Sources

The Party's Over: Exodus Pangs Of Hong Kong Elite

Passengers at the Hong Kong International Airport
Passengers at the Hong Kong International Airport
Chen Qianer

HONG KONG — Ten old college classmates had rented a room in a five-star hotel. There was plenty of laughing and joking and memories, but a sad feeling somehow lingered. The reunion was really a farewell party.

In two weeks' time, Apple and her family of three will move to London. Tianxin and her husband are planning to leave Hong Kong also, for either Britain or Taiwan.

Proficient in financial management, Tianxin, since the beginning of this summer, has been solicited by friends wanting to know how to open offshore accounts and how to transfer properties abroad. Every now and then, she'd learn that one of her friends is leaving Hong Kong.

Twice emigrants, two different unhappy emotions Tina and her husband, Andee, have a 5-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter. They also have two foreign domestic helpers, a dog and three tortoises— a typical upper middle-class family in this financial city.

Having decided to leave Hong Kong several months back, they have sold their apartment and are temporarily renting a condominium. Tianxin turns to Tina to see her state of mind: "You worked really hard and of course with the returns of a good job and fat salary. Now you are leaving, do you feel you'll have to give up a lot of what you have here?"

"Of course. And we know, for example, that in Canada we won't be able to afford full-time domestic help," Tina responds. Her husband intervenes: "To a certain extent, I have been preparing Tina psychologically."

Too many people who are leaving don't have any concept what emigration is all about – it's to uproot everything. Andee's grandfather left Hong Kong to settle in Canada in the 1970s. Then, one by one, his nine children followed — all except Andee's dad.

But when his parents divorced, they also left respectively, to go and live in Canada, leaving Andee and his younger sister in the care of their maternal grandmother.

The waves of emigration from Hong Kong in the 1980s and 1990s didn't seem to affect Andee until Valentine's Day, 1994. Just after his date with his first girlfriend that night, he went home to find the letter from the immigration office announcing that his application had been accepted and that he'd have to enter Canada within three weeks.

Too many people who are leaving don't have any concept what emigration is all about — it's to uproot everything.

"For my sister and I, we felt our world was suddenly turned upside down … I can still remember that emotion today," Andee recalled. Parachuted into Calgary, in the western Canadian province of Alberta, Andee had to adapt himself to the father with whom he was not familiar, the language and new peers. Though there was no lack of youngsters like him from Hong Kong, he felt out of place.

He finally graduated from college and acclimated to life in Canada. After winning a design award with a Canadian classmate, they were both taken on as interns by a major design company. But it was his classmate who got recruited. Andee decided to go back to Hong Kong.

That was in 2004 when the former British colony's economy was booming. Andee found a design job immediately, with a high salary and had stayed there ever since. Unlike Andee, nobody in Tina's family had ever left Hong Kong, nor did she ever think about living elsewhere. Both worked hard and step by step, climbed to middle level positions in their companies. Even though Andee's mother would pressure them from time to time to join her in Calgary, the idea never attracted the couple.

The widespread protests that started in June 2019, caused first by the proposed bill to allow extradition to China and then by the introduction of the National Security Law this year, totally changed Andee and Tina's perspective on their future.

The impact of the Yuen Long Attack, which occurred in July last year, in which an armed band of mobsters dressed in white indiscriminately attacked civilians and passengers in the Yuen Long subway station, was a turning point.

"I had the television, iPad and two mobiles all turned on that night and was so shocked seeing the surreal scene of violence in a place that's so familiar to me," Andee recalled.

The education of their children worries the young couple too. The school textbooks are being modified while teachers' pedagogic freedom is being narrowed. And they no longer know what to say to the children when the news shows conflicts between police and demonstrators nearly every day.

A recent protest in Hong Kong — Photo: Willie Siawillie Siau/SOPA/ZUMA

More and more colleagues in Andee's company began discussing emigrating. One of them, who already had an Australian passport, reckoned that it's best to sell one's property and leave before the city's real estate market crashes. In fact, the colleague made the move within a month. This triggered Andee's agitation. Recalling his own teenage experience, he decided that the earlier they moved to Canada, the faster his children could adapt.

