Should I Stay Or Should I Go - 1997?
Let's pause the linear track of my tale to consider one of the most significant decisions I made in my life. Should I stay, or should I go? The long lead up to 1997 was a difficult time for many. Finally, Deng Xiaoping made the Chinese position clear on 24th September 1982. When meeting Thatcher in Beijing, he asserted Chinese sovereignty would resume in 1997.
When Thatcher recoiled at this, Deng stated: "China will use force if necessary." The Iron Lady was powerless in the face of Deng's proposal. He held all the cards. Negotiations then began on the form of the transfer. My immediate conclusion is that the expatriate police officer, as the most visible symbol of British rule, looks time-expired.
I had little or no understanding of these issues when I joined up in 1980. But, soon, we all would be on a crash course learning the details of the various treaties that sealed Hong Kong's fate. It's a process that led me into the politics of Westminster and understanding the vast sweep of Chinese history.
On 19th December 1984, as the outline agreement signing takes place in Beijing, I'm on standby. Hundreds of officers at the Police Tactical Unit and elsewhere sit kitted up in riot gear. We are ready for trouble. No one could be sure how the public would react. Deng called the signing "a product of dialectic Marxism and historical materialism." Nothing happened. Perhaps the baffled Hong Kong public scrambled to look up 'dialectic Marxism.'
But much of the detail of the handover and post-handover arrangements remained unknown. The Joint Declaration set out some broad principles - a framework only. It looked reassuring that the pro-democrats sat on the Basic Law drafting committee. Also, Beijing is making a concerted effort to reassure people that the future is bright. The Brits trundle out wily old China-hand Percy Craddock. He asserts that the declaration "is the most comprehensive protection as could be devised and agreed."
In the period before 1989, an assuaged Hong Kong accepted this line. After all, China was changing for the better and, in any case, there's money to be made.
What's not forgotten is that Hong Kong is a refugee society - made up of people who fled communist rule. Such people tend to avoid politics, except when and if it impacts business. Whether it's the super-rich or the labourer, the majority is indifferent as long as nothing interferes with their ability to make a living - that's the prevailing sentiment until June 1989.
Yet, they'd do well to remember the quote from Pericles (494 BC to 429 BC) ... "Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn't mean politics won't take an interest in you." Unfortunately, politics was about to sweep up everyone in Hong Kong, and you couldn't opt out.
Never underestimate the impact of events in Beijing during the summer of 1989, as the build-up of protests, the rumours, and the grim final chapter played out on our TVs.
On 20th May 1989, as Beijing imposed martial law, thousands of Hong Kong people gathered in Victoria Park. Then the next day, an estimated one million marched in protest. It's unprecedented.
When the crackdown came to Beijing, Hong Kong people's attitudes transformed instantly. You can debate what happened in and around central Beijing that night. Yet, you can't escape the fact that many people died - citizens, students, and soldiers.
Overnight the population of Hong Kong becomes political. In the process, the old flames of suspicion of the communists rekindle. Dark memories of the cultural revolution resurfaced. People remember why their families had fled. So, naturally, an outpouring of anger is the immediate response. But then, people decided to consider their options.
Some Hong Kong people lay plans to leave. An exodus of talent starts, as the best and brightest find new homes in the West. Others decide to get involved by seeking to shape the future of Hong Kong.
The reaction of the Hong Kong people to the killings in Beijing had a Newtonian symmetry. China reacts with suspicion and foreboding that 'Western forces' will exploit the situation. Distrust grows as Hong Kong collect funds to aid the students, including to help their escape. Relentless protests and calls for action deepen the now entrenched positions.
All this knocks the ongoing handover negotiations off-course. The talks rumbled on clouded by political posturing, with arguments and name-calling. China holds that the events in Beijing were 'counter-revolutionary,' thus warranted suppression.
The Hong Kong people took a different tack and saw the students as patriots, protesting against corruption.
