Author name: 胡思

The term “the empire on which the sun never sets” is not merely rhetorical; it is a historical fact. At its peak in the early 20th century, the British Empire governed approximately 24% of the world’s land area and accounted for about 23% of the global population, making it the largest empire in human history. The operation of the empire was quite straightforward: it integrated people scattered across the globe into a single political system through a set of legal identities. The history of British identity for Hongkongers is a microcosm of how the colonial power gradually withdrew its responsibilities as the empire receded.

Before the emergence of modern nationality systems, there was no concept of “nationality” as we understand it today within the empire. From the 19th century to the early 20th century, the basic legal status was that of a British subject, centered on loyalty to the Crown rather than residence or immigration rights. The post-war British Nationality Act of 1948 institutionalized this imperial subject relationship, creating Citizens of the United Kingdom and Colonies (CUKC). Within this framework, Hongkongers and British residents were nominally part of the same nationality; at least at the outset, there was no deliberate distinction between the rights of “home” and “colonial” subjects.

The real turning point occurred in the 1960s. With an increase in immigration from colonies and the Commonwealth, domestic political pressure in the UK surged. The government did not outright deny imperial nationality but chose to gradually sever the link between “nationality” and “right of abode” through immigration law. The Commonwealth Immigrants Act of 1962 was the first to impose work and entry restrictions on Commonwealth and colonial citizens; the Commonwealth Immigrants Act of 1968 further established birth or blood ties to the UK as substantive thresholds; finally, the Immigration Act of 1971 formally introduced the concept of right of abode, restricting it to a very small number of individuals with “close ties to the UK.”

These three pieces of legislation collectively achieved a critical severance. While the identity of CUKC still existed, it no longer came with the right to settle in the UK for the majority of colonial residents. Hongkongers did not suddenly lose their right of abode on a specific day; rather, they were gradually excluded at three key junctures: 1962, 1968, and 1971.

The British Nationality Act of 1981 provided a systematic summary of this reality. It was not a repair but a rewrite, formally ending CUKC and establishing a tiered nationality structure, the core principle of which was to concentrate the right of abode within the narrowest category of British citizens. The six types of British nationality recognized under British law thereafter were gradually organized and supplemented within this framework, including the later-established British National (Overseas) (BN(O)) specifically for Hongkongers.

Under this system, the most complete identity is that of a British citizen, which generally comes with the right of abode. The other five types are historical remnants or transitional identities, including British Overseas Territories Citizen (BOTC), British Overseas Citizen (BOC), British subject, British National (Overseas) (BN(O)), and British protected person. All six belong to the British nationality system, but there are significant differences in rights; most of the latter do not automatically confer the right of abode.

The British Nationality Act of 1981 established British Dependent Territories Citizen (BDTC) as a new status for colonial residents. Subsequently, BDTC was renamed British Overseas Territories Citizen (BOTC) in line with the political and legal terminology adjustment as colonies were referred to as “overseas territories.” Today, BOTC primarily consists of residents from overseas territories still under British sovereignty, such as Gibraltar, Bermuda, the Cayman Islands, and the British Virgin Islands. After 2002, the UK allowed most BOTCs to also become British citizens, so many overseas territory residents today effectively hold the right of abode.

British Overseas Citizen (BOC) represents a “residual status” in the decolonization process. These individuals were often originally CUKC but, after 1981, neither belonged to the UK nor any overseas territory, such as certain East African Asian communities. Legally, they still hold British nationality, but in practice, they have no place to settle. As for British subject and British protected person, only a very small number remain today, mostly remnants of early imperial arrangements, with almost no new additions, resembling historical traces that have not been fully cleared from the legal framework.

The transition of Hongkongers’ identity falls precisely within this tiered system. After 1981, Hong Kong residents automatically became BDTC from their original CUKC status. With the arrangements for the transfer of sovereignty confirmed, the UK established a specific export applicable only to Hong Kong: BN(O), or British National (Overseas). Through registration, eligible Hong Kong BDTCs could obtain BN(O) status. The two could coexist before 1997; however, with the transfer of sovereignty, the BDTC status linked to Hong Kong was terminated in 1997, while those who had registered retained their BN(O) status. Some individuals who might have become stateless were converted to BOC to avoid a legal vacuum.

