These days many people are starting to wonder. Since Hong Kong returned to Chinese sovereignty 19 months ago, China’s leaders have tried to prove that they can effectively manage one country with two systems. Beijing stood by as democrats in its new Special Administrative Region continued to protest in the streets and as the press criticized public officials. Hong Kong’s courts also kept their independence. Last month the territory’s highest court issued a landmark decision that will make it easier for people like Li’s son to stay in the ex-colony. The decision overruled an earlier one that required children born in the mainland with Hong Kong parents to get permission from mainland China before being allowed into Hong Kong. It broadened the category of children eligible for right of abode. The judges also insisted on their right, not Beijing’s, to interpret the city’s Constitution. That may have been a step too far. Last week a Beijing spokesman declared that the decision was ““wrong’’ and ““should be changed’’–and, with that, set off Chinese Hong Kong’s first major constitutional crisis.
The legal fiasco is just the latest in a series of mishaps since the handover. Outsiders rightly applaud the fact that Beijing hasn’t interfered until now. But the Hong Kong government itself, led by Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa, has fumbled its way through a recession and crises ranging from an epidemic of bird flu to the chaotic opening of a new airport. Most damaging, Tung’s handling of several other sensitive legal cases has undermined confidence in rule of law, suggesting that some people are more equal than others.
The government recently decided not to prosecute Sally Aw, a media tycoon with connections to Beijing, for alleged fraud, for example–even though the court sent several of her employees to prison for inflating circulation figures. (Aw has denied any wrongdoing.) The fact that Tung had been on Aw’s board and had helped introduce her to a potential buyer for her ailing newspapers raised eyebrows. Elsie Leung, the secretary of Justice, said she decided not to prosecute Aw in part because the case might cause Aw’s newspapers to close, forcing thousands of employees out of work. The explanation appalled some legislators, who plan a vote of no confidence against her next month: ““The impression is that if you’re rich and know a lot of people, you get preferential treatment,’’ says democratic legislator Emily Lau. ““That’s not right–it’s really terrible.''
Last year Tung declined to seek extradition from China for a local gangster known as Big Spender, who had kidnapped two of Hong Kong’s tycoons. Big Spender was tried–and executed–in China. Tung did intervene, however, on behalf of his old friend Lim Por-yen, the chairman of Hong Kong TV station ATV, who was convicted of graft in Taiwan. Last week Lim returned to Hong Kong on bail; he thanked Tung for asking Beijing to urge Taipei to allow his return. ““It’s become impolite to even suggest that people might get a better trial in Hong Kong than in China, because that might offend Beijing,’’ says well-known barrister Margaret Ng. ““When you’re worried about being polite, important issues don’t get discussed.''
You could call Tung’s governing style rule of politeness. Tung has abandoned the boisterous politics of British Governor Chris Patten’s democratic reforms. The chief executive, who declined a request for an interview, is a Confucian-style, grandfatherly manager who abhors confrontation. Tung likes to say that Chinese don’t like to have arguments in public. But to some of his constituents, Tung’s response to Beijing’s criticism of the court ruling was wishy-washy. Instead of stressing Hong Kong’s independence, he issued a bland statement assuring that ““we will find a way forward.’’ On a radio show he supported the local court’s decision but warned that the ruling, which could entitle several hundred thousand mainland Chinese to the right of abode, would have a ““far-reaching and adverse’’ impact.
Tung’s government has reversed many of Patten’s reforms. New laws guarantee that pro-Beijing forces control the legislature. Tung reinstituted an appointment system that Patten had replaced with elections for grass-roots district boards. ““He wants to dilute the democrats’ power,’’ says board member Cheng Lai-king, who won a seat in 1997 elections. She has kept her place, but Tung has also appointed her defeated opponent to another seat. ““People feel democracy is meaningless,’’ says Cheng. ““This is against the spirit of democracy. How can they appoint the loser?''
Beijing always did want to inherit the old, colonial Hong Kong the way it was before Patten. In those days, the rulers and tycoons made deals over lunch at the club, unencumbered by the noisy demands of democrats. In a sense, many Hong Kong people want to hang on to the old days as well, when the border keeping poor mainlanders out of their rich city was less leaky. Radio host Albert Cheng says the people calling his show are unanimously against the court ruling that has let some mainlanders stay put. ““They don’t understand that if we didn’t have rule of law, nobody would want to come at all,’’ he says. Nobody would accuse Tung of wanting to lead Hong Kong into isolation. He evokes a technologically savvy city that serves as China’s hot link to the world. But to accomplish that Tung will have to stand up for Hong Kong’s separate system. That will be hard if he is worrying about minding his manners.
