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Shadow of White Terror

Freedom of speech is under China’s pressure in the workplace in Hong Kong.

By Lasley Lui & Regina Chen

Dismissal for Facebook posts 

On August 27, Cathay Dragon flight attendant Mixe Lee received a call from his company asking him to return to Hong Kong at once upon his arrival at a hotel in Shanghai. 

While waiting for his return flight, Lee received another call from his former colleague Rebecca Sy, former Cathay Dragon cabin crew union chairwoman who was dismissed by the company after posting three Facebook posts related to the anti-ELAB movement in her private account. Sy voiced her support and gave Lee some advice. “She was even more nervous than me,” the 30-year-old ex-steward recalls.

The following day, Lee attended a meeting with his bosses who showed him screenshots of two Facebook posts and asked him if he wrote those posts on the social media platform. One was about alleged police brutality against pro-democracy protesters. 

Lee denied writing those posts, though he actually did. Knowing how Sy was sacked, Lee wanted to explore another way of dealing with the interrogation to see if the result would be different. He was then asked to submit an explanation letter within 48 hours to provide evidence that could prove the Facebook posts were not written by him. 

On September 5, Lee attended another meeting with managers to learn that he was sacked. 

He demanded the reason for his contract termination. “I can’t tell you anything about it,” said one of the managers. Lee walked out of the meeting room and broke down in tears in front of his colleagues who were waiting for him there. 

“I felt so disappointed and shocked during the meeting,” Lee says. He handed in his staff ID card and waved goodbye to his three-and-a-half-year career in the sky. 

Mixe Lee, former Cathay Dragon flight attendant, is gazing into the distance.

“White terror” in the airline industry 

Lee is not an isolated case. According to Hong Kong Confederation of Trade Unions (HKCTU), until September 29, 36 aviation professionals have been sacked or forced to resign under similar situation, including 26 from Cathay Pacific and six from Cathay Dragon, the airline’s regional arm which operates most of the Cathay group’s flights to Mainland China.

Carol Ng Man-yee, head of HKCTU, criticises the carrier for spreading “white terror” among its employees to suppress freedom of speech. “The so-called white terror can make people censor themselves, regulate themselves and eventually silence themselves,” the labour activist says. 

Cathay comes under pressure from China, which has become a major source of tension. On August 9, the Civil Aviation Administration of China (CAAC) issued a severe aviation safety risk warning to one of the world’s top airlines based in Hong Kong that does business with China, stating that Cathay employees who “support or take part in illegal protests, violent actions, or overly radical behaviour” will be banned from staffing flights to Mainland China or using Chinese airspace. 

Later that same day, in response, a Cathay spokesman said: “There is zero tolerance for any inappropriate and unprofessional behaviour that may affect aviation safety.” The company has also updated its employee guidelines that include a section on social media posts, encouraging staff to “speak up” via the whistle-blowing policy if they see any breach of the code of conduct or the law. 

Since Hong Kong’s anti-ELAB protests broke out in June, the airline industry has been actively playing a role in the city’s large-scale social movement. Aviation workers launched two online petitions, calling upon the government to respond to protesters’ demands. They also organised a peaceful assembly themed “Fly with You” at the airport in July, attempting to draw international visitors’ attention to Hong Kong’s pro-democracy movement.  

On August 5, protesters kicked off a citywide general strike, in the hope of pressing the government to make changes. Ng recollects that as soon as the clock struck midnight, messages from chat groups formed by aviation workers started popping up on her phone. Ng, a former British Airways flight attendant, says that by 2am that morning, almost half of the airport workers who were supposed to report to duty on that day had called in sick. “Even before the rally started, we already knew that the airport employees had announced their victory ,” she says. 

Figures from HKCTU suggest that more than 2,300 aviation employees joined the strike, leading to cancellation of 224 flights to and from the international transportation hub. Ng says on a usual day, about 3,200 employees work at Cathay Pacific and 900 work at Cathay Dragon. She believes that about 1,200 Cathay Pacific workers and 590 Cathay Dragon staff did not go to work on August 5. Cathay chairman John Slosar said the company respected its staff’s opinions at a press conference on August 7. 

“They eventually got on the Chinese Communist Party’s nerves,” says Ng. Days after the biggest strike in Hong Kong in decades, Cathay Pacific, the most high-profile corporate in the movement, fell victim to Beijing’s pressure on Hong Kong’s businesses. After the CAAC released its directive on August 9, the company’s chief operating officer Rupert Hogg and chief customer & commercial officer Paul Loo Kar-pui stepped down and the number of employees who claimed that they got fired because they supported the protests increased.

Ng thinks the practice of placing workers’ political values above their professionalism is dangerous. Ng says if employers only hire people who are loyal to Beijing, they may place less emphasis on candidates’ professional knowledge. “It concerns safety issues and maintenance of professional standards,” she adds. Ng says many experienced pilots and flight attendants have been sacked during the past several months while they were the backbone of the aviation safety. 

Hong Kong protesters staged a three-day sit-in at the airport in August.

Jeremy Tam Man-ho, a member of the Legislative Council and former pilot, resigned from Cathay Pacific Airways on August 20, ending his 18-year career. As a legislator from the pro-democracy camp, Tam says his ties with the company had resulted in attacks from the pro-Beijing camp targeting the airline. He hopes his resignation could help protect the airline from unjust accusation and bring an end to the political gales the aviation industry had got caught in. 

