ChatGPT Cannot Fight Court Cases

May 12, 2023

Law students have been using ChatGPT to help with their studies but the tool has its limitations.

By Lilac Ye

Law student Adirana Ma* has been using ChatGPT, an artificial intelligence (AI) chatbot, for studying.

“ChatGPT can help me find highlights of case analysis, a journal, and a judgement,” the Year Two student from the City University of Hong Kong says.

“I use ChatGPT to search case analysis by law firms and translate textbooks and judgements by Hong Kong courts from English to Chinese. Unlike Google Translate, which only translates word by word, ChatGPT does translations with logic,” she adds.

ChatGPT is developed by American research laboratory OpenAI. It is designed to respond to text-based queries and generate natural language responses.

“I am taking five classes this semester. I have to read more than 1000 pages on average every week. I cannot finish my work without AI. ChatGPT helps me find the main points in required readings by summarising them so it really saves my time,” the 26-year-old says.

She pays HK$40 (US$5.1) per month for a virtual private network (VPN) to access ChatGPT as the chatbot is not available for internet users in Hong Kong yet.

“Contract review is part of a lawyer’s work. ChatGPT can check typos and content’s consistency so I think it is possible for AI to take over some work at law firms such as checking mistakes in contracts but it cannot fully replace lawyers,” she says.

“ChatGPT cannot generate arguments and legal advice as there might be legal loopholes. Different arguments are used by lawyers to build cases and arguments for or against cases,” she adds.

Adirana Ma uses ChatGPT to help with her legal studies. (Photo courtesy of Adirana Ma)

Another law student James Zhou* also uses ChatGPT for his studies to save time.

“I use AI for preparing case summaries, polishing articles, and doing legal research,” the City University of Hong Kong student says.

“I was excited when ChatGPT was launched because I thought it could help me with my coursework. But it turns out I have to cross-check answers generated by AI. It does not save much of my time as I expected,” the Year Two student adds.

“I once used ChatGPT to find references for a case, but articles and laws listed in the finding results do not even exist. ChatGPT’s answers are not fully backed by real cases in its database,” he recalls.

Zhou says totally relying on the AI chatbot is “a waste of time”.

“It cannot help you with its reasoning, legal rules and logic,” Zhou says.

James Zhou has used ChatGPT for legal research. (Photo courtesy of James Zhou)

Associate professor Stuart Hargreaves at the Chinese University of Hong Kong’s Faculty of Law says that the use of AI as a study tool is inevitable.

“My concern is largely about whether students will use it appropriately as a tool, or whether they believe it can entirely replace their own need to work. The latter is a dangerous path for them to go down, since they are basically admitting they have no value to add to the AI’s output,” he says.

He thinks the possibility of AI replacing lawyers’ duties depends on how advanced it becomes.

“It is likely for AI to replace much of the document review work and low-level drafting that is the preserve of paralegals and junior solicitors,” he says.

“AI will fundamentally change all kinds of knowledge work, including the study and practice of law. But I think it is hard to predict the exact form of change at this stage,” he adds.

*Names changed at interviewees’ requests.

Edited by Victoria Fong
Sub-edited by Phoebe Chu

An Ark to Save the Planet

May 11, 2023

Join Jenny Quinton on a journey to Ark Eden in Mui Wo, where permaculture, organic farming, and environmental protection are the focus for a sustainable future.

By Lilou Margueron

Former primary school teacher Jenny Quinton is running a permaculture and eco-education centre in a remote site in Mui Wo where she spreads messages about environmental protection.

“Teaching about the environment in the classroom is not effective. If you are going to talk about the environment, you really need to be in the environment,” she explains.

Quinton applies this philosophy to the holiday camps she organises for children, where they can learn about the environment while doing various activities in nature.

“The parents realised their children are pretty deprived here in Hong Kong. They need to get outside.”

The project designer from England, who is in her 50s, hopes that her eco-education centre can also reach out to grown-ups whom she has met through various workshops, permaculture classes, or wellness activities such as yoga, dance and qigong—a practice based on Chinese medicine principles involving meditation, body exercises and controlled breathing.

Quinton also organises other activities such as organic farming, composting, waste management, ecological building and ecological restoration.

“We have teachers and students who usually want to educate themselves on ecology. We have companies who want their organisations to become more eco-friendly or do some services,” Quinton explains.

Reaching the site, visitors are welcomed by farming spaces inspired by permaculture, a term derived from “permanent agriculture”, which refers to systems of agricultural growth designed to be sustainable and self-sufficient.

By applying permaculture ethics of earth care, people care and fair share, Quinton hopes that the centre she has now been running for 17 years can inspire people to care and respect all living creatures.

“We are saving the planet!” she says cheerfully, adding that Hong Kong needs more places like Ark Eden.

Starting from Scratch

The story of Ark-Eden began when Quinton landed in Hong Kong in 1989, on a backpacking trip with her partner, the father of her children. They discovered Lantau after a few weeks and fell in love with it.

They found a house which is about half an hour walk away from Mui Wo ferry pier. She is still living at the site, which is also the current site of Ark Eden.

In her first few years in Hong Kong, Quinton worked as a primary school teacher.

Witnessing fires in the hills started by grave sweepers every year, she joined green associations and has so far planted 37,000 trees, mostly in Lantau island.

