Timing is everything: Territorial stigmatization, immobility policy, and the COVID-boom in Hong Kong’s Sham Shui Po

IF 1.9 3区 经济学 Q2 URBAN STUDIES
Tsz Chung Lai, Ben A. Gerlofs, He Wang
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We argue that this unexpected “boom” is the result of a conjunction of pandemic mitigation policy implemented by the Hong Kong government (which we label “immobility policy”) and the widespread and enduring reputation of Sham Shui Po in the city’s cultural geography (which we explore through the concept of “territorial stigma”). This case therefore stands to contribute substantially to ongoing debates on the nature and pace of urban change, especially at crucial historico-geographical junctures.KEYWORDS: COVID-19neighborhood changegentrificationaesthetic surveysocial media AcknowledgmentsWe wish to thank our Editor June Wang and our anonymous reviewers for their helpful and supportive feedback on earlier drafts of this manuscript, and for the feedback we received after presenting this work as part of the HKU Tourism Seminar Series in 2022. We are also grateful for the research assistance of Yan (Vienne) Lung, and for financial and other support from the Undergraduate Research Fellowship Programme at the University of Hong Kong.Disclosure statementNo potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).Notes1. See the work of the Society for Community Organization, based in Sham Shui Po, here: soco.org.hk/en/.2. In recent years, Sham Shui Po has become an important destination for asylum seekers from South Asia in particular. Hong Kong is not a signatory to major international treaties or agreements on refugees (thus, “refugee” is not a legal status in this Special Administrative Region of China), and the process of seeking asylum is experienced by many as complicated, arduous, and capricious. Asylum seekers generally have no right to legal employment, and small gatherings of unemployed persons (largely young and middle-aged men) easily identified by locals as foreigners and/or ethnic minorities are an increasingly visible presence on the streets of Sham Shui Po, which has created no small measure of social and political tension. When asked to describe the neighborhood, for instance, one longtime resident immediately responded that Sham Shui Po is populated by “all sorts of bad people (品流複雜),” specifically referencing the increasing presence of South Asians and the common local narrative that such persons are especially prone to fighting in public and committing petty crime (Anonymous, personal interview, July 27, 2021). In interviews and informal conversations, local residents, business operators, and public employees or contract workers (e.g., sanitation, public safety, etc.) also frequently and explicitly attribute a variety of social and environmental problems directly to immigrants and ethnic minorities, especially South Asians.3. The origin of the name Tai Nan is a matter of some dispute in local history. Two popular narratives converge around an original reference to the city of Da Nang in Vietnam, which many locals claim was transliterated into “Tai Nan” (大南) in Cantonese. According to local history expert Cheng Po-hung, one version of this origin story claims that the name was taken from a nearby pier connected with Da Nang, while the other makes a more general claim about longstanding connections between local enterprise in Sham Shui Po and Da Nang.4. When asked to identify the central part of Sham Shui Po or offer a reference point, our experience suggests that most Hong Kong residents will choose a location in this immediate area, often either the wet market itself or a nearby landmark such as the A2 Exit of the Sham Shui Po MTR (public transit rail) Station on Ap Liu Street.5. Instagram is a popular social media platform in Hong Kong. According to a digital marketing report, Instagram is the fourth most popular social media platform in Hong Kong (behind Facebook, YouTube and WhatsApp), with more than 2.28 million users up to January 2020; if age groups are taken into account, Instagram is the most popular platform for people under age 34 (AsiaPac Net Media, Citation2020).6. Due to privacy and accessibility, only public Instagram posts were collected.7. The Cantonese hashtag “#大南街” was used instead of the English “#tainanstreet” for the main objectives of this project, as the latter frequently returned posts about streets in Tainan City, Taiwan. For the purposes of this article, posts on both Twitter and Instagram using both the Cantonese and English versions were surveyed, though only the Cantonese version was included in the systematic analysis of Instagram posts.8. For the purposes of our analysis, posts refers here to posts wherein this hashtag (“#大南街,” “Tai Nan Street”) appears in either the caption or the author’s comments.9. Interestingly, the hashtag “#cafe” didn’t really take off until the second wave.10. “Business account” is a type of account on Instagram (see https://help.instagram.com/502981923235522). Any user can apply for a “Business account” (there are no follower thresholds or other such requirements). In this article, the term non-business account is used to describe all accounts that are not “business accounts.”11. A total of 58 posts were not assigned a business/non-business designation, possibly due to missing profile information, change of user name, or account deactivation. The same issue occurred when counting unique business and non-business accounts.12. Eateries provide a useful example. As counted by a major “yellow store” map provider, Lemon Map, a total of 2,329 “yellow stores” (eateries only) are listed. The number of “yellow stores” in Sham Shui Po is 71, making up only 3% of the total. Many other crowded (and some purportedly gentrifying) areas, such as Mongkok (153), Tsim Sha Tsui (113), Kwun Tong (103) and Causeway Bay (110), have many more “yellow stores” than Sham Shui Po, and even distant Yuen Long in Hong Kong’s New Territories is listed as having 111. See https://lemonmap.io.13. Even the official Twitter account of the Hong Kong Police Force (@hkpoliceforce) occasionally seems to flirt with this perspective on Sham Shui Po, as through references to social diversity decidedly uncommon in posts about other parts of the city, e.g.: “ … recently, a little girl of an #EthnicMinority in #HK lost her way in #ShamShuiPo. Luckily, she was spotted by a female #Police officer who then helped her find & reunite w/her mum.” (8 March, 2021); “New life breathed into #ShamShuiPo—Comm’r of Police joined > 300ppl+orgs+non-ethnic Chinese grps+#HKPF volunteers to adorn #PoliceStation’s wall w/local flavours+#ChildProtection msgs—break down barriers (age/race/religion)+paint[Hong Kong Flag emoji]’s bright future tgt” (8 November, 2021).14. This is not to say that each and every appraisal of Sham Shui Po is categorically negative, nor that appraisals that conform to the general pattern of territorial stigma do so uniformly. But deviations from these norms are overwhelmingly expressed as matters of emphasis (e.g., focus could be shifted toward experiences of Sham Shui Po as safe/pleasant/vibrant, even if such experiences are in the minority) or degree (e.g., it’s not as dangerous/seedy/degraded as people say, or “It’s not as bad as imagined” (Anonymous, personal interview, August 18, 2022), rather than substance.15. This and other ongoing research conducted in Hong Kong confirms the rarity of such toponymic clarity, as the boundaries of Hong Kong neighborhoods are a practically unending source of disagreement.16. According to multiple reports (e.g., Expedia, Citation2021) Hong Kong citizens remain some of the world’s keenest travelers, ranking second behind only Singapore in their desire for international travel in particular.17. In July of 2020, additional entry requirements were imposed for residents returning from