A Glimmer of Hope Amid Disaster

A massive fire has revealed to the world the hardships Hong Kong society is currently facing. Seven 31-storey buildings—with roughly 1,700 units—were destroyed in a 43-hour blaze, leaving nearly two thousand families homeless. The 156 people who died, including many elderly residents and the domestic workers who cared for them, left their families devastated: most victims simply had no chance to escape because the flames spread rapidly and the fire alarm never sounded. The shocking footage—resembling iconic scenes from a disaster film—circulated online within a single day, prompting many to ask: Is this the suffering now endured by the place once known as the “Pearl of the Orient”?

World leaders offered their condolences to Hongkongers. Chinese President Xi Jinping expressed sorrow for the victims and extended sympathy to their families and survivors. Pope Leo XIV and King Charles III conveyed their condolences; Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese expressed care and support for Hong Kong people. Hong Kong tycoon Li Ka-shing immediately donated HKD $80 million for disaster relief and distributed emergency aid, earning widespread approval. Citizens brought clothes, food, and supplies to the disaster site to help affected residents, showing a spirit of mutual aid in times of hardship.

During the fire, many waited anxiously near the site, hoping their loved ones would emerge safely. For those who reunited with family, there was relief—an ember of hope amid catastrophe. But others were forced to accept, in an instant, that their loved ones had been burned to death, reduced to ashes, having suffered unbearable agony in their final moments. Their grief, anger, and pain naturally lead to a single question: Who will be held accountable for this?

Yet the response from senior Hong Kong officials has been deeply disappointing.

A Government That “Cannot Be Wrong”

The Hong Kong government’s first reaction was astonishing: it blamed the fire on the use of bamboo scaffolding and immediately pushed for legislation to ban bamboo scaffolds. Without proper investigation, the government casually pinned the problem on bamboo, leaving the public with the impression that officials were merely searching for a “not us” excuse—an attitude cold and indifferent to human life.

Yet the footage showed the opposite. The falling bamboo poles were not on fire; instead, flames raced along the sheets of netting wrapped around the buildings. The blame placed on bamboo looked like a crude attempt to deflect responsibility.

When it was later suggested that non-compliant, flammable netting was the real reason the fire spread so quickly, the relevant bureau chief hastily declared that the materials had “been verified as compliant,” prompting widespread disbelief. Those who questioned the government were then accused of “inciting hatred” or being “troublemakers”—a clear reflection of the post-2019 logic in Hong Kong: the government is always right, and anyone who questions it is subversive.

While the entire city was gripped by shock and grief, authorities chose repression over empathy, acting as if heavy-handed tactics could simply bury public anger. This showed a profound misunderstanding of Hong Kong’s unique social fabric and international context. With the world watching, expecting Hongkongers to react like citizens long conditioned under an authoritarian regime in the mainland revealed a startling lack of political awareness.

As a result, Hongkongers across the globe—supported by international media—laid bare the deeper societal, structural, and governance failures behind the fire.

A Government Accountable to the People

Democratic governments may be inefficient or inconsistent, but those that ignore their people for too long ultimately get voted out. Thus they at least claim accountability. In disasters, the most essential response is empathy and acknowledgment of public concerns—not suppression or demands for silence.

The Hong Kong fire has drawn global attention, causing many to suddenly re-examine the skyscrapers built worldwide over recent decades. No matter the country, these massive structures can become sources of catastrophe. I still remember watching Paul Newman’s 1974 classic The Towering Inferno, a film built around fears of high-rise disasters: a 138-storey skyscraper becomes an inferno during its opening ceremony because of cost-cutting and substandard safety systems. The film’s message was clear—human arrogance and greed can turn innovation into tragedy.

Hong Kong’s dense population means high-rise living is long normalized; Australian cities like Melbourne and Sydney have similarly embraced this lifestyle. But have we truly learned how to live safely in such environments? The fire at Hong Fuk Court—and similar tragedies like London’s 2017 Grenfell Tower fire—are harsh lessons for modern societies on managing high-density urban living.

The Hong Kong fire demonstrates clearly that the city—including its government—has not yet learned to manage such buildings safely. When officials treat victims’ questions as threats to national security, it shows an unwillingness to confront reality.

China’s rapid urbanization means cities across the mainland now resemble Hong Kong, sharing similar latent risks. Ensuring these skyscrapers are safe homes is also a pressing concern for the central government. I do not believe Beijing will ignore the lessons of this Hong Kong disaster or use “national security” as an excuse to bury the underlying problems; that would not benefit China either.

Recent developments suggest the central government may pursue accountability among Hong Kong officials. Perhaps, amid all the suffering, this is one small glimmer of hope for Hongkongers.