Having no children, Tianxin did not feel emigration concerned her at first, until she realized that she had been deprived of her freedoms and rights one by one over the past years.

"Is one better off being a second-class citizen as an immigrant?" her mom would say. "Is there anything more unbearable than being discriminated against in one's own country? " Tianxin retorted.

The doldrums of the social atmosphere since the massive months-long Umbrella Movement in 2014 triggered her 10-year plan to emigrate, on condition that she saved up sufficient money first. But that plan has been shortened to five, two and eventually one year.

Is there anything more unbearable than being discriminated against in one's own country?

In recent years, Tianxin has attended all major demonstrations including the annual June 4 protest in memory of the 1989 Tiananmen Square Massacre. But "we have fought and retreated to the point where if one doesn't wish to be arrested, one has to leave…"

Apple and her husband Keith had never imagined leaving Hong Kong until last June, when more than a million people took to the streets asking the Hong Kong government to withdraw the extradition bill that they consider would undermine the special district's judicial autonomy.

"June 21 was a decisive day, " Keith recalled. "We decided that night that we'll leave Hong Kong. The evolution of the past year has made me feel even more grateful that I made this decision early."

What pushed them to leave is their daughter. "Our parents didn't decide whether they should emigrate at their time. But we ought to do it for our offspring so that they won't be still wondering whether they stay or leave in their turn," says Apple. "As long as we are capable, we are going to provide our daughter with a foreign passport. Even if she loves China when she grows up, it'll be her own choice."

Andee lost 10 pounds after making the decision to leave Hong Kong. All kinds of thoughts come to his mind when he closes his eyes every night, like a revolving lantern.

He needs to sort out and dissociate his past 16 years of life, with good timing and order. Tina couldn't bear the idea of telling her parents she is leaving until she and her husband had sold their apartment. Her mom accepted her decision much more openly than she expected while her dad didn't say a word. "He loves me very much and he must be very reluctant, but he didn't want to say anything," she explained.

Apple and Keith have decided not to sell their flat for the moment. But they have sent off all important items to London. Keith felt somewhat like a deserter. "But we can't do anything here. We are not brave. On the other hand, I know many Hong Kongers want to go to Britain."

Ten days after Apple and Keith left for London, the British government declared a further extension of residence rights for the British National Overseas (BNO) passport holders – a status granted by voluntary registration to Hong Kong residents before the transfer of sovereignty to China in 1997.

This means BNO passport holders and their dependents will be able to work and study for five years in Britain before eventually applying for full British citizenship. Upon hearing the news, Tianxin decided immediately that she would also go to Britain with her husband.

For Andee, this is the second departure from his homeland: "When I left for the first time at 16, I was anxious about all I was leaving behind. That was when Hong Kong was at its prime. I don't feel particularly attached anymore. All my closest friends have left."

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Geopolitics

Why This Sudan Coup Is Different

The military has seized control in one of Africa's largest countries, which until recently had made significant progress towards transitioning to democracy after years of strongman rule. But the people, and international community, may not be willing to turn back.

Smoke rises Monday over the Sudanese capital of Khartoum

Xinhua via ZUMA
David E. Kiwuwa

This week the head of Sudan's Sovereign Council, General Abdel Fattah El Burhan, declared the dissolution of the transitional council, which has been in place since the overthrow of former president Omar el-Bashir in 2019. He also disbanded all the structures that had been set up as part of the transitional roadmap, and decreed a state of emergency.

In essence, he staged a palace coup against the transitional authority he chaired.


The general's actions, which included the arrest of Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok, are a culmination of a long period of tension between the civilian and military wings of the council.

A popular uprising may be inevitable

The tensions were punctuated by an alleged attempted coup only weeks earlier. The days leading to the palace coup were marked by street protests for and against the military. Does this mark the end of the transition as envisaged by the protest movement?

Their ability to confront counter revolutionary forces cannot be underestimated.

