My Personal Memory on June 4

There is no doubt that Chinese people are reluctant to jog their memories about the bloodshed on June 4, 1989. As explained by many, the collective silence is mostly due to people’s inner fears about any potential retaliation from the outwardly strong but quintessentially weak state, a giant in economy and military but a dwarf in democracy and freedom.

I

I wasn’t born when the pro-democracy movement unfolded in 1989. And June 4 did not reside in my memory until I was 12 years old.

In a scorching summer afternoon in 2002, my aunt took my brother and me to visit a friend of her. They had a long talk about a historical incident in 1989.

Now, neither can I clearly remember the details of their dialogues nor can I fathom the influence of that incident through their superficial words. What I can remember until now was that lady complained about her experience and fate and said a majority of college graduates in 1989 suffered hardship in finding decent jobs after the turbulence, enduring many difficulties in life.

II

Once upon a time, My mother inadvertently mentioned  her brother, namely my uncle, had a narrow escape before the crackdown, the climax of a string of epic incidents, took place on June 4.

My uncle was one of the million student protesters on the square. As many of his peers, he stood up to show his discontent over official corruption and his desire for democracy and political reform in communist China.

As he wanted to celebrate his  birthday peacefully, which was before the crackdown, he returned to his campus and then wasn’t permitted to leave for the square since his campus was sealed off strigently. Fortunately, he was safeguarded by his “selfish” behavior, escaping any possible brutal violence and the savage massacre appalling the entire world.

III

All my knowledge about June 4 was constructed upon other people’s narration. I, however, started to realize that these words from witnesses cannot satisfy my curiosity, because they could not bring me back to a scene where I could feel the intense atmosphere accurately.

Never did I have access to any picture or footage recorded during that period until several days before my high school entrance examination. When I was surfing the internet, I happened to click a link and watch a music video named The Blood is on the Square.

There are tears that flow in China

for her children that are gone.

There is fear and there is hiding,

for the killing still goes on.

And the iron hand of terror can

buy silence for today,

but the blood that lies upon the square

cannot be washed away.

Oh children, blood is on the square.

I repeated the music video twice and pressed the pause button at some extremely terrifying moments. The striking pictures along with the deep male voice rocked my heart and suddenly fueled my sympathy and anger.

My memory about the June 4 buried deep beneath my mind surfaced and presented an extremely bloody and desperate scene in front of my eyes. How could the state and party I was taught to love unconditionally be so inhumane?

I was plagued by the shock from the music video for the next few days. In order to alleviate my uneasiness in mind, I actively shared what I saw and heard with my one or two of my classmates and managed to seek for some comfort and relief from them. It did work.

IV

Thanks to the increasing convenience of internet and my self-learning “climb over the wall” skill, which made me possible to circumvent the Great FireWall via VPN proxy software, I was lucky that I could break away from the strict control of information temporarily. And I could read the Wikipedia page and many other historical documents about June 4 found from the internet.

Maybe since then, the brainwash strategy imposed on me failed. But, definitely, it still functioned toward many of my compatriots.

V

The CCP banned any discussion about June 4 in public, let alone publications involving this inglorious history. As a result, descriptions about this incident never be a part of my textbook.

To my surprise, my high school history teacher sketched this incident at class when imparting us the history after China’s implement of reform and opening up policy. It was rather unusual that such a old-fashioned person was willing to spend precious class time talking about something out of syllabus. I am really grateful for many people’s endeavor to show the dark side in history and to let young generation never forget the national wounds.

VI

When I continued my study at universities, I had more free time to read and more opportunities to learn about the truth behind the incident which shifted the trajectory of China’s recent history. Books like The prisoner of the State impressed me and ignited my true patriotism. Loving the vulnerable country rather than the strong but evil state has become one of my ingrained creeds.

Especially during my time in Hong Kong, I attended various seminar, film screening or exhibition with relevance to the incident, which expanded my horizon and insight on democracy and the future of China.

