Musings: National Education in Hong Kong

Forget public sentiment that 'expressive freedom' has been threatened by the SAR government in the debates over censorship, the limited public participation in decision-making matters in politics, and the control over the creative arts. The SAR government has decided to go further and deal with the origins of such discontent; by changing the way people think. There has been a long tradition of this since the colonial days; for example the introduction of a colonial language subvertly indoctrinated the population with associations of class stratification...

Some of these pieces, just doesn't fit.
Say 'no' to National Education in Hong Kong. 
(The embellishments are a combination of things on my own school crests...) 

More specifically, changing the way youths think through the education system, with the introduction of National Education (國民教育. 'National Education' sounds innocuous, and I much prefer the wikipedia reference of 'Patriotic Education', where the political elements are highlighted.) It sounds reasonable on paper, seemingly based on the premise of teaching students what it means to be a citizen of the locality and of the nation. Other countries have similar types of education; imbuing students with national history, politics, and a sense of obligation to the state. Actually, I'm not sure there is a country where National Education has not been contested or problematized. European nations constantly refer to the world wars, recalling history and to foster national solidarity (though this is not always well received, and this idea of introducing patriotic notions to history has been contested. I think a few years ago, attempts to teach 'Britishness' in U.K. schools was slammed by teachers as being too exclusionary ) Some countries such as the U.S. have courted controversy by introducing the pledge of allegiance in schools, which conversely fostered a series of criticisms and student denouncement, especially at the university level.  Not to mention the sensitive matter of how WWII is addressed in Japan, where there are allegations of textbook manipulation to play down the killings in China. And China has infamously omitted 4 June and policy failings of the Communist Party in their school material. The acceptability of National Education seems to depend on whether the 'right' sort of history-- 'right' as being defined by politicians, society, or the global community-- is being taught...

Why is there such resistance to National Education in Hong Kong? 

Starting with the obvious; the concept of 'nation' in Hong Kong is complicated, which makes National Education a problematic existence in the city. The city went from being a colony to  a SAR after the handover in 1997; but Hong Kong, and the Hong Kong identity, arguably developed in absence of any national narrative throughout history. This was part of the colonial mode of governance; the British distanced themselves in fear of receiving a huge migrant influx to the U.K., thus refraining from fully claiming the Hong Kong population as 'colonial subjects' (the right of abode for the U.K. were given to a limited portion of the population, mostly those in the professional classes or are civil servants.) Yet ties with China were restricted by the colonial authorities over anxieties that the socio-political turmoil that took place in the mainland during the 1940s-1970s would trickle into the city and cause instability. This has manifested itself in the education system, where ordinances were established to prohibit political propaganda from entering the teaching materials, and threatened students with political affiliations with expulsion. Teaching 'Chinese history' became a very sensitive matter, with committees choosing what to convey to the students (the history that did end up being taught was very removed from current happenings), and decontextualizing its presentation so that Hong Kong students were not able to identity with experiences north of the border. Not to mention how China had relatively inaccessible borders for part of the 20th century... (this is a crude nutshell of Hong Kong history here, but the development of Hong Kong history and identity are such vast topics normally covered by a series of academic papers.) To suddenly implement a National Education in a city that never fit into any national context, especially with a nation that experienced a completely different history of socio-economic and political development from Hong Kong, would be most jarring. 

Even without considering the historical context, there is issue with the proposed teaching material, which does not teach history, but twists it. History lessons contains degrees of propaganda (history class 101 questions include: who writes history? What are their backgrounds, and their motivations for writing it? What is is being taught for in the contemporary context, and for what purpose?) but the Hong Kong National Education decided that subtlety is overrated. There are blatant messages advocating for one-party rule in China (specifically Communist rule), skewed reinterpretations of past events (the construction process of the Three Gorges Dam), and statements that fit comfortably within any propaganda campaign. Details and examples of National Education material has been circulating on Facebook, and on the Scholarism (學民思潮) web page. It would be naive to believe that we aren't being fed skewed information on a daily basis through other subliminal outlets, but I suppose the issue is how obviously it is done in this context...

  

With Hong Kong law stipulating a mandatory nine years of education for all youths, it is fair to say that the degree of influence education has on the developing adolescent mindset is quite substantial. And to have National Education, and such a warped version at that, permeate into the classrooms will surely have a detrimental effect on the way future youths are able to understand and think about socio-political matters. This National Education debacle can be momentarily avoided by studying in private schools (such as the English School Foundation chain) and going abroad, but this is not a financially viable option for the majority of the Hong Kong population. And why should students have to 'escape' from the education system, instead of being able to dictate the direction it takes?

But perhaps a greater question is why we leave the duty of educating the future generations to a dissatisfactory schooling system, run by a government that refuses to heed the concerns of students and parents. To what extent should we leave the socialisation of youths to the education system in the first place? Before Occupy Central was embroiled in the lawsuit threatening to remove them from HSBC, they had the aptly-named 'Free School', advocating for the free flow of knowledge. It was a nascent alternative to the mode of knowledge transmission in the classroom; people who wished to teach taught, people who wished to learn did so. There were no enrolment forms, no fees to be paid, no obligation to adhere with a regimented schedule. More importantly, there was an important interaction that takes place during Free School lessons, with a balanced and reciprocal power-dynamic between the teacher and student. Perhaps this is the crux of the issue; I'm not saying that the population should completely break away from the mainstream education system, but a structural change is needed where students should be recognised as active entities who have just as much right to engage in educational decision-making processes as the authorities. They're not pawns used by political parties (ahem, ATV commentary, that was shoddy journalism!), they are capable of thinking and acting on their own accord...

