tim's experiment

The Chief Executive scene has taken a curious turn, and a rather embarassing one for those of us who firmly kicked Henry Tang into touch because of his illegal structure problems. It seems something strange was going on. Somewhere in the bowels of the Central Government Liaison Office is a little man who really chooses our Chief Executive, and he imposes some odd requirements. To be a serious candidate you must be a rich prat living in at least two houses in one of the most expensive areas of Hong Kong, said houses to feature a large collection of illegal structures. Both the serious candidates met these requirements. What are the odds against this sort of coincidence happening by chance?

I do not blame Mr Leung for moving into his house without checking the legality of various adornments. When one buys a house one tends, as I did, to assume that what is there is legal, or at least tolerated. Indeed I imagine a lot of minor embellishments of the kind which Mr Leung is now hastily removing probably are tolerated. Illegal additions to high-rise buildings are a safety hazard. Subdivided flats are firetraps. Small amendments to low-rise detached houses are only going to fall onto the owner, which could be considered poetic justice. In any case I expect someone who has shelled out millions of dollars for a house on the Peak is not going to skimp on the structural safety of his vine trellis, illegal though it may be.  Of course you can say that when unauthorised building works became an election issue it would have been prudent of Mr Leung to check his plans before pronouncing himself legal.

What bothers me is not the additional structures but the revelation that Mr Leung lives in two houses which set him back a combined $66 million. Mr Leung habitually describes himself as a “surveyor”. I realise that surveyors come in a variety of shapes and sizes hut it has not hitherto been regarded as a profession which produces large numbers of millionaires. I suppose “real estate speculator” doesn’t have quite the right political tang to it and “company director” is a bit vague. But it doesn’t really matter too much now. We can all see that Mr Leung’s very praiseworthy sympathy for the poor and oppressed is not based on recent personal experience.

This is a serious deficiency shared by many of our political appointees. I am tempted to suggest that all potential Secretaries should be exiled to Tin Shui Wai for a week with $1000 in cash and no plastic, there to live in a public housing flat and to be required to travel by public transport to and from the new Central Government Offices every day. Then they will make an interesting discovery. Being rich feels like hard work, but it is not nearly as hard work as being poor.

This brings me to the interesting case of Mr David Li, who has decided (according to some sources it was decided for him) to give up his post as the functionally elected representative of Hong Kong banks in Legco. Mr Li announced his retirement with the interesting further comment that looking back on his 20-odd years in politics it had all been “a waste of time”. Of course the short answer to this is that, as Tom Lehrer put it, life is like a sewer: what you get out of it depends on what you put into it. Mr Li did not put much into politics. For many years he was the member of Legco with the worst attendance record. When he was present he often left early. He eventually lost the title, not because he became more energetic, but because Timothy Fok is even worse.

Having said that, Mr Li has a point. People in legislatures everywhere struggle to make sense of the way in which they spend much of their time. Many speeches are made for the benefit of an outside audience. They are of no interest to anybody in the chamber, sometimes including the speaker himself. Much of the “action” is either meaningless or ineffective. The government wants tame votes, not trouble. If you are not supernaturally loyal then office is out of the question. The choice is between self-emasculation and obscurity. There are solutions to this problem for people who went into politics because they wanted to make a difference. Unfortunately Legco has far too many members who just want free parking in Central and something nice to put on their business card. Even turning up seem to be too much for them these days. Members were tired, we were told after the latest quorum catastrophe. They had been working five days a week for a change, like the rest of us.

Anyway for members who wish to avoid Mr Li’s ennui and disillusionment, the solution goes like this. First, if you are elected by a contituency, hold surgeries. I suppose if you are representing the city’s bankers these will be rather upmarket affairs called something else, but the principle is the same. Your constituents have problems. They will not bring them to you unless you reach out to them. I used to assist in a minor clerical way at a surgery of this kind. Many of the cases were very interesting. You will need to develop some expertise in where people can get help and which government department does what. This is educational and will help you to ask Legco questions without looking stupid.

Second, find an issue which needs a voice in Legco. Avoid topics which are routine bones of contention between the parties. Find something worthy, neglected and non-political like special education, animal welfare, the plight of cage-dwellers or the way the arts are taught – or not taught – in local schools. Then become an expert. Read the reports and the books, if any. Talk to the people. Talk to the academics. Talk to the officials (yawn). Get in touch with the NGOs and go to some of their events. Then you will find you have something to say to your fellow members. Some of them may even find it interesting. This will of course keep you quite busy, but the choice is yours. You can try to make yourself useful or do nothing for 20 years and then complain that you were wasting your time.