The Selk’nam, also known as the Onawo or Ona people are an indigenous
people in the Patagonian region of southern Chile and Argentina,
including the Tierra del Fuego islands. They were one of the last
aboriginal groups in South America to be reached by Westerners in the
late 19th century, when the Chilean and Argentine governments began
efforts to explore and integrate Tierra del Fuego (literally, the “land
of fire” based on early European explorers observing Selk’nam smoke from
their bonfires).
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Sunlight comes only rarely, with a sliver slicing down between the
ramshackle towers. The light here is fluorescent and the people packed
sardine tight amongst twisting corridors. Some of the lower levels are
widely considered uninhabitable due to trash. Up the street (if it can
be called that) there’s a drug parlor with an unlicensed “doctor” open
for business upstairs. They exist openly: there are no police because
there is no law.
The above is not a description of a dystopian (or utopian) fantasia, but of the Kowloon Walled City
which was very real. From 1945-1993, a political loophole created a
zone of Hong Kong where there was no law. The resulting anarchic,
hodge-podge monolith was the descendant of the pirate utopias
of old: a testament to humanity’s ingenuity, greed, violence and
tenacity. Here is a glimpse within the walls of one of the strangest
human settlements ever.
The story goes like this: it’s 1898 and, at the height of their
imperial power, the British have just forced the Chinese to sign away
the Kowloon Peninsula for the next 99 years. There is one exception,
however, as the British agree to let a small magistrate’s fort remain
until they set up their colonial administration. The Chinese leave, but
when the British attack the fort, they find it abandoned. So, like any
good colonial bureaucrat, they scratch their heads before promptly
turning it into a tourist attraction and ignore its murky legal status.
Along comes World War II, and the Japanese, after taking Hong Kong,
tear down the walls to build an airport. After the war, squatters flock
to the area and begin to build. Attempts to evict them end, twice, end
in riots that threaten to cause a diplomatic incident. The British go
back to ignoring the place. The population grows exponentially, and by
1971 there are 10,000 people living on seven acres. It attracts the
usual types drawn to undiscovered countries: criminals, dreamers,
dissidents, refugees and the plain desperate.
But even as the buildings practically merge into one monolithic
labyrinth, people manage to build a life in the Walled City. The
communities work out basic rules to prevent fires, sink over 70 wells or
tap into city supplies to get water (Hong Kong ends up providing it),
set height limits on the buildings to prevent trouble with the nearby
airport and establish volunteer groups to keep some basic order.
But this is still a lawless place. Driven from mainland China, the
Triads set up shop and start living like kings, while Hong Kong’s upper
crust comes in for the sex, drugs and gambling. The gangsters end up
lording it over the inhabitants until 3,000 raids by the Hong Kong
police in the 1970s clear most of them out (though it leaves the city
ungoverned as ever).
After the Triad recedes, the city thrives, the population multiplies
to 35,000 (making it one of the most densely populated places on the
planet), and by most accounts, the violent crime rate is lower than
similar neighborhoods in the rest of the city. Doctors and entrepreneurs
who can’t afford the licenses in Hong Kong set up shop and make a
fortune.
But, thing change as the handover to China approaches. Neither
country’s government particularly likes the filthy uncontrolled pocket
that their nearly century long dispute has created. An agreement is
made, the residents are moved out and, in 1993 the whole staggering
structure is demolished. Today, it’s a park.
Documentary shot inside of the Kowloon Walled City
