When you want to learn something new, the tendency for most is to research through the internet or books. Gathering facts and experiences to support the topic is the process we use as default. Especially with politics, having the cold, hard truth for every situation is desired (whether we get this is another story). And while this is appropriate for most situations – learning for a class, presenting to coworkers, teaching someone else, etc. – why do we automatically assume that non-fiction is the best and essentially only way to receive beneficial information?

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This idea has been something I’ve struggled with for basically my entire life. I have never been a skilled reader, but I was on par with others when we had books split into different reading levels by color in grade school. Since then, however, I have fallen behind with not only speed of reading, but also with comprehension. And yes, I know that the best writers usually love reading. They’re good at it – they learn big words and useful information – and they can do it efficiently. Perhaps it’s due to my five years at a university that assigns more than 400 printing pages of reading a semester or my inherent desire to avoid knowing what’s going on in the world around me, but I have a certain distaste for non-fiction. I do, however, enjoy reading fiction.

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That’s not to say that I don’t understand the benefits of straightforward information – I do. Trust me, I’ve written countless papers that wouldn’t have been possible without the genre holding my hand. But I’ve always wondered why these are the only resources we’re taught to use. That any class using fiction as a resource has to be a separate English class. Why is that?

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What do we not have to learn from it?

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Thus, when trying to digest the politics of my experience in Hong Kong, I researched as much information I could about it. I learned about the history and I read forums about the differing opinions regarding the Handover. I did what I needed to do to obtain information. But the more I thought about the whole thing and how I experienced the 20th anniversary, I recognized that there is so much more to the situation than just facts. There are emotions. There are people. There are things that you can’t gain from reading an article. While this may seem obvious, it’s easy to forget when the main goal is just to ingest information, not think about the consequences surrounding it.

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And that created a glaring need, in my eyes at least, for a way to

read about the situation in a more interesting way: fiction. Ability to

evoke emotion, perspective, and critical thought. What more could you

want for understanding a political situation that affects millions of people?

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Granted, there are faults of fiction. The opinion of the writer is usually present, and the interpretation is ultimately out of the author’s hands. A lot of times the author attempts to combat this by creating a general path for what the reader is supposed to gain (or lose) from the story, ultimately limiting the ability to derive a unique perspective. That begs the question – what type of fiction best serves to overcome these faults. Reading a story about two lovers from different countries that can’t be together can establish an emotional tie to the political issue if that’s what’s keeping them apart, but the story itself doesn’t allow the intellectual growth that is required to truly understand the complexities of the situation.

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So, while creating this narrative, a lot of time was dedicated to figuring out the best genre to capitalize on the benefits of writing fiction for a purpose. I wanted to focus on the prospect of the second Handover and what will happen after that point. Due to the nature of this, it falls under the umbrella of speculative literature: a broad literary genre encompassing any fiction with supernatural, fantastical, or futuristic elements.

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My first thought was to write this as a story that focused on themes such as technological advances, fantasy (such as dragons, since those are prominent in both Hong Kong and Chinese culture), time travel, etc. I wanted to bring in these aspects to emphasize the point that anything could happen. That the future possibilities are endless.

 

I focused a lot on the fantasy idea because of its place within Hong Kongese influences – Dragon’s Back is a famous hiking trail in Hong Kong, Dragons are a huge symbol in Chinese culture, and the dragon was a part of Hong Kong’s Coat of Arms under British rule. In this subgenre, however, the world has something added into that isn’t real. At first, this makes it seem as if the narrative would become more complicated as a result. What more can we add to this already chaotic world? But with this political topic, bringing in a fantastical object to explain the future would actually simplify the problem. It would provide a solution – either one that destroys the world or enhances it, but a solution nonetheless. It would give something to blame, to support, to objectify. By definition, fantasy is not rooted in plausibility. Whatever speculation occurs is not possible. And while this may be a fun way to explore the what will happen in 2047, it doesn’t provide the necessary dynamic of the topic. The whole point of using fiction as the output is to evoke emotion, perspective, and critical thought.

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Conversely, science fiction is rooted in things that are plausible. It dramatizes things that are already a part of life. It presents a version of a world you can see happening. And, most importantly, if done correctly, it makes you think. Hard. Not just about the topic it’s talking about, but about everything you’ve ever known about the world. It accounts for the complexities of the topic and leaves them up to interpretation.

And that’s exactly why I chose it.

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Specifically, a special niche within it: a focus on political and social structure in a world that can be considered a utopia or dystopia depending on the viewpoint of the reader. This set up allows the idea of perspective to play its part. The dystopia and utopia are both socially based, rather than event-based (i.e., an alien invasion), thus allowing a multitude of interpretations to take place. There is no right or wrong reading of the narrative, just like how there is no right or wrong opinion about the Handover and its politics.

 

For purposes of this project, the Hong Kong viewpoint represents dystopian fiction. While this does not represent my personal opinions, it contains many characteristics of typical dystopias.

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First, there needs to be a reason for why there is a dystopia. In most instances, the world is created as a result of war. In this case, Stan reveals to Kevin that there was a war prior to the Handover, in which those who remain were on the "right" side of the debate, pro-Republic. While there is neither a current war nor an inkling of one in the future, the circumstances for one to occur with this example was a perfect fit for the narrative. It also provides a landscape for reader interpretation.

