Clock tower protest highlights system flaws
By now, the campaign to preserve the Star Ferry clock tower and Queen's Pier have lost the element of spontaneity that once singled it out from other social movements. Whereas the press once had difficulty identifying spokesmen for the campaign, professional activists skilled in giving the right sound bites have since taken over.
Yet, those who care about Hong Kong's development should recognise that the movement to save the Central waterfront's two most iconic features is like no other. It is not just another attempt by anti-establishment activists to exploit a popular cause to challenge an unelected government.
First and foremost, the campaign was not started by the activists or established groups with a track record of taking on - and working with - the government. Instead, it is a movement started by novice campaigners. Participants are predominantly young and their preferred media of communication are the blog and text message. They are from a sector of the community that is regarded by our ruling elite as politically apathetic and indifferent to social issues.
By one account, the campaign was started by several artists, who published an article about the clock tower's fate in a magazine dedicated to promoting sustainable development. The overwhelming response it generated surprised even the instigators. A London-based architect from Hong Kong, not any well-known conservationist, was instrumental in persuading the Star Ferry Company to preserve the tower's old mechanical clock.
In a sense, the accidental campaign to save the clock tower was not unlike the protest 40 years ago that first made the structure a backdrop to history. On April 5, 1966, 27-year-old So Sau-chung staged a hunger strike to oppose a five-cent rise in the ferry fare. His arrest the next day for causing 'obstruction and disturbance' triggered a five-day riot. Mr So's unprecedented struggle was regarded as signifying the emergence of a generation of young people who were prepared to act against social injustice. It was a wake-up call to the colonial administration that its style of government was totally inadequate in tapping their views. Today, the current campaign to keep the clock tower could be seen as exposing the weaknesses of our political system and consultative machinery.
In defence of their decision to press on with the demolition, officials have cited efforts to gauge public views dating back years. These involved talking to district councils, legislators and conservation groups. As a result, compromises were made, such as the decision to keep Edinburgh Place and City Hall. Officials are greatly frustrated by the current protests, which have been mounted by people about whom they know nothing and with whom they have no established channels of communication. As works to reclaim the waterfront have proceeded so far down the track, they cannot be stopped without inflicting huge social and economic costs. We agree.
Our worry is that there is nothing to stop similar rows from emerging. Hong Kong has a dysfunctional political system that does not give the administration a strong mandate to do anything that ruffles anybody's feathers. It is also weighed down by a consultation system dominated by organised minorities that are not necessarily in tune with the views of the broader public.
In his Letter to Hong Kong, broadcast on RTHK's Chinese channel on Saturday, Chief Executive Donald Tsang Yam-kuen rightly recognised that the public persistence in protecting the Star Ferry clock tower was a reflection of people's sense of identity and belonging to Hong Kong. He has ordered a review of existing conservation policy. But what he has not spelled out is how the government could better reach out to the supposedly politically inactive sectors of the population. This is a big challenge that confronts not just the government, but also our political parties, who must also be blamed for failing to articulate those voices of dissent until it was too late.
