Presenter Patrick Dunn’s easy-going approach to a fruitful life
by Vivian Lai
Patrick Dunn in the uniform of Royal Hong Kong Regiment (The Volunteers)
For many years, he was best known to TV audiences as an affable host of variety shows and occasional actor. But in recent years, Patrick Dunn has won fame and cult status among the younger generation due to an uncanny resemblance to the Buzz Lightyear character in Disney’s Toy Story. The 54-year-old Dunn treats this quirky development much in the same way he has responded to most things in life — with good humour, and not too seriously.
In person, Dunn is as cordial as his screen persona. Sporting an army overcoat, tartan trousers and a sweater bearing the insignia of the Royal Hong Kong Regiment, he says he does not think he really looks like Buzz Lightyear. But there are similarities; Buzz is an intergalactic space ranger and Dunn was once a real soldier in the Royal Hong Kong Regiment (The Volunteers), who patrolled the Hong Kong borders to apprehend illegal immigrants.
Military life may seem at odds with Dunn’s easy-going, laid-back personality but he is clearly passionate about it, eagerly showing off the photos and medals depicting his service in the regiment. As he looks over pictures of his younger self in camouflage fatigues and carrying more than 36 kg of military equipment, he cannot hide a smile at the memories of the harsh, but rewarding, military life.
Dunn joined the regiment in 1989 and served until it was disbanded in 1997 when Hong Kong was handed over to China. He recalls that in the physically demanding annual combat tests — which simulated real battle conditions — he and his teammates had to run 5 km on the ground and then up hill in full gear. “Some exercises were so exhausting that, at one point, I thought of quitting. But once you’ve finished it, you forget the tiredness and look forward to the next training,” he says.
Military training encourages discipline and the mindset of operating as a cohesive unit through physical training. The tough drills forced Dunn to make personal breakthroughs and perform seemingly impossible tasks. Gradually, he developed a sense of self-confidence. “When you can accomplish the high demands of the regiment, everything seems to be easier. It is like constantly challenging yourself,” he laughs.
Dunn operated a machine gun in the combat test
The conditions of military training were certainly at odds with Dunn’s comfortable upbringing in a wealthy Hong Kong family but it was the realisation of a boyhood dream. Living in Kowloon Tong when he was young, Dunn always saw soldiers and army trucks stationed at the campground next to his house.
As the youngest of three brothers, Dunn was granted a lot of freedom growing up. The family owns two logistics companies in Hong Kong with six branches in the United States and three in Canada. But he did not face much pressure in terms of career expectations, and his parents never stopped him from idolizing soldiers or developing his own interests.
Dunn spent most of his secondary school days hanging out with friends and going to parties. In the Hong Kong Certificate of Education Examination, he failed four subjects out of nine. This prompted his brother to send young Patrick to further his education in the U.S. where he would have fewer distractions.
Katherine Lam Suet-ying quits banking to search for meaning
By Yan Li
Katherine Lam Suet-ying
To any observer, Katherine Lam Suet-ying was the epitome of a successful modern woman. She had it all – a high-flying career in banking, a loving husband, an adorable baby boy. But instead of enjoying life at the top, the 34-year-old decided to quit her HK$1-million-a-year job as a vice-president of China Construction Bank (Asia) to pursue a new path as a budding social enterprise entrepreneur.
Lam’s story reads like a Hong Kong fairytale. She was born to a grassroots family and lived in a rooftop hut in Sham Shui Po as a child. Despite the lack of material comforts, Lam had a happy childhood as her garment-worker parents were loving and nurturing.
Riding the mass migration wave of the late 1980s and the 1990s, the family applied to emigrate to the United States. After 10 years on the waiting list, they finally packed their bags to join relatives in Florida in 1997, the year Hong Kong was handed over to China and Katherine turned 17. With just US$3,000 to their name, the Lams started work in a Chinese restaurant the day after their arrival and lived in a relative’s home.
Life in Florida was simple and comfortable. At that time, people could make a pretty good living waiting tables. They could raise their families and afford accommodation and cars. But it also made them less motivated to study or improve.
“I really hated that place because I thought everyone was living a lazy and dull life and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life working at a restaurant,” Lam recalls. She says she was fed up with living in Florida and its status quo. This discontent spurred her to look further afield to find “success”.
After graduating with a master’s degree in decision and information science from the University of Florida, Lam immediately moved to California, a state far away from Florida, where she got her first banking job at Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation (HSBC) and met her future husband.