abroad, especially from “high risk” countries (an ever-evolving list), including: “confirmation, in English or Chinese, of a room reservation in a hotel in Hong Kong for no less than 14 days, starting on the day of their arrival”; “a letter, certified by a laboratory or health institution, verifying that they have undergone, and received a negative test result for COVID-19 no more than 72 hours prior to their departure”; and “a letter, in English or Chinese, issued by the relevant authority of the government of the place in which the laboratory or healthcare institution is located, certifying that the laboratory or healthcare institution is recognized or approved by the government.” It was also announced at that time that, “Arrivals may be placed in a Hong Kong government quarantine center.”18. Though there is not currently a straightforward and comprehensive timeline of the evolution of these policies, thousands of archived press releases detailing the changes in these policies since January of 2020 can be searched and viewed at: www.gov.hk.en.19. Including an oft-reported “exodus” of both native Hongkongers and expatriates (c.f., Chau, Citation2022; Sim et al., Citation2022; Westbrook, Citation2022), though this remains contested analytical ground given both disputed parameters and the presence of several other major factors beyond the response to COVID-19.20. Analysts had already begun to warn of the recessionary potential of declining inbound tourism attributed to the 2019 protests even before the onset of COVID-19 (e.g., Huang, Citation2019).21. These figures may be viewed at: https://www.censtatd.gov.hk/en/. It has further been suggested that some portion of even this latter figure may be attributable to emigration rather than tourism, per se.22. Officially the “Western District Public Cargo Working Area,” “Instagram Pier” was abruptly closed to the public in early 2021, ostensibly as part of an effort to curb the spread of COVID-19 but in a move widely understood as resulting from the frustrations of dockworkers forced to constantly negotiate crowds of oblivious young selfie-seekers clambering to be seen scaling weather-worn shipping infrastructure or basking ironically amidst the ephemera of industrial labor so divorced from their own experiences as to appear exotic (nevermind the necessities of work still cringingly obvious at the edges of their curated exposures).Additional informationFundingThe research that informs this article was also funded in part by the Research Grants Council of Hong Kong [General Research Fund, Project Reference Number: 17612422] as well as the University of Hong Kong (Seed Fund for Basic Research, Project Reference Number: 104006087).Notes on contributorsTsz Chung LaiTsz Chung Lai is a PhD student at the Department of Sociology, Hong Kong Baptist University. His research focuses on neighborhood change, urban governance, social upgrading, labor and migration in Hong Kong, Mainland China, and Vietnam. He holds BSSc and MA degrees in political science and geography, respectively.Ben A. GerlofsBen A. Gerlofs is assistant professor and deputy head of the Department of Geography at the University of Hong Kong, where he also serves as director of the Cartographica Laboratory and Library. His research examines urban change across spatio-temporal scales, including the political economy of urbanization in historical and comparative perspective, the dynamics of contemporary urban governance and politics, processes of gentrification and neighborhood change, and various dimensions of urban culture and aesthetics. He is the author of Monstrous Politics: Geography, Rights, and the Urban Revolution in Mexico City (Vanderbilt University Press, 2023), and his academic work has also been published in Annals of the American Association of Geographers, International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, Urban Geography, Urban Studies, and Dialogues in Human Geography. He holds BA, MA, and PhD degrees in geography, and has conducted comparative urban research in East and Southeast Asia as well as North America.He WangHe Wang is a lecturer in the Department of Geography at the University of Hong Kong, where she also serves as the director of undergraduate studies. Her research sits at the intersection between political-economic geography, regional development and globalization, technology and innovation, and policy studies. 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引用次数: 0