The pro-democracy lawmaker observes loopholes in the current law which fails to protect the rights of the Cathay employees who have been sacked for their speech on social media. 

Under Hong Kong’s Employment Ordinance, if an employee is dismissed other than for substantial reasons, he or she can claim for reinstatement or re-engagement against an employer for unreasonable dismissal. The Labour Tribunal will issue a reinstatement or re-engagement order if the Tribunal considers that it is appropriate and practicable. The employer shall pay to the employee a further sum, amounting to three times the employee’s average monthly wages and subject to a ceiling of $72,500, if he or she refuses to execute the order. 

In 2018, the Legislative Council vetoed the amendments proposed by Labour Party lawmaker Fernando Cheung Chiu-hung who sought to raise the remedy to six times the employee’s average monthly wages and lift the ceiling. Cheung criticised that employers only needed to pay a very low price for rooting out a thorn in their flesh.

“We urge the people to increase the penalty,” Tam says. “But in the Legislative Council, the majority is pro-Beijing. They just don’t want to increase the penalty to protect our employees in Hong Kong.” Tam also points out that the lack of collective bargaining rights is another factor that weakens Hong Kong workers’ negotiation power. 

“It is not just Cathay Pacific’s issues,” says Tam. “It can also extend to any other industries, not only the airline [industry].” He cites China’s boycott on Taipan Bread & Cakes and the National Basketball Association as examples. Both of the brands faced backlash in the Chinese market after their executives expressed support for Hong Kong protests on social media. Blizzard Entertainment, the American gaming company, punished a Hong Kong-based e-sports player after he shouted “Liberate Hong Kong; revolution of our time” during a post-game stream. 

Freedom trembling with fear

The shifting political landscape and growing strong-arming by China are not only changing the way businessmen do business in the global financial hub, but also fuelling a chilling effect on ordinary people in their daily lives. 

Allan Au Ka-lun, professional consultant of the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, says that he could not recognise his friends on Facebook because they have changed their names and profile pictures to hide their identities in fear of being reported by acquaintances for posting something that is not in favour of the government. 

“It seems like everything is normal, but everything is abnormal,” says Au. “You are afraid of expressing your opinions. You don’t trust other people, your friends, your boss, or even your parents, your relatives.” He says this kind of distrust between people is “terrifying”. 

As a former reporter at Television Broadcasts (TVB), Hong Kong’s largest free TV station, which has become the target of protesters after being accused of a pro-Beijing bias, Au makes an analogy between the self-censorship pressure in the newsroom he personally experienced decades ago and the white terror which has recently cast a shadow over many companies in the city. “This is control through organisational fabric,” says Au. “Organisational control is not an explicit threat. No one will tell you what to do or what not to do. No one will tell you [whether] you will be punished,” Au says. He adds what authorities need to do is just to control the boss who has the immense power to decide whom to hire and fire. 

He refers the organisational control as party-state capitalism, a term used to describe the economy of Taiwan under the authoritarian military government of the Kuomintang. “You don’t have to use any harsh measures to control people,” Au says. “Once you have money and capital, you can have more civilised ways to control people.” 

Au thinks the white terror will not end, and people will get more used to it. 

Lee shares Au’s observation that the climate of fear has no end in sight. Lee recalls that many chose to join the airline industry because they thought they could enjoy freedom there. “We can fly to other places, do whatever we want and say whatever we want,” Lee says. “We always speak a lot during the flights. Even if we have different points of view, we can share with each other.”

Colorful sticky notes appear on the Lennon Wall outside HKCTU’s office.

But after the first dismissal event, a “weird” atmosphere arose among the crew. Lee says they did not chat anymore in the cabin and he could feel the distance between colleagues. “We lost a lot. We lost freedom in Hong Kong. We lost freedom in our company.” 

The sudden mishap disrupts Lee’s plan for the future. “I became the collateral damage crushed by the large wheel of politics,” Lee wrote in a Facebook post on September 5, the day he left his once-beloved company. 

Edited by Gloria Li

Toddler Stress Woes

Children as young as toddlers are now dealing with stress from parental expectations and kindergarten hunting.

By Kayi Tsang

    Dr. Phyllis Chan Kwok-ling, head of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry of Queen Mary Hospital, looks grave when asked about child anxiety. 

    In May 2018, Hong Kong Playground Group interviewed 3,279 youth aged between 6 to 24 years old. Results showed that over 30 per cent had poor mental wellness, nearly 70 per cent suffered from insufficient sleep and around 40 per cent had insufficient exercise.

“Overall, I think Hong Kong children’s stress is increasing,” Chan says, “even to the point of juvenilization, meaning they start to suffer from stress at a younger age.”

    She says toddlers are stressed from interest classes and kindergarten interviews, citing the case of a boy who could not stop crying outside a kindergarten. His mother tried to smooth talk him to go inside for an interview, telling him that everything would be okay and it was just for fun. However, her actions, such as dressing him in formal attire, revealed her expectations, and the boy would not budge.

Why is mental health of Hong Kong children declining?

     Chan blames fierce competition for making children become more stressed. She says parents nowadays hope that their children can attain excellent achievements. They schedule many extra-curricular activities for their  children so that their curriculum vitae can be appealing and attractive. Competition among toddlers for the admission of elite kindergartens is vigorous. The playtime and rest time for children are curtailed with tight schedules and preparation for interviews. 