In response, China now perceives Britain has changed course to use Hong Kong as leverage. As a result, the issue of Hong Kong's future now has international attention. This change, in turn, affected sentiment in Beijing. They felt that the West would manipulate events in Hong Kong to counter China's rise. It's all part of the great game.
Martin LEE and Szeto WAH resigned from Basic Law Drafting Committee in protest. At the same time, China expelled them anyway. Martin LEE went to go to claim he'd face prison after 1997. Needless to say, it didn't happen.
Yet, none of this boded well for me. As an Expat cop, a Brit, part of the colonial regime, my future in Hong Kong looks bleak.
By the late 1980s, I took an active role in the Expatriate Inspectors Association. How that all started, I'm unsure. Probably me mouthing off about an issue and then told to either shut up or do something. Either way, I ended up as the chairman by the mid-1990s.
The Association represents the interests of inspectors, including Chief Inspectors, on expatriate terms. The membership is British, Australian, New Zealander, Canadian, and Indian. In addition, Chinese officers on overseas contracts can join.
Hong Kong police officers are not allowed to form or join trade unions. The Staff Associations fulfil the role. Besides, the EIA is the Local Inspectors, Superintendents and Junior Police Officers Associations.
In the lead up to 1997, I was drawn into negotiations on many related matters. Included in this are passports for the spouses of Expat officers, although the question 'Her Majesties Overseas Civil Service' proved most time-consuming and contentious.
Thanks to the help from British parliamentarians, we soon resolved the passports issue. Frank Field, the MP for Birkenhead, proved stalwart in his support.
When we first raised the passport issue, the British Government ignored us. It's their position that our spouses can enter the UK, then live there for seven years to get nationality.
As I spoke with a collection of chinless wonders from the Foreign Office, attempts to get the British to see sense went nowhere. These men, dispatched from time to time to Hong Kong to take the temperature, didn't take kindly to my words. Instead, with condescending indifference, they listened, left and then did nothing. In one notable exchange, a colleague confronted a visiting Minister with:
"You want to hand us over with the furniture, like the White Russians at the end of World War II."
The analogy was not accurate, but the sentiment was clear.
When MPs started asking questions in Parliament, the Foreign Office sat up. So in no time, British nationality for our wives is an option. First, however, the usual bureaucratic hurdles needed jumping.
My actions drew criticism from within the Force. A few senior officers didn't approve of us young lads being vocal - don't rock the boat! Those making the most noise would soon head off to retirement, making their displeasure hardly credible.
In retreating from the last major colony, the British wanted to manage perceptions; they needed to appear to act with honour. And that is a fine line to walk between meeting their obligations against what could get done. In my opinion, in many regards, they failed.
For starters, they departed without providing a through-train for the legislative council. This significant omission almost brought governance to a halt.
Yet, the most odious matter is the shabby treatment of ordinary Hong Kong citizens. Earlier in the 1980s, the UK removed citizenship rights for millions of Hong Kongers. Then, they denied Hong Kong folks access to the UK in a calculated move.
At the same time, British diplomats pressured Portugal not to grant citizenship to Macau residents. The Brits feared it would create a similar demand in Hong Kong. The Macau episode reveals deep-seated deceit as the people of Macau are played as silent pieces in a game that served Britain's self-interest.
Then in 2002, the UK reinstated UK citizenship for colonial citizens. But, of course, it was too late for Hong Kong by that time. This chicanery lays bear British policy.
In the final years of Britain's rule, John Major decides to hand the keys of Government House to a politician. Until then, the job has fallen to career diplomats. Some proved skilled in the role; others were less competent. Then, finally, Chris Patten, a Tory grandee, lands the job because, in the ultimate irony, the people of Bath kick him out of office.
Since 1997 Patten has made a living from books and TV appearances, lauding his time in Hong Kong. It proved a nice earner for him. Also, he adopted Churchill's approach to history; "It will judge me well because I'll write it."
As you may tell, I don't ascribe to the view that Patten served Hong Kong well. The opposite. As the last governor, he did untold long-term damage to relations between Hong Kong and Beijing with his ill-conceived and rushed attempts at reform.