....that is just my two cents. Nonetheless, I'm glad the students in Hong Kong have mobilised to protest against National Education, even if the form this mobilisation manifested in has been contested.  


I'm writing this post knowingly bypassing discussions about the implications having a group such as Scholarism in the political scene. There has been praise for this group of secondary-school students mobilising themselves into an organised, cohesive unit to actualise their ideals and goals.  Some have developed a sense of optimism, thinking that the future of a democratic Hong Kong is increasingly secured with such youths in the city. On the flip side, there are criticisms that Scholarism is perpetuating existing bureaucratic structures, and accusations have been made that their movement is not truly democratic in that the prominent figureheads muffle the voices of others. Arguably, Scholarism is just a younger version of the problematic formal political groups we see in the city today, and can potentially replicate the same problems in the future.  Not to be an apologist for the group, but for a bunch of secondary school students, many of whom are probably involved in politics for the first time in their lives through these protests, they may have had to resort to replicating existing organisational structures because of limited exposure to experience and knowledge on 'alternative' politics. But that sounds like, and probably is (why avoid the truth?), an excuse. 

Perhaps it is more valid to ask what the motivations of Scholarism are; I'm not entirely sure their goal was to create an 'alternative' way of doing things, but to play within the system to change the system. Can we fault them for going this route, one that seems to ensure the greatest level of success? Was their goal even to have an overhaul of the system, or to make the existing system listen to their views? And if they feel as though what they are doing has meaning, then who are we to denounce their efforts? That said, my feelings towards Scholarism are ambivalent. Like all nascent movements, feelings of optimism run strong at first, gradually dissipating into a disappointing debacle of personality differences, self-interest, and struggles for control (like the Democratic Party so far.) I'm not certain what to expect, but can only hope for things to evolve differently...

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Update (10 September 2012): During the weekend, the government has agreed to leave the choice of National Education to individual schools, instead of making it an mandatory element in the curriculum. This is 'progress' for Scholarism, indicating that the government has recognised them as a challenge to their authority, a legitimate political force. However, this cession of National Education responsibility to individual schools doesn't mean that the current 'brainwashing' threat is over. In fact, it might not even mean much in deterring National Education, given how many pro-government and pro-Beijing figures have taken positions of power in school administrations and other non-student associations. There will probably be series of small-scale protests over the decisions of some schools towards National Education, but it'll appear as a scattered effort, without the impact of the protests we see now. Hopefully the anti-National Education momentum will carry through, whether it is through Scholarism or not.

Weekend: Demonstrations (1 July Handover day)

1 July is a bipolar day. Part of the population would be celebrating the handover of Hong Kong from British colonial rule to Chinese sovereignty. Another [larger] part of the population will take the streets in what is now for them an annual occasion to protest on the streets. 

I've heard the criticisms about these demonstrations on 1 July becoming ritualistic, devoid of the meaning it held back in 2003 when the feeling of solidarity was strong; when all sectors of society united to repel the implementation of Article 23. Others would think the protests are pointless, given the image of relative economic prosperity Hong Kong projects. But even with Article 23 now shelved indefinitely (that is what the officials say, but then again, Chief Executive CY Leung said he would never run for the position), the issue still hasn't gone away. And there are new problems to take to task. Never has the wealth gap become so wide in the city; or was there such an obvious attempt being made by a governing body to exert control over the creative sector. The new Chief Executive is plagued by his illegal structure scandal, to which he never provided adequate answers for. Mainland activist Li WangYang's death remains unaddressed, costs of living are rising and hindering the social mobility of the younger generations. 

These issues don't dissipate after a single demonstration; many remain unresolved and cumulate to increase social tensions through the years. It could be because Hong Kong is a society that loves complaining, or that the SAR government is doing a fairly shoddy job. I'm inclined to believe in the latter. 

There are plenty of written material covering the demonstrations itself (newspapers, televised news, blogs, etc. Not to mention compilations of academic essays...) so without rambling on too much, here are some photos: 

Mr. Kacey Wong as the 'real' Cultural Bureau chief, in his pink tank. His secret weapon? A stack of hard cash to pay the art protesters off. (Unfortunately, money/funding does dictate the fate of many art endeavours in this city, and artists are increasingly feeling the squeeze from high rents. Not only are young artists struggling to survive with the tide of rising rents, even academic institutions aren't immune. The art department of Baptist University is currently under threat, with the rent skyrocketting within a short period of time and proving to be unaffordable by the institution. BU students have started a protest action, citing that the government was basically setting the costs so high to deliberately force the students out.) 

Example of the money being handed out by the 'real' chief (personally, I find these bills much more fun and interesting than the real currency we use.)

Placard reads " don't stand out today, may not be able to stand out tomorrow"...such fears are not unfounded...

...given that there was the proposed limitations towards works of parody in the city. Article 23 makes a comeback as a theme.

