Author name: 胡思

Decades ago, the MTR Corporation in Hong Kong vigorously promoted the slogan: “Stand on the right, walk on the left, for the benefit of others and oneself.” This was an era focused on efficiency and order, and the message was simple yet powerful, achieving considerable success. Even today, many Hong Kong residents instinctively stand on the right side of escalators, leaving the left side for those in a hurry. This has become not merely a habit but an internalized public ethic.

Widening the perspective, this practice is not unique to Hong Kong. Japan, the UK, and several European cities have developed an unspoken agreement to “stand on one side, walk on the other.” Interestingly, Japan presents a contrast: in eastern cities like Tokyo and Osaka, people typically stand on the left and walk on the right, while in the Osaka and Kyoto areas, the opposite is true. London’s Underground has long displayed signs instructing passengers to “Stand on the right.” On the surface, this appears to be a globally accepted urban order, each city adjusting its own practices.

However, the problem is that this order may not be effective.

A widely cited turning point originated in London. In 2015, Transport for London (TfL) conducted a formal field test at Holborn station, a busy interchange between the Piccadilly Line and Central Line, particularly crowded during peak hours. TfL temporarily suspended the practice of “standing on the right, walking on the left” on one of the long escalators, instead instructing passengers to stand on both sides, with staff present to guide them.

The results were quite clear: the number of people passing through the escalator increased by about 30% per minute, the queue at the escalator entrance noticeably shortened, and platform congestion improved. TfL’s conclusion was straightforward—allowing passengers to stand on both sides in high-traffic environments is more efficient than leaving one side for walking. This was not a theoretical deduction but rather data from actual testing.

The reasoning is not difficult to understand. The number of people willing to walk on escalators is always a minority. Observations from various cities indicate that those who actually “walk” typically account for only 10% to 20% of passengers; the vast majority prefer to stand. The result is that one side, where people are standing, forms a long queue, while the walking side often remains empty, utilizing only half of the escalator’s designed capacity. During peak hours, this forces crowds to accumulate at the escalator entrance, exacerbating congestion on the pathways and platforms.

This reflection has also emerged in Japan in recent years. Railway operators in Tokyo, including Tokyo Metro and JR East, have begun to downplay or even remove instructions to “walk/stand” at some busy stations, instead encouraging passengers not to walk on escalators. In Osaka, there have been public calls to stop walking on escalators citing safety concerns.

Safety is another long-ignored cost. Escalators are not designed for walking; the height of the steps, speed, and synchronization with the handrail require a higher level of stability in one’s stride. Accident analyses in both the UK and Japan show that falls are more likely to occur on the walking side, particularly involving luggage, rushing, or looking down at mobile phones. When accidents happen, the escalator often needs to be shut down, affecting the entire flow of people rather than just a few seconds for individual passengers.

There is also a less obvious but equally real issue: wear and tear on machinery. The engineering assumption for escalators is that weight is evenly distributed across the steps. Long-term concentrated standing on one side leads to uneven stress on the steps, chains, and drive systems, accelerating wear and increasing maintenance frequency. What is purportedly convenient for a few actually raises the operational costs for the entire system.

If we genuinely consider efficiency and safety, the answer is clear: during busy periods, passengers should stand on both sides to ensure every step is fully utilized. Further, if passengers could alternate sides—standing one step left, one step right—this would increase stability and improve psychological comfort. This represents a rational use of limited space.

The issue is not whether the original promotion was well-intentioned, but whether we are willing to acknowledge that a once-successful practice may not always be correct. Cities change, traffic patterns evolve, and public order should be adjusted based on empirical evidence rather than maintained by memory and sentiment. The practice of standing on the right and walking on the left had its historical context; however, in today’s densely populated cities, it may have shifted from “benefiting others and oneself” to “harming both.”

A truly mature public culture does not rigidly adhere to habits but understands when it is necessary to let them go.

Many people are unaware that Hong Kong’s current birth certificates do not legally require infants to have a surname. The certificate contains only a ‘Name’ field, and there is no legal stipulation that this name must include a surname. In theory, a child could have only a given name without any family surname.

However, the reality is not so straightforward. Although the system does not explicitly state that a surname is mandatory, it implicitly assumes the existence of a surname, which is most often understood to be the father’s. As a result, some birth certificates display full names, with surnames and given names clearly delineated, while others contain only a given name without a clearly presented surname. Both scenarios are legally valid, yet they create confusion in practice: How should forms be filled out? How should passports be processed? How will overseas institutions interpret this?

