In 1969, my father’s death changed everything for me. It made me rethink the meaning of life, leading me to switch from studying architecture to philosophy. The second most important change related to death in my life was in 2019, with the death of Hong Kong, forcing me, a man approaching retirement at 70, to leave Hong Kong unexpectedly and become a self-exiled intellectual. This was something I could never have imagined,” reflected Professor Chang Chan-fai, former head of the Philosophy Department at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. This edition of “Drifting Legends” features an interview with Chang Chan-fai, delving into his views on life and death, and delving into his rarely discussed life story.
Born in 1949 during the post-war baby boom period in Hong Kong, Chang Chan-fai witnessed the city’s recovery from the ravages of war and its gradual resurgence under British rule. His mother gave birth to 10 children over a span of 14 years, with two of them tragically passing away. Chang, as the third child, experienced the loss of close family members at a young age. Little did he know that his future career path would be closely related to life education, devoting much of his life to the study of Eastern and Western philosophy on life and death.
Looking back on his childhood, Chang humorously referred to himself as a “street rascal,” with the market at Kwan Chung Street in Yau Ma Tei being his playground. He recalled living in an apartment shared with six families, without a private bathroom, having to go to the public baths near the market for basic hygiene needs. “We were all poor. We didn’t have special gifts or toys. We created our own toys and found them ourselves, with nobody watching over us. When it was time to eat, we would go home, but most of the time, we weren’t at home because the space was too small,” he said.
His father bore the sole responsibility of providing for the family, working as a shareholder in a teahouse in the city center. His mother, on the other hand, took care of household chores. The father worked tirelessly, leaving home early at 6 a.m. and returning late at 11 p.m., showcasing great dedication.
“In a poor family, a brick of fermented tofu was enough for a meal. We used to buy fermented tofu and tofu pudding at Liao Ma Kee. Whether sweet or salty, it didn’t matter. That was the memory of our generation,” Chang described. He recalled living upstairs from the market, where there was a paper shop nearby. His first job was helping bind condolence cards at the paper shop, earning some pocket money. Little did he know that this skill would come in handy many years later when he had to copy a lot of materials for binding into booklets during his studies in Germany, a skill he had acquired from binding condolence cards in his youth.
Among his siblings, Chang was considered the most academically inclined. He attended Queen Elizabeth School before being admitted to the University of Hong Kong. He didn’t consider himself exceptionally talented but attributed his success to hard work and the social environment of Hong Kong at the time. “Hong Kong was a free, open, and liberal society back then, especially after all the political turmoil in mainland China and Taiwan. We were given the freedom to develop ourselves, which provided our generation with the most opportunities. Success did not rely on family background but on our own efforts,” he remarked. Comparing today’s youth, he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, noting the challenges they face compared to the opportunities they had during his time.
Known for the “early responsibility of poor children,” Chang took on significant responsibilities early on. He worked part-time and taught at night school, giving extra lessons to students a few times a week to earn tuition fees for himself. He was the only university student in his family. Reflecting on the ’60s where he had to earn a living from a young age, Chang didn’t find it extremely challenging, rather he was nostalgic for a time when survival only required diligence, “In the ’60s and ’70s, as long as you were willing to do part-time work, it wasn’t difficult to make ends meet. University students at that time were not as abundant as today. I thought there were plenty of opportunities in Hong Kong back then, especially in the ’60s, where opportunities for development were abundant. It eventually became a unique miracle; Hong Kong’s success was built on the achievements of hardworking Hong Kongers.”
Retrospectively, 1969 marked a significant trauma during Chang’s youthful years. While he may not have fully grasped the notion of death during his childhood, this incident brought the reality of death much closer. At that time, just as he had been accepted into the architecture program at the University of Hong Kong, news came of his father’s tragic death in a minibus accident on a road prohibited for vehicles, leaving behind his family.
The sudden loss of his father, the family’s main provider with several siblings still in school and a full-time homemaker mother, left him questioning the whims of fate that saw his father depart without a word of explanation. During his youth, Chang grappled with profound questions about the meaning of life and the uncertainties of existence, seeking to interpret life, making philosophy the subject he longed to delve into. Hence, he decisively switched his major to study philosophy at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, which eventually became the focus of three-quarters of his life journey, from a student to a professor, his life deeply embedded in the realm of philosophy.
During the early days of the establishment of the Philosophy Department at the Chinese University, several renowned philosophers who were intellectuals fleeing from mainland China played a foundational role in shaping the department. Figures like Ch’en Mu, Tang Chun-yi, and Mou Zongsan, who were truly devoted to Chinese culture and opposed to Communist Marxist materialism, spread Confucian ideology within the free soil of Hong Kong, with New Asia College being initially established to nurture a generation of scholars who reflected on Asian and Chinese culture. Later on, Leung Siu-kwong joined Divinity Hall and became Chang Chan-fai’s mentor, these well-respected philosophers maintained the grace and dignity of traditional Chinese intellectuals critical in shaping his world view.