Hello Kitty was another recurring motif; shame on CY Leung for using the iconic cat as an excuse during his illegal structures scandal

To the new Tamar government building, where the theme was 'Doors always Open'. Not as opened as one would believe...they let protesters into the courtyard, but no one was there to listen. I suppose they expect the Hong Kong inhabitants to protest during office hours. 

Marching even after the sun sets, anger not confined to daylight hours. The last of the crowds didn't leave Victoria Park until late in the afternoon/early evening, so I'm not sure how the police can even justify their estimate of a 65,000 turnout. They ought to make all their recruits take a maths class in basic counting.

Fireworks celebrating the handover being booed by the protesting crowds. Shows how disconnected the SAR government is from public sentiments. (On a personal note, the entire atmosphere was incredible. Hearing the fireworks echo all around thanks to the tall buildings, and seeing the lights in the sky accompanied by the shouts of the crowd, was strangely touching.)

[This post is more than a month late, but a few personal events cropped up (resettling back in the U.K.) and it took time to get everything sorted out. Just because I'm now geographically distanced from Hong Kong, doesn't mean I would be any less interested or angry at the events that happen there.]

Drawings: Reign of the Wolf

Now that July has arrived in Hong Kong, CE-elect Leung has been upgraded to CE. Is everyone happy about it? Not from what I saw during the annual protest on Handover Day. Embraced by a whirlpool of allegations, scandals, integrity issues, and low popularity amongst the Hong Kong public (surprisingly enough, wikipedia has pretty detailed information on the events that went down throughout the entire 2012 CE election debacle. Though I must make an addition; whilst Tang had an illegal structure in his house, it turns out that Leung has six.) One must wonder why we even voted for him to take the post at all. 

Oh wait. We didn't vote, because we couldn't. The CE is chosen by a small, select group of individuals (most of whom are alleged to be pro-Beijing due to their business ventures), much to the ire of the population. The motivations behind this practice is unclear (for the public, anyways), though definitely not because Hong Kong people do not want to vote. PopVote is a great example of this will to choose our own 'leader'. It was an informal voting session arranged by HKU that took place in March, which allowed the public to choose who they wanted for CE. It might not be recognized by the HKSAR government, but was treated by the organizers like it was the real thing, with proper ID checks. Despite the initial setbacks (the PopVote website getting hacked and the confusion of converting to paper ballots), and the long waiting time endured at the polling stations, PopVote received a turnout of over 200,000 ballots.   

The results from PopVote showed that over half of the ballots were cast as blank. And yet with these results showing such low public popularity for all of the candidates, inclusive of Leung, he was still voted in office by some faceless batch of people. And already his behaviour has not been promising; low points include his unwillingness to comment about the circumstances of mainland activist Li Wangyang's death, his 'shock' at realizing his own abode has illegal structures (Hello Kitty does not approve! You'll need to check facebook and old news clips to et the reference), or unwillingness to answer a reporter's question about the 2012 Handover demonstration yesterday evening. Are we going to have a CE who deliberately disconnects himself from the questions that Hong Kong people want to ask, and in general, who doesn't answer questions at all? 

(And before any of us forget; now that Leung is in office, he better uphold his promise from the CE elections to release the minutes of what transpired during the confidential Executive Council meetings about how to handle protesters in 2003.)

On another note: why are all of our CEs so messed up? Can the higher-powers of Beijing honestly not find a single decent individual in Hong Kong to take the position? 

(The extended version of the logo, with a police baton in one hand, and pepper-spray in the other. In recent times, the Hong Kong police has been incredibly heavy-handed when approaching protesters. They haven't used batons (yet), but they have pepper-sprayed protesters as though they did a bulk-buy of the stuff at a special sale. Always strange to see tax dollars being used against tax payers.
The police's rationale for using this sort of force was that protesters enacted violence upon them; but what, and where, is this violence? Shaking a few police barriers? Refusing to move away from an area? And is pepper-spraying not a form of violence towards protesters; in which case, will the police be held accountable for that?
And honestly, it is quite irritating that some members of the observing public would blame the protesters for getting pepper-sprayed. I reckon that is a rather unhealthy mentality to adopt. First off, the police aren't exactly an innocent party and has been shown in some instances to instigate conflict; secondly, the key is to look at why the protesters acted in the way they did to result with such police action. Oftentimes scuffles arise from poor police planning, especially with crowd control or reducing the width of the protest routes...
It appears depressingly probable that this sort of police behaviour will continue in the near/far future.)   

Wanderings: 榕樹頭 (Yung Shue Tau)

Temple street (廟街) in Yau Ma Tei is well-known to tourists, but thankfully hasn't been overwhelmed by their visits, managing to retain a strong local presence and character. It resembles Tung Choi Street/Ladies' Street in Mong Kok; except Temple Street is also known as Men's Street. Which isn't to say that the merchandise of these street markets are limited by its gendered name. Ladies' Street does have a mountain of handbags (no guarantees on the authenticity of such goods. I must say that they aren't as blatant with their knockoffs now as they were then), but also offers fruit, electronic items, cell phone accessories, beach towels, stuffed animals, etc. And while Temple Street focuses more on male clothing, you'll still find stalls that sells pretty much everything in between. The enterprising mind won't be limited by geography...