“I think the consequence of having a competitive environment is that children can learn of win and loss and sense the tense expectations, atmosphere, and divide,” Chan says.

     As the competitive atmosphere prevails at such an early age, children may be more sensitive to winning and losing and become more aware of their own performance. This also stems from the child’s ability to sense parental expectations. As a result, they often expect good performances from themselves to meet those expectations, which adds to their anxiety.

  Chan adds, “They won’t have enough courage and won’t be adventurous enough to try new things. This is a sign of anxiety in children, and it sometimes grows to the point of evasion.”

If children fail to accomplish certain tasks, their self-esteem will be undermined more severely. However, on the other extreme, children who expect more of themselves may also become perfectionists.

     To avoid exerting excessive stress on children, Chan thinks that  parents’ attitude are essential. “When children suffer from anxiety problems, 70-80 percent of their parents also suffer from anxiety problems too,” Chan says. Most of the therapies rely on the efforts of parents. They need to consider how to adjust their children’s schedule, and offer enough space for children. 

     She also suggests that parents should focus on building  emotional attachments with their children and devote more time to play with them. For instance, activities such as story-telling, physical activities or outdoor natural exploration should be indulged, rather than excessive enrollment in playgroups and interest classes.

How do we recognize children’s anxiety problems?

     Suki Lung Wing-kei, a registered arts (expressive arts) therapist of AThR, says that anxiety problem can be divided into behavioral and mental anxiety. On behavioral anxiety, children will show their nervousness when meeting strangers, and they will be reluctant to be separated from their parents. As for the mental issue, children may suffer from nausea, headaches and stomach pain. Lung also adds that it is easy for parents to know whether their children are suffering from anxiety or not as they are willing to expose their inner emotions.

     ‘The mental health problem in one’s growth development is very essential. If the anxiety problem of children is serious, it will affect their social interactions like being afraid of speaking to outsiders or becoming very passive in learning,’ Lung adds.  

     Expressive arts therapy is an innovative and creative therapy treatment that helps children express their feelings through visual arts, music, drama, dancing or creative writing. As the verbal expression of young kids is  still weak , Lung uses non-verbal therapy to help children with mental problems. 

    Lung recalls a child from a single parent family in her child development class. The boy pulled at the door frame with his arms and legs to avoid walking into the room. 

    “He needed some time, so we slowly built up a relationship with him, and let him perceive that the environment is safe. We also gave him a certain extent of self-autonomy to do what he wanted in class,” she says. After a period of settlement, the child ended up making friends, participating more and even telling his mother about what he did in class.

A way for children to relieve their stress

     Walter Assang, program director of The Little Gym of Hong Kong, says he established the baby gym because he wants to introduce Western style of learning activities to Hong Kong  children. The gym provides classes like gymnastics, dance and sports skills for children aged 4 months to 12. It aims to strengthen both mental and physical development of children through movement-based learning and imaginative role-playing.

Baby gym facilities at The Little Gym of Hong Kong.

     Assang adds that courses provided by the gym embrace a proprietary philosophy called Three-Dimensional Learning. The growth of children can be fostered in three holistic dimensions: physical, social and emotional development.

     “We want to nurture  pre-school kids with a positive personality and attitude so that they can be more prepared for school and have more effective learning,” he says. When young children can expose themselves to a larger social circle and increase their interactions with others, their confidence can be boosted and they will be less afraid of facing the crowd at school.

     Apart from improving social development by interactions and physical health after sweating and exercising, Assang also says that baby gyms are able to relieve the stress problem of children. He reckons the learning environment of Hong Kong is stressful as it emphasizes schooling in a more academic way than  Western countries, especially for those conventional schools. Children can only sit quietly in classrooms or else they will be scolded by teachers.

     In the baby gym, kids can explore and try new things without any confines. Autonomous thinking is developed as there is no restriction or instruction for children. Thereby, children can do whatever they want, having free playtime while their health conditions are alleviated.

Edited by Johanna Chan

When Life comes to an End

Patients in their last stage of life can choose the end-of-life treatment they receive by signing an advance directive, but medical workers, paramedics and their family members have little knowledge about the directive.

By Howard Li

Wan Sin-man is an 81-year-old volunteer of Sham Shui Po District Elderly Community Centre. She is diagnosed with Angina pectoris which means she suffers from chest pain due to coronary heart disease. She has been admitted to hospital many times and undergone five surgeries for the same illness so far. But Wan is not afraid of talking about death, as without the advanced medical facilities, she thinks she would have died already.

Wan learns about advance directive from news and supports the signing of it. Her doctors have never mentioned anything about it during follow-up consultations. Wan already has her last will prepared, though she still has not signed the advance directive. “It was tough for both patients and family members to see windpipes being inserted into a patient’s throat,” says Wan.

The current Advance Directive form provided by Hospital Authority.

Advance directive is a written document which a mentally-competent person aged 18 or above indicates what healthcare treatment he or she refuses to have, such as tube feeding and cardiopulmonary resuscitation, when he or she enters a persistent vegetative state, goes into an irreversible coma or suffers other end-of-life illnesses. It must be signed under the supervision of two witnesses, one of them must be a registered doctor and neither of them is a beneficiary of the patients’ inheritance.  

The government has launched a three-month public consultation over the legislation of advance directives in early September 2019. It is part of the advance care planning process in which patients express preferences over end-of-life care after discussing with family members and healthcare workers.