In 2004, the Hong Kong government released a Concept Plan to develop Lantau island, including proposals to build a golf course, a logistics park, a theme park, a racecourse, and a spa.

The plan was heavily criticised by environmentalists who feared a negative impact on the island’s conservation. Moreover, local residents worried that it would only benefit overseas tourists and developers.

Quinton and her friends, who had alternative ideas about the island’s future, teamed up and conceived a blueprint of Ark Eden, which was originally designed to be a huge environmental centre in Mui Wo.

When her friend Neil Mc Laughlin, the architect of the project, died from a brain tumour, Quinton promised him she would bring the idea to fruition.

But starting the project from scratch was not easy. Also, she was a single mom at the time.

At first, she thought of creating Ark Eden in an abandoned rural school in Wo Tin village, but was refused the place due to her foreign identity.

“I went to the beach, and I cried for an hour. And I beat the sand. And then I remembered I have a house. I’ll use my house,” she recalls.

There is no developed route to get to Ark Eden, visitors have to hike for half an hour through a forest.

“I never imagined anyone would come this far, because everyone just thinks you need somewhere that is convenient. But the location is actually extremely good for everyone, especially for the kids, walking up and down…they get fit!” Quinton says.

To kickstart the project, Quinton relied on a network of experts affiliated with the Hong Kong green groups she was part of.

“I did not know how to do organic farming, so I invited them and saw what they did, and I learnt the skills through observation,” she says.

When Ark Eden started running in 2006, Quinton had to use her living room as a classroom, where sometimes up to thirty children would pile up to learn about the environment.

Thinking Lantau’s Future

Quinton spends a lot of time thinking about Lantau’s future in light of the government’s development plans for the island.

The controversial Lantau Tomorrow Vision, which plans to build 1,700 hectares of artificial islands along the eastern coast of Lantau, is expected to start in 2026.

In a recent talk she held at a monthly meeting for people interested in environment-related matters, the former teacher presented a plan she wrote for a greener Greater Bay Area.

For her, it all depends on three pillars: environmental protection, eco-education, and regenerative tourism.

“Hong Kong is just this amazing city that is to be treasured, particularly Lantau and its landscape. It is an incredible place and the natural resources are undervalued,”

She hopes that Hong Kong can abandon the “old-fashioned, money is everything mentality” to focus on the long-term needs of younger generations.

“I think if you deeply care for children, then you have to care for the environment. Otherwise, that is really cruel for them,” she says.

Edited by Charlie Chun
Sub-edited by Charmaine Choi

Dying at Home

May 11, 2023

Some patients opt for palliative treatment and return home during their final stages of life.

By Charlotte Wu

Home death service provider Chen Pui-hing learned what a good death is from families that he has helped.

“A good death is a sense of comfort and security that can only be provided by dear ones, not medical equipment,” the 29-year-old funeral director says.

“My main work is organizing funerals. I visit patients who want to pass away at home [before their death]. Then I clean their bodies and transport them to the mortuary when they are gone,” Chen says.

Chen also invites family members to do some tasks such as applying face cream, combing hair, and putting on socks for the ones who passed away at home.

“It is not necessary for family members to participate in the cleaning process. But I know they want to do something for their beloved ones in their last moments. Showing them the cleaning process can assure them their loved ones are treated with care and cautiousness,” the Lingnan University graduate who majored in philosophy says.

“I am all ears when I do the cleaning. Families love sharing memories of their loved ones with me such as having dim sum at restaurants and stories about their neighbors,” he says.

Home death is a form of end-of-life care that allows terminally ill patients who refuse to receive interventional treatments to spend their final days in their homes, rather than passing away in a hospital or hospice facility.

Patients who opt for home death services are discharged from hospitals after evaluation. Doctors visit these patients every 14 days until they pass away.

To avoid startling the neighbors, Chen dresses the departed in casual clothing with masks, glasses, and hats as if they are going to hospitals for a medical appointment. A wheelchair is used when transporting the body to a seven-seater car which will take them to the mortuary.

Chen believes the lack of public education is the biggest challenge when practicing home death service in Hong Kong.

“The public has misconceptions towards home death. Some families worry the transporting process might involve many service helpers and large-size equipment. They want to do it in a subtle way,” he says.

“Some life-and-death associations are providing services in a traditional manner such as transporting dead bodies to the funeral parlor with a stretcher bed, which is completely unnecessary,” he adds.

“Home death is a hard decision to make. It will be easier for family members to take care of the patient if they are placed in the hospital. Home death means that family members witness the pain their loved ones endure and must always cater to their needs before they are gone.”

Three in every ten people want to pass away at home, according to a telephone survey of 1,067 Hong Kong people conducted by the Chinese University of Hong Kong in 2017.

But only 5.5 per cent of Hong Kong people died at home in 2019 as reported by the Census and Statistics Department.

Chan Muk-kwong, the Chief Operation Officer of the Society for the Promotion of Hospice Care (SPHC) says the organization receives about 12 home death cases per year before the pandemic. Over 80 per cent of them are aged over 65.

“More middle-class people are informed about home death. They are more educated and open-minded. However, it is still not a popular choice among grassroots because the service is costly,” Chan says.

The NGO provides palliative care services to patients with life-limiting illnesses, such as cancers or heart failure. They started providing home death services in 2017.