Another notable difference between Ladies' Street and Temple Street is that the latter area provides a gathering ground for many of the city's elderly. Particularly Yung Shue Tau (榕樹頭), a public square at the heart of Temple Street, named for the banian (banyan) fig trees situated within. During the day it is frequented by ah baks sitting together for a conversation or a game of chess. In the evenings, the fortune tellers and other vendors emerge to cater to a bigger, and more diverse, crowd. Unlike the rest of Temple Street, it provides a stage for Cantonese Opera street shows, and live singers...(funnily enough, live singers are also taking to the streets on Sai Yeung Choi Street South in Mong Kok, just next to Ladies' Street/Tung Choi Street. Another parallel between the Ladies' and Men Streets?)

Judging from the Tin Hau temple there (the namesake of Temple Street), you can discern that the Yung Shue Tau area has a fishing-based heritage. The area has a long history, probably back when the Qing dynasty was still in control of China. I'll guess that the boundaries of this public square wasn't as well defined back then as it is today; the major roads (Shanghai Street, Public Square Street, etc.) currently surrounding the square didn't emerge until the mid-to-late 20th century, and now limits the possibility for spatial expansion. Photos below, with some lengthily captions: 

Old people socializing; who needs facebook when you can talk face-to-face? (And no, facetime does not count)

Tin Hau temple, actually a huge complex of other temples including a now-defunct Hsu Yuen (translates as 'study hall'. These are the predecessor to the current schools in Hong Kong. Once there was an established education system in the late 1800s, they were rendered obsolete. This one is currently a place for fortune tellers to set up their stalls.) They were constructed by local fishermen in 1865, and was finally relocated to their current site at 1876. Asides from the Tin Hau temple in this photo, there is also Shea Tan, Fook Tak Tze, and Shing Wong. More details of the latter in the next photo.

Surprisingly enough, few people realize that this temple is different from the Tin Hau temple next to it. The 城隍廟 (Chenghuang Temple/ Shing Wong Temple; differences in romanization depends on the area where these temples are found.The former was used in Shanghai, the latter in Hong Kong) roughly translates to 'City God Temple' and is fairly prevalent in most major cities that have a strong following of Chinese folk spiritual beliefs. The 城隍, or City God, is a class of deities in Chinese mythology that offer protection over the city (protection ranging from personal to communal concerns...and all kinds of disasters such as drought.) It is not to be confused with the more localized and familiar 土地公, which in itself is a huge topic, better explored in a later post...

The establishment date of the first Shing Wong temple is a bit confused; wikipedia says 1877 and locates it at Shau Kei Wan on Hong Kong Island, the Tung Wah Group (a charitable group in charge of managing some temples in Hong Kong) credits the 榕樹頭 temple of Yau Ma Tei for 1865. Either way, it is interesting to note that both dates are after the city has been colonized. Before the British arrived in 1841, most major Chinese cities had their own City God. Except for Hong Kong, since the place could hardly be considered a city at the time... 

Buildings spotted around the area; this corner house is an old fashioned restaurant, famous for its retro fittings

More old buildings, love how they are so colourful. Hong Kong is home to a multitude of buildings in shades of pink, purple, green...all colours of the rainbow (and Choi Hung Estate in Kowloon really does have a rainbow palette...since 'Choi Hung' translates to rainbow.) 

One entrance to Temple Street, just before the stalls open for the day. I'm pretty sure this is a new fixture, though the reasons for installing it here (or now) remains unknown. Is it akin to those efforts one sees in the Chinatowns of Sydney and London that try to make these areas more 'Asian', to appeal to the tourist mindset? (And is it ironic that with this 'gate' in place, that it reminds me more of Chinatowns in overseas locales, than it does of any other place in Hong Kong?)

Trivia! You won't find the area by typing its name into googlemaps (the closest it'll take you is to Ngau Tau, off Lamma Island.) Yung Shue Tau is a name used amongst locals, so if you ask around they will know how to give directions there. You can also find it where Shanghai Street intersects with Public Square Street. 


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The street is the favourite seedy place of our imaginations in Hong Kong. Some of us were told not to venture to Temple Street alone during our childhoods, which fuelled the perception of dodgy happenings in that area. (It isn't as though Ladies' Street is crime-free, but it just feels as though the crimes committed there lack the gravity of those at Temple Street. Maybe Ladies' Streets seems more 'open' and 'approachable' because it is better connected to the main transport links...) The rumours about gang extortion of money from Temple Street vendors didn't help (hey, even Hong Kong films made Temple Street look like the romping grounds for gangs), nor did the evenings news a couple of years back featuring the street as the site of an acid attack 'from the sky' (someone threw a jar of acid from one of the many high rise flats in the area.) Sex toy stalls made the area look almost like the red-light district of Amsterdam, albeit the Hong Kong version looking more disorderly (and without the overt displays by prostitutes.) And then several months ago, during a dinner conversation, I overheard a story about these sex toys being sold-then-resold to unwary customers...without being cleaned in between transactions. Probably a fabrication, but this is the stuff urban myths are made of. 

Musings: The Hubris of Hipster Hubs?

