Reflection: Back in 1989

Although unable to be at Victoria Park in Hong Kong this year, I was happy that a lot of young people I encountered during fieldwork attended the candlelight vigil to remember Tiananmen 1989. They stood in the crowded park despite the rain and the high temperatures. Across the other side of the Eurasian landmass (and a hop over the English Channel), there was also a small memorial service dedicated to Tiananmen victims, organized by a group of Hong Kong students in the U.K. Much like the crowds at Victoria Park, attendees here were varied; some had only heard of 4 June in passing whilst others had attended the vigils in Hong Kong every year; there were students from the PRC and from Hong Kong;  some were children in 1989 and others were yet to be born. 

Because Tiananmen had an impact on my life, and the lives of many others in my age cohort, I thought it would be nice to briefly share some related thoughts and feelings here. I detest writing about myself (though it is likely I unknowingly insert my ego in other posts) in fear of being accused of egocentricity. It is also because my life isn't rife with the drama that interests others, nor have I done anything significant and important thus far. But perhaps my experiences and memories of Tiananmen share commonalities with the experiences and memories of other people, and can be considered a part of a much bigger 'collective memory' that floats over our generation...maybe that is why it is worth writing, I don't know.

I've encountered comments that people my age are too young to remember; that our memories are either too vague to be worth talking about, or are only constructs from secondary sources. But I believe it isn't only about being able to witness the facts first-hand. Speaking to a friend who was an undergraduate student in Hong Kong during 1989, and who continues to be involved with 4th June events today, he remembers the crushing feeling of pessimism upon hearing about the Beijing crackdown. It was a pessimism made more intense because it was shortly preceded by widespread optimism; optimism that the Beijing students and residents can succeed in their aspirations, can win democratic and expressive freedoms, can challenge the upper echelons of government power, can prove that people can mobilize to change the parameters they face in life. A lot of these ideals vanished when the tanks and bullets arrived... The point is, for this friend, it doesn't matter whether people in our generation existed when Tiananmen took place, because there is an emotional component in remembering history that is capable of transcending generational barriers. 

My memories of 1989 in Hong Kong are fragmented. My family was living in a small apartment in Quarry Bay at the time, and I saw the footage when we were sat around a folding table for dinner. Being a toddler lacking the intellectual capacity to comprehend the inferences from the happenings in Beijing, the television screen looked like a chaotic mass of colours. It was only by looking at my parents that I knew something was wrong, since they both stopped eating and became very quiet. Their quietness disappeared during the subsequent demonstration in Hong Kong, where both my parents tied ribbons around their foreheads (and the foreheads of my sister and I) and shouted slogans. I don't remember much of the demonstration, only that it was loud, crowded, hot, angry. Because of my short stature my dad sat me on his shoulders; but even at that height, my field of vision was only filled with faces and heads. As a child, that was an intimidating sight (my mum said I burst into tears); but thinking back as an adult, I find comfort knowing that so many people felt compelled to speak out.

Tiananmen was one of the reasons why my family emigrated from Hong Kong to Australia later in 1989, and why I became better versed in English than Cantonese. If we never emigrated, l would have grown up in Hong Kong, and have become someone different-- not better or worse, just different. Kind of strange to see the diverging points in your life, to know that so many possibilities were/are out there... The crackdown resulted with a steep learning curve about the key actors and activists involved in 1989, led to a general interest in local and international politics, and shaped my current research interests in school. It influenced my moral worldview; especially perceptions of right and wrong, good and bad, justice and injustice. 

Personally, remembering 4th June is not only a historical exercise, but a moral one. We remember that people died in Beijing in 1989, and died unjustly at the hands of Communist Party officials; the PRC government has not acknowledged this, denied the relatives of Tiananmen victims their right to mourn, and reacted by imprisoning activists. We remember so that we can continue to demand for individual rights and freedoms, and if it does become realized one day, that we never take them for granted. Already we can see such freedoms being encroached upon in Hong Kong. The city is supposed to be last place on 'Chinese soil' where Tiananmen can be discussed, but unfortunately we can see media outlets toning down their Tiananmen coverage under self-censorship, with conservative political forces and the SAR government officials avoiding all mention of 1989. (I sometimes wonder what can compel these groups and individuals to deny Tiananmen; how differently do they see the world, and how did they turn out so different from those who do care?) 

Thankfully, there are young people in Hong Kong who remain determined to ensure that the memory is passed to their successors. There are those who attend the candlelight vigils. Others experiment towards expressing their thoughts towards Tiananmen through novel outlets; there is Woofer Ten's來往廣場的單車 (Cycling to the Square) that took place in 2011 and 2013, and 這一代的六四 (This Generation's 4 June) that has been running for the past several years (see the post on this blog from last year). I find myself happy and proud to know that there are people who remember, and will continue to remember...

(Please excuse the poor quality of the illustration in this post: am still waiting for the laptop to be fixed.)