The group charges grassroots patients HK $600 (US $74.4) for each visit, including Comprehensive Social Security Assistance recipients, subdivided housing and public estate residents. Those who are not on welfare have to pay HK $4,800 (US $611.5).

An average of HK $12,000 (US $1,528.7) for cleaning and transportation services is charged for all kinds of patients.

Located in Sha Tin, the Jockey Club Home for Hospice offers 30 self-contained ensuites for palliative patients.
(Photo courtesy of Society for the Promotion of Hospice Care)

Chan observes most patients in Hong Kong now receive short-term treatments and surgeries for severe injuries including heart attack and stroke. Palliative care is not seen as an important medical speciality in Hong Kong.

He suggests three ways for the government to meet the needs of population growth and develop the service.

“Manpower training is essential to develop it [palliative care] into a speciality. Each hospital should establish a hospice care department and wards to serve such patients. Promotion should be done in grassroots communities and elderly centers,” he says.

Hong Kong is the first Asian city to accept palliative care as a medical specialty. But home death cases remain low in the city.

The “Strategic Service Framework for Palliative Care” was developed by the Hospital Authority in 2017 to guide the development of palliative care services in the coming five to ten years.

In a written response to queries from Varsity, the Hospital Authority says they will regularly review the demand for services according to population growth, advancement of medical technology, and healthcare manpower to better meet the needs of patients.

The Hospital Authority aims to strengthen the specialist palliative consultative service in hospitals and train nursing staff to support terminally-ill patients beyond palliative care settings.

Palliative care outpatient and day services are provided in phases. Home care services are also provided via nurse visits, according to the authority.

Edited by Charlie Chun
Sub-edited by Esme Lam

A Rare Disease with No Cure

April 20, 2023

By Yilie Lo

For 44-year-old Alan Ho Chun-lun, simple things in life, such as walking and talking, can become challenges. After a year since his diagnosis, he still suffers from occasional joint pain caused by a rare disease called Adult-Onset Still’s Disease (AOSD).

Ho lost his eyesight and has difficulty walking and speaking after suffering from a cardiac arrest and stroke. In August 2022, he resigned from his job as a secondary school English teacher.

“I used to make HK$75,620 every month before I got AOSD. Now, I have to live on a monthly disability allowance of HK$4,010 from the government. Our whole family is living off my savings. My elder kid is just 9 years old and my wife quitted her job to take care of me full-time,’ Ho, who had taught for 20 years, says.

In November 2021, the former teacher was hospitalized after suffering from two weeks of recurrent fevers. He experienced intermittent loss of consciousness, a nine-minute cardiac arrest, and a stroke.

It took doctors nearly a month to make a correct diagnosis. Ho points out that it was because no specific test is available to detect the disease.

“The doctors could only use the method of exclusion. They gave me medications according to the suspected causes and observed the effectiveness of the medicines on me,” Ho says.

“I sought consultation from medical experts of different specialties. My sample was also sent to Germany for examination,” he adds.

According to the National Organization for Rare Disorders, AOSD is a rare inflammatory disorder which affects between one and 34 people per million. Symptoms vary from high and spiking fevers, joint pain, to others associated with systemic inflammatory diseases, such as having salmon-pink rashes.

Candy*, 41, is one of the few in this city whose story echoes with Ho’s. She was diagnosed with AOSD in 2013.

She suffered from recurrent fevers for three months before she was diagnosed.

The AOSD patient has been running a Facebook page, “Aosd-成人史迪爾氏症 Adult onset still disease” since 2017, sharing information about AOSD and her personal experience battling the illness.

“AOSD is so rare that information about it is very limited. When I was diagnosed with the disease, I felt lost and helpless,” she says.

Providing information on various rare diseases, Rare Disease Hong Kong (RDHK) is the largest support group for rare disease patients in Hong Kong. However, information about AOSD cannot be found on its website. This means that in Hong Kong, no AOSD patients, or their families, have ever registered to be a member of the support group.

Information about AOSD cannot be found on the website of Rare Disease Hong Kong.

“I hope it (my Facebook page) can serve as a platform to build a community of AOSD patients and let them know that they’re not alone,” Candy says.

“AOSD is not a disease with obvious symptoms. It takes a very long time for doctors to make an accurate diagnosis. It is very stressful for patients when they do not know what is happening. I just hope patients can find support from my Facebook page,” Candy adds.

Over the years, she has gained over 250 followers, including AOSD patients from Hong Kong and Taiwan. Her readers exchange their first-hand experiences and encourage one another in the comment sections of her page. They also discuss information about the disease, such as the effectiveness of the medications that they are taking.

Comments under one of Candy’s Facebook page posts.

In the 2022 Policy Address, the government announced that a database for individual uncommon disorders would be established. A cross-border collaboration between China’s national collaborative network for rare disease and the Hong Kong Genome Institute would also be introduced.

Dr. David Lam Tzit-yuen, the Legislative Council member for the Medical and Health Services Constituencies, believes that the Mainland has an advantage over Hong Kong in treating and diagnosing rare diseases.

“It is difficult for local healthcare professionals to recognize a case of AOSD because they lack the experience of diagnosing and treating rare disease patients,” Lam says.

According to him, the Mainland has a larger database of patient information. It is easier for doctors there to find similar rare disease cases, resulting in a higher efficiency of diagnoses.

