, by the local, it does not mean a parochial approach to culture that excludes any outside influence. Rather it underlines a dual emphasis on the practice of local arts and cultures and an institutional space for effective participation among the people as local stakeholders. In Hong Kong, the government has opted for a path of globalization from above that leaves no place for the local. In response, a civil society is in action seeking to create spaces for cultural participation in alternative ways. Cultural policy analysts speak of cultural development being the foundation of a civil society. The Culture and Heritage Commission’s viewpoint partially emancipates the cultural value of indigenous forms in its blueprint. For an establishment that has championed high-end sophistication as culture for years, this could be a step forward: the endeavours that make everyday customs a vital part of social progress and have them become the source for investment and tourist dollars. While past efforts in attaining the last goal has involved playing to the high-end gallery — to attract more tourists — the latest challenge for the government is to involve the community in heritage conservation areas. Here it is necessary to understand the diverging emphasis of the government and the community. The former engages mostly with projects that yield economic capital for the market, whereas the latter engages with local knowledge and ideas that press forward with cultural democracy in everyday practices among the people themselves or through collaboration with the government (as in the Art Village projects). It is essential that the mindset of what constitutes art and culture be reworked. Suggestions made by the Culture and Heritage Commission — such as encouraging owners of buildings of historical and architectural value to maintain and allow access to their properties for the sake of Hong Kong’s very own heritage — demand an interactive mode of operation between the government and the people. Only with this could local knowledge be able to be transformed to productive cultural resources.

The “Global City” as a Cultural Project 365

Last but not least, apart from the need to nurture our cultural software, the challenge ahead lies also in the development of an institutional structure that is adequate for a democratic, effective and creative way of cultural participation, which amounts to a form of cultural citizenship. This is essential for Hong Kong in working towards an innovative and locally grounded global project in the new century.

13

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O Wing-hoi Chan

Identities are often tied to places. In a city like Hong Kong, which aspires to Asia’s “global city,” where is the place of “community”? And how is it constructed? In recent decades, villages have been used as synecdoche/iconic symbols of the Special Administrative Region and the colony that was its predecessor. This to some extent reflects the salience of “village” in contemporary cultural and social imagination. Such well-known theoretical formulations as those of Marshall McLuhan and Benedict Anderson might be seen as instances of using the village as a metaphor for much larger “communities.” Locally, since early in the transition to 1997 the popular media has taken a new interest in rural communities as symbols of belonging and solidarity.1 Even some of those advocating critical approaches to Hong Kong culture and society might be seen as portraying a Tai O as a pure and homogenous “resisting” other.2 Therefore, just as some anthropologists in Hong Kong are re-thinking how their own earlier works might have erred in constructing reified and homogenized cultures and communities,3 it is difficult not to notice that the “peoples and cultures” concept and ahistorical constructions of places and communities disregarding connectedness in a world of unequal powers are gaining ground outside of the discipline. Does that mean anthropologists should apply their critique of ethnographies to the new corpus that has arisen amid echoes of the “anthropology in crisis” in other circles? Or should they be content to know that new breeds of culture and place descriptions are serving worthwhile causes, or to celebrate the nirvana of polyphony and multivocality? Or should they, as Roger Keesing and others have argued,4 take the contested nature of culture as a given and investigate

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the power relationships that shape, enable, or suppress different voices? This chapter uses Tai O as a case to explore what the representations of rural communities mean for the “microcosms” as well as the wider Hong Kong society. In doing so, it also hopes to contribute to subtler understanding of the meanings of apparent parochialism in an increasingly globalized world.

A Fluid and Heterogeneous Past Tai O is widely regarded in Hong Kong as a quiet fishing village with beautiful sceneries, historical monuments, and a culture of its own.5 This may be illustrated by the government plan to “revitalize Tai O” and the reactions to it. The plan is to “preserve” the uniqueness of Tai O and develop it into a tourism spot. With this idea in mind, the government consulted its advisors and in around 2000 released a report which recommended building a folk museum, sheltered anchorage etc.6 Others may have objected to various aspects of the plan, but the general idea of Tai O as a place of special character suitable for tourism is shared by almost all outside parties and some of the most vocal locals. Similarly widely shared is that idea of Tai O’s quietness and peacefulness. One manifestation is that representatives of the Hong Kong Youth Hostels Association said that, in order to keep Tai O as quiet and as peaceful as before, their plan of building youth hostels in Tai O will exclude facilities for archery or mahjong.7 Among features of Tai O’s “unique culture,” most well known are stilt houses, fishing, salted fish, and shrimp paste — above all the stilt house, which became much more widely known after a fire that destroyed many in 2000. After the disaster Tai O residents (and some former residents) organized to protest against government opposition to their intention to rebuild the structures. When the chief executive came to visit, five hundred people gathered and protested in front of him. They urged the government to recognize their ownership of their stilt houses and let them rebuild the ones destroyed by the fire.8 The sequence of events drew considerable outside attention to Tai O, and the stilt houses have been a major focus. While the need for a home and attachments to one’s long-time residence is part of the debates surrounding the rebuilding of the stilt houses, outside interest in those structures often focus on cultural authenticity. Some time after the fire, the government came up with a plan that involves demolishing two-thirds of the stilt houses in order to build tourist facilities, and replacing the remaining stilt houses by structures inspired by a Malay example. Tai O resident Chen Ruiming commented that the government had put

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O 369

commercial interest before the residents’ needs. He saw no government intention to find accommodation for the residents whose stilt houses would be demolished.9 Local author Wong Wai King, another Tai O resident and to whom the outside world have been more familiar, added that it is not an act of respect to the local culture if any theme park–style development is implemented in Tai O. That part of her opinion seems to have received more attention than others. Commentators often link the particular kind of architecture to features of society, particularly close relationships among Tai O residents. This idea of solidarity they find in not only individual collective activities10 but inherent features of Tai O. For example, in a television documentary a volunteer who visits and helps the elderly in Tai O says that while the elderly “living alone” in the urban area are really solitary, their counterparts in Tai O have a good relationship with their neighbors. Her evidence is that when elderly people in Tai O are not at home, their neighbors always know where they are.11 However, knowing someone’s whereabouts does not necessarily imply a good relationship. The interpretation seems to reflect a readiness to read solidarity into Tai O and ignore conflicts and ethnic and other divisions. In recent years, Tai O has become associated also with nature and environmental-friendliness. With this idea in mind, the green group Friends of the Earth suggested building a renewable energy education centre in Tai O so as to combine the “green image” with the local culture.12 Environmental friendliness and nature in Tai O are often associated with mangrove. Under a lot of dispute was the mangrove that grew on the large abandoned salt pans. Those were considered to have high ecological value. Not only were there multiple mangroves’ species in that locality but they have become resting places of various animals. 13 The importance of mangroves is recognized by the government, who intended to use the abandoned salt pans (in ruins) for other purposes and plant mangroves in another part of Tai O. Some green groups and some Tai O residents opposed the government’s plan of “relocating” the mangroves. One says that natural environment is always better than a man-made one.14 Implicit in the argument is a tendency to see the environment as separate from active human intervention, even when the place in question — abandoned salt pans — could not be understood without taking into account earlier reclamation and economic changes that led to the abandonment of production facilities. Such a tendency can hardly be found in a proposal Tai O organizations submitted to the government in 1985, requesting, among other things, construction of sports grounds on the site of the abandoned salt pans. 15 Beside the rise of environmental awareness, the “nature” perspective reflects a perception of rural places like Tai O that marginalizes time and history.

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Despite essentialized images of “Tai O people,” there are different ethnic groups in Tai O. The place name itself is polysemous as it may refer to the few commercial streets, the fishing community, a larger unit including the surrounding villages, and even the much larger area represented by the “Tai O Rural Committee,” an officially recognized local political body. Scholars have studied certain aspects of both the land community and the fishing population.16 The land population is the main focus of Hayes’s study of early twentieth century Tai O, whom he describes as “mainly Cantonese, from the Hsin-an and Tung-kuan districts.” Hayes also notes that there were “in addition, several hundred villagers, mostly Hakkas, in the four small farming hamlets of Leung Uk, San Tsuen, Wang Hang, and Nam Chung.”17 The fishing population in Tai O can be defined as “the fishermen who lived on their boats or in stilt-house along the watercourses [who] were considered as clearly separate from the land community …” Liu and Cheung refer to the continued importance of the divide between the land and “fishing” populations, who more recently, competed in a District Board councillor election. The two authors also observe that the fishermen can be further divided into smaller groups such as those who practiced gill-netting, encircling net fishing, and shrimp-boat fishing.18 Some differentiations have cultural dimensions. For example, an earlier study finds that women in the Pa Teng and Ha Kau (sic) groups only help on board and would not row passenger sampans, a role outsiders often associated with women in such communities.19 There has been a big gap between the rich and poor in the fishing community, and mechanization has enlarged the gap. According to a 1960 study, … gill netting and mechanization of vessels … Have raised the standard of both quality and quantity of catches, and brought prosperity to the well-to-do minority while the majority contest for a better position by improving their fishing equipage whenever they can afford. … That most of the people are being financially handicapped is evident. Only 62 vessels out of the 470 vessels registered are mechanized.20

The internal divisions in Tai O sometimes reveal themselves in open conflict. Among the fishing population, a group of shrimp-boat fishermen were excluded from the fishing grounds and during festival activities by other fishermen because the gill-netters considered them troublemakers.21 Another separate group was salt workers, who were said to be Hoklo. Some of them had longstanding connection with Tai O. One of Hayes’s informants “had been a salt worker all his life, as had his father before him, and had joined him at the Tai O pans about 1909.”22 Salt production stopped decades ago. But some of the workers lived in a small “village” near the

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O 371

Main Seawall and some newcomers not connected with salt production joined them after World War II.23 In recent years there has been a tendency to see the fishing folks of Tai O in terms of continuity, e.g. “a thousand years” used by one author. Some have traced fishermen as an ethnic group or their occupation of Tai O or the Lantau Island in general to many centuries ago. More emphasis has been put on historical documents that might be interpreted to say that the group inhabited Tai O since Song dynasty. But local accounts relate that some inhabitants came from Shenzhen, Dongguang, Baoan, Huizhou etc. as farmers and fishermen and lived in today’s Fan Kwai Tong Tsuen, Leung Uk Tsuen, and Wang Hang Tsuen.24 Wong Wai King’s family was based in Bao’an and had relatives in the Tai O area. After coming to Hong Kong in 1948 fleeing from the communists, the family initially settled in Wanchai, near some relatives. Then they experienced financial difficulties and moved to Tai O considering that it was possible to make a living there. Some such newcomers settled on the main streets and started businesses. Others settled near the hillside, opened land and farmed. Wong’s family initially lived on the main street but soon after moved to the salt workers’ Yin Tin Pok village so they did not have to pay the rather expensive rent. It is said that the original houses were thatched and built as accommodation (perhaps just for breaks?) for the salt pan workers. The structures were replaced by wooden huts after the 1950s. Wong’s family was given the site by a relative’s friend who was moving out to a new house in the nearby Nam Chung village. Wong’s father rebuilt the house, “doing part of the work himself,” before moving in. The case suggests that although people who moved in often had pre-existing kinship links with some Tai O residents, their eventual distribution in parts of Tai O was rather chancy and they had links with relatives in other parts of Hong Kong. In the more recent past, the later comers were not only land people. Nor has the boundary between the latter and the fishing population been impermeable. Some of the current Tai O residents are originally farmers from the Pearl River Delta area. Liu has found that the “Open Door Policy” gave the Zhujiang Delta farmers a chance to change their hukou household registration classification to “fishermen” so that they could come to Hong Kong, and some of them settled in Tai O and became fishermen there.25 These farmers mostly came from Dongguang, Baoan, Nantou, Zhongshan, Hoi Fung, Shanwei, Shiqi, Huidong, Guangxi, Yunfu etc.26 Portraying Tai O as a unified community also obscures the plight of individuals who were marginal even among people of the same cultural background. Wong Wai King has described two such individuals, whose stories testify to the need for intervention in what is often perceived as a

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harmonious village. One of the two was a middle-aged mentally disabled woman, the subject of cruel jokes and at least at one time the victim of brutality. She was beaten along with her son because of a small fire that resulted from his playing with matches. The indifference of onlookers in the incident described by Wong casts serious doubt on the rosy picture of Tai O as a community.27 Another woman described by Wong was born dumb and suffered other disabilities after an accident. After the death of her mother and especially her brother she was blamed for the family’s misfortune. She was eventually expelled by her sister-in-law. With Wong’s help, she was admitted to a local home for the elderly, but even there she was ostracized by some fellow residents and staff members because of the noise she made when she tried to speak. She had to be transferred to a facility elsewhere in Hong Kong and died there soon afterwards.28 Gender inequality is obviously a factor to the two individuals’ circumstances.29 In their boats the fishing population in Tai O could travel easily beyond Tai O itself for fishing and other economic activities. Traveling on water allowed them to maintain business ties, kinship, and friendship outside Tai O. Modernized boats and improved sailing equipment further enhanced such mobility and connections outside the immediate locality.30 In the early twentieth century, Tai O had a close relationship with mainland China, especially the Zhujiang Delta area as Tai O is situated at the mouth of the Pearl River. In the 1940s and 1950s, people moved comparatively freely between Hong Kong and mainland China. Ships from Fujian or Chaoshan stopped by Tai O for replenishment. Also, some ships from Shunde or Zhongshan traded with people in Tai O and the Lantau Island. Hence, at that time, it is usual for men from Tai O to go to Macau or Zhujiang Delta area to find their brides.31 Thus the resulting kinship networks span rather widely. During World War II, the connection between Tai O and mainland China remained vital if not exploited further. The mobility over sea makes Tai O an important place in such periods. Under Japanese occupation land transport was being cut off but it was not the case for sea transport. Hence, Tai O became the traffic junction between Hong Kong and Guangdong.32 During the Korean War, China had a huge demand in military supplies. Again, Tai O took an active role in sea transportation.33 In 1981, some fishermen held fishing licenses from mainland China and the fishing vessel owners among them maintain formal relationship with the relevant mainland authorities.34 Since early in the twentieth century Tai O had significant external connections with other parts of the world as well.35 In the 1930s, many Tai O residents were recruited to work in Australian sub-colonies such as Nauru and Ocean Island in the Pacific as indentured miners. Also, about a dozen Tai O residents went to the island of Borneo or Muntok to work in the

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O 373

same capacity.36 Somewhat later, some Tai O residents went to Fiji as indentured laborers. Sometimes links with such places of sojourn developed: some Tai O people exported fishing nets to Fiji and helped Fiji to develop its fishing industry. In more recent decades Tai O continued to develop external connections with other parts of the world. Some Tai O residents are employed to work in Bangladesh in fishing and manufacturing of salted fish. The products are transported to Tai O for final processing before being released into the market.37 Just as its images as a homogenous community close-in on itself is misleading, Tai O being a quiet place is very much an artifact of its depopulation in recent decades and the reflection of outsiders’ expectations. As an anthropology student conducting fieldwork in Tai O comments in the mid-1980s, Cantonese opera performances during religious celebrations were meant to create a bustling atmosphere, a good omen of prosperity.38 At the same time, in surveys conducted in 1981, a significant portion of the local population said they were bothered by such events as well as the mahjong-playing of their neighbors.

Changing Conditions in the Early 1980s Fishing has been in decline in Tai O since the 1950s, due partly to the silting of the harbor.39 Some families moved to Castle Peak Bay where the fishing port was in much better condition.40 Tai O’s in-between location in the eyes of the government might have been another factor to its decline as a fishing port, as Liu suggested: before 1997, the coastal waters of Tai O belonged to China, and for this reason the Hong Kong government was reluctant to build a sheltered anchorage in Tai O.41 Over-fishing that resulted from mechanization, and the end of salt production due to competition from mainland China are also named as important factors to the decline of fishing.42 In the 1960s, Tai O had other employment opportunities than fishing, its supporting industries, and farming. According to Wong Wai King, many light industry factories (e.g. light bulb making) were established in Tai O; but in the 1970s, these factories started to close down, and the trend was more obvious in the 1980s. By 1981, when a relatively extensive study of local conditions was conducted by two social work students for the YWCA community development unit in Tai O, factories there were employing only about two hundred workers. The authors of the study considered it necessary to develop industry, and they expressed disappointment at the government’s priorities: it offered abandoned salt pans and other vacant land for use as a fish pond instead of industrial development. Out working reportedly became very significant around 1980.43 But its part in Tai O’s

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economy was probably short-lived anyway. Soon enough, it became too late to reverse the decline of small factories in Tai O, when industrial activities in Hong Kong suffered as a result of increased economic integration with mainland China since the 1980s. In fact a large portion of Tai O people began to work in the urban areas in the 1960s. They had to live outside of the community because commuting was very difficult. Not until the late 1950s were many parts of Lautau connected by motor roads, built by the government to facilitate the construction of a reservoir on the island. Gradually the roads reached a place about four kilometers from Tai O and by 1971 Tai O itself, allowing a direct bus service between Mui Wo and Tai O.44 Although Tai O’s public sea transport links to Sheung Wan of urban Hong Kong started early, the service was probably too slow and too infrequent for commuting.45 In 1981 local travelers to Hong Kong preferred traveling by bus to Mui Wo and then by ferry to Central. But the trip was expensive and took a long time.46 Census information from 1961 to 1971 indicates very significant emigration.47 Table 1 Census information for Tai O, 1961 and 1971 1961

1971

Age

Male

Female

Total

Male

Female

Total

0–9 10–19 20–29 30–59 60 & over

1269 594 646 1671 227

1286 658 988 1002 492

2555 1252 1634 2673 719

946 875 160 886 356

985 751 241 1109 849

1931 1626 401 1995 1205

Total

4407

4426

8833

3223

3935

7158

The numbers show very significant population outflow from 1961 to 1971 and the decade before. Forty-one percent of the 1961 population was gone by 1971, partly replenished by those born in the decade. Those 10 to 19 years old in 1961 show the largest decrease by 68%, those 0 to 9 years old in the same year by 36%, those 20 and over probably by about the same percentage, which group being likely to be influenced more by mortality. There is clearly a gender factor in the population change, reflecting the tendency for emigrating males to leave their family behind. That pattern probably started before 1961, when the sex ratio for those 20 to 29 years old was 1514. But the gender difference in population change was much reduced for the groups aged 10 to 19 in 1961 (73% and 63%) and among those younger there were more female than male emigration (31% for male and 42% for female). The contrast probably reflects in part differences in migration ages and marriage ages.

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Migration did not solve all of Tai O’s problems. In fact some residents had difficulties getting employed outside and many left behind were affected negatively. Fathers and grown up children commonly stayed in urban Hong Kong, coming back only on special days. Some young children were sent back by emigrated parents or relatives in Castle Peak Bay to be taken care of in Tai O (Du and Zhang, pp. 35–37). Most elderly people stayed because few residents emigrate to urban Hong Kong as families. Already in 1981, in both “street” and “shed” neighborhoods in Tai O, elderly people living on their own were found …, some with children living in [urban] Hong Kong, some lost family members or lost contact with them.

Luckily the elderly “lived among familiar neighbors, who sometimes assisted them in daily life” (ibid. p. 43). But their difficulties were only partially alleviated by close neighborhood relations. Dependents left behind in Tai O relied on unstable remittances from emigrated family members who themselves had to cope with higher expenditures in the city, including accommodation costs (ibid. p. 82.). The situation was not easy for many young adults either. Given the high rents, some emigrants in the city stayed with relatives. Wong Wai King remembers that in the early 1970s she worked in Cheung Sha Wan as a child laborer in an ironware factory and later in a garment factory, and she could have done that only because she could live in her aunt’s home in the area.48 In an interview, she says it was also common for several young women from Tai O to share a rented bedroom when they lived in the city. However, researchers found in 1981 that middle school graduates who had no family members in the city faced considerable difficulties when they tried to move there to work or to study, and as a result many were “forced to stay in Tai O” (ibid. pp. 93, 97). As will be shown below, the younger cohorts in the 1990s probably found it easier to move out and many of those younger emigrants later approached Tai O from a very different perspective, yet in the same period the difficulties faced by the elderly left behind were not reduced but perhaps further aggravated by depopulation. Besides providing valuable information on Tai O, these and earlier reports cited above can also be used as a baseline of the changing perspectives among relevant groups and professionals. A few years before the 1981 report, members of a volunteer youth group that visited Tai O were not impressed by the stilt houses. Their perception is that the wooden poles rot as time passes, and the hygienic conditions were bad. They considered it necessary to destroy the stilt houses and move the residents to special public housing for fishing folks. The same authors also

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recommended dredging the creek in order to allow large vessels to pass, so that the latter do not have to anchor in other fishing ports like Sau Ki Wan and Cheung Chau.49 The two social work students who conducted the much more extensive study of 1981 similarly showed little tendency to romanticize Tai O. They comment on the rubbish and human excrement under stilt houses, in due course washed away by sea water but until that happens emitted stinking odors in hot weather. They have more confidence in the poles than their predecessors, but observe that the stilt houses’ width is regulated by the government so an owner would build his shed longer (stretching more over water) if he can afford the construction expenses. That is, some aspects of the architecture were determined by government policy and not indigenous tradition (Du and Zhang, pp. 99–102).50 The two authors were not impressed by local culture either. They consider the locals unable to distinguish between idolatry and religion, or the worship of ancestors and the worship of gods. They seemed untouched and skeptical when they report that an elderly woman they visited recognized that one of them was suffering from a cold, and offered an herbal cure.51 While improvements to local conditions by introducing changes continued to be concerns of various parties around 1985 and after, that period was to see the rise of interest in Tai O culture among social workers and outsiders who joined the tours organized by them. The extended study cited above and some later surveys were carried out by or for a social work agency’s community development unit established in 1978 in connection with a government plan to “clear” some of the stilt houses and move the residents into public housing.52 There was an earlier plan to build public housing for 3,100 people in Tai O (p. 104). A first batch of units was built but the plan was put on hold soon after. The flats were used to re-house those whose stilt houses were “cleared” for the construction of a waste water treatment system, which was not carried out in response to local demands and was thought to have been undertaken for some undisclosed development plans (p. 115). It was an established practice of the government to fund social workers to help “handle” the reactions of residents to clearance and relocation, but social workers often take on roles broader than and sometimes contrary to their assigned “mission.” They cooperated with some local organizations and individuals to assess needs, and to request government and outside funding and expert services. For these reasons, the report covers local social and political organization in some detail. It mentions “voluntary organizations” in Tai O, including two churches and church-organized schools. It also mentions several other organizations. Among those, the Rural Committee was given semi-official recognition by the government (p. 119). According to the report, the body was dominated by people over fifty years old, mostly businessmen.

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Later sources indicate that until 1994 the Committee was not directly elected and had no female members (Wong, p. 46). Also important was the Fisherfolk’s Mutual Aid Association. The fishing folk displays more solidarity and identifies more with (rentong, approves more) the association (Du et al, op. cit., p. 52). The latter cooperated with the social workers in a health survey. However, the association was among two the government was suspicious of having a “left-wing political background” and was watched closely by the government’s “political branch” (p. 121). A much more recent local organization, not mentioned by the report, was the Tai O Youth Club (Xieqing She) formed by some local youths in 1975 (Wong, p. 56), which probably included few women. Also omitted was the Salt Worker’s Union, which according to another source ceased to exist by 1981.53 It would seem that the salt workers were no longer represented by any organization after that. The report mentions examples of how local voices were marginalized by the Rural Committee and the government’s district office, how the social workers’ initiatives to assess local needs and opinions were unable to obtain the support of either initially, and that such support came after the social workers used media coverage to arouse awareness of the issue among Hong Kong’s general public. The strategy was shared by many other social workers who served as community organizers. As a study of social movements of the period in Hong Kong points out, one important role of those organizers is to plan effective actions that would attract media attention and embarrass the government.54 The predicaments and strategies described in the report manifest themselves in later developments that linked Tai O’s future with its images among Hong Kong’s general public.