These moves produced a rift that resonates to this day. I do not intend to dwell on this here, except to say Patten was a master of self-publicity. He strutted the stage, burnishing his image, at the cost of Hong Kong's people standing with Beijing. He then had his big parade before sailing off.
In fairness, he's still remembered with fondness by some in Hong Kong. He engaged with the public, winning him approval as no colonial official had done the same. Yet, these superficial antics can't hide the truth because he achieved little of substance beyond poisoning the atmosphere.
There was one obligation that UK Government found unavoidable. Civil servants with a membership of Her Majesties Overseas Civil Service had expectations. This status is an arcane hangover from colonial history. But, unbeknown to me, it's conferred on recruitment in the UK. The full significance of HMOCS only became apparent around 1990.
HMOCS had its origins in 1954 when it replaced the Colonial Service. As Britain divested itself of Empire, it undertook to protect the interests of HMOCS officers. As a result, you could opt for work elsewhere in the Empire or seek compensation. Also, they may continue in service with the successor government for continuity purposes. In such a situation, compensation for their loss of HMOCS status is the norm.
In the 1950s and 1960s, as the Empire shrunk, HMOCS officers moved between colonies. To protect their status and keep them on-side, HMOCS offered comparable postings. It also undertook to safeguard pensions payable by now-defunct colonial governments. Hong Kong was the 43rd place, and probably the last, in which HMOCS arrangements applied.
For Hong Kong's HMOCS officers, no other colony can absorb them. And in any case, both Britain and China seek continuity. So they aim at retaining as many staff as possible, although uncoordinated policies did not always encourage this.
China made it known that it wanted the Expat civil servants to remain. Except for those in the highest positions, they foresaw a need to keep expertise. Yet, both sides understood that some officers would elect to go.
While the UK had a duty to protect HMOCS members, it's also committed to having continuity in the civil service and the police force. By default, this means encouraging people to stay.
At first, the UK is reluctant to acknowledge that the HMOCS provisions apply to Hong Kong. They argue that officers could remain in service without loss of benefits. This position changed when the Hong Kong HMOCS association came into being.
The membership spanned the entire civil service; motor vehicle examiners, fire station officers, drainage engineers, heads of department and judges. Faced with this formidable array, including fine legal minds, the Foreign Office opts to negotiate.
The details of the negotiations are dull, except to say the UK proved a tough deal-maker. As the talks drag on, us police officers make threatening noises about disaffection. No one is too concerned at a disgruntled engineer - but the threat of the police throwing in the towel is something else. Our voiced annoyance spurred the proceedings along. Meanwhile, briefings to a friendly reporter from the Daily Telegraph have the desired effect in London.
Regrettably, we had to resort to these tactics at such a sensitive time. But nothing else had the same impact. Eventually, a deal emerges. In the end, I don't feel that the HMOCS arrangements caused any more departures. On the contrary, once reassured by the protection of pensions, many officers opted to remain in the service.
At this stage, I was still doubtful about the future. Am I taking a risk staying in Hong Kong with so many unknowns and a young family? But the UK was hardly appealing.
In officers' messes and around coffee tables, endless debates rattle on, should I stay or go? At one extreme, the view is, "You can't work for Red China." Others are more optimistic, "China is opening to the world." These discussions proved testy at times.
An often-cited story is the fate of officers who worked in the old colony of Weiheiwei. Britain leased this coastal territory from China between 1898 and 1930. It never developed in the manner of Hong Kong, although it had a decent harbour. The story goes that British police officers who served in Weiheiwei continued to receive their pensions long after the colony reverted to Chinese rule.
With the end of 1996 approaching, I had to make the decision. Sitting down with a couple of whiteboards, the wife and I listed the pros and cons as we discussed options. Others, who had decided to go, applied peer pressure. I suspect, in part, to justify their decisions.
Finally, I realised as a family we'd invested so much in Hong Kong and likely had a better future here than restarting in the UK. We decide to stay.
