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Varsity@20

Varsity is 20. We are marking the anniversary with a discussion on “20 Years of English Language Media in Hong Kong” on Thurday April 11 at 11:00 am. Registration is open to all. Join us and our distinguished panel to look back on the development of English media and explore future directions.

We also look forward to seeing registered students, alumni, students and guests at the celebration dinner on Friday April 12 from 7.00 pm.

Details are as follows:

Talk

Topic: 20 Years of English Language Media in Hong Kong
Date: 11 April 2013 (Thu)
Time: 11am – 12:45pm (doors open for refreshments at 10:30am)
Venue: Room 312, Humanities Building, New Asia College, The Chinese University of Hong Kong
Speakers: Mr. Stephen Vines, Mr. Frank Proctor, Mr. Mark Tjhung, Mr. Wang Feng, Ms. Joyce Lau
Moderator: Ms. Yuen Chan

-Stephen Vines is a commentator, broadcaster, author and businessman. He was the founding Chief Editor of the Eastern Express newspaper and satirical news magazine Spike.
-Frank Proctor was Newsweek’s general manager for Asia and international circulation director, and publisher of Muse magazine.
– Mark Tjhung is the Editor-in-Chief of the Time Out Hong Kong.
– Wang Feng is the Digital Editor of the South China Morning Post.
– Joyce Lau is the Education Editor at the International Herald Tribune.

Please register online via http://www.com.cuhk.edu.hk/2013varsitytalk/. We look forward to receiving your confirmation of participation by 5 April 2013.Should you have any questions, please feel free to contact Ms. Emily Owen (email: emilyowen@cuhk.edu.hk, Tel: 3943 7739) or Ms. Winkie Lui (email:winkielui@cuhk.edu.hk, Tel:  3943 5353)

Live reporting@Apr11:http://varsity.com.cuhk.edu.hk/?p=5022

Celebration Dinner 
Date: 12 April 2013 (Fri)
Time: 7:00pm – 10pm
Venue: Function Rooms, 3/F South Tower, YMCA of Hong Kong, 41 Salisbury Road, Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon
Menu: Buffet Fee: HK$230 per head (The School will subsidize the remainder.)

Registration for this event is closed 

Should you have any questions, please feel free to contact Ms. Emily Owen (email: emilyowen@cuhk.edu.hk, Tel: 3943 7739) or Ms. Winkie Lui (email:winkielui@cuhk.edu.hk, Tel: 3943 5353)

A Brewing Cultural War

I have lived in Hong Kong since I was born.

Throughout this time, I always thought my hometown was really a diverse and intriguing place. It is home to different peoples, a city where you can hear different voices and find different cultures; and together we weave the rich tapestry that is Hong Kong.

But holes began to appear in the fabric recently, as our society is getting more and more divided, or even polarised, over an array of issues. A war between different values, in which citizens are digging their heels in on either side of the battle line, is now simmering.

This is why we have decided to feature Hong Kong’s brewing culture war in this month’s Periscope section of Varsity. Contemporary use of the term originates from the United States and refers to the clash of ideas, usually between conservatives and liberals, over various social issues such as abortion, gun politics, gay rights and sex education. Has the culture war arrived in Hong Kong, and if so what are the issues of contention?

We start by looking at the struggle between local consciousness and nationalism in Hong Kong. As our ties with the Mainland have become closer, our feelings have also become more complex and ambivalent. This has caused some locals to reflect on their cultural identity, but this has apparently upset people who uphold their national identity tenaciously. Will these tensions escalate into more than just a war of words?

We also look at the conflicting views among evangelical and liberal Christians over a number of social issues. The most visible flashpoint is over the issue of homosexuality. The evangelicals’ high-profile stance against equal rights for homosexuals has even invited criticism from non-believers. How do Christians make sense of the widening division within their faith, and the world outside it?

We take our exploration further by looking at how some in Hong Kong are reimagining the way people should speak out about their needs and aspirations. In the past, people looked to lawmakers, especially those who were directly elected, to speak for the people in the Legislative Council. But as more people are disappointed with the pace of democratic reform and progress in their livelihoods, some are choosing alternative forms of resistance, opposition and advocacy. Some are protesting on the streets, others go further, engaging in civil disobedience. Why do some people stay to fight within the system while others have given up on it?