And I also spoke highly of the artistic creativity spawned by June 4. Songs like A Request to God by Tat Ming Pair, films like Summer Palace directed by Lou Ye and sculptures like Chinese Student by Duane Hanson are all legacies of the landmark incident.

Chinese Student by Duane Hanson

Last year, on the 25th anniversary of June 4, for the first time I attended the vigil at Victoria Park, holding a fragile candle and singing those patriotic songs with a swarm of compatriots.  It was a painstaking war against time and amnesia. 

Stumbling Blocks for Finding Love

Another Friday night, at 9:30 p.m., the bustling Sichuan-flavour restaurant located on Ho Fuk Street closes its doors. Waiters move tables away, turning the outdoor terrace on the 5th floor into a spacious club. Shrouded in gentle yellow light and soft music, the place surrounded by skyscrapers seems simple and cozy. Dozens of white-collar workers from various industries gathered here with a common purpose — finding love.

A professional consultant first guided them to discover their basic love problems by answering some easy questions, and then encouraged them to share their perspectives about love one by one.

Dozens of Gangpiaos attended the gathering.

These white-collar workers also have a common identity: they are gangpiao (港漂). This Chinese term combines two characters: gang is the Mandarin Chinese pronunciation of Kong, an abbreviation of Hong Kong, while piao means ‘to drift’, vividly describing these people’s lives. As a concept, gangpiao has never been defined officially. But it is generally used to refer to Mainland Chinese people who have come to work or study in Hong Kong.

In 2003 and 2006, the Hong Kong government launched a ‘Scheme for Mainland Talents and Professionals’ and a ‘Quality Migrant Admission Scheme’ to attract qualified Mainland people and increase Hong Kong’s competitiveness in the global market. On the other hand, looser entry requirements for study in Hong Kong and new immigration arrangements for non-local graduates since 2008 also provided scores of Mainland people with opportunities to study and work here.

If we define gangpiao as Mainland Chinese coming to Hong Kong for employment or study with a valid visa or permit, in 2011 there were about 63,000 gangpiao, according to the results of the 2011 Population Census, but the total number is estimated to be higher.

For a majority of gangpiao, however, finding boyfriends or girlfriends is still a headache, regardless of how long they have been in Hong Kong and the industry they work on.

Heavy pressure

Employees in Hong Kong are well known for their hardworking and diligent working ethics. The 2012 Price and Earnings Report by UBS ranked Hong Kong 5th in terms of longest working hours per year among 72 major cities around the world, with Hong Kong people working about 9.2 hours per day and 2,296 hours per year. Since no standard working hours policy has been established in Hong Kong, overtime has long been a custom in many companies in the city.

Liu Zhuobing, 24, who did his undergraduate studies at Sun Yat-sen University in Guangzhou and the University of Hong Kong under a ‘2+2’ programme, and who started to work as a junior architect designer two years ago, is one of the victims suffering more lengthy working hours than he expected. “Everyone has a tight schedule and it is not easy to find adequate free time to talk to others in depth, which hinders smooth communication and mutual understanding, let alone the development of a love relationship.” Liu said. He thinks this situation is hard to change, even if people are promoted to a higher level. “Hong Kong is a fast-paced society. Many other industries are more demanding than mine,” he added. As a result, he thinks that, on the one hand, gangpiao should take the initiative to make more friends. On the other hand, he feels that a smaller-scale social network may benefit deeper communication.

Uncertain Future

According to the Hong Kong government’s policies, Mainland people who have stayed in Hong Kong for at least seven consecutive years under a valid visa can apply for a permanent identity card. As a result, many Mainland people take advantage of this policy, staying here to accumulate working experience until they attain the application qualifications.

Staying or leaving is indeed the dilemma plaguing Liu Dongbai. Liu did his undergraduate and postgraduate studies in Hong Kong. Adding the two years of working experience here, he is now eligible to apply for his permanent resident status. “Essentially, every gangpiao is in an unstable state. There is a lot of anxiety among us; the dilemma of staying or leaving adds a great deal of variability to our love life. Many gangpiao who have stayed here for three or four years are already starting to ponder their next steps.” he said.