Lam is grateful she had a chance to live and study in the US as she encountered many opportunities there. “I love Hong Kong but America gave me the American dream; made me believe that people can succeed if they work hard enough, even when they come from a very humble background … I had never imagined that one day I could actually make it into the middle class,” she says.
Sherry Chan Yuen-yung chronicles everyday life in the world’s hotspots
by Stella Tsang
Sherry Chan Yuen-yung sits at a table in a café with a cup of cofee, a book and an open laptop. She is writing her latest travel note. The book is The Great War for Civilisation by the British journalist Robert Fisk, who specialises in covering the Middle East and Chan’s writing is not about the food she has eaten, the sights she has seen, or the backpackers she has met on her latest foreign holiday adventure.
The 28-year-old is a freelance reporter, commentator and writer with an interest in international affairs, particularly the politics of the Middle East. It seems to be a niche interest for a young Hong Konger and not one that would be easily guessed from looking at her background.
Her articles are published in the Ming Pao newspaper and the online news site House News as well as her own blog, Catcher in the Rye. Travelling is more than a hobby for Chan, it is a compulsion. She needs to travel, not just as a job, but also for herself. “I feel like I’m being bitten by ants when I stay in Hong Kong for more than half a year,” she jokes.
Sherry Chan in Dogubayazit, Turkey, with Kurdish children
Chan’s first taste of solo travel was a month-long trip she made to Xinjiang at the age of 17, inspired by a cover story in Time magazine. It was an impulsive journey that she undertook, buying her plane ticket a mere three days before departure.
In the more than 10 years since then, Chan has made numerous trips to many different destinations, many of them in the Middle East. But it was not always apparent that she would make a career out of travel.
Chan had wanted to be a journalist ever since she was in Form Four of secondary school. But her father was set against this choice, warning her about the hardships journalists faced. Due to family pressure, she eventually opted to study government and public administration at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, a subject she was also interested in. From there, she went on to study law at the University of London.
Chan did not follow her dreams after graduation. Most of her friends advised her to work for investment banks or accounting firms. Given her good academic results, she was persuaded these would be appropriate career choices. For five years, Chan worked in finance, for investment banks, fund houses and law firms.
The work was stable and well-paid but she never enjoyed it. “You find that you understand those investment tools. You have understanding but not feelings towards them,” says Chan.
Chan would work for a year in order to save money for travelling. She would then quit the job to experience life abroad and then find another similar job when she got back. This had been her lifestyle until the summer of 2012, when she returned from a half-year trip through the Balkans to Slovenia. This time, she abruptly resigned from her job in a fund house after just three days.
Just as the evening peak hour arrives, a line of red taxis edges slowly forward on a narrow street near the hustle and bustle of Gloucester Road in Wan Chai. They are waiting to fill-up at a gas station on Marsh Road, a spot marks the end and the beginning of the taxi drivers’ day.
Lo is one of the cabbies stuck in the line. For him, it has been a day like any other, the same routine, the same stiffness in the body after hours of driving and waiting in the queue.
“It’s already better at this time of day,” Lo says as he jumps out of his car with a cloth in his hand. He cleans the car the while he waits in the queue. “There are a lot more taxis queuing up at around 3 or 4 o’clock.”
The Marsh Road gas station is one of 12 Dedicated Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG) Refill Sites in Hong Kong that serve the 18,000 taxis and 2,000 minibuses across the territory. Although LPG is also available at 51 other commercial petrol stations, prices there are usually HK$6-$7 higher per refill than at the Dedicated LPG Refill Sites. Therefore, drivers of most of the LPG vehicles would rather spend 30-40 minutes queuing for cheaper fuel.
Lo recalls that before switching from diesel to LPG, taxis seldom needed to queue for fuel. They could just fill their tanks at any nearby petrol station. But with just one LPG filling station in the urban district of Hong Kong Island, taxi and minibus drivers have to sacrifice their income to refuel. “This is definitely a failure of the Government,” Lo complains.
For taxi drivers who rent their taxis, there are usually two shifts in a day, the morning shift starts at around 5 a.m. and ends 12 hours later, while the night shift is the opposite way around. Before handing over the taxi for the next shift, the driver has to fill up the tank. This is why there is always a long queue before the night shift starts
According to government statistics, there are currently around 50,000 taxi drivers in active service. Some of them are driving their own cars but most rent from a taxi owner by paying a daily rent of around HK$400 for one shift. Apart from the fuel price and car rental, the income is directly pocketed by the drivers. In other words, the harder a driver works, the more he or she can earn.