This musing is inspired by a post on the Chai Wan hipster scene on the Tasty Treats blog. The writer is a friend of mine who specializes on food-related postings, but don't let that fool you onto thinking that is of limited scope. Afterall, in the field of anthropology, the role of food is often pivotal in many social interactions; thus it led her to write a piece about the nuances of 'hipster enclaves' in this city. She offers an excellent examination on the merits of having these enclaves around, as well as the potential issues they may bring. Although my previous post was appreciative of hipster hubs around Hong Kong, such as that of Sheung Wan, I must confess that I too find this aforementioned 'hip-ness' a draw and a drawback (the simultaneous embodiment of contradictory states of being; the zenith of hip!) 

The road to hipster hub of Sheung Wan

Some of my frustrations during visits to Sheung Wan are trivial. For example, after trekking uphill hoping to enjoy a cup of tea at a cafe, I find the cafe closed without prior notice (though in retrospect, it makes sense. Hipsters don't follow conventional understandings and flows of time.) Or when there are so many other hipsters and their brethren who linger around, making the area rather packed at times...and dare I say, render the area almost mainstream. Or the nasty feeling that develops when you realize how another individual has done the seemingly impossible; out-hip you with their clothes, their attitude, their speech...


Beyond these superficial issues, there exist a sense of dissatisfaction regarding the state of hipster hubs, especially in the way in which they present themselves as an 'alternative' to the chain franchises rampant in the city these days. I can't help but wonder; after setting up a series of independent shops in an area to create this 'hip' impression, what is next? Is there actually a concerted effort on the part of these shops to push and encourage others to follow in their footsteps of establishing small joints to combat the prevalence of chain franchises? (Is this even their motivation at all...or does it matter in the first place?) And if they are to act in opposition to the latter category, just how do these spaces embody a creative [re]invention of how businesses can be run in this city? Are they really an alternative? 

Another concern of mine would be the ephemeral nature of such hipster hubs. As Tasty Treats mentions, independent shops in these areas tend to be short-lived in light of high rents. They come, they go, and often without any outcry or notice from the locality. It seems to be a cycle that is repeated endlessly, an abstract form of limbo. I think for these places to become sustainable, not only must they be financially viable, but it must make themselves rooted to the area itself; to develop a presence, and a meaning, to the people who live around them. 

Tai Ping Shan Street, an example of a thriving hipster hub

The development of 'rootedness' is complicated and problematic, and I'll try to illustrate this using Tai Ping Shan Street. On the infrastructural level, the new establishments preserve the format of pre-existing businesses and residence buildings.The newer cafes and galleries are situated next to older scrap metal collection shops; there are no sudden high-rises and obscenely shiny façades to be found, bringing a degree of visual coherence between the new and the old. Despite this, I suspect there remains a sense of disconnect; to what extent are these new spaces used by, and engages with, the locals who have resided in the area for years? For example, there are a lot of locals and workers munching down pork chop rice meals at an old-fashioned diner at the bottom of the staircase, but not so much at Teakha (the old men I encountered in the area could only tell me that the tea shop 'opens late'. And during all my visits, it is frequented by young professionals and students.) Is it because there is a lack of repertoire between these new places with the old; a case where you can't force a sense of community or a connection to develop just by suddenly planting yourself to a place? Is it a matter of these new places not offering what the old-timers need? Or is it due to pragmatic issues such as price, since the newer places charge higher sums in order to survive in this city of insane land rent? (Thinking along this vein, would these new hip places eventually push out the older small businesses in the area, or change the profile of the local demography towards that of young professionals; thus unwittingly forcing a unexpected form of gentrification to occur? Maybe this outlook is far-fetched and a tad extreme...) 

Teakha offers nice drinks, albeit at a higher price than the traditional dai pai dongs (大牌檔, the traditional inexpensive Hong Kong diners that are becoming increasingly scarce) and cha chaan tengs (茶餐廳, restaurants that serve tea and can have menus encompassing Western, Chinese, and 'mixed' dishes.)

Another form of 'rootedness' would emphasise the local as opposed to the international. To what extent does the current string of modern independent shops reflect local Hong Kong culture? Many galleries and cafes in these hipster areas are like those found across the globe. Once you enter one of these spaces in Hong Kong, does it feel any different than if you were in Sydney or London? It could be an innocent intention, such as the creators of such spaces wanting to bring a different experience to their patrons; or it could call to a persisting subconscious/conscious recognition of overseas locales being the harbingers of 'culture'. 


I'm not sure if the lack of local character for many of these hipster spaces is deliberate, but it cannot be denied that there has been a long-running worship of the international in the Hong Kong psyche. It is maybe a remnant from the days of colonial rule where speaking English was coveted, or maybe due to the continued proliferation of 'foreign knowledge' in our education systems that has created a misguided myth of the cultural apex that exists 'elsewhere'. (Looking at the university curriculum, the names Marx, Foucault, Bourdieu, Wittgenstein, Arendt crop up. Not as extensive a roster from the Asian region.) Heck, it could even have something to do with the media we are exposed to, or the 'transient refugee mentality' of the city's heritage that left a mark of cultural 'inferiority'. (I've had the occasion to meet a researcher at Hong Kong University who once told me that Hong Kong 'has no culture'; by no means representative of the stance of academia on this issue, but it was scary to know that there are people that think like this. And in a quick survey conducted by Wooferten after taking the Yau Ma Tei locals to ArtWalk 2012 in Central, many of the attendees reckoned that there were more Europeans as opposed to Asians that evening because the former had a higher standard of 'cultural education'.) 