A survey conducted by Hong Kong Ideas Centre, an independent non-profit organisation, revealed that while over 70% of the respondents decided to stay in Hong Kong for employment in the short-term, only 28% regarded Hong Kong as an ideal place for long-term work. They were more inclined to return to the Mainland or go overseas.

Liu is also the organizer of the series of Friday night activities, subordinate to Gangpiao Quan (港漂圈), an online community committed to serving the growing gangpiao population. As the website says, it is a home to Mainland people sojourning in Hong Kong. The organisation also set up a singles club and arranges some outdoor activities during weekends.

Culture Shock

Unlike Liu, some others have made up their minds to put down roots here. Neil Zhang, who graduated from Tsinghua University, one of the two most prestigious universities in the Mainland, came to Hong Kong a decade ago. Resigning from the bank that brought him to Hong Kong, he started his own small-scale investment company in 2008. Zhang said, as a senior gangpiao, that he can still feel the culture shock.

Despite returning to China’s rule nearly 17 years ago, Hong Kong people are still culturally different from their Mainland compatriots. Immune to the plague of fierce political events that unfolded in the Mainland, Hong Kong has benefited considerably from its colonial legacy and advantageous geopolitical position, which has cultivated a generation different from the one in the Mainland.

“Due to the disparity of language, background and ideas, even though you have local colleagues, your connection with them is still restricted to the working level.” ——Neil Zhang

“Just like natural selection, due to the disparity of language, background and ideas, even though you have local colleagues, your connection with them is still restricted to the working level,” Zhang said. “Beyond that, it is uncommon for gangpiao to integrate into their social life. So to some extent, the city does affect our love life.” After a short recall, he added that, among his gangpiao friends, he could not think of any who got married to a Hong Kong local.

Approaching 40, Zhang has gradually got used to his single status and maintains a ‘let it go’ attitude toward love. Instead of blaming the obstacles, he prefers to talk about the convenience of living in Hong Kong, praising it as an ideal city for ambitious people to thrive in. “Compared with the Mainland, it is more possible to succeed here. You don’t need to get entangled with all kinds of guanxi. Only your performance matters. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Work harder for more possibilities,” Zhang said with a smile.

Low Salary

The recent enrolment expansion in self-funded master programmes in every university has attracted a huge number of young gangpiao students to this ‘Pearl of the Orient’. After graduation, with no more time to savour the city, most of them have to face fierce job competition and a meager starting salary. A special report on youth in Hong Kong from the 2011 Population Census showed that the median monthly income of working youth remained at $8,000 between 2001 and 2011, about 67% of the median ($12,000) of the whole working population. Young people’s purchasing power is actually shrinking, considering currency inflation.

Incompatible with the high pressure that young gangpiao endure in the workplace, the bleak salary prospects deter many from staying in Hong Kong any longer after graduation. And love is too luxurious for them to even consider.

Christina Deng, a postgraduate at Hong Kong Baptist University, has been in Hong Kong for just eight months. She found her boyfriend in her own class and many of her single female classmates expressed their envy. “They feel it is particularly tough for them to start their careers here, on their own, while two people can support each other both physically and psychologically,” Deng said. “But my boyfriend and I also feel lost sometimes and we are mindful of and vigilant against possible difficulties in the future, primarily related to money.” But Deng is still confident about the future. “Although we don’t yet have a firm material foundation, it doesn’t matter once we start working and can make an effort together.”

Fisher Du, a psychological consultant who specialises in love-related and interpersonal relationships, believes that the lack of interpersonal skills is the key cause of many gangpiao’s love problems. “Due to inadequate opportunities, many of them have failed to improve their social networks positively,” she said. “And they are unfamiliar with how to interact with the opposite sex, especially the people they are interested in, before establishing an emotional relationship.”

“Because humans are social animals, gangpiao should cherish every social opportunity to meet various people and do different things. They should keep calm and be open-minded,” Du noted.