It is hoped that through looking into these issues, we can get a better grasp of Hong Kong’s present situation, and some clues about what is going to happen next.

But before I finish, I must state that this issue’s Varsity is a joint effort made by many first-time editors and reporters. With little clue about our job at the beginning, we worked hard with our advisers and spared no effort in striving for the best.

I proudly present this wonderful compilation of stories, and sincerely hope that you enjoy reading it – just as we enjoyed making it.

Editor-in-chief

City of Divided Loyalties

The struggle between local consciousness and national identity gathers pace

By Natalie Tsoi and Jeffrey Wong

A man walks into Mong Kok East railway station pulling a trolley loaded with heavy cardboard boxes. When he tries to pass through the turnstile, a group of angry people immediately surround him, waving blue flags and swearing. The man is trapped. He cannot move until he has proven that his boxes contain fluorescent lights, not milk powder or other grey goods destined for sale across the border.

This incident is merely a tip of the iceberg. Tensions have been simmering between Hong Kong people and those from the Mainland for years and came to a head at the beginning of 2012. The flashpoint was when a security guard from the luxury fashion retailer, Dolce & Gabbana, forbade locals from taking photos outside their flagship store at Tsim Sha Tsui and said that only Mainlanders could do so.

Shortly after that, a video showing a dispute between Hong Kongers and mainland tourists over the tourists eating food on an MTR train went viral. Then, in a television discussion about the video, a Peking University professor called Hong Kong people dogs.

Tensions were stoked further when a group of Hong Kong netizens fought back against the insult. They raised money from donations to place an advertisement in the newspapers, calling mainland Chinese “locusts” swarming the city.

The advertisement fed into the discontent many people in the city felt that  mainlanders were coming to Hong Kong to give birth to children who could then claim right of abode here, competing with existing local families for hospital resources and primary school places. The rampant parallel trading activities that have affected the daily lives of Hong Kong people have further driven a wedge between Hong Kong and the Mainland.

The protests, such as those outside Mong Kok East and Sheung Shui stations may seem to be about a battle for resources or a reaction to changes in Hong Kong people’s way of life. Outsider observers might even see them as an expression of discrimination against the “other”. But as the more than 100,000 people who turned up to protest against the government’s proposed national education curriculum for schools showed, the battle for resources masks an ideological struggle. There is a brewing war between local consciousness and nationalism.

In the most recent findings from the “Identity and National Identification of Hong Kong People” survey conducted by the Chinese University of Hong Kong, 23 per cent of the respondents chose “Hongkongese” as their answer to the question “How do you identify yourself?”. This was the highest percentage since 2006. At the other end, 12 per cent picked “Chinese”, the lowest figure since the biannual survey was started 17 years ago.

Professor Eric Ma Kit-wai, who has conducted the survey from the beginning, says the results show how citizens have changed their minds. Ma says the initial projected outcome was that local identity would gradually diminish while national identity would rise. For the most part, the results seemed to confirm this but he began to witness a change in the trend in 2010.

Ma says the frequent disputes over resources between Hong Kong and the Mainland are some of the reasons for the change. Hong Kongpeople feel their own way of living is being eroded bit by bit. Also, Hong Kong media are producing more detailed news reports that reveal the negative side of China, like the mysterious “suicide” and death of activist Li Wangyang and the constant food scares. Ma says these have led to a worsening general impression of the country. At the same time, it has made Hong Kongpeople treasure their local identity more, in order to differentiate and distance themselves from what they see as the undesirable behaviour and culture of mainlanders.

Christians at the Crossroads

Rise of religious right and splits between evangelical and liberal Christians on gay rights and politics 

by Frances Sit and Silvia Li

Heads were sometimes bowed in quiet prayer, sometimes lifted towards the sky in song. Thousands of Christians gathered in a picture of harmony on a lawn overlooking Victoria Harbour on January 13 this year. But this was no ordinary prayer concert or mass worship.

They were taking part in a rally at Tamar Park next to the government headquarters to oppose consultation on legislation to outlaw discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation. Titled the Inclusive Love Praying Concert, the event was organised by various evangelical churches, such as the mega-churches affiliated with the Evangelical Free Church of China: Yan Fook Church, Tung Fook Church and Kong Fok Church.

