At midnight on June 30, 155 years of British rule in Hong Kong cease. The handover to China raises complex questions for the colony's institutions, economy and citizens, with Hong Kong's thriving universities firmly at the core of its people's hopes and fears. The THES looks at the issues involved
Albert Yee traces the history of Hong Kong from barren rock to global entrepot and describes his experiences of life in the colony when he first arrived as a young Asian-American student 50 years ago
It was a hot, steamy day in August 1947 when I first set eyes on Hong Kong. In green waters alive with sampans and junks traversing the beautiful harbour, the converted second world war troopship eased into its berth with 2,000 passengers and myself. Amid the hubbub, I caught that elusive fragrance in the air which gave the place its name - Hong Kong is Chinese for Fragrant Harbour. After I mentioned the scent to relatives who had come from China to guide me, they said correctly that I would not smell it after a day or two. It was only one wonder among many that enthralled me on my way to Lingnan in Canton, where I was to study for one year. Lingnan was one of 15 Protestant universities founded in China, mostly by US missionary groups.
I had been sent to China by my grandfather to learn culture and language while studying at the US University. As most Asian-Americans can understand, ethnic confusion often set in when strangers appraised me only from what they could see. The worst experiences occurred when I did not react as the locals did in the presence of the police and soldiers. Instead of shying away, I stood up to them. So I chastised a magistrate after he nearly ran down my group in Hong Kong, and argued with a Sikh soldier in Shanghai who knocked my rickshaw puller down and beat him brutally for entering his street. My fluent English probably saved me from reprisals. Nevertheless, I was once with a group of US students outside a hotel when I was suddenly struck in the back and collapsed to the ground. Lifting my eyes, I could see a European in tropical whites marching into the hotel with his case and heavy cane. Locals told me that many westerners believed that they had a right to strike Chinese and did it to "keep them in their place". This rampant authoritarianism shook my American sense of human rights, even though racism was a part of life at home.
British rule in Hong Kong began when China was defeated in the first opium war (1840-42). Aggression overcame China's restrictions on trade, chiefly its prohibition of opium imports. Traders had long demanded a port that would be governed by British laws and the principle of free trade. Although Hong Kong became the great opium terminus for western ships and merchants, Anglo-American missionaries, who had been active in south China long before 1841, also moved to the new colony.
Much to the credit of enlightened Chinese, Parsees, British, Americans, missionaries, officials, and merchants of diverse backgrounds and roles, an idealistic spirit evolved, the belief that Hong Kong should represent something loftier than self-gain and materialism. Before Qing China's disarray after the Boxer Uprising (1899-1900), optimists in Hong Kong foresaw China's awakening. After the 1911 revolution, impetus was given to the idea that the stepping-stone at China's door could also be the bridge between East and West, an exemplar of what the Middle Kingdom could become if it only gained modern know-how and leadership. There is no better symbol of that spirit than the formation of the University of Hong Kong.
The university originated with the College of Medicine, founded in 1887. It opened with two students, one being the young Sun Yat-sen, destined to become China's revolutionary father. Among its teachers was James Cantlie, who encouraged Sun's modern thinking during his five years in training. Illustrating how well dedicated British teachers and their Chinese students related in a most dramatic way, Sir James brought about the famous 1896 rescue of Dr Sun from the Qing legation in London after Dr Sun had been kidnapped.
Dr Sun said that his revolutionary ideas originated in Hong Kong, and that while studying at the College of Medicine he was deeply impressed by the orderliness and attractiveness of the city. He said that he could see the contrast with China when he visited his native home, where he had to protect himself and his family with firearms and felt surrounded by corruption and unrest. He asked how Englishmen could have accomplished so much with a barren rock in less than a century.
China's revolution and the growing Japanese threat raised more enthusiasm for a Hong Kong university. When Sir Frederick Lugard became governor in 1907, he embraced the idea and appealed to the community for funds. First to contribute was Hormusjee Nowrojee Mody, a Parsee merchant, while J. H. Scott of John Swire & Sons collected large contributions from business. The Foreign Office was lukewarm about the plan, calling it Lugard's "pet lamb," and insisting that contributions come from China as well, a requirement which Lady Lugard fulfilled by soliciting contributions from Canton.
On March 16 1910, Lugard laid the foundation stone for the new university with Mody, then aged 70 and frail, also participating. The governor said: "It is my belief that the graduates of this university, its doctors of medicine, its scientific engineers, and its trained administrators, will exert an influence which will be immeasurable in the future, among the 400 millions of China's population."
HKU's first vice chancellor, Sir Charles Eliot, wrote in his book, Hinduism and Buddhism: "I cannot share the confidence in the superiority of Europeans and their ways which is prevalent in the West." With an open mind unspoiled by racism, Sir Charles gave HKU a proper start. Before he left Hong Kong in 1918, it was said that HKU had at least one student from each of China's 18 provinces.
In the second world war, Hong Kong's Asians suffered grievously, as did the maltreated British POWs the Japanese regularly marched through the streets. US bombers and submarines made the harbour useless to the Japanese, who burned HKU's library books for want of fuel and closed the schools, except for a handful of Japanese-language primary schools.
After the war, demands for independence in Asia overwhelmed attempts to resurrect colonial rule, except that is in Hong Kong, where the people preferred the British to the Reds. In time, as colonialism faded and more and more Chinese entrepreneurs built flourishing enterprises, Hong Kong became the great world metropolis and entrepot it is today.
By studying and teaching at universities in Hong Kong and Singapore in the 1980s, it was finally possible to fulfil my grandfather's wish that I find my roots. Hong Kong's well-financed and developed educational system is arguably the most positive legacy of British rule.
Although China's educational system has been greatly improved, universities lag behind those in Hong Kong, Singapore, and Taiwan. Funding is poor, professors earn less than taxi drivers and China's rulers impose strict control over students and campuses.
Although Beijing promises that Hong Kong will be autonomous in domestic affairs and remain capitalist, it has dictated far-reaching political changes, such as declaring that nonviolent demonstrations aimed at the government will be treated as sedition punishable by imprisonment. So much more can be said, but suffice it to say that Hong Kong will be China's crucible for all to witness.
Enlightened administration, such as that under recent governors Edward Youde (1982-86) and Chris Patten (1992-97), set standards that cannot be overthrown without dire consequences. After July 1, the universities and schools of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region deserve the long-term vigilance of world educators and their institutions.
Albert H. Yee is a retired professor of psychology and education. He taught in East Asia and the US and is editing Whither Hong Kong: 1840-1997 and Beyond.