Whatever the reason, the majority of the population has easily allocated local diners, such as cha chaan tengs and dai pai dongs, as 'low-culture' venues, and having a cup of coffee in Starbucks is a vague symbol alluding to 'high-culture'. (Though it isn't as bleak as I just made it sound. There are increasing numbers of young people who visit the former for the sake of a novelty experience, or to understand more about Hong Kong history. Or maybe they just like the cheaper prices...) And for those hipster hub shop owners, even if you are not literally situated in the 'cultured international', having your space be designed to have semblance to that ideal is just as good. But referring to what I was trying to get at earlier; if an independent space focuses too much on the international at the expense of the local, it will limit its impact and meaning on the local social narrative. When such a space is threatened with closure, will the locals fight to protect it like they would for landmarks such as Sunbeam Theatre in North Point? Will they continue to remember its existence, and mourn for it after it is gone? 

Abandoned kitties...and abandoned culture of locality?

But if we wish to bring the 'local' into hipster hubs, this poses a new set of questions in itself. Just how can we go about doing this, and would it necessarily make these independent businesses unique to the point where their survival and propagation can be cemented into this urban landscape? Or does the creation of a hipster hub necessitate an international face superseding the local character, given that the 'hipster experience' in itself is an entity imported from overseas? (There are even jokes made about the possible ethnic group associations with the hipster way of living...see Stuff White People Like, for starters.) Should we thus discard this notion of 'hip' and the ideals of the hipster? And to ask even broader questions, what does local Hong Kong culture look like anyways...how do we understand culture for that matter?


For all these concerns, however, there are existing examples that shows how the mentality of 'cultureless Hong Kong' is changing. In the recent edition of Ming Pao Weekly #2275, there is a piece about a shop in Kowloon that transforms the Hong Kong iconic red-white-blue bag material into trendier items of modern convenience. And there were plenty of young people at the JCCAC handicrafts fair to show that there can exist a balance between the international and the local; to appropriate the techniques and cultural practices from abroad to create products that evokes locality.  Not to mention how Hidden Agenda, a performing and exhibition space in Kwun Tong, manages to place equal importance on inviting a good range of local and international bands/artists. So maybe the local and the international emphasis don't have be juxtaposing categories, and a balance between the two is attainable. 


Okay, so I guess my beef can be summed up as; these hipster hoods can't only be about the appearance, but they must have substance and thought to it. A simple statement that somehow needed several paragraphs to articulate. 


Despite all the grumblings and judgement coming from me (the latter being a hallmark of all hipsters-in-training), hipster hubs really are lovely places to go and remove yourself from the hectic pace that the rest of Hong Kong follows. And my misgivings about hipster hubs can be mollified under a holistic perspective; no matter how problematised such areas may be, for now, they do offer a reprieve from the increasingly uniformed face of shop fronts in current Hong Kong. 

Neighbourhood: Sheung Wan

Sheung Wan is an established hipster-hood in Hong Kong, covered by many publications and blog posts. Not only will you find the antiques market and temples (that hipsters love for its cultural allusions, and tourists love for the photo ops) Sheung Wan is home to many independent small-scale shops. You have your art galleries, design studios and offices, and cafes meant for hours of deep contemplation and scribbling away on Moleskine notebooks. The area also has one of my favourite places; The Coming Society on the first floor of 222 Queens Road Central, offering a good selection of Chinese and English second-hand books (and unlike some fussy chain bookshops like Page One, you're allowed to sit in a wingchair and read the books without the obligation to buy!) It is thanks to these small shops that help give a youthful and hip vibe to the area.

That being said, the entire area of Sheung Wan isn't all hip. Close to the main thoroughfares are the department stores of Wing On and Sincere, there lurks Starbucks and other major chain shops found throughout the rest of Hong Kong, and there are rows of shiny business offices providing an air-conditioned sanctuary of power-suit people. (Not to mention that the Beijing Liaison Office is a little more to the west of Sheung Wan, which could knock all the points off the hipster-scale for any area. But the Office is almost out of Sheung Wan and in Sai Wan, so the area's repute can still be salvaged...) Yet it is precisely the existence of these buildings that serve to offset the parts of Sheung Wan that are different and 'hip', allowing one to be even more appreciative of their presence.

This hipness radiates from the epicentre of Tai Ping Shan street. (If you are unhip and require the patronage of the huge MTR corporation to shuttle you to Sheung Wan, it is a bit of an uphill walk to get there. Not unreachable, but still sweat inducing. For an 'easier' time, get off the MTR at Central station, walk to the SoHo escalators, take it up until Hollywood Road, and head westwards to Sheung Wan. Shouldn't take more than 20 minutes.)  I'll leave my personal thoughts on this area (and hipster hubs in general) for the next post. For now, some snaps of the street and its surrounding areas:

Weekend: Demonstrations (我們都是李旺陽)

Demonstrations in Hong Kong are one of the most common means of expressing a message within the local political scene. They are different from demonstrations in many other countries; in the sense that in this city, they are perceived as being incredibly peaceful and orderly. Despite this image being challenged given the [understandable and oft misconstrued portrayals of*] conflicts with police in recent years, demonstrations remain almost a weekly affair, but they tend to be of small-to-moderate scale (a turn-out of around a hundred to a thousand people), and of specific scope in their demands. This plethora of protests is thanks to the fragmented political and social scene in Hong Kong, where individual groups voice their own interests which may exclude and alienate the sympathies of others. This is pretty consistent throughout the year, save for large-scale happenings such as the candlelight vigil of the 4th of June and the annually-expected 1st of July protests. 