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Take, for example, the 2002 movie “Hero,” a martial arts film centered around a nameless warrior that defeated the assassins after the King of Qin. This movie is famous not only in Asia, but also held #1 in the American box office for two weeks. From an outsider, and even Chinese, perspective, the movie is a tale of Jing Ke’s assassination attempt of the King in 227 B.C. The nameless warrior, at the end of movie, reveals himself as an assassin who had used his heroic defeats to get closer to the King to kill him. When his identity is revealed, the King urges the warrior that the unity of Qin is more important than personal revenge. Nevertheless, the people of Qin beg the King to make an example of him, since even the heroes must die if it is for the betterment of China. There is speculation, however, coming from other perspectives that the nameless warrior represents Taiwan – no matter what Taiwan does, it must always cease to China. And while there is no certainty that this is how the movie is meant to be perceived, it shows the importance of perspective. A critical element of any narrative, the interpretations enhance the messages attempting to be portrayed.

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Second, the standard of living is generally poorer than contemporary society. Kevin's social status is briefly commented on at the gala. While it is uncertain what he actually did prior to the Handover, his assignment is considered to be of higher quality, although his wardrobe and way of life don’t necessarily reflect that. Regardless, his position and those of other subjects are lower than those native to the Republic, limiting their standard of living.

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For example, in a short story, “The Folding of Beijing,” the world is divided into three layers, each folding onto itself at specific times of day. The purpose of this is to give the lower class a shorter time to experience life than those of higher wealth. The protagonist sets out on a mission to give a letter from a third-layer boy to his first-layer lover, literally climbing out of the city into the next fold. While this idea is difficult to perfectly visualize, it provides a landscape to see the lessons emphasized by the writer through this set-up. And while the message of money in this story ends up revolving around being grateful for what you have, the power of manipulating society’s standards has an immense effect.

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Third, the protagonist generally questions society and what it stands for. In typical dystopian stories, there is a group that is not under whatever rule of the land, but in this case, the only allies Kevin has to figure out who he is are the pictures on the wall. He doesn't question what is going on until he catches Stan in what he thinks is a lie.

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Fourth, dystopian stories generally extrapolate on current trends into the future. In this case, the economic uncertainty is emphasized, in which the way China will influence Hong Kong's economy in 2047 vice versa is a highly debated topic.

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On the other hand, the Chinese viewpoint represents a utopian fiction. From the Republic's perspective, the government is considered peaceful. As emphasized many times, the government’s goal is to provide a “better life” for those in the region. While this definition of better life is uncertain, there is a sense of equality for all and access to societal shortcomings such as employment.

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A prominent example of the usage of these promises in a utopia is “The Giver.” In this story, the world is rid of its hardships and only one person holds the memories of the past. Because of this, the society has no idea that there is a version of life that isn’t perfect or equal. And while this may be perfect for the government since it can control everything and everyone, it may not have reciprocal benefits for the citizens.

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Finally, the most important aspect of a utopia is the need for one. If the world wasn’t so bad to begin with, there wouldn’t be a reason to take such drastic measures. A classic example of this is the Hunger Games, a story in which the world is divided into 12 districts that annually battle each other to the death for a “balanced society.”

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So, what does this all mean?

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While all this analysis of genre is interesting, you may be wondering what my point is. Although I've provided insight into my personal purpose for exploring this topic, it may be difficult to see its importance to you. My first question to you is: have you ever thought about this? And this applies not only to the topic of Hong Kong and China, but also to the way in which politics are regularly presented. The speculation of what will happen in 2047 when China has the chance to exercise full control over Hong Kong is almost utterly pointless since we can't see into the future and likely are on the outside of the realm of who it affects. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't care about it, that we shouldn't pay attention to what is going on. In the grand scheme of things, most people don't know what is going on in the world. Hell, I'm guilty of that. And that's because the news is boring. The point here, then, is to think about news and politics in a way that works for you. What if this narrative were true? What would the world look like? Who would be affected? More importantly, what would that mean for society?

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​And alas, that brings us to the end. This story is confusing. Not only for the protagonist, but for the reader. I’m sorry for that, but this was intentional. It ends rather abruptly and without answers. The only thing that is revealed is that Kevin’s picture is on the wall. There are many conclusions that can be drawn from this, the most obvious that he was a Rebellion leader. But, what if he wasn’t? What if he was the hero and that’s why he has a special place in Mr. Ling’s office? This is up for reader interpretation. And regardless of whatever conclusion the reader derives, the important part is that the protagonist has an identity. Yes, he is Subject 247, the President’s assistant, and Kevin. But now he has a portrait of himself – a visualized past. He has a background. And even though his memory was wiped, he still has that past identity moving forward.

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I created this relationship because I feel that identity is a huge part of the political relationship between Hong Kong and China. When I first started this project, I described the situation as a “polarization.” When you think about it, however, it’s the exact opposite. The identity of Hong Kongese is a mixing pot of all different cultural and historical backgrounds. The influences of others on Hong Kong has been so immense that most struggle to define what it exactly means to be “Hong Kongese.” And over time it has gone from having no unique identity to this mass influence as being their identity. When you go to Hong Kong, you can literally see all the separate cultures that are there – and that mixture is Hong Kong’s patent. So, while Hong Kong is still its own region with China ruling from afar, the question arises for 2047 when the “second” Handover takes place – what will happen to Hong Kong’s identity?

Will it remain unique?

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Will it be morphed into accepting stronger Chinese influence than it already has?

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Will it be forced to remove all British attributes?

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Is this the end of their world? Their identity?

 

With all these questions, we are left with confusion. With uncertainty. And the fact of the matter is – we don’t know how it’ll play out until it does. So for now, we speculate. We listen. We allow the points of view to interact with each other and we learn about the situation.

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And we wait.