Tourism for Community Development In 1984 or 1985, a social worker of the YWCA unit in Tai O started with some younger locals the Tai O Economic Development Project, which concentrated on tourism. He notes in a later publication that Hong Kong social workers’ community work seldom includes economic improvement as a major component. Although they sometimes initiate cooperatives, those concentrate on consumption and savings. So the Tai O project is unusual in its income generation focus. According to the social worker, in the beginning of the Tai O project other possibilities than tourism had been explored. Those named in his report were all agricultural: chicken farming, fish farming, and mushroom farming. Eventually tourism was chosen because of the low technical and real estate requirements and the free availability of “beautiful scenery, special

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cultural features of a fishing village,” and what might be translated as “water country style.”55 The organizers were aware of the need to introduce new elements in order to attract tourists. A later study by the social worker, published in 1994, mentions as a concern among the members the need to “preserve Tai O’s original [yuanxi] (nice) appearance” (by building a museum) which they think is likely to disappear because of the construction of public housing, sheltered anchorage, and transportation facilities. But that concern is presented mainly as an issue of resources for tourism rather than cultural conservation or survival. The team organized media appearances and exhibitions, the latter having been “attended by more than 5,000” by 1989. The services provided to visitors include “introducing Tai O using videos and slides, renting stilt houses, booking inexpensive holiday homes, planning sampan tours, and selling souvenirs,” and “experience life in the fishing village Tai O” packages whose durations ranged from one to three days, as well as arrangements for special activities such as home visits and fishing trips. The “experience” package seems to be particularly popular with community service organizations, many of which “became long-term customers” of the service (Zhu, 1989 ed., pp. 194–195). It is acknowledged that the project has not been successful in “grassroots mobilization,” partly because most local residents did not see tourism as a solution to economic decline in the community. Thus the project, despite the social worker’s emphasis on its local roots, may not have received wide support in Tai O. While the project did not generate much income or engage many local residents, it had made some important impact. The study sees as its biggest success in “showing to a vast number of the urban public Tai O’s development, history, appearance [fengmao], and community problems, and thus arousing their awareness and care.” It is important to identify what kind of tourist activities were involved, and distinctions such as John Urry’s romantic versus collective tourist gaze might be relevant here.56 However, it is important not to treat the two kinds of tourism dichotomously, as the collective varieties might be constructed with the help of images associated with the romantic experiences. Information on the organized tours is very limited at this writing. A 1990 TV documentary has included the opening remark of an instructor of the “Tai O Fishing Village Experience Camp.” Tai O is part of Lantau Island. Once you arrive at the pier you notice the nice smell of shrimp paste. Reaching the town, you will see that all households open their doors. These are not what you would see in urban Hong Kong. The life of Tai O residents is quiet and calm. This camp is to let young people today experience Hong Kong’s old unique culture.57

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It is difficult to see that local needs were made a feature of the tourist activities. This is not inconsistent with the social worker’s emphasis in his account that the project takes a “soft approach” in involving both locals and visitors. Increased outside interest in Tai O based on scenery and “history” had mixed consequences, because these elements do not always coincide with local needs. The relevance of Dean MacCannell’s comments on ethnictourism is obvious. What is happening … is a conversion of simple social virtues, of an idea of “village life” into something to see. The village is not destroyed, but its function shifts from the base of social relations in the local community to an interesting detail in the recreational experience of a tourist from out of town. … When the touristic definition of an ethnic group of community prevails, the group is frozen in an image of itself, or museumized. The group becomes a thing, and that is exactly what people are not.58

MacCannell’s observations on Locke is not totally off the mark for Tai O’s fisherfolks given their marginality in society. They are old and limited in resources and power, and they have no big buildings, machines, monuments or natural wonders to deflect the tourists’ attention away from the intimate details of their daily lives.59

Such impacts are to some extent evident in Tai O, especially on the rather long Sun Kay (“New Embankment”) Bridge, which is known to many tourists. It was an interesting spot to them not because its construction was funded and supervised by locals in the late 1970s using some elements of technology borrowed from the stilt houses but because it offers space from where life inside the nearby stilt houses could be seen and photographed. The author of this chapter participated in a field trip organized for secondary school teachers held by The University of Hong Kong’s Centre of Asian Studies. One of his colleagues videotaped local children walking near the “New Embankment” bridge. Probably because of the resentment against unwanted attention from many tourists, a young girl among them expressed her displeasure saying what might be translated as “If you want to tape so badly, why don’t you go tape some carton boxes.” If that kind of intrusion did not become more intolerable in Tai O, it is partly because many tourists either were not interested in “authenticity” or had a more casual approach to “real” experience. One account of Tai O written by a school teacher in Hong Kong in 1998 offers interesting details. He starts his description with a reference to the local television drama

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series A Place of One’s Own (the Chinese title of which is “The Sky of Tai O”) broadcasted early in the year. The travel account refers to the rock that looks like a military man visible from Tai O, a sampan woman who claims that an actress in the TV drama borrowed her vessel as well as her name, and the shrimp paste factory which is a major character’s home in the soap opera. “Now there are these modern topics, a trip to Tai O is not just about pungent shrimp paste, salted fish and stilt houses.” Besides those attractions, the travel account mentions the pier as a good angling site with nice views and the adjacent police station no longer in use; a market for cheap produce and meat transported from mainland China on mainland vessels; a souvenir shop; shopping for salted fish, bonsai and vegetable, and pastries. 60 However, the account did follow some of the discursive conventions reviewed above. It places in its very beginning a picture of the “only drawbridge in Hong Kong,” and refers to the fact this unique feature replaced the unique rope-driven ferry of earlier years. Therefore, while uniqueness and authenticity are not necessarily the focus of the attention to all, they could still be crucial elements in visitors’ approach to Tai O. The difference of Tai O is often paradoxically linked to its ability to represent Hong Kong. To many, Tai O represents the promise of experiences of Hong Kong’s past. For example, a newspaper article on another interview with the head of Friends of the Earth in 2000 reports, “Tai O is a microcosm of Hong Kong. When tourists visit Tai O, they are virtually reviewing the history of Hong Kong.” The reporter concurs, “[she] hit the nail on the head.” The title of the article, referring to the government plan of “Revitalization of Tai O,” says “Fear that the Water Country Charm Will Be No More.”61 Clearly, to the environmentalist or the journalist, Tai O represents Hong Kong’s past as a fishing village, and a changed Tai O, whatever its consequences for the locals, will be detrimental to its “historical” role. The stories behind the ferry used to cross Tai O Creek, remembered by many visitors as a hallmark of Tai O, can illustrate this point. “In the past, it attracted many tourists to ride and take photographs of it” (Wong, p. 86). The ferry was unusual in Hong Kong because the crossing was so short (80 feet) (p. 136) it could have been replaced by a bridge. Another unique feature of the ferry was that it was driven by pulling a rope across the creek, instead of a motor or oars. There is some uncertainty about when the service was started.62 The ferry was until the 1950s driven with a pole. The use of the rope might not have been convenient in earlier decades because the creek was also used by fishing vessels. To allow the latter to pass through the crossing point, the rope had to be moved out of the way, by sinking one end into water. It is remembered that occasionally the rope had not sunk low enough and as a result got tangled up with a vessel passing

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through (Wong, p. 86). Therefore, the rope was probably not introduced until the traffic of fishing vessels in the creek had been considerably reduced. The end of the rope-driven ferry was envisaged quite soon after. It is remembered that the ferry sunk twice because of overloading in the 1960s (p. 136). That may be among the reasons why some residents had wanted it replaced by a bridge. In 1976, it was reported that two year earlier, there was a local proposal to the government that a bridge be built to replace it, but “residents” opposed strongly, saying that a bridge will seriously restrict vessels moving in and out of the creek.63 A slightly later study mentions that in 1979 there was another proposal to build a bridge because the ferry implied not only a significant expense to pedestrians and especially those hauling goods across but also inconvenience or hazard to the old and frail.64 The authors of the study claim that the Rural Committee, who assigned the contract to run the ferry for a fee, refused to adopt the proposal, “to the considerable dissatisfaction of the residents.” Rumors of extra charges to visitors and residents are said to have raised concern again in 1981 (Du and Zhang, p. 116). It was said that the Rural Committee opposed the proposal because it was reluctant to raise the money for the project and preferred to continue to receive half of the fare receipts (p. 116). Residents’ response to the proposal was covered by a survey organized by social workers in 1981, who found that close to 90% of the respondents supported the proposal, and those opposed mentioned obstacle to vessels (less than 3%) and preservation of “local color” (less than 1%) as their considerations.65 Wong Wai King, who was a member of the Rural Community for a few years, wrote in her book that the passage of fishing vessels was a major consideration delaying the materialization of a wish for a bridge Tai O “residents had always held.” In fact, a TV report in 1989 anticipated a footbridge to be completed in 1993, and Wong appears in it talking about the urgent need for one given the ageing population, especially in medical emergencies during the night. The plan was coordinated with the anchorage project.66 It was delayed because the anchorage plan was stalled. A bridge was eventually built between 1995 and 1996 thanks to, according to Wong, a large increase in the number of tourists visiting Tai O after the opening of the new Giant Buddha at nearby Po Lin monastery (at the end of 1993), because the ferry could not handle the traffic (Wong, p. 136). The link was built in the form of a drawbridge, which could be raised to allow fishing vessels to pass. The feature explains the very high cost of 15 million dollars, paid for by the government, as Wong rather implicitly acknowledged (p. 68). In this context, it is remarkable that the English portion of Wong’s account of the bridge put the reason behind the delays in building the bridge differently, probably reflecting the translator’s misreading based on a tourist perspective:

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Building a footbridge to replace the hand-pulled ferry had all along been a controversial issue in Tai O, mostly because neither villagers nor tourists wished to give up the village’s picturesque characteristics. (Wong, p. 137)

Thus the need to consider the claims of those who want to keep the creek open for fishing and hauling vessels, which entails either not building a bridge at all or building a much more expensive drawbridge, and the power and interest of the Rural Committee, have been substituted by the wish to keep the place “picturesque.” 67 The same perspective can be identified in a web comment written in response to a webpage on Tai O: It is ridiculous to get rid of the crossing ferry. The ferry is part of Tai O. Getting rid of it is like pulling down all the stilt houses.68

The case of the ferry illustrates the discrepancy between the perspectives of tourists who “would rather pay for a ride than use a bridge” and those who have to cross daily, often for practical purposes. The unique and “archaic” facility attracted tourists and inconvenienced many locals, the great majority of whom did not hesitate to support a proposal to replace it with a bridge. That does not mean the locals are not divided, but they were divided not along the line between the “picturesque” and the “practical” but between different practical needs and political and economic interests. The need to make it a drawbridge implied a very large expense formidably difficult to fund, which clearly contributed to the long delay. But it is important to note that in reality, increased tourist traffic helped justify the very large expenditure for the government. While the safety of visitors might be crucial to the funding of the project, the design also accommodated some local demands. As well, there is no indication that the “scenic” appeal was invoked by or for tourists to delay it. However, the potential for such consequences of tourist interests is always there. If the story of the drawbridge could serve to show the relevance of MacCannell’s model and at the same time to caution against its simplistic application, another aspect of the Tai O case is quite contrary to his inferences. He argues that the “tourist’s experience … rests on a social relationship between tourists and locals which is fleeting and superficial” and unequal, and that kind of relationship “can be primary breeding ground for deceit, exploitation, mistrust, dishonesty and stereotype formation.”69 While “stereotype formation” seems commonplace in the case of Tai O, “a long-term relationship based on mutual trust and respect” did arise and it has had ample impact. Wong Wai King was one of the most active participants of the Tai O tourism project and she developed some of those positive relationships in connection with the project. Among the friends she made was Lee Wai Yee,

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a university student in Hong Kong at the time and later a leader of the Association for the Advancement of Feminism, an editor and author of books and newspaper columns. In 1993 Lee chanced upon a shop operated by the tourism project, met Wong there and became a good friend of hers after many visits in which she got to know Wong’s personal experiences and her work as a keen volunteer with “bed-ridden elderly people and locked-up mental handicapped” in Tai O.70 Lee had been a crucial supporter of Wong’s in many of the events described in the following pages. Another important character in those events is a Mrs Mak, coordinator of civic education for the government-funded Vocational Institutes, who in 1993 helped enlist more than 100 students and teachers from the Institutes to help repair Tai O’s main seawall at Wong’s request. The circumstance of Wong’s acquaintance with Mak has not been described clearly but it is highly likely that the tourism project provided the occasion. The media appearances and exhibitions organized for the tourism project, already mentioned earlier, were probably important training ground for Wong’s skills in dealing with the media.

Community in a Different Sense Around the time the tourism project was launched apparently all major local organizations in Tai O were able to arrive at a consensus on the town’s future. However, not all interests of all residents were taken into account. But some of the latter were able to use the skills, networks and publicity generated outside of Tai O partly through the tourism project to promote alternative visions for the place. In 1985, the Tai O Residents’ Association, “in consultation with” the Rural Committee, prepared and submitted to the government a proposal to “request improvement to local environment.”71 The document stresses Tai O was a major and prosperous town of Lantau, highlighting the downward spiral as people and fishing vessels depart and the deterioration of economic conditions, and asks that the government, and wider public, and Tai O people jointly “save a Tai O from its gradual (continual?) decline” (p. 1). The proposed actions, in their order, are as follows: 1. To repair the main seawall (which was in ruins after a typhoon two years before), important to the safety of residents and fishponds, and a major tourist attraction offering scenic views. 2. To revive the local fishing industry by dredging the creek and building a typhoon shelter or sheltered anchorage and ease the passage of fishing boats, many of which had moved away from Tai O because these had not been done.72

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3.

4. 5. 6.

To improve the transportation system, including links between villages in the district and especially with Hong Kong Island, and to improve local employment and stop depopulation by encouraging external investment and assist development of tourist and industrial facilities. To provide education and recreational facilities to satisfy the needs of local youth. To build sports grounds on a disused salt pan for the use of locals and tourists. To implement the various planned welfare projects and environmental improvements.

According to details mentioned by Wong Wai King, active negotiation between local leaders and the government took place in 1988, if not earlier: the Rural Committee and other local organizations asked the government to turn the space inside the seawall (an abandoned salt pan) into a shelter anchorage. The plan is clearly a modified version of the local proposal. Wong writes that she actively tried to save the seawall before there was a plan to build the anchorage in an area enclosed by it. Although initially built to protect salt pans, the seawall also offers the community protection against flooding.73 Her account seems to suggest that because of the plan local leaders of the Rural Committee and a district board member refused to endorse her endeavor. She also thinks that the government ignored her requests because it was avoiding a decision between repairing the seawall and building a very expensive sheltered anchorage.74 Wong campaigned for the repair of the seawall enlisting local residents, the press, and other outside contacts. In 1988 or 1989 she managed to get a legislator to endorse a petition, by holding a press conference which brought pressure on him. Apparently for the reason indicated above, the government did not respond to the petition. Meanwhile, in 1989 a typhoon immersed “half of Tai O,” which event drew considerable media attention. At this writing, little is known about what the government did in response. Wong’s description suggests that Yim Tin Pok village, whose entirety was under water during the typhoon, was a part of Tai O that needs more urgent protection from the seawall than others. Around 1992, Wong once again campaigned for the repair of the seawall but did not get much response. In 1993 she enlisted a large number of students at the various government-funded urban Vocational Training Institutes, many of whom probably had been among those who came on tours offered by the Tai O Economic Development Project. The event attracted considerable media attention. Partly because of that, the government reinforced a secondary seawall and relocated villagers still under serious flooding threat in Yim Tin Pok village, which was formerly

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used by Hoklo salt workers, who had later been joined by those including Wong’s post-1949 immigrant family.75 Wong writes that the clearance of the village in 1994 put a full stop to the question of the repair of the seawall (Wong, pp. 120–21). In an interview, Wong told me that the clearance did not meet much objection because there were very few residents, all being elderly people living alone, and the place was threatened by flooding.76 The outside support for Wong’s attempt to save the seawall suggests that where human lives were at stake, personal relationships established through tourism or media images of Tai O as a somewhat exotic place for leisure were assets rather than liabilities. However, the following events suggest those assets are not compatible with other agendas in the community. In between the events described above, the government agreed to the anchorage plan, but announced shelving it in 1992 because the construction of the new airport in Chek Lap Kok would destroy large mangrove areas, and the government intended to plant a comparable acreage of mangrove in Tai O to compensate for the loss. The move meant that the anchorage project might have to be abandoned.77 The anchorage plan, although shelved soon after, explains why Wong had temporarily stopped campaigning for repairs to the seawall. The improvements to the secondary seawall and removal of villages still under serious threat of flooding did not bring an end to conflicting local visions for the seawall. Soon, Wong had a different concern for the structure. In 2000, the government released the study for “Revitalization of Tai O,” including plans to develop tourism and support fishing. Some elements of the plans were known to various parties years earlier. Among those was the removal of many stilt houses in Tai O, which proposals met many objections, partly because the structure was unique and exotic and partly because elderly residents did not wish to leave a familiar, rent-free place among long-time neighbors. As the wording of the planning study is suggestive of rebuilding the stilt houses for display based on foreign designs, it was widely criticized for lacking authenticity. In July 2000, within a few months of the announcement, a fire destroyed a large number of stilt houses, and government treatment of the houses as squatter structures and its ban on rebuilding based on the assumption attracted much criticism. There seems to be a unified opposition against the government on this issue. On the issues of planting mangrove and of building the anchorage, opinions in Tai O were much more divided. One of the two organizations opposing construction of the anchorage, on the ground that it would negatively affect the growth of mangrove, was run by Wong. Those two local organizations and others in Hong Kong opposed the planting of

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mangrove on the site (abandoned salt pans), claiming that the latter already had a rich niche for plants and animals, superior to the artificial mangrove being created. As the planting of mangrove and the building of an anchorage were agreed upon by the government and the Rural Committee as a “trade,” objecting to the former amounts to opposing the latter, although other arguments against the anchorage were also raised. Even in the 1980s, despite their endorsement of the proposal for the anchorage, the social workers in Tai O probably had very different views of the town’s future. In the social worker’s 1987 report on the tourism project he agrees with the proposal in naming the lack of a sheltered anchorage for large displacement vessels first among the factors to the decline of Tai O as a fishing port, but he also puts considerable emphasis on the huge capital investment fishing already required at that time, and the reluctance of younger members in fisherman families to stay in the trade of their fathers. One might infer that building the anchorage is not considered a community good by all partly because fishing is now seen by some as involving only a particular segment of local society. During the early 2000s, similar differences between perspectives on Tai O’s future revealed themselves in widely reported events. Surrounding the construction of the sheltered anchorage, these events took place after Wong published the book of essays and photos entitled Tai O: Love Stories of the Fishing Village in April 2000. The launch of the book was matched by an exhibition on Tai O put together by her and another Tai O local, hosted by the government Antiquities and Monuments Office for several weeks.78 The conflicting views between local groups, one getting more media attention than the other, brought about a widely known confrontation. A local English newspaper entitled its report “Typhoon shelter plan ‘a waste of $270M’” (SCMP 5 May 2001). It quotes Wong claiming, “Just a few fishing boats would use it. Even now, there are only three to four boats anchoring in Tai O. As we all know, Tai O is no longer a real fishing village.” A Chinese newspaper published an interview in which Wong similarly argued against the project.79 Only the English paper cited above covers a legislator’s differing assessment: There are not many fishing vessels in Tai O, but that was because of lack of mooring facilities … When the facilities are there, the vessels, which now anchor elsewhere, will return.

In reaction to the Chinese report, angry members of the Rural Committee and some other locals entered the Tai O Culture Workshop. According to one newspaper, there they verbally abused Wong and attacked her son who came to her rescue.80

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Despite the fact that shared local interest is an essential part of the argument of both sides, Wong seems to have developed a considerably different idea in between these events. The notion of the local as territorial unit with common interests, whatever its validity, is very different from what might be inferred from an interview with Wong in 2004. Local needs requiring government support and investment seem to have disappeared. When asked whether those are an important topic in her guided tours to visitors (which are supposed to be in the tourism project) she suggests that Tai O people are well taken care of.81 In the interview, Wong mentions waste disposal as a concern but sees local attitudes as the main obstacle, which could possibly be overcome by promoting a sense of belonging and awareness of the beauty of Tai O among its younger generation. When asked whether facilities in Tai O are enough, she says, Yes. We have social workers from the Hong Kong Young Women’s Christian Association, a home for the elderly, a library, a youth centre etc. I think that is enough. Also, some organizations would arrange for young people to do volunteer service in Tai O, e.g. helping the elderly to re-paint their houses. I think the elderly are very lucky (xingfu) as enough social services are provided and they have good relationships with their neighbors. All these services started in the 90s. As for the library, it has been in place for nearly 25 years, whereas even Tung Chung [the much more prosperous new town on Lantau] does not have a library now.

Her sense of community itself may reflect a peculiar conception that represents a shift shaped by her experiences in recent years but is far from accidental, as the previous section has shown. When asked to define Tai O (because of its polysemy), Wong replies, I think Tai O belongs to Hong Kong. Even though you do not live in Tai O, you are also a part of Tai O and you can express your opinion on Tai O. As my community work is not making enough progress locally, I think I have to introduce Tai O to others, even the whole world. Tai O belongs to the world, it is a part of the Earth.

Among those others she mentions to me in other parts of the conversation include a “Japanese friend who has come to Tai O twice a year for thirteen years,” and an Australian who came to see Wong having seen her on TV and wanted a photo with her in person to show family back home. It would be very unfair to say that Wong is a purveyor of exotica to the world market. In her book and in her interview there is an emphasis on gender inequality and especially making the most of what is available. But what she says next suggests something very different from the “grassroots mobilization” approach to community:

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I always said that we have to preserve community culture and uniqueness as these are fading away. … The foreign travelers like Tai O as it suits their traveling style which is very real. There is no need to over-decorate, just let the place develop naturally.

It is a new form of attachment to a place that makes it “belong to the world,” a sense of the local that appeals to a much wider audience. This wider audience includes not only urban elites in general but also locals who moved away and their children, to whom Tai O’s meaning as “community” could to a very large extent be associated with leisure and holidays. This somewhat different attachment to Tai O was also articulated by Wong in connection with people who had spent their childhood in Tai O and left it. Only if Tai O’s stilt houses are preserved, as a place for temporary stay, for temple festivals, holidays like mid-Autumn festival and dragon boat festival, or other days off, it makes a big difference if they have a place to stay for those visits. … If there is no such place, then descendants will not return. Therefore, I think stilt houses should be preserved. That would allow the community’s people to continue, to be alive. Let’s say if seven out of ten stilt house families have sons and grandchildren who like Tai O very much, and would come back to do fishing, barbeque, and cycling, only then would the community be sustained and able to continue its life. … For continuity, a place to live is very important, a place for temporary stay.

The juxtaposition of “to live” and “a place for temporary stay” in the end of the quote is no coincidence: for all the emphasis on the real and the authentic, Tai O is for many “locals” mainly a place for leisure and family holidays, however much symbolic and emotional importance is attached to those occasions. The accelerated depopulation of Tai O in the 1980s (more than 70% in five years for some young cohorts) and especially the first half of the 1990s (more than 85% in five years for some young cohorts) indicated by census reports suggests that Tai O’s young people shared the decades’ high level of social mobility in Hong Kong in general at least “spatially.”82 As a result, for many the attachment to Tai O as native place is perhaps more important than as a place to live. Not quite tourists, they are pilgrims rather than residents. They more readily accept long journey than commuters and many are not very concerned about making a living in Tai O. Yet to many others Tai O is more than a place for temporary stay on holidays. Although many younger Tai O emigrants or descendants of emigrants say that Tai O would be a nice place to retire in, an organization serving the elderly there complains that outsourcing medical services proved

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to be very difficult for places like Tai O, as on each work day only about four hours of actual service time remains after the long traveling time. Also, the organization’s “family-based” approach means that the physical distance between elderly residents and family members living outside entails extra difficulties. 83 Therefore, economic opportunity and improved accessibility are important not only to those who ignore the social costs of development.

Showing Tai O The anchorage project was carried out despite oppositions, partly because what takes place was not entirely determined by public debate shaped by Tai O’s images as nature and cultural heritage. But various locals are acutely aware of those images as a major factor to the place’s future. Beside semi-permanent exhibitions and displays, certain events could attract attention from outside. While Tai O’s annual various religious celebrations and the dragon boat races did not seem to attract much of such attention and were not designed for that, in 2002 a wedding was staged to promote tourism. Liu Tik-sang, who has written about the events, points out that young people in Tai O did not want the roles of bride and groom in the performance and those were played by a couple from another part of Lantau. But some older community members were eager to play other roles, such as singing the (male) wedding songs. Thus some older members of the community were keen to display their discontinued tradition. To Liu, such participants’ motives are beyond promoting tourism. Instead, many used the occasion to assert their identity as Tai O people. However, different locals chose to show Tai O in different ways and their impacts also differ dependent partly on how they relate to discursive conventions outside their control. Liu notes that a group of younger men held a dragon boat race during the event. The race was not coordinated with the staged wedding, as Liu’s video footage shows boats moving in the background while dignitaries gave their opening speeches. The young men might be expressing their disagreement with the rural committee, as Liu suggests, but their activity might also be seen as an attempt to show Tai O in a different light. While the “traditional weddings” feature of the main event is of antiquarian interest to the wider audience, dragon boat races are not considered archaic in Hong Kong but a living tradition that demonstrates prowess. Thus it is likely that the dragon race represents a way of showing Tai O based on a different power relationship between those seeing and those seen.84 But it has received much less attention in the rest of Hong Kong.

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Likewise, two exhibitions on Tai O took very different approaches and in this case their receptions are quite incomparable. One of the exhibitions is based at Tai O Culture Workshop run by Wong Wai King. Often described as a museum in more recent years, the place opened around July 2001. 85 Initially funded by an international foundation,86 the place has received considerable media attention. In about two years, when the museum was investigated for possession of a whale bone, the place had been visited by 140,000 people according to one source.87 The incident, which was eventually resolved, no doubt brought much anxiety to Wong and her colleagues and friends. But it also made the place better known because the dispute is quite widely reported, sometimes with hints that the incident took place because of Wong’s opposition to the anchorage project.88 The pre-arranged interview with Wong there in summer 2004 provided first hand experience not only of her helpfulness and candidness but also her popularity with the print and electronic media, each represented by some of her other visitors on the same day. In September 2005, the Tai O Culture Workshop was named among one of the 77 “mustsee” museums worldwide by a Hong Kong magazine. The nominator, a scholar from Lingnan University’s Department of Cultural Studies, reportedly contrasts the museum with many others that are “divorced from people’s lives” because it is located in a home and “is most able to represent local culture.”89 Occupying an old house on Wing On Street, the museum is interesting for many other reasons. Many of the displayed objects, such as the stone mill and pieces of children’s furniture, are quite unusual specimens. Perhaps more impressive is a cluster of objects in a corner in the back of the building in a way that defies attempts to fit into a temporal or classificatory scheme and evokes (at least for the author of this chapter) a sense of similarity and togetherness rather than objects that make up a system of difference. They include a few commonplace earthen utensils of various sizes and shapes, one topped by an old hat made of bamboo strips and another by dried plants in a container made of the same material; several pairs of small faded plastic slippers placed on a number of large seashells; and many Chinese spoons below the slippers and facing different directions. A large number of photographs, most of which are probably from the large collections of two photographers closely associated with Tai O, were also on display. Among the two, photographer-journalist Chan Chik was known for works like “Old Man Living on the Fishing Boat,” which have a tendency to highlight misery and suffering than the idyll of country life. One telling example of his work, probably not used at the mini-museum, shows a smiling child playing with a lantern, but the caption reads, “Kids here had

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O 391

little fun except on festive occasions ...”90 Similarly, among pictures of Tai O shown at the Workshop, six have been reproduced in a set of postcards for sale, and the one showing situation at low-tide taken by Chan is given prominence there as well as in Wong’s book. His own message might be more similar to the lantern picture, as the exposed mud prominent in another “water country” photo of his bears a caption that says “A muddy cesspool at Nam San Wai when the tide is on ebb,” with the Chinese version featuring the word wuzhuo, making sure that “dirty” and “filthy” is meant.91 But in Wong’s book the photo is given a Chinese caption of “appearances of stilthouses in the early 1950s and the situation at low-tide.” It seems that the picture was chosen to show the supporting poles as a feature of stilt houses rather than the misery intended by Chan. The other photographer, Miss Pang Sau-yung, who died before the mini-museum was opened, produced pictures for locals, tourists, and religious pilgrims in the first two post-war decades. Locals needed photographs for license applications, other dealings with the government as well as sending to sojourning family members. It is possible that some of Pang’s photos depicting local conditions were meant for sale to tourists and other visitors as well.92 Some of Pang’s photos record Tai O women carrying visitors on a simple rattan seat on poles, although it is not clear that the exhibition includes the ones showing also the passengers, with features, very different clothing and accessories identifying ethnic and class background.93 Definitely on display are many other photos of locals, some of whom went to the mini-museum to see moments of their own past captured on film. A web article by a member of Videopower, a group of college graduates and students interested in social participation through videos, provides further background and observations of the mini-museum. The place was designed by a professional designer. The author found the place cute, but also compares it to a “cute antique shop” or “the room decorations of a Westerner who likes to travel widely as seen on TV.” The author thinks, like her companion, that the objects were shown without any stories and she conjectures that the stories would be covered by Wong in her tours. These observations, from someone critical and understanding at the same time, corroborate impressions that to most outsiders the displays and postcards provide mainly the familiar idyllic images of stilt houses and other “fishing village” scenery. To a lesser extent, the same kind of emphasis can be seen in Wong’s own book, copies of which are available for sale there, illustrated by photographs from the two collections mentioned above. The account of Tai O is divided into four sections. Section one covers natural environment, settlements and immigration, facilities including schools and volunteer services, followed by “changing lives of fisherfolks” (the longest sub-section),94 major

392 Building Dynamic Cultural Capital in Institutions

past events, holiday activities, weddings and funerals, temples, and finally the author’s attempt to save the seawall. Besides “changing lives of fisherfolks” and the weddings and funerals sub-section, the descriptions did not concentrate on fisherfolks. The much shorter section two is given a heading of “life” in the English part, which covers entertainment and leisure, street life, as well as stilt houses and the ferry. The even shorter section three, with “people” as heading, are biographies of three individuals, among whom one mentally retarded woman was most probably the only fisherfolk given that kind of treatment, despite the reference to the “fishing village” in the book’s English title.95 The slightly longer final section is on the author’s own experiences, starting with her child labor years but are otherwise about outdoor fun and love of nature especially in her younger years. Tai O as a whole is the focus, and ethnic boundaries have not been discussed in any length. The fisherfolks provide a large part of the “local color.” In total, fisherfolks occupy only slightly more than 10% of the book. The preservation of “local color,” together with “nature,” is advocated near the end of the book, if also implied in many other pages. The messages and receptions of another exhibition of Tai O are very different. Hosted initially at the Rural Committee building since summer 2000, funded by the District Council on a temporary basis, it has received much less attention. It was briefly mentioned by a newspaper’s summer travel guide in 2002 along with the Tai O Culture Workshop.96 The author of this chapter visited the exhibition in the old venue in summer 2002 on a field trip with others from a seminar series for secondary school teachers. A local fisherman leader gave an oral presentation trying to win outsider understanding of their plight in trying to get the anchorage project and other improvements implemented. In November 2004, the exhibition became a regular one and it has been relocated to the ground floor of a building near the entrance to Tai O. The building was probably built within recent decades, with an emphasis on function rather than style and carries little outside decorations. The room has an area of about one thousand square feet and the ceiling is furnished with individual ceiling tiles found in most offices in Hong Kong. Wedding dresses and accessories used in weddings are displayed in front of photographs apparently from the staged wedding of 2002. Next to those are two young-looking mannequins wearing what are supposed to be male and female fisherfolk clothing, without shoes and a baby carrier on the back of the woman character. While there are shelves of items from domestic life such as oil lamps and consumer electronics from the 1960s, very prominently displayed are many varieties of farming and fishing tools. A number of miniature boats are shown, including the model of a leisure angling boat intended for tourism as well as a fishing boat described as “new style” in the label. Besides the more remote and

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O 393

generalized past, the exhibition also shows a copy of the 1985 “request for improvement to local environment,” as well as the new anchorage being built. Many photos are in color. Conservation is the theme of two or three photos, calling attention to the need to protect a site connected with salt production from fast-growing grass. Because of the location of the venue, the exhibition is probably visited by the most tourists. Yet it has received almost no media attention.97 This is obviously partly due to the fact that to those who wants to present Tai O as a “cultured” place in the past, the much newer and rather plain venue is not very attractive.98 The inclusion of coverage of the new anchorage project, petition of 1985, and the models of new-style vessels suggest that the organizers have no intention of trying to create an “authentic” image “from the past.” The exhibition also features items from a local collector of objects from outside of Tai O. A fishermanturned-baker, he styled his store “Tokyo” and decorated it with the seven dwarfs and a Snow White given to him by a foreigner who responded to a sign he put up requesting one. The items he presented to the exhibition might be of antiquarian interest but not local, including coins from direct periods and regions of China. The very different reception of the Culture Workshop and Rural Committee exhibitions suggests that these voices on Tai O were not given much opportunity to reach wider Hong Kong society through the media interested in presenting Tai O as antiquated and obsessed with its own culture. Noticed by fewer visitors but noteworthy is a display put up on the windows of a shop space on the main street of Tai O by a key member of the Tai O Youth Club. The cross-ethnic local organization was active up to at least the 1990s and its activities included providing tutorial services to local children. It published an occasional pamphlet in 1986 and periodicals on the community around 1995 but seems to have made very limited outside impact,99 and was among those who responded to the government plan of 2000 by submitting an opinion on the “Revitalization” plan100 but probably has become quite inactive after that. However, a piece of writing by Liu Kin Sang dated 1 September 2001 is displayed, together with two photos of a very large fish caught by local fishermen, on the ground floor of a building on Tai O’s main street, putting forth views on Tai O rarely seen in published writing. While reporting that one stilt house resident in Tai O held a document stating that his family lived there in 1880 and naming various benefits to the style of housing, Liu argues stilt houses cannot cope with new (e.g. non-bio-degradable) varieties of waste and improvements to relevant facilities are badly needed. It also refers to the hereditary discrimination suffered by the fishermen in imperial times as well as their marginalization by the colonial government because of their close links to mainland China. Liu also takes environmentalist groups to task, arguing

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that their “extremist” comments have hurt the Tai O area; allegedly they are against the appearance of traces of human construction on the ground, saying this adversely affects the natural landscape and that influences the growth of vegetation, so much so people could not but ask whether Lantau residents have to live in a primitive environment, whether the most basic constructions needed by human life are incompatible with nature, and whether residents of the countryside have to give up their homes.