I submitted the papers. A few colleagues expressed shock. One close friend lost his temper; "Fuck me. I thought you'd go. What's the deal? Have I made the wrong decision?"
Maybe he had, perhaps he hadn't. But, I made the right decision for my family in the end.
When Thatcher recoiled at this, Deng stated: "China will use force if necessary." The Iron Lady was powerless in the face of Deng's proposal. He held all the cards. Negotiations then began on the form of the transfer. My immediate conclusion is that the expatriate police officer, as the most visible symbol of British rule, looks time-expired.
I had little or no understanding of these issues when I joined up in 1980. But, soon, we all would be on a crash course learning the details of the various treaties that sealed Hong Kong's fate. It's a process that led me into the politics of Westminster and understanding the vast sweep of Chinese history.
On 19th December 1984, as the outline agreement signing takes place in Beijing, I'm on standby. Hundreds of officers at the Police Tactical Unit and elsewhere sit kitted up in riot gear. We are ready for trouble. No one could be sure how the public would react. Deng called the signing "a product of dialectic Marxism and historical materialism." Nothing happened. Perhaps the baffled Hong Kong public scrambled to look up 'dialectic Marxism.'
But much of the detail of the handover and post-handover arrangements remained unknown. The Joint Declaration set out some broad principles - a framework only. It looked reassuring that the pro-democrats sat on the Basic Law drafting committee. Also, Beijing is making a concerted effort to reassure people that the future is bright. The Brits trundle out wily old China-hand Percy Craddock. He asserts that the declaration "is the most comprehensive protection as could be devised and agreed."
In the period before 1989, an assuaged Hong Kong accepted this line. After all, China was changing for the better and, in any case, there's money to be made.
What's not forgotten is that Hong Kong is a refugee society - made up of people who fled communist rule. Such people tend to avoid politics, except when and if it impacts business. Whether it's the super-rich or the labourer, the majority is indifferent as long as nothing interferes with their ability to make a living - that's the prevailing sentiment until June 1989.
Yet, they'd do well to remember the quote from Pericles (494 BC to 429 BC) ... "Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn't mean politics won't take an interest in you." Unfortunately, politics was about to sweep up everyone in Hong Kong, and you couldn't opt out.
Never underestimate the impact of events in Beijing during the summer of 1989, as the build-up of protests, the rumours, and the grim final chapter played out on our TVs.
On 20th May 1989, as Beijing imposed martial law, thousands of Hong Kong people gathered in Victoria Park. Then the next day, an estimated one million marched in protest. It's unprecedented.
When the crackdown came to Beijing, Hong Kong people's attitudes transformed instantly. You can debate what happened in and around central Beijing that night. Yet, you can't escape the fact that many people died - citizens, students, and soldiers.
Overnight the population of Hong Kong becomes political. In the process, the old flames of suspicion of the communists rekindle. Dark memories of the cultural revolution resurfaced. People remember why their families had fled. So, naturally, an outpouring of anger is the immediate response. But then, people decided to consider their options.
Some Hong Kong people lay plans to leave. An exodus of talent starts, as the best and brightest find new homes in the West. Others decide to get involved by seeking to shape the future of Hong Kong.
The reaction of the Hong Kong people to the killings in Beijing had a Newtonian symmetry. China reacts with suspicion and foreboding that 'Western forces' will exploit the situation. Distrust grows as Hong Kong collect funds to aid the students, including to help their escape. Relentless protests and calls for action deepen the now entrenched positions.
All this knocks the ongoing handover negotiations off-course. The talks rumbled on clouded by political posturing, with arguments and name-calling. China holds that the events in Beijing were 'counter-revolutionary,' thus warranted suppression.
The Hong Kong people took a different tack and saw the students as patriots, protesting against corruption.
In response, China now perceives Britain has changed course to use Hong Kong as leverage. As a result, the issue of Hong Kong's future now has international attention. This change, in turn, affected sentiment in Beijing. They felt that the West would manipulate events in Hong Kong to counter China's rise. It's all part of the great game.