However, in reality, there are obstacles to this. Chan Man-kin, 35, became a cabbie in 2001. He says the profit margin of driving a taxi is narrowing because of rising fuel prices in the past 10 years. Since he started, the price of LPG has shot up from HK$1.65 to HK$6.21 per litre. Given the rising overheads, he can now earn around $500 a day.
“Sometimes the total of the rental fee and the fuel already exceeds half of my earnings,” Chan says.
On top of increasing operating costs, income has also been hit by increased traffic congestion on Hong Kong’s roads. In 2011, the Transport Department calculated a taxi driver could serve 26 customers in a working session; this year, a taxi driver can only serve 21 customers.
Apart from the decreasing profit margin, taxi drivers face the constant risk of road accidents. If there is a minor accident, a taxi driver might have to pay compensation and money to repair damage to his car, but if there are casualties, the driver may face legal liability and even imprisonment.
In many of the accidents, long working hours are a factor. Chan says it is common for taxi drivers who own their cabs to drive continuously for 24 to 36 hours. Some of the drivers who want to save money on accommodation even sleep in their cab and work soon after they wake up. Chan admits that after he has been driving for more than 12 hours, his alertness and awareness drop. “I feel like sleeping all the time,” he says.
The irregular work schedule also affects drivers’ relations with friends and family. Chan says it is difficult to maintain a relationship when he lives in a different time zone from his partner. Chan is single now and says he is not able to date anyone much like many of his peers who work the night shift.
Lam Ho-luk, a 23-year-old university graduate who worked as a taxi driver for several months
On top of the practical and emotional difficulties, taxi drivers have to put up with the perception among many members of the public that taxi driving is an inferior job.
Lam Ho Luk, a 23-year-old university graduate once spent seven months as a part-time cab driver and another two months driving full time before he quit. He says most of his passengers were surprised to find such a young man behind the wheel. When they found out he was also a university student, nearly all of them asked him why he was driving a taxi.
“I could feel from their tone and expression that they thought this job was only for older people, and those who are forced to become taxi drivers because they have nothing else to choose,” Lam says.
However, in Lam’s opinion, there is nothing demeaning or lowly about the job. Lam thinks it is not a disgrace to be a taxi driver but, after finding a better job as a design engineer, he left the field.
Despite the difficulties, there are still people who like the job and are positive about it.
Lui Cheung-hong, 30, who started to drive a taxi in 2009, enjoys the freedom it brings. “It is really free to be a taxi driver. Even if you want to go travelling, you do not have to be afraid you don’t have any holiday days,” he says, “I just have to tell the owner [of the taxi], which days I can’t work and then nothing will be my business.”
Lui Cheung-hong, a 30-year-old taxi driver
Conversely for Lui, being a taxi driver has given him more private time to spend with his family. Although he has to wake up at 5:45 every morning, he can have a better work-life balance.
Lui’s love for taxis actually goes back to his childhood. He has wanted to drive taxis since he was in kindergarten. This is because his father, who was also a taxi driver, drove him back home from school every day. “I loved taking my dad’s taxi ride and I also love driving,” he says with a smile.
But not just any kind of driving job will do, only taxi driving gives him satisfaction. “If I were a bus driver, I would be bored because I would just drive the same route every day,” he says.
Yet, cabbies do need to worry about their health. In order to earn more, a taxi driver usually eats in the cab, or sometimes skips a meal or two, or avoids going to the washroom too often. Being seated with hands on the steering wheel in the same position for too long can lead to occupational disorders such as back pain and adhesive capsulitis, commonly known as frozen shoulder. The condition results in restricted shoulder movements and constant pain. The pain gets worse in colder weather, making simple movements of the shoulder impossible.
The lack of exercise can also lead to weight problems. “I’ve been a taxi driver for four years but I’ve gained nearly 20 pounds,” Lui says. When he worked as a clerk, he could at least walk around. Now, he barely leaves his seat except when he goes to the toilet or takes a meal break.
But Lui says he will not give up on taxi driving. Although it is a tough job, he can at least earn a living to support his family and he has job satisfaction. During each journey, he can chat with passengers from different cultural backgrounds. He finds that mainlanders seldom discuss politics—but they are keen on comparing Hong Kong and the Mainland—while Taiwanese and Singaporeans like to criticise their governments and share their viewpoints.