“In our current public health system, a centralized database of recorded rare disease cases is not yet established. Patients might be referred to different specialists according to their symptoms, so it is a long journey before the correct diagnosis is reached,” he adds.

“The number of rare disease patients and the variety of rare diseases (in the Mainland) are way more than Hong Kong’s. Their health professionals are more experienced. Our system and local health professionals can learn from them through the collaboration,” Lam says.

*Name changed at interviewee’s request.

Edited by Lesley Lam
Sub-edited by Victoria Fong

To Learn, To Respect, To Love

April 15, 2023

School principal Yuon Fuk-lung shares his education philosophy and future insights.

By Jasmine Lam

Secondary school principal Yuon Fuk-lung wakes up at 5 a.m. every morning, spends two hours commuting from Fo Tan to Tung Chung, then to Tai O to reach the Buddhist Fat Ho Memorial College at 7:30 a.m. to greet his students.

“If I don’t love them, how can I come back every single day at 7:30 a.m.? The driving force is love. Students are my sons and daughters,” says Yuon, who has been teaching at the College for 13 years.

He also shares his love with two dogs, a Bernese Mountain called Big Ben, and a Border Collie called Panda. Yuon uses the dogs to teach students to be respectful.

“My education philosophy is respect. If students learn to be responsible, they will be responsible parents in the future. If they learn to respect animals, they will respect humans and nature,” Yuon says.

“Before teaching students how to study, you need to help foster their love for school first,” the principal adds.

To motivate students to go to school, Yuon placed pianos all over the campus and set up a gym that is open to all students.

The principal is pleased to see students play the piano or do training at the school gym during his lunchtime strolls around the school.

Yuon wants to help students reach their full potential on top of academic development, hence he encourages students to develop their talents in other activities such as rugby, cycling, and hiking.

“Instead of being involved in the rat race in academic excellence against other top tier schools, we focus on excelling in niche sports and make it our strength,” Yuon says.

His hard work paid off. A student won the 2021-2022 A.S. Watson Group in HK Students Sports Outstanding Performance Award in Rugby. Another student won the 2021-2022 Athletes of the Year Award.

In 2019, he cycled with four students and one teacher from Hong Kong to Beijing in 31 days to raise funds for orphans whose parents died of AIDS.

“My inner thigh kept bleeding during the trip,” Yuon says. But the adventure strengthened his bonding with the students and cultivated their confidence.

“How successful we are is not determined by how capable we are, but how persistent we are. Many children scored well in the DSE exam, but only five students from Hong Kong stepped out and cycled to Beijing,” he adds.

*Yuon Fuk-lung talks to students during lunchtime.*

How He Got Started

Before he joined the school, Yuon was a professor teaching sociology at the University of Hong Kong, the Chinese University of Hong Kong, and the City University of Hong Kong for over 20 years in total.

He gave up his career as a university professor to serve as a secondary school principal in this rural district in 2009.

“I want to go to the lowest band school to help children,” the principal says.

Yuon did not expect to work at the school for so long when he took the job. Commuting time was one of the main concerns. But he changed his mind after he saw the plight of the disadvantaged.

“My wife has been offered promising business opportunities. My son and daughter have excelled academically, so I can continue working at the secondary school without strain,” Yuon says.

“I was a scholar sitting in the office, reading books and enjoying coffee. I hated sweating. But I realised I cannot help the students if I simply apply teaching methods I used at universities to this school,” Yuon says.

He has been participating in Oxfam Trailwalker for over 10 years as he believes that sports and willpower can change students’ learning attitudes.

“Man can be destroyed, but not defeated,” he says.

His Future Plan

The principal plans to retire before turning 65 and is now looking for a successor to continue his education philosophy.

“Educators should focus on the students themselves more than the academic results and teach students in accordance with their aptitude,” the school principal says.

After retiring, Yuon says he might pursue a Ph.D. degree, explore the field of Chinese medicine, or write a book. He also wants to spend more time with his family.

“Every kid is born talented and smart, just that they come from different social backgrounds and require different efforts to realise their potentials,” he adds.

Sub-edited by Yap Ying Ye

High Cost of COVID Drug Impacts Mainlanders

April 13, 2023

By Sean Pan

Yan Liu, a housewife from Guangzhou, China, spent RMB ¥8,200 (US $1200) for a packet of Paxlovid in late December, 2022.

Weeks before that, the Chinese government dropped its zero-COVID policy, easing COVID-19 testing and quarantine rules. After this measure, infection cases increased dramatically in many mainland China cities.

Alongside the skyrocketing COVID-19 infection number, the price of Paxlovid increased more than 3.5 times from its original price of RMB ¥2,300 (US $335).

Like many people in China, Yan scrambled for this foreign oral treatment approved by Beijing in December, during the peak of the inflation.

“I bought the drug in case anyone in my family gets infected for the second time since catching COVID-19 again can bring even more serious health problems,” the 42-year-old woman says.

All family members of Liu were tested positive in December, 2022, except her seven-year-old son.

“I learned about Paxlovid from my peers. After that I noticed someone selling it in a WeChat group chat for parents in my child’s school,” Liu says.

Scalpers sell and promote Paxlovid on WeChat.

