In Imperial China, the royal physician was forbidden to touch the Emperor directly. A princeling would attach a long red thread to the Emperor's wrist, and the physician would grasp the thread, feeling the Emperor's pulse at a respectful distance. Governing Hong Kong after it reverts to Chinese sovereignty at midnight on June 30 will require the same exquisitely sensitive touch: an ability to understand Beijing from a distance, to sense what its leaders want and what they will tolerate.
Officially, the physician's red thread has been given to Tung Chee-hwa, a Hong Kong multimillionaire who lived for nine years in the U.S. and was handpicked by the communist bosses in Beijing to carry out their promise of a "high degree of autonomy" for the capitalist enclave. Looking over his shoulder, however, is an ardent spokesman for those who insist that Hong Kong can rule itself. Martin Lee stakes his claim to leadership on the voter's mandate to make Beijing live up to democratic law.
Tung Chee-hwa vs. Martin Lee. As Hong Kong moves into an uncharted future under Chinese rule, all eyes will be on these two men with clashing visions, each seeking to shape the destiny of the dynamic territory and, by extension, the new China emerging on the international stage. Tung, an unassuming tycoon who is widely known to Westerners as C.H., has the credentials to reassure both investors and Beijing that the transition will be smooth and that Hong Kong will continue to prosper. Lee, the well-born and high-powered barrister, is speaking for those who fear China will strip away the political liberties Hong Kong has just begun to enjoy and destroy the rule of law on which its reputation as an international business center depends. Both say they want the same thing: a Hong Kong free to maintain its present way of life. But Tung's approach is to build bridges to Beijing to achieve a working relationship. Lee's is to build a wall in order to achieve complete autonomy. So which one really speaks for Hong Kong? And who will do a better job guiding the fortunes of this wealthy colony and its 6.4 million anxious residents?
For most of the 13 years since Britain agreed to return Hong Kong to Chinese control, a majority of the citizens stayed on the sidelines. Only after Beijing crushed the pro-democracy movement in 1989 did Hong Kong's ordinary folk begin to demand an active role. Without China's approval, British Governor Chris Patten altered a century and a half of colonial tradition by introducing a package of political reforms to make the local legislature more democratic. Enter Martin Lee, whose eloquent outrage over Tiananmen earned his Democratic Party and its allies 17 of the chamber's 20 directly elected seats in 1995 and authority today that flows from that mandate.
Beijing immediately declared the new legislature illegal and vowed to abolish it the moment China resumes sovereignty. Enter C.H. Tung. The territory's first homegrown leader was chosen by a 400-member selection committee that was itself picked by Beijing. The quietly effective power broker seemed uniquely qualified to bridge the gap between Hong Kong's promised autonomy and the new landlord's demand for control. For a time, Tung seemed to manage the delicate balancing act. He paid fealty to the "Chinese values" revered by his patrons even as he voiced confidence he could maintain Hong Kong's Western-style ways.