Beyond this main narrative, the UK also made a one-time limited exception. The British Nationality (Hong Kong) Act of 1990 established a so-called right of abode scheme, capped at 50,000 individuals, including their spouses and minor children, affecting approximately 220,000 people in total. This was not a universal arrangement but a highly selective political solution. The selected individuals primarily came from the government, disciplined forces, professional sectors, and those deemed to hold “key positions,” aimed at stabilizing the administrative and economic systems before 1997. In these families, the first generation directly obtained British citizenship, and their spouses and minor children could register together; subsequent generations born later depended on whether their parents’ status could be inherited; otherwise, they would still need to follow normal residency, settlement, and naturalization procedures.

For the vast majority of Hongkongers, the real turning point came in 2021. The introduction of the BN(O) visa clarified the system for the first time: BN(O) is no longer merely “passport holders without residency rights” but a pathway to gradually obtain permanent residency and British citizenship through a period of residence and compliance with the law. This is not a return of old imperial rights but a clear, accumulative, and achievable transition pathway under a modern immigration system.

When viewed together, the logic is remarkably consistent. The UK first incorporated people through imperial nationality, then gradually withdrew the right of abode through immigration law; by the British Nationality Act of 1981, the tiered outcome was solidified; for Hong Kong, it transitioned first through BDTC and then BN(O), with the right of abode scheme serving as an exception only in very limited circumstances; it was not until 2021 that the BN(O) visa provided a systematic pathway for a portion of individuals to regain residency rights and citizenship. This is not an emotional story but a calm and clear institutional history.

Sitting down for dim sum and rinsing bowls before ordering is almost a reflex for Hongkongers. However, the question is straightforward: Are the utensils served to customers clean before they arrive at the table? If the answer requires customers to intervene, is this a cultural practice or a concession to basic standards?

From a scientific perspective, the hot water in tea houses typically reaches only 60 to 70 degrees Celsius, far below the temperature required for effective disinfection. At best, it removes surface stains but has little effect on bacteria. The action provides psychological comfort rather than genuine hygiene assurance.

The issue lies not on the table but in the kitchen. The safety of utensils is determined by the washing, disinfection, and storage processes, not by the final rinse performed by customers. When the assumption that ‘customers will wash their own utensils’ becomes the norm, restaurants are naturally incentivized to cut corners in their back-end processes: disinfection times can be shortened, and standards can be lowered, because the final sense of security has been outsourced to the diners.

The result is a lowering of overall standards. Ironically, those who insist that ‘clean utensils are the restaurant’s responsibility’ are the ones who suffer the most. Their refusal to rinse is not due to laziness but based on a reasonable premise: they are paying for food and drink, not to act as cleaners. Yet in a system that tacitly assumes customers will self-rescue, this insistence becomes a risk.

In fact, if one discovers that the utensils are unclean, the correct response is not to quietly rinse them but to demand an immediate replacement from the staff, escalate the issue to a manager if necessary, or even file a complaint with health authorities or relevant departments. Only by returning the issue to the institutional level and demanding that restaurants fulfill their responsibilities can standards be corrected. Otherwise, every instance of ‘let it go’ self-remedy only endorses negligence.

Thus, a responsibility that should be borne by professional institutions has quietly shifted to individual choice. This is neither mutual assistance nor virtue, but a misallocation of responsibility. In other cities, utensils must be ready for immediate use upon serving, and customers should not have to intervene; efficiency issues should be resolved through equipment and processes, not by assuming customers will fill the gaps.

When a habit that has little practical effect is taken for granted by the entire industry, it ceases to be a culture and becomes a bad habit.

The initial proposal of the system sparked intense social reactions.

Within three months of the announcement, multiple cities witnessed protests and conflicts. The core demand of the protesters was straightforward: any arrangement requiring citizens to relinquish political rights should not be packaged as a voluntary option. Some demonstrations escalated into riots, leading to multiple parliamentary suspensions and a surge in constitutional court applications for judicial review of the law’s constitutionality.

The government did not retract the proposal.

Six months later, the constitutional amendment was passed. The language of the provisions was brief and neutral, avoiding any value judgments, and merely establishing institutional definitions and boundaries.

The term ‘productive population’ refers to citizens who continue to participate in the labor market, bear economic risks, and fully exercise their political rights.

The term ‘stable population’ refers to citizens who voluntarily exit the labor market, accept basic living guarantees, and voluntarily refrain from participating in political decision-making.

The provisions also clearly stated that individuals could freely switch between the two identities.

Any citizen may voluntarily become a stable population;

Any stable population may also choose to return at any time to become a productive population;

Any choice shall not constitute a penalty or punishment.

The final clause, which sparked the most controversy, stated:

This system is a concrete practice of democratic centralism, ensuring the stability and continuity of political decision-making.

After the constitutional amendment was passed, protests gradually subsided. The reasons were not officially recorded.