The supply shortage of the drug has fostered a black market in China. Yan bought her Paxlovid from a scalper on WeChat. After spending RMB ¥8,200 (US $1200), she has not used any of the medicine yet.

“I will not regret buying Paxlovid. It is about health, an essential thing. Money should be spent on health,” she says.

According to the National Medical Products Administration (NPMA) of China, the drug is an investigational medicine used to treat mild to moderate COVID-19 patients.

Pfizer, the manufacturer of Paxlovid, writes on its website that “Paxlovid is an investigational medicine because it is still being studied and there is limited information about the safety and effectiveness of using Paxlovid to treat people with mild-to-moderate COVID-19.”

May Lee*, who lives with her 10-year-old son and husband in Guangzhou, also bought 30 tablets of Paxlovid. She bought the medicine from a private clinic without requiring a prescription in January this year.

“I paid RMB ¥3,400 (US $500) for the drug. It is an amount that I can accept. My family and I might not need to take this medicine but having it ready at home is always nice. I can also send it to my parents or other elderly in the family if they need it,” the 35-year-old accountant says.

“I learned about Paxlovid in early November, 2022, before catching COVID a month later in mid-December. But the price was too high then, costing around RMB ¥7,000 (US $1,010),” she says.

In a bid to learn more about how the drug is being transacted, a Varsity reporter posed as a potential buyer in late January. The reporter was offered RMB ¥4,300 (US $620) for 30 tablets of the medicine by a scalper named Sir Yi on WeChat.

“I got the medicine mainly from private clinics all around China. I had sold the drug to more than 50 customers in the past two months,” says the scalper, who claims to be based in Shenzhen.

“The medicine can ease symptoms of COVID-19 and be used by people of all ages without causing any allergies or side effects,” he says to the Varsity reporter.

“The price has been stable for a while and the demand is still high as there are no substitutes. You should buy the medicine even if you have already been infected. Buying Paxlovid is always a good idea. Prices might go up again when there is a further shortage,” Sir Yi claims.

Screenshot of a Varsity reporter talking to Sir Yi, a scalper of Paxlovid, on Wechat.

While many people had resorted to underground channels to buy the drug at inflated prices, Paxlovid is now available on different online platforms at a lower price. Platforms like MeiTuan medical and JD medical sell the drug at the price of around RMB ¥2500 to RMB ¥2800 (US $360 to US $400), a few hundred more than the official pricing. However, these platforms only supply a fixed amount of Paxlovid daily, leaving them unable to fulfil the high demand.

Professor Grace Wong Lai-hung of the Department of Medicine and Therapeutics at the Chinese University of Hong Kong says Paxlovid is a helpful medicine to cure COVID-19 with minimal side effects.

Wong adds that Paxlovid can be taken by most patients, apart from those taking other medicines as there may be drug interactions.

“The chaos in Mainland China seems unreasonable. It is wrong to buy or sell any medicine without a legal prescription or to inflate the price, making it unaffordable for certain patients,” she says.

“However, in the Mainland, Paxlovid as a valid treatment for COVID-19 is still worth purchasing if it is necessary to help save a life,” she adds.

*Name changed at interviewee’s request

Edited by Lesley Lam

Mainland Couples: We Don’t Want Children

April 3, 2023

Young couples in China refuse to give birth to children.

By Cynthia Hu

Married for eight years, business consultant Amanda So has decided not to have children so that she can have a good life with her husband.

“I enjoy doing my work and having my free time. Having children will worsen my quality of life,” the 33-year-old working woman from Guangdong says.

So and her husband both believe they can have a better life without children.

“My husband is a lawyer, and our annual income is about RMB ¥2.5 million

(US $367647). I can spend all my money on shopping, especially handbags. The price of all my luxury bags ranges from ¥50000 (US $7309) to ¥100000 (US $14618). I spend about RMB¥100000 (US $14706) a year on shopping,” she says.

“We can also go traveling whenever we want. We flew to Shanghai every month and spent three days at Disneyland in the past two years even during the pandemic. If we have children, we cannot do this because we need to take care of children,” she adds.

So uses her monthly income to buy luxury bags. (Photo courtesy of Amanda So)

But her parents do not share her view.

“My parents think it is better to have children so that they can take care of us when we are old. I disagree, but I don’t say anything to avoid arguments,” So says.

“I think more and more married couples will not have children in China. The government will provide better healthcare and elderly care services for people like us,”

According to the data released by National Bureau of Statistics in January 2023, China had 1.412billion people at the end of 2022, 850,000 fewer than at the start of this year. It is the first population decline in China in six decades.

The number of newborns fell from 10.62 million in 2021 to 9.56 million in 2022, as married couples like So are reluctant to give birth.

Though the Chinese government scrapped the one-child policy in 2016 and introduced the three-child policy in 2021, the population is still declining.

Speaking in a press conference in September 2022, Wang Haidong, the director of the Aging Department of the National Health Commission said the population of people aged 60 and above would exceed 400 million, accounting for more than 30 per cent of the total population around 2035. He warned that China is facing a serious aging population problem.

Measures to boost the population have been introduced in some provinces in China.

In Sichuan, a province of 81 million people in southwest China, local authorities lifted all quota imposed on the number of children families can have in January 2023.
Wang Haha, a 37-year-old woman from Jiangsu Province, also thinks life is better without children.