Radio program: “Gangpiao”‘s Love

On the Use of Derogatory Terms in Hong Kong

Recently, renowned Hong Kong English-language daily newspaper South China Morning Post banned the discriminatory use of the word ‘locust’ with reference to Mainland Chinese. This act raised concerns as to whether it was self-censorship that led to this decision.

Regardless of the actual reason behind this decision, it is a fact that several terms have been coined and used in a derogatory fashion by Hong Kong people to describe their Mainland compatriots over the past decades.

A Caan (阿灿)

One of the best-known terms in history is A Caan, which was the name of a character in TV drama The Good, The Bad And The Ugly in the late 1970s.

In the drama, A Caan was an immigrant from the Mainland. Faced with a culture shock, he could not adapt to the strange environment, culture and people in Hong Kong, behaving fatuously, lazily, rustically and impatiently.

This character represents the new immigrants arrived in Hong Kong in the  1960s to 1970s, many of whom sneaked across the border in a huge migration flow. Since then, A Caan has been a generic derogatory term for new immigrants from the Mainland. 

There are also some other terms referring to specific groups of people from the Mainland.

Tai Huen Chai (大圈仔)

Tai Huen initially described the way how immigrants arrived in Hong Kong. Instead of climbing over the mountains in border between the Mainland and Hong Kong, they floated on tires and swam across the Shenzhen River, which also separates the two regions. The circular shape of tire they used is the origin of the expression Tai Huen, which in Chinese means ‘big circle’. Chai means young male.

Due to their low level of education, these Tai Huen Chai mainly took up heavy physical work, accepting low salaries. Later on, a number of them, who used to be Red Guards in the Cultural Revolution or were veterans from the Vietnam War, became involved in violent crimes, like looting or killing. The gang they established was called the Gang of Tai Huen.

Bak Gu (北姑)

This term refers to women who, due to their lack of labor skills or simply due to a desire to make huge money, entered the sex industry. Compared with local sex workers, they could not speak fluent Cantonese, which became their defining characteristic and source of attraction in the eyes of local clients.

Besides this original meaning, some other women from the Mainland who engaged in other industries were also labeled as Bak Gu. Award-winning actress Carina Lau from Jiangsu Province and diva singer Faye Wong from Beijing were once called Bak Gu. 

On the one hand, Hong Kong people got their inspiration for terms from television programs, like A Caan. But, at the same time, mirroring of Hong Kong society, some local television programs and films began to describe these new immigrants and Mainland workers as a band of thugs. Films describing Mainland immigrants in this way include heist film Long Arm of The Law in 1984 or 2000’s Durian. It was a two-way process.

In recent years, with the rapid economic development of Mainland China, the image of Mainland Chinese people is changing quickly. The outdated, derogatory image is being replaced by a hybrid image encompassing not only modern, open and wealthy, but also money-worshipping, impolite and upstart characteristics. Correspondingly, several new terms have gained new popularity.

Keung Kwok Jan (强国人)

It literally means ‘powerful country’s people’. China is an emerging powerful country in regional and international affairs, both economically and militarily. But when it comes to Mainland Chinese’s politeness and etiquette, it is a different story.

Hong Kong tabloid Apple Daily frequently uses this term in its news coverage to satirise Mainland Chinese for their negative behaviour. Searching Apple Daily’s website for the term Keung Kwok Jan, you can get about 176,000 results.

Locusts (蝗虫)

The most common term nowadays must be ‘locust’. This especially decries those Mainland Chinese who swarm the city, snatching limited resources, like infant milk formula and public transport, and threatening locals’ demands. The so-called ‘locusts’ include mainland tourists, anchor babies, etc.

In 2012, a local newspaper published a full-page advertisement with an image of a huge locust. The ad criticised those locust-like pregnant women from the Mainland who drained Hong Kong’s healthcare resources, and showed its resentment by shouting out “Hong Kong people cannot tolerate it any more!” These provocative picture and words were the debut of the term ‘locusts’. Since then, the term became mainstream in public discourse, and some public figures and politicians in Hong Kong were even dedicated to disseminating the so-called ‘locust view (蝗虫论)’, instigating social tension. As tension flareds, some disgruntled Hong Kong residents launched an ‘anti-locust’ protest in February 2014 and harassed Mainland visitors on Canton Road. The xenophobic protest resulted in a barrage of intense criticisms from top Hong Kong government officials and Chinese state media.