Medical not Equipped Well Enough

Advance directive was promoted when the Law Reform Commission of Hong Kong introduced the concept back in 2006. It can uphold the right to self-determination and enhance the quality of life of a patient. But the feasibility of legislation has raised concerns.

“The responsibility of medical professionals is to facilitate decision-making process of patients and their family members by making sure they are well informed of the decision,” says Joseph Lee Kok-long, the chairperson of Hong Kong Association of Nursing Staff. But not all healthcare providers know the basics of advance directive as it depends on their specialties. To become palliative care professionals, medical workers are required to have further training including understanding the end-of-life context and improving the patient’s quality of life during end-of-life care.

Though the government proposes that treatment providers will not incur liabilities for withdrawing treatment from patients in the presence of an advance directive, family members might be reluctant to let their loved ones go. These all come down to the cultural and ethical issues that cannot be regulated and measured.

“Medical professionals won’t mechanically follow what the directive states. They will keep checking on patients and take appropriate actions at the request of family members,” says Lee. He also stresses that communication with clients is important for medical personnel to resolve any misunderstandings about the advance directive.

In view of the overloaded medical system, each consultation only lasts for a few minutes. “Healthcare personnel is unable to map out details of advance directive even when patients and their families want to learn more about it,” says Yuen Siu-lam, the chairperson of the Self-Help Group for the Brain Damaged.

Legislation Lacks Legal Power

The government proposes that the original copy of advance directive, which may be revoked at any time by the patient, should be presented to paramedics as proof of its validity. Otherwise, they will continue to provide clinically indicated emergency life-sustaining treatment. The requirement causes inconvenience to elderlies who live alone.

“Once they fall into a coma or become unconscious, they are unable to show valid documents to paramedics,” says Yuen. He points out that revocation of the directive adds trouble to the elderly. He suggests replacing a valid advance directive with a QR code on a wristband or a necklace that stops the paramedics from doing Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation (CPR).

Paramedics from the Fire and Service Department (FSD) carry out CPR and other relevant treatment procedures to resuscitate patients in need of immediate medical attention before arriving at hospitals. Then, they convey patients to hospitals for appropriate treatment.

In the current protocol, doctors also sign the Do-Not-Attempt Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation (DNACPR) if the patient stated their preferences in their advance directives. But the paramedics may revoke the advance directive if they deem the patient falls outside the directive. In other words, the paramedics do not have to follow the guidelines of DNACPR. This leads to conflict between patients’ wishes expressed in advance directive and paramedics’ duty to aid the patient.

“The problem can be resolved by either removing ‘resuscitate’ from the ordinance or establishing a new law to reinterpret ‘resuscitate’ so that the ordinance won’t override the advance directive,” says Roger Chung Yat-nork, associate professor of the Jockey Club School of Public Health and Primary Care. The Mental Health Ordinance, the only law dealing with mental health matters in Hong Kong, defines mental incapacity as “mental disorder” or “mental handicap”.

Chung explains, “a person with mental illness doesn’t necessarily mean he or she cannot make decision on medical treatments. We should resolve the uncertainties with definitions to make the advance directive valid and applicable.” He takes the Mental Capacity Act from the UK as an example, “Under the Act, the advance directive has legal backing when the person signing it is losing his mental capacity. Otherwise, it is pointless to sign in advance.” 

Changes Starting from Education

Public awareness about end-of-life issues is also low in the socio-cultural context. Statistics from the Hospital Authority show a slight increase in the number of patients signing advance directives from 937 in 2016 to 1,557 in 2018. Another population-based cross-sectional telephone survey of 1,067 adults in 2017 by the Chinese University of Hong Kong indicates a total of 85.7% had not heard of advance directive. But after explanation, 60.9% said they would make their own advance directive if it is legislated.

Chung agrees that the public mindset about death can be changed through education. “Take Taiwan as an example, end-of-life education is covered starting from kindergarten, so they are more mentally prepared for discussing death,” says Chung.

The Taiwanese government includes life and death topics into the education system to break down cultural taboos against discussion about death. The concept of palliative care is also introduced through mainstream and social media to increase public awareness. In the 2015 Quality of Death Index conducted by The Economist, Taiwan ranked sixth among other 80 countries with a score of 83 over 100. While Hong Kong only ranked 22 with a score of 67.


A program about End-of-Life care and planning launched by the CUHK Jockey Club Institute of Ageing.

The power of education is echoed by Dr. Paul Shea Tat-ming, Co-Chairman of the Hong Kong Medical Association of End of Life Care, and a Specialist in Geriatric Medicine. He believes people with higher education comprehend life planning easier. “To promote a measure, you should start from citizen’s education instead of legislation,” says Shea.

Developing a culture of respect between members of the public is crucial in promoting advance directive. “Doctors will bring out the topic to patients when a bleak future is foreseeable… family members who have taken care of patients around the clock are more likely to respect patients’ decisions,” says Shea. And he thinks that the public, especially secondary school students should be more exposed to life and death topics, so that they have a clearer concept of advance directive and higher acceptance of it. “It should be done by the Education Bureau because Hospital Authority is only a medical department,” says Shea.

Edited by Civi Yap

Telling the Tales of Trashes

Upcycling designer Kevin Cheung Wai-chun tells stories of waste materials by turning them into new products.