Martin LEE and Szeto WAH resigned from Basic Law Drafting Committee in protest. At the same time, China expelled them anyway. Martin LEE went to go to claim he'd face prison after 1997. Needless to say, it didn't happen.
Yet, none of this boded well for me. As an Expat cop, a Brit, part of the colonial regime, my future in Hong Kong looks bleak.
By the late 1980s, I took an active role in the Expatriate Inspectors Association. How that all started, I'm unsure. Probably me mouthing off about an issue and then told to either shut up or do something. Either way, I ended up as the chairman by the mid-1990s.
The Association represents the interests of inspectors, including Chief Inspectors, on expatriate terms. The membership is British, Australian, New Zealander, Canadian, and Indian. In addition, Chinese officers on overseas contracts can join.
Hong Kong police officers are not allowed to form or join trade unions. The Staff Associations fulfil the role. Besides, the EIA is the Local Inspectors, Superintendents and Junior Police Officers Associations.
In the lead up to 1997, I was drawn into negotiations on many related matters. Included in this are passports for the spouses of Expat officers, although the question 'Her Majesties Overseas Civil Service' proved most time-consuming and contentious.
Thanks to the help from British parliamentarians, we soon resolved the passports issue. Frank Field, the MP for Birkenhead, proved stalwart in his support.
When we first raised the passport issue, the British Government ignored us. It's their position that our spouses can enter the UK, then live there for seven years to get nationality.
As I spoke with a collection of chinless wonders from the Foreign Office, attempts to get the British to see sense went nowhere. These men, dispatched from time to time to Hong Kong to take the temperature, didn't take kindly to my words. Instead, with condescending indifference, they listened, left and then did nothing. In one notable exchange, a colleague confronted a visiting Minister with:
"You want to hand us over with the furniture, like the White Russians at the end of World War II."
The analogy was not accurate, but the sentiment was clear.
When MPs started asking questions in Parliament, the Foreign Office sat up. So in no time, British nationality for our wives is an option. First, however, the usual bureaucratic hurdles needed jumping.
My actions drew criticism from within the Force. A few senior officers didn't approve of us young lads being vocal - don't rock the boat! Those making the most noise would soon head off to retirement, making their displeasure hardly credible.
In retreating from the last major colony, the British wanted to manage perceptions; they needed to appear to act with honour. And that is a fine line to walk between meeting their obligations against what could get done. In my opinion, in many regards, they failed.
For starters, they departed without providing a through-train for the legislative council. This significant omission almost brought governance to a halt.
Yet, the most odious matter is the shabby treatment of ordinary Hong Kong citizens. Earlier in the 1980s, the UK removed citizenship rights for millions of Hong Kongers. Then, they denied Hong Kong folks access to the UK in a calculated move.
At the same time, British diplomats pressured Portugal not to grant citizenship to Macau residents. The Brits feared it would create a similar demand in Hong Kong. The Macau episode reveals deep-seated deceit as the people of Macau are played as silent pieces in a game that served Britain's self-interest.
Then in 2002, the UK reinstated UK citizenship for colonial citizens. But, of course, it was too late for Hong Kong by that time. This chicanery lays bear British policy.
In the final years of Britain's rule, John Major decides to hand the keys of Government House to a politician. Until then, the job has fallen to career diplomats. Some proved skilled in the role; others were less competent. Then, finally, Chris Patten, a Tory grandee, lands the job because, in the ultimate irony, the people of Bath kick him out of office.
Since 1997 Patten has made a living from books and TV appearances, lauding his time in Hong Kong. It proved a nice earner for him. Also, he adopted Churchill's approach to history; "It will judge me well because I'll write it."
As you may tell, I don't ascribe to the view that Patten served Hong Kong well. The opposite. As the last governor, he did untold long-term damage to relations between Hong Kong and Beijing with his ill-conceived and rushed attempts at reform.
These moves produced a rift that resonates to this day. I do not intend to dwell on this here, except to say Patten was a master of self-publicity. He strutted the stage, burnishing his image, at the cost of Hong Kong's people standing with Beijing. He then had his big parade before sailing off.