And then there is the satisfaction of helping people. A couple of years ago, when other taxi drivers refused to help, Lui transported a woman in Tsuen Wan who was in labour to hospital.
He remains upbeat about the the future for taxi drivers. With the increase in mainland tourists under the Individual Visit Scheme, demand for taxis has risen. In the past, few people took taxis at around 10 a.m. to 11 a.m. but now there are many passengers even during off-peak hours. “It lengthens the time I can get income,” says Lui.
Still, he says that if he had children, he would not recommend they become taxi drivers because there are no prospects for promotion. A clerk can always hope to become a manager but the only way to step up in the taxi world is to become an owner.
This is just a fantasy for Lui. The Hong Kong government has not issued any new taxi licences since 1994 and investors, wary of fluctuating stock prices and government measures to cool the property market, have jumped into the secondary taxi licence market.
Speculation has driven up prices. “A taxi licence costs HK$7 million,” says Lui. “Four years ago, when a taxi license cost around HK$3-4 million, I had thought of being a taxi owner but now it’s impossible.”
If you want to go skiing or snowboarding, you might think you need to make a trip to Korea, Canada or other places with snow. If you want to play baseball or softball, you might think you need to join a club with a playing field.
But what if someone told you that none of these is necessary? All you need to do is take make your way to the premier indoor sports centre in Kwun Tong and have all the fun and exercise you want.
PLAY is a two-floor indoor sports centre equipped for skiing, snowboarding, baseball and softball. Founded in 2011, the centre’s motto is ‘Love Life, Love Sports’ and its aim is to foster sports culture in Hong Kong, particularly among young people.
The ski and snowboard area is located on the first floor. There, players can ski and snowboard any time of the year. “We would like to offer a year-round environment to the guests so that they can do the sports 24/7 all year without the restrictions of weather, seasons and transportation,” Hailey Chan Chi-lam, the marketing and events manager of PLAY says.
There are three adjustable ski slopes and you can change the slopes’ inclination and revolving speed to match your ability. The maximum slope incline can be adjusted up to 15 degrees and the revolving speed to over 20km/hr. Up to four players are allowed to ski or snowboard on the slope at the same time, so you can ski with your friends and family. The centre charges $1,200 for a group of 4 for trial.
Don’t worry if you have never tried snow sports before. The centre provides lessons with professional instructors. A stationary slope is available for beginners to practise on. There are also more advanced courses for those with more experience.
Chan says most people come to PLAY to learn skiing and snowboard skills before they go on a ski trip. This helps to ensure that they can practise the sport safely and that they make the most of their snowy vacation.
On the second floor of the PLAY sports centre, you will find the baseball and softball lanes. This fully automated indoor batting area is the first in Hong Kong. Each lane is equipped with a baseball or softball machine imported from Japan that delivers the balls at different speeds.
In one of the lanes you can see a virtual pitcher on a screen as the balls are delivered. For $100 you get five tokens; with each token you get one round. For each round, you get 14 to 18 balls, depending on the lane you choose. As with the ski and snowboard section, lessons and equipment are available.
Besides the baseball lanes and the ski slopes, there is a café with snacks and Swiss gourmet coffee. You can also check out the latest snow sports equipment and accessories at the Ski ‘n Board shop.
Apart from the sports facilities, PLAY provides venues for private parties where you can have live music and your own DJ. It is not only a good place for snow sports and baseball, it may also a good choice place for your birthday party too!
So what are you waiting for? Join PLAY and experience the fun today. For details on membership and prices, go to www.321play.com.hk.
Amateur photographers sell work through crowdsourcing app
by Jeffrey Loa
“Click!” The shutter of Carlos Ngui’s smartphone goes off as he takes a picture of himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He has just woken up and is brushing his teeth. But this selfie is not for the 19-year-old City University of Hong Kong student’s friends on Facebook or to be uploaded to Instagram, it’s destined instead for Scoopshot, a photo crowdsourcing mobile app founded in Helsinki, Finland.
With Scoopshot, publishing photographs is no longer the privilege of professional photographers and journalists using expensive digital single-lens reflex cameras. In fact, anyone with a sharp eye and a smartphone can get published and even be paid for it.
Scoopshot currently has a user base of more than 110,000 mobile photographers from 170 countries. Once registered, you can upload photos and videos you think the media or companies would want to publish.