The popular uprising against Bashir's government was led by the Sudan Professional Association. It ushered in the political transitional union of civilians and the military establishment. The interim arrangement was to lead to a return to civilian rule.

But this cohabitation was tenuous from the start, given the oversized role of the military in the transition. Moreover, the military appeared to be reluctant to see the civilian leadership as an equal partner in shepherding through the transition.

Nevertheless, until recently there had been progress towards creating the institutional architecture for the transition. Despite the challenges and notable tension between the signatories to the accord, it was never evident that the dysfunction was so great as to herald the collapse of the transitional authority.

For now, the transition might be disrupted and in fact temporarily upended. But the lesson from Sudan is never to count the masses out of the equation. Their ability to mobilize and confront counter revolutionary forces cannot be underestimated.

Power sharing

The transitional pact itself had been anchored by eight arduously negotiated protocols. These included regional autonomy, integration of the national army, revenue sharing and repatriation of internal refugees. There was also an agreement to share out positions in national political institutions, such as the legislative and executive branch.

Progress towards these goals was at different stages of implementation. More substantive progress was expected to follow after the end of the transition. This was due in 2022 when the chair of the sovereignty council handed over to a civilian leader. This military intervention is clearly self-serving and an opportunistic power grab.

A promised to civilian rule in July 2023 through national elections.

In November, the rotational chairmanship of the transitional council was to be passed from the military to the civilian wing of the council. That meant the military would cede strong leverage to the civilians. Instead, with the coup afoot, Burhan has announced both a dissolution of the council as well as the dismissal of provincial governors. He has unilaterally promised return to civilian rule in July 2023 through national elections.

Prior to this, the military had been systematically challenging the pre-eminence of the civilian authority. It undermined them and publicly berated them for governmental failures and weaknesses. For the last few months there has been a deliberate attempt to sharply criticize the civilian council as riddled with divisions, incompetent and undermining state stability.

File photo shows Sudan's Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok in August 2020

Mohamed Khidir/Xinhua via ZUMA

Generals in suits

Since the revolution against Bashir's government, the military have fancied themselves as generals in suits. They have continued to wield enough power to almost run a parallel government in tension with the prime minister. This was evident when the military continued to have the say on security and foreign affairs.

For their part, civilian officials concentrated on rejuvenating the economy and mobilizing international support for the transitional council.

This didn't stop the military from accusing the civilian leadership of failing to resuscitate the country's ailing economy. True, the economy has continued to struggle from high inflation, low industrial output and dwindling foreign direct investment. As in all economies, conditions have been exacerbated by the effects of COVID-19.

Sudan's weakened economy is, however, not sufficient reason for the military intervention. Clearly this is merely an excuse.

Demands of the revolution

The success or failure of this coup will rest on a number of factors.

First is the ability of the military to use force. This includes potential violent confrontation with the counter-coup forces. This will dictate the capacity of the military to change the terms of the transition.

Second is whether the military can harness popular public support in the same way that the Guinean or Egyptian militaries did. This appears to be a tall order, given that popular support appears to be far less forthcoming.

The international community's appetite for military coups is wearing thin.

Third, the ability of the Sudanese masses to mobilize against military authorities cannot be overlooked. Massive nationwide street protests and defiance campaigns underpinned by underground organizational capabilities brought down governments in 1964, 1985 and 2019. They could once again present a stern test to the military.

Finally, the international community's appetite for military coups is wearing thin. The ability of the military to overcome pressure from regional and international actors to return to the status quo could be decisive, given the international support needed to prop up the crippled economy.

The Sudanese population may have been growing frustrated with its civilian authority's ability to deliver on the demands of the revolution. But it is also true that another coup to reinstate military rule is not something the protesters believe would address the challenges they were facing.

Sudan has needed and will require compromise and principled political goodwill to realise a difficult transition. This will entail setbacks but undoubtedly military intervention in whatever guise is monumentally counterproductive to the aspirations of the protest movement.

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David E. Kiwuwa is Associate Professor of International Studies at University of Nottingham

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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