After Nottingham, I was invited to speak at Solihull, one of the last places in England that presented their Hong Kong March cultural festival. Among the speakers was Timothy Bateman, an activist who helps new immigrants, including those from Hong Kong, settle and integrate into the community.
He shared his observations on Hong Kong’s culture, such as its fondness for hiking and more women being involved in community services than men.
One of his observations really struck me. Bateman said that one thing made him very sad about Hongkongers—they define themselves in negative terms. This observation comes from a statement that Hongkongers have been saying for the past few years: “Hong Kong is not China.” He hopes that Hongkongers will use more positive definitions.
Bateman’s perceptive observations are contextualized in the powerlessness of Hongkongers in the face of the fascist regime and the intensifying social tearing. Against this backdrop, moving from “what Hong Kong is not” to “what Hong Kong is” is, in fact, a major and difficult ideological construction project.
The history of Hong Kong over the past century is like a mirage, with people and things coming and going in a flash. No memories could have been turned into symbols of permanent value. This is evidenced in the symbols used in the protests in Hong Kong in the 2010s: umbrella, yellow helmet, and tear gas mask, all from improvisation. In contrast, the French Revolution used historical symbols: the Roman fasces as a symbol of power, and the Tricolor a combination of red and blue, the colors of Paris, and white, that of France.
Furthermore, under the national security law, Hong Kong has no room to discuss “what Hong Kong is.” Red lines, such as prohibiting the discussion of Hong Kong as a nation or an independent state, mean that all similar discussions can only stick to the official line.
“What Hong Kong is” becomes sensitive when the very concept of “Hongkonger” is considered politically incorrect against the backdrop in which pro-establishment media are boasting the historically high percentage of people identifying themselves as “Hong Kong Chinese.”
Moreover, senior Hong Kong officials increasingly use “Hong Kong compatriots,” a term that highlights a connection with China. Former Secretary for Education Kevin Yeung Yun-hung said that students might discuss Hong Kong’s independence—only that the conclusion must point out the infeasibility of independence. This thought control requirement turned out to be mild. Pro-establishment veteran Tam Yiu-chung criticized that such discussions violate the national security law and must be prohibited as they do not fall within freedom of speech.
In other words, unless adopting official answers, “What is Hong Kong” is, in reality, a taboo question.
Let’s shift to Solihull, which is not bothered by such red lines. Bateman said that he had prepared an introduction about Birmingham but found it inappropriate at the venue because Solihull is not part of Birmingham. Many Hongkongers may find this absurd as they long regard Solihull as a neighborhood or satellite city of Birmingham, which is factually untrue.
Solihull does use Birmingham’s postcode, but it is a separate administrative entity and only partners with Birmingham in the West Midlands Combined Authority, or known (incorrectly) as the Greater Birmingham Area. Solihull has a rich history. Historians suggest that the Shakespeare family was originally from Solihull, and the Birmingham Airport, previously known as Elmdon Airport, was originally part of the city. After Birmingham has taken it over, some Solihull residents still stick to its old name.
Solihull’s story suggests the importance of not easily submitting to political interference, appreciating history, and sticking to old names—all essential in consolidating an identity. What a coincidence that the issue of “Hong Kong is not China” was discussed in a venue that promotes “Solihull is not Birmingham,” which makes the sharing enlightening.
Hongkongers have something to learn from Solihull.