By Soohyun Kim

Among the myriad of skyscrapers in Wan Chai, there is a four-story tenement block in blight blue colour, Blue House. Inside the iconic historic building, there is a small two-storey room filled with rustic rice cooker bowls and broken umbrellas, dimmed with a ceiling light made of discarded bicycle rims.    

Dubbed “the rubbish guy”, resident of the unit, Kevin Cheung Wai-chun enjoys doing treasure hunt in filthy garbage and wastes. Although he no longer does dumpster diving now, the 32-year-old upcycling product designer collects rubbish as raw materials for his creations. 

Cheung and his 18-year-old parrot.

Turning the rotten into miracles

Since 2011, Cheung has been working with various kinds of wastes to create new products — a practice of upcycling. Upcycling is a process of transforming unwanted materials into new products of better quality. The practice is different from recycling because it does not involve the breaking down of materials. “When we talk about upcycling, we try to preserve the material as it is. We try to turn it into something else without changing it a lot,” says Cheung. 

Cheung used to be a product designer at a battery company designing flashlights, power banks, battery chargers and other similar products after graduating from the School of Design at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.  

 Yet Cheung saw limited room for creativity while working for that company. “Something was missing throughout the process of designing for a company,” he says. “You just get the parts and draw a beautiful box around it, and we call it [a] new product.” He also acknowledges the short lifespan of products he used for designs, as most break down within two years. 

Cheung started studying the practice of upcycling to pursue creativity with an environmental consciousness. The first product he created was a Boombottle, a speaker made from a plastic bottle. He made the first two Boombottles and joined a friend who sold handmade books in a flea market in September 2010. Since then he has been creating other upcycling products, such as Rice Bell, bicycle bells made of discarded rice cookers and Lumi-rim, a ceiling light created with thrown-away bicycle rims. His customers can find these products online and at four offline retail outlets.

Boombottle, a speaker made from a plastic bottle, which was also Cheung’s first upcycling product.
Cheung’s Lumi-rim, a ceiling light created with thrown-away bicycle rims.

Lacking a way out

Hong Kong has long been struggling with waste problems. Regarding statistics from the Environmental Protection Department (EPD) in 2017, around 15,516 tonnes of municipal solid waste were produced per day. The three landfills, in Tseung Kwan O, Tuen Mun and Ta Ku Ling respectively, are expected to be full by 2020.

Cheung points out the difficulty of recycling waste materials in Hong Kong due to the absence of a manufacturing industry. “We don’t manufacture anything so we cannot use waste material ourselves, we have to send it off to somewhere else,” he says. “We don’t really have much to say.”  Recent changes in the Chinese government policy on imported waste have also aggravated the problem. “[Under the policy,] Hong Kong cannot export raw waste material without filtering, while Hong Kong lacks a facility for waste filtering or recycling,” he says. 

Despite the poor recycling standard in Hong Kong, Cheung has seen improvement in the recycling industry as the government has started to find better waste treatment methods. He cites the local waste paper recycling and manufacturing plant that will be open next year in Tuen Mun as an example.  “That’s a new baby step we are taking,” says Cheung. 

Challenging the misfortune

Cheung observes that Chinese people associate rubbish with misfortune, “[The waste]’s for the dead people, it brings bad luck. I think that has to be changed,” Cheung says.

To create less waste, he emphasises the idea of “thinking twice before buying”. He also conducts educational workshops in hopes of raising social awareness. Cheung explains the idea of the workshop is to help Hong Kong people adopt habits of using their own hands to create or fix belongings, instead of buying new things they need. “[The habit of making something with your own hands] is really important because when you stop using your hands, whenever you need [something], you just use money to buy it,” he says. “That also is a problem that ends up creating a lot of waste. People stop fixing it (things).” Cheung provides life-warranty to customers for his products. “No matter [how long], even four years, or five years….If it breaks, you bring it back to me and I will fix it for you.”

Cheung provides life-warranty to customers for his products.

Whenever [how long], even four years, or five years…If it breaks, you bring it back to me and I will fix it for you.


Expanding the spectrum

As a consideration for budget as well as the nature of the waste material, Cheung plays around with waste from corporates. Whenever he finds waste materials that are interesting in a landfill, he contacts relevant companies and asks for the materials before they are dumped in landfill.

It was not easy at the beginning. “[At first,] they were quite reluctant to give you the waste because they were not sure what you were doing,” Cheung says.

The table has been turned upside down now. As Cheung has built a notable portfolio, local and multinational companies have started reaching out to him for collaborations. With his range of products and philosophy, he has attracted corporates like Citibank and non-governmental organisations (NGO) such as Greenpeace for commissioned projects. “Everything I’m trying to do, it’s not just doing things that I like, but trying to inspire big corporations because they are the ones making the impact,” Cheung says. 

Cheung collaborated with Citibank for a commissioned project to build a boxfile sculpture with waste material back in 2013. (Courtesy photo of Cheung)

He notes most companies pursue a glamorous style when organising events but it is not difficult to move away from that culture. “When one company does it, with a positive impact, it’s very easy to inspire other companies to follow.”

Aside from collaborating with the commercial companies, Cheung has worked with St. James’s Settlement, a non-profitable organisation located in Wan Chai. The NGO runs sheltered workshops for people with disabilities, and the workers have been helping Cheung with assembly work on his products. 