The participants made a declaration that they would not discriminate against homosexuals, would not verbally abuse them, would not deny them their dignity and would not force them to change their sexual orientation. A prominent pastor from the Yan Fook Church then knelt down to pray for “struggling” homosexuals.

Despite the stated theme of inclusion, the event clearly highlighted the divisions among Hong Kong’s Christians on the issue of homosexuality.  B. Tsang watched as a group of several dozen Christians held a counter-rally at the site. “I could not feel any inclusion and care,” Tsang said. “Despite the words of love they were saying, I only felt overwhelming pressure and fear, even as a non-homosexual.

“The concert is a carefully plotted and manipulative event. They attempt to use religious belief to override human rights,” he added.

On the other side of the divide, a participant who only wanted to be identified as Michelle said: “It is stated in the Bible, in God’s words, that monogamy should be practised…To disagree with homosexuality does not equal discrimination against them.”

Differences over homosexuality are the most visible division between different sections of Hong Kong’s Christian community, but there are also clashes over issues such as censorship and media depiction of sex, attitudes to drug users and participation in social activism and social movements. The socially conservative evangelical churches and the relatively more open liberal churches seem to be increasingly at loggerheads, or even at war – a culture war.

The idea of a culture war was popularised in the United States and is used to depict the struggle between two sets of conflicting cultural values. Sociologist James Davison Hunter identified a number of issues such as homosexuality, abortion and gun control, where society was generally divided along opposing lines.

Most Protestant churches in Hong Kong can be characterised as traditional or mainline churches. But a growing number of Christians are attending evangelical churches, and a smaller number worship in liberal or progressive churches.

A Radical Road to Reform

Hong Kong’s democrats split on how to achieve democracy and justice

By Pash Chan and Cindy Ng

“They’re starting the arrest!”

Those were the words Tam Tak-chi, a radio host and activist better known as “Fast Beat”, heard as he tried to make his way towards his fellow protesters on Queen’s Road in Central. Before he reached them, several arms lifted him straight to a squad car. Enraged protesters blocked and shook the vehicle, demanding that the police release Tam. While the police officers beside Tam looked on nervously, Tam was calm, even though he knew he may well be imprisoned for “unauthorised assembly”.

Just two blocks away on Ice House Street, a lone protester stood in the centre of the road. Legislator Leung Kwok-hung, or Long Hair, was surrounded by hundreds of policemen. As he yelled, “Leung Chun-ying!” people standing outside the police cordon shouted back, “Step down!”. After an hours-long stand-off, Leung was arrested at midnight, ending the New Year demonstrations, of striving and failing to bring about democracy, some protesters’ patience has been exhausted. Occupying public spaces, paralyzing traffic and other physical confrontations have become more frequent.

For them, working for political reform in the Legislative Council (LegCo) is just a naïve dream. Only half of the seats are elected by one-person-one-vote through geographical constituencies, while the other half are elected through “small circle” functional constituencies. The system consistently gives the pro-establishment camp an upper hand, even though it does not win as many votes as the pan-democrats. The advantage is compounded by the split-voting mechanism which means that private members’ bills and motions must be passed by a majority of lawmakers from both sets of constituencies.

Frustration over the limits of what can be achieved within the system has sparked debate over whether the quest for democracy needs to be fought outside of the system instead. The question has split the pan-democratic camp and its supporters and extends to the debate in the media and among ordinary citizens.

“[The traditional pan-democrats] despise the system because they know it is defective. On the other hand, they insist on fighting for democracy through it. This is illogical,” Leung Kwok-hung says. “Either they are fooling the people, or they are fooling themselves.”

Leung believes the only way to abolish the unfair system is for protests to intensify. Ever since entering the legislature in 2004, Leung has been famous, or infamous, for deliberately breaking rules, from throwing bananas and letting off helium balloons inside the LegCo chamber to carrying paper coffins to functions he was invited to attend as a legislative councillor. He was also an organiser of the filibuster to derail government policy.

For the legislator who won the most votes in his geographical constituency in the 2012 LegCo election, it may seem ironic that Leung views LegCo as just a platform to create noise. But he believes every time he steals the spotlight in meetings through his disruptive behaviour, he makes a slight difference.

“Similarly, any single protest cannot correct our society, but you would still take part. Every protest is to accumulate the power for changes,” Leung says.