Read: Via Ports, From Hong Kong to Hong Kong

I chanced upon Via Ports during an afternoon in the library, struggling through another day of battle with my thesis. It was originally published in 1965, reprinted in 2012 by the Hong Kong University Press under their 'Echoes' series. 

The book is written as a chronological narrative, following the experiences and observations of Alexander Grantham, Governor in Hong Kong from 1947-1958. These were vital years; a time where the city was trying to rebuild and cope with the consequences of war and occupation, deal with massive population growth and the subsequent pressures this has had on local infrastructure and resources, (re)establish some degree of socio-political order in the region, and transform the city into one that meets the requirements of a rapidly changing world. The Hong Kong we see today still contains echoes from this time period... 

It starts with the author's arrival to Hong Kong in 1922, with the following chapters detailing his subsequent departure to Bermuda, Jamaica, Nigeria, and the Fiji region, before returning to Hong Kong after WWII. This book could arguably be described as a travel journal; the author describes the people he meets (mostly others under the British colonial service), the activities and events that took place at various localities, and even the 'beauty spots' he visited. Yet the writing goes beyond the stylistic confines of the 'travel writing' genre, and it never feels as though one is reading a purely descriptive account. It helps that the author truly has had first-hand experiences (and an interest) with what he was writing about, and rather than discuss these topics from a narrative distance, he incorporates them into his recollections of everyday life. His descriptions are so vivid and so colourful (in describing Sir Alexander, then known as Bustamane, Grantham recalls the "aquiline features and thick greying hair brushed back...he could harangue and sway a crowd like no one else..." p.34) that you can envision what he was referring to in your mind. 

I particularly enjoyed the human element embedded within the text. Oftentimes, in our attempts to compose a piece of reflexive writing, we find ourselves uncomfortable with putting our own thoughts on paper to be publicly scrutinized, and default to reciting clinical facts (e.g. "I was born during...I went to school at...I did this during...etc.) Here the author does examine the socio-political developments of the places he has been to (e.g. structures of government, local communities and politics, schooling and university systems, corruption), but he also injects milestones from his personal life. One example of this can be found in the first chapter, where the author talks about how his marriage came from his Mandarin lessons during his time in Peking (Beijing): "I made good progress but as time went on my enthusiasm for mandarin gave place to enthusiasm to Maurine Samson..." (p.12). In other instances, he recalls humourous anecdotes with his dogs in Bermuda (p.27), Christmas in Nigeria in 1942 spent engaging in recreational activities with his wife and friends (p.59), and a nostalgic and 'sentimental' return to Peking after the death of his stepfather and the departure of his mother to England (p.134). 

But what was even more surprising was how easy it is to understand the author's thought processes and motivations, even if he was from a different era surrounded by a different world. The author admits that his junior standing in the Secretariat (his title at the time? Extra Assistant Colonial Secretary) during the 1920s rendered him disinterested in wider politics, such that the anti-colonial Seamen's Strike of 1925 warranted only a brief mention in the book; his primary concern was about how the strike could postpone his marriage. His migrations to other localities were driven by his calculations for promotional opportunities. This is not a cynical representation of the persistence of self-interest through time; rather, we can find comfort in knowing that what was of concern and important to him is also what is of concern and important to many of us today.The Governor may be at the apex of the colonial power hierarchy, but he is also human driven by individualistic wants. He enjoys train rides, swimming, walking in the hills, and seeing beautiful sights; he sympathizes with his wife when they have to leave their house and garden behind in Jamaica for Nigeria. There is a subtle emotive quality that many contemporary memoirs lack. 

There were parts of the book that resonates with the sentiments of the current generation of youth in the city; especially with his description of Hong Kong as his 'first love', and with how the book ends with his sailing out of Hong Kong asking the question "[w]ere we going home or were we leaving home?" 

Missing from the book are in-depth examinations about the poverty that was experienced by much of the population in Hong Kong; such as life in the emerging and increasingly crowded squatter settlements, the difficulties in trying to eke a living in an economy that has yet to take-off, and the lack of political inclusion stemming from linguistic boundaries.The author did have encounters with ethnic Chinese during his time in the city, but these were the 'Westernised elites' (a term I am borrowing from another document) and those who served the colonial circles; the head of domestic staff Ah Yau; the diplomatic representative of the communist Chinese government Special Commissioner T.W. Kwok, educated in Harvard and Cambridge; former Magistracy interpreter Chan Kok Wing who later contributed towards anti-corruption efforts; and one of the kaifong (neighbourhood association) leaders called Parkin Wong, educated at Columbia University. Although this sole exposure to the upper strata of Hong Kong society can be uncomfortable for readers, and be indicative of the distance between the colonists with the majority of the population, but perhaps this is an accurate reflection on the reality of life as a Governor. 

