Chapter 17: Profound and Lasting Consequences

The Royal Visit in 1975 - the first by a reigning British monarch - coincided with the first influx of refugees from Vietnam, where the previous year American forces had abandoned their efforts to help withstand an unstoppable communist advance. The day the Queen and Prince Philip set foot on Hong Kong soil a Danish vessel, MV Clara Maersk, sailed into the harbour bearing 3,900 refugees picked up at sea from a small, overburdened and imperilled vessel, the Truong Xuam.

Conversing with veteran foreign correspondent Anthony Lawrence at a reception in Government House, Her Majesty expressed concern for the implications of this development and correctly surmised it could be the beginning of a much larger and ongoing exodus with profound and lasting consequences not only for Hong Kong but the world at large.

Though slow to materialise at first, the exodus gained rapid momentum by 1978, when a total of 3,356 were similarly rescued at sea and a further 2,441 arrived directly aboard their own small craft, many so laden with their human cargoes that they were barely seaworthy. These numbers did not include some 3,000 aboard the Panamanian freighter Huey Fong, which at year's end was still anchored just outside Hong Kong waters, denied permission to enter because she had originally been bound for Taiwan and only diverted after picking up her unscheduled passengers.

John Slimming had just taken over as DIS from Richard Lai Ming, a Mauritian Chinese who for the previous two and a half years, before he retired in June 1978, was the first local officer appointed to that post. Lai Ming had done much to advance the careers of promising local officers, but his directorate was still dominated by expatriate 'old timers'.

Slimming had pursued a colourful career as British Council representative in Burma, advisor on aboriginal affairs in Malaya and author of a number of successful novels, including The Pepper Garden, before arriving in Hong Kong in the aftermath of the 1967 disturbances. He was a man who took his work very seriously and whose particular talent was to anticipate the downside of almost every development.

One of his staff, invited by the Hong Kong Tourist Association to address a group of students about to depart for universities overseas as 'goodwill ambassadors', found that by chance the date of this address fell on June 30, 1977 - 20 years before the New Territories lease was due to expire. When he later reported to Slimming that he had settled for this topic, and invited what proved to be a lively discussion on the prospects of reversion to China, Slimming was greatly dismayed. It was not, he felt, a subject to which anyone should be drawing attention, leave alone a senior member of his own department.

For Slimming the implications of the rising refugee influx were nothing less than disastrous. He became obsessed with this particular issue to the point where, because he was unwilling to delegate responsibility, it began to take an appalling toll of his health.

An additional burden was his anxiety for his beloved wife Lucy, a Malaysian Chinese he had met while on a language course in Kuala Lumpur, and whom he had married from the home of David and Jane Akers-Jones, then stationed in Malaya prior to that country's independence in 1957. Yet in the end it was John who preceded Lucy's demise through his sudden death from a massive heart attack in 1979.

In his desk drawers were found copious notes of his observations on the manner in which the refugees had made their desperate voyages in hope of a better life, as though he had half toyed with the idea of using them for a future account of their remarkable odysseys.

The man who took over from Slimming, in an acting capacity until Bob Sun's return to the department as DIS on January 1, 1980, was Bernard Renouf Johnston, better known as 'Johnny'. Already thoroughly familiar with the refugees issue, Johnston organised special documentary films, booklets and information kits designed to highlight the burden posed for an already overcrowded territory that was not receiving the co-operation it needed from countries far better equipped to share the load. Though he often personally organised briefings and conducted tours of improvised refugee centres, Johnston also busied himself with other departmental priorities, including the importance he attached to recreational events organised by the staff club. For relaxation he embarked on weekend excursions to the New Territories and outlying islands with his wife Gwyneth, a noted authority on butterflies who succeeded in rearing lesser-known species in a special room assigned for the purpose in their government quarters in Mount Austin Road. Together they collaborated on a book on Hong Kong butterflies, published by ISD.

More intimately involved with refugee matters were David Roads, a veteran AP correspondent who had been based in Hong Kong almost throughout the post-war years, and Matthew Cheung, who was later to leave ISD and make his mark in the ranks of the administrative grade and is now the Commissioner for Labour. These two formed the nucleus of the Overseas Public Relations Section established in 1977 under the Public Relations Division. The most famous holder of the post, however, was undoubtedly Mark Pinkstone whose unfailing good humour, accessibility and helpfulness were recognised by his "clients" who awarded him a rare life membership of the Foreign Correspondents' Club.

Hong Kong was to carry the cross of its refugee centres for many years to come, constantly defending its policies and raising the issue in the world arena to focus attention on the unfairness of its struggle to cope, largely unassisted and with little sympathy for the dilemma it faced.

Not until June 1997, on the eve of Hong Kong's reversion to Chinese sovereignty, did the numbers of Vietnamese migrants in detention centres decline to the point where the government could afford to close the largest - and most contentious - at Whitehead. Inmates at this Sha Tin facility had frequently staged violent protests against efforts to repatriate them. Less than a year later, the last of the detention centres was closed bringing to a humane conclusion a saga that had dogged Hong Kong's development for more than two decades.