In fairness, he's still remembered with fondness by some in Hong Kong. He engaged with the public, winning him approval as no colonial official had done the same. Yet, these superficial antics can't hide the truth because he achieved little of substance beyond poisoning the atmosphere.
There was one obligation that UK Government found unavoidable. Civil servants with a membership of Her Majesties Overseas Civil Service had expectations. This status is an arcane hangover from colonial history. But, unbeknown to me, it's conferred on recruitment in the UK. The full significance of HMOCS only became apparent around 1990.
HMOCS had its origins in 1954 when it replaced the Colonial Service. As Britain divested itself of Empire, it undertook to protect the interests of HMOCS officers. As a result, you could opt for work elsewhere in the Empire or seek compensation. Also, they may continue in service with the successor government for continuity purposes. In such a situation, compensation for their loss of HMOCS status is the norm.
In the 1950s and 1960s, as the Empire shrunk, HMOCS officers moved between colonies. To protect their status and keep them on-side, HMOCS offered comparable postings. It also undertook to safeguard pensions payable by now-defunct colonial governments. Hong Kong was the 43rd place, and probably the last, in which HMOCS arrangements applied.
For Hong Kong's HMOCS officers, no other colony can absorb them. And in any case, both Britain and China seek continuity. So they aim at retaining as many staff as possible, although uncoordinated policies did not always encourage this.
China made it known that it wanted the Expat civil servants to remain. Except for those in the highest positions, they foresaw a need to keep expertise. Yet, both sides understood that some officers would elect to go.
While the UK had a duty to protect HMOCS members, it's also committed to having continuity in the civil service and the police force. By default, this means encouraging people to stay.
At first, the UK is reluctant to acknowledge that the HMOCS provisions apply to Hong Kong. They argue that officers could remain in service without loss of benefits. This position changed when the Hong Kong HMOCS association came into being.
The membership spanned the entire civil service; motor vehicle examiners, fire station officers, drainage engineers, heads of department and judges. Faced with this formidable array, including fine legal minds, the Foreign Office opts to negotiate.
The details of the negotiations are dull, except to say the UK proved a tough deal-maker. As the talks drag on, us police officers make threatening noises about disaffection. No one is too concerned at a disgruntled engineer - but the threat of the police throwing in the towel is something else. Our voiced annoyance spurred the proceedings along. Meanwhile, briefings to a friendly reporter from the Daily Telegraph have the desired effect in London.
Regrettably, we had to resort to these tactics at such a sensitive time. But nothing else had the same impact. Eventually, a deal emerges. In the end, I don't feel that the HMOCS arrangements caused any more departures. On the contrary, once reassured by the protection of pensions, many officers opted to remain in the service.
At this stage, I was still doubtful about the future. Am I taking a risk staying in Hong Kong with so many unknowns and a young family? But the UK was hardly appealing.
In officers' messes and around coffee tables, endless debates rattle on, should I stay or go? At one extreme, the view is, "You can't work for Red China." Others are more optimistic, "China is opening to the world." These discussions proved testy at times.
An often-cited story is the fate of officers who worked in the old colony of Weiheiwei. Britain leased this coastal territory from China between 1898 and 1930. It never developed in the manner of Hong Kong, although it had a decent harbour. The story goes that British police officers who served in Weiheiwei continued to receive their pensions long after the colony reverted to Chinese rule.
With the end of 1996 approaching, I had to make the decision. Sitting down with a couple of whiteboards, the wife and I listed the pros and cons as we discussed options. Others, who had decided to go, applied peer pressure. I suspect, in part, to justify their decisions.
Finally, I realised as a family we'd invested so much in Hong Kong and likely had a better future here than restarting in the UK. We decide to stay.
I submitted the papers. A few colleagues expressed shock. One close friend lost his temper; "Fuck me. I thought you'd go. What's the deal? Have I made the wrong decision?"
Maybe he had, perhaps he hadn't. But, I made the right decision for my family in the end.
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