Abstract

ABSTRACTThis article examines a peculiar case of neighborhood change in Sham Shui Po, one of Hong Kong’s densest and poorest neighborhoods. Based on two mixed-methods research projects conducted in 2021 and early 2022, we use social media analysis and data gathered through a four-component “aesthetic survey” methodology to demonstrate the drastic transformation of a particular section of this neighborhood in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. A key question of this research is why such a transformation should be taking place in this exact moment, as previous attempts have been made to stimulate precisely the sorts of changes now observed over the course of the last decade or so, all to no avail. We argue that this unexpected “boom” is the result of a conjunction of pandemic mitigation policy implemented by the Hong Kong government (which we label “immobility policy”) and the widespread and enduring reputation of Sham Shui Po in the city’s cultural geography (which we explore through the concept of “territorial stigma”). This case therefore stands to contribute substantially to ongoing debates on the nature and pace of urban change, especially at crucial historico-geographical junctures.KEYWORDS: COVID-19neighborhood changegentrificationaesthetic surveysocial media AcknowledgmentsWe wish to thank our Editor June Wang and our anonymous reviewers for their helpful and supportive feedback on earlier drafts of this manuscript, and for the feedback we received after presenting this work as part of the HKU Tourism Seminar Series in 2022. We are also grateful for the research assistance of Yan (Vienne) Lung, and for financial and other support from the Undergraduate Research Fellowship Programme at the University of Hong Kong.Disclosure statementNo potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).Notes1. See the work of the Society for Community Organization, based in Sham Shui Po, here: soco.org.hk/en/.2. In recent years, Sham Shui Po has become an important destination for asylum seekers from South Asia in particular. Hong Kong is not a signatory to major international treaties or agreements on refugees (thus, “refugee” is not a legal status in this Special Administrative Region of China), and the process of seeking asylum is experienced by many as complicated, arduous, and capricious. Asylum seekers generally have no right to legal employment, and small gatherings of unemployed persons (largely young and middle-aged men) easily identified by locals as foreigners and/or ethnic minorities are an increasingly visible presence on the streets of Sham Shui Po, which has created no small measure of social and political tension. When asked to describe the neighborhood, for instance, one longtime resident immediately responded that Sham Shui Po is populated by “all sorts of bad people (品流複雜),” specifically referencing the increasing presence of South Asians and the common local narrative that such persons are especially prone to fighting in public and committing petty crime (Anonymous, personal interview, July 27, 2021). In interviews and informal conversations, local residents, business operators, and public employees or contract workers (e.g., sanitation, public safety, etc.) also frequently and explicitly attribute a variety of social and environmental problems directly to immigrants and ethnic minorities, especially South Asians.3. The origin of the name