“It is never a pleasant experience leaving a place you have called home and lived in your whole life, without knowing the return date,” said Wong, a young Hongkonger who departed for London last year. “Having the last sight of my hometown from the plane, I felt sorry for those who insist on staying, worried about the city’s future, and anxious about my life in a country I had never been to.” Wong’s story is not just about a random migrant but is now shared by hundreds of thousands of other Hongkongers.
Hong Kong, once a vibrant city celebrated as an international financial hub, is now witnessing a significant new wave of mass exodus. While official data on the scale of this migration is unavailable, estimates suggest that between 200,000 and 500,000 people have left the city over the past few years. Hong Kong has long been familiar with migration; cross-border employment and split families are nothing new to Hongkongers. However, the mass migration taking place is still something worth a glance at – not only because of the factors driving it but also because, for the first time, it has created a Hong Kong diaspora.
From Fleeing Communist China…
Four decades ago, in the 1980s, a complex sentiment ran through this then British-ruling city. Following the Sino-British Joint Declaration, which outlined the handover of Hong Kong’s sovereignty from the UK to China in 1997, most Hongkongers, being ethnic Chinese, felt happy about the prospect of “returning” to Chinese rule due to their Chinese identity on one hand. On the other hand, they were also worried that the political freedom and rule of law they enjoyed under British rule would vanish once Communist China’s flag was hoisted in the city. Anxious about the political uncertainty, some chose to leave.
Anxiety among Hongkongers peaked after the Tiananmen Incident in June 1989. The brutal military crackdown on Beijing’s democratic movement left many horrified. Alongside widespread anger and sorrow, there was a collapse of confidence in Hong Kong’s future under Chinese rule after 1997. To illustrate the impact, a study showed that 75 percent of Hongkongers were optimistic about the future in January 1989, but the number dropped sharply to 52 percent by September. Another survey a month later revealed that 70 percent of Hongkongers had no confidence in the Chinese government’s pledge not to interfere in Hong Kong’s affairs after 1997. Fearing that the city might follow Beijing’s path under Communist rule, more Hongkongers chose to leave. A survey in 1991, two years after the incident, revealed that nearly 12 percent of Hongkongers were planning to apply for immigration, while as many as 44 percent already had relatives living abroad.
As mentioned, although it is clear that Hongkongers at the time were not receptive to Communist China, many were still glad that Hong Kong would come under Chinese rule, as most saw themselves as Chinese. Since the late 1980s, numerous surveys on Hong Kong identity showed that over a 10-year span, fewer people considered themselves “Hongkongers,” while more embraced a “Chinese” affiliation as 1997 approached. Meanwhile, many Hongkongers self-identified as “civilized Chinese,” believing they could lead China toward democratization. Therefore, the concerns stemming from the Tiananmen Incident, combined with the designated fate of handover, had somehow interlinked Chinese and Hongkongers in a common destiny.
The interconnectedness of the Hongkonger and Chinese identities at that time was evident in the diasporic communities. Following the mass exodus, many Hongkongers did not establish separate networks of their own. Instead, they embedded themselves in Chinese diasporic communities, which included ethnic Chinese from China, Singapore, Indonesia, and Vietnam. Of the half-million Hongkongers who emigrated during the 1980s and 1990s, nearly two-thirds resettled in Canada, particularly in Toronto and Vancouver, simply because of the existing and close-knit Chinese presence in those cities.
…To Standing for the Homeland…
After 1997, when uncertainty gave way to certainty, the migration wave paused. The early years following the handover are often seen as the heydays of Hong Kong under Chinese rule, when the Chinese government at that time made little attempt to intervene in Hong Kong affairs. Hongkongers could still enjoy political freedom and rule of law they had under British rule – dangerous values apparently intolerable in authoritarian China. However, tension between Hongkongers and Beijing subtly grew over the 2000s, as Hongkongers clearly rejected the proposal of national security legislation, and Beijing repeatedly postponed implementing its promise to allow universal suffrage eventually.
Entering the 2010s, especially after Xi Jinping assumed power as China’s leader in 2012, this tension between Hongkongers and Beijing escalated into a deterioration of relations. While the Chinese government was trying to tighten its grip on Hong Kong, the reaction force from Hongkongers seemed to catch Beijing off guard. In 2014, the Chinese government issued the “One Country, Two Systems” white paper, asserting its “comprehensive jurisdiction” over Hong Kong. This move prompted the outbreak of the Umbrella Movement, during which hundreds of thousands of Hongkongers took to the streets to protest against Beijing’s intervention and demand universal suffrage. The protests were met with riot police and tear gas.
Once viewing themselves as “civilized Chinese” with a role to promote freedom and democracy to the rest of China, Hongkongers soon realized that their own freedom and democracy were on edge under Chinese rule. Against this backdrop, the ideas of Hong Kong nationalism and even independence rapidly gained popularity in the latter part of the 2010s, along with a decline in Hongkongers’ sense of identity as “Chinese.” It was no surprise, then, that during a massive protest in 2019, the most popular slogan was “Liberate Hong Kong, Revolution of Our Time” (光復香港 時代革命). This slogan originated with Edward Leung, a Hong Kong nationalist activist who advocated for Hongkongers’ right to self-determination, during his 2016 electoral campaign.