Specifically, Liu refers to the suspension of construction of footpaths connecting villages as well as the opinions against the construction of the typhoon shelter/anchorage in Tai O, describing both as livelihood needs of the residents. Liu expresses frustration at the ease with which environmentalists use the internet and the media to promote their views and the government’s readiness to stop local infrastructural constructions to avoid criticism (by the media and environmentalists) and expenses, knowing that those projects will be of very limited value to the rest of Hong Kong society. Liu claims that after the recent setbacks in May, which “polarized what was a quiet village,” some 50 families left Tai O because it was felt that environmentalist influences entail that only a smaller population would be feasible. Liu’s piece is quite inconspicuously displayed and easy to miss, and has, as far as can be determined, received no media attention.101 Much more casually, tourism sometimes gave opportunity for Tai O fishermen’s voices to be heard by visitors themselves and very occasionally those reached the wider public. An unusually sympathetic visitor narrates in 1995 the experience of living in a stilt house in Tai O and being told “stories” by the landlord Uncle Fuk Kam and comments, If the fisher folks oppose to planting mangrove, they would be accused of being against environmental protection. At the end, the victims (fisher folks) of environmental pollution (harbour pollution) are blamed by those who ruin the environment (developers).102

According to the article, Uncle Fuk Kam used to be a fisherman but was too old (fishing had become difficult anyway) and made a living from renting out his stilt house to some tourists. It is probably no coincidence that the visitor was from a red green group, and such a position of combining social justice and empowerment concerns with environmentalism is by no means popular in Hong Kong and could only find occasional expression in special independent publications such as the short-lived periodical on the web which published the article cited above.103

A Sense of Place in Hong Kong: The Case of Tai O 395

Conclusion Certain aspects of the Tai O case are definitely unique. These include qualities and trajectories, coincidences and chance encounters that have led to such marvels as an entry in a “world’s best” museums list in Hong Kong and a Nobel Prize nomination. But the setting is also very different from other rural localities in Hong Kong. The relative inaccessibility of Tai O caused much more emigration than Ping Shan and other land villages of heritage interest in Hong Kong. More significantly, Tai O fisherfolks are similar to Locke residents who could not own land because of racial discrimination. Unlike the Ping Shan villagers who could close the heritage trail for an extended period in a dispute with the government,104 they did not own quaint monuments that showcase their stories partly because they did not even own, in the eyes of the government, the land on which their stilt houses were built. Because of its unique circumstance Tai O might shed more light on the cultural politics of imagining communities. Many locals not only lack control over access to tangible aspects of culture. They were also disadvantaged by a mismatch between their style of presentation and interpretation and the preferences of external audiences. The Tai O case lends corroboration to the general impression of the rise of “culture” interest in rural communities during the 1980s in Hong Kong. It also confirms that such interests are often linked to interest in the larger Hong Kong story, in this case, the largely groundless “fishing village myth” is sometimes evidently involved. The use of the countryside as symbols of community and nature is also clear. Such uses can be at odds with local priorities, as Tai O’s rope-driven ferry illustrates. The outside interest in history, nature, and culture can be in very sharp contrast to the attitudes of many locals, as the debate over the building of the anchorage makes clear. The emphasis on the local has been a major element of cultural policy debates in Hong Kong. Yet the presentation of culture to audiences in the rest of Hong Kong and beyond might marginalize many voices. Furthermore, the rhetoric of the local entails the reificaton of identities and boundaries in ways that are detrimental to those like the elderly in Tai O, especially those who had became quite literally localized after decades of intense outflow from the place. In this setting, the case of Wong Wai King may be seen as the appropriation of the “local” and the “community” for a set of priorities shared by her outside audience. But her appeals to “local community” and channels established through promoting “local culture” were powerful tools for causes rejected by the local political elite or the government. Wong’s considerable success in her campaign to rebuild the seawall demonstrates the potentials of such tools for mobilizing outsider support and building

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pressure on the government to take action. Some rural leaders’ reaction to Wong’s criticism of the anchorage project probably reveals their perception of the likely impact of her access to the media and the outside world. In this case, the fascination with a rural community has become for some an idiom for building non-local links, links that may mock the very idea of the local community, but at the same time, powerful tools for breaking through political impasses that are local or based on a hierarchy of localities.

Conclusion: Whither Hong Kong and the Hong Konger?

In its key report, Bringing the Vision to Life (February 2000), the Commission on Strategic Development identified the importance of population quality to Hong Kong’s positioning as a major city in China and an Asian World City. The Commission presented its vision of making Hong Kong a vibrant, civil, and cosmopolitan place. It aimed to ensure that Hong Kong’s institutions continue to provide a stable, transparent, and encompassing environment, in which fair competition is appreciated and the rule of law respected. Business and political leaders are well aware that the basic requirements for such positioning are high quality human resources that allow for a global reach and long-term competitiveness. Our point of departure is a shared understanding of the importance of Hong Kong’s population. We highlight that Hong Kong’s chief resource has always been its people. We identify the resources of Hong Kong’s people by critically examining their positioning in past and present local, regional, and global contexts. In this time of rapid change, it is necessary to understand how the people might place themselves within an evolving institutional framework. Their lives, aspirations, cultural capital, and strategic maneuvers constitute the bulk of Hong Kong’s institutional practices. This exploration allows us to understand how Hong Kong’s people are prepared for present and future challenges. We start from a widespread appreciation that Hong Kong has been competitive for many historical reasons. Generalized concepts such as “capitalism” and “colonialism” do not adequately describe Hong Kong’s experience. From the moment Hong Kong was established as a British outpost, it was not a typical “colonial” encounter. With multi-ethnic entrepreneurs sinking roots alongside colonial administrators, the territory began as an urban commercial experience, a node for the circulation of resources and interests among trading empires and industrializing powers. Making use of institutions unavailable on the mainland and elsewhere since the nineteenth century, diverse people have entered and exited Hong Kong during various phases of their lives and careers and deposited layers of value that have connected Hong Kong to regional and global environments. Each layer of historical experience has shaped this city of

398 Conclusion: Whither Hong Kong and the Hong Konger?

migrants. Hong Kong’s infrastructure for livelihood and business has sustained and recycled this multi-ethnic cultural capital. It has been illuminated by its legal institutions, business associations, language and education, religion and rituals, family structures, and consumption. Constant infusions of talent from China and other parts of the world have added value and diversity to local society. Our study highlights the real but fluid borders Hong Kong shares with China and the world beyond. Most of its residents emigrated from the mainland. Their lives have been intimately linked to family members living in rural communities and socialist economies. Furthermore, although a colony, from the 1960s to the 1990s, the Hong Kong government had an unusual degree of autonomy. It relied on an efficient and an increasingly localized civil service to legitimize its position. As a globally connected city throughout this period, Hong Kong has inherent volatile qualities. Policy makers have achieved social cohesion not by exclusiveness and territorial control, but by strategic engagement and participation. A vibrant city culture on the move, brash and luxurious, has become a dominant ordering framework and trend setter. Flexible positioning, based largely on the historical layers of social networks and cultural capital, has been the character of Hong Kong’s human resource landscape. However, the severe economic downturn and deepening social strife in Hong Kong after 1997 raise key questions about whether the economic, political, social, and cultural ordering frameworks have fundamentally changed. All around are multiple views of Hong Kong’s positioning, especially with regard to its tenuous relationship with China under the “One Country, Two Systems” formula. Have profit-driven market forces, combined with political priorities, overwhelmed efforts to preserve historical memory or maintain environmental quality? Have Shanghai, Shenzhen, and other cities in China and Asia eclipsed Hong Kong’s ability to attract foreign investment and professional attention? Although the overwhelming presence of China is keenly felt, has a locally oriented generation understood and appreciated strategic ways to march north?1 Looking ahead, in this China century, would an intense focus on the mainland with its nationalistic discourse marginalize the territory’s cosmopolitan and multi-ethnic connections? Although this is not a theme specifically discussed by our volume, the question relates a great deal to Hong Kong’s efforts to attract global talents in the future. Although business and finance services have regained momentum since the 1997 crisis, confidence in Hong Kong’s future remains jittery among the public. Various groups feel disenfranchised and displaced. Facing pressure from a liberalizing China and a volatile global economy, an already localized population seems to have dug its heels in and turned defensive. Some are

Conclusion: Whither Hong Kong and the Hong Konger? 399

worried that the continuous inflow through family reunion of dependent women and children strains societal resources and tolerance. The lack of consensus about these many processes has generated doubt about the territory’s ability to accommodate competitive talent in times of drastic structural changes. Understanding the changing nature of the border and demographic patterns allows us to map more precisely the ways of life in a place with which millions have identified and to which they attach a future. If Hong Kong can capture the pulsating rhythms of transformations in China and the world today, it may turn present challenges into unprecedented opportunities. Our studies have tried to address the following questions: How must we take into account historical and cultural experiences in appreciating the making of Hong Kong’s populations? Can historical lessons help us better understand the positioning of Hong Kong residents in relation to China and the world? Today, where does Hong Kong’s stock of human resources stand in comparison to other world cities and in view of new regional opportunities? If there is a serious mismatch between Hong Kong’s work force and its service-oriented economy, what combination of policies has led Hong Kong into such an impasse? How can Hong Kong remain open to attract diverse professional and entrepreneurial talents while reinforcing its institutional integrity and cultural capital? How might we critically rethink existing assumptions, policy parameters, and mindsets to re-negotiate a new social contract and road map for the populations of this historic world city charting an uncertain future? These are some of the key issues foremost in our minds when we try to understand the nature of Hong Kong’s human landscape. Hopefully, the analytical categories of “Hong Kong,” “Hong Konger,” and the boundaries of “Hong Kong studies” can be redefined and colleagues in the government and business communities will help translate the new parameters into meaningful practices.

Notes

Introduction 1

2

3

The government held a summit conference on Hong Kong’s positioning on September 11, 2006 and invited thirty-three business, opinion leaders, and officials from China. A major theme was how Hong Kong can maximize its advantages in coordination with China’s recent development plans. It is clear from Beijing officials that developing Hong Kong as a world financial center remains high on China’s list of priorities. See the announcement on Hong Kong government’s website, August 11, 2006; see also commentaries in major newspapers in August and September 2006. Helen Siu, Richard Wong, and David Faure, Rethinking Hong Kong’s Human Resources and Competitiveness: A Pre-Policy Study (Interim Report) (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences, October 2005). See a speech by Victor Fung at the Hong Kong economic summit, “Ruhe peixun rencai, gonggu Xianggang jingzhengli,” (How to nurture talents to reinforce Hong Kong’s competitiveness) Hong Kong Economic Journal Monthly, January 2006. Earlier in May 2005, the Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce (HKGCC) hosted nearly 100 chief executive officers and human resource professionals in a day-long, closed-door session on the topic. The principal investors were invited to present their initial findings. David Eldon, in a press release of the HKGCC, “Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce foresees major human resources challenges ahead,” July 2005, echoed some of the issues presented. The press release received wide coverage in the Chinese and English press on July 14 and 15, 2005; see also media coverage on Fanny Law’s objections to some of the details (2005). In an article published by South China Morning Post (SCMP) (September 20, 2005), “Welcome! We need all the talent we can get,” Eldon again observed that “the quality of Hong Kong’s human capital is lagging behind that of other global business and financial centres,” and stressed the importance for government and businesses to join forces in aggressively nurturing and renewing Hong Kong’s labor pool. On the import of talents and on new immigrants, media coverage includes “Wei yimin chengshi dazao weilai,” (Build a future for the city of immigrants) Wenhui Bao (January 12, 2006, in response to a public lecture made by Helen Siu on the study). See also “Yimin shi Xianggang shenhua de yaoshi,“ (Emigration is key to the Hong Kong miracle), and ”Haineiwai xuezhe rixin xiance,” (Local and overseas scholars eagerly offered expertise), Yazhou Zhoukan (Asia Weekly), February 26, 2006.

402 Notes for pp. 1–2

4

5

6

7 8

On January 3, 2006, Helen Siu presented the study at the Hong Kong Central Library in a public lecture series on business history, organized by the History Department of The Chinese University of Hong Kong. On January 6, 2006, the Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences organized a daylong conference at The University of Hong Kong. Team members presented their findings to academics, business, and political leaders. On May 26, 2006, Helen Siu gave a keynote speech on the topic, in a public seminar jointly organized by the Faculty of Business, The University of Hong Kong, and the South China Morning Post. Richard Wong was one of the panelists to discuss the issues presented. See the second annual fiscal report (2006) of the Greater Pearl River Delta Business Council, as reported by The China Daily (Hong Kong edition) on September 30, 2006 “How to keep Hong Kong as a top financial hub” (Wisers # 200609308450067). In earlier occasions, Victor Fung has discussed various means to attract talents to Hong Kong through investment in quality education. See “Zhu Gang pinpai tuo neidi shichang,” in Mingpao Daily, September 12, 2006, A12 (Wisers # 200609120040200); see Victor Fung’s comments on nurturing educated talents to reinforce Hong Kong’s competitiveness, in a forum in relation to a Hong Kong Economic Summit in 2006 with business and media leaders, reported in Hong Kong Economic Journal, December 5, 2005 (in Wisers # 200612053910056). See earlier views expressed by Fung as reported in Hong Kong Economic Daily on August 22, 2005, A04 (Wisers # 200508220300148). See Eldon (SCMP, September 20, 2005) on the importance of the Pearl River Delta– Hong Kong link, and of globalizing the experience of Hong Kong’s young through a much more open education system. David Eldon, “The Talent We Need,” Bulletin, Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce, April 6, 2006. See also Leslie Kwoh, “Talent gap hits business,” The Standard, May 2, 2006, for an interpretation of Eldon’s essay. SCMP, March 24, 2006. South China Morning Post White Paper: Enhancing Hong Kong’s Competitiveness, August 2006. See recent public opinions on five-day work weeks, shorter work hours, worsening environmental conditions, and their implications for work productivity and health. See comments in a business leader forum on corporate social responsibility as reported by Patsy Moy who quoted David Eldon extensively. The report in SCMP (August 21, 2006) was entitled, “If you finish work, go home: a message bosses must spread.” SCMP conducted a survey and published another white paper for the government, centering on the environment. Donald Tsang’s Policy Address in October 2006 highlights the issue. The debates rage on. See Christine Loh’s newsletter, “The Air Hong Kong Breathe: Tsang at His Best” (October 13, 2006), and a report presented to Donald Tsang by Civic Exchange, published on September 11, 2006, entitled “An Air Management Plan.” Earlier in the summer, Loh published an article in the South China Morning Post “No half measures, please” (July 20, 2006, Wisers # 200607200270040) highlighting the seriousness of air pollution and how it has hurt Hong Kong’s ability to attract global talents.

Notes for pp. 2–7 403

9

10

11 12

13

14

David Eldon, “Is Marginalization Really an Issue for Hong Kong?” Bulletin, Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce, July 2006; Dennis Eng, “Has Our Can-do Spirit Gone?” South China Morning Post White Paper: Enhancing Hong Kong’s Competitiveness, August 2006. For such treatment of Hong Kong experiences, see a collection of essays written around the 1997 turnover of sovereignty, Gary Hamilton ed., Cosmopolitan Capitalist: Hong Kong in the Chinese Diaspora (University of Washington Press, 1999). See also Elizabeth Sinn, Power and Charity: The Early History of Tung Wah Hospital, Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1989). It is interesting to note that Donald Tsang’s policy address in October 2006 devoted a great deal to the upholding of family values. See Lui Tai Lok and Wong Chi Tsang, Xianggang zhongchan jieji chujing guancha (Observations on the Predicaments of Hong Kong’s Middle Class) (Hong Kong: Joint Publishing, 2003). There are different ways to define Hong Kong’s middle class. In an unpublished study of identity and social cohesion for the Central Policy Unit in 2002 and subsequent discussions with government officials, Siu-lun Wong and Helen Siu highlighted the cultural resources and emotions of the “sinking” middle class as urgent concerns for the government. Using objective and subjective criteria, the number in this class could range between 30 and 60 percent of Hong Kong’s population. See also recent debates on the “M” society (Mingpao Daily, April and May 2007). Downward mobility may be a worldwide phenomenon, see also Miura Atsushi, Karyu Shakai on Japan’s sinking middle class (2005). See the works of Lui Ta-lok, Thomas Wong, Chan Kun Chung, in particular, on the predicaments of Hong Kong’s middle class today and their unpredictable future. On the urban culture that grew with the maturing of this generation, see Chan Kun Chung, Wuo zheyidai Xianggang ren (My Generation of Hong Kongers) (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2006 Second Edition). For a perceptive “musing” for this generation lost in a confusing, post-modern city space, see Leo Ou-fan Lee, Youyicheng kuangshangqu (Festival Walk Rhapsodies) (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2006), and Xunhui Xianggang wenhua (In Search of Hong Kong Culture) ( Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2002). On July 1, 2003, in the wake of the SARS crisis, over half a million people took to the streets in protest against a hastily drawn up bill by the government on security legislation, based on Article 23 of the Basic Law. A survey of 1,000 protestors showed that over 60 percent of the marchers had post-secondary degrees (Mingpao Daily “Qiyi youxingzhe liucheng dazhuan xueli 七一遊行者六 成大專學歷 (60 percent of July 1 marchers hold post-secondary degree),” (July 7, 2003, Wisers # 200307070040018). See also SCMP “July 1 marchers were welleducated, says survey,” (July 7, 2003; Wisers # 200307070270042). For a concise rendition of the issues and emotions underlying the July 1 march, see SCMP July 10, 2003, report by Jimmy Cheung and Klaudia Lee, from Wisers # 200307100270037. See also The Standard “50,000 protest in Central,” (July 10, 2003; Wisers # 200307104480020). For a personal chronicle of the Article 23 events, see Ng Oi Yee, 23 tiao lifa rezhi (Hong Kong: Yi chubanshe, 2004).

404 Notes for pp. 7–11

15

16

See Ku and Tsui in this volume. On how cities promote “culture” as business, see Sharon Zukin, The Cultures of Cities (Cambridge, Mass: Blackwell, 1995); see also Dennis R. Judd and Susan S. Fainstein eds., The Tourist City (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999). See a special issue of Public Culture 19, no. 3 (Spring 1997), edited by Ackbar Abbas and Wu Hung, on Hong Kong on the eve of 1997 and some of the artistic emotions.

Part I 1

2

3 4

5

For theoretical literature on the construction of “place” with embedded meanings and power relations, please see Ahkil Gupta and James Ferguson, “Beyond ‘Culture’: Space, Identity and the Politics of Difference,” in Gupta and Ferguson eds., Culture, Power, Place: Explorations in Critical Anthropology (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1997), 33–51; Neil Brenner, “Global, Fragmented, Hierarchical: Henri Lefebvre’s Geographies of Globalization,” Public Culture 10, no. 1 (1997): 137–69. The concept originally came from Manual Castell. For recent theoretical works concerned with the reconfiguration of urban space in the modern and postmodern era, see David Harvey, The Condition of Postmodernity (Oxford: Blackwell, 1989); Saskia Sassen, “Spatialities and Temporalities of the Global: Elements for a Theorization,” Public Culture: Globalization 2 Millennial Quartet 2000 (Arjun Appadurai guest editor); Ulf Hannerz, “The Cultural Role of World Cities,” in Ulf Hannerz, Transnational Connections (London, New York: Routledge, 1996), 127–39; James Holston and Arjun Appadurai, “Introduction: Cities and Citizenship,” in James Holston ed., Cities and Citizenship (Durham, N. C.: Duke University Press, 1999), 1–18. For the early history of Hong Kong and the military sites in Tuen Mun and Tung Chung, see various works by Siu Kwok Kin. For supplementary reading on the topic of export paintings, see Souvenir from Canton — Chinese Export Paintings from the Victoria and Albert Museum (chief editors, Ming Wilson, Liu Zhiwei)(Shanghai: Shanghai Classics Publishing House, 2003); see also Views from the West: Collection of Pith Paper Watercolours Donated by Mr. Ifan Williams to the City of Guangzhou (chief editors May Bo Ching and Cheng Cunjie)(Beijing: Zhonghua Publishing House, 2001); the rich collection of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank on China Trade paintings also illuminates the cultural styles of this trans-cultural mercantile culture centering on Guangdong, Hong Kong, and London. See the exquisite collection of eighteenthand nineteenth-century China Trade paintings, porcelain, silver, and other craft items in the Peabody Museum of Salem, Massachusetts. For cosmopolitan cultural styles circulating in Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Hong Kong during the Republican era, see the works of Leo Ou-fan Lee, in particular, Shanghai Modern: The Flowering of a New Urban Culture in China, 1930–1945 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999), on film and media production. See also a personal reading of Hong Kong by Lee. Leo Ou-fan Lee, City between Worlds: My Hong Kong (Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2008).

Notes for pp. 13–17 405

Chapter 1 1

2

3 4

5

6

7

The “space of flow” is a phrase borrowed from Manuel Castells, The Age of Information. Economy, Society and Culture (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1997) 3 volumes, Volume 2. The Power of Identity, 1. Castells uses this term to describe a new type of social space created by information technology. Although its connotation is totally different from mine, I am nevertheless borrowing the phrase because it is so potent in evoking an imagery of intense and constant movement. E. J. Eitel, Europe in China, 273; Henry Anthon Jr., Vice-consul to Peter Parker, Charge d’Affaires for the United States, Canton, 25 March 1852, in The United States and China Series I. The Treaty System and the Taiping Rebellion, 1841–1860 (Wilmington, Delaware: Scholarly Resources) 21 volumes, Volume 17, The Coolie Trade and Chinese Emigration, 151–52. Bonham to Newcastle, dispatch no. 44, 13 June 1853, in Hong Kong Blue Book (1852):130–39, 136–37. For an overview of Hong Kong and Chinese emigration, see Elizabeth Sinn, “Emigration from Hong Kong before 1941: General Trends” in Ronald Skeldon, ed., Emigration from Hong Kong (Hong Kong: The Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1995), 11–34, and “Emigration from Hong Kong before 1941: Organization and Impact”, ibid., 35–50. The classic work on Chinese emigration in the English language is Persia Crawford Campbell, Chinese Coolie Emigration to Countries within the British Empire (New York: Negro University, 1969, 1st published 1923) which presents a very biased view and unjustifiably generalizes the experience of emigrants to the British colonies to those bound for the Gold Rush countries. Such prejudice is repeated in Gunther Barth, Bitter Strength: A History of the Chinese in the United States 1850–1870 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1984) in his eagerness to show the suffering of Chinese emigrants. A similar approach is taken by Robert J. Schwendinger’s Ocean of Bitter Dreams: Maritime Relations between China and the United States, 1850–1915 (Tucson, Ariz.: Westernlore Press, 1988). For Chinese emigration to Cuba and Peru, see Robert Lee Irick, Ch’ing Policy towards the Coolie Trade, 1847–1878 (Taipei: Chinese Materials Center, 1980). Chinese works almost without exception label all emigration as “pig” traffic, emphasizing the abuses and injustice. See “Preface” in Chen Hansheng, et al, eds., Huagong chuguo shiliao huibian (Collection of Documents Related to Chinese Labour Emigration) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1980–85) 6 volumes, Volume 1, 1–20 for a typical description. For the organization of the passenger shipping business, see Elizabeth Sinn, “The Gold Rush Passenger Trade and the History of Hong Kong 1849–1867”, in Adrian Jarvis, Richard Harding and Alston Kennerley, eds., British Ships in China Seas: 1700 to the Present Day (Liverpool: Society for Nautical Research and National Museums Liverpool, 2004), 129–53. The early emigrants to Cuba and Peru went under contracts that did not provide for a return passage after the contract expired, and many could not afford a return passage and were forced to stay behind to work for another term. The conditions at every stage were so horrendous that large numbers of them either

406 Notes for pp. 19–22

8

9

10

11

12 13

14 15

16

17

died on board ship on their outbound journey or while working. This was what made potential migrants so afraid to go to these places, and also why coercion was required to recruit labour to work there. Friend of China, 14 July 1852; the story of the Sultana is reported in the Friend of China 7, 14 July; 7, 11, 14 August; 4, 8, 11, 29 September; 20 October; 20, 27 November; 8 December 1852; 12 January 1853. Tam Choy, who had first made his fortune as a contractor, was one of Hong Kong’s most powerful Chinese at the time. See Carl Smith, “The Emergence of a Chinese Elite in Hong Kong” in Carl T. Smith, Chinese Christians: Elites, Middlemen, and the Church in Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1985), 114– 15. The importance of a mechanism for the collection of debts in California was emphasized in “Remarks of the Chinese Merchants of San Francisco upon Governor Bigler’s Message and Some Common Objections with Some Explanations of the Character of the Chinese Companies, and the Laboring Class in California” (San Francisco: printed in the office of the Oriental, 1855), 14, though no direct mention of the Hong Kong connection was made. Bonham to Newcastle, 6 January 1854, dispatch no. 4: Great Britain. Colonial Office, Series 129. Original Correspondence: Hong Kong (hereafter, CO 129) / 45, 22–23. Colonial Land and Emigration Office to Frederick Peel, 15 September 1854: CO 129/48, 187–90. In the Chinese Passengers’ Act, the orlop deck issue, which the merchants complained about on many occasions, was resolved by its omission. Measurement to determine number of passengers was to be based entirely on deck area, not tonnage, which made things more flexible. In addition, each Chinese passenger was allowed only 12 superficial feet rather than 15 feet, as allowed in the Imperial Act, thus increasing significantly the carrying capacity of any vessel. In the 1850s, the currency used in Hong Kong was the Mexican dollar, and it was equivalent to about 4 shilling 2d in sterling. See the Captain’s account of the violence on the Duke of Portland, 424–25, in the Parliamentary Paper entitled “Copies of Any Recent Communications to or from the Foreign Office, Colonial Office, Board of Trade, and Other Department of Her Majesty’s Government, on the Subject of Mortality on Board the ‘Duke of Portland’, or Any Other British Ships, Carrying Emigrants from China”, reprinted in British Parliamentary Papers (Shannon: Irish University Press, 1974), vol. IV, “Chinese Emigration”, 415–34; the case is also reported in “Copies of Recent Communications to or from the Foreign Office, Colonial Office, Board of Trade, and Any Other Department of Her Majesty’s Government, on the Subject of Mortality on Board British Ships Carrying Emigrants from China or India”, in ibid., 459–93. For the letters regarding the remit of the fine, see 484–85. Ordinance no. 11 of 1857: “An Ordinance for Licensing and Regulating Emigration Passage Brokers”, Hong Kong Government Gazette (hereafter HKGG), November 1857, 3–4. Ordinance no. 6 of 1859, HKGG.

