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At midnight on June 30, 1997, the British Crown Colony of Hong Kong will
become a Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China.
As sovereignty over the Kowloon Peninsula, Hong Kong Island, and the New
Territories is transferred from Great Britain to China, 6.3 million people
will experience a shift from a tradition of 155 years of colonial rule
to Deng Xiaoping's great experiment of
"one country, two systems."
The question that hangs in the air over Victoria Harbor like the dead
calm that signals the approach of the ruthless typhoon is how will the
political transition transform this enigmatic city of contrasts. In the
tourist world, Hong Kong means 24-carat gold; carved jade, ivory, and
bone; cloisonné; and silk. Hong Kong also means
the Star Ferry; crowded, double-decker, red buses that at first sight
vaguely remind the traveler of London; the new, clean, efficient, and
usually crowded subway and electric train service; inexpensive taxis;
blazing neon lights; the Victoria Peak tram; and interminable crowds of
people. But Hong Kong has another side. Hong Kong also means housing
slums, crime, and air and water pollution.
For the past 15 years, Hong Kong has been the field station where I
have been studying media use and public opinion about the 1997 transition.
At the time that I began collecting data, residents had access to 37
daily newspapers and four television and four radio channels. Hong
Kong's rich media mosaic provided readers with a melange of political
opinion representing the political spectrum from the far left's Ta
Kung Pao to the far right's Hong Kong Times. The question remains as
to what will become of the news media in this city where, in spite of
the fact that there exists no legal guarantee of a free press, the spectrum
of published political opinion far exceeds that of any other country in
Asia and perhaps the world.
During the tense period of negotiations between Britain and China, the proportion
of opinion columns published in the rightist and leftist papers constituted
28 percent of the news content. The rhetorical style of the rightist and leftist
newspapers differed dramatically in their framing of the signing of the agreement
transferring sovereignty over Hong Kong to China.
Ta Kung Pao quoted Governor Edward Youde's declaration that "the
agreement provides a sound basis on which Hong Kong can build its future."
In contrast, the rightist press reported that "British Prime Minister Thatcher
and the Communist Chinese officials have sounded the death knell for the
residents of Hong Kong by turning the crown colony over to the land of tyranny."
The six Hong Kong-wide opinion surveys that I collected from 1982 to 1989
provide a glimpse into the world of the ordinary people of Hong Kong. What I
found and what is often surprising to the western world is that Hong Kong
residents view the transition with contrariety. In 1982, shortly after the
negotiations began, many people who had fled the mainland to Hong Kong to escape
Mao Zedong's communist victory in 1949 voiced strong apprehension about 1997.
However, even people who were pessimistic about 1997 still believed that two
distinct advantages would result from China's administration. The Chinese
people would be governed by their own people not the British, and the Chinese
people would be reunified. The title of my book Goodbye Gweilo reflects
this sentiment. The Cantonese word Gweilo means "Foreign Devil," and is
used to refer to the non-Chinese population. It also reflects negative sentiment
toward the 155 years of humiliation brought on China by western imperialism.
The years building up to 1997 have been tumultuous ones. In January 1985,
following the signing of the Joint Declaration that guaranteed that Hong Kong's
capitalist system would remain unchanged for 50 years, 83.6 percent of my
respondents believed the future would be prosperous and stable. By November 1989,
following the crushing of the democracy movement in Beijing's Tiananmen Square,
confidence in the prosperity and stability of Hong Kong had dropped to just 30.9 percent.
There is irony in the 28th and last British governor's efforts to expand
democracy in the colony by extending suffrage to nearly 3 million residents
not previously eligible to vote under British rule. Perhaps the greater irony is
how short-lived Chris Patten's efforts are likely to be. Last December, a
Beijing-appointed committee named shipping tycoon Tung Chee-hwa as Patten's
successor. Tung's first move this year was to recommend the repeal of the 1991
Bill of Rights. Hong Kong's future viability as a field station is doubtful
despite the Joint Declaration's promise of freedom of speech, press, and academic
research. That doubt is echoed in the rapidly diminishing spectrum of published
political opinion: Newspaper publishers and journalists have reported that they
are already experiencing the veil of censorship.
Ann Marie Major, Ph.D., is an assistant professor in
the College of Communications and
research associate in the Australia New Zealand
Studies Center, 111 Carnegie Building, University Park, PA 16802;
814-865-3069; amm17@psu.edu. This essay is
drawn from her book Goodbye
Gweilo: Public Opinion and the 1997 Problem in Hong Kong (Hampton
Press of Cresskill, New Jersey, 1996), coauthored with L. Erwin Atwood,
senior research associate in the Australia New Zealand Studies Center.
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