Tai Nan is a matter of some dispute in local history. Two popular narratives converge around an original reference to the city of Da Nang in Vietnam, which many locals claim was transliterated into “Tai Nan” (大南) in Cantonese. According to local history expert Cheng Po-hung, one version of this origin story claims that the name was taken from a nearby pier connected with Da Nang, while the other makes a more general claim about longstanding connections between local enterprise in Sham Shui Po and Da Nang.4. When asked to identify the central part of Sham Shui Po or offer a reference point, our experience suggests that most Hong Kong residents will choose a location in this immediate area, often either the wet market itself or a nearby landmark such as the A2 Exit of the Sham Shui Po MTR (public transit rail) Station on Ap Liu Street.5. Instagram is a popular social media platform in Hong Kong. According to a digital marketing report, Instagram is the fourth most popular social media platform in Hong Kong (behind Facebook, YouTube and WhatsApp), with more than 2.28 million users up to January 2020; if age groups are taken into account, Instagram is the most popular platform for people under age 34 (AsiaPac Net Media, Citation2020).6. Due to privacy and accessibility, only public Instagram posts were collected.7. The Cantonese hashtag “#大南街” was used instead of the English “#tainanstreet” for the main objectives of this project, as the latter frequently returned posts about streets in Tainan City, Taiwan. For the purposes of this article, posts on both Twitter and Instagram using both the Cantonese and English versions were surveyed, though only the Cantonese version was included in the systematic analysis of Instagram posts.8. For the purposes of our analysis, posts refers here to posts wherein this hashtag (“#大南街,” “Tai Nan Street”) appears in either the caption or the author’s comments.9. Interestingly, the hashtag “#cafe” didn’t really take off until the second wave.10. “Business account” is a type of account on Instagram (see https://help.instagram.com/502981923235522). Any user can apply for a “Business account” (there are no follower thresholds or other such requirements). In this article, the term non-business account is used to describe all accounts that are not “business accounts.”11. A total of 58 posts were not assigned a business/non-business designation, possibly due to missing profile information, change of user name, or account deactivation. The same issue occurred when counting unique business and non-business accounts.12. Eateries provide a useful example. As counted by a major “yellow store” map provider, Lemon Map, a total of 2,329 “yellow stores” (eateries only) are listed. The number of “yellow stores” in Sham Shui Po is 71, making up only 3% of the total. Many other crowded (and some purportedly gentrifying) areas, such as Mongkok (153), Tsim Sha Tsui (113), Kwun Tong (103) and Causeway Bay (110), have many more “yellow stores” than Sham Shui Po, and even distant Yuen Long in Hong Kong’s New Territories is listed as having 111. See https://lemonmap.io.13. Even the official Twitter account of the Hong Kong Police Force (@hkpoliceforce) occasionally seems to flirt with this perspective on Sham Shui Po, as through references to social diversity decidedly uncommon in posts about other parts of the city, e.g.: “ … recently, a little girl of an #EthnicMinority in #HK lost her way in #ShamShuiPo. Luckily, she was spotted by a female #Police officer who then helped her find & reunite w/her mum.” (8 March, 2021); “New life breathed into #ShamShuiPo—Comm’r of Police joined > 300ppl+orgs+non-ethnic Chinese grps+#HKPF volunteers to adorn #PoliceStation’s wall w/local flavours+#ChildProtection msgs—break down barriers (age/race/religion)+paint[Hong Kong Flag emoji]’s bright future tgt” (8 November, 2021).14. This is not to say that each and every appraisal of Sham Shui Po is categorically