But there are occasionally events that occur which temporarily puts aside the differences of many political parties (sans DAB. Always sans DAB.) and draws large numbers of people onto the streets; in this instance, the 'suicide' of activist Li WangYang who was imprisoned in the mainland for two decades and was found dead under suspicious circumstances.


As if the suicide wasn't dodgy enough as it is, sentiments of anger precipitated in Hong Kong after the CCP issued a series of answers and explanations that did not....answer or explain anything. (Avoiding the jokes that Hong Kong people watch way too much CSI to be easily accepting of the obscured conditions of Li's death, even foreign tourists in Wan Chai said that there was no way Li could have killed himself based on the scant imagery that has been circulating online. The international community knows...) The obvious questions have been circulating in the media and social networks; why would a man with no intention for suicide suddenly take his own life? Where would he even get the rope to hang himself? How does a visually-impaired person with limited mobility manage such a feat anyways, especially since it could be assumed that he was under the watch of CCP officials since his release from prison? These questions aren't the most ire-invoking matter; it is the CCP's contradictory practice. Promising an open inquiry but immediately cremating the body of Li, and monopolizing access to the surveillance recordings to Li's room. Cutting off contact between friends of the Li family, and those who promised to aid in their search for truth. (Check out the Wall Street Journal blog for a more fleshed-out account on the happenings.)


Hong Kong people don't have the answers, and any ideas offered will remain speculation. But they can demand for transparency and for the facts to be made clear; they can show their horror at the maltreatment of activists in the mainland; they can pay their respects to the man who fought for the recognition of the killings on the 4th of June 1989. And so this weekend, the inhabitants of this city made their feelings towards this matter be known, and took to the streets under the theme of  '我們都是李旺陽' (translates to 'We are also Li WangYang'. Over a dozen organizations and parties banded together for the demonstration; I opted to partake with Art Citizens, a group formed by local artists and people concerned with the arts. (They debuted last year in the protest calling for the freedom of Ai Wei Wei, and also on the 1st of July 2011 against police demands for no music to be played during the annual protest.) Check out the photos:

Starting from East Point Road in Causeway Bay 

White shirts, white banners, white flowers; a funeral procession 

Blindfolded and waving banners with poems written on them

People from the group marching behind Art Citizens. It was a hot day, and there were many standstills during the march, so it very tiring

During one of the longer standstills just before reaching the Beijing liaison offices. The entire street was packed (can't see all of the people in this photo because many of them were around the corner where the main road was), and I'm pretty sure that the police estimate of 5,400 attendees is fairly off.    

I think underlying this demonstration calling for transparency in Li's death, are deeper concerns within the Hong Kong psyche. What is the worth of a human life to the CCP these days? What is the worth of a human life to us? Can we live our lives quietly and in a docile manner knowing that the CCP has not been held accountable for their actions towards activists in China? How long will it take before the CCP will acknowledge 1989, and how long till the democratic ideals from 1989 realize itself into Hong Kong? Will the imprisonment and mistreatment of activists in the mainland be a glimpse of what is to come in Hong Kong? Can we move away from being a city only concerned with economic development and towards being one guided by a sense of morality?


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*the idea of 'disorderly protesters' who 'instigate' and 'provoke' conflict is a dangerous myth. It needs not mentioning the issue of media bias, selective reporting, and the recognition of the media as a corporation out to sell a story using the most eye-catching images. You do have a tiny number of people in the crowds who are egging for trouble with the police, and they are responsible for their own actions. But if you have been near that situation the first thing that happens is that fellow protesters will talk the individuals involved down from open conflict. 


Sometimes (or better to say oftentimes) it is the Hong Kong police that overreacts, leading to scuffles; they say that protesters are 'violent' and pepper-spray them, but what is this 'violence' they speak of? Shaking a few police barricades? Trying to resist against the oft-unreasonable restrictions imposed by police to the demonstrations route? The definition of 'violence' employed by the Hong Kong police has a pretty low threshold, especially when you compare with the 'violence' that occurs around the world. (And looking back at the debacle of the HKU 100 celebrations, where police confined students in the campus stairwell, what was the supposed offence of the affected students? The simple act of shouting for democracy on campus grounds during the mainland vice-premier's visit.) 


Not saying that the Hong Kong police should be painted in an antagonistic role; many them do try to be helpful, keeping protesters away from passing traffic and keeping in communication with the protest organizers to ensure that things are going along as planned for both sides. (And I won't even hazard a guess into the sort of conflicts they go through trying to juggle what their jobs demand and wheretheir personal sympathies lie.) But then you have police officers doing this sort of thing: check out this video on youtube showing how a police officer grabbed the head of a youth protester who was turned away. Completely unwarranted, unjustifiable, and unfortunately for the sake of all, unnoticed in the mainstream for now. For a police force that is so against 'violent measures', they sure don't have an issue employing it for their use. 