“I want to focus on my work. I have no time to take care of a child. And to be honest, I don’t like children at all. I don’t get along with children, and I hate some of my relatives’ children. They have bad manners,” the employee of a state-owned enterprise says.

Wang observes many friends are busy taking care of their children.

“Some children have health problems and my friends have to do frequent hospital visits. Medical spending is expensive. It is also costly to cover children’s education expenses,” she says.

Though Wang and her husband both have full-time jobs, she thinks they do not have enough resources to raise a child.

“When I just got married, my husband planned to have children. But I insisted on not having children and threatened divorce. My husband is a good guy, and he understands my concerns and thinks from my perspective. He now shares my views,” she says.

Wang enjoys watching her favorite television series when her husband exercises next to her. They cook together and hug each other when watching movies.

“We can go out for a walk or go on a trip when we want to. That is my ideal way of life,” she says.

“My friends who have children envy me now. They think having no children is a smart decision, as sometimes children are troublesome.”

Cameron D. Campbell, a Chair Professor in the Division of Social Science at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, says the declining population in China is an inevitable trend.

“That’s just going to happen. People are not having children because they cannot afford it, they don’t have time and they don’t feel confident. It is a combination of society, financial, time pressure, career pressure. People don’t feel prepared in terms of income pressure, housing, and competitive education,” he explains.

Cameron also points out that it is difficult for women to balance career and family which is also the reason for the decline in fertility.

“There are a lot of women out of the labor force right now because they are taking care of children,” Cameron says.

He adds the government can increase the retirement age, improve education to increase labor productivity, and provide better infrastructure for the elderly.

To boost the Chinese birth rate, Cameron says it is important to reduce the cost of education and the pressures that prevent women from remaining in the labor market after they have children.

“Some people will respond by having more children, but it probably will not have an obvious effect,” he says.

Sub-edited by Fiona Dongye

Stationery in the Digital Age

March 29, 2023

Love for pens and papers never fades even in the digital era.

By Lorraine Chiang

Trying to make her notes as pretty as possible, Emily Tang Yan-Tung has tried numerous notebooks and pens that lead her to fall in love with stationery.

The 18-year-old student has spent more than HKD 2,500 (USD 318) on over 100 pens and around HKD 1500 (USD 191) on 100 notebooks.

Her journey as a stationery lover began in secondary school when she saw her teacher’s colorful blackboard writings. To match her notes with the blackboard writing, she bought pens in the same color as her teacher’s chalk markers.

“Back then, I came up with a few ways to make my notes look aesthetic such as using calligraphy pens,” says the social work major student from the Chinese University of Hong Kong.

Other than pens, she also likes experimenting with different types of paper.

“For drawing, I use kraft paper. I like the color combination of brown kraft paper and grey pencil marks. As I find white paper ugly for note-taking, I use Muji’s cream-colored paper instead. Then I use grid paper for Chinese and lined paper for English,” Tang says.

Emily Tang Yan-Tung doing sketching on brown kraft paper. (Photo courtesy of Emily Tang Yan-Tung)

“When I brainstorm essay ideas, I write on many pieces of paper. I lay them side by side which allows me to see everything at once. But digital gadgets only provide a scroll function or zoom-in and out function. I cannot see my ideas altogether,” she says.

She believes stationery is irreplaceable even though she often uses digital gadgets for her study out of convenience.

“An iPad with a matte screen protector is not even close to tactile feedback of pen and paper,” Tang says.

CUHK student Paul Ip Pui-Hei, who also loves stationery, has ventured into the fountain pen world since he worked part-time at a bookstore in 2022. The 18-year-old stationery addict has spent around HKD1,500 (USD191) on fountain pens in nine months.

“My colleagues have taught me a lot about fountain pens such as how to refill the pen ink, ways to differentiate fountain pen nib sizes and more,” the Year One student says.

Ip is fascinated by the charm of fountain pens. “I like to have some “ceremonial” things to spice up my life. I like to take things slow in the simple parts of my life, and using a fountain pen allows me to experience those small pleasures,” he says.

The student also cherishes the warmth of handwritten messages.

“WhatsApp messages usually sound cold and identical, which shows no effort of our connection. But everyone’s handwriting is unique, ” he says.

Another fountain pen fan Ng Chuen-Pei turns his passion for stationery into a retail business, Muze Pens, which he sees as an “oasis” for his customers.

The collectibles shop, located in Sham Shui Po, provides fine writing instruments, journals, papers, fountain pen inks and other pen accessories.

“Stationery and digital worlds do not contradict one another, they complement each other instead,” Ng says.

His company uses digital platforms, such as Instagram and Facebook, for business communication. However, when it comes to writing self-reflection, he prefers pens and paper.

Ng Chuen-Pei creates an Instagram account for business communication of Muze Pens.

“Sometimes you are all by yourself with just your notebook and pen. At that moment, you can self-reflect without all of this fast-paced information flooding in your brain”

Like Ng, Tony Chan loves stationary so much that he started an online store in 2017. He now has a physical store in Mong Kok.

“Most of my physical store customers are fountain pen beginners or people who need help with fountain pen problems, while my online customers are experienced fountain pen lovers,” Chan says.

His customers buy his products out of a need for satisfaction. “When you write, you solely focus on writing and forget about other problems. In this way, people can relieve their stress,” Chan says.