negative, nor that appraisals that conform to the general pattern of territorial stigma do so uniformly. But deviations from these norms are overwhelmingly expressed as matters of emphasis (e.g., focus could be shifted toward experiences of Sham Shui Po as safe/pleasant/vibrant, even if such experiences are in the minority) or degree (e.g., it’s not as dangerous/seedy/degraded as people say, or “It’s not as bad as imagined” (Anonymous, personal interview, August 18, 2022), rather than substance.15. This and other ongoing research conducted in Hong Kong confirms the rarity of such toponymic clarity, as the boundaries of Hong Kong neighborhoods are a practically unending source of disagreement.16. According to multiple reports (e.g., Expedia, Citation2021) Hong Kong citizens remain some of the world’s keenest travelers, ranking second behind only Singapore in their desire for international travel in particular.17. In July of 2020, additional entry requirements were imposed for residents returning from abroad, especially from “high risk” countries (an ever-evolving list), including: “confirmation, in English or Chinese, of a room reservation in a hotel in Hong Kong for no less than 14 days, starting on the day of their arrival”; “a letter, certified by a laboratory or health institution, verifying that they have undergone, and received a negative test result for COVID-19 no more than 72 hours prior to their departure”; and “a letter, in English or Chinese, issued by the relevant authority of the government of the place in which the laboratory or healthcare institution is located, certifying that the laboratory or healthcare institution is recognized or approved by the government.” It was also announced at that time that, “Arrivals may be placed in a Hong Kong government quarantine center.”18. Though there is not currently a straightforward and comprehensive timeline of the evolution of these policies, thousands of archived press releases detailing the changes in these policies since January of 2020 can be searched and viewed at: www.gov.hk.en.19. Including an oft-reported “exodus” of both native Hongkongers and expatriates (c.f., Chau, Citation2022; Sim et al., Citation2022; Westbrook, Citation2022), though this remains contested analytical ground given both disputed parameters and the presence of several other major factors beyond the response to COVID-19.20. Analysts had already begun to warn of the recessionary potential of declining inbound tourism attributed to the 2019 protests even before the onset of COVID-19 (e.g., Huang, Citation2019).21. These figures may be viewed at: https://www.censtatd.gov.hk/en/. It has further been suggested that some portion of even this latter figure may be attributable to emigration rather than tourism, per se.22. Officially the “Western District Public Cargo Working Area,” “Instagram Pier” was abruptly closed to the public in early 2021, ostensibly as part of an effort to curb the spread of COVID-19 but in a move widely understood as resulting from the frustrations of dockworkers forced to constantly negotiate crowds of oblivious young selfie-seekers clambering to be seen scaling weather-worn shipping infrastructure or basking ironically amidst the ephemera of industrial labor so divorced from their own experiences as to appear exotic (nevermind the necessities of work still cringingly obvious at the edges of their curated exposures).Additional informationFundingThe research that informs this article was also funded in part by the Research Grants Council of Hong Kong [General Research Fund, Project Reference Number: 17612422] as well as the University of Hong Kong (Seed Fund for Basic Research, Project Reference Number: 104006087).Notes on contributorsTsz Chung LaiTsz Chung Lai is a PhD student at the Department of Sociology, Hong Kong Baptist University. His research focuses on neighborhood change, urban governance, social upgrading, labor and migration in