UNLIKE previous flights to Hong Kong, my Malaysia Airlines aircraft going to that city was barely one-third full.
I arrived in a city that I knew well, having earlier lived and worked there for over two decades, yet somehow was almost unrecognisable.
Six months into what is Hong Kong’s greatest crisis since the handover of sovereignty from Britain to China 22 years ago, my week-long stay in that city early last month certainly was surreal.
Selectively-damaged shops, disrupted transport facilities, quieter restaurants and shopping malls, a general reluctance to venture out in the evenings and an appreciation that wearing black or white clothing was more than just a fashion statement.
Speaking Mandarin no longer has a cache and, if anything, is now stigmatised.
What started as massive public demonstrations against the Hong Kong government’s proposed extradition bill brought into sharper focus the clashes of culture between mainlanders and Hong- Kongers.
To a greater extent than at any time since 1997, opinion in Hong Kong is divided over whether mainland China’s “one country, two systems” system is actually working. In contrast with top-down efforts by the government to inspire “patriotism” for China, many ordinary Hong Kongers have become more committed to preserving and even enhancing Hong Kong’s socio-cultural heritage, values and way of life in the face of mainland influence.
So, amid the rather tense and disturbing atmosphere, three aspects surprised me.
The first was the degree of popular activism.
The extent to which protesters young and old, although admittedly mostly young, had become creative and committed, not just to cat-and-mouse tactics they employed such as “flowing like water” — quickly moving from site to site — but also in adapting to police and government actions by utilising social media and other unconventional means, such as forming human chains or origami paper-bird-folding displays to promote their demands.
The perception that Hong Kong youth are much more politically passive than their Western counterparts has been shown to be a myth.
Protest marches on key dates since the 2003 SARS outbreak as well as the 2014 Umbrella Movement had been earlier signs of discontent, but this year’s demonstrations and violence have been on a different level of intensity.
Secondly, the silent majority actually supports the aims of the protesters, even if not always their methods.
The increased violence and vandalism that has come to inconveniently dominate weekend life (even if weekday life now seems to be slowly returning to something normal) has not diminished the strong feelings aroused among ordinary Hong Kongers about their identity and their relationship with the mainland.
Indeed, the Hong Kong government and the Chinese government were shocked when in the local district council elections late last month — the first opportunity for Hong Kongers to use the ballot box to air their views — pro-democracy parties won an overwhelming majority of the seats.
It was undoubtedly a vote against the Hong Kong government’s failure in governance, but it was not a declaration of independence or even a nostalgic dream of a British return.
Even now, almost all Hong Kongers accept that they are part of China, but what they do want is better-defined and fairly-implemented autonomy through political reform.
Finally, the rapid decline in popular trust of the police in particular and establishment institutions in general.
Seven months ago, most Hong Kongers would have still believed in the police force as Asia’s Finest but now the level of distrust in the police, and, arguably, all government institutions, has become significant.
Police must have become exhausted and frustrated in the face of such prolonged protests and violence, but many Hong Kongers have become concerned about police brutality against protesters and sometimes journalists or onlookers.
I was shocked by how many people told me that they now hate the police.
It will take much time for the trust between police and citizens to be rebuilt.
In 2014, the Hong Kong government just waited out the camping protesters, but this time it will need to be more proactive if trust is to be restored.
During her successful campaign to become the chief executive in 2017, Carrie Lam deployed the catchy “We Connect” slogan.
Unfortunately, her determination to push this controversial bill and her failure to engage with the wider community only show how “unconnected” she and her closest advisers have become.
Several Hong Kongers remarked favourably on Prime Minister Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamed bold call for Lam to step down, one of the five demands of the protesters.
Beholden to a tough Chinese government under Xi Jinping whose first instinct is to enforce greater control, Lam and her colleagues may not have much room to manoeuvre, but doing nothing is not an option.
An independent enquiry into the unrest and a wide-ranging dialogue by listening rather than dictating would be a good place for the administration to start.
“Lennon Walls” decorated with Post-its and messages supporting the freedom of Hong Kong and other demands have become common place in the territory.
But radical protesters would do well to remember that one of John Lennon’s classic songs for the Beatles, Revolution, contained the phrase “count me out” when it comes to “destruction”.
But the government side too needs to reassess its attitudes.
Intransigence and ineffective parroting ofcalls for “support” for the police and for “analysis” of Hong Kong’s deep-seated social problems will not bridge the
gaps between divided collective memories and values across the city.
The writer is a Fellow at Centre for Asian Pacific Studies, Lingnan University, Hong Kong, and resides in Melaka