Notes for pp. 22–28 407

18 19

20

21

22

23

24

25 26

27

Ordinance no. 4 of 1870. For a review of the revisions of the Passengers Act, see Proclamation, HKGG, 2 November 1872, 484–85. For example, Captain Winchester of the Caribbean, despite pressure from the charterer, refused to carry more passengers than permitted, realizing that now, with the Act in place, things were different. Jardine, Matheson & Co. to Russell & Co., 27 August 1858 (p. 2, JMA/ Letter Book C 14/8). The Jardine, Matheson & Co. archives are housed at Cambridge University Library. For an insightful analysis of the early history of the rule of law in Hong Kong, see Christopher Munn, Anglo-China: Chinese People and British Rule in Hong Kong 1841–1880 (Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 2001). Adam McKeown’s article on Chinese emigration gives an excellent account on how the emigrant’s connections, real and symbolic, with the home village were sustained. See his “Transnational Chinese Families and Chinese Exclusion, 1875– 1943”, Journal of American Ethnic History 18, no. 2 (Winter 1999): 73–110. Madeline Hsu, in her excellent work, Dreaming of Gold, Dreaming of Home: Transnationalism and Migration between the United States and South China 1820–1943 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2000) depicts the many ways Chinese Americans maintained two homes — spiritual, emotional and material. See Elizabeth Sinn, “Moving Bones: Hong Kong’s Role as an ‘In-between Place’ in the Chinese Diaspora”, in Sherman Cochran and David Strand, eds., Cities in Motion (Berkeley: Institution of East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley, 2007), 247–71. Jardine, Matheson & Co. to Russell & Co., Hong Kong, 25 August 1858 (p. 525, JMA/ Letter Book C 14/7); Jardine, Matheson & Co. to Russell & Co., Hong Kong, 27 August 1858 (p. 2, JMA/ Letter Book C 14/8); Jardine, Matheson & Co to Russell & Co, Hong Kong, 8 November 1858 (p. 40, JMA/ Letter Book C 14/ 8). For an idea of the Hong Kong–California trade, see Elizabeth Sinn, “Preparing Opium for America: Hong Kong and Cultural Consumption in the Chinese Diaspora”, Journal of Chinese Overseas 1:1 (May 2005): 16–42. For a case study of the use of remittances, see Sinn, “Moving Bones”. Before the Gold Rush, some of the conventional “China goods” such as silk, tea, matting, etc, were being exported from Hong Kong for American consumption, but with the passenger trade, very different products were also shipped specifically for Chinese consumption. For a brief historical account of the California trade, see Xianggang Hua An shanghui niankan (Annual Journal of the Wah On Exporters and Importers Association) (Hong Kong, 1951), 27–28. The journal ran from 1951–1978 and is a most valuable source for the study of the trade. In a 1915 directory, at least 23 such geographically-defined Chinese trading groups are listed, including: California and Honolulu [including Australia], Singapore, Penang, Calcutta, Cambodia, Peru, Havana, Java, South Africa, Panama, Sandakan, Spain and Manila, Annam, Siam, Haiphong and different ports in China. Xianggang Zhonghua shangye jiaotong renming zhinan lu (The Anglo-Chinese Commercial Directory) (Hong Kong, 1915[?]),1–2. These trading firms were primarily organized along tongxiang or family lines. For instance,

408 Notes for pp. 28–32

28 29

30

31

32 33 34 35

most of the Siam trading firms in Hong Kong were owned and operated by Chaozhou merchants dealing with correspondent firms in Siam which were also owned and operated by Chaozhou merchants, and often by members of the same family. For a brief discussion of Hong Kong’s export-import trade, see Economic Information & Agency (Jingji daobao she), Xianggang shangye zhinan (Hong Kong Commercial Directory) (Hong Kong, 1960), Section 1, 32–57. George Lyall, Minutes of the meetings of the Legislative Council reported in Friend of China, 20 October 1858. Elizabeth Sinn, “Xin xi guxiang: A Study of Regional Associations as a Bonding Mechanism in the Chinese Diaspora. The Hong Kong Experience”, Modern Asian Studies, 31, no. 2 (May 1997): 375–97 and “Cohesion and Fragmentation: A County-Level Perspective on Chinese Transnationalism in the 1940s” in Leo Douw, Cen Huang and Michael R. Godley, eds., Qiaoxiang Ties: Interdisciplinary Approaches to “Cultural Capitalism” in South China (London and New York: Kegan Paul International, and International Institute for Asian Studies, Leiden and Amsterdam, 1999), 67–86. For the history of the Tung Wah Hospital, see Elizabeth Sinn, Power and Charity: The Early History of the Tung Wah Hospital, Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1989), reprinted as Power and Charity: A Chinese Merchant Elite in Colonial Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2005 with a new preface). For the development of English newspapers in Hong Kong and elsewhere on the China coast, see Frank H. H. King and Prescott Clarke, A Research Guide to China-Coast Newspapers 1822–1911 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1965); Prescott Clarke, “The Development of the English-Language Press on the China Coast 1827–1881” (M.A. Thesis, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, 1961). For the impact of foreigners on Chinese newspapers, see Fang Hanqi, ed., Zhongguo xinwen shiye tongshi (History of Chinese Journalism) (Beijing: Zhongguo renmin daxue chuban she, 1992), 243–446. Fang was much less generous to the foreign pioneers of the Chinese press in an earlier work, Zhongguo jindai baokan shi (A Modern History of the Newspapers and Magazines of China) (Taiyuan, Shanxi: Shanxi sheng Xinhua shudian, 1981). For the development of the Chinese newspapers, see Zhuo Nansheng, Zhongguo jindai baoye fazhan shi 1815–1874 (The Development of Chinese Newspapers in the Modern Period 1815–1874) (Taibei: Zhengzhong shudian, 1998), 78–101. The book was originally published in Japanese, under the name Toh Lam-seng, Chugoku kindai shinbun seiritsushi 1815–1874 (The Beginnings of Modern Chinese Newspapers and Their Development in the 19th Century) (Tokyo: Perikansha, 1990). Zhuo, Zhongguo jindai baoye fazhan shi, 78–101. Xia’er guanzhen (hereafter XG), vol. 2, no. 1 (January 1854), 5b–7b, 5b. XG vol. 2, no. 2 (September 1853), 11b; also see XG vol. 2, no. 8 (August 1854), 8b. XG vol. 2, no. 1 (January 1854), 5b–7b, 6b. The reason given here for the nonemigration of women was a popular though overly convenient one. Cf. McKeown’s and Hsu’s interpretations (see note 21).

Notes for pp. 32–36 409

36 37 38 39 40

41 42

43 44

45 46

XG vol. 2, no. 10 (October 1854), 11a ; vol. 3, no. 3 (March 1855). This Act was later declared unconstitutional by the US Supreme Court, and the information was published in the HKGG, 9 April 1859. XG vol. 3, no. 5 (May 1855), 15b–17b. The English translation of the address is printed as “Remarks of the Chinese Merchants of San Francisco” (see note 21). XG vol. 3, no. 5 (May 1855), 15b–17a, 17b; a list of the different laws targeted at Chinese was given in vol. 3, no. 8 (August 1855), 16a–18a. The history of the establishment of Chinese consuls is discussed in Irick, Ch’ing Policy toward the Coolie Trade and Harley Farnsworth MacNair, The Chinese Abroad, Their Position and Protection: A Study in International Law and Relations (Shanghai: The Commercial Press, 1925). Zhuang Guotu’s Zhongguo fengjian zhengfu de Huaqiao zhengce (The Policy of the Feudalistic Chinese Governments toward Overseas Chinese) (Xiamen: Xiamen University Press, 1989) provides an excellent analysis of the Chinese government’s policy toward Chinese emigrants from the middle of the Ming dynasty to the end of Qing. See also Cao Qian, “Wan Qing zhengfu dui Meiguo Huaqiao and baohu zhengce ji qi pingjia” in Huadong shifan daxue xuebao, 6 (1985), 79–85; Lin Yuanhui “Qingdai zai shijie gedi shezhi lingshi wenti chutan” in Huaqiao shi lunwen ji, vol. 3 (Guangzhou: Jinan University,1983), 60–79. These works, however, are based primarily on official documents and pay no attention to the press or public opinion, or how the emigrants themselves felt. XG vol. 1, no. 1 (August 1853), 10b–12a. For instance, XG vol. 2, no. 5 (May 1854), 8b–9a noted that the California government was imposing a fine on ships for carrying more passengers than permitted; vol. 4, no. 3 (March 1856), 12b–13b provided the full text of the Chinese Passengers Act. XG vol. 2, no. 2 (February 1854), 11b–12a. XG, vol. 2, no. 9 (September 1854), 9a; other cases appeared in vol. 3, no. 7 (July 1855), 12b–13a; vol. 2, no. 10 (October 1854), 11a–11b; vol. 3, no. 6 (June 1855), 10b. XG vol. 2, no. 3/4 (March/April 1854), 8a; vol. 4, no. 3 (March 1856), 15b. On many occasions Chen acted as interpreter for deputations to the Governor, in particular, John Pope Hennessy, Governor from 1877 to 1882, who was very impressed by him (“Statement of Hennessy”, HKGG 1881, 421 and 426). Hennessy later referred to him as “a friend of mine” (Minutes of the Meeting of the Legislative Council, 3 June 1881, in HKGG, 4 June 1881, 388. Hennessy also added that he believed that Chen was currently receiving a salary of $1,200 per annum as an officer of the Chinese government in Cuba where he was the consul-general). Chen was also interpreter for the Commission to investigate the working of the Contagious Diseases Ordinance, and was appreciated as “an interpreter of the highest value” and for his “intimate and thorough knowledge of his countrymen and of their modes of thought and feelings” (Great Britain. British Parliamentary Papers: China (Shannon: Irish University Press, 1971), vol. XXV, 523). His reputation as a “young Cantonese linguist” found its way even to Shanghai (Shanghai Courier, 15 June 1871, reprinted in China Mail, 21 June 1871.)

410 Notes for pp. 37–47

47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

59 60

There are two missing issues in the collection, 13 May 1871 and 13 January 1872. The advertisement ran for three consecutive weeks: Qiribao (hereafter QB), 15, 22, 29 April 1871. QB, 2 December 1871. QB, 2 December 1871. QB, 2 December 1871. QB, 8 April and 2 December 1871. QB, 8 April 1871. QB, 18 March 1871. QB, 18 March 1871. QB, 3 June 1871 Irick, Ch’ing Policy toward the Coolie Trade, 273–89. See Elizabeth Sinn, “Beyond tianxia: The Zhongwai Xinwen Qiribao (Hong Kong 1871–72) and the Construction of a Transnational Chinese Community”, China Review 4, no. 1 (Spring 2004): 89–122, which explores the political, social and economic environment in which such media images and contents were produced. A more general analysis of this paper is in Elizabeth Sinn, “Emerging Media: Hong Kong and the Early Evolution of the Chinese Press”, Modern Asian Studies 36, no. 2 (June 2002): 421–65. See, for instance, The Oriental (San Francisco), 18 September; 16 and 23 October, 1875; 20 January; 26 February and 27 May 1876. Xianggang Taishan Tanshi Guangyu tongxianghui huikan (Publication of the Taishan Tan Surname Guangyu Association of Hong Kong) (Hong Kong, 1965[?]), 8.

Chapter 2 1

2 3

4

5

Tsang Fook was founded in 1916 in Hong Kong by Mr. Tsang Fook, a Qingyuan native. Mr. Tsang came to Hong Kong in the late nineteenth century and worked in the Robinson Piano Company. He then studied abroad the techniques of making pianos and toning, and started his own piano business in Wan Chai, Hong Kong in 1916. See the official web site of Tsang Fook: http://www. tsangfook.com.hk/tsangfook/company/profile.asp. Deng Songjiao, Xinyue Ji (Hong Kong: New Moon Records Company, 1930), 13–14, 16. Yung Sai Shing, “Cong yeyu yueshe dao yueyue shengchan: Qian Guangren ji qi Xinyue Liushengji Changpian Gongsi (1926–1936)” (Commodifying Cantonese Music: Qian Guangren and His New Moon Gramophone Company (1926–1936)), Dongfang Wenhua 39, no. 1 (2005): 3–20. By “commodification”, Yung refers to the production and the sale of Cantonese music and opera songs records. Andrew F. Jones, “The Gramophone in China”, in Lydia H. Liu ed., Tokens of Exchange: The Problem of Translation in Global Circulations (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1999), 226. With regard to the political background for the rise of national products since the mid-1920s, see Karl Gerth, China Made: Consumer Culture and the Creation of the Nation (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Asia Center, 2003), chap. 4.

Notes for pp. 48–50 411

6 7 8 9

10

11

12

13

14 15

16

17

See also the companies and factories listed in the Xianggang huazi gongchang diaocha lu (A Survey of the Chinese-invested Factories in Hong Kong), 1934. Matthew Turner, Made in Hong Kong: A History of Export Design in Hong Kong, 1900–1960 (Hong Kong: Urban Council, 1988), 32. See Deng Songjiao, Xinyue Ji, 32. See Deng Songjiao, Xinyue Ji, 9. I use the phrase “multi-vocal” here to refer to both the multi-dialect environment and the co-existence of different music and opera activities in late nineteenthand early twentieth-century Shanghai. See Hosea Ballou Morse, In the days of the Taipings, being the recollections of Ting Kienchang, otherwise Meisun, sometime scoutmaster and captain in the ever-victorious army and interpreter-in-chief to General Ward and General Gordon: an historical retrospect (Salem, Mass.: Essex Institute, 1927), 40–41 . See Lin Huifeng, “Guangbang yu Chaobang: Wanqing lü Hu Yueshang Guankui” (The Guang Clique and Chao Clique: A Glance of the Sojourning Guangdong Merchants in Shanghai), Zhongshan daxue xuebao (Shehui kexue ban) 44, no. 5 (2004): 95–99. The figures he uses are quoted from the Guangdong lü Hu Tongxianghui Yuekan, published in 1934. For an overall view of the growth of regional associations in Shanghai, see Bryna Goodman, Native Place, City, and Nation: Regional Network and Identities in Shanghai, 1853–1937 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995). For the history of Guang-Zhao Gongsuo, consult Song Zuanyou, “Yige chuantong zuzhi zai chengshi jindaihua zhong zuoyong: Shanghai Guang-Zhao Gongsuo chutan”, Shilin, no. 4 (1996): 54–66. Regarding the activities and influences of Guangdong merchants in Shanghai, see Zhang Xiaohui, Sun Liping, “Minguo qianqi Yueshang wenhua zai Shanghai de fushe xiaoying”, Xueshu Yuekan, no. 12 (2004): 57–62. Lu Huanquan, “Guangdong lü Hu Tongxianghui chuangshe ji”, Guangdong lü Hu Tongxianghui yuekan, 1 October 1933, 1–2. See the notice posted by Guang-Zhao Gongsuo in Guangzhao Zhoubao, 22 June 1919; see also the diagram of Guang-Zhao Shanzhuang attached to “Shanghai shi gongsuo huiguan shanzhuang lianhehui ji ge gongsuo, huiguan, shanzhuang” (Q118–12–140–21), collection of Shanghai Archives. Lin Yun, “Woguo yuetan shang yiwei jiechu de minzu yinyuejia”, in Guangdong sheng minjian yinyue yanjiushi ed., Lü Wencheng Guangdong Yinyue qu xuan (Beijing: Renmin yinyue chubanshe, 1990), 6. See also Guangdong Yanhuang wenhua yanjiuhui ed., Yueyun Xiangpiao: Lü Wencheng yu Guangdong yinyue lunji (Macau: Aomen chubanshe, 2004), 57, 263. For a semi-official history of Jingwuhui and the personal history of Chen Gongzhe, see Chen Gongzhe, Jingwuhui wushi nian (Shenyang: Chunfeng Wenyi chubanshe, 2001) (first edition published in Hong Kong in 1957). See also “Jingwu tiyuhui shiliaoxuan”, Dang’an yu shixue, no. 1 (1998): 21. For a condensed history of the three department stores, see Wellington K. K. Chan, “Selling Goods and Promoting a New Commercial Culture: The Four Premier Department Stores on Nanjing Road, 1917–1937”, in Sherman Cochran ed., Inventing Nanjing Road: Commercial Culture in Shanghai, 1900–1945 (Ithaca: Cornell University, 1999), 19–36.

412 Notes for pp. 50–53

18 19

20 21 22 23 24 25

26

27

28 29 30

31 32 33 34

35 36 37 38

“Jingwu tiyuhui shiliaoxuan”, Dang’an yu shixue, no. 1 (1998): 18. See “Shanghai Guang-Zhao Gongsuo gongzuo gaikuang (1950–1951)” in “Shanghai shi gongsuo huiguan shanzhuang lianhehui ji ge gongsuo, huiguan, shanzhuang” (Q118–12–140–21), collection of Shanghai Archives. “Ge xuexiao zhi biyeli”, Shenbao, 15 July 1924. Guangdong Yanhuang wenhua yanjiuhui ed., Yueyun Xiangpiao: Lü Wencheng yu Guangdong yinyue lunji, 50. “Zhonghua Yinyuehui zuo yan ‘Aihechao’”, Shenbao, 19 March 1924. “Xianshi zhiyuan yan Yueju”, Shenbao, 15 January 1925. “Tan Yuequ ‘Furong hen”, Shenbao, 15 January 1925. See the correspondences between Wing On Company and Guang-Zhao Gongsuo, “Gongsi heying Yong’an Gongsi Yong’an Yueshe ji Guang-Zhao Gongsuo wanglai xinjian”, (Q225–2–7), collection of Shanghai Archives. For a vivid description and extensive analysis of the cultural activities that took place in Shanghai, one should consult Leo Ou-fan Lee, Shanghai Modern: The Flowering of a New Urban Culture in China, 1930–1945 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999). See Song Zuanyou, “Yueju zai jiu Shanghai de yanchu”, Shilin, no. 1 (1994): 64–70. The earliest Cantonese opera troupes reportedly came to perform in Shanghai in 1862. See Jiang Bin, “Jiu Shanghai de Guangdong xi”, Guangzhoushi Zhengxie Wenshi Ziliao Yanjiu Weiyuanhui, Yueju Yanjiu Zhongxin eds., Yueju Chunqiu (Guangzhou Wenshi Ziliao), no. 42 (1990): 107–108, first published in Guangzhou Ribao, 19 December 1988. “Yue kunban jingzheng zhi jingshen”, Shenbao, 17 February 1925. See Song Zuanyou’s article cited in note 27. “Guangwutai yuandan yilai zhi jukuang”, Shenbao, 3 March 1923. “Changdi” is the bund district in Guangzhou which has prospered since the first decade of the twentieth century. The location of “Houhai of Hong Kong” is unclear. Although there is a “Houhai Wan” (Deep Bay) in Hong Kong, I believe “Houhai” here means Victoria Harbour as the harbour is located at the “back” of Hong Kong Island, and its prosperity was parallel to that of Changdi back in those years. Wo Foshan ren, Li Xuefang, 2nd ed. (Shanghai: Dongya shuju, 1920), 17. “Yue kenjiao duanping”, Shenbao, 16 January 1925. “Li Xuefang zhi linqu qiubo”, Shenbao, 12 December 1920. See Wo Foshan Ren, Li Xuefang, 1. For the background of Jian Shiqing, see Zhongguo Kexueyuan Shanghai Jingji Yanjiusuo, Shanghai Shehui Kexueyuan Jingji Yanjiusuo eds., Nanyang Xiongdi Yancao Gongsi Shiliao (Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin chubanshe, 1958), 753. See Li Jiarong, Wo Foshanren Zhuan, manuscript, collection of Guangdong Provincial Library. “Mingling Li Xuefang zuori yugui”, Shenbao, 10 April 1923. “Yue kunban jingzheng zhi jingshen”, Shenbao, 17 February 1925. From the commentaries on Cantonese opera performances published in Shenbao in the 1920s, we see the use of Cantonese in Cantonese opera in those days was only occasional. See, for example, “Ping Yueju ‘Wangu Jiaren’”, Shenbao, dated

Notes for pp. 53–59 413

39 40 41

42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

53

54 55 56

57

58 59 60 61 62

15 February 1924; “Qiansuihe zhi ‘Guaimai Shumu’”, Shenbao, dated 3 March 1924; “Qiansuihe yan xin Yueju”, Shenbao, 11 April 1924. “Guangwutai guanju ji”, Shenbao, 25 March 1924. “Yueju fushi zhi jinxi guan”, Shenbao, 9 March 1925. For news about performances by Cantonese opera troupes in the Guang Theatre, see the reports of Shenbao, dated 8 February 1923, and also the advertisements concerned. Examples of commentaries on Cantonese opera can be found in Shenbao, dated 21 February 1923, 8 March 1923, 10 March 1923, 27 November 1923, 12 February 1924, 14 February 1924, 15 February 1924, and 29 February 1924. Wu Wo, “Yueban yu Jingban zhi yitong”, Xi Zazhi, no. 6 (January 1923): 12–13. Juchao (Hong Kong: Youjie bianyi gongsi, 1924), no. 1: 2. Wo Foshanren, Li Xuefang, 9–10. See Song Zuanyou (1994), 69. “Lingjie lianhehui shisiban huixi yuanqi” (advertisement), Shenbao, 19 March 1926. “Guang-Zhao yueshubaoshe yanjiang ji”, Guang-Zhao zhoubao, 25 January 1920, 9. “Qingnianhui yinyue dahui zhixu”, Shenbao, 12 June 1920. “Gongjie yinyuebu zhi tonglehui”, Guang-Zhao zhoubao, 28 November 1920. “Zhonghua Yinyuehui tonglehui ji”, Shenbao, 10 April 1923. “Jingwu tonglehui jiang yanju”, Shenbao, 15 February 1924. Xiang Zuhua, “Guoyue guibao, Xingkong canshuo: jinian Lü Wencheng danchen 105 zhounian”, in Guangdong Yanhuang wenhua yanjiuhui ed., Yueyun Xiangpiao: Lü Wencheng yu Guangdong yinyue lunji, 185. He Huang was born in Kaiping, Guangdong in 1934. He went to Hong Kong after the War of Resistance was over and became an apprentice in a barber shop run by his relative. It was in the barber shop that Mr. He became familiar with Lü Wencheng. See Yu Qiwei, “Guanyu Yueyue de yixie ‘huo shiliao’ — He Huang tan Lü Wencheng ji qita”, Guangdong Yishu, no. 3 (2002): 43. For a detailed biography of Lü, see Guangdong Yanhuang wenhua yanjiuhui ed., Yueyun Xiangpiao: Lü Wencheng yu Guangdong yinyue lunji. Lü Wencheng, “Tongxianqin yu erhu zhi zoufa”, Shenbao, 18 May 1925. For similar experiments attempted by the musicians and music educators in Beijing, see Han Guohuang, “Cong yinyue yanjiu hui dao yinyue yiwenshe (xinlun)”, in Liu Jingzhi ed., Zhongguo Xin Yinyue Shi Lunji (1920–1945), (Hong Kong: The Centre of Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, 1988), 245–287. Chen Zhengsheng, “Datong Yuehui huodong jishi”, Jiaoxiang — Xi’an Yinyue Xueyuan Xuebao (Quarterly), no. 2 (1999): 12–16. For the effort made by Datong Yuehui to reproduce “instruments of antiquity”, see “Datong Yuehui xinzhi gu yueqi”, Shenbao, 8 January 1925. “Datong Yuehui choubei xiuzheng zhongxi yue”, Shenbao, 13 February 1924. See, for example, “Gailiang woguo yinyue de yijian”, “Guoyue gailiang tan”, published on Shenbao, 7 April 1925 and 15 October 1925. See Guangdong Yanhuang wenhua yanjiuhui ed., Yueyun Xiangpiao: Lü Wencheng yu Guangdong yinyue lunji, 53. Chen Tisheng, Xin yuefu (Shanghai: Zhongyang Jingwu, 1923), 4–5. Yan Chanbo, “Zhonghua Yinyuehui youyihui xinde”, Zhongyang, no. 2 (1 August 1922): 25–26.

414 Notes for pp. 59–66

63

64 65 66

67

68

69

70 71

72 73

74

Situ Mengyan (1888–1954) was a Kaiping native but was born in Shanghai. It was said that he received music training while studying at MIT in 1906. After returning to Shanghai, Situ worked in the Jiangnan Arsenal and continued to be an amateur violinist. Like Lü Wencheng and Qian Guangren, Situ was a leading member of Jingwuhui and China Music Society. See Chen Gongzhe, Jingwuhui wushinian, 34. “Ji Lü Wencheng zhi ‘Yanzilou’ changpian”, Shenbao, 16 January 1925. Deng Songjiao ed., Xinyue ji, section on music, 8–9, 15–16, 28–29, 30. For the controversial remarks on Li Jinhui’s music during the Republican period, see Andrew Jones, Yellow Music: Media Culture and Colonial Modernity in the Chinese Jazz Age (Durham: Duke University Press, 2001), chap. 3, “The Yellow Music of Li Jinhui”. See Hu Zefen ed., Boyin mingqu xuan (Guangzhou: Xierong yinshuguan, prefaced 1944), 52, 61, 65–66, 109; Zuixin luyin Yuequ huangshanghuang (n.p., n.d.), 159, 220, 463. The most common waijiang xiaodiao adapted into Cantonese operas were Xianhua diao, Song qinglang, and Hong xiuxie. See, for example, the Bailixi hui qi published by Wugui Tang in Guangzhou and Hong Kong in the late Qing and early Republic. Liang Qichao, “(Tongsu jingshen jiaoyu xin juben) Ban Dingyuang ping xiyu” (originally published in Xin Xiaoshuo, August to October 1905, no. 19–21, collected in Liang Qichao, Yinbingshi heji, jiwaiwen, Vol. II (compiled by Xia Xiaohong) (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 2005), 1300–1304. See Shanghai Guang-Zhao Gongsuo jiaoyu jingfei choumu weiyuanhui dunqing Yong’an yueshe yiyan teji, November 1950, February 1952. Examples are the Yueyue mingqu ji published by Shanghai Guoguang Bookstore in 1953, and the Yueyue mingqu xuan published by Shanghai Wenyi chubanshe in 1958. Guangdong Yanhuang wenhua yanjiuhui ed., Yueyun Xiangpiao: Lü Wencheng yu Guangdong yinyue lunji, 264. For Lü Wencheng’s influence in Hong Kong in the 1950s, see Huang Zhihua, Zaoqi Xianggang Yueyu Liuxingqu (Hong Kong: Joint Publishing (H.K.) Co., Ltd., 2000), 94–104. One may also look at the experience of the Shanghai movie directors who migrated to Hong Kong after 1949 and became more and more “localized” throughout the years after. See Stephen Teo, “The Shanghai Hangover: The Early Years of Mandarin Cinema in Hong Kong”, in Cinema of Two Cities: Hong Kong–Shanghai (The 18th Hong Kong International Film Festival) (Hong Kong: Urban Council, 1994), 17–24.

