However, in commemorating Hong Kong's tenth year under Chinese rule, TIME Magazine notes that not much has really changed in Hong Kong and that its relationship with China is an interdependent one. In other words, the death of Hong Kong laissez-faire is greatly exaggerated. The entire series of articles is worth reading if you're interested in what has happened to Hong Kong since way back when:It had to happen. Hong Kong's policy of "positive noninterventionism" was too good to last. It went against all the instincts of government officials, paid to spend other people's money and meddle in other people's affairs. That's why it was sadly unsurprising to see Hong Kong's current leader, Donald Tsang, last month declare the death of the policy on which the territory's prosperity was built.
The really amazing phenomenon is that, for half a century, his predecessors resisted the temptation to tax and meddle. Though a colony of socialist Britain, Hong Kong followed a laissez-faire capitalist policy, thanks largely to a British civil servant, John Cowperthwaite. Assigned to handle Hong Kong's financial affairs in 1945, he rose through the ranks to become the territory's financial secretary from 1961-71. Cowperthwaite, who died on Jan. 21 this year, was so famously laissez-faire that he refused to collect economic statistics for fear this would only give government officials an excuse for more meddling. His successor, Sir Philip Haddon-Cave, coined the term "positive noninterventionism" to describe Cowperthwaite's approach.
The results of his policy were remarkable. At the end of World War II, Hong Kong was a dirt-poor island with a per-capita income about one-quarter that of Britain's. By 1997, when sovereignty was transferred to China, its per-capita income was roughly equal to that of the departing colonial power, even though Britain had experienced sizable growth over the same period. That was a striking demonstration of the productivity of freedom, of what people can do when they are left free to pursue their own interests.
These days, 10 is practically the new teen—as knowing, and as confused, an age. You think you understand who you are, but you don't, not really. You want to be independent, but you still need adult supervision. You are developing a sense of righteousness, but find it runs up against a pragmatic world where compromise is a necessity. Ten is a neat number, but a messy stage in life.So it is with Hong Kong. At just past midnight on July 1, 1997, in a glittering and poignant ceremony, Hong Kong passed from being the last jewel of an old empire to a component of a new global power. Hong Kong people viewed their city's handover from the U.K. to China with mixed feelings: joy at a fresh start; sadness at seeing the British go; pride over returning to the motherland; apprehension over the future. Today, by most measures, Hong Kong is in great shape, but its outward appearance masks a collective angst. As the territory marks its first decade as a Special Administrative Region (SAR) of the People's Republic of China, it faces an interlocking set of existential questions from which all its once and future challenges flow: Who am I? What do I want to be? Can I be all that I want to be? Will I be allowed to?
For better, and for worse, Hong Kong's future is tied to China's. The one is among the world's freest societies, wildly entrepreneurial and fiercely independent in spirit. The other is a state that, to its enormous credit, has opened up a long-closed nation to an unprecedented degree, and lifted more people out of poverty in a shorter time than our planet has ever witnessed—but which is still authoritarian in its governance, somewhat lawless, and woefully corrupt. Though hugely different in scale, the two learn from, depend on, influence and to an extent intimidate each other. Each needs the other to prosper, yet each also sees the other as potentially harmful. Beijing has fretted about its SAR infecting the mainland with annoying ideas like democracy. Those in Hong Kong worry about China restricting their freedoms, and being a crucible for pollution and disease that can spread to their city. The subtext of this complex relationship is another host of vexing questions. Is Hong Kong a model for China, or a threat? Is Hong Kong changing China, or China changing Hong Kong? Should Hong Kong become more Chinese or more international? "Hong Kongers have no problem being culturally Chinese, but because of their history, many of them still see themselves as Hong Kong Chinese first, differentiated from mainland Chinese," says Zhang Longxi, chair professor of comparative literature and translation at City University of Hong Kong. "That is Hong Kong's strength, and weakness."
