The season we must all endure

Exam time at HKU: the season that both students and teachers hate though for different reasons. The students dislike the pressure and uncertainty, naturally; the teachers dislike the tedium of marking. That the exams coincide with the arrival of rain and humidity makes the season all the more trying. I associate the marking of examination scripts with dark, low clouds, torrential downpours and damp, limp pieces of paper.

These days the pressure on the students is more intense than twenty years ago. In the undergraduate courses they have to achieve good scores across the board so as to maintain their grade point average. This is one of those American importations happily embraced by 21st century HKU, along with calling lecturers professors and re-styling senior administrators as presidents. The GPA helps decide whether a law student is allowed into the PCLL.

In the PCLL the pressure comes from receiving conditional offers of employment from law firms before or during the course. If candidates don’t get through in all subjects in June, the conditions will not be satisfied and the offers may disappear, especially in the current economic climate. It’s little consolation that there are re-sits in August when nearly everyone gets through.

No wonder therefore that the old deferential, fatalistic attitude to exam results has disappeared. Students nowadays challenge results and question the marking, something previous generations would not have dreamt of doing. Those applying for the PCLL want to know which institution has the easiest course, to which the answer seems to be: not HKU. I would like to think that previous generations would have asked which institution had the best course, though I suspect in reality they were pretty pragmatic when it came to professional qualifications and anyway it was only 20-odd years ago that they first had a choice of course provider.

The agony goes on until the results come out in late June. The idea is that everything is complete before the first typhoon arrives, you see. Or maybe before the staff go off on holiday.

Canadian judicial enquiries

A pleasant respite from the oppression of the season was a meeting with Canadian provincial court judges on 21st May. Forty-one of them arrived at the university senate room, full of questions about life and law in Hong Kong and the East.

Apparently there are more than a thousand provincial judges across Canada. They hear low-level criminal cases, rather like our magistrates. They have a thriving organization. In Canada there is a civilized convention that at this time of year the courts take a week off, so practitioners get a break and judges have a chance to travel. Even the Quebec judges join in – in fact there seemed to be more from there than anywhere else.

This was their first visit to China. They’d spent a week on the mainland being royally looked after in the major cities. They had been impressed with the buildings and court rooms, but were not so sure about the quality of justice. Had we experienced any changes after the handover? What about judicial independence? How were our judges chosen? Did we have trial by jury? Was there a split profession? Did we wear wigs and gowns?

The keenest inquiries concerned judicial salaries. We told them that in Hong Kong the salaries were handsome, probably the best in the world, and don’t forget the low tax. There seemed to be a special ripple of interest at that.


Of course we asked a few questions too, even prompting one reply in French. The one-hour exchange somehow became an hour-and-a-half and they were going to be late for lunch elsewhere. But we managed to fit in some photographs and a presentation.

Where are the pigeon fanciers of HK?

About ten days ago a pigeon arrived in our garden. Not a fat urban one, but quite a sleek, beautiful creature. At first we didn’t pay much attention. But the pigeon kept coming back and we noticed that each of its legs was ringed.

A racing pigeon that had been blown off course on its way home, we thought. Internet searches told us to put out rice and water and to try to find an identification number on the wings and revealed the address and telephone number of the Hong Kong Homing Pigeon Association, in the appropriately-named Tern Centre. A friendly biology teacher opined that the bird just needed a rest then would be off home, probably somewhere in the mainland.

No luck with the Pigeon Association: it had closed down during the bird flu scare when presumably all pigeons were slaughtered. No luck with a number on the wings, either. Whilst we were at work our domestic helper, putting her experience on the farm in Indonesia to good use, coaxed and grabbed the visitor, then phoned to say she could not see a number and would hand the pigeon over to the management. Oh no, said taitai, they’ll give it to Agriculture and Fisheries who’ll kill it, release the poor bird at once.

Far from setting off home, pidge seems to have decided that our place is his (or her, can’t tell) home. He flits between the wall, the lawn and the rim of the neighbours' roof. After the incident with the maid, he’s not letting us get close though.

The women have put out rice and water, which he occasionally skips down to try. During the weekend rains taitai trailed around the pet and garden shops of Fanling, searching in vain for a birdhouse. She ended up buying a plastic clothes basket, lodging it on its side beneath a bush and covering it to keep the wet out.

I reckon that the pigeon must have been kept in one of the nearby cottage areas and been released by its owner rather than surrendered to the authorities. Anyway, he seems to have decided where home now is.

Malcolm Merry is Associate Professor of Law at the University of Hong Kong and a Hong Kong barrister. He is the author of Hong Kong Tenancy Law (4th ed, LexisNexis 2003) and co-author (with Paul Kent) of Building Management in Hong Kong (2nd ed, LexisNexis 2008).