Chapter 3 1 2 3

Commentary on Xianggang Feng Qing: Ming Pao, 12 July 1985, 37; Tai Kung Pao, 19 July 1985, 18. Letters collected by the editor-in-chief, Mr. Yuan Hau Can. Packaging & Design 41 (1987): 2.

Notes for pp. 68–107 415

4 5 6

4As is the Association of Accredited Advertising Agents. A mainland version of City Magazine has been launched recently. International Advertising, Jan 2003.

Part II 1

For a more thorough treatment of the controversial right of abode debates, see Johannes Chan and B. Rwezaura eds., Immigration Law in Hong Kong: An Interdisciplinary Study (Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia: Sweet & Maxwell Press, 2004).

Chapter 4 1 2

3

4

5

6

7 8

E.g. a net increase of 1.35% of the total population in 1962 and a net decrease of 1.27% in 1966. For examples, see Kit-chun Lam and Pak-wai Liu, Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: City University Press, 1998) and Yue-chim Richard Wong, “Hong Kong Growing as Part of China: A Historical Perspective”, paper presented at Far Eastern Econometric Society Meeting, Hong Kong, 24–26 July 1997. In 2003, the Hong Kong government has studied and published a report on Hong Kong’s population challenges and policy options (Report of the Task Force on Population Policy). Among other things, they suggest attracting talents from other countries and Mainland China in particular. The dependency ratio is the ratio of the economically dependent part of the population to the productive part; arbitrarily defined as the ratio of the elderly (ages 65 and older) plus the young (under age 15) to the population in the “working ages” (ages 15–64). Since the 1950s there have been severe restrictions in China for the rural population to move to cities, but the restrictions have been relaxed in the postMao decades. There is still a great gap in government provisions for urban residents and rural migrants. A population growth of 320% may have been overstated because of the wellknown problem of undercounting floating population in the 1990 census in China. For further discussion of floating population, see, for examples, Dudley L. Poston and Chengrong Charles Duan, “The Floating Population in Beijing, China: New Evidence and Insights from the 1997 Census of Beijing’s Floating Population”, paper presented at the annual meeting of the Population Association of America, New York City, New York, 25 March 1999; Jianfa Shen and Yefang Huang, “The Working and Living Space of the ‘Floating Population’ in China”, Asian Pacific Viewpoint 44, no. 1 (2003): 51–62. However, the definitions of the figures vary across countries for secondary and above in Figure 4 and degree-holders in Figure 5. In 2003, the Hong Kong government published a projection of manpower “2001based Manpower Supply Projection by Education Attainment”. The projection period is from 2003–2007.

416 Notes for pp. 108–124

9

10 11

12 13

See Tables 16, 17, Figure 9. We have also calculated the percentage of degreeholders out of working age population (between age 15 to 64), and out of population aged 25 and above. They are projected to be 19.5% and 20.9%, respectively, in 2031. In contrast, many notable higher education institutions in the US and the UK are privately funded. Note that there are substantial cultural differences between HK and the rest of China, and hence it takes longer for immigrants to assimilate. The cultural difference between New York and the rest of US is rather small. The intake of fee-paying PRC students is about 4% of the UGC approved quota this year and 8% in the following year. See also Richard Wong on the discussion on Hong Kong’s advantage over Shanghai. Yue-chim Richard Wong, “Shanghai: Another Hong Kong?”, paper presented at the conference organized by the Royal Institute of International Affairs on Market Reforms in China, Hong Kong and Other Catalysts for Change, London, 26 November 2002.

Chapter 5 1 2

3 4

5 6

7 8 9 10 11 12

Kit Chun Lam and Pak Wai Liu, Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 1998), 1. See Helen Siu, “Remade in Hong Kong: Weaving into the Chinese Cultural Tapestry,” in Unity and Diversity: Local Identities and Local Cultures, ed. Tao Tao Liu and David Faure (Hong Kong: The Hong Kong University Press, 1996), 177–197. See also Central Policy Unit, Hong Kong Identity and Social Cohesion (Hong Kong: Central Policy Unit, 2002). Helen Siu, “Immigrants and Social Ethos: Hong Kong in the 1980s,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society (1988): 1–14. One Country Two Systems Research Institute, Neidi jumin yiju Xianggang zhengce xianhuan de jiantao ji zhengce jianyi (Hong Kong: One Country Two Systems Research Institute, 2002), 4; Census and Statistics Department, Special Topics Report No. 15 (Hong Kong: Census and Statistics Department, 1997); Census and Statistics Department, Special Topics Report No. 22 (HKSAR: Census and Statistics Department, 1999). Cf. Lam and Liu, chap. 3; One Country Two Systems Research Institute, 73–79. See a recent booklet containing the stories of 12 middle-age women (many new arrivals) who live in the notorious “ghetto” of Tin Shui Wai. Their stories, sad as they are, convey their admirable efforts to survive in the challenging environment. See Chan Sik Chi, The Twelve Middle-Age Ladies of Tin Shui Wai (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Federation of Trade Unions and bbluesky, 2006). Lam and Liu, 33. Ibid., chap. 4. They were termed “recent immigrants,” in the 1991 and 1996 censuses. One Country Two Systems Research Institute, 23–32. Census and Statistics Department, Special Topics Report No. 8, 115–126. Lam and Liu, 29–33.

Notes for pp. 125–139 417

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

Census and Statistics Department, 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years (HKSAR: Census and Statistics Department, 2002), 40. See Helen F. Siu, Agents and Victims in South China: Accomplices in Rural Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989) on the plight of the Chinese villagers in the Maoist era. For the present tensions and the changing rural-urban divide, see Helen F. Siu, “Grounding Displacement: Uncivil Urban Spaces in South China,” American Ethnologist 34, no. 2 (May 2007): 329–350. As early as the 1980s, when I was conducting fieldwork in the Pearl River delta, it was easy to observe that most families used television antennas to receive signals from Hong Kong rather than Guangzhou. The younger generation began to speak a Hong Kong televisionized Cantonese (mixed with English terms), and young married couples, if they had the means, decorated their home in styles copied from Hong Kong television dramas. The internet in the recent decade has brought the two regions culturally closer in multiple ways. The Fujianese new immigrants are concentrated in North Point and Kennedy Town. The popular support of the Fujianese candidate in the Legislative Council, Choi So-yuk, is also indicative of ethnic/regional ties. In the summer of 2004, we visited several government departments. We were able to discuss some of the themes of our study with staff members responsible for policy, data collection and analyses; however we were not able to obtain detailed data on the finer regional spread of new arrivals. For non-government organizations, we interviewed staff members from Mission to New Arrivals Ltd., Caritas Mok Cheung Sui Kun Community Centre, International Social Service Hong Kong Branch, The Hong Kong Council of Social Service. They shared with us their varying missions and resources, and more importantly, their frontline experiences with new arrivals. Details of the conversations are as follows. A. Home Affairs Department: 9 July 2004 (Fri) 10:30, Frankie Lui Kinfun (then Assistant Director of Home Affairs); B. Social Welfare Department: 19 July 2004, 14:30, Cecilia Li (then Chief Social Work Officer (Family and Child Welfare)1), Cheung Tat-ming (then Senior Social Work Officer (Family )1); C. Mission to New Arrivals Ltd: 28 May 2004, 14:00, Rev. Li Kin Wah (deceased, then General Secretary); D. Caritas Mok Cheung Sui Kun Community Centre: 7 June 2004, 10:00, Wong Mei Kuen (then Social Work Officer); E. International Social Service Hong Kong Branch: 2 July 2004, 11:00, Iris Liu (then Director of Programme (Post-migration Service for New Arrivals)), Debby Chui Lan Cheung (then Director of Programme (Service to Prepare Mainlanders for Settlement in Hong Kong/Intercountry Casework); F. The Hong Kong Council of Social Service: discussion with Chua Hoi Wai, Business Director (Policy Research & Advocacy International & Regional Networking). We use Guangdong census data in 1990 because they were collected when the cohort of illegal immigrants returned to their native places to look for spouses and had children. As mentioned earlier, an official estimate in 2002 numbered mobile populations in the country as upwards of 120 million. Among the migrants, 42.42 million crossed provincial boundaries. Provinces with the most population outflows

418 Notes for pp. 140–145

20 21

22

23

24

25

are Sichuan, Anhui, Hunan, Jiangxi, Henan, and Hubei. Provinces with the most inflows are Guangdong (35.5%), Zhejiang (8.7%), Shanghai (7.4%), Jiangsu (6%), Beijing (5.8%), and Fujian (5.1%). See Nanfang Dushi Bao (7 Oct 2002, A11). See also the recent works of George Lin, Alan Smart, and Josephine Smart on cross-border traffic and emerging patterns of urbanization. Census and Statistics Department, Special Topics Report No. 35 (HKSAR: Census and Statistics Department). I have benefited from discussions with Dr. Paul Yip at The University of Hong Kong. See 2006 Population By-Census (Hong Kong SAR Government, February 2007); see also analyses in major newspapers (Sing Tao Daily, 23 February 2007; Ming Pao Daily, 23 February 2007, and 23 April 2007). See an in-depth study of cross-border marriages in post-1997 Hong Kong: Nicole Dejong Newendorp, Uneasy Unions: Immigration, Citizenship and Family Life in Post-1997 Hong Kong (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2008). According to recent population data, the number of expatriates in Hong Kong has dropped drastically in recent years. This is an alarming trend. Although reasons for expatriate populations to diminish are complex, it highlighted the issue of whether Hong Kong is competitive in drawing a diverse pool of global human talents. Singapore’s recent changes in immigration policy — the introduction of temporary immigration visas for those coming to the city to look for jobs, are seen as a positive step that Hong Kong should seriously consider (see Eldon speech, Bulletin, HKGCC, May 2007; see also speech by Richard Wong at the CEO conference, HKGCC, May 2007). See also Chen Zhiwu, interview with People’s Daily and Global Times, 29 June 2007. See the voluminous literature and policy statements arising from numerous policy conferences held in Hong Kong and Guangzhou since 2004. Spearheaded by Zhang Dejiang, Guangdong’s provincial party secretary, the Pan Pearl River Delta provides an ordering frame to include nine provinces and two major cities south of the Yangtze River. See also government and media reporting of the economic summit organized by the Special Administrative Region (SAR) government on 11 September 2006 in which the theme to link Hong Kong’s development to the 11th Five Year Plan of China was highlighted. See a sobering series of reports by a Chinese journalist, Fan Rongqiang, comparing Shunde, Zhongshan, Panyu, and Dongguan, in Xin Jingji (New Economy) Nos. 6, 10, 11, 12, 2003 (donews/article/5/52528.html). His observations are quite similar to mine gleaned from fieldwork. Integration and circulation can involve significant cultural exchanges. For example, an exhibition at the Guangzhou Museum of Art that I attended in late 2003, entitled “Souvenir from Canton: 18th and 19th century China Export Paintings from the Victoria and Albert Museum,” was professionally organized by the Victoria & Albert Museum, the Guangzhou Cultural Bureau, the British Council, and the History Department of Sun Yat-sen University, with Swire Properties and Cathay Pacific as major sponsors. The exquisite art pieces by Chinese and European painters in the last two centuries are about ordinary daily life — boats, porcelain, silk, tea, a hundred occupations, birds, and plants. The exhibit and the well-researched bilingual catalogue captured a deeply global

Notes for pp. 146–153 419

26

27

commercial culture in south China since the 18th century, focusing on Guangzhou and London, and later an integral part of Hong Kong and Shanghai. It was a moving experience because the exhibition and the underlying mutual respect among the artists and today’s organizers cut through so many of the institutional barriers and political rhetoric surrounding the Britain–Hong Kong– China experience. The open-minded crossing of boundaries was evident. See Daphne Berdahl, Where the World Ended: Re-Unification and Identity in German Borderland (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999) on theories about borders and their literal and metaphorical significance. See also Sandra Teresa Hyde, Eating Spring Rice: The Cultural Politics of AIDS in Southwest China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007). She highlights the material and discursive representation of AIDS by government agencies to show how prejudice, stigma, and cultural politics maintains a border and a target population. See James Holston ed., Cities and Citizenship (Durham NC; London: Duke University Press, 1999).

Chapter 6 1 2 3 4 5

6 7

8 9 10

As described by Lord Palmerston, British Foreign Secretary, in 1841: see Hong Kong 2002 (Government Printer, 2002), 432. Hong Kong Report 1997, 386. Secretary for Security, Policy Objective Booklet 2000. Hong Kong Report 2002, 419. Hong Kong Island was first ceded to Britain under the Treaty of Chuenpi, signed on 20 Jan 1841, and pursuant to this Convention, the Union Jack was first hoisted in Hong Kong on 26 Jan 1841. However, neither side accepted this Convention. China regarded the cession a shame and insult, whereas Britain found the island useless. It was in this context that Lord Palmerston made his famous remark that Hong Kong was a “barren rock”. He replaced Captain Elliot by Sir Henry Pottinger, who weathered hostilities with determination and concluded the hostilities by the Treaty of Nanking in August 1842. Interestingly, by this time the British Government was not interested in securing Hong Kong island, and instructed Pottinger to drop the demand for an island, but Pottinger deviated from his instructions and successfully demanded both a treaty and Hong Kong island: Hong Kong 2002, supra, n 1, ibid. G. B. Endacott, A History of Hong Kong, 2nd ed. (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1973), 65. G. B. Endacott and A. Hinton, Fragrant Harbour: A Short History of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1962), 33, 95; Endacott, supra, n 6, 23–24. This treaty dealt with many issues that were left to be settled under the Treaty of Nanking, such as tariff of customs duties, inland transit duties, trade regulations, exterritoriality, and the position of other Europeans. See “An Overview” at 151–153. Endacott, supra, n 6, 65. Speech of Sir John Pope Hennessy to the Legislative Council on 3 June 1881, comparing the census returns of 1876 with those of 1881, reproduced in Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 96–97.

420 Notes for pp. 153–157

11 12

13 14

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

23

24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

32

33 34 35

Quoted in Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 90. See table at 152. Podmore estimated the population at 165,000 at this time: see Podmore, “The Population of Hong Kong”, in K. Hopkins, ed., Hong Kong: The Industrial Colony (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1971), 21 at 23. Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 91. Ord No 19 of 1915. Part of this section draws upon the excellent article by A. Chen, “The Development of Immigration Law and Policy: The Hong Kong Experience”, McGill Law Journal (1988) 33(4), 631 at 636. Ord No 6 of 1916. See the first schedule to the Ordinance, ibid. Ord No 25 of 1717, ss 3(1), (2) and 4. Ord No 35 of 1923. Ord No 8 of 1935. Ibid, s 7. Ibid, ss 2 and 8. See also S. H. Kwok, “Inherent Contradictions and Inconsistencies in the Immigration Ordinance”, in J. Chan and B. Rwezaura eds. Immigration Law in Hong Kong: An Interdisciplinary Study (Hong Kong: Sweet & Maxwell Asia, 2004) (hereafter referred to as Chan and Rwezaura), chap. 7, para 7.14. Following the liberation of Hong Kong, the police resumed responsibility for immigration control. The present Immigration Department was established in 1961: see Hong Kong 1987 (Government Printer, 1988), 222. Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 94. Endacott, supra, n 6, 314–315. Endacott, supra, n 6, 310. Section 4(b), Immigrants Control Ordinance 1949. Hong Kong 1987, supra, n 28, 222. Ord No 37 of 1949, s 4(1), s 7, s 10, s 15. Ibid, s 12. Endacott, supra, n 6, 310; Hong Kong 1987, supra, n 28, 222; Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 95. Tong suggested that the quota system was imposed by the PRC in consultation with the British Government: Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 2, paras 2.04–2.05. This was most unlikely, given the protest made by the Foreign Ministry to the quota system on 8 May 1950 and the figure of exit permits issued in 1978 was as high as 310 per day. There was also no reason why the PRC should at that time agree to such a quota system, especially when the relation between Britain and China at that time was relatively tense as a result of the Korean War. See “One-Way Permit and the Quota System” at 162–163. As reported by Chen, supra, n 14, 640. Chen argued that the protest reflected the PRC view that Hong Kong was Chinese territory and therefore the Chinese had a right to enter Hong Kong without restriction: ibid. See also “From an Open Door Policy to an Exclusion Policy,” at 157–159. Endacott, supra, n 6, 316–317. Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 95. Ord No 34 of 1958.

Notes for pp. 157–159 421

36

37 38

39

40

41 42 43

There was an influx, on an unprecedented scale, of migrants from the Mainland who forced their way across the land frontier during April and May 1962. An emergency committee was established at the border, where immigrants were given meals, interrogated, documented and allowed to rest before they were returned to China. The influx reached its peak on 23 May, when 5,620 immigrants were arrested in the frontier area and 5,112 were returned to China. On 26 May, the Chinese authorities reinforced normal control measures and the influx ended as suddenly as it had begun. It was estimated that about 60,000 persons succeeded in entering into the colony during the six weeks’ period: see Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 95. Reg v Bhagwan [1972] AC 60 at 74, per Lord Diplock. It has been argued that a composite citizenship was inappropriate as it covered an immense variety of peoples of different standards of civilization and civil responsibilities: Lord Altrincham, Official Report (House of Lords), vol. 156, cols 995–996 (21 June 1948). It had even been suggested that there should be one form of citizenship for the United Kingdom and another one for the colonies. The British Government, however, supported the composite citizenship on the grounds that, inter alia, it recognized the right of the colonial peoples to be regarded as men and brothers with the people of the United Kingdom: see J. M. Evans, Immigration Law, 2nd ed. (Sweet and Maxwell, 1983), 59–60. See East African Asians v United Kingdom (1973) 3 EHRR 76. The case did not proceed to the European Court and was settled by the United Kingdom offering settlement of all East African Asians in the United Kingdom by a quota system. These East African Asians were, in the meantime, conferred the status of British Overseas Citizens, which did not give them a right of entry to the United Kingdom or her colonies. Most of them were received by the Indian Government pending their settlement in the United Kingdom. See s 2 of the Immigration Ordinance 1971. British subject was determined rather arbitrarily. For those who were born in Hong Kong, they were required to declare their nationality at the time of birth. If they claimed to be British, they became Hong Kong Belongers. If they claimed to be Chinese, they could only be Chinese Residents. Resident United Kingdom Belongers referred largely to British expatriates or CUKCs by reason of birth, adoption, naturalization or registration in the UK who had been ordinarily resident in Hong Kong for a continuous period of seven years or more. Their rights were similar to that of Chinese Residents, and were subject to deportation order, albeit on more narrow grounds than that applicable to Chinese Residents. See s 20 of the Immigration Ordinance 1971. Chen, supra, n 14, 646. A qualification to be made is that while the status of Hong Kong Belongers is largely determined by objective facts, the acquisition of the status of Chinese Residents is subject to the discretion of the immigration authorities to permit a person to enter into Hong Kong in the first place and the conditions to be imposed if permission to enter is granted. Hence, the status would depend on the legality of the person’s entry or stay under the relevant immigration laws and practice at the relevant times. See also S. H. Kwok, in Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 7, para 7.13.

422 Notes for pp. 159–163

44

45

46

47 48 49

50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63

In introducing the Bill to the Legislative Council, the Acting Attorney General said that “the power to refuse entry was not exercised arbitrarily at the whim of the Immigration Officer on duty; nor according to policies which may seem good to the Director of Immigration himself. The immigration policies of Hong Kong are determined by the Governor in Council and indeed the present ordinance recognizes this by requiring the Director and his staff to comply with all directives which the Governor may issue on this subject”. (1990–91) LegCo Proc 783–4 (21 July 1971). The policies determined by the Governor in Council were never publicly debated. T. Lui, “Undocumented Migration in Hong Kong”, a paper presented at the 6th Seminar on Adaptation and Integration of Immigrants, organized by the International Committee for Migration (Geneva, 11–15 April 1983), quoted by A. Chen, supra, n 14, 649. Hong Kong 1981 (Government Printer, 1982), 145. It appears that the requirement to gain a home or otherwise find proper accommodation was never strictly enforced such that anyone who managed to get to the urban area was permitted to stay. (1980–81) LegCo Proc 104 (23 Oct 1980). Ord No 62 of 1980. Although it was clear that the requirement to produce identity card on demand by the police was to curb illegal immigrants, it was subsequently held that this power could be invoked for purposes entirely unconnected with the investigation of illegal immigration or when the police officer had no reasonable belief that the suspect was an illegal immigrant: R v Fung Chi Wood [1991] 1 HKLR 754. Immigration Ordinance, s 53A. The ground of appeal was extremely limited: see “An Appeal Tribunal against the Exercise of Discretion,” at 184–186. (1980–81) LegCo Proc 103–105 (23 Oct 1980). Mak Yui Ming v Attorney General [1981] HKLR 435. Attorney General v Ng Yuen Shiu [1983] 1 HKC 23. See “The Discretionary Regime,” at 179–186. Clarke commented that this reached base policy was rigidly implemented: W. S. Clarke, “Hong Kong Immigration Control: The Law and the Bureaucratic Maze” (1986) 16 HKLJ 342 at 365. Endacott and Hinton, supra, n 7, 95; Endacott, supra, n 6, 310. See n 31 above and the attending text at 156. Clarke, supra, n 54, 360. (1979–80) LegCo Proc 45 (17 Oct 1979). The number in 1977 was 25,373. Ibid. (1981–82) LegCo Proc 309 (6 Jan 1982); (1986–87) LegCo Proc 167 (29 Oct 1986), 758 (21 Jan 1987), 828 (18 Feb 1987). See T. Tong, “Hong Kong’s Immigration Policy on Persons from Mainland China”, in Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 2, para 2.04. See Ho Hei Wah, “One-Way Permit”, in Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 4, paras 4.06, 4.10–4.11. “In 1995, 7,922 immigrants entered Hong Kong from countries other than China to join their spouses, 5,162 to join their parents, and 963 to join their sons and daughters, and all were granted residence visas. These 14,047 entrants were not subject to any quotas or long waits before they could enter Hong Kong for the

Notes for pp. 164–169 423

64

65 66

67 68 69 70

71

purpose of family reunion.” In the same year, 45,986 legal immigrants from the Mainland were admitted, (94.1% were for family reunion), and their waiting period ranged from less than one year to over 25 years: K. C. Lam and P. W. Liu, Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong, 1998), 145. Chinese nationality is essentially defined in terms of race. The first Chinese Nationality Act, which was forced upon the Tsing Dynasty by the Dutch, was enacted in 1907. For a more detailed discussion, see J. Chan, “Nationality”, in R. Wacks ed., Human Rights in Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1992), 470–508. Immigration (Amendment)(No 2) Ordinance 1987, Ord No 31 of 1987. S. H. Kwok criticized that the definition for de facto Hong Kong citizens was couched in terms of British nationality law even though the provision was meant to cater for the return of Hong Kong to China: see Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 7, para 7.20. This is a bit unfair, as the British Government would probably have no choice but to relate the concept to British nationality law, given that British nationality law would have to apply to Hong Kong until 30 June 1997. Art 24. Ord No 122 of 1997. Chan To Foon v Director of Immigration [2001] 3 HKLRD 109 at 116. Some of these men might well be those who came to Hong Kong shortly before the abolition of reached base policy. Mostly young male with low education level, they found it difficult to marry Hong Kong women. So after they had acquired the status of permanent residents in Hong Kong, they returned to the Mainland to get married. Thus, this pattern became more prevalent after 1985. K. E. Kuah-Pearce, “The Cultural Politics of Mainland Chinese Migration to Hong Kong”, in Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 12, at para 12.32.

72 Canada

1986

1987

1988

1989

Total

5,615

16,254

24,588

16,400

62,857

USA

7,742

7,411

11,777

12,800

39,730

Australia

4,441

5,208

7,846

10,900

28,395

UK

860

920

1,150

270

3,200

Others

331

205

456

1,630

2,622

18,989

29,998

45,817

42,000

136,804

Sources: Ming Pao, 13 April 1989. (The figure for 1989 covers only the period from January to March and is prior to the suppression of the students’ movement in China.) The number of people who left Hong Kong in 1990 was estimated at 62,000: Hong Kong 1991 (Government Printer, 1991), 375.

73

74

For instance, in the Consultant Report of the Basic Law Consultative Committee, the discussion on nationality focused predominantly on dual nationality and there was no discussion about Mainland born children of HKPR: see Basic Law Consultative Committee, Consultation Report, vol. 4 (Oct 1988). Ng Ka Ling v Director of Immigration [1999] 1 HKLRD 315 at 346. See also the discussion in Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 3.

424 Notes for pp. 170–180

75

76 77 78

79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87

88 89 90

91 92 93 94

Ord No 124 of 1997. Ho Hei Wah suggested (in Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 4, para 4.02) that the power to determine who has the right of abode in Hong Kong was relinquished in the late seventies when the British Government agreed with the PRC Government to abolish the reached base policy. This is not entirely accurate, as until the Immigration (Amendment) (No 3) Ordinance 1997, a one-way permit is not a necessary requirement to show that one is a Hong Kong Permanent Resident, which is still defined by reference to the British Nationality Act: see also Kwok, in Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 7. Ng Ka Ling v Director of Immigration [1999] 1 HKLRD 315 at 332. Ibid, 346, 348. This case is also controversial in the constitutional aspect. The Court held that it had jurisdiction to review the constitutionality of a resolution of the NPCSC, and this had attracted vigorous criticisms from the Mainland. For a detailed discussion, see J. Chan, H. L. Fu and Y. Ghai eds., Hong Kong’s Constitutional Debate: Conflict over Interpretation (Hong Kong University Press, 2000). Chan Kam Nga v Director of Immigration [1999] 1 HKLRD 304. Tam Nga Yin v Director of Immigration (2001) 4 HKCFAR 251. For the debates, see Chan, Fu and Ghai, supra, n 78. See “The Socio-EconomicPolitical Dimension,” at 186–193. Lau Kong Yung v Director of Immigration [1999] 3 HKLRD 778, at 805. Ibid, at 802. Ng Siu Tung v Director of Immigration [2002] 1 HKLRD 561 at 604–606. Ibid, at 628–637. Hong Kong 2002 (Government Printer, 2003), 421. Gladys Li, “Immigration and the Basic Law: Conjugating the Concept of Hong Kong Permanent Resident”, in Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 3, para 3.28. (2001) 4 HKCFAR 211. See Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 4. 2001

2002

2003

2004 (1st 4 months)

Received

26,165

23,489

20,844

7,518

Approved

23,089

20,716

18,841

7,078

Refused

1,004

540

606

160

Withdrawn/not further processed

2,253

2,413

1,357

501

Lau Kong Yung v Director of Immigration [1999] 3 HKLRD 778. See below. Chan To Foon v Director of Immigration [2001] 3 HKLRD 109 at 117. Ibid, 118. See, for example, R v Director of Immigration, ex parte So Kam Cheung (1994) 4 HKPLR 587 at 597 where Jones J remarked: “Indeed having regard to the facts in these three cases it is hard to imagine how much stronger the grounds have to be before the discretion is exercised. It is difficult to believe that the public interest will be served by sending the mother and the two children back to China, instead of maintaining the family unit in each case. Considerable family suffering is likely to result from a rigid enforcement of a harsh law.”