Colonialism is a word that has birthed and permeated into a broad array of academic disciplines, not to mention generated a large body of research. In everyday conversations, colonialism is a word that carries negative connotations, used in criticisms towards power-imbalances and the subordination of certain socio-political groups. But trying to apply moral judgments of right and wrong seems irrelevant in this context; this book does not attempt to present itself as a comprehensive historical textbook. It does not criticize nor celebrate colonialism, it treats colonialism as the given state-of-being, because it was such during his time. Ultimately, it is best to see this book as being about a man (albeit a very privileged man) recounting and sharing his unique life experiences, in a lighthearted and eloquent manner, with an emotive touch. 

(205 pages. I borrowed this book from the library, so have no clue how much it will cost. But it should be available on Amazon and the bookshop at the University of Hong Kong.)

Thoughts from the Field, Instagram Mosaic

I did fieldwork in Hong Kong from December 2010 until July 2012, and goodness knows how I underestimated the centrality of the smartphone in the research data collection process. There has been anthropological research on the role of mobile technologies in shaping/reshaping cultural practices; especially in regards to social communication and intimate relations, phone materiality translating into social capital, etc. There are the articles linking Facebook and Twitter with the Middle-East mass protests in recent years, and on the flip-side, articles critically questioning the true extent of influence social media has in the real world. But there is surprisingly little being written about how mobile technologies can affect the practices of researchers, to facilitate their work...


There are pragmatic reasons for getting a smartphone. During the first few months, I carried a digital voice recorder, a notebook, an army of pens, and a camera; it became incredibly difficult to handle all of these devices. Imagine having to jot notes in the middle of a jostling demonstration crowd, then having to dig around your bag for the camera to create a visual account of what is happening. After you've juggled these objects around, suddenly your phone rings... more shuffling ensues. In contrast, a smartphone enables you to do all those things on one device. My second motivation for getting a smartphone is because my digital voice recorder decided to boycott fieldwork-- it just died in the middle of an interview. So I figured that I needed a replacement, and one that would allow me to email the sound files to my computer immediately after an interview. (When I tried to salvage the sound files from my broken digital recorder, the dratted thing refused to upload anything onto my computer, and the speakers refused to work, so that is data lost...good thing I have the interview notes to rely on.) Then there is the peer pressure to be connected. A lot of informants-- or rather, a lot of Hong Kong people-- have smartphones, and they constantly relay information through Facebook and Whatsapp.  And without map apps, I might have spent half my time wandering around looking for meeting spots, especially in the chaos of urban Kowloon...

One of the unexpectedly useful tools on the smartphone would be Instagram (or any other photo-sharing app). I'm not their spokesperson, and I don't like their recent bout of shifty privacy, copyright/ownership, and user-rights policies. But it proved to be a mode of documentation that compliments fieldnotes. Although photos on Instagram can be terribly mundane (hello, cups of tea and noodle shops), it is a reflection of your everyday life. The first advice our class received before setting off to our respective research sites is that everyday life is mundane. Things simply don't happen all the time. Ethnographic accounts have pages of fascinating rituals and events from various societies; but this is often the work of anthropologists who have been out in the field for years on end. Secondly, recording the everyday is important, because it all adds up towards framing your entire field experience. Fieldwork involves studying and understanding the lives of others, but it also involves you living your own life. You might be in a location for a temporary period of time, but it isn't an experience that can be compartmentalised after returning to your institution. With or without knowing it, the fieldsite will change ways of thinking and ways of acting, and will follow you for a quite a while. So in this blog post, I'm including a smattering of images from my own fieldwork; ranging from protest scenes, to bookshops visited, the change in seasons, and local restaurants...

When you scroll through the Instagram photos at a later date, there will be things of importance in them that you did not notice when these images were first taken. The images change in significance as your research idea evolves. For example, I didn't even realise that I was taking so many shots of local architecture, until my topic shifted towards that direction. Somehow I unconsciously took images of things that really interested me, and it took a while for my conscious brain to follow suit. Indeed, using filters from Instagram can be seen as corrupting the integrity of the original image itself; it makes the image look processed, distant, remove, and artificial. There is a degree of insincerity coming from imposing a range of 'special effects' onto the images... then again, any form of photography (even with basic point-and-shoot cameras) involves depicting a form of reality in your own ideals. Just by framing a shot and deciding on the composition, choosing to use a specific type of film, adjusting the exposure and aperture, is a form of visual manipulation by the person behind the lens...but I digress. Personally, I found that my choice of filters often reflected my mood and feelings at the time the photo was taken (using filters to convey sentiments of melancholy, emptiness, vibrancy, nostalgia, solemnity, for starters). 

But, technology doesn't supplant the importance of having meticulous fieldnote-taking practices. Smartphones are a great help, but it is ultimately a tool that, as the cliché saying goes, is 'only as good as the person using it'. The researcher must still make sure that the collected information is well-organised, detailed, and that the information is approached from a diverse array of angles (visual/audio/textual, and comprising of different viewpoints). It shouldn't only include the facts of an issue, but cover the emotive responses this evokes from yourself and your informants. How the data is interpreted and presented to be of relevance to theory and ethnography remains the responsibility of the researcher.

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...

-----------------------------------------------------

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.