Cheung’s creativity is not limited to companies and social enterprises, his work also relates to social movements. During the 2014 Umbrella Movement, Cheung collected broken umbrellas that were left on the streets after clashes and created thumbnail pianos with ribs of umbrellas. 

Cheung sees a close linkage between social movements and environmental protection. He cites new initiatives following the Umbrella Movement, such as  “Waste-no-mall”（不是垃圾站）in Yuen Long and the “No More Junk Bay”（正澳） in Tseung Kwan O. 

He says: “[The movement] has gathered a lot of people who are willing to change the society. So that actually became a big momentum to continue to change in the society when they go back to the communities and recycling is one point (one of the changes).”

Cheung re-creates his thumbnail piano using newly collected umbrellas used by protesters in the anti-extradition law amendment bill movement. The thumbnail piano plays notes to “Do you hear the people sing?” and “Glory to Hong Kong”, the two anthems frequently sung by movement supporters, which give a special meaning to the piano.

In light of the recent anti-ELAB movement, Cheung re-creates his thumbnail pianos with umbrella ribs, which play notes to protest anthems “Do you hear the people sing?” and “Glory to Hong Kong”.

“No matter how it (the movement) ends, this time it should lead to good changes,” Cheung says.

No matter how it (the movement) ends, this time it should lead to good change.

A storyteller and a dreamer

The upcycling designer prefers to be named as storyteller. “When you work with a lot of waste materials, a lot of stories behind… it kind of grabs onto you.”  He compares his work with the Blue House — one of the historical landmarks in Hong Kong, which is also where he resides. “It’s an old architect[ure]. The city thinks it is useless and old but once you renovate it, it becomes a modern, stylish living space. It’s a similar metaphor,” he notes.

“I think they (customers) are not just buying the products.” He believes every material carries its own story, which becomes the foundation for his design.  

“Interesting thing about waste is that it’s always related to the city. Something happens in the city, that kind of waste is produced,” Cheung says.  He notes these stories are what entertain and surprise people. “The surprise on the[ir] face[s] keeps me going.”

Interesting thing about waste is that it’s always related to the city. Something happens in the city, that kind of waste is produced.

Cheung says he has achieved his ultimate goal as he enjoys doing what he is doing. But he still hopes to see “what end up in bins can end up on shop shelves and start all over again” in the near future.   

Edited by Jasmine Ling

A Cinema in Every Neighbourhood

Watching movies is no longer confined to cinemas. Public screenings have now penetrated the city and drawn community members together.

By Wayne Chang

A screening of the World Cup Qualification match between China and Hong Kong in 2015 in a public space near her home when everyone was cheering for the Hong Kong team opened the door to public screening for Angela Chu Pui-yee. She is enchanted by the casual atmosphere that people around her wearing slippers and sitting on the floor.

 “I have fallen in love with public screenings since then. It connects the neighbour and bring us together,” Chu says. She is now a frequent participant of different screening sessions in the community as this new form of theatre gets more popular and diverse.

From then to now

In October 2019, Chu joined a public screening in Sham Shui Po of a Korean movie “A Taxi Driver (逆權司機)”, which is about the social movement in Gwangju in 1980s. The screening was held by HK Community Cinema, an independent organization that aims to promote non-mainstream and socially impactful movies by holding public screenings almost every week. Guests of different expertise including scholars, movie directors, journalists are often invited to hold a sharing and discussion session after each screening.

Chu particularly enjoys the sharing and discussion sessions and she thinks they make public screenings different from conventional screening in cinemas where everyone must leave as soon as movies end. 

“I can gain a spark of inspiration every time I listen to them (the guests). It really expands my knowledge and horizon,” adds Chu. Apart from interactions with guests and other audience, Chu also likes the casual nature of non-commercial public screenings, “like we don’t have to watch advertisements before a movie that people are forced to do in cinemas,” she says. 

A social driving force

Cheung King-fai, one of the main organisers of HK Community Cinema, hopes that public screenings can serve as a platform for different people to ‘sit down and talk’, as society is becoming more divided. He also wants to expose the general public to a wider range of media content because movie choices in cinemas are often restricted nowadays, and movies featuring sensitive issues are often excluded. 

Apart from “A Taxi Driver”, the HK Community Cinema held eight screening sessions of non-mainstream movies that features social movements in September and October in 2019, including “1987: When the Day Comes (1987: 逆權公民)”, “Winter on Fire (凜冬烈火)”, “The Edge of Night (街頭)”, “Hand in Hand (牽阮的手)”, and “Wind That Shakes the Barley (風吹麥動)”. 

Watching “A Taxi Driver” when Hong Kong is embroiled in the Anti-Extradition Bill Amendment Bill (Anti-ELAB) protests, Zowie Lee Cheuk-yuet, another audience of the screening regards her presence as a form of community participation. “Apart from simply coming out for a movie, I have a sense that I am responding to the call of society,” she says. 

She thinks that what makes community screenings special is organisers have more flexibility that allows them to make timely choices. They can screen movies relating to a particular on-going social movement or political situation at the moment and announce screening time on Facebook. 

Align to what she expected before going to the “A Taxi Driver” screening, Lee met people who have participated in the Anti-ELAB movement at the screening. She believes people are connected as they all can relate themselves to the movie.

“I see a community composed of people with a shared identity, in front of me,” says Lee. “Community screenings bring protesters in the streets into our daily lives. It is another form of ‘action elevation’ that sets aside the rather confronting and intense atmosphere, “she adds. 