Notes for pp. 180–188 425

95 96

97 98 99

100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108

109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116

117 118 119 120 121 122 123

R v Director of Immigration, ex parte Ho Ming Sai (1993) 3 HKPLR 157 at 168. As S. H. Kwok pointed out in his admirable survey of the historical development of immigration law in Hong Kong, “the wide discretionary power to grant permission to enter and remain conferred by the statutes has been applied according to policy, rather than law”. See Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 7, para 7.16. Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 5, para 5.17. See, for example, Padfield v Minister of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food [1968] AC 997; Ho Choi Wan v Hong Kong Housing Authority, HCAL No 174 of 2002. Although the Bill of Rights Ordinance does not apply to immigration decisions, it may be worth noting that blanket discretion without any indication of how the discretion is to be exercised has been regarded to fall foul of the requirement of “prescribed by law” under the Bill of Rights: Chim Shing Chung v Commissioner of Correctional Services (1995) 5 HKPLR 570. See, for example, Ngo Thi Minh Huong v Director of Immigration, HCAL 137 of 1999. (2001) 4 HKCFAR 211 at 226. Aita Bahadur Limbu v Director of Immigration, HCAL 133 of 1999. (1993) 3 HKPLR 533 at 547. (1993) 3 HKPLR 157 at 167 and 168. (1993) 3 HKPLR 157 at 168. (1999) 2 HKCFAR 300, [1999] 3 HKLRD 778. [2001] 2 HKLRD 125. Eg, Jones J in R v Director of Immigration, ex parte Wong King-lung (1993) 3 HKPLR 253 at 276; Mortimer JA in Hai Ho-tak v Attorney General [1994] 2 HKLR 202 at 207; Cheung J in Chan Mei-yee v Director of Immigration [2000] HKEC 788. [1998] 2 HKC 405 at 419. Ibid, at 414. Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 12, paras 12.35–12.36. Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 9, para 9.38, citing Hokkanen v Finland (1995) 19 EHRR 139. [1999] 3 HKLRD 778 at 819. Ibid. Yip Chi-lin v Director of Immigration, Civ App No 144 of 1985 (4 Feb 1986). R v Director of Immigration, ex parte Chan Heung-mui (1993) 3 HKPLR 533 at 551, per Godfrey J; R v Director of Immigration, ex parte So Kam-cheung (1994) 4 HKPLR 587 at 597, per Jones J; see also Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 6, para 6.25. Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 5, para 5.16. (1993) 3 HKPLR 533 at 551. Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 13. Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 14. Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 11. [1999] HKLRD 315. Speech by the Acting Chief Secretary for Administration at the House Committee of the Legislative Council, 6 May 1999, reproduced in Chan, Fu and Ghai, supra, n 78, 271–273.

426 Notes for pp. 188–224

124 Ibid, at 273. For comparison, the total capital expenditure of the HKSAR Government for 1998–99 is $55 billion and the recurrent expenditure is $166.9 billion. 125 See, for example, the Government paper to the Legislative Council on the Assessment of Service Implication in relation to the Judgment of the Court of Final Appeal on the Right of Abode Issue, reproduced in Chan, Fu and Ghai, supra, n 78, 274–287. 126 Joint Statement by Hong Kong Human Rights Commission, Hong Kong Human Rights Monitor, Justice, and Society for Community Organization, 3 May 1999, reproduced in Chan, Fu amd Ghai, supra, n 78, 296–297. 127 See “One-Way Permit and the Quota System” at 162–163. 128 See SCMP, 27 Aug 2003. 129 Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 12, para 12.18. 130 Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 13, paras 13.26–13.28. 131 Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 12, para 12.18. 132 Chan and Rwezaura, ibid, chap. 11 para 11.16. 133 Lam and Liu, supra, n 63, 147. 134 Ibid, 133–136. 135 Ibid, 156–159. 136 Chan and Rwezaura, supra, n 22, chap. 2, paras 2.22–2.30. 137 The fertility rate in Hong Kong was at 1.2 children per couple, which is among the world’s lowest: see K. C. Lam and P. W. Liu, supra, n 63, Table 5.2 and 133.

Chapter 7 1

2

3 4 5

Business families are defined as immigrants to Canada as “business class immigrants”. To be defined as business class immigrants in the 1990s, they had to bring with them CAN $250,000 for investing in business. Basran and Zong (1999) surveyed Chinese and East Indian immigrants residing in British Columbia who were in professional positions. In terms of individual barriers, their study showed that 79 % of the participants indicated that speaking English as a second language was a factor that had influenced evaluation of their credentials and recognition of their work experience. Lam’s (1994, p. 365) slant on bilingualism differs. He argues that those who learn English may integrate better and stay in Canada. See the findings of Ley and Kobayashi (2005). The Taiwan government has rekindled interest in overseas Taiwanese youths’ returns by sponsoring summer visits.

Part III 1

This observation of Faure is particularly relevant in view of recent policy debates on “positive non-intervention.” See South China Morning Post “Tsang tosses out hands-off economic policy,” September 12, 2006; Wisers # 200609120270037. See also South China Morning Post “Has Tsang opened door to ‘positive intervention’?” September 24, 2006; Wisers # 200609240270016.

Notes for pp. 224–236 427

2

3

4

5 6

See David Faure, Colonialism and the Hong Kong Mentality (Hong Kong: Centre for Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, 2003). See also a series on Hong Kong culture and society, published by the Centre for Asian Studies and Oxford University Press (HK). See David Eldon, “Is Marginalization Really An Issue for Hong Kong?” Bulletin, Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce (July 2006). In answering a question after his keynote speech in an HSBC Guanxi seminar in London (September 20, 2006), he observed that companies doing business in China had registered in Hong Kong in order to make use of Hong Kong’s more transparent and professionally managed laws and procedures (www.realbusiness.co.uk/audio/ hsbc1.mp3, mounted on October 4, 2006). For historical parallels in the use of British commercial law to register companies in Hong Kong in the early twentieth century, see Stephanie Po Yin Chung, Chinese Business Groups in Hong Kong and Political Change in South China, 1900–25 (New York: St. Martin’s Press; London: Macmillan, 1998). See also David Faure, China and Capitalism: A History of Business Enterprise in Modern China (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2006). See Long Yingtai, “Wenhua zhengce yu gongmin shehui — Xianggang you shenmo keleng?” in a collection of articles by public intellectuals, Wenhua qiyi (Hong Kong: TOM (CUP Magazine) Publishing Ltd., 2004). See also Chan Kunchong, “Chengjiu yu shiwu,” in Wenhua qiyi, 38–56. In 2004, there were vigorous public debates on Hong Kong’s core values. See a recent publication by Christine Loh and Civic Exchange on the functional constituencies, Hong Kong: SCMP, 2006. See Long Yingtai, op cit., and Leo Ou-fan Lee, Xunhui Xianggang wenhua (In Search of Hong Kong Culture) (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2002).

Chapter 8 1 2

3 4 5

David Faure, Colonialism and the Hong Kong Mentality (Hong Kong: Centre of Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, 2003). Elizabeth Sinn, Power and Charity: The Early History of the Tung Wah Hospital, Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1989); Carl Smith, Chinese Christians: Elites, Middlemen, and the Church in Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1985). David Faure, China and Capitalism: A History of Business Enterprise in Modern China (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2006), 52–53. Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time (Boston: Beacon Press, 1957). There are no Hong Kong studies on the emergence of the professions as such. Some ideas may be gained from David Faure ed., A Documentary History of Hong Kong, Society (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1997), 280–283, and David Faure and Pui-tak Lee eds., A Documentary History of Hong Kong, Economy (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2004), 167–191. For background, see Xiaoqun Xu, Chinese Professionals and the Republican State, the Rise of Professional Associations in Shanghai, 1912–1937 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001).

428 Notes for pp. 237–248

6

7

8

9

10 11 12

13 14

15

Ming K. Chan, “Labour and Empire: The Chinese Labour Movement in the Canton Delta, 1895–1927” (Ph.D. thesis, Stanford University, 1975); and Tsai Jung-fang, Hong Kong in Chinese History: Community and Social Unrest in the British Colony, 1842–1913 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993). N. J. Miners, The Government and Politics of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1977), 127–128, and (1991), 141–142 show some of the changes in time. Tak-wing Ngo, “Industrial History and the Artifice of Laissez-Faire Colonialism,” in Tak-wing Ngo ed., Hong Kong’s History, State and Society under Colonial Rule (London: Routledge, 1990), 119–140. “Minutes with the delegation of the Hong Kong Association on May 3”, FO371/ 182418. Sir Patrick Reilly was a deputy under-secretary in the Foreign Office between 1960 and 1964. Faure and Lee, op. cit., 193–252. Faure (2003), op. cit., 195–240. Luk Hung-kay (Bernard Luk) and Wu Kin-ling, Educational Development in PostWar Hong Kong: Chronicles in Graphs (Hong Kong: Huafeng shuju, 1983), Table 2.10.2. This is almost exactly the same proportion which reported that English was their second language in the 1991 census, that is to say, 1,288,000 people out of a population of 5,169,000. See Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong, Hong Kong 1991 Population Census Main Tables, 1992?, n.p., 70–71. The figure suggests that universal compulsory education has not added to the proportion who could speak and write English. Liang Weixian and Chen Wenmin, Chuanbo fa xinlun (Hong Kong: Shangwu, 1995), 19. By 1988, it attracted 93 percent of all viewers. Innovation ceased and audience declined in the 1990s. See Chan Kai-cheung and Choi Po-king, “Communications and the Media,” in T. L. Tsim and Bernard H. K. Luk eds., The Other Hong Kong Report (Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 1989), 295. John Duncan, “Report on the commercial development of the port of Hong Kong,” in Hong Kong Government, Sessional Papers of the Legislative Council, 1924, cited in Faure and Lee, op. cit., 61–69.

Chapter 9 1

2

3 4

Whether or not the professions develop in this way depends crucially on how much autonomy the state grants them. See Gu (2001: 165–72) for a discussion of variations in state-profession relations and their implications for professional autonomy. I am grateful to Eva Hung for bringing this article to my attention. See Appendix 1 for additional information on the employment and demographic characteristics of the professional stratum. A main source of supply for the professions has become graduates from UGC-funded undergraduate programmes. But see Rossides (1998) for a jaundiced view of the contribution of the professions. For example, the Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce founded the Hong Kong Coalition of Service Industries (HKCSI) in 1990 with the objective of promoting the continuing development and competitiveness of Hong Kong’s

Notes for pp. 248–251 429

5

6

7

8 9

10

11

service industries including professional services. A Government Task Force on Services Promotion was established in 1995. In early 2002, the Government launched the Professional Services Development Assistance Scheme (PSDAS) to support projects to enhance the competitiveness of Hong Kong’s professional service sector. This is not to say that the professions have been ignored. Chan (1991: 65–68), Lethbridge (1978: 20) and Sinn (2003) have brief discussions of professionals in prewar Hong Kong. Professional flight in the late 1980s and early 1990s once attracted academic interest (Kwong 1990, Skeldon 1995). Academics have analyzed participation by professionals in Hong Kong’s governance structure and their orientations towards democratization (e.g., Davies 1989, Sing 2004, So 1999). Discussions of Hong Kong’s changing class structure refer to the professional stratum as part of an expanding new middle class (e.g., Lui 1997). There are accounts of the development of professional fields (e.g., Sweeting 2004), features of these fields (e.g., Sandor and Wilkinson 1996) and the contribution of business services providers to Hong Kong’s economy (e.g., Enright et al 1999). The term protectionism has analytically distinct meanings including practices restricting occupational competition, a tolerance of inept practitioners, and the defense of a profession’s control over a task domain from encroachment by other occupational groups. Another possible meaning is resistance to outsider scrutiny of performance. My main focus in this chapter is on the first of these meanings. An attachment to the Paper for the Legislative Council, House Committee meeting on 28 May 2004 (Report of the Bills Committee on Inland Revenue (Amendment) Bill 2000 LC Paper No. CB(1)1927/03–04), lists 37 statutory bodies established by legislation to register and recognize professional qualifications and status or grant permits or licences for practising in a profession, trade or occupation. This list excludes licencing requirements of bodies such as the Securities and Futures Commission, which specifies nine regulated activities for which SFC licencing is required. Appendix 2 reviews estimates of the number of professional bodies in Hong Kong. My interviewees included officers and/or staff of the relevant professional associations. I also interviewed academics and other experts knowledgeable about the professions generally or about specific professions. I am most grateful to these interviewees for their cooperation. There are alternative paths to student registration. Many will be holders of a recognized local or overseas accountancy degree. Local graduates of approved accountancy programmes come from non-UGC funded as well as UGC-funded programmes. There are also provisions for non-accountancy degree graduates (completion of a Conversion Programme) and sub-degree holders who have to obtain the Hong Kong Association of Accounting Technicians (HKAAT) qualification and complete a Foundation Programme. HKICPA has had mutual recognition agreements with a number of overseas accountancy bodies including the ACCA. In conjunction with its recent process of rebranding, the HKICPA decided that any renewal of mutual recognition

430 Notes for pp. 251–258

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

agreements expiring on 30 June 2005, would be subject to assessment of whether qualifying criteria of these overseas bodies match those of the HKICPA Qualification Programme. On 30 June 2005, the existing unilateral recognition of the qualification of these overseas accountancy bodies ceased. Only holders of a practising certificate or a corporate practice/firm registered under the Professional Accountants Ordinance can hold appointment or render services as an auditor of a company under the Companies Ordinance. The HKICPA’s Code of Ethics for Professional Accountants states that a member is entitled to charge his client an agreed fee for his services, or in the absence of any agreement a fee calculated by reference to the custom of the profession. The rules specified the maximum size of signboards only for individual doctors so that group practices were not covered. It was reported in August 2004 that the Medical Council was proposing limits for the size of signboards for group practices and had sent them to major doctors’ groups for comment. The proposal is that “shared” signboards for a group practice with two doctors be limited to 20 square feet, and for three or more doctors to 30 square feet. The Ethics Committee chairman is reported to have said that doctors “find that they are not on a level-playing field with those big medical groups” that had put up big signboards (“It”s a Sign of the Times”, South China Morning Post 2004). The Medical Council statistics on disciplinary cases it handled from 1999 to 2003 shows that of 350 complaints received in 2003, 68 involved advertising/ canvassing (Medical Council 2004). Certain restrictions in the code of professional conduct for medical practitioners have recently been challenged by the assistant medical superintendent of the Hong Kong Sanatorium and Hospital who initiated a judicial review. Justice Anselmo Reyes ruled in August 2006 that certain passages in the Medical Council’s code on professional conduct violated free speech provisions of the Basic Law and Article 16 of the Hong Kong Bill of Rights Ordinance but he did not overturn the rules (“Advert Ban”, South China Morning Post 2006). The Attorney-General’s 1995 Consultation Paper on Legal Services recommended amending the criteria for admission as a barrister to bring them in line with the General Agreement on Trade in Services (GATS). Foreign lawyers cannot enter into partnerships with a Hong Kong solicitor to practise Hong Kong law, but firms in association are permitted to share premises, personnel and facilities. Lawyers can be held personally liable for negligence by a fellow partner. It was reported in 2004 that solicitors and accountants had been lobbying the government to allow a change in partnership structures that would limit their liability due to “growing anxiety in the professions that just one ‘mega-lawsuit’ could wipe out entire practices” (“Lawyer, accountants”, South China Morning Post 2004). The exceptions currently include Instructions from Patent and Trade Mark Agents; Instructions from the Duty Lawyer Service; provision of advisory service at centres of the Duty Lawyer Service; the Scheme for Pro Bono work; advisory service to the Medical, Dental and Chiropractors’ Councils and the Veterinary Surgeons Board and other tribunals or bodies exercising judicial or quasi-judicial

Notes for pp. 258–259 431

20

21

22

23

functions as established by statute and the Licensing Appeals Board Instructions from foreign lawyers. In September 1996, in an attempt to fend off the abolition of scale fees for conveyancing, the Law Society proposed that new scale fees should be fixed by the Costs Committee at a level 30 percent below the existing level and including a cap on the fees depending on the classification of the property (Sandor and Wilkinson 1996: viii–lix). When the Legal Services Legislation (Miscellaneous Amendments) was introduced into LegCo that included a provision to render the conveyancing scale fee non-binding, the Law Society initiated an amendment which would in effect have prevented contracting out of the mandatory scale. This proposal was defeated on the casting vote of the President of LegCo. The Law Society has however set up a Working Party on Conditional and Contingency Fees to study the systems in civil disputes resolution in other jurisdictions and to consider their suitability for Hong Kong (The Law Society of Hong Kong 2003: 61). Issues relating to the cost of legal services were considered by the Chief Justice’s Working Party on Civil Justice Reform (2003: 376–95). Their Interim Report had four proposals to increase costs transparency, three of which are noted here. The first proposal was that rules should be adopted requiring solicitors and barristers (1) to disclose to their clients full information as to the basis on which they will be charged fees; (2) to provide them with the best available estimates as to the amount of fees they are likely to be charged for litigation; and (3) to update or revise such information and estimates if they change, with reasons given for any such changes. The second proposal was to take steps to ensure that the public is given access to information regarding barristers and solicitors relevant to the choice of legal representation in connection with litigation including information on fees, expertise and experience to be made available by the professional associations concerned or in some other manner. The third proposal was that steps be taken to compile benchmark costs for use in Hong Kong. After considering responses to the Interim Report, the Working Party recommended adoption of the first proposal. The Working Party noted there were “strongly divergent views” regarding the second proposal and recommended that further consultation should be undertaken by the Chief Justice on whether rules permitting the publication by barristers of information about their fees are desirable. With regard to compiling benchmark costs, the Working Party recommended a “less ambitious course,” of collating and publishing information on fees and costs derived from such sources as awards made on taxation. Practice promotion is defined as the marketing by whatever method of that solicitor, his practice or his firm or the professional legal services offered by him or it. It includes any exposure, whether or not paid for, in any public medium, the issue of any publication or communication (including orally) in any medium to any client, prospective client or the public generally which has the character of an advertisement or promotional material, any public appearance, and any contact with a prospective client initiated by or on behalf of the solicitor. Sandor and Wilkinson (1996: 69) note the change was influenced

432 Notes for pp. 259–260

24

25

26

27

28

by developments in England and comment that “It is far more liberal than any previous regime in Hong Kong, although it is not as free as in some other jurisdictions.” The 1995 Consultation Paper on Legal Services noted that the legal profession, like many other professions, had traditionally placed restrictions through practice rules or codes of conduct on the freedom of its members to inform the public about the services they offer and the prices they charge. It recommended that the only restriction on advertising and promotion by lawyers should be that it must not be false, misleading or deceptive. Restrictions based on subjective criteria should be removed. Also deleted was reference to practice promotion which is inappropriate “to the best interests of the solicitors’ profession.” Law Society of Hong Kong, Circular 314/96, 25 November 1996. Practice promotion shall not (a) be likely to mislead or deceive, whether by inclusion or omission; (b) contain any adverse remark or implication concerning any other solicitor or solicitors, in particular in any comparison of services, practice or fees; (c) make any claim or imply that the solicitor is, or that his practice is or includes an expert in any field of practice or generally. It is permissible, however, to refer to his knowledge, qualifications, experience or area(s) of practice provided that such a claim can be justified; (d) identify any client or any item of any client’s business without the prior written consent of the client; (e) be defamatory; (f) refer to the solicitor’s success rate; (g) imply that a solicitor can obtain results by improper means; (h) be intrusive, offensive or otherwise inappropriate having regard, among other things, to the manner, medium or frequency of approach, or surrounding circumstances; (i) be calculated or likely to take advantage of the weak or weakened mental, physical or emotional state of the recipient or intended recipient; (j) take place in or in the immediate vicinity of a court, police station or place of detention in relation to a person who has been or may be charged with, or has been convicted of, any offence; (k) be directed at a person who has made known a desire not to be contacted; (l) be in any manner which may reasonably be regarded as having the effect of bringing the solicitors’ profession into disrepute; (m) be inappropriate having regard to the best interests of the public; (n) breach any other code of advertising practice for the time being in force which applies to solicitors. There are exceptions when such advertising is permitted, e.g. an appropriate nameplate outside the premises at which a firm of solicitors practices, the name and/or logo of a firm of solicitors on clothing worn at a sporting event by members of a team entered by the firm and their bona fide organizers and officials. There are however special rules relating to advertisement on the occasion of change of professional chambers, return to practice or opening a new set of chambers. HKIA’s accredited/recognized school list includes the Master of Architecture of The University of Hong Kong and The Chinese University of Hong Kong, the National Architectural Accrediting Board (USA), the Commonwealth Association of Architects and The National Board of Architectural Accreditation of the PRC.

Notes for pp. 261–264 433

29

30 31 32

33

34

35

36

37

38

The Hong Kong Institute of Architects, The Code of Professional Conduct as revised 18 January 1995 and Agreement between Client & Architect & Scale of Professional Changes, revised ed. September 2000. The Hong Kong Institute of Architects, Agreement between Client & Architect & Scale of Professional Charges, 1998 revised September 2000. The stages are: A – inception; B – feasibility studies; C – outline schematic proposals; D – project design; E – contract documents, F – building construction. The fees and charges are seen as minima since it is recognized that fee schedules may not be suitable in all circumstances, in which case higher fees and charges may be agreed between the client and architect when the architect is commissioned. There are also minimum hourly rates (which vary depending on status) and minimum charges specified for some other services. If for any reason partial services only are performed, a different scale applies depending on the type of building They can apply to become a member of the Institute under the cooperation agreement with The Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors (UK), and reciprocity Agreements with the Australian Property Institute (since 1994), The Singapore Institute of Surveyors and Valuers (since 1997), New Zealand Property Institute (since 2003), and China Institute of Real Estate Appraisers (since 2003). Before members of these bodies can become corporate members of the HKIS they must pass a written paper on “Legal Framework and Cadastral Systems,” a professional interview and have one year of relevant local experience (except that a member of RICS does not have to wait one year). The nature of the Work Stages is however defined differently than those for architecture. See Professional Charges for Building Surveying Services (1998), Building Surveying Division of HKIS, adopted with permission of a similar publication by RICS, UK. In the case of a cadastral survey (boundary determination, boundary reestablishment, boundary setting out, rectification, etc.), the scales vary for a Field Survey Party (comprising one surveyor, three survey chainmen or workmen and the driver) ($10,120 per day) and a small house survey ($14,630 for a single house, $6,820 per house if a block of houses). Office work including the data analysis and processing, computation and plan production are charged at lower daily rates (e.g. $6,430 per day for office work related to a cadastral survey) Scale of Professional Charges for Land Surveying Services in Hong Kong (1996, 3rd ed), prepared jointly by Land Surveying Division of HKIS and the Land Surveying Committee of RICS (Hong Kong Branch). Inclusive Scale of Professional Charges for Quantity Surveying Services for Building Workers in Hong Kong (1994, 1st ed), jointly with RICS (Hong Kong Branch). Scale of Professional Charges for General Practice Services in Hong Kong (1995). In October 2004, HKIS is in the process of revising scales for GP, LS and QS. Communication from Secretary-General, HKIS, 27 October 2004. Under the Ordinance, the qualification for registration is closely linked with the qualification standard for membership of the HKIE but HKIE membership is not a prerequisite for registration. Membership of an engineering body which is

434 Notes for pp. 264–267

39 40

41 42

43

accepted by the Board as being of a standard not less than that of a Member of the HKIE within a discipline may also be acceptable, provided that other conditions are also met including that the applicant is ordinarily resident in Hong Kong and at least one year relevant post-qualification professional experience in Hong Kong. Only two persons have qualified through this route since it was added in 1996. For example, one of the objects of the HKIE is “to discourage dishonourable conduct and practices arising in the engineering profession.” One object of the HKIA is “to maintain the integrity and status of and discourage dishonourable conduct and practices in the architectural profession” and for the HKICPA to “discourage dishonourable conduct and practices by professional accountants.” One of the aims of the Bar Association is the “prescribing of rules of professional conduct, discipline and etiquette.” The aims of the Law society include to “promote high standards of work and ethical practice in the profession” and to “ensure compliance with the law and rules affecting solicitors.” The creation of a Medical Council for regulating medical practitioners followed the British model. The phrase “in theory” is used since this self-regulatory power is not absolute. The Government can exert pressure on the professions to upgrade standards of professional competence and performance, to improve transparency and accountability of their regulatory and disciplinary practices and to alter practices that are deemed not to be in the public interest through a process of consultation with various parties including the professional bodies concerned. One example is the remarks by the then Attorney-General Jeremy Mathews, in a speech to accountants on 15 October 1988, threatening government intervention if the profession did not shape up. “Public interest considerations . . . may even demand of you as a profession, changes in attitudes and professional practices. This may result in your Society initiating changes through your own professional committees, or it may require changes of a more formal character which can only be brought about by regulation imposed from without by government” (quoted in Vittachi 1999: 99). The Government itself becomes part of the regulatory system when it establishes its own registration bodies to determine whether a professional is qualified to perform certain types of work or duties such as the AP system under the Buildings Ordinance. The Government can change the way it does business with the professions and in doing so impact on professional practices. See Krause (1996: 79–122) for an overview, from a comparative perspective, of the broader context of the relationship between the “amateur state” and the professions in Britain. He identifies some of the key features of the British case as follows: “Dominant regulatory mechanisms of the state invoke the adviceand-consent model, with the relevant state ministries consulting with the ‘affected interests’ — the professions, for example. The ‘qualifying associations’ that register the professionals in each field are in the private sector, performing what are public functions in most other nations, and they also act as lobbies. The state does not control the training slots of professions, except indirectly through funding to some university programs, and does not control professional

Notes for pp. 267–269 435

performance at work except, again, indirectly through the impact of funding decisions. Parliamentary commissions […] recommend changes in professional conditions and behavior” (Krause 1996: 82) … This institutional framework has been largely replicated in Hong Kong, with the exception of the last point about the role of parliamentary commissions. The Government’s appointment of outside consultants to conduct studies and recommend reforms might be considered a functional equivalent. 44 The key provision was Article 142 of the Basic Law: “The Government of the HKSAR shall, on the basis of maintaining the previous systems concerning the professions, formulate provisions on its own for assessing the qualifications for practice in the various professions. Persons with professional qualifications or qualifications for professional practice obtained prior to the establishment of the HKSAR may retain their previous qualifications in accordance with the relevant regulations and codes of practice. The Government of the HKSAR shall continue to recognize the professions and the professional organizations recognized prior to the establishment of the Region, and these organizations may, on their own, assess and confer professional qualifications. The Government of the HKSAR may, as required by developments in society and in consultation with the parties concerned, recognize new professions and professional organizations” (Chan and Clark 1991: 198). Dr. Leong Che-hung, who was a member of the Basic Law Consultative Committee, reportedly “proudly hails his successful campaign to have professional autonomy written into the miniconstitution as one of his achievements” (“’Golden Knife’”, South China Morning Post 2004). 45 The following remark about the professional bodies of solicitors and barristers probably applies to other self-regulatory professions as well: “The two professional bodies jealously guard such a power [to set their own requirements for admission to the profession subject to the approval of the Chief Justice] and regard it as an essential element of being a profession. They argue that it is self evident that a profession should have power to decide what should be required of any person seeking entry to it” (Redmond and Roper 2001: 81). 46 Current policy is that application for permission to enter (or remain) in Hong Kong for employment may be favourably considered if: (a) there is no security objection and the applicant has no known record of serious crime; (b) the applicant has a good education background, normally a first degree in the relevant field, but in some special circumstances, good technical qualifications, proven professional abilities and/or relevant experience and achievement supported by documentary evidence; (c) the applicant has a confirmed offer of employment, is employed in a job relevant to his/her academic qualifications or working experience that cannot be readily taken up by the local workforce; and (d) the remuneration package including income, accommodation, medical and other benefits is broadly commensurate with the prevailing market level for professionals in Hong Kong. When assessing the application, the criteria considered by Immigration include (a) whether there is a genuine vacancy for an employee in Hong Kong; (b) what skills, knowledge and experience are needed for the job; (c) whether the terms and conditions of employment are