…And Building Their Own Diaspora
Following the crackdown on the 2019 protests and the imposition of the National Security Law by Beijing in 2020, Hongkongers’ longstanding fears, which had existed at least since the 1980s, finally came into reality, driving the most recent wave of mass exodus. The British government’s introduction of the BN(O) visa scheme in 2021, in response to the National Security Law, has enabled many Hongkongers to relocate to the UK. While the majority of those leaving are using this scheme, others have chosen to settle in other democratic countries such as Canada, the US, Taiwan, Continental Europe, and Australia.
While their intention to escape Communist China remains similar, this wave of emigrants is leaving not as “civilized Chinese” but with a distinct identity as Hongkongers. Unlike the previous generation, they refused to join the Chinese communities. Instead, they are actively creating their own diasporic communities, which serve a markedly different purpose. While many Hongkongers who left in the 1980s and 1990s focused primarily on improving the lives of themselves and their families, research suggests that members of this new wave of migration see themselves as carrying an extra obligation: preserving Hong Kong’s unique culture and identity, which they believe the Chinese government is deliberately eroding.
Numerous initiatives have emerged to conserve Hongkongers’ culture and narrative. Hong Kong diasporic media outlets like Flow HK and Green Bean, as well as cultural events such as the Hong Kong March in the UK have sprung up – developments that would have been almost unimaginable just a decade ago.
Wong, who has been actively involved in the diasporic Hongkonger community in the UK since his arrival, emphasizes, “We have to carry on the freedom struggle for Hongkongers, as we now have the space to do so overseas. Especially with freedom of speech so severely suppressed in Hong Kong, we must speak out for our comrades who can no longer speak for themselves.” Wong’s statement underscores the distinctly political orientation of the new-born Hong Kong diaspora This is further supported by findings showing that over two-thirds of Hongkongers in the UK are supporters of the Hong Kong democrats, a sharp contrast to the largely apolitical nature of the communities joined by emigrants in previous decades.
Putting their ideas into practice, some Hongkonger activists have continued their activism after leaving Hong Kong by founding organizations like Hong Kong Democracy Council and Stand With Hong Kong. These groups work to garner international support for the Hong Kong democratic movement and press the governments of their host countries to impose sanctions on Chinese and Hong Kong officials involved in human rights abuses. To amplify the voice of diasporic Hongkongers, a campaign, namely Vote for Hong Kong 2024, was launched in the UK, mobilizing the diasporic Hongkongers to participate in the 2024 UK General Election while encouraging parliamentary candidates to pledge their support for issues important to Hongkonger voters.
“The Vote for Hong Kong campaign is, of course, a good initiative,” Wong remarks, “but it should only be the beginning.” What should be the next step? He believes that Hongkongers should actively enter institutions and make their voices heard from within. “We should not be satisfied by begging other countries to support Hong Kong, we should be the ones who can offer support to those in need, including Hong Kong. For example, I think some Hongkongers should run in the next General Election and get into Westminster,” he explains. Wong also shares that he and a few of his friends are planning to join political parties in the UK.
It is indeed an ambitious plan, requiring significant personal commitment, and one that may not appeal to most diasporic Hongkongers. No matter what, it reveals the tendency of the Hongkonger diaspora to engage in their host countries’ political affairs, instead of following the route of their parents’ generation, which focused on personal livelihoods while maintaining a low profile in politics.
Fairly speaking, we should not be overly optimistic about the future of this newly formed diaspora, given the challenges it faces. While the cultural identity of Hongkongers remains loose compared to other ethnic groups with centuries of history – and given that many still identified as Chinese in the early 2000s – there is a prevailing concern about whether the second generation of diasporic Hongkongers, who will be born and raised overseas, will continue to identify as Hongkongers. Additionally, the efforts of the Chinese and Hong Kong governments to conduct transnational surveillance and harassment against diasporic Hongkongers have created a chilling effect, discouraging engagement in diasporic campaigns and events. These are all threats to the sustainability of the diaspora that cannot be ignored.
Nevertheless, Hongkongers are striving to find their way through, and are doing their utmost to assert their significance on the global stage. As Wong puts it, “The world shall one day realize that Hongkongers are indispensable allies to global democracy against authoritarian expansion.”
The interviewee decided to remain anonymous for security reasons; Wong is not their real name.
Cover photo: Protesters hold placards as they gather in the centre of Kingston upon Thames in south west London on January 9, 2022 to demonstrate against the ‘dramatic deterioration of press freedom’ in Hong Kong. The human chain protest is held to back journalists, media and the people in Hong Kong, who have suffered from political persecution following the imposition of a national security law in the city. (Photo by Tolga Akmen / AFP)
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