 “Blossom Everywhere”

The culture of public screening has rooted in Hong Kong. “Blossom Everywhere Screenings (遍地開放映會)”, a joint-district screening activity initiated from a Telegram group, calls on volunteers to organise a screening session of a designated movie in districts they live, has become the rage during the Anti-ELAB movement. 

Poster of “Blossom Everywhere” screenings of movie “1987: When the Day Comes” listing all the sessions in Hong Kong

William Shek and Leticia Wong Man-huen, newly elected District Councillors, co-organised one of the “1987: When the Day Comes” screening sessions in City One Shatin after they joined the “Blossom Everywhere Screenings” Telegram group. Before screening the movie, they also live streamed “Citizens Press Conference (民間記者會)”, a news briefing organised by members of the Anti-ELAB protest. They think that the Korean movie can serve as an important reference for Hong Kong as history often repeats itself.

The screenings of “Winter on Fire”, a documentary on Ukraine’s fight for freedom was held on 29 August and “1987: When the Day Comes”, a Korean film about the country’s fight for human rights and democracy was held on 24 September. Both of them drew huge crowds  with more than 30 venues holding public screenings across the city at the same time.

While Shek and Wong could not book an indoor venue for the screening, they managed to show the film in a corner of a public area next to City One MTR station where everyone can stop by and join, with a portable screen and projector borrowed from their friends. 

Despite the rather simple settings, the screening attracted audience of all ages and most of them were nearby residents who joined the event after school or after work. Some residents even brought their own foldable chairs and came with their families. 

Shek and Wong say they hope the whole community, disregarding their political stance, can join their public screening and participants can share their opinions openly. 

“It’s different from watching a movie in a dark room of a cinema where you can barely see what’s happening around you… Here (in community screenings) you can directly feel the emotions of the person next to you,” says Wong. “It (holding community screenings) is a worthy thing to do no matter there is only one audience or a lot,” adds Shek.

Wong and Shek setting up equipment for the screening.

Edited by Raven Hui

Emerging from the Broken

Varsity talks to one of the few Kintsugi practitioners in Hong Kong, Enders Wong, to know more about the spirit behind such artistry.

By Lambert Siu

  • Tools and materials needed for Kintsugi art: item to be fixed, water, a glass plate, a small brush, a spatula, a small spoon, wheat flour and Urushi lacquer.

Emerged in Azuchi-Momoyama (安土桃山時代) period, Kintsugi (金繼) is a traditional Japanese repairing art that mends wreckage of ceramics with glue made from Urushi lacquer combined with water and wheat flour. The connecting joint is then coloured in gold or silver. After several centuries of development, this Japanese artistry spread to other parts of the world including Hong Kong under the promotion by Kintsugi practitioners like Enders Wong.

 Wong learnt Kintsugi in Japan ten years ago and he currently organizes Kintsugi tutorial workshops in Hong Kong. Wong’s first exposure to Kintsugi was when he attempted to fix his self-made broken bowl. He then decided to visit Japan on his own as a Kintsugi apprentice, as not all materials required for the repair were available in his kits.

“Many reports available online describe Kintsugi as a mere repairing method, but it is actually an art,” he says. Wong recalls that one of his students once repaired a seemingly insignificant plate of Gudetama, a popular Japanese anime character, but it in fact carries precious memories of his parents. He thinks Kintsugi is more than just a repairing technique, since it bears unique meaning that is special to every individual who practices the skill.   

Kintsugi is often interpreted as a way to restore broken objects to their original forms by reconnecting broken fragments. Yet, Wong thinks there is something more to this craftsmanship that encourages creativity. He recalls his experience of designing a whole set of tea ware specifically to fit the shape of a piece of broken glass, instead of gluing the fragment back to its main part. He cites a student of his as an example. The student used crystal to fill gaps between a broken wine cellar instead of simply colouring the crack with gold or silver, challenging the traditional boundary of Kintsugi.

Wong also draws differences between the philosophy behind Chinese and Japanese repairing. While Chinese repair things aiming at recovering functionality, Kintsugi advocates the aesthetic of wabi-sabi (侘寂) , which highlights the appreciation of imperfection and recreation from the broken. Embracing the flaws in order to survive, especially during natural disasters, has become one of the key elements manifested in this art form.

“After the March 11 tsunami tragedy in 2011, people collected broken fragments by the sea and returned them to their owners after mending them as they think it is a way to bring hope to victims by reminding them there is always a way to heal their wounds,” he explains.

Wong thinks Hong Kong should develop her own Kintsugi with a special character. “Hong Kong is Hong Kong. You have to be aware of your unique characteristics and be yourself,” he says. He also realises that some Hong Kong Kintsugi artists copy the Japanese style directly without infusing the work with their own elements. He reckons the way out is to spend more time tracing back to where they grow up from and dig out the essence of what belong to them.

“I want to create Kintsugi of Hong Kong,” he says. He believes Kintsugi in Hong Kong can bring a sense of peace to individuals as they can stay focused when mending broken objects for a few hours without any distraction.

“Amid troubled times like this, it [Kintsugi] should evoke calmness from within and lead us to have faith in the chance of rebirth,” he adds.

It may seem unrealistic to talk about Kintsugi in Hong Kong right now, as protests continue. But Wong sees it in a different way. To him, Kintsugi is a line that joins the past and future together. Through Kintsugi, a broken past is repaired and metamorphoses into a new form of future.