436 Notes for pp. 270–273

47

48

49

50

51

comparable to those in the local market; (d) whether the applicant’s qualifications and experience are relevant to the job; and (e) whether the job can be filled locally. The employing companies may be required to satisfy the Immigration Department that they have made genuine efforts to recruit local candidates but without success. The Immigration Department will also consult experts within and outside the government, professional institutions/organizations in the related field, etc., on individual cases where necessary. Each application is considered on its individual merits. (Information provided by the Immigration Department, August 2004). A proposal included in a draft of the Medical Registration (Amendment) Bill but later dropped would have empowered the Medical Council to accredit any medical education programme, in Hong Kong or elsewhere, or any examination in medicine, surgery and midwifery set by a licencing body outside Hong Kong if the Council were satisfied with its standard. (The actual phrasing was “that the completion of such programme or the passing of such examination shows the achievement of a standard not lower than that achieved by the passing of the Licensing Examination.”) Had this provision been included in the final version of the bill, graduates of recognized non-local medical education programmes would no longer have to sit examinations in order to practise in Hong Kong. The Medical Council wanted this section of the draft bill deleted to “avoid possible political pressure” if it were given too much discretion over recognition of medical institutions outside Hong Kong. (Proceedings of the Legislative Council 28 July 1995: 6430). Over 90 percent of the candidates participating in the Licensing Examination which took place in 1996 were from Taiwan or China. Legislative Council, Panel on Health Services, Minutes of Meeting of 21 March 1997. LegCo Paper No. CB(2)1769/96–97. His concern was that such remarks by the Administration might be used as an argument to dispute the need for a local externship training and a licentiate examination for non-locally qualified medical practitioners who want to practise in Hong Kong (Legislative Council, Bills Committee on Legal Practitioners (Amendment) Bill 1999. Minutes of the third meeting held on Monday, 28 February 2000. LC Paper No. CB(2)2548/99–00, p. 6). See also the remarks two years earlier by Professor Felice Lieh Mak on the uniqueness of medical care in Hong Kong (Legislative Council, Panel on Health Services, Minutes of Meeting held on Friday, 21 March 1997, 3–4). A long-term solution to the decline in intake quality would be to widen the recruitment net for professional training programmes by raising the standards for admission and opening up competition for admission to the best and the brightest graduates from non-local universities (as has occurred in the case of admission into the PCLL programme at The University of Hong Kong). They attributed this situation to the culture of the medical profession and the colonial system. As they put it in their Executive Summary, the “leaders of organized medicine in Hong Kong are largely graduates of one medical school and have close professional ties to other commonwealth nations. As a result, their professional education and beliefs tend to be similar, creating close professional loyalties and collective defenses against criticism. This situation

Notes for pp. 273–275 437

52

53

54 55

56

has been further exacerbated by the fact that colonial powers commonly rule through the local elite, who decide on policies and programmes; the general public, lacking influence and substantive input, depend on the good intentions of the elite. This legacy continues in Hong Kong where there is little transparency or public input in assuring quality of health care, and raises a fundamental question: are the interests of patients and the public best served by the current system?” They did not accept the medical profession’s argument that the Medical Council, professional indemnity claims or peer review mechanisms provided effective checks and balances. It should be noted that the medical profession objected strongly to the Harvard team’s argument that the variable quality of health care could be attributed to a closed, colonial, elitist medical profession. Examples include continuing professional education for medical practitioners, developing ways to facilitate continuous quality improvement, clinical protocols, a system of clinical supervision, regular peer review and clinical audit, and risk management. A review in the mid-1990s of the opportunities for the Hong Kong professions in China noted how differences in the ways the professions were defined, organized, regulated, and practised in the two places, as well as the nature of national/local government requirements for setting up offices and firms, would pose challenges for Hong Kong professionals and professional firms hoping to enter the China market. See Chan (1996) for a discussion of the situation with specific reference to accountants, architects, bankers, engineers and lawyers. Gu (2001) on the basis of his study of three professional communities in China — accountants, lawyers and journalists — concludes that the “state-profession relationship in China is in transition, and it now occupies a stage between state socialism and state corporatism. On the one hand, the majority of professional organizations are state-owned, and some of them are still government-subsidized. The state still assumes most regulatory duties concerning the profession, and in some cases imposes rigorous control over professional activities. On the other hand, private professional organizations have emerged and their number is growing. The construction of community-based regulatory systems and the transition from the state’s administration of professions to systems of collegial self-governance are also underway. Professionalism and commercialism have replaced political commitment as the new principles dominating professional activities. In brief, professional autonomy is developing, although the pace of such development is still slow.” He notes the growth of professional autonomy in China was most advanced in accounting (the professional body had taken over many regulatory duties from a government body), least advanced in the mass media sector (a politically sensitive area), with the legal services sector falling somewhere in between. See Appendix 4 for details. I was informed that about 40 percent of the members of the HKIS work for the Hong Kong Government. By contrast, as of October 2004, only 8 percent of the members of the HKICPA worked in the public sector (HKICPA 2004: 21). In September 2004, an accountant who had qualified overseas lodged a complaint with COMPAG alleging that the HKICPA’s requirement to pass an Aptitude Test to be admitted as a member of the HKICPA, and to pass the Practising

438 Notes for pp. 275–332

57

58

59

60

61

Certificate (PC) Examinations before he could be issued with a PC was anticompetitive. COMPAG forwarded his complaint to the Financial Services and the Treasury Bureau (FSTB). FSTB subsequently advised that the rationale for both the Aptitude Test and the PC Examinations was reasonable but did raise a question about the inconsistency in waiving the Aptitude Test requirement for some classes of applicants but not others (Competition Policy Advisory Group: 27). See the essays in Loh (2006) that discuss how the functional constituency (FC) representatives in LegCo including those from the professions define their role, not surprisingly, primarily as that of protecting and promoting the particular interests of their respective constituencies. The interests of a professional constituency are not of course homogeneous so that FC representatives for the professions have sometimes come under criticism from within their constituency for promoting the interests of a particular group or interest within their profession. If the focus were on size of membership of these bodies, the rankings would change. A survey conducted by the Hong Kong Transitions Project in February 1996 asked respondents about their membership of various types of bodies. Some 10.2 percent reported being a member of professional organizations. This was higher than the 9.4 percent who reported belonging to a trade union (cited in Lo 1997: 196). It draws its working definition of professional associations from British Qualifications, 26th edition as those having the following aims (it explicitly excludes associations whose primary objective is to promote trade): (1) qualify individuals to act in a certain professional capacity; (2) safeguard high standards of professional conduct; (3) give their members an opportunity to keep abreast of a particular discipline or to undertake further study in it; (4) look after the interests of the practitioners in any particular profession. Some of those reported as founded in the 1950s would have predated the Second World War though not necessarily using their prewar name. The Hong Kong Medical Association, for example, was founded in 1920 as the Hong Kong Chinese Medical Association. It lists what this expertise is in some detail.

Chapter 11 1 2

3

Details see Global Entrepreneurship Monitor: Hong Kong and Shenzhen 2003, online at http://www.baf.cuhk.edu.hk/research/gem/GEM2003-figure.pdf. Details see: Census and Statistics Department, Special Topics Report No. 36 — Casual Employment and Self-employment (Hong Kong: HKSAR Government Printer, 2003). The GEM Hong Kong project was conducted by a team from The Chinese University of Hong Kong and led by Professor Chua Bee-Leng, Department of Management. Its research includes two main parts, i.e. Adult Population Survey and Expert Interviews. In 2003, GEM telephone interviewed 2,000 adults in Hong Kong and conducted 25 one-hour, face-to-face interviews with government

Notes for pp. 335–355 439

4

5

officials, business people and academics on strengths, weaknesses and recommendations for improving entrepreneurship in Hong Kong. From 2003, the team also jointly worked with a team in Shenzhen, thus providing a comparison between entrepreneurial activity in Hong Kong and Shenzhen. Reports can be seen at http://www.baf.cuhk.edu.hk/research.gem. The territory-wide Social Indicator Survey has been conducted biennially since 1988. It is a long-term collaborative project undertaken by researchers at The University of Hong Kong, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, and the Hong Kong Polytechnic University. The focus of the survey is on subjective indicators. And its target population comprises adults aged 18 or above who are living in Hong Kong. It is worth noticing that each survey expresses its own concern of the time. Therefore, questions related to entrepreneurship may not be asked at every survey. The Census and Statistics Department (C&SD) started a series called the Thematic Household Survey in 1999 in order to meet the demand on statistical data on social issues from various policy institutions. The survey itself is often contracted out to private research firms, but data processing and analysis were done by the C&SD. In the 2000 survey on employment concerns, some 8,100 households were successfully enumerated, constituting a response rate of 73%. In the 2002 survey, 8,000 households responded, representing a 72% response rate. Also, in these households, all persons aged 15 and over were classified economically active, and thus sought for opinions.

Chapter 12 1

2 3 4 5

6

As Scott points out, “… capitalism itself is moving into a phase in which the cultural forms and meanings of its outputs become critical if not dominating elements of productive strategy, and in which the realm of human culture as a whole is increasingly subject to commodification, i.e. supplied through profitmaking institutions in decentralized markets. In other words, an ever-widening range of economic activity is concerned with producing and marketing goods and services that are infused in one way or another with broadly aesthetic or semiotic attributes” (1977: 323). The Metroplan aims to cater for Hong Kong’s role as an international city competing with other Asian cities. See www.hplb.gov.hk/wkcd/eng/public_consultation/intro.htm. Hong Kong Arts Development Council (2000), par. 29. The fact that West Kowloon was also pitched (by the former Hong Kong Tourism Association) as a larger version of Lan Kwai Fong concluded well the ruling elite’s thoughts about what Hong Kong needs back then, even during days of comparative prosperity: a beacon that reaps economic rewards and not a cultural identity or an artefact of civil society. Before that, the ruling authorities did not intend the reclamation to be the centre of an events capital per se in the first place. Incidentally, the West Kowloon Reclamation was part of the Airport Core Programme, or what was more commonly known as the “Rose Garden” infrastructure projects initiated by the

440 Notes for pp. 356–367

7

8

9 10 11 12

colonial authorities to becalm a local population clamouring for British right-ofabode after Beijing’s bloody clampdown on Tiananmen Square in 1989. The original planning and urban design studies the government undertook for the West Kowloon Reclamation in 1992 included an extensive examination on the impact of the reclamation on “the existing West Kowloon hinterland” — an area of 1,000 hectares which reaches all the way to Cheung Sha Wan, Shek Kip Mei and Tsim Sha Tsui East (Territory Development Department 1992: 3). In setting up the urban design framework for the West Kowloon Reclamation, the study stresses on the impact the newly developed area would have on the existent “hinterlands”, with the reclamation existing not solely as a detached satellite town, but more as an urban appendage that provides “structural open spaces”, “city gateways” and also enhances “the harbour as a focus and visual influence” (ibid.: 21). The government did not even bother to undertake measures to reach out to the public as those in 1999 when it proposed to scrap the municipal councils and install a new administrative framework for arts, cultural and sports facilities. During the consultation exercise in 1999, five public forums were held: one with the arts and cultural sector, one with the sports sector, and three with district board members; the public was notified of these hearings through advertisements in the press, and more than 1,500 invitation letters were sent out to groups. In addition, members of the Legislative Council’s Home Affairs panel and Provisional Urban Councillors were also granted an audience by officials in charge of the shake-up. See www.ppwk.org/aboutus.html. Ibid. Ibid. p. 53. Ibid. p. 67.

Chapter 13 1

2 3

4

Chen Yonghai, “Xinjie weicun yu shequ Xiangxiang,” in Chen Jiehua ed., Pipan shikao, chuangyi jiaoxue: Xianggang shequ jiaoyu (Hong Kong: Centre of Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, 2004). Hung Ho-fung, Rethinking the Hong Kong Cultural Identity: The Case of Rural Ethnicities (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1998). Xiao Xi, “Sheide Sheide Chengshi,” Jijin Luntan 2 (1998). Akil Gupta and James Ferguson eds., Culture, Power, Place: Explorations in Critical Anthropology (Durham: Duke University Press, 1997). Liu Tik Sang and Cheung Siu Woo, “Reference Community: Anthropological Experience of Research, Teaching and Friendship in Tai-O, Hong Kong,” in Sidney C. H. Cheung ed., On the South China Track: Perspectives on Anthropological Research and Teaching (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1998). Keesing, Roger M., “Creating the Past: Custom and Identity in the Contemporary Pacific,” The Contemporary Pacific, 1989, vol. 1, nos. 1 and 2, 19–42.

Notes for pp. 368–372 441

5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

20

21 22

23 24 25

26 27 28 29

The origin of the description of Tai O as “Venice of Hong Kong” is not yet dated but is probably from an earlier post-War era. “Da’ao ni chongxin baozhuang, fazhan yi yucun wei zhuti lüyou dian,” Ta Kung Pao, 21 March 2000, A11. “Fanxin Angping yingfang, zhengqu Da’ao jian xinju, Qingnian Lüshe qiang zuo youke diyizhan,” Hong Kong Economic Times, 14 January 2002, A22. “500 Da’ao ren baowei teshou yaoqiu chengren zuye yuandi chongjian,” Apple Daily, 4 July 2000, A06. “Chong jian po huai sheng tai chai peng wu kong shi jia yuan, da ao ju min shi kang zheng fu bao cun,” Tin Tin Daily News, 23 April 2000, A08. “Da ao ju min ni chou 460 wan chong jian peng wu,” Hong Kong Economic Times, 9 September 2000, A26. Jia Zai Shuixiang, videorecording, TVB, c2003, 11:43. “Da ao yu huo chong sheng hua zuo huan bao zhong xin,” Mingpao, 31 July 2000, A02. “Chong zhi Da’ao hongshu Yuhuchu ya pi,” Oriental Daily News, 24 March 2001. Ibid. Da’ao Shetuan: Wei zhengqu gaishan difang huanjing yijian shu, 1985. Liu and Cheung, op. cit., 234. James Hayes, The Hong Kong Region 1850–1911: Institutions and Leadership in Town and Countryside (USA: Archon, 1977), 85. Liu and Cheung, op. cit., 234, 230, 231, 235. Emily Chan Mee Lee, “Tai O: Its Growth and Development,” undergraduate essay presented in the Department of Geography and Geology, The University of Hong Kong (1956). Alice Yau Shuk-ki, “A Regional Study of Tai O,” undergraduate essay presented in the Department of Geography and Geology, The University of Hong Kong (1960). Liu and Cheung, op. cit., 235. Hayes, op.cit., 91. Lü Lie, Dayushan (2002), distinguishes two salt production methods practiced by two separate group of workers settled in different parts of Tai O (p. 95). Sha Tin village might be another settlement connected with the salt workers. Wong, Wai King, Tai O — Love Stories of the Fishing Village (Hong Kong: Wong Wai King, 2001), 20. Liao Disheng, “Shequ mailuo de renshi: Daao shequ gean fenxi,” in Chen Jiehua ed., Pipan shikao, chuangyi jiaoxue: Xianggang shequ jiaoyu (Hong Kong: Centre of Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, 2004), 16. Wong, op. cit., 20. Wong, op. cit., 156. Wong, op. cit., 152–53. A 1981 report also touches on sexual segregation and discrimination in Tai O. It notes that regardless of the time of day and location, and the kind of leisure activity involved, “one can never find a gathering of both men and women.” It also describes how bias against women/daughters was common, citing the case

442 Notes for pp. 372–378

30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

46 47

48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

of a shop owner who wanted a son so badly that he did not give up after five daughters were born. The same man refused to let his daughter attend secondary school despite her success in getting a place (p. 64). Du Lixin and Zhang Guoyi, Da’ao she qu guan cha (Hong Kong: Xianggang Jidu jiao nü qingnian hui Da’ao shequ fazhan banshichu, 1981). Liu and Cheung, op. cit., 235. Liao, op. cit., 5. Wong, 20. Also Shuixiang Qing, videorecording, RTHK, c1999, 19:02. Liao, op. cit., 6. Du and Zhang, op. cit., 20. This is partly because Hong Kong fishermen were otherwise restricted from China’s territorial seas. It is said that during the sixteenth century, some Portuguese had lived in the village of Fan Kwai Tong in Tai O. Wong, op. cit., 24. Wong, op. cit., 87–88. Ibid. Tai O through the Eyes of Anthropologists, videorecording, RTHK, c1986, produced by Dominic Siu. See Du and Zhang, op. cit., 70–71 for further details. See, e.g., Du and Zhang, op. cit., 21. Liao, op. cit., 6. Liu and Cheung, among others, have remarked on mechanization and China competition as factors to decline of fishery and salt production. Du and Zhang, op. cit., 40 and 72 and these observations. Wong, op. cit., 29. In the early days, sea-traffic was severely threatened by pirates, but they gradually disappeared after World War II. See Wong, op. cit., 29–30. Passengerferry service began as early as the 1930s. In 1938, the Hong Kong Yau Ma Tei Ferry Co. Ltd. provided passenger-ferry service from Sheung Wan to Tai O, passing through Castle Peak and Tung Chung. Du and Zhang, op. cit., 17–19. Du Deqi, Da’ao jilu (1976). Compare Du and Zhang, op. cit., figures 11–13 on p. 55 and after. One oddity is that the sex ratio for the age range of 30 to 59 was 593 in 1961 (compared with 1242 in 1971), suggesting an unusual gender patterns in mortality, marriage and migration. This may be related to a report that from the 1940s to the 1960s some Tai O daughters were sold (Wong, 36). Wong, op. cit., 163. Du Deqi, op. cit. “Report on Tai O children health screening report [sic.]” (1979) makes similar observations. Du and Zhang, op. cit., 48, 65, 67. “Banyi tianshi/wei Daao Chuli,” Jingji ribao, 11 November 2004. Daao Fengguang Hao, 78. Lü Dale and Gong Qisheng, Chengshi zongheng (Hong Kong: Guangjiaojing, 1985), 94. Zhu Changxi, “Jiceng shequ de jingji fazhan jihua,” in Chen Liyun and Luo Guancui eds., Shequ gongzuo: shequ zhaogu shijian (1989 and 1994 editions:

Notes for pp. 378–384 443

56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63 64 65 66 67

68 69 70 71

72 73

74

Xianggang shehui gongzuo renyuan xiehui). An earlier report is Zhu Changxi, “Da’ao jingji fazhan jihua — moluo shequ de xingsheng,” in YWCA HK,Youth Work & Community Service Department ed., Shequ gongzuo shizai (Hong Kong: Jidu jiao nu qing nian hui, 1987). John Urry, The Tourist Gaze (London: Sage, 1990). Xiao Dao Qinghuai, RTHK, 1990. Dean MacCannell, “Ethnicity and Tourism,” 16–17. Ibid., 14. Lin Hongyuan, “Daao de tiankong,” http://www.waying.edu.hk/wyl/hiking/ route/980415.html. “Da’ao yi chongzheng: shuixiang fengqing kong buzai,” Jingji ribao, 13 April 2000. I have seen in a source that it began around 1930. That approximates the founding of a predecessor of the Rural Committee, in 1932. See e.g. Du and Zhang, op. cit., 60 for the latter date. James Hayes, The Hong Kong Region, 96, cites Schofield’s memory that the Kaifong organization ran a sampan ferry across the creek. See “Da’ao Yuye” in Du Deqi, Da’ao jilu. It was in 1979 that residents of the neighborhood built Sun Kei (“New Embankment”) Bridge using their own money. YWCA Tai O Community Development Office, Da’ao shequ diaocha (Hong Kong, 1981), 19. “Da’ao de zhuanbian,” Sishiwu fenzhong shishi zhuiji, ATV, broadcasted, 11 March 1989. Wong names two translators, the first being a good friend who first knew her as a newspaper reporter and the other translates and proofreads the book (p. 183). Comment by “hong” to “Da’ao ... [sic] Maocheng,” http://blog.panghouse. com/2005/09/07/156/. MacCannell, op. cit., 16. Wong, op. cit., 181 and Li Weiyi (Lee Wai Yee), “Bianzhe Hua,” (editor’s note), in ibid., 8. It is noteworthy that two organizations of very different background than the two identified above, namely the Society for the Promotion of Civil Aid and the Tai O Youth Club, endorsed the document. Three other organizations applied their stamps on the document and one of the personal endorsers was Cheung Chi-wing, a district councillor from Tai O’s fishing community. The cooperation between those organizations might be linked to the district administration reform introduced in the few years before. The document states “neglect by the government for twenty years.” In her book published in 2000, Wong describes the seawall as not only a useful protection against the sea during high tide but also a scenic spot, especially at sunset, and a major project at the time of its construction, and a place for Tai O people to enjoy themselves in summer evenings for music, art, and nature. It is also revealed that the land people and fisher folk call the seawall by different names. Wong, op. cit., 145. The infeasibility of repairing the seawall is emphasized by another interviewee, who should be impartial in the dispute.

444 Notes for pp. 385–391

75

76

77

78 79 80 81

82

83

84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91

92

93 94

It is not clear that residents of the village, being mostly Hoklo salt workers now no longer represented by a union, were among the most marginal groups in Tai O. Such a condition might explain the government strategy in dealing with the seawall, and Wong’s inability to enlist most Tai O organizations to support her campaign to protect the structure. Her family was the biggest one at the time. She also mentions that some residents were offered and accepted comparatively generous re-housing, including public housing or Home Ownership Scheme flats in the urban area. See “Da’ao yucun mianlin weixie,” Huanjing qianxian, 2 December 1995. The move is partly because Hong Kong was bound by the relevant international convention and general duties associated with ideas of global citizenship. “Daao tupian ji wenwu zhan,” Dagong bao, 24 April 2000. “Da’ao jian dingbo qu zhi hongshu lin,” Hong Kong Daily News, 17 April 2001. “Mob attacks teen as he goes to rescue of mother fighting Tai O typhoon shelter,” Hong Kong i-Mail, 15 May 2001. In fact, Wong expresses doubts that tourism and the revival of the fishing port will actually bring economic benefits to the community as both increasingly involve non-local labor. See the following publications of Hong Kong: Census and Statistics Department, 1987, Hong Kong 1986 By-Census: Tertiary Planning Unit Summary Tables, Hong Kong: Government Printer, 1993. Supermap Hong Kong 1991: Hong Kong Population Census Statistics. Electronic resource, Hong Kong: Huang Kwan & Associates, 1997. 1996 Population By-Census: Tables for Tertiary Planning Units: New Territories, Hong Kong: Government Printer. It should be noted that the latest numbers also reflect the presence of a considerable number of newcomers in the government housing and Home Ownership Scheme flats, who had been ignored by most commentators. Wen Keji, “Kefu Lidao shequ ziyuan pinfa de zhangwai,” in 2002–03 Niandu youzhi fuwu fenxiang — gaishan jiaju ji shequ zhaogu fuwu — gean guanli. http:// www.hkcss.org.hk/el/er/GP_EHCCS_1.pdf, Hong Kong: Hong Kong Council of Social Services. Liao, op. cit. “Guan Daao wenhua,” Ming Bao, 11 July 2001. “Daao gongzuo shi zang qiong gu,” Jingji ribao, 19 September 2003. “Yuhushu moshu qiongyu gu,” Xingdao ribao, 19 September 2003. “Wenhua gongzuo shi,” Xingdao ribao, 24 September 2003. “You wenhua,” Pingguo ribao, 6 September 2005. Peter K. W. Fong and Chan Chik, Home of Yesterday (Hong Kong, 1993), 104. Ibid., 94. Tai O locals probably had no such perception. Interview with Cheung Chi-wing, December 2005, and remarks of a fisherfolk male apparently in his 30s or 40s in RTHK’s Daao Sou zuo zai, first broadcasted in 2004. Pang’s daughter retold her explanation that printing many copies of photographs was not a waste because there would be people who wanted to buy. See RTHK’s Yucun Zhaoxiangguan, first broadcasted early 2002. Those can be seen in RTHK’s Yucun Zhaoxiangguan but not in Wong’s book. It actually also covers salt manufacture done by workers from a different part of China who spoke a different “dialect.”

Notes for pp. 392–395 445

95 96 97

98

99

100 101 102 103

104

The others were one mute woman, and a peddler (with only about one third of the account focusing on him). “Chengda xinhangxian, cai danche you Daao,” Pingguo ribao, 16 August 2002. As far as can be identified, once in Dagong Bao’s report on Tai O tourism promotion activities in its racing and business information page (“Daao lüyou tuiguang ri zhouri juxing,” 1 November 2004) and Sing Pao Daily News supplement page together with the Tai O Culture Workshop (“Shuang jiangjun shi fang pengwu,” Cheng bao, 28 November 2005.) A research assistant of middle class background and exposure to museums abroad compared the style of presentation to China products department stores in Hong Kong in the 1980s after her first visit. Kong Gaofeng, “Qiannian,” 136. In the 1986 pamphlet of about 50 pages (Yushan diaochen, Tai O, Lantau: Tai O Youth Club, 1986), member Liu Kinsang, a son of the Tai O goldsmith’s originally from another part of the Pearl River Delta, gathered fragments of Lantau and fishermen’s history, highlighting its former importance in trade, defense, fishing and salt production, expressing hope that those in power might appreciate past glory and try to restore it. Almost ten years later, the Club publishes a newsletter, featuring an article that criticizes the government’s plan to demolish stilt houses and move the residents to newly constructed housing estates. It links the move to forcing fisherfolks to give up fishing, leave their hometown, become unskilled workers in the city, and become assimilated by a dominant cultural group. Instead of romanticizing “traditional life” of the fisherfolks, it puts considerable emphasis on the risk and hardship of fishing, and mentions the quite common phenomena of men not being able to get married and women being sold by their families. Instead of advocating preservation of stilt houses as they are, the author draws attention to the fact that the dimensions of stilt houses were controlled by the government, which specifies the height, width, and length of each stilt house, in effect restricting expansion and improvements to the residents’ living space in hygienic and other aspects. The article links the situation to the government’s refusal to recognize the fishingfolk’s land rights as it does the land villagers’. (Cited in Kong, “Qiannian,” 136–37.) Opinion submitted to LegCo panel on environmental affairs, 7 April 2000, not consulted at this writing. “Da’ao de lishi,” manuscript dated 1 September 2001. Hei Meigui, “Congqian youren gaoshu wo,” Huanjing Qianxian, 2 December 1995. http://meltingpot.fortunecity.com/roberts/818/issue2/ef02.htm To some extent, Fuk Kam has parallels in some younger men who grew up in Tai O and expresses their views on the place through an organization for nature exploration they formed with Hong Kong residents with less specific connection to Tai O. However, at least for a most active member I interviewed in late 2005, global concerns and “the future of the earth” is a more pressing priority for them. See Sidney C. H. Cheung, “The Meanings of a Heritage Trail in Hong Kong,” Annals of Tourism Research 26:3 (1999).

446 Notes for p. 398

Conclusion 1

For the apparent loss of cosmopolitan space, see Margaret Ng’s comparison of Mumbai and Hong Kong “Cosmopolitanism at risk” (SCMP, September 12, 2001); for a more general discussion of citizenship, see Agnes Ku and Pun Ngai (2004).

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“Wei yimin chengshi dazao weilai.” (Build a future for the city of immigrants) Wenhui Bao, 12 Jan 2006. Yeung, Chris. “Dressed to Skill.” South China Morning Post, 24 Mar 2006. “Yimin shi Xianggang shenhua de yaoshi.” (Emigration is key to the Hong Kong miracle) Yazhou Zhoukan (Asia Weekly), 26 Feb 2006. Zhang, Shaozhen, and Hong Xiaojing. “Feng Guojing: shuchu jiaoyu, chuanghui xicai, yingmei shoujin xuesheng qianzheng, gang mao liangji.” Hong Kong Economic Daily, 22 Aug 2005. “Zhu Gang pinpai tuo neidi shichang.” Mingpao Daily, 12 Sep 2006.

