By Keith B. Richburg
Washington Post Foreign Service
Tuesday, June 30, 1998; Page A12

HONG KONG—In a cramped second-story office of the Chinese University's student union, three undergraduates discussed being Chinese from Hong Kong one year after the territory's return to Chinese rule, giving voice to the deep ambiguity and profound questions of identity felt by many others in this former British colony.

Cho Chok Him, 20, an engineering student, said that when he is logged on to the Internet and is asked to provide his home details or if someone asks the inevitable question about where he is from, he always answers "Hong Kong." And if he is asked specifically for his country, he said, "I write China" -- and sometimes feels "a little bit embarrassed about it."

Ng Wing Yan, 20, a nutrition student, said she still tries to put distance between herself and her new motherland. "I would never refuse to say I'm Chinese. Deep in my mind, I feel like I'm going home," she said. "But many people try to make China and the Communist Party equivalent, so sometimes I'm a bit disappointed at having to say the word 'China.' "

Chris Cheung, a 21-year-old studying English translation, put it this way: "I don't want to say I'm from China. I mean, I love my country. I like the culture. But it's kind of a contradiction when I see it's ruled by Communists."

One year ago, when 150 years of British rule came to a close, the prevalent feeling among Hong Kong's people was fear that Chinese rule might bring with it corruption, an erosion of civil liberties, a shackling of the press, new curbs on dissent and daily interference from Beijing. Today it seems such concerns have largely subsided -- only to be replaced with worries about the economy and a lingering sense of what Zunzi, a popular cartoonist, describes as the feeling common to "most of the Hong Kong people -- there is this alienation between Hong Kong and China."

As Hong Kong and Chinese officials try to drum up patriotic pride on the anniversary of what they call Hong Kong's "glorious reunification" with the mainland, they do so against a backdrop of gloomy economic news: a recession that could stretch through the year, the highest unemployment rate in 15 years, collapsing stock and property markets that have made many middle-class people suddenly poorer, and a year of mishaps that has called into question Hong Kong's reputation for administrative efficiency.

From his longtime perch in Hong Kong's business district called Central, vendor Lo Hoi, who sells newspapers, flags and postcards, sees the evidence of the slump: fewer people in pricey restaurants, longer lines at fast-food shops and almost no one buying his Chinese and Hong Kong flags to celebrate the anniversary.

"Because this year the economic situation is not so good, even the government is not doing much to celebrate," Lo said. "There's no fireworks. There's no atmosphere for celebration."

Chinese President Jiang Zemin will mark the July 1 anniversary with a flag-raising ceremony, a handover banquet at the convention center and a celebration at the Hong Kong Coliseum. The festivities will be capped with a visit by President Clinton.

The government's attempts at patriotic boosterism seem summed up in the simple slogan written on the Prince of Wales building, which now houses the Chinese army garrison in Hong Kong: "Love The Motherland, Love Hong Kong."

But for many, love of the motherland is a forced one they do not really feel.

"How does one show one's love for somebody else?" said Martin Lee, chairman of the Democratic Party, whose campaign of human rights and expanded democracy in Hong Kong has caused him to be banned from the rest of China. "By saying 'I love you' only? . . . This love has to be won."

On the opposite side of the political divide, Tsang Yok-sing, chairman of the pro-Beijing Democratic Alliance, conceded: "Love, emotions, don't change overnight." Tsang said that even as a staunchly pro-China figure in recent political quarrels, he feels a bit inhibited about listing his nationality as Chinese on airport immigration documents. "I have to admit that even for me, I will hesitate a little when I fill out these forms," he said.

In many concrete ways, Hong Kong and the rest of China remain entirely separate entities one year after their reunification. Flights from here to Beijing are considered international, and Hong Kong's Chinese residents still need a travel permit to cross the border. By most estimates, the majority of Hong Kongers, including many elected members of the local legislature, do not know the words to the Chinese national anthem.

In a speech in Washington earlier this month, chief secretary Anson Chan, Hong Kong's top civil servant, said "the real transition is about identity and not sovereignty." She went on to describe how her revelation came on Oct. 1, China's national day, and how she felt touched when she saw China's red flag with five gold stars hoisted for the first national day celebrated in Hong Kong.

Chan's remarks sparked a flood of cynicism and jokes here that speak volumes about the territory's confused sense of self, particularly among young people born and bred here under the Union Jack, for whom mainland China seemed distant, forbidding and somewhat alien.

Under British rule, little was taught in schools about China, and never the kind of civics lesson that would imbue young people with a sense of Chinese nationalism, said Daisy Li, an editor with Apple Daily, Hong Kong's most popular Chinese-language newspaper. "We don't have any particular feeling when we hear the national anthem or see the national flag," she said.

Some older Hong Kong residents also attribute young people's lack of Chinese nationalism and identity to a failure of education -- and to long exposure to Western culture. Simon F.S. Li, at 75 the elder member of one of Hong Kong's most prominent families and a former justice on its highest court, said, "If they knew more about Chinese culture and Chinese history, they wouldn't be so critical of China."

But among his generation, Li may be an exception. Many older Hong Kongers immigrated here from China to escape the turmoil of the 1966-76 Cultural Revolution, and their feelings are stronger -- and much more negative.

"Both of my parents dislike China," said Cheung, the university student. "Especially my mom. She came here because of the Cultural Revolution. She suffered quite a lot. She came here to escape China. For her, she is really biased against China -- the people, the culture, everything. To her, even the soccer team is bad."