There are many other similar terms to denote mainland Chinese, such as ‘People from Zhina (支那人)’, historically used by Japanese invaders during World War Two, and “大6佬”, meaning vulgar people from the Mainland. Some netizens use them to disparage Mainland people.

I do not believe the antagonism or hostility reflected in the use of these terms is ingrained in Hong Kong residents. Instead, they were created as a response to the increasing discontentment with Mainlanders’ impolite and uncivilized behaviours, which affected Hong Kong people’s daily life.

Immune to the plague of fierce political events that unfolded in the Mainland, Hong Kong benefited considerably from its colonial legacy and advantageous geopolitical position, which cultivated a generation of residents who cherish freedom, liberty and politeness. However, after experiencing years of political unrest, Mainland people were lacking basic civic ethics education. And their individual qualities and politeness did not improve at the same pace as their wealth after the 1978 reform and opening up. This has led to their self-righteous conduct becoming international jokes in many occasions. Given this obvious disparity in values, lifestyle and customs, the fissure between Hong Kong and Mainland people is not difficult to understand.

This only means the use of derogatory terms is understandable, not that it is reasonable. Such behaviour can never be justified, as it is closely associated with the commonly-held value of respect. This problem is not an illusion, and it does need to be tackled by both sides of the dispute.

A melting-pot metropolis, Hong Kong is a plural and tolerant society where locals are capable of living in harmony with people of all races, faiths, and nationalities, Let alone Mainland Chinese people, who share the same origins, culture and nationality with Hong Kong locals.

Businessman: mainland visitors benefit Hong Kong

The influx of mainland Chinese visitors can be immensely beneficial if properly managed, said a Hong Kong-based journalist and entrepreneur.

Stephen Vines, who has been in Hong Kong for over two decades and owns a restaurant here, said the influx benefits Hong Kong by providing many local people with employment and business opportunities. And it also offers mainland visitors a glimpse of a sophisticated cosmopolitan lifestyle.

Tourism is an important pillar of Hong Kong’s economy. Three quarters (about 36.86 million) of the visitors are from mainland China.

Assessment Report on Hong Kong Capacity to Receive Tourists issued by Hong Kong’s Commence and Economic Development Bureau on January suggested that Hong Kong would generally be able to receive its visitor arrivals in 2017, which is estimated to be over 70 million.

In the article published in the South China Morning Post in the mid of February, Vines said, given the abysmal track record for government’s forecasting, the assessment “should be treated with contempt.”

This assessment also admitted that hotel rooms would continue to be in tight supply and the continuous growth in visitor arrivals has indeed exceeded the public’s psychological acceptability, bringing about actual impact on the livelihood of the community in some areas.

Some lawmakers, therefore, proposed to impose HK$100 arrival tax in a bid to curb the increasing influx of mainland Chinese tourists and visitors.

Vines said “the stupidity of this proposal is barely worth discussing.” He also blamed those “self-promoting” and “opportunistic” politicians are “trying to enhance their popularity by grovelling in the gutter of anti-outsider sentiment.”

As the tension flared, some disgruntled Hong Kong residents launched an “anti-locust” protest in February and harassed those mainland visitors on Canton Road.

The xenophobic protest resulted in a barrage of intense criticisms from four top Hong Kong government officials and some Chinese state media.

But later, at the annual National People’s Congress session in Beijing, China’s top official on Hong Kong affairs Zhang Dejiang voiced ‘concern’ over Hong Kong’s mainland tourist capacity and ordered a probe.

Vines further showed his disappointment on Hong Kong government who failed to address these fears.

He suggested Hong Kong government should “show the least degree of backbone” in relevant issues and encourage constructive debate by committing itself to preserving Hong Kong’s identity.

