Like most people in Hong Kong, taxi driver Leung Tat Chung said the city appears to be on the mend after years of protests, repression and pandemic restrictions, though it has also changed forever.
He earns roughly the same as he did before the pandemic. But, Leung said, the city has been divided since the 2019 protests, in which hundreds of thousands of people took part in demonstrations and many clashed with police, opposing a government they saw as a proxy for Beijing.
For the first time since the start of the pandemic, the city welcomed more than two million visitors in March. Crowds of art collectors and art dealers congregated on two floors of the Convention Center at Art Basel Hong Kong in late March. The lively conversation returned to a dim shop at the high-speed train station.
However, Leung sometimes doesn’t turn on the radio in his taxi because a news or PR program can make his clients swear. A government supporter, he takes care of what he says in front of his friends to avoid a fight.
Living in Hong Kong today means juggling mixed feelings. In 20 interviews, many said that when they focus on daily business and metrics, they see recovery gaining pace after years of travel restrictions. But when it comes to anything political, the openness and freedoms that were once hallmarks of the former British colony ruling China seem to be gone forever.
After the 2019 protests, Beijing declared that “patriots should rule Hong Kong,” increasing control over elections by its supporters and imposing a national security law that criminalizes many forms of dissent. The Hong Kong government has used this law to arrest former MPs and opposition activists who participated in unofficial primary elections.
The Hong Kong government says things are back to normal, a message delivered in its tourism promotion campaign dubbed “Hello Hong Kong”.
The economic indicators seem to carry this message: retail sales are rising, the country’s GDP is growing and unemployment is at 3.1%. In the first quarter of the year, the city welcomed 4.41 million visitors, about 12 times more than in the previous quarter, and about 30% from pre-pandemic levels.
Mak Quai Boy, co-founder of dim sum chain Tim Ho Wan, said his company is reaping some benefits. Foreign tourists fill its restaurants, something they haven’t seen in three years, helping drive revenue to more than 80% of pre-pandemic levels.
“It really does come back,” he said.
Ann Kerr, chair of the British Chamber of Commerce in Hong Kong, said more British companies are asking about setting up shop in Hong Kong.
A survey conducted by the American Chamber of Commerce in Hong Kong for the first two months of 2023 showed that its members are “cautiously optimistic” about the business. Among those living in Hong Kong, 61% plan to stay for the next three years, up from 48% last year. But 9% plan to move up from 5% last year.
Local artist Wong Ka-ying said cultural life is also improving. At Art Basel, she has seen an increase in emerging artists, independent art spaces and cultural activities, which has given her more exposure and opportunities.
But even in the glamorous art gallery, she said, she felt the coldness of NSA. Art looked scarier than in years past, and overtly political art was rare. At the Chinese University of Hong Kong, where she teaches, she advises her students to plan their work carefully.
“Maybe it looks the same on the surface. But when you look with a magnifying glass, the essence is not the same,” said the 32-year-old.
When Cyrus Chan decided to stage a protest against a proposed land reclamation and construction of waste treatment facilities in March, the changes were not minor.
Hong Kong used to have a vibrant tradition of street politics, from large parades to local issues. But Cyrus Chan, one of the organizers of the rally, said the police told the organizers that it could have no more than 100 people. Attendees were warned not to wear black as many protesters did during the 2019 protests. They also discussed their slogans with the police beforehand.
Even with formal approval, it was a stressful experience, Chan said. For a week before the rally, he’d checked the news, online forums, and social media every hour to see if anything had changed.
On that day, participants were required to wear numbered armbands around their necks and had to walk inside an isolated moving area.
After protesting, Chan said he still couldn’t let his guard down. On April 2, Security Minister Chris Tang said that “some people” who likened the numbered signs to dog collars or armbands imposed on Jews by the Nazis were inciting hatred of the government — a red flag for many campaigners under the Sedition Act. Chan had previously performed the Nazi analogy on a radio programme.
“Those who say the city will return to the old days…are lying. Everyone knows it’s impossible,” Chan said.
Weeks later, a former leader of a now-dissolved pro-democracy union withdrew his plan to stage a Labor Day rally, his co-candidate said Wednesday. He told the applicant that the national security law prevented the release of further details.
Part of Hong Kong will never return, Leung, the taxi driver, agrees. But life must go on.
“As an ordinary person,” he said, “I can’t do anything about politics.” “I will continue to live my simple, unadorned life.”
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