His commitment to his cause has landed seven days for disrupting a LegCo session with then Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa. Before he was charged with unlawful assembly in the New Year protest, he was already appealing a two-month jail term for disrupting public order during protests at a 2011 consultation over government plans to scrap by-elections for vacant LegCo seats.

Death, Life and Everything in Between

Learning about death helps youngsters get the most out of life

By Yoyo Chan and Tommy Lee

“I am happy to have cancer,” says William Chan Wai-lam.

Chan, a 30-year-old with a pudding bowl haircut and preference for the name William Outcast, sits and smiles broadly.  Half of his body is covered in countless black dots and passers-by cannot help but stare at him.

Chan is used to the stares. He was born with the dots. Each dot is a melanoma, a tumour of skin cancer.  “They hurt like having stones in your shoes,” says Chan.  There have been acute episodes – Chan was once admitted to hospital after vomiting blood.  He was told to say his goodbyes to his family and was transferred to the intensive care unit.  He knows that at any moment, the cancer could spread and kill him. He has lived with death all his life.

In July last year, Chan organised his own funeral and invited 200 friends and relatives to mourn his “death” and celebrate his life. Chan conceived it as a class in life and death education and, indeed, it is probably the highest profile life and death education event ever to be held in Hong Kong.

Life and death education refers to teaching about the concept of death itself. In traditional Chinese society, death is taboo and represents misfortune. People will try to avoid saying words that sound similar to “death” during the Chinese New Year or even skip the fourth floor of buildings. When a member of the family dies, the rest of the family is expected to avoid visiting others’ homes or attending weddings.  The purpose of life and death education is to break these taboos and to help people to rethink the value of life through understanding death.

After his funeral last summer, Chan dedicated himself to various forms of life and death education. He held an art exhibition and conducted workshops and talks at schools. “Death is good,” says Chan. “Through death we find the value [of life].”

For Chan, it is not a pity to die as long as you pursue your dream in life.  Chan himself is a living example of this belief. But he is not alone in recognising the importance of life education.

Wallace Chan Chi-ho, assistant professor in the Department of Social Work at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK), offers a course on grief and life education. Although most people may see such education as something that focuses on the elderly and those facing imminent death, Wallace Chan believes it is also meaningful for teenagers.

A Call For Speech Professionals

Shortage of speech therapists thwarts children’s development

By Joyce Cheng and Katrina Lee

In a colourful classroom filled with toys and picture cards, a woman speaks slowly and clearly to a group of three children sitting around her, ensuring they articulate correctly and rectifying their pronunciation.

For most people, speaking is such a natural activity, they take it for granted and may not realise there are people around them, including children, suffering from communication disorder.

In recent years, families have become more aware of speech and communication problems, especially when parents find their children having difficulties in attaining certain language abilities expected for their age.

For instance, a three-year-old child should be able to say, “I want to eat apples.” But a child with language delay might keep repeating “apples, apples, apples,” or reverse the sentence structure. They might have trouble expressing themselves in simple sentences.

Communication disorders can affect a child’s learning, development and personality. Children who struggle to speak properly could eventually become less sociable and have lower self-confidence.

Language delay and communication disorders take many forms and have many different causes, some of them are genetic or developmental and some are acquired. They refer to impairments in the ability to receive, send and process sounds, words and visual language systems such as writing.

Children with conditions like autism or dyslexia, and children who lack an appropriate language-learning environment are among those who experience communication disorders.

“Speech disorder isn’t only about talking. For example pronunciation, voice problems, swallowing problems and even stuttering are all included in language problems,” says Jessi Chan, a private speech therapist at McKenzie & Associates Rehabilitation Services.

Speech therapists provide professional assessment and therapy to patients with communication disorders and play an important role in assisting and rectifying the language issues they are experiencing.

All therapeutic sessions are specifically designed for individuals to target their needs. Therapists use a variety of techniques such as training cards with phonetic articulations and pictures, facial massages and jaw, lip and tongue exercises to strengthen the muscles of the mouth. For children, games and toys are also used to facilitate their speaking and enhance their attention in a session that lasts between 30 minutes and one hour.