Musings: the Seeds of Creativity

Just a quick sketch that is loosely based on the happenings in Hong Kong these days, especially the issue of the government trying to push for a copyright law this July, in the interest of 'protecting creative property'.

Hong Kong does need some form of a copyright law, I have no issue admitting to this. But not one that is poorly drafted, poorly explained, and offers no clear delineation as to the material it covers. (And always be in doubt of a proposed law when the government resorts to the sales pitch of "pass the law now, we'll sort through the details later.")


Although not explicitly mention by the government (then again, when does the HK government ever issue a fully transparent statement?) one can't help but feel as though this law is an attempt to muffle one important avenue of political expression in this city; that of parody. Parody (known as 惡搞) is a way for it's users to attain the ability to voice out a critical-- and oft opposing-- viewpoint towards something purported by the mainstream and/or the authorities. The key elements of this involves humour and a degree of abstract representation of the issues at hand, which makes it easy to 'consume' for the wider public (as opposed to providing a hardline statement which may turn people away. A very likely case in Hong Kong), and offers a degree of protection from persecution as long as all references remain indirect. (Think of the role of parody as akin to the court jester of the medieval courts. It may be appear as a trivial role of entertainment, but jesters are protected from whatever they say due to their status as a bearer of humour. Thus these jesters are vital when it comes to conveying news that may not be savory for those who listen-- for example the 14th century French royal court heard about their defeat in a naval battle with the English after the jester hinted at their loss through a joke. No other official dared to speak up lest they incur the wrath of the royals-- and were an important mouthpiece for the difficult-to-stomach truths.)


So just how rampant is parody in Hong Kong, and what form do parodic works take? Unsurprisingly, given the proliferation of the Internet in most Hong Kong homes, it is mostly online. And thanks to social networks, it is easily spread to a mass audience, and most works are well receive by them. There are a lot of popular culture references (possibly due to the age of the parodic work maker and the destined audience), some of the most popular being movie posters from local Hong Kong cinema and Hollywood. A fantastic example emerged a month or so ago, when the faces of The Avengers poster was replaced with those of unpopular government officials (the lineup includes Fan, Leung, Lam, etc.) under the aptly renamed team of The Suppressors. Another great poster had the face of Tang superimposed on the poster for The Iron Lady with a caption for 'selling the wife' (a pun that makes sense in the Chinese version of the poster), a response to Tang's wife facing the media for the illegal basement structure debacle. And then there are the numerous versions of Leung's face being superimposed on chairman Mao's propaganda posters, alluding to Leung's ties with the communist party...


But the ability to link an issue at hand, and the people involved, to another piece of existing work that allows for a comedic representation of all these elements is a skill in itself. Can one not say that this process of visual articulation is in itself a valid form of creativity? And if so, does this not render moot the need to combat parodic works under the guise of 'protecting creative property'? (So where does the the justification of a copyright law lie? That the makers of parodic works don't give credit to the creators of the original piece? Would issuing a disclaimer/attributing credit resolve such an issue? And to what extent will the parodic work have to differ from the original material to avoid such a necessity, in the sense that the parodic work becomes something 'new' in its own right?)


But asides from speculating what this law will do to the parody scene, the notion of 'creativity' in itself needs to be examined. The argument in support for the law proposed by the government is lacks an understanding of the issues of 'creativity'. As pointed out in June's edition of CUP magazine (check out pages 65-67), even works of seeming originality can trace its 'inspiration' from an older work. Has there ever been something such as 'pure originality', something that makes no reference from another work and emerged in its own totality? Is this feat even possible, given how most individuals of this society are bound to be exposed to the works of others on a conscious and unconscious level? How do we, and how should we, understand and define 'creativity' at all?


I think, the problem is in how we determine whether the link between two pieces of work is that of acceptable 'inspiration' or that of exploitative 'plagiarism*'. (Plagiarism within writing and academic work is easy to define and identify. Same goes for evident plagiarism such brand-name knock-offs you see in Fa Yuen Street. In these examples there is a direct one-to-one replication of the traits embodied by the original, and a matter of personal gain. The problem is the application of this term to works that make a reference to another in a manner of 'allusion'.) Is there a spectrum in which to measure whether a piece or work fluctuates from one label to the other? I'm not sure what the criteria for judgement is, but it is certain that this is not something that should be determined by the government.


So leave parody alone, Hong Kong government. And do what you do best; continue to supply people with abundant material to continue the making of parodic works.


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*I also find plagiarism to be problematic from a cultural standpoint. In some Asian societies (also applicable to the old painting masters of Europe), the art tradition is passed through a process of copying, reproducing, imitating existing work as a means to refine and hone skill sets. It was/is considered a legitimate means of propagating the art discipline. And imitation itself can be considered to be a form of flattery and a show of appreciation in certain contexts. In present day Japan, you have fanart being sent to authors of popular manga and anime works, with some authors thanking their fans and even publishing such works for public viewing. Doujinshi (a fan-made manga volume) may sometimes appropriate the characters of another piece of work for use in a different setting, but there seems to be little qualms about this issue.