This confusion is not coincidental; it reflects an institutional ambiguity. While the legal text deliberately downplays the importance of surnames, it nonetheless perpetuates traditional familial norms, implicitly endorsing the patrilineal path as the standard. The father’s surname becomes an unexamined option, while the mother’s surname or other choices often require justification and face social pressure. Although the law does not prohibit alternative surnames, it shifts the burden of deviating from the paternal surname onto families to navigate.

The issue is not whether one can forgo the father’s surname, but rather why the father’s surname is still treated as the default. As long as this assumption exists, choices will never be equitable.

Reform is not difficult. It simply requires the elimination of any default preference and mandates that parents jointly declare the surname, clearly informing society that a surname is an option, not an unwritten rule. A birth certificate should not be a source of confusion, nor should it surreptitiously endorse a particular family order.

True equality does not allow for exceptions; it eliminates the need for exceptions altogether.

In Hong Kong, the first thing buyers are often reminded of is not the duration of their mortgage, but rather the stack of “original contracts”. Lawyers solemnly advise clients to keep these documents safe, as losing them can lead to a complicated recovery process, making resale or refinancing difficult. Over time, the property title becomes not just a legal document but a family heirloom that must be carefully preserved.

In contrast, many Hong Kongers find it hard to believe that in the UK, after a transaction is completed, the lawyer typically hands over a thin printed document, just a few pages listing the property address, owner’s name, and basic rights information. There is no real “original” document, as anyone can purchase a copy of the land registry for just a few pounds. The pages in hand serve merely as a convenient record rather than the foundation of property ownership.

This stark contrast leads many Hong Kongers to mistakenly believe that the UK has no property titles. However, strictly speaking, the UK does have titles; it simply no longer requires a stack of documents to prove ownership. The real difference lies not in the quantity of documents but in the system itself.

Hong Kong employs a document registration system. The government is responsible for registering documents related to land, primarily determining the priority of registered documents without guaranteeing ownership itself. The validity of ownership depends on a complete and unblemished chain of documents. Thus, with each transaction, lawyers must meticulously trace back through earlier documents related to land grants, transfers, and mortgages to ensure there are no gaps or contradictions.

The consequences of this system are quite tangible in Hong Kong’s property market. Properties lacking complete original contracts, known as “no-title properties” or “copy-title properties”, do exist and are not merely theoretical issues. Banks tend to be more cautious when approving mortgages for these properties, sometimes even refusing to lend, which compresses the buyer pool to cash buyers and significantly reduces liquidity. As a result, these properties often require price discounts compared to similar units in the same area with complete contracts, with the extent of the discount varying by situation, but the impact is real.

Consequently, a uniquely local arrangement has emerged in Hong Kong: even if an owner has sufficient funds to pay the full price of a property upfront, they often deliberately take out a small mortgage just to have the bank safeguard the entire set of original contracts. The bank’s role is not merely to lend money but rather functions more like a systematic safe deposit box. This practice itself underscores the weight of documents within the system.

The UK, along with most developed economies today, operates under a property registration system. The state establishes legally binding land registries that clearly record who the owner is and the scope of their rights. Once registration is completed, the law directly acknowledges the registered result. Old documents may still exist but are primarily supplementary; even if individual old documents are not available, they typically do not undermine the registered ownership status.

It is important to note that not all land in the UK is fully registered; a small number of properties still belong to unregistered titles that rely on historical deeds to prove ownership. However, these cases are now rare, and the design of the system includes a crucial distinction: when selling or mortgaging, unregistered titles are usually legally required to complete registration first. In other words, document issues are absorbed and resolved during the transaction process rather than lingering in the market, becoming a common price-dampening label.

Globally, there are not many places that still rely heavily on document registration systems, and they are mostly concentrated in developing countries. India is often cited as an example, where many regions only register transaction documents rather than providing state guarantees for ownership, leading to widespread land disputes and a backlog of court cases. Similar situations exist in Pakistan and Bangladesh; in Africa, parts of Nigeria still experience a coexistence of documents, local customary law, and administrative approvals, resulting in insufficient clarity of ownership and frequent disputes. These areas continue to rely on document systems not due to their rigor but because of heavy historical burdens and high transformation costs.

In contrast, countries like the UK, Australia, Canada, and New Zealand completed their transition in the 20th century, with the state assuming responsibility for confirming ownership, significantly reducing transaction risks and costs. Documents still exist, but they are no longer the critical burden on owners.

Thus, the real question worth asking is not “why can property ownership information in the UK be obtained for just a few pounds,” but rather “why does Hong Kong still require that stack of original contracts?” The answer is not mysterious. Hong Kong is not without reform directions and has already legislated for a property registration system; the challenge lies in how to address the vast historical ownership issues and who will bear the risks during the transition process. The task is monumental, and lacking immediate political returns, the system has remained in a prolonged transitional state.

The weight of property titles often represents not security but rather a burden left by history.