Edited by Phoebe Chu
Sub-edited by Karmen Yip

Revival of handwritten cards in the digital age

March 29, 2023

Handwritten cards make a comeback in the digital age as people crave a personal touch.

By Angel Yu

University student Kay Yu Nga-kei, once an enthusiast for writing cards for her loved ones, has reignited her passion in sending out handwritten cards on special occasions like birthdays and festivals since her visit to a birthday card exhibition.

Writing handmade cards for friends and family was her childhood habit, but the 20-year-old turned to social media and instant messaging apps as she grew up. She restarted the habit after being inspired by the exhibition.

“Handwritten words convey the writer’s emotions, style, and personality which makes it unique and more intimate to the receiver. Each of us has a unique handwriting style, something a keyboard does not have,” Yu says.

“Cards can be physically preserved. I enjoy the feeling of spotting handwritten cards and letters in a bunch of papers mixed with receipts and exercises when I am tidying my desk. They are like time machines that make me travel back in time,” she adds.

Yu went to The Happy Birthday 366 Exhibition at Oi! Glasse in North Point designed by artist Hikoko Ito. Held in October 2022, it featured 366 mailboxes, each carrying a birthday card written by Ying Wa Primary School and S.K.H. St. Michael Primary School pupils.

Setting of the exhibition (Photo courtesy of Yuk-kuen Suen)

With 366 Art motifs Hikoko created from the Chinese character for “happiness” featured on the mailboxes’ covers, visitors found their destined mailbox according to their birth dates.

Search list for destined mailbox for visitors (Photo courtesy of Hikoko Ito)

Each visitor could take a card from a mailbox of their birthday and write down their own messages in new cards for their birthday twins, contributing to a cycle of blessings.

Visitors receive cards from mailboxes. (Photo courtesy of Yuk-kuen Suen)

Yu received a card from the mailbox with a line saying: “I am good at uncoloured art.” and a drawing of Peppa Pig.

“I could tell it was written by a zestful kid judging by the pencil strokes. It made my day. I have always loved works by kids. The embodiment of innocence offers pure happiness,” the Early Childhood Education major student says.

Card received by Nga-kei Yu (Photo courtesy of Nga-kei Yu)

In return, she left positive messages like “I wish you a fabulous [and] wonderful day,” and “Do you know that you are the best version of yourself because you’re always the best?” at the exhibition.

Card sent by Nga-kei Yu (Photo courtesy of Nga-kei Yu)

Inspired by the exhibition after experiencing a long-lost nostalgia, Yu wrote five small notes to her loved ones.

“I want to remind them of how much I care about them and how great they are. I wish to continue spreading the sense of connectedness I experienced in the exhibition,” Yu says.

Yu’s mother Anssie Suen Yuk-kuen was one of the recipients of Yu’s loving notes. She also went to the exhibition and picked up this heart-warming habit alongside her daughter.

“If I want to leave my kids a message before I sleep, I will write them a memo and put it on a desk,” the 54-year-old housewife says.

The messages are reminders of breakfast in the oven or rice cooker, and greetings like “Have a happy school day, fighting!”

“I actually look forward to their replies. If I WhatsApp them, it is very likely that I will just see blue ticks or a sticker,” Suen says.

The 54-year-old believes that handwritten notes help her identify the most important people in life whom she would write to. “The act of picking a card is already a contribution of one’s time. Then you also have to spend time thinking and writing,” she says.

Ito has similar thoughts. “The whole experience starts way earlier than the moment you have your first word written down. The moment of creativity starts way before that,” she says.

“The whole process brings you joy more than you ever noticed. You miss out a lot in life if you have never experienced such moments of happiness,” the artist adds.

Hikoko Ito at the exhibition (Photo by courtesy of Lung-tai Ngai)

Hikoko Ito sees sending out handwritten blessings as a step-by-step ritual that has to be proceeded with care.

“First, I have to sit in a comfy chair under good lighting. Then, I need to clear my mind. After that, I will choose a piece of paper I like to write in a preferred manner. Ceremonial polity evokes a sense of ritual,” she says.

To Ito, handwriting is more than a simple communication tool. “It is not a basic need. It is about the enjoyment you get at the end of the whole process,” Ito says.

Ito believes handwriting reveals the writer’s emotion and state of mind, so handwritten creations are more expressive and intense. “When you write, you infuse the note with emotional energy and it is almost like giving a piece of yourself away,” she says.

Assistant professor Yang Tian from the School of Journalism and Communication of the Chinese University of Hong Kong points out that handwriting allows us to step away from the hyper-digital world.

“Typewriting allows you to edit before sending. But it is hard for people to edit handwriting unless you rewrite. Therefore, the writer is more mindful of the content written,” Yang says.

“This form allows users to slow down, which prevents the abuse of technologies that are pervasive in our daily lives,” the research specialist in digital media adds.

Edited by Charmaine Choi
Sub-edited by Victoria Fong

An I-Koi-Nic Journey

March 29, 2023

A longtime member of Hong Kong’s Koi fish community shares what he does and how he got here.

By Liam Hordijk

Despite having about 100 Koi, Aaron Lit Ying-yeung is able to tell them apart.

