Path: bloom-picayune.mit.edu!snorkelwacker.mit.edu!americast.com!americast.com!americast-post Newsgroups: americast.twt.news From: americast-post@AmeriCast.Com Organization: American Cybercasting Approved: americast-post@AmeriCast.com Subject: Patten pulls democracy caper in colony Date: Sun, 15 Nov 92 16:56:27 EST Message-ID: \SE A;WORLD \SS (WS) \HD Patten pulls democracy caper in colony \BY Jan Wong \CR TORONTO GLOBE AND MAIL \DT HONG KONG HONG KONG - When Hong Kong Gov. Christopher Patten decided to renovate the foyer of his official residence, he followed tradition and hired a feng shui master. The expert, whose interior-decorating advice is prized by those afraid to offend the gods, recommended waiting until April. The new governor readily agreed - but not because he is a devotee of Chinese culture. "I'm not a Sinologist," said Mr. Patten, 48. "It happens to be happily the next financial year - and the first time my wife and I will be away for a couple of weeks." Mr. Patten is applying a new pragmatism to the job of handing over this bastion of capitalism to the world's last major communist power in 1997. His ability to use, not be used by, tradition and his confrontational style with China are raising blood pressures in Beijing and winning kudos in Hong Kong. He also just might change history. Mr. Patten angered China last month by proposing that a majority of the Hong Kong legislature in 1995 be democratically elected. After years of Hong Kong's kowtowing to China, Mr. Patten thus became the first British governor to stand up to Beijing. In calling their bluff, he has discovered that Chinese Communism is, to borrow a phrase from Chairman Mao, a paper tiger. Hong Kong's hypersensitive stock market, the best barometer of public opinion, plunged for a couple of days last month, then shrugged off the spat. "People think, 'Ah, good time to buy,' " said Vincent Cheng, senior economist at the Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corp. To be sure, the war of words is just the first round. Mr. Patten could blink first. And China, of course, has the last word, historically speaking. Should he fail, morale and investor confidence in the British colony will plummet. For China, it might mean losing its last chance at democracy. But Mr. Patten is used to adversity. As the former chairman of Britain's Conservative Party, he was defeated last spring even as his party won a stunning victory. Earlier, as parliamentary undersecretary in Northern Ireland, he was twice named on Irish Republican Army death lists. As a colonial governor, Mr. Patten has the powers of a dictator. With enough nerve, he can ram through democratic reforms, despite opposition from Hong Kong's pro-Beijing tycoons or the timid, mostly appointed Legislative Council. "The guy does not need votes," said Jimmy Lai, an apparel millionaire who manufactures 85 percent of his sportswear in China. "When a politician doesn't need votes, he can do what he wants." Time is on his side. Many of Beijing's aging hard-liners may be dead by 1997, the year Hong Kong reverts to China. Mr. Patten also is gambling that Beijing will not dismantle what he has done. To do so would only backfire. Nearly every province has business interests in Hong Kong, China's largest source of direct foreign investment. Many mainland officials keep secret hard-currency accounts here, and a number of China's ruling elite have children in lucrative positions in Hong Kong. "They can send in troops, switch off the water or stop the food," said Martin Lee, a pro-democracy lawyer who was elected to the Legislative Council last year. "But it would affect their own prosperity." Mr. Lai, the apparel millionaire, agreed. "If you rock the boat in Hong Kong, you reduce the credibility of the economic opening in China. Patten understands that the Chinese are at Hong Kong's mercy, not the other way around." With a politician's cunning, Mr. Patten has figured out that if he does nothing, China gets what it wants. If he expands democracy, the worst Beijing can do is roll it back. But if his gamble pays off, Hong Kong could be a Trojan horse, sneaking democracy into China. Last month Mr. Patten announced he would enfranchise virtually everyone with a job. Even though the plan fell short of full democracy, leaving intact many appointed positions, the reaction from Beijing was apoplectic. Hong Kong's pro-China media blasted Mr. Patten as a self-appointed "god of democracy." Beijing vowed to oppose any new airport. And China's foreign minister refused to shake the governor's hand. "I am about as confrontational as a digestive biscuit," Mr. Patten said. "However, I'm not easy to push around." He reminded Beijing that Hong Kong's huge reserves were the "richest dowry since Cleopatra." He declared that the airport would be built anyway. And he dismissed the cacophony of insults as "background music." Hong Kong's tycoons, who are afraid of hurting their mainland investments, sided with Beijing. T.S. Lo, a millionaire who recently launched Window, a pro-Beijing magazine he distributes free to middle-class households, says Hong Kongers are not ready for democracy. "We are children as far as political awareness is concerned," he said. But Hong Kong's normally apathetic citizens backed Mr. Patten. Last week a local newspaper poll put his approval rating at 62 percent. And Beijing's blasts have neutralized some of the colonial government's fiercest critics, including Mr. Lee, the elected legislator, who once thundered that "the sun will set in shame on June 30, 1997, over the way the British sold us down the river." The turning point was Prime Minister John Major's China trip in late 1991. While the rest of the world shunned China for the 1989 crackdown, Mr. Major was advised by Sir David Wilson, then governor of Hong Kong, to seek Beijing's blessing for a new airport for Hong Kong. The British press crucified Mr. Major for the trip. With the images of Tiananmen Square still fresh, the idea of handing over 6 million people to Beijing, nearly half of whom were refugees from communism in the first place, evoked widespread revulsion. "Major was fed up with all the bad publicity he was getting," said Emily Lau, an elected legislator. "So he dismissed Wilson unceremoniously on New Year's Eve." Mr. Wilson, a career diplomat, was steeped in Chinese language and culture. On the advice of a feng shui expert, Wilson even planted a willow tree on his front lawn to deflect bad luck from the angular new Bank of China skyscraper, which looked like a sword blade aimed at the official residence. While Mr. Wilson knew Chinese history, Mr. Patten has a keen sense of his place in history. In an interview, Mr. Patten mused about his own motives. "This is the last substantial chapter in my country's colonial history and it's important to write it honorably," he said. "It's not like the other chapters. We're not talking about bringing a dependent territory to independence." After Mr. Patten lost his parliamentary seat in Bath, a grateful Mr. Major offered him a range of consolation prizes: a Cabinet post, a by-election in a safe district, a seat in the House of Lords or the governorship of Hong Kong. Mr. Patten chose the last, but not just for the $300,000 tax-free annual salary, more than twice that of Mr. Major. Or the opulent mansion with 56 servants. Or the yacht or the his-and-her Daimlers or the vintage Rolls Royce, which has a crown for a license plate. Mr. Patten, an avid reader of history and biographies, saw a chance to make a difference. "It matters enormously that kids in Hong Kong see a future in Hong Kong, rather than in Canada and Australia," Mr. Patten said. "The harder the pounding here, the more important and interesting I think this job is." Distributed by Scripps Howard. This article is copyright 1992 The Washington Times. Redistribution to other sites is not permitted except by arrangement with American Cybercasting Corporation. For more information, send-email to usa@AmeriCast.COM