Playing with Shadows

Traditional Chinese shadow puppets get a new lease of life

 By Charlene Kwan

In a 300-square-foot studio in an industrial building, a man wearing reading glasses is carefully and skillfully cutting a piece of cowhide into the shape of a puppet.

Wong Fai, director of Hong Kong Puppet and Shadow Art Center, is a shadow play maestro in his 60s. He has been fascinated by puppets since he was a boy and began to learn puppetry seriously, with marionettes, when he was 17.

His love of puppetry led the Hong Konger to travel to Hunan in the late 1970s to study shadow play from Tan Degui, an eminent shadow play maestro at the Hunan Puppet and Shadow Art Troupe of China.

Wong returned to Hong Kong as a full-time puppeteer performing at nightclubs and other places of entertainment. In the 1990s, the market for puppet shows shrank and the demand for performances declined. Wong worked as a building surveyor for the next decade or so, treating his art as a part-time job.

Even so, Wong has never lost his enthusiasm for shadow play. In 2000, he decided to devote himself fully to shadow puppetry once again and invited other masters from the mainland to help.

“I think if we let it fade away and no longer have these performances, this culture in Hong Kong, I think it would be a pity,” he says with an unconscious frown.

What inspires and drives Wong to persist is his admiration for the skill of the masters he was apprenticed to who were passionate about performing throughout their lives. “[They were] performing until the last day of their lives and were extremely enthusiastic about this job,” says Wong, adding that their dedication was a lesson that was worth learning.

Wong thinks the best thing about apprenticeships is that apprentices not only learn performing skills from their masters, but also life values. Despite this, he himself does not have any apprentices. “Shadow play requires a lot of time and patience in practising even basic skills,” explains Wong. “Hong Kong people only enjoy things that yield immediate rewards.”

To make shadow play more attractive to the next generation, Wong acknowledges the need to bring it up to date. In 2003, he used a combination of puppets, including marionettes, hand puppets and shadow puppets in a show, striving to make a fresh impression on his audience.

But he says it is difficult for people of his generation to hit upon new ideas. “Our concepts are very traditional, and we do not have broad enough vision,” laughs Wong. “We will have to rely on the younger generation to modernise this art.”

Opportunity came knocking through a Chinese folk art programme run by the Hong Kong Baptist University a few years ago. Wong met Lee Yuk-shan, a student who was willing to help him in his quest.

In the Mood for Cheongsam

Meet Hong Kong’s cheongsam collectors

by Elaine Tsang

Opening an ordinary black suitcase, a young man smiles and takes out the dresses from his exquisite collection. From the pile of embroidered cheongsams, Helius Yuen Kin-wai picks out his favourite piece.

“It has the longest history within my collection,” Yuen explains of his choice, a sheer blue lace cheongsam. “Also, its design really represents the era which it comes from, the 1920s and 1930s.”

Yuen started collecting cheongsams when he was 20 and now, at only 28, he has more than 700. He was just 11, however, when he fell in love with them thanks to an old photo which showed how the dresses can turn any woman into a star.

Yuen was not a motivated student. He attended a vocational school where he fell in with a bad crowd and spent much of his days roaming the streets.

“I only studied until Form Two,” Yuen says. “[You could say] it was playfulness or naughtiness; I stopped going to school when I was about Form Three.”

At the time, Yuen had no education, no job, and no meaningful goal in life. It was only after he took up a part-time job as a sales assistant that he realised he had to find some life goals for himself. It was this search that led to his cheongsam collection.

Yuen’s current devotion to the cheongsam can be attributed to his friend and mentor Joel Chung Yin-chai, a famous toy collector.

“When I first met him, he was my boss. I was a salesperson selling clothes then,” Yuen explains. “A boss who sells clothes should be very well-dressed and tidy. But every time I saw him, he was carrying rubbish.”

Yuen was curious about Chung’s litter-picking habit and discovered Chung was picking through rubbish to find anything that was related to Hong Kong culture; old photos, stationery and in particular, toys. He told Yuen that things that others threw away could be prove useful to him. Bearing that in mind, Yuen decided to follow Chung on his search.

“When you pick something up you need to clean it, to put it somewhere safe. You must do research and understand the historical meaning behind the object,” Yuen explains. That was when he began to think about his ambition to collect cheongsams, and to learn something about Hong Kong.

This would later influence Yuen’s own beliefs as a collector of cheongsams.