“Each Koi has a different and unique pattern,” the 56-year-old says, adding that he used to name his Koi fish, but has stopped as he cannot remember so many names now.

Koi, or nishikigoi, are coloured carp that symbolise good fortune. Lit says that some Chinese people buy the fish believing that they will bring good feng shui and positive energy.

There are many competitions hosted by Koi organisations – such as the Belgian Koi Society and the Koi Club Singapore – held in places like China and Japan to determine the most beautiful Koi every year.

Lit adds that a quality Koi, especially award-winning ones, can be worth a lot.

“One can be sold for USD $1.8 million dollars (HKD $14.1 million). It’s quite crazy,” Lit says.

Lit has raised several award-winning Koi in his own fish farm – measuring around 40,000 square feet – in the New Territories, since the 90s.

They include a Koromo Showa that took home this year’s 80-to-85 cm division champion prize at the 35th Hong Kong Koi Show.

“Whenever she joins a competition she wins something,” Lit says, adding that she won her first prize in 2017, and has done so on five occasions up until now.

Judges appraise a Koi on body shape, colour, and pattern. Lit points out that an ideal Koi would have a big, long, and symmetrical body shape, rich colours, and a well-defined pattern.

Lit says the rarity of a quality Koromo Showa like his own gets it additional points from judges. He adds that few breeders want to raise this kind of Koi because they are not known to sell for a lot.

A Koromo Showa has a white base with red markings, and blue-black shapes on top of or connected to its red areas.

Aaron Lit Ying-yeung measuring one of his farm’s Kohaku – a white-bodied Koi with red markings.

Visiting his Koi farm at least twice a week, Lit says, “I will stay there for around two hours, because there’s a lot of things to do.” He has to observe the condition of the fish, refill the solar-powered feeders, and check the electric pumps.

When he is not at the farm, the farm’s landlord living close by would help look after the fish.

One of Aaron Lit Ying-yeung’s solar-powered Koi feeders at his farm.

Lit says his favourite part of the visit is the final step – meeting with some of his friends from the Hong Kong Koi Club who have their own farms in the same area. After their caretaking chores, they bond whilst eating together nearby.

“We call it ‘chui shui’ in Cantonese (吹水; chit-chatting in English)”. We treasure this time, talking about Koi or other things,” he says.

“We treasure this time, talking about Koi or other things,”

Errand Runner Turned Expert

Lit’s love for Koi began when he was in his final year at university, whilst running an errand for his then-girlfriend’s family. Believing Koi would bring the family good fortune, they sent Lit to purchase some for their newly built fish tank.

He became fascinated with Koi because, unlike marine fish, every one of them has a noticeably unique pattern.

“At that moment I fell in love with Koi. After that I joined the Hong Kong Koi Club. And then I started to buy and raise Koi,” Lit says.

He also finds excitement in raising each Koi to their full potential, which he compares to chasing a dream.

“When a dream comes true, it will give you a lot of satisfaction, though of course sometimes a dream cannot come true,” Lit says.

After 33 years as a member, Lit is now an honorary president of the Hong Kong Koi Club, an organisation with about 100 members. Lit says that although he was not a founding member, he worked very hard for the club to earn the top position.

When Lit first joined he discovered that the community included some upper class people, such as listed company CEOs and entrepreneurs.

“But when we go together to visit fish farms, we are just like friends,” the 56-year-old says.

Seeing many of his friends from the club being self-employed inspired him. He left the South China Morning Post, where he worked in the property advertising sales department immediately after graduation, and established his own advertising firm.

“When a dream comes true, it will give you a lot of satisfaction,”

Joining the club also led him to begin his journey of becoming a certified judge (CJ) – the highest level possible – for Zen Nippon Airinkai (ZNA), a body that provides judging officials for Koi competitions.

It was a long process that took Lit a total of 12 years that he attended 11 competitions, six seminars, and three examinations. He worked his way up from being a Koi club member, trainee judge, local judge, assistant CJ, and finally, a CJ.

Aaron Lit Ying-yeung as a judge in Japan. (Photo courtesy of Aaron Lit Ying-yeung)

Lit says that his Koi journey has enriched his life in many ways, but notes the achievement he is proudest of is the special relationships he has formed with fellow enthusiasts along the way.

“Winning the Koi competition with my own Koi, and becoming a certified judge made me feel very successful.” he says. “But after so many years, I treasure the friends I made around the world much more.”

“Because we share a common interest in Koi – and there’s not any profit or business interests involved as this is just a hobby for us – my friendships with these people feel quite real and pure,” Lit adds.

More Good Times Ahead

Before the pandemic, Lit and his wife visited Japan five or six times a year to attend Koi competitions but had been forced to stay in Hong Kong due to COVID-19.

“Now I can freely go anywhere to visit my friends and judge in competitions,” he says.

Lit is also hopeful about spending more time at his Koi farm when he retires but has no plans to expand its size. He will continue raising Koi that are young and inexpensive instead of buying Koi that already have accolades.

“Trying to judge which Koi has the most potential, then raising it to compete is a much more satisfying process,” he says.

The ZNA judge believes those who are interested in Koi should also go to competitions to familiarise themselves with what truly impressive Koi look like.

Lit says, “When you look at other people’s Koi, you will discover how beautiful a Koi can be.”

Edited by Yap Ying Ye
Sub-edited by Karmen Yip