Moreover, he suggested Hong Kong government should improve infrastructure to serve both visitors and residents.

Witness’s reflection on “June 4”

The biggest legacy of the violent crackdown of the student protests in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square in 1989 was to make Chinese people ponder everything in a more sophisticated and prudent manner, said a journalism professor.

Prof. Steve GUO, head of the Journalism Department of Hong Kong Baptist University who covered the demonstrations as a China Daily reporter, was sharing his personal reflections on this incident at a talk with students on Saturday, organized by MA program in International Journalism Studies at Hong Kong Baptist University as the 25th anniversary of the protests is approaching.

In the spring of 1989, Chinese students and workers assembled in Tiananmen Square to voice strong dissatisfaction with the corruption of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and press for political liberalization, democracy and reform.

The movement ended with the government mobilizing the army to disperse the protests violently in the early hours of June 4. A huge turning point in contemporary Chinese history, the “June 4” has since become a taboo topic in China.

GUO said he assumed a dual identity at the time. After his daily routine as a journalist, he always returned the square and spent many sleepless nights there supporting the protesters

He said the protesters were mainly composed of young college students with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, they were afraid of any gunshot at night. On the other hand, they looked forward to hearing gunshots, which, in their opinion, would expedite the ending of the protests.

When PLA troops fired at people indiscriminately, however, he and many others were overwhelmed by feelings of panic and uncertainty. Soon, they became angry because the situation was beyond their imagination.

“How could a state brutally attack its own people by force,” he sais. “We started to feel how weak people were in front of the gigantic state machine.”

Asked why the 1989 protests failed to achieve their goals, GUO identified two reasons and compared it with another Tiananmen incident in 1976.

On April 5, 1976, people from all walks of life gathered to mourn the death of Premier Zhou Enlai and the gathering soon evolved into a protest against the “Gang of Four” and the Cultural Revolution.

“First, the major participants in 1989 were composed of immature young students and the absence of intellectuals brought greater improbability of their victory,” he said. “Besides, any act that directly defied the state system was absolutely intolerant for the CCP and was regarded as subversion of state power, naturally incurring the savage crackdown in the end.”

When it comes to China’s future, GUO admitted he did not feel optimistic. The widely anticipated political reform was around the corner, he said.

“The CCP was, is and will be exerting a huge influence on every aspect to block people’s ability to act independently, which in my mind is a prerequisite for reform.”

The sharing session was held after the screening of a three-hour documentary The Gate of Heavenly Peace, which explored the origins and influence of the protests.

Press Freedom down in Hong Kong

HONG KONG – On February 12th Reporters Without Borders, a France-based non-profit organization dedicated to promoting press freedom, released its 2014 Press Freedom Index[1], surveying 180 countries and regions. Hong Kong’s press freedom slid three places, from last year’s 58th to this year’s 61st position, making this is the third year in a row Hong Kong’s press freedom worsens. When this organization first published the index in 2002 Hong Kong was in 18th place.

This report emphasised that China is exerting increasing economic influence on Hong Kong’s media: “media independence [in Hong Kong] is now in jeopardy…The Chinese Communist Party’s growing subjugation of the Hong Kong executive and its pressure on Hong Kong media through its ‘Liaison Office’ is increasingly compromising media pluralism.”

Even when using different criteria, survey methods and weighing systems to assess each country or region’s media situation, other watchdog organisations arrived at similar conclusions.

The 2013 Freedom of the Press Index[2], an annual survey of media independence in 197 countries and regions published by US-based independent organisation Freedom House, which started to monitor threats to media independence in 1980, categorised Hong Kong media’s status quo as a ‘partly free’ state. Hong Kong’s press freedom score, based on its economic, political and legal environment for the media in 2012 was 35, the second highest score (the higher the worse) since 1994, when the organisation first gave Hong Kong a score, 5 points lower than 1997’s 40.

In fact, many Hong Kong citizens expected such a decline. Topics and events concerning press freedom frequently grab the headlines of newspapers and TV news, and attract people’s increasing attention.