He reminisced, “Back then, we had a very close relationship with our teachers. I practically visited all of the teacher’s homes for meals. Our relationship with the teachers was excellent, allowing us absolute freedom to develop ourselves. We were free to express our opinions even if they differed from the teachers, and they accepted our viewpoints. That period was the happiest, most romantic, and the best time of my life!” He pointed out that only during that era did the teacher-student relationship foster such intimacy, contrasting the present where the relationship between teachers and students has become guarded, with teachers possibly being reported for what they say and students with independent thoughts facing potential risks, highlighting a departure from a normal relationship among individuals. He expressed gratitude for encountering teachers back then who served not merely as conduits of knowledge but who, from a humane and caring perspective, influenced students, fostering a generation of free-thinking individuals unafraid of authority, embodying true Hong Kong spirit.
Mentioning the Chinese University triggers a sensitive nerve for Chang, “I enrolled at the Chinese University in 1970 and apart from a few years studying in Germany and at the Baptist University, for the most part, I spent my entire life at the Chinese University. How can I not reminisce! In the past few decades, I’ve witnessed the gradual transformation of the Chinese University building by building. This place has been my abode throughout my life; how can I not miss it?”
Chang believed he would spend his retirement in the idealistic environment of the Chinese University, but as retirement approached, he was taken aback by the changes in the university and in Hong Kong. At this very moment, Chang Chan-fai reflects on witnessing the “death of Hong Kong,” faced with another heart-wrenching decision in his twilight years, researching the topic of death throughout his life.
During the 2019 “anti-extradition bill” protests, the Chinese University turned into a battleground, or as Chang put it, the “mountain city changed color.” The Chinese Communist Party’s influence extended onto the campus, shaking the school’s most precious principles established by anti-CCP intellectuals: the foundation of democracy and freedom of academic thought. Even in 2021, when the statue of the Goddess of Democracy was mysteriously removed in the dead of night, no teachers spoke out.
“Unattainable Chinese University” and “Unattainable Hong Kong” have become constant refrains for Chang Chan-fai in recent years, leading him to pen the book “The Vicissitudes of the Mountain City – The Unattainable Chinese University,” expressing his deep sorrow. He described himself as a “self-exiled intellectual,” compelled to leave Hong Kong in 2020 due to circumstances outside his control for the UK, a time when he believed the landscape and soul of Hong Kong had fundamentally changed. Whether staying in Hong Kong or leaving, he felt a sense of being in a “state of exile.”
In his 2022 publication “My City’s Life and Death,” Chang mentioned that “Hong Kong” has become a historical term and should now be pronounced in Mandarin as “Xianggang,” implying that the once vibrant Hong Kong is now on the path of becoming just another coastal city of China devoid of freedom and democracy. In his revised preface, he writes, “Xianggang now is: lies as truth/power as democracy/compliance as freedom/governance by the people as rule of law – like horses trotting and dancers dancing, entertainment symbolizing prosperity.”
In the past year and this year, he has been invited to be a visiting professor at Taiwan’s Tsinghua University and several other universities and institutions. He expressed joy in his life in Taiwan, where he has academic circles and friends, and where he sees it as a land of liberty. Here, he can voice his thoughts not only on academic subjects but also on how he interprets the cultural world and the challenges facing us in his life.
This year marks the tenth anniversary of the “Umbrella Movement,” and Chang Chan-fai has also published his latest work, “A Decade After the Umbrella: The Unfulfilled Dreams of Summer Koo Village,” which includes 79 black and white photos he took at the Occupy sites during the 2014 Umbrella Movement. Focused on the “utopia” of Summer Koo Village, it emphasizes the “world of love and peace” over the 79 days, which will be showcased at a photography exhibition in Taipei from September 14th to 30th. Through lectures, and various forms of exchange activities, overseas friends can learn more about what happened in Hong Kong and understand his reasons for “going into exile.”
Chang Chan-fai, now 75 years old, remains active and continues to prepare lectures and exhibitions. On the eve of the Mid-Autumn Festival, upon learning that The Epoch Times in Hong Kong, which stood for 23 years, will temporarily cease its printing operations locally, releasing its final physical edition on August 17 to transition to digital operation, Chang felt a mix of sorrow and indignation. In his statement, he wrote, “In Hong Kong in 2024, what physical newspapers are left to read? With coming of the National Security Law, press freedom and freedom of speech are gone; white terror envelops the entire society. The Epoch Times in Hong Kong has maintained until today despite the difficult times, which I consider a miracle. But eventually, they had to close. Bearing witness to the cancellation of Hong Kong’s last remaining news freedom, how can one not feel sorrow and anger?” He urged everyone not to give up, “However, leaving the autocratic rule of the Communist Party area, returning to the free open world, and continuing the mission as an independent media outlet is commendable and worth supporting! Don’t give up; defend freedom!”
– Drifting Legends Production Team