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Chapter 1 Archives Jardine, Matheson & Co. Archives (Cambridge University) Newspapers China Mail (Hong Kong) Friend of China (Hong Kong)

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Chapter 3 Appadurai, A. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimension of Globalization. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996. Bauman, Z. Modernity and Ambivalence. Cambridge: Polity, 1991. Beck, U. Individualization. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 2002. Berger, P. “An East Asian Development Model?” In In Search of an East Asian Development Model, edited by P. Berger and M. Hsiao. New Bruncswick, N.J.: Transaction Books, 1988. Chan, J. “Commercialization without Independence: Media Development in China.” In China Review 1993, edited by J. Cheng and M. Brosseau. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press, 1993. ———. “Television Development in Greater China: Structure, Export, and Market Formation.” In New Patterns in Global Television: Peripheral Vision, edited by J. Sinclair et al. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.

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Part II Chan, Johannes, and Bart Rwezaura, eds. Immigration Law in Hong Kong: An Interdisciplinary Study. Hong Kong: Sweet & Maxwell Asia, 2004.

Chapter 4 Bloom, David, David Canning, and Jaypee Sevilla. “The Demographic Dividend: A New Perspective on the Economic Consequences of Population Change,” 2004. http:// www.rand.org/publications/MR/MR1274/. Cushing-Daniels, Brendan. “Welfare and Migration.” Gettysburg College, 2004. Fehr, Hans, Sabine Jokisch, and Laurence Kotlikoff. “The Role of Immigration in Dealing with the Developed World’s Demographic Transition.” NBER Working Papers no. 10512, 2004. Lam, Kit-chun, and Pak-wai Liu. “Earnings Divergence of Immigrants.” Journal of Labor Economics 20, no. 1 (2002b): 86–104. ———. Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong, Hkcer Monograph Series. Hong Kong: City University Press, 1998. ———. “Relative Returns to Skills and Assimulation of Immigrants in Hong Kong.” Pacific Economic Review 7, no. 2 (2002a): 229–43. Poston, Dudley L., and Chengrong Charles Duan. “The Floating Population in Beijing, China: New Evidence and Insights from the 1997 Census of Beijing’s Floating Population.” In The Annual Meeting of the Population Association of America. New York City, N.Y., 25 Mar 1999.

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Chapter 5 Berdahl, Daphne. Where the World Ended: Re-Unification and Identity in the German Borderland. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Census and Statistics Department, SAR. 2001 Population Census: Thematic Report — Persons from the Mainland Having Resided in Hong Kong for Less Than 7 Years, December 2002. ———. 2006 Population By-Census. Feb 2007. ———. “Hong Kong Residents with Spouses/Children in the Mainland of China.” In Special Topics Report, Jul 1999. ———. “Hong Kong Residents Working in the Mainland of China.” In Special Topics Report No. 35, Dec 2003. ———. Hong Kong Social and Economic Trends, 2003. Central Policy Unit, SAR. “Report of the Task Force on Population Policy,” 2004. Chan, Sik-chi（陳惜姿） . The Twelve Middle-Age Ladies of Tin Shui Wai（天水圍十二師 奶） . Hong Kong: Lan lan de tian, 2006. Guangdongsheng renkoupucha bangongshi, ed. Guangdongsheng 1990 nian renkoupucha ziliao(dianziji suan ji huizong). Beijing: Zhongguo tongji chubanshe, Jul 1992. Guangdongsheng tongji ju, ed. Guangdong Tongjinianjian (1991). Beijing: Zhongguo tongji chubanshe, Aug 1991. Holston, James, ed. Cities and Citizenship. Durham: Duke University Press, 1999. Hyde, Sandra Teresa. Eating Spring Rice: The Cultural Politics of Aids in Southwest China. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007. Lam, Kit Chun, and Pak Wai Liu. Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong. Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 1998. Newendorp, Nicole Dejong. Uneasy Unions: Immigration, Citizenship and Family Life in Post-1997 Hong Kong. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2008. One Country, Two Systems Research Institute. Dui Xianggang renkou zhengce he rujing zhengce de jiantao ji jianyi, 2002. ———. Neidi jumin yiju Xianggang zhengce xianhuan de jiantao ji zhengce jianyi, 2002. Siu, Helen. “Grounding Displacement: Uncivil Urban Spaces in Postreform South China.” American Ethnologist 34, no. 2 (2007): 329–50.

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Part III Chan, Kun-chung. “Chengjiu yu shiwu.” In Wenhua qiyi, 38–56. Hong Kong: TOM (CUP Magazine) Publishing Ltd., 2004. Chung, Stephanie Po Yin. Chinese Business Groups in Hong Kong and Political Change in South China, 1900–25. New York: St. Martin’s Press; London: Macmillan, 1998. Eldon, David. “Is Marginalization Really an Issue for Hong Kong?” Bulletin, Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce, Jul 2006. ———. Keynote Speech, 4 Oct 2006. http://www.realbusiness.co.uk/audio/hsbc1. mp3. Faure, David. China and Capitalism: A History of Business Enterprise in Modern China. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2006. ———. Colonialism and the Hong Kong Mentality. Hong Kong: Centre for Asian Studies, The University of Hong Kong, 2003. “Has Tsang opened door to ‘positive intervention’?” South China Morning Post, 24 Sep 2006. Long, Yingtai. “Wenhua zhengce yu gongmin shehui — Xianggang you shenmo keleng?” In Wenhua qiyi. Hong Kong: TOM (CUP Magazine) Publishing Ltd., 2004. “Tsang tosses out hands-off economic policy.” South China Morning Post, 12 Sep 2006.

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Index

Page numbers in bold indicate figures and tables. 1.5 generation choice of migration, 204–5, 221–2 and churches ministries, 217–8 culture and identity, 218–20 defined, 202 family business/ties, 209–10, 213–5 language facility, 208–9 legal right and labour market, 207–8 research data and methods, 205–7 skills and training, 210–2 social networks, 216–7 accountancy, 251–80 accountants advertising, 252–3 fees, 252, 430 forms of practice, 251–2 training/accreditation, 251, 290–1, 429–30 types/numbers of, 280 Admission of Mainland Professionals Scheme, 178, 178, 192 Admission of Talents Scheme, 177, 178, 178, 192 advertisements, 37–8, 76, 252–3, 254–5, 259, 261, 263, 265, 430, 431–2 advertising industry, 68, 77, 251 ageing populations, 84–5, 93, 94–100, 114–5 architects, 260, 261, 290, 432, 433 Architects Registration Board (ARB), 259, 260, 286 architecture, 259–86, 433 astronauts, 202, 207, 214

Attorney General’s Consultation Paper, 257, 258, 259, 266, 430 Australia, 14, 17, 30, 39, 201 banking, 235, 238, 241 Bar Association (HK), 255, 259, 266, 268, 284–5, 434 barristers advertising, 259, 431–2 fees, 258, 431 forms of practice, 257–8, 266 training/accreditation, 256, 257, 430 types/numbers of, 283, 284 Basic Law, 123, 166, 167, 168–74, 187, 245, 267 Beijing, 93, 94, 95, 96, 101, 102 Belle, 71, 81 bilingualism, 208–9, 314, 315 Black Horse Advertising, 68, 76, 77 Bloom, David, 89, 93 bridges, 379, 380, 381–2 Bringing the Vision to Life, 344, 397 British Nationality Act, 157–8, 163–4 Buildings Ordinance, 262, 289 Bureau of Exit-Entry Administration (BEEA), 170, 172, 177 business birth rate, 328–31 California, 14, 17, 30, 32–3, 34–5, 39, 40 Canada, 14, 201–2, 203, 426 Cantonese, 61–2, 312–4 Cantonese musical activities, 50–5, 59–61, 373 certificates of entitlement, 169, 170, 171, 172, 187

480 Index

chambers of commerce, 236, 239 Chan Kam Nga v Director of Immigration, 173, 183 Chen Aiting, 36, 40, 409 Chen Tiesheng, 51, 57–8, 59 Cheung Kong School of Art & Design, 78–9, 81 Chief Justice, 255, 259, 266 children, 186–93 of astronauts see 1.5 generation education level, 125, 186 as Hong Kongers, 237 languages skills, 243 numbers of, 124, 138, 181 one-way permits, 129, 137 potential role in HK, 191, 193 protected by Passengers Act, 22 right of abode, 121, 152, 164, 169, 171, 172, 174, 180, 182–4, 187, 197 of second families, 168 China (mainland) border control, 118, 156 see also oneway permits human capital content, 101, 102, 103 per capita GDP, 94 population distribution, 95, 96 population growth, 94, 95 public expenditures on education, 113 regulations on immigration to HK, 122 China Music Association (Zhonghua Yinyue Hui), 51, 57, 59 Chinese consuls, 33–4, 36, 41 Chinese diaspora, 13, 22–3, 213 Chinese Passengers Act, 20–1, 22, 406 Chinese residents, 158, 164, 166, 421 Chinese University of Hong Kong, 253, 302 Choi, Adian, 68–9, 71, 81 Chong Fung Yuen v Director of Immigration, 174 Choy, Tam, 19, 406 Chui, Ernest, 187, 189, 190 Chung, Elaine Lai-kwok, 351 Chung, Robert, 187, 190 churches, 217–8 cities, 7–8, 344, 345

citizenship for the United Kingdom and Colonies (CUCK), 158, 163–4, 421 City Hall complex, 347, 349 City University of Hong Kong, 255, 257 civil service, 242, 244 see also social work agencies Closer Economic Partnership Arrangement (CEPA), 274, 290–1 Commission on Strategic Development, 344, 397 Commonwealth Immigrants Act, 1962/ 1968/1971, 158, 164 community participation, 228, 229, 364–5 see also Tai O village companies, 328–31, 337–8, 427 Companies Ordinance, 234, 235, 235–6, 236–7, 245–6, 262 company legislations, 234–42 see also Companies Ordinance Consultation Paper see Attorney General’s Consultation Paper “coolie trade”, 14, 17, 20, 21 Council for Performing Arts (CFPA), 348, 350 Court of Final Appeal, 170–4, 187 cross-border marriages, 120, 124, 126, 140, 423 Cuba, 17, 39, 405–6 cultural globalization, 64–5, 345, 363–4 see cultural policies cultural policies, 344, 349–54 Culture and Heritage Commission, 357–8, 360, 364 currency, 241, 406 demographic transition, 89, 90, 93, 118 dependency ratio, 176, 176, 415 Director of Immigration, discretion, 161, 162, 173, 198 see also discretionary regime Director of Immigration v Chong Fung Yuen, 181 discretionary regime, 157, 179–86, 425 drawbridges, 381, 382 dual nationality, 165, 168

Index 481

“early immersion” model, 315, 319 economic globalization, 303–11 economic history, 224–5, 231–45 economy (HK), 157, 161, 337–8 education see also schools; universities achievement overview, 294, 323–4 attainments of HK population, 126 attainments of new immigrants, 124 attainments of PMRs, 132 competition between schools, 308–9 credentialism and entrepreneurial spirit, 227–8 curriculum reform, 309–11 and entrepreneurship, 339–41 impact on job market, 335 lack of recognition for success, 324–5 languages, 233, 312–5, 315–23 marketing of, 115 reform, 303, 304–12 rise of school system, 294–5 social background and policies, 299–301 and social polarization, 311–2 and social stability, 226 and society class structure, 295–9 and space of flow, 293 Eldon, David, 2, 225, 401, 427 emigration (from HK), 168–9 see also transnational migrants emigration (from mainland China), 14–7, 19–22, 31–6, 39–41 employment of early settlers, 153 of HK population, 128, 129 of illegal immigrants, 160 of mainland talents, 178, 179 of new immigrants, 127, 128 employment visas, 269–70, 270, 435–6 Endacott, G.B., 153, 155, 155–6 engineering, 263–6, 288–9, 433–4 engineers advertising, 265 forms of practice, 264–5 training/accreditation, 260, 264, 290, 433–4 types/numbers of, 288

English (language), 233 attainments of, 324–5 challenges of teaching/learning, 320–2 learning models, 315–7 learning of, 314 policies and practice of teaching, 317–20 recommendations for government policies, 323 status, 313 entrepreneurs characteristics of, 332, 334 in creative sector, 340 defined, 327, 341 economic sector of the business desired, 339 motivation, 335, 335, 336, 336, 337 problem anticipated, 339 registered in Guangdong, 336 relocation to mainland, 337–8 self-employment defined, 331 Europe, company legislations, 234–5, 236 Executive Council, 181, 348, 359 exhibitions, 390–1, 392–3 Exit-Entry Administration of the Public Security Bureau (BEEA), 170, 172, 177 exit permits, 196–7 see also one-way permits expatriates, in HK, 105–7 family business, 209–10, 236 ferries, 380–1, 382, 442 fertility rate, 90, 176, 176 fishing communities, 370–1, 372–3, 377, 393–5, 445 Friends of the Earth, 369, 380 Fujian, 123, 125, 136, 136–9, 137, 417 Fung, Victor, 2, 401, 402 GDP, 94, 337–8 gender ratio, 99, 168, 374 Germany, 78, 79 Gini coefficient, 296, 304 Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM), 227, 327, 331–4, 438–9

482 Index

Godfrey, J, 182, 185–6 “Gold Mountain Trade”, 28 Government Gazette, 22, 30 Great China Records, 45, 46 Guang Theatre, 52, 53 Guang-Zhao Gongsuo (GuangzhouZhaoqing Public Office), 49, 50, 56, 61 Guang-Zhao Public School (Guang-Zhao Gongxue), 49, 50 Guangdong, 48–52, 123, 125, 137, 139, 336 see also Guangzhou Guangzhou, 47, 75 gross regional product per capita, 94 human capital content, 101, 102 immigrants to HK, 136, 154 lifestyle, 140–1, 145 migration, 93 population distribution, 96 population growth, 95 Guangzhou Academy of Art & Design, 66, 79, 81 “hands-off” approach, 182–4 Harvard consultancy report, 273 Havana, 14, 36 He Huang, 57, 413 health care, job market, 210–2 Hennessy, John, 153, 232, 409 Home Affairs Bureau, 347, 348, 351, 353, 358, 359, 360 Hong Kong, 155–7 see also “space of flow” challenges and opportunities, 398–9 competitiveness, 149–50, 397–8 as a global city, 343, 344, 397 human capital content, 100–4, 107–13, 115–6 identity, 7, 190 per capita GDP, 94 population composition, 176 population distribution, 90, 90, 92, 95, 96, 97 population forecast in 1998, 175 population growth, 94, 95, 152, 175, 175 population in Tai O, 370–1, 374–5, 388

population in total, 84, 91, 119, 149, 153, 154, 161, 415 viewed from 1.5 generation, 219–20 viewed from overseas, 41–2 Hong Kong Arts Development Council (HKADC), 348, 350–1, 353, 354, 360 Hong Kong Belongers, 158, 164, 166, 421 Hong Kong Chamber of Commerce, 239, 240 Hong Kong Companies Registry, 329, 330 Hong Kong Institute of Architects (HKIA), 259, 260, 285–6, 290 Hong Kong Institute of Certified Public Accountants (HKICPA), 251–2, 280, 429–30 Hong Kong Institute of Surveyors (HKIS), 262, 263, 287–8 Hong Kong Institution of Engineers (HKIE), 263, 288–9, 290, 433–4 “Hong Kong myth”, 298–301 Hong Kong Permanent Residents (HKPRs), 166, 167, 169–70 Hong Kong Polytechnic, 287, 302 Hong Kong Social Indicator project, 334, 335 Hong Kong Society of Accountants, 251, 267, 290–1 Hong Kong Trade Mission, 1963, 240, 241 Hong Kongers, 118, 120, 139–40, 237, 242 human capital, 100–5, 107–13, 115–6, 150, 401 see also import of talents identity cards system, 156, 160, 166, 422 “image apparatus”, 72, 82 immigrants see also transnational migrants 1945–1950s, 90, 93, 149–50, 155–7, 299 1960s, 159, 421 1970s–1990s see new immigrants early settlers, 231, 232–3, 234 see also emigration (from mainland China) future projection, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113 pre-1945, 153–5 Immigration and Passports Ordinance (1934), 154, 155 Immigration Department, 155, 159, 269

Index 483

Immigration Ordinance 1940, 155 1949, 156, 157 1958, 157 1971, 158–9 1980, 160, 161, 167 1987, 165–6, 169 1997, 169, 170–1 1999, 172 recommendations on, 197–8 ss. 11/13, 179, 182 ss. 53, 180, 185 immigration, overview, 89, 151–2 immigration policies, 272, 272, 422 1842–1950, 153–7 1950s–1973, 157–9 1974–1980, 159–63 culture of inclusion, 142–3 discretionary nature, 179–86 discriminatory nature, 186–93 impact on HK population, 93, 174–7 overview, 150–3 post-1997, 169–74, 177–9 and quality of immigrants, 105, 107 recommendations, 193–9 sociological profiles surveys, 142 immigration tribunal, 160, 161, 185, 198 import of talents, 401, 424 policies, 150–1, 177–9, 191–3, 269–71 recommendations, 194, 195, 197, 272 income, 94, 134, 135, 167, 168, 296–7, 301 industrial restructuring, 337–8 industrial revolution (HK), 150, 157, 238 international students, 178–9, 191–2, 195 international trade, 28, 234, 235, 238–9, 407–8 Jardine, Matheson & Co., 21, 24 Kan Tai-keung, 66, 78, 79, 81 Krause, E.A., 250, 434–5 Kuah-Pearce, Khun Eng, 168, 183–4, 190, 191 labour market, 84–5, 207 Lai, T.K., 180, 185

languages of 1.5 generation, 208–9 co-ordinated system, 198–9 distribution, 242–3 of Legislative Council, 233 linguistic developments, 312–5 of new immigrants, 136 pre-1950s Shanghai, 55–6 putonghua, 55–6, 245, 315 recommendations for government policies, 323 teaching/learning, 315–22 “late immersion” model, 316, 317, 318–21 Lau Kong Yung v Director of Immigration, 172, 182, 184 Law Society, 255, 256, 258, 259, 266, 284 Legal Practitioners Ordinance, 255–8, 271, 283, 284 legal services, 255–9, 266, 283–5, 283–5, 430–2 Legislative Council, 172, 226, 232, 233, 238, 239, 258, 361–2 Leisure and Cultural Services Department (LCSD), 353, 359 Li Xuefang, 52–3, 54, 55 Liu Kinsang, 393–4, 445 London, 93–6, 100, 101, 102 Lü Wencheng, 46, 48, 49, 57–8, 61 Macao, 172, 234, 277 MacCannell, Dean, 379, 382 Mandarin, 55–6, 245, 315 mangroves, 369, 385–6 manufacturing industries, 338, 340 media, 30–41, 67, 69 on Tai O, 359, 379–80, 384, 386–8, 390–1 on talents, 2 Medical Council, 253–5, 265, 273, 282, 430, 436 medical practitioners, 272 advertisements, 254–5, 430 fees, 254 forms of practice, 253–4 training/accreditation, 253, 271, 436–7 types/numbers of, 281 Medical Registration Ordinance (MRO), 253, 269, 282

484 Index

medical services, 253–5, 266, 273, 281–3, 430, 436–7 meritocracy, 297–8, 324 “mixed code” language teaching, 318–9, 321–2 Modern Media Group, 72–5 Modern Weekly, 73, 74–5 modernities, 64, 65 Mok Chi Hung v Director of Immigration, 182–3 music, 50–1, 56–60 new immigrants, 120 balance of arrivals and departures of, 119 categories, 129 cross-border marriages see crossborder marriages defined, 85–6, 117–8 education level, 127 employment, 127, 128 government’s attitude to, 171, 177, 186–93 numbers of, 130, 159, 160, 162, 189, 422–3 policy implications, 141–7 post-1997, 139–41 see also PMRs poverty and discrimination, 118–9, 120, 122, 135 provincial origins, 125 regional mapping, 136–9 social profiles overview, 123–5 work force participation rate, 131 New Moon Records, 45, 46–8, 59–60 New York human capital content, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104 migration, 93 personal income, 94 population distribution, 96, 97 population growth, 94, 95 work force, 84 New Zealand, 14, 186 Ng Ka Ling v Director of Immigration, 172–3, 187

occupational hierarchy, 295–6 “One Country, Two Systems” formula, 143, 188 one-way permits, 120, 121, 123, 124 and certificates of entitlement, 170–1, 172, 187 historic origin, 162–3 recommendations, 197 right of abode, 174 open door policy (immigration), 152, 159 ordinances, 21–2 see also individual ordinances Pacific Mail Steamship Co., 18, 24 Paramount Publishing, 72, 73 parentocracy, 304, 305, 306 passage brokers, 21–2, 36 Pearl River Delta, 2, 47, 136–9, 140–1, 144–5, 337–8, 371, 372, 417 Peking operas, 52, 54 performing arts, 346, 347, 348 Peru, 14, 17, 32, 39, 40, 405–6 PMRs, 122, 130–4, 141–2 popular songs, 60–1 population, 94, 95, 95, 96, 100–5, 107–13, 115–6 in HK see Hong Kong, population primary education, 294, 305, 309 “private” schools, 301, 306 Professional Accountants Ordinance, 251, 267, 280 professional associations, 225–6 definition of, 438 functions of, 248–9 and guilds, 249–50 regulatory power of, 265–75 types/numbers of, 278–9 professional stratum contributions of, 248 distribution of, 276, 277 regulatory systems of, 265–75, 434–5 size of, 247, 248 public examinations, 296–7, 300, 309 public expenditures, on education, 113, 114 putonghua (Mandarin), 55–6, 245, 315

Index 485

Qian Guangren, 45–8, 57, 58 Qiribao, 36–41 quota system, 118, 121, 156, 157, 162–3, 174, 196 R v Director of Immigration, 181–2, 186 reached base policy, 152, 159, 160, 161, 162, 167 recording business, 45–8 Regional Council, 349, 351, 353 Registration of Persons Ordinance, 154, 156, 161 Resident United Kingdom Belongers, 158, 166, 421 “Revitalize Tai O”, 368, 380, 385 right of abode, 121, 122, 123, 151, 158 and certificates of entitlement, 170–1 children see children, right of abode of CUKCs, 158, 163–5 foundation for, 158 of HKPRs, 166 legal battles, 172–4 of mainland talents, 178–9 right of appeal, 180–1, 185–6 Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors (RICS), 287, 288 Salaff, Janet, 86, 205, 206 salt workers, 370–1, 377, 444 schools, 175 see also teachers assessment of, 309–11 buildings, 294, 301 class size, 305 competitions of, 308–9 government fundings, 300–1, 305–8 government policies, 299–300 integration and localization, 295 public examinations, 296–7, 300 sea-traffic, 380–1, 382, 442 secondary education, 295, 302, 305, 309–11 Secretary of Security, 150, 181 Seen (early Xianggang Feng Qing), 70, 81 self-regulatory regimes (professionals), 265–75 sex ratio, 99, 168, 374

Shanghai, 47–8 Cantonese community, 48–50 Cantonese musical activities, 50–5, 61 as a “Grand Theatre”, 51–2 gross regional product per capita, 94 human capital content, 100, 101, 102 immigrants to HK, 125, 149–50, 156–7 migration, 93 multi-languages, 55–6 multi-vocal, 56–7 population distribution, 96 reforms music and instruments, 58–60 trade finance, 235 Shanghai Jingwuhui, 49–50, 57 Shanghai Laborers’ Association (Shanghai Gongjie Xiejinhui), 50, 56–7 Shantou University, 78–9, 81 Shenbao, 51, 53, 55, 58 Shenzhen, 93–6, 101, 102, 144 Shik, Angela, 86, 205–6 shipping regulations, 19–22 ships chartering, 24 Singapore, 23, 24–7, 37, 39, 176, 340, 418 Sino-British Joint Declaration (1984), 164, 165, 166, 168 Sino-Japanese War, 152, 154, 155, 237 Situ Mengyan, 58, 59, 414 Siu, Helen F., 85, 86, 401 social mobility, 298–302 social welfare, 189–90 social work agencies, 376–7, 379, 386, 443 solicitors, 430 advertising, 259, 431–2 fees, 258, 431 forms of practice, 257 training/accreditation, 255–6, 257, 272 types/numbers of, 283, 284 “space of flow”, 10, 13–43, 234, 405 split-family phenomenon, 191, 193 Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress (NPCSC), 163, 171–4, 177, 187, 189 stilt houses, 368–9, 375, 376, 385, 388, 393 surveying, 262–3, 266, 286–8, 433 surveyors fees, 433

486 Index

fees/advertisements, 263 training/accreditation, 260, 262 types/numbers of, 286, 287 Surveyors Registration Board (SRB), 262, 287, 288 Tai O Culture Workshop, 390–1 Tai O: Love Stories of the Fishing Village (Wong), 386, 391–2 Tai O Rural Committee, 370, 376–7, 381, 382, 383–4, 392 Tai O village, 229, 368–96, 445 Tai O Youth Club, 377, 393, 445 teachers, 301, 305, 308, 321, 325 tertiary education, 302, 306–7, 324, 339–41 see also universities textile industries, 150, 157 Thematic Household Survey, 334, 336, 338, 339, 439 time of birth, 172, 187 Total Entrepreneurial Activity (TEA), 332, 333, 334 tourism, in Tai O, 377–83 training/accreditation, 266, 271 accountancy, 251–2, 429–30 architects, 260, 432 barristers, 256, 430 engineers, 264, 433–4 medical field, 253, 436–7 solicitors, 255–6 surveyors, 262 transborder visuality, 63–82 transnational migrants, 201–3, 423 triglossic, 314–5 Tung, C.H., 305, 306, 352, 353, 354, 355 Tung Wah Hospital, 29–30, 42, 49, 232–3 two-way permits, 120, 174, 197 United Kingdom accession to E.E.C., 240 defines colony, 231–2 fertility rate, 176 immigration policies, 107, 157–8 per capita GDP, 94 population distribution, 96

population growth, 95 public expenditures on education, 113 takes HK, 419 withdrawal from HK, 237 United States, 94, 95, 96, 113, 201 universities, 178–9, 191–2, 301–3, 303, 340 University of Hong Kong, 253, 255, 257, 301–2 Urban Council, 238, 239, 242, 349, 351, 353 urban regeneration, 344, 345, 354 visual culture, 82 see transborder visuality vocational education, 300, 306, 307 Wednesbury unreasonableness, 181, 183, 184 Wenhui Bao, 136–8, 139 West Kowloon Cultural District (WKCD), 228, 344–63, 439–40 Western music, 58–60, 61 Wo Foshan ren, 52, 53, 54 women abolishing the selling of, 236 ill treatment of, 372, 392, 441–2 language skills, 243 in local organizations, 377 and low fertility rate, 176 opportunities for, 5 protected by Passengers Act, 22 role in fishing communities, 370 role in tourism, 391 Wong Wai King, 395–6 on anchorage plan, 386 on bridges, 381 as a child labourer, 375 Culture Workshop, 390–1 on factories, 373–4 family history, 371 friends, 382–3 on gender inequality, 371–2 on local organizations, 377 seawall campaign, 384–5, 443 sense of community, 387–8 on Tai O village, 391–2 on theme park–style development, 369

Index 487

Xia’er guanzhen (the Chinese Serial), 30–6, 40–1 Xianggang Feng Qing, 65–6, 67–8, 69, 70, 79, 81 Xiangshan County (later Zhongshan County), 48–9 Yau Tsim Mong, 356, 357, 362 Yin Dingbang, 66, 67 Yin Zizhong, 46, 58 Yuan Hua Can, 69, 70 Zhang Xiaoping, 66, 68, 77 Zhao Zhong, 73, 81 Zhongwai xinwen qiribao, 36–41