Titled Back to a Maoist Future: Press Freedom in China 2013[3], the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ)’s sixth annual China Press Freedom Report, claimed Hong Kong’s media industry is “getting worse and worse” and summarised 12 major issues in 2013 that shackled Hong Kong’s press freedom. These include:

– Authorities use the legal system in pursuit of power

– Police targets journalists, fails to stop attacks

– Media owners are intimidated, and premises attacked

– Authorities conceal, alter official information

– “Privacy” is a pretext for restricting information

– Turmoil over issue of new free-to-air TV licenses

– TV stations bar reporters from news group

– Journalists were thrown out of APEC meeting

– Hong Kong journalists are harassed on Mainland

– China’s state media meddles in Hong Kong politics

– Public broadcaster’s independence is under pressure

– Journalists, media outlets face fines and court actions

Within the first two months of 2014, another three events related to press freedom are seemingly contributing to current anxiety. In January it was disclosed that advertisers from HSBC, Standard Chartered and Bank of East Asia canceled their advertising contracts amounting to HK$200 million with Apple Daily at the end of last year. Similarly, several Chinese-funded companies withdrew their advertising worth HK$10 million from AM730 daily free newspaper.

On January 20, the senior management of Ming Pao decided to abruptly remove its chief editor Lau Chun-to and to appoint Malaysian editor Chong Tien Siong to direct the newspaper, causing concern and discontent among staff members.

And on February 12, outspoken radio host Li Wei-ling was suddenly fired by Commercial Radio without a clear explanation. Ms. Li said her dismissal definitely reflects the suppression of press freedom and freedom of speech by the Hong Kong government.

The gradually deteriorating media landscape these events show not only dampens many media professionals and journalism students’ enthusiasm, but it also worries the general public, dampening its confidence in freedom of expression

According to a poll conducted and published in November 2013 by the Public Opinion Program at Hong Kong University, the percentage of people dissatisfied with freedom of press in Hong Kong is now 25.8%, while the percentage of satisfied people is 52.9%. This leaves a net value – or difference between satisfied and dissatisfied people – of 27.1%, the lowest since 1997, when Hong Kong returned to the PRC and the poll was first conducted. In that year, the difference was 52.4%, with 67.4% of people claiming to be satisfied with the existing freedom of the press in Hong Kong and 15% claiming to be dissatisfied.

To further increase people’s awareness of Hong Kong’s media crisis, the Hong Kong Journalists Association (HKJA) produced and distributed blue ribbons to over 6,600 marathon runners participating in the Standard Chartered Hong Kong Marathon on February 16.

What is the next? We will see.

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[1] http://rsf.org/index2014/en-index2014.php

[2] http://www.freedomhouse.org/report-types/freedom-press#.UwBf1_nUNYt

[3] http://asiapacific.ifj.org/en/articles/2013-annual-report-on-press-freedom-in-china-and-hong-kong

Around Taiwan· Memory on the Way

Taipei101 at Night

Eslite Bookstore

Hostel

Taipei MRT

Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall

Freedom Square

Luce Memorial Chapel

Sun Moon Lake

Alley in Lukang

Formosa MRT station

Pier 2 Art District

Beacon in Kenting

Fishery Harbor

Eastern Coastline

Chingshui Cliff

Taroko National Park

Chihsingtan Beach

Chiufen

Tamkang middle school

Tamkang middle school

Tamsui Fisherman’s Wharf

Guanyin Mountain

Beyond the Frame

In 1980s, Pilkem Street at Jordan was lined with so many handicraft shops selling from glass work to copper-wares, from frames to foreign goods.

Today, this same buzzy busy street is home to convenience stores, office buildings, and apparel stores.Various craft shops can be found no more. Only one remains — Kai Ya Company.

Hidden at an unnoticeable corner of a narrow alley, Kai Ya Company is a custom framing shop owned by Bob Chow Ging-lam. He has been working at this 100-some-square-feet shop for over three decades.

Chow insisted on making every frame by hand. He now tells about his family business and the future of handicrafts in Hong Kong.

