海角大神

Hong Kong

From the garden of the Chu family鈥檚 30th floor penthouse, Hong Kong鈥檚 jumble of skyscrapers rising against the harbor look like pixie sticks propped in the ground. To a visitor, the scale amazes, but to fifth-generation Hong Konger Winston Chu, it appalls.

And for one reason: The 鈥渇ragrant harbor鈥� 鈥� which is what Hong Kong means in Cantonese 鈥� is literally disappearing under cement.

Hemmed by dramatic mountains, the city has grown seaward, literally over the water鈥檚 edge through reclamation. Victoria Harbor has shrunk, its once-scalloped edges have been straightened into the city-street grid.

鈥淭he harbor used to be twice as wide as it is now,鈥� says Mr. Chu. The government has 鈥渂een reclaiming [it] bit by bit. There鈥檚 a Chinese term that translates to a 鈥榮ilkworm eating a leaf one bite at a time.鈥� But now it鈥檚 like a tiger. And that tiger is the government.鈥�

The view of the harbor from this patio of potted pansies and terra-cotta tiles used to be unobstructed. Fourteen years ago, Chu鈥檚 five-foot-tall mother, Cissy Fok Wing Yue, then 80, pulled him aside, pointed toward the reclamation across the harbor in western Kowloon, and accused her son of being at least partially responsible for her compromised view.

At the time, Chu, a lawyer, served as a senior member of the powerful Town Planning Board. So Ms. Yue assumed that harbor reclamation 鈥� and the destruction of her view 鈥� was his and his colleagues鈥� fault. As the mother of 12, she was accustomed to others鈥� claims on her space. But this 1.3-square-mile patch of new earth was too much.

鈥� 鈥榊ou Town Planning Board people are ruining our harbor!鈥� 鈥� Chu recalls her saying. He shakes his finger toward the reclamation like his mother did. 鈥淪he really gave me a good scolding.鈥�

He promised to look into it. After several weeks of research, Chu learned why he鈥檇 neither heard about nor participated in the reclamation-approval process: There was no law requiring the board to learn about or participate in it, no system of checks and balances.

And so, 14 years ago, Chu began a campaign to preserve what was left of Victoria Harbour.

鈥� 鈥� 鈥�

Enticed by the harbor鈥檚 natural depth and protection, the British dropped anchor off Hong Kong Island during the First Opium War and began setting up permanent shop in 1842, after the Chinese ceded the territory under the Treaty of Nanking. Soon, industrial-sized dreams started to flood the shoreline, and, in 1850, the first reclamation began. Developable land was scarce, after all, and more was needed.

Chu doesn鈥檛 quibble with the original reclamation. He takes issue with everything reclaimed since 1984, when the Chinese government in Beijing established the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (HKSAR), giving Hong Kong an additional 365 square miles called the New Territories, and increasing Hong Kong鈥檚 land almost 10-fold. Because of this vast amount of developable land, Chu argues, there鈥檚 no justification for carrying out the 3,000-plus acres of reclamation that the British proposed or committed to before it handed Hong Kong back to China in 1997.

Chu doesn鈥檛 exactly fit the profile of a bumper-sticker activist. His own involvement in development investment opens him up to some criticism. He鈥檚 chauffeured around town in his Mercedes Benz. He was among the powerbrokers responsible for one of Hong Kong鈥檚 major thoroughfares,and has owned tin mines in Malaysia and Thailand. In his spare time, he reads nuclear physics, plays snooker, and has written a book of poetry in English 鈥� a diversion the native-Chinese speaker developed at London鈥檚 University College, where he鈥檚 now a visiting professor.

But before Chu came along, there were no activists fighting for the harbor and few activists in Hong Kong. The population had grown accustomed to the dredging in the harbor 鈥� and Chinese culture discourages confrontations with power, as did the old colonial regime. Chu points to an old Chinese adage: 鈥淎 poor person should never oppose a rich man, and the rich will not fight against officials.鈥� Apathy, Chu says, is how most people here survive.

It wasn鈥檛 until the establishment of the People鈥檚 Republic of China in 1949 that Hong Kong saw a flood of refugees, bringing many intellectuals who were more inclined to contribute to public dialogue.

鈥淭he average person in Hong Kong is rather passive, as under British colonialism there had never been encouragement for such public debates,鈥� says former Harvard professor and cultural critic Leo Ou-Fan Lee. 鈥淢oreover, the general level of education in Hong Kong is not high 鈥� merely high school for the average person, who often feel they lack the intellectual sophistication that should be the expression of any resonance in a cosmopolitan city.鈥�
However, some locals have 鈥渁wakened,鈥� Mr. Lee adds. 鈥淪uddenly they feel that some of the traces of iconic sites are being erased, so they鈥檙e trying to preserve them. I think one of the reasons is what might be called collective memory.鈥�
鈥⑩赌⑩赌�
After Chu completed his initial legal research in 1995, he enlisted Christine Loh 鈥� who, like him, is Chinese and British-educated. At the time she was serving on Hong Kong鈥檚 legislative council. Together, Chu and Ms. Loh founded the Society for Harbor Protection, or SPH. Chu went on to draft a law, with the assistance of Loh鈥檚 legislative office, called the Protection of the Harbor Ordinance. It made the harbor a public asset and natural heritage of the Hong Kong people. Only in cases of 鈥渙verriding need,鈥� the bill read, could the government proceed with reclamation. It was approved 72 hours before the 1997 British handover back to China.

Historically, reclamation has been necessary for development, says Carrie Lam, the secretary of development, but after the current project, reclamation will cease.

Chu claims the government鈥檚 reclamations since 1984 have been solely for the sake of profits from selling the new land and that its promises 鈥渁re totally unreliable.鈥�

About a quarter of government revenue comes from selling land and other income from land development, according to the government鈥檚 annual yearbook.

In any case, Chu has staved off the reclamation of more than 1,300 acres. And even Ms. Lam, whom Chu calls the 鈥渆nemy,鈥� commends the SPH for taking the high road.

Asked if Chu鈥檚 campaign has been a hassle, Lam laughs: 鈥淚 can鈥檛 say it鈥檚 not. We鈥檙e running around answering questions, getting taken to court, but I accept this is part of public governance.鈥�

SPH has won two of the three high court cases it pressed and five lower court decisions.

So far, Chu has sunk more than $500,000 of his own money into the campaign, and, when his mother passed away in 2006, she left him a 鈥渕eaningful amount鈥� for the fight. All told, their contributions exceed $1.25 million.

Chu isn鈥檛 just 鈥渁 meticulous lawyer,鈥� says Loh, SPH cofounder, 鈥渉e鈥檚 a person of financial means, and he鈥檚 very dedicated to the issue. In Hong Kong, he鈥檚 the only person I know who has these characteristics and has gone on to become a campaigner.鈥�

Chu has made enough noise in Hong Kong that in October 2003, he, his wife, and his mother fled after he received a letter physically threatening them. The letter contained the make, model, and license numbers of his mother鈥檚 cars, where she attended the opera, the kind of jewelry she wore, and the name of her hair salon.

Now, back on the terrace, on chairs where Chu and his mother used to nap and where the family celebrated Chinese festivals, Chu lowers his voice. 鈥淟ook, Hong Kong cannot survive without the harbor 鈥� economically, environmentally, in giving people a better quality of life.

鈥淚 was raised a Buddhist. My father always told me that if you see a banana peel on the ground, you鈥檝e got to remove it ... it only takes a minute to do, but the old lady who might step on it could be crippled for life. To practice Buddhism is no more than that. You start with small things, and I suppose you end up with the harbor.鈥