You can earn money by licensing your pictures or by selling them. In 2012, Arto Mäkelä from Finland earned more than $19,000 by responding to a task set by Fonecta, a Finnish directory services company. The task was to take pictures of shops and businesses. Mäkelä took thousands and earned enough for a trip to Miami and the Caribbean.
Simpler tasks may include capturing moments from your daily life. Who knows? A few photos of your messy dorm room with dirty clothes and books lying around may earn you a couple of hundred dollars.
Besides taking pictures yourself, you can set a photo assignment for others. Ngui’s toothbrushing selfie was for taken for as assignment called “Show Us Your Morning Face” created by Scoopshot. Anyone can create a task. If your favourite band was performing in New York and you could not afford to go, you can create a task to ask people to take pictures of the show for you.
You can also contribute to advocacy work of global non-government organisations.
In 2013, Scoopshot collaborated with the charity Oxfam and the British rock band Coldplay to produce a music video composed of photos and video clips taken by Scoopshooters to highlight the plight of families forced from their homes because of big land deals.
When it comes to breaking news and significant social events, Scoopshot may be the place to turn to. For instance, if you are in the middle of a protest in the streets of Mongkok, your photos may be exactly what media companies want. Perhaps a picture of a protestor throwing IKEA wolf toy Lufsig at the Chief Executive could become an iconic image. News organisations in Hong Kong, like Apple Daily and Metro Daily, crowdsource photos from this mobile app.
Photoscooper Ngui says: “It’s a clever way to provide us with an incentive to take photos… I can’t wait to snap some breaking news.”
Scoopshot is more than about taking selfies and accomplishing tasks. It illustrates the changes in how the media sources images. Photojournalism has become a collaborative work of media producers and media consumers.
Scoopshot is available for iPhones, most Android devices and Windows Phone smartphones. As the saying goes, “a picture is worth a thousand words”, so join the Scoopshot journey now!
Civil society is often referred to as the ‘third sector’, distinctive from government and business, and encompasses charities and non-government organisations. This edition of Varsity explores some of the issues relating to charity, NGOs and civil society in Hong Kong:
We are often told it is more blessed to give than to receive. And Hong Kong people certainly live up to the saying. Hong Kongers are generous donors and enthusiastic volunteers. Last year, the city ranked in the top 20 countries and regions in the World Giving Index, with around 63 per cent of the population donating to charities. It is also undeniable that charities play a vital role in our society, contributing to a vibrant civil society and advancing Hong Kong’s social and democratic development.
But behind this glowing picture are grey areas –– questions left unanswered, challenges left unrecognised and problems left unsolved. In this issue of Varsity, Periscope examines the seemingly clear-cut topic of charity by looking at different aspects of Hong Kong’s third sector.
We start by looking at how charities are regulated in Hong Kong. Under the existing charity regulatory system, the legitimacy of many charitable organisations is ambiguous and this makes it easier for fraud, scams or abuse to take place. The introduction of tighter rules can help prevent fraud, provide confidence for donors and create legal mechanisms to ensure funds are not used for personal gain. But the flip side of increased control, is the spectre of bureaucratic and even political interference and administrative requirements that would create great challenges for the operation and survival of small scale charitable organisations. To what extent would regulation affect the independence and autonomy of the sector?
Despite the absence of charity laws and regulations, Hong Kong’s charitable organisations, also called non-governmental organisations (NGOs), are relatively developed, especially compared to the Mainland. The concept of NGOs is still fairly new in China and Chinese NGOs face numerous challenges, ranging from problems with registration and funding, to a lack of manpower and skills. As a part of China and sharing aspects of language and culture, Hong Kong is in a unique position to offer assistance and act as a reference for the development of Chinese NGOs. In our second story, Varsity explores Hong Kong’s current and future role in the development of Chinese NGOs and civil society.
Charity is also a growing concern of the private sector as the concept of corporate social responsibility (CSR) becomes more prominent. CSR programmes are well received by those who regard CSR as a meaningful attempt by businesses to contribute to society’s wellbeing rather than just fulfilling economic and legal obligations. Critics, however, say the idea of CSR is just a business model, a risk management device and a public relations tactic for advertisement and image building. How do businesses make sense of the idea of CSR, when the altruistic rationale of charity fundamentally contradicts their profit-seeking goals?