Edited by Scarlet Shiu

More Than a Hostel

The hostel is not just for travellers, but also locals in the neighbourhood.  

By Lambert Siu

Hong Kong is a wondrous city with all sorts of fascination taking you by surprise. One is hidden in a corner of Sham Shui Po, a secret garden where hostel and music live house come together in a tenement building as a creative residence named Wontonmeen.

“Wontonmeen” means “wonton noodle” in Cantonese, which is an iconic food of Hong Kong. Patricia Choi Pui-yee, founder of this creative residence chose this name as she thinks it is a vivid representation of the local trait of this district and an embodiment of her love for the city.

Wandering inside Wontonmeen brings you back to the old Hong Kong. The interior design is filled with a sense of nostalgia. Collectables and antiques found from flea markets stacking up on the shelf, vintage movie theatre seats from the 1960s in the common area and an eye-catching neon sign remind us of Hong Kong’s dazzling nightlife in the past.

Vintage movie theatre seats from the 1960s in the common area
Collectables and antiques found from flea markets
Kent Leung For-wah, Choi’s husband and co-manager of Wontonmeen

The appealing retro aesthetic has shaped the tiny common area into an intimate venue perfect for chic music. Kent Leung For-wah, Choi’s husband and co-manager, first thought of turning the common area into a mini live house accommodating approximately 40 audience members when he observed that the common area was often left idle. As a professional musician and fond jazz music lover, Leung intuitively came up with the plan to fully utilize the space by inviting his friends to play jazz music at first and extend the line-up further to local indie artists.

Jazz music is often perceived a bit high-end or out of reach to resident living in the neighbourhood, the poorest district in Hong Kong. Yet, Leung has been offering gigs for free, hoping to promote jazz and indie music regardless of their economic background.

Artists performing free gigs in the common area of Wontonmeen

“The agenda behind free entry is to encourage more people to give themselves a try even though they may not have heard of jazz music before. After they learn about what we are trying to achieve here and appreciate [our effort], they will then support us,” he says.

Above the music area, the first and second floors belong to the hostel area, offering both private and shared accommodation for tourists. The design of hostel rooms is inspired by caged homes or cubicle apartments commonly found in densely-populated districts, where rental rooms are divided into numerous small units, owing to the skyrocketing property price and high land rent in Hong Kong.

Hostel is not just for travelers, but also locals in the neighbourhood!
The “Hong Kong” neon light sign placed on 1/F patio with a hammock underneath for tenants to rest on

Such idea can be traced back to a final year project conducted by one of Choi’s students in her environmental design class, who wants to improve the living condition of the caged home.

Wong Ka-po, a part-time staff member from Wontonmeen

Wong Ka-po, a part-time staff member from Wontonmeen, points out the design theme of the hostel is borrowed from caged homes and subdivided units, but instead of using the theme as a gimmick to lure tourists, storage space and level of privacy of the hostel were refined.

“First, the bed is made larger and wider. Second, the cages are wrapped with iron net, and that makes the design very practical as you can hang all your personal items with hooks. When you leave, you can simply pull the curtain down to create your own private space,” she explains.

A poster of In the Mood for Love, a classic romance by local director Wong Kar-wai, is hung on the wall inside the washroom in the hostel area

What distinguishes Wontonmeen from other hostels is the homey feeling it gives to every visitor and the authentic local experience that travellers yearn for.

“Although we call ourselves a hostel, the hosts are always here,” Wong says. Running on a “family-styled” basis, the hosts and guests maintain a very close bonding, going beyond a mere landlord-and-tenant relationship. Besides customising their own tourist maps to provide local recommendations of places to visit in English, they would explore local food in Dai Pai Dong, a unique form of open-air food stall in Hong Kong or even visit the anti-extradition bill protests scenes with the tenants.

Another neon sign and collectibles displayed on the wall in the common area
Books and maps available on loan for travelers

Apart from serving as a cultural exchange hub for tourists, Wontonmeen also cooperates with other non-governmental organisations in Sham Shui Po to launch community activities, such as guided tours, screenings of local films and cooking workshops. It does not simply function as a hostel that attracts foreigners but it also acts as a focal point that gathers and connects nearby residents in the neighbourhood together.

Edited by Scarlet Shiu

Next Term of the District Councils: Distribution of Seats by Political Affiliation

The pro-democracy camp won majority seats in at least 17 out of 18 districts in Sunday’s District Council Election, in which voter turnout rates were the highest recorded in Hong Kong. Here is a closer look at the distribution of seats so far.

Please note that votes of the Lam Tin constituency are still being counted, and thus have not been included yet in this graphic.

2019 District Council Election: Controversial Constituencies Results

This year’s election has seen an unprecedented voter turnover rate. Some of the constituencies have been strongholds of the pro-establishment camp for many years. Sunday’s district council elections have inflicted a landslide defeat on the bloc.

Results of Incumbent Super District Councillors in 2019 District Council Election

While district councillors’ work focuses on district affairs, they can also be elected as lawmakers in the Legislative Council through “super district council” seats. This is how incumbent super district councillors fared this election.

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Varsity CUHK
Varsity is an award-winning magazine created for the tertiary students and faculty of Hong Kong. It is written, edited and designed by students in the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong.
Contact us: varsity@cuhk.edu.hk