Mission Impossible

A tough teacher gives me the first on-camera opportunity on my TV journalism path.

Morgan LIN

In August 2012, I was doing my internship in a local TV news channel. All the time, I assisted a female reporter to finish some news gathering. She was supervising my internship. Maybe because she was relatively junior compared with other reporters, all stories we were assigned to interview were relatively minor and monotonous.

As this weird feeling persisted, my enthusiasm for journalism was being worn down. I just became accustomed to the fast pace of work and constantly changing shifts, nothing more.

Dawn heralded the arrival of a new day – Aug. 17, 2012.

At 6: 30, I arrived at the office and searched the Internet to find some stories worth covering at the same time.

At 7:15, senior reporter Sang Ding rushed into the office. I greeted him. From his expression, I could detect there was something wrong. After a call, he turned to me and told me to come with him to Pengzhou to cover a disaster.

Hearing the order, I felt a little shocked and afraid. Even if I never cooperated with this experienced reporter, I had heard gossip about him from other reporters on how tough and unkind he was. Even other interns complained about him. So I did not know whether I could get along well with him. Besides, suffering from sleep deprivation, I would rather stay at the air-conditioned office to have a nap before my supervising teacher came. However, as a trainee, even though I was reluctant, I had to abide by the order.

At 7:30, we set off to Pengzhou. Stretching from last night into the early morning, more than nine inches of heavy rainfall caused widespread havoc in Pengzhou overnight, triggering flash flood and debris flow and causing traffic jams and houses to collapse.

At 9:00, we finally arrived at Xinxingchang Town, one of the worst-hit areas. At the scene, the road surface of a one-lane connecting Pengzhou with Baishuihe had been destroyed by the rush of the persistent rains, leaving a five-meter-deep hole covering at least 20 square meters of pavement. And impact force from flooding was continuing to tear away the remaining portions of the road, approaching the two-story building alongside the road.

After a short shoot, Sang told me to observe the situation carefully and prepare a one-minute on-camera report. And then he went on focusing on shooting pictures, leaving me standing still with astonishment.

Frankly speaking, I have imagined the moment of doing my first on-camera report for many times but never expected that it could happen in such a hasty situation.

Usually, this kind of work is conducted by experienced on-camera reporters rather than a rookie. Since I had no courage and no chance to refuse his order again, I immediately flung myself into preparation. From the ruined road to the raging river, from the reaction of victims to the work of the maintenance workers, I absorbed as much information as possible during a limited time and organized my words in a logical manner.

Nearly at 9:30, I had my first try. Only after merely two sentences, it was interrupted because once I forgot what I planned to say next, I could not continue my reporting. I could not escape from the state of reciting something prepared even though I repeatedly reminded myself to describe the situation naturally and fluently.

Taking a deep breath, I was asked for a second try. This time, I tried to exert some psychological suggestions on myself to overcome my persistent tension. I managed to clear away those annoying words hovering in my brain and expressed what I was observing instead of a set of fixed contents. Still, I could feel the gradual cold of my back and the irregular tremor of my vocal cords. Each word was squeezed out of my throat with difficulty. In a moment, the word got stuck. Accompanied with that silence, I failed again.

Even though Sang did not immediately comment on my performance, I could sense his impatience and felt a bit frustrated and disappointed. Nevertheless, it was not an appropriate occasion to explain to him that this was my first time on-camera report and I totally had no experience. What I could do was to calm myself down and summon up my courage to bite the bullet for the third time.

Now, I forget how I got through that one minute in detail just as I forgot anything that would disturb me on the scene. As if thrown into a vacuum state, I did not realize that I had made it until the last word popped out my mouth. The only imperfection was an unnoticeable pause when I introduced the size of the hole. Nevertheless, I was totally relieved to have got it through.

At 10:30, on our way back to Chengdu, Sang mentioned my on-camera performance and gave me some advice. When I told him this was my debut, he stared at me with surprise and appreciation. It is an expression that I will remember forever.

As the mission turned from impossible to possible, my enthusiasm for journalism was rekindled.