It doesn’t take long before newcomers to Hong Kong notice that, even before the pandemic, there are more people here who carry with them hand sanitizers, often in a little bottle dangling off their backpack. A probe would soon reveal that this is believed to be part of the legacy from the SARS outbreak in 2003. Such a moment of revelation keeps reminding me how traumatic memories from the past can reverberate through society and materialize in small ways. 

Over three months, the SARS epidemic claimed 299 lives among the 1,755 patients in Hong Kong. In comparison, the ongoing COVID-19 has been less deadly, with 203 fatalities, but its endurance and its global scale will make its effects far more lasting. 

It has been a year since the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic. Despite its prompt response when a “pneumonia-like disease” was first detected in Central China, Hong Kong has yet to find a mechanism to bring the pandemic under enough control to warrant looser travel restrictions and thereby restart the economy. Meanwhile, many changes induced or precipitated by the coronavirus have taken hold. As hot topics early in the outbreak phased out of public discourse and became just another fact of life, it makes sense to examine them and remold them while we plan for the post-pandemic future.

When Hong Kong first sealed off its borders in February 2020, optimism still carried the day. People believed the exigencies would be short-lived. The government extended the ban every month, apparently without a longer-term strategy in mind. When government efforts fizzled out to create a “health code” system that allows easy cross-border travel within the Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macao Greater Bay Area, columnists made scathing remarks against the officials whom they accused of prioritizing their job over what’s best for the people. 

A columnist at the think tank Academia offered his assessment of the rationale behind the failure: “A sputtering economy is within public expectations, so officials don’t worry about getting blamed for any downturns. When pandemic control is the order of the day, the government can claim the moral high ground and appeal for public tolerance toward everyday inconveniences (caused by the anti-COVID measures). The strains on people’s daily routine don’t reflect badly on the officials. But if the number of infections spikes, they risk losing their job or facing fierce criticisms. So their real concern is their political career. The impact on people’s day-to-day lives and the struggle of businesses do not make it into their priority list.” 

The writer went on to question what such a failure meant to the Bay Area’s development: “What are the chances for a Bay Area city cluster that can’t even agree among themselves to launch a health code?” 

Though infused with strong feelings that bordered on a rant, the article raised serious questions, which remain unanswered to this day. 

Apart from central government endorsement, the Bay Area doesn’t have much to recommend itself as an organic whole that is distinct from the rest of China. Granted that efforts have come in dribs and drabs to wring synergy out of the member cities over the two years since the central government unveiled the guidelines: The Hong Kong government in November set up a designated steering committee, chaired by the chief executive. The Guangdong provincial government and the Shenzhen municipal government didn’t fail to include Bay Area-themed items as they mapped out their latest development strategies for the next five years. 

But their goals appear uncoordinated and, as a result, ring either hollow — postulating a bright and fully integrated future — or trivial, hyping every bilateral venture as a success. It’s typical for the central authorities to set the tone for a grand vision, as it did in drafting the guidelines, and leave local officials to flesh it out. But as the health code bust and the shut borders show, we have yet to find a steady hand at the local level that can steer the whole region and bring the development plan to fruition.

Frustration at the lack of regional leadership runs deep. Cross-border medical practitioner Tse Chun-ming said in an interview back in November, “On regional development, the central government gives only guidelines or principles. When detailed policies are rolled out for implementation, there could be some artificial obstacles that hinder an innovative policy from being realized.”

The Bay Area has three jurisdictions and as many currencies, among many other differences. The diversity is to be celebrated as it is to be thoughtfully measured. 

Political scientist Zheng Yongnian recently proposed that the Bay Area emulate the European Union and formulate a set of rules followed by all member cities. He said the 11 cities’ disparate policies will be a major sticking point in the Bay Area’s industrial upgrade and its future development. “For example, the foreign investment policy differs city from city. It gives overseas investors second thoughts about committing capital,” he said.

This is where Hong Kong should come in. As one of the four “core engine” cities for the Bay Area development, Hong Kong should bring to the table its undisputed credentials as an international financial, trade, shipping and tourism hub. By laying down the marker, the city can also put itself in a favorable position as it weighs the most comfortable degree of integration — one that gives Hong Kong ready access to the vast mainland market and labor pool while keeping its unique strengths intact. 

Hong Kong’s future lies in the north. But the twists and turns of the course are never set in stone. At a time of profound changes, Hong Kong should take a long, hard look at the road ahead, and determine the city it wants to be, and the Bay Area it wants to be in.

The author is a Hong Kong-based journalist.

The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.