Through looking at charities, non-profit organisations and the charitable activities of businesses, we hope to explore some of the hidden problems and challenges faced by the so-called “third sector”. Charities and NGOs are a vital part of our civil society –– a well-developed third sector can provide a balance to government and business and help Hong Kong develop as a vibrant and diverse society.
Now I proudly present the March issue –– produced through the concerted efforts and unremitting hard work of Varsity’s advisors, editors and reporters. I sincerely hope you find this issue an enjoyable and inspiring read.
The video footage shows people in wheelchairs collecting money for a charity in a busy shopping area. These same people are then shown standing up and walking away. The video is part of a report published online by the Apple Daily in 2011 which stirred public concern about improper and possibly fraudulent fundraising activities by charities and organisations claiming to be charities.
Concerns about fundraising and the lack of transparency of some charities are not new. Back in 2003, the Office of the Ombudsman published an investigation report on the monitoring of charitable fundraising in Hong Kong. The report concluded that:“Government monitoring of charities is partial and patchy, fragmented and ineffective.” It recommended the government consider setting up a charity registration system.
In 2007, the issue was passed to the Law Reform Commission of Hong Kong which issued a consultation paper in 2011. Among the proposals in the paper were how to define a charity and controversially, the setting up of a charity commission to oversee and monitor the registration of charities.
After six years of deliberations, the commission finally released its recommendations in December last year, making some concessions to concerns from civil society on the establishment of a charity commission and on how to define a charity. Up to March 2013, there were close to 7,600 tax-exempt charities in Hong Kong. Under current regulations, a non-profit organisation can register first as either a company or a society. In order to obtain charitable tax-exempt status, they need to then apply to the Inland Revenue Department.
In the Law Reform Commission’s 2011 consultation paper, charities were classified mainly into those working for the relief of poverty, advancement of education and advancement of religion, with a fourth classification of those working for other charitable purposes beneficial to society but not falling under the other headings.
The list of accepted charitable purposes extended beyond those categories to cover work for the environment, health, the disabled, disaster relief, the environment and animals.
Organisations set up with the aim of advocating for human rights, or changes to existing laws and policies were not included. After many complaints, the commission added human rights to the list in its 2013 recommendations.
But advocates are still dissatisfied that groups campaigning for laws and policies are still excluded from the proposed definition. Legislator Fernando Cheung Chiu-hung, who is also a social work lecturer at Hong Kong Polytechnic, says that advocating for laws and policies is integral to the work of charities and social workers. It is even included in the Code of Practice for social workers.
For Cheung, excluding this work from the definition of charitable purposes raises concerns about censorship and the suppression of charities. He cites the example of Forthright Caucus, a non-government organisation (NGO) he founded to strive for the rights of the underprivileged, such as the disabled, mental health patients and children with learning difficulties. The group has made three attempts to gain charity status from the Inland Revenue Department and was rejected every time.
Correspondence from the Inland Revenue pointed out the group had participated in the July 1 protests to call for more services for the disabled. This was defined as a political activity and the Inland Revenue suggested the group should be more service-oriented and focus less on policy change and advocacy. It asked for amendments to the group’s charter which Cheung refused to make.
Without official charity status, it is hard for Forthright Caucus to access funding and other resources. “The rules are grabbing charities by the neck and squeezing them,” says Cheung.
Another NGO, the Hong Kong Women Workers’ Association (HKWWA) shares a similar experience. The association was founded in 1989 and is a tax-exempt charity. In 2006-2007, the Inland Revenue Department required it to fill in a form to review its charity status. In the form, the association was asked to fill in descriptions of its work and to hand in work and audit reports.
Douglas Shum Hong-yuen, Light of Raphael’s Clinic
After these were submitted, the Inland Revenue Department quizzed the group about its work, much of which is to fight for women’s employment rights and welfare, including organising and taking part in protests. The department said this work did not fit its charity status and that the group may have violated the regulations of its charity status by organising campaigns.
Apart from the definition of charities and charitable purposes, many groups also voiced opposition to the proposal to set up a charity commission to monitor charities. Fernando Cheung says that in Hong Kong’s current political climate and with its existing political structure, there is a danger that the commission could become a channel to control charities. He says such a body would be able to freeze the assets of a charity, place people on the board of the charity and even deprive it of its charitable status.
Although the commission concluded a charity commission should not be set up at the present time, due to a lack of consensus, it still states it should be a long-term goal to establish a charity commission or centralised regulatory authority for charities.