In the second year of implementation, Zhao Mingxiu entered the identity transition explanation department.

From the outset, his responsibilities did not include review or discretion. He did not judge who was suitable to become a stable population nor assess who should return. His sole task was to read the terms in full before the identity transition occurred and confirm the other party’s understanding.

Understanding does not equate to agreement.

Therefore, there were no tests, no scores, and no psychological evaluations in the process. Only one fixed question was asked.

‘Do you understand that this is your own choice?’

If the applicant answered ‘yes’, the process would continue.

For seven years, Zhao Mingxiu read the same set of words over ten thousand times.

‘Upon becoming a stable population, you will receive a basic housing unit.’

‘The housing is for use only, not transferable, and does not count as personal assets.’

‘You will receive a fixed living allowance sufficient to cover daily meals, public transport, and basic entertainment.’

‘You will have complete medical coverage without additional premiums.’

‘You will receive an annual allowance for clothing and durable goods updates.’

At this point, most people would nod in agreement.

He would then continue.

‘At the same time, you will no longer be classified as part of the productive population.’

‘You will not participate in elections, be elected, engage in referendums, or any policy consultations.’

‘You may still choose to return at any time to become a productive population.’

Almost every time, someone would pause here.

‘What happens after I return?’ the applicant would ask.

Zhao Mingxiu would switch screens and read another set of terms.

‘Once you return, your identity as a stable population will terminate immediately.’

‘The basic housing usage rights will end within thirty days.’

‘The living allowance will cease.’

‘You will be reintegrated into the labor market and general social security regulations.’

Some would ask more specific questions.

‘Do I have to find a new job?’

‘What if I can’t find one?’

‘How does healthcare work?’

He would answer each question in a neutral tone, without emphasis.

‘You will need to regularly submit job search records.’

‘If you do not meet the minimum job search requirements, social assistance may be suspended.’

‘Healthcare will revert to the general insurance system, and you will need to bear some costs during unemployment.’

These explanations were not warnings, merely procedures.

Applicants would typically fall silent for a moment.

‘So returning does not mean going back to my original life?’ someone would ask.

‘No,’ Zhao Mingxiu replied, ‘it means starting to compete again.’

Most people would nod, indicating their understanding, and then choose to become part of the stable population.

In the early stages of the system’s operation, some individuals did indeed return. The proportion was low, but sufficient to form a sample. Data indicated that among those who chose to return, over 70% reapplied to become stable population within three months. The most frequently cited reasons in the comments were: uncertainty, fatigue, and high costs.

By the sixth year, the return rate stabilized at below 1%.

This was not due to difficulty. All return processes could be completed online, requiring no justification or review. It was simply that most individuals chose to close the page after reading the terms.

The proportion of stable population continued to rise.

The proportion of productive population declined.

The social conflict index decreased.

Economic fluctuations became more stable.

Voter turnout increased.

Policy documents described this phenomenon as a mature stage of democratic centralism. The population participating in politics decreased, but the risk and responsibility represented by each vote simultaneously increased.

In the seventh year, the administrative unit issued a brief announcement.

In light of the fact that the system has been fully understood by society, the identity transition explanation process will be fully online, with no on-site personnel for explanations.

The announcement did not provide a reason.

Internal data showed that the reading completion rate for the transition terms was nearing 100%. Most users could accurately recite the content without prompting.

When Zhao Mingxiu received the notification, he was not surprised.

His position was not marked for elimination but rather as ‘completion of phase tasks.’

The system displayed new options for him.

You currently belong to the productive population.

You may continue to participate in labor and political decision-making.

Or voluntarily transition to stable population.

The interface was identical to the one he had shown to others for many years.

That day, he sat alone in the explanation room for the last time. The standard terms still displayed on the wall. These sentences no longer needed to be read aloud. The entire society could recite them.

The next day, he logged into the system.

The online transition interface had no explanations, only two options left.

Become a stable population

Or

Remain a productive population

He clicked on ‘return explanation.’

The screen displayed:

You have not yet transitioned, no need to return.

He returned to the main screen and chose ‘Become a stable population.’

The system did not require him to confirm understanding again, nor did it ask him to reread the terms.

The screen displayed only one line of text.

Transition complete.

The new address and benefit effective date were updated immediately. The political rights status was displayed as ‘not activated.’

He closed the system and left the building.

The streets were quiet. Election campaigns were still ongoing, but there was no longer a need to explain to everyone.

Democracy still existed.

It had simply become a professional activity.

And Zhao Mingxiu, like most people, chose not to participate after fully understanding all of this.