Placing the blame: the charge against Patten is that by political posturing he rendered freedoms less likely to survive

National Review, Sept 1, 1997 by Anthony Lejeune

THE growth of empires, Winston Churchill once said, is often accompanied by much suffering: their dissolution, always. The chief sufferers from Britain's loss of its last major imperial possession, Hong Kong, are the Hong Kong Chinese; how bitter their suffering will be is anybody's guess. Meanwhile, a most entertaining fight (if entertainment is permissible in a tragic affair) has broken out between the last governor of Hong Kong, Christopher Patten, and those representatives of the British Foreign Office, notably Sir Percy Cradock and the then foreign secretary, Geoffrey Howe, who fixed the deal with Peking.

Cradock, now retired, was a professional diplomat of excellent reputation. Patten was, and probably is, an ambitious career politician on the left wing of the Conservative Party; he was one of those who, when the chips were down, failed to support Margaret Thatcher. Almost exactly the same description applies to Howe, except that he was the man who actually drove the dagger into Mrs. Thatcher's back.

Promoting the fight is Jonathan Dimbleby, a leftish political broadcaster whose semi-official book and a spin-off television program about the Prince of Wales contained Charles's disastrous public admission of adultery. A new book by Dimbleby, about Patten's governorship, and again a related television program, triggered this latest row.

First, a reprise of undisputed facts. Permanent possession of Hong Kong -- then little more than a rocky island -- was ceded to Britain by a valid (although Peking now says "unequal") treaty in 1841. The larger "New Territories" on the adjacent mainland were acquired under a 99-year lease in 1898. The huge wealth of Hong Kong has been built up only since the Second World War, the result, at least partly, of the flood of industrious refugees pouring in from China.

Every other part of Britain's discarded empire has been handed over to indigenous, nominally democratic, regimes. The idea of abandoning this last glittering jewel to an odious tyranny seemed deeply shocking. But, as the ominous 99th year approached, was there any choice? China was militarily capable of taking Hong Kong any day she chose: and even if, improbably, she respected the perpetual treaty, the island could scarcely be maintained if water and other essential supplies from the New Territories were cut. The Foreign Office concluded that the situation was hopeless; a managed surrender was the only option. To the irritation of her bureaucrats, Margaret Thatcher fought hard against this conclusion, but she was finally compelled to accept it.

Percy Cradock shuttled to and fro, while, under Geoffrey Howe's supervision, a deal was negotiated for what Peking subtly called "one country, two systems," allowing Hong Kong to remain a capitalist -- though not independent or democratic -- entity for another fifty years. Cradock and Howe were proud of their achievement. Prime Minister John Major, meanwhile, offered Chris Patten, who lost his seat in Parliament in 1992, the consolation prize of being Hong Kong's last governor. Within months of his arrival he started tinkering with what had been so delicately arranged. In his view the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989 and the growth of a vociferous Democracy Movement in Hong Kong had altered the situation. His objective was to introduce as much democracy as he could before the Communists took over.

All he could actually do was add a few democratically elected members to the ultimately powerless Legislative Council. But this was quite enough to enrage Peking. Other disputes followed: Patten was called "whore," "triple violator," "tango dancer," and "criminal for a thousand years." The details hardly matter, since his democratic reforms have already been canceled. However, Peking was not alone in being angered. The British negotiators felt that, as though in "some virility contest with China" (as Dimbleby put it), Patten had undermined their work, sacrificing the real interests of Hong Kong for the sake of good notices in the Western media.

Heated words erupted. Dimbleby - Patten (they seem to speak with one voice) accused "a motley array of super-annuated diplomats and politicians" of "appeasement," "betrayal," "arrogance, cynicism, and dishonorable conduct." There had been "a most blatant act of perfidy" in reneging on a commitment to hold elections before the handover. Cradock and Howe had been "apologists for China," "camped with the enemy," and -- gravest charge of all -- they had allowed their own future commercial interests to color their judgment.

These accusations, fumed Howe, reviewing the book, were "unjust," "grotesque," and "libelous." Cradock called them "grubby" and "groundless." Patten's actions had "brought the colony a bitter quarrel with China, worse terms for the transition and less protection after 1997." Patten himself does not deny that his efforts have proved fruitless. "But," says Cradock, "consciousness of failure is no excuse for questioning the integrity of everyone who disagrees with him."