Hong Kong, Mainland China, and Vietnam. He holds BSSc and MA degrees in political science and geography, respectively.Ben A. GerlofsBen A. Gerlofs is assistant professor and deputy head of the Department of Geography at the University of Hong Kong, where he also serves as director of the Cartographica Laboratory and Library. His research examines urban change across spatio-temporal scales, including the political economy of urbanization in historical and comparative perspective, the dynamics of contemporary urban governance and politics, processes of gentrification and neighborhood change, and various dimensions of urban culture and aesthetics. He is the author of Monstrous Politics: Geography, Rights, and the Urban Revolution in Mexico City (Vanderbilt University Press, 2023), and his academic work has also been published in Annals of the American Association of Geographers, International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, Urban Geography, Urban Studies, and Dialogues in Human Geography. He holds BA, MA, and PhD degrees in geography, and has conducted comparative urban research in East and Southeast Asia as well as North America.He WangHe Wang is a lecturer in the Department of Geography at the University of Hong Kong, where she also serves as the director of undergraduate studies. Her research sits at the intersection between political-economic geography, regional development and globalization, technology and innovation, and policy studies. She holds BS, MA, and PhD degrees in geography.
时机就是一切:领土污名化、不动政策,以及香港深水埗的新冠疫情热潮
摘要本文考察了香港人口最密集、最贫穷的深水埗社区变化的一个特殊案例。基于在2021年和2022年初进行的两个混合方法研究项目,我们使用社交媒体分析和通过四组件“美学调查”方法收集的数据来展示该社区特定部分在COVID-19大流行期间的巨大变化。这项研究的一个关键问题是,为什么这样的转变会在这个确切的时刻发生,因为在过去十年左右的时间里,人们曾试图刺激正是现在观察到的那种变化,但都无济于事。我们认为,这种意想不到的“繁荣”是香港政府实施的流行病缓解政策(我们称之为“不动政策”)和深水埗在城市文化地理中广泛而持久的声誉(我们通过“地域耻辱”的概念进行探讨)相结合的结果。因此,这个案例对正在进行的关于城市变化的性质和速度的辩论做出了重大贡献,特别是在关键的历史地理节点上。关键词:covid -19社区变化中产阶级化审美调查社交媒体感谢我们的编辑June Wang和我们的匿名审稿人对本手稿早期草稿的帮助和支持反馈,以及我们在2022年作为香港大学旅游系列研讨会的一部分发表后收到的反馈。我们亦非常感谢龙燕(Vienne)的研究协助,以及香港大学本科生研究奖学金计划的资助和其他支持。披露声明作者未报告潜在的利益冲突。有关深水埗社区组织协会的工作,请浏览:soco.org.hk/en/.2。近年来,深水埗已成为南亚寻求庇护人士的重要目的地。香港并不是有关难民的主要国际条约或协议的签署国(因此,“难民”在这个中国特别行政区不是一个法律地位),许多人都经历了复杂、艰难和反复无常的寻求庇护的过程。寻求庇护者通常没有合法就业的权利,在深水埗的街道上,越来越多的失业者(主要是年轻人和中年男子)聚集在一起,很容易被当地人认定为外国人和/或少数民族,这造成了不小的社会和政治紧张局势。例如,当被要求描述这个社区时,一位长期居住在这里的居民立即回答说,深水埗住着“各种各样的坏人”,特别提到了南亚人越来越多的存在,以及当地普遍的说法,即这些人特别容易在公共场合打架,犯下轻微的罪行。在访谈和非正式交谈中,当地居民、企业经营者、公共雇员或合同工(如卫生、公共安全等)也经常明确地将各种社会和环境问题直接归咎于移民和少数民族,尤其是南亚人。“太南”这个名字的由来在当地历史上有一些争议。两种流行的说法围绕着越南岘港市的原始参考,许多当地人声称该城市在广东话中被音译为“Tai Nan”。根据当地历史专家郑宝鸿(Cheng Po-hung)的说法,这个起源故事的一个版本声称,这个名字来自附近一个与岘港相连的码头,而另一个版本则更笼统地认为,深水埗当地企业与岘港之间存在着长期的联系。当被要求确定深水埗的中心部分或提供一个参考点时,我们的经验表明,大多数香港居民会选择紧邻这一区域的地点,通常是菜市场本身或附近的地标,例如位于鸭柳街的深水埗港铁站A2出口。Instagram是香港很受欢迎的社交媒体平台。根据一份数字营销报告,Instagram是香港第四大最受欢迎的社交媒体平台(仅次于Facebook、YouTube和WhatsApp),截至2020年1月,拥有超过228万用户;如果考虑到年龄群体,Instagram是34岁以下人群中最受欢迎的平台(AsiaPac Net Media, Citation2020)。由于隐私和可访问性,只收集了公开的Instagram帖子。这个项目的主要目的是用广东话的标签“#台南街”来代替英文的“#台南街”,因为后者经常回复有关台湾台南市街道的帖子。 甚至在2019冠状病毒病爆发之前,分析人士就已经开始警告2019年抗议活动导致入境旅游下降的经济衰退潜力(例如,Huang, Citation2019)。这些数据可在https://www.censtatd.gov.hk/en/查看。还有人认为,甚至后一数字的一部分也可归因于移民,而不是旅游业。正式名称为“西区公众货物装卸区”,“Instagram码头”于2021年初突然对公众关闭,表面上是为了遏制COVID-19的传播,但人们普遍认为,这一举动是由于码头工人的挫败感,他们被迫不断与一群漫不经心的年轻自拍者打交道,这些人爬上饱经风寒的航运基础设施,或者讽刺地沉浸在与自己的经验脱节的短暂的工业劳动中,这似乎是异国风情(更不用说工作的必要性仍然在他们的展览边缘令人厌恶地明显)曝光)。本文的研究也得到了香港研究资助局[一般研究基金,项目参考编号:17612422]和香港大学(基础研究种子基金,项目参考编号:104006087)的部分资助。钟来志钟来志,香港浸会大学社会学系博士生。他的研究主要集中在香港、中国大陆和越南的邻里变化、城市治理、社会升级、劳动力和移民。他分别拥有政治学学士学位和地理学硕士学位。Ben A. Gerlofs,香港大学地理系助理教授兼副系主任,同时担任香港大学制图实验室及图书馆主任。他的研究跨越时空尺度考察了城市的变化,包括历史和比较视角下城市化的政治经济、当代城市治理和政治的动态、士绅化和邻里变化的过程,以及城市文化和美学的各个维度。他是《可怕的政治:墨西哥城的地理、权利和城市革命》(范德比尔特大学出版社,2023年)一书的作者,他的学术著作也发表在《美国地理学家协会年鉴》、《国际城市与区域研究杂志》、《城市地理学》、《城市研究》和《人文地理学对话》上。他拥有地理学学士、硕士和博士学位,并在东亚、东南亚和北美进行了比较城市研究。何王,香港大学地理系讲师,同时担任本科生教研室主任。她的研究集中在政治经济地理学、区域发展与全球化、技术与创新以及政策研究等领域。她拥有地理学学士、硕士和博士学位。
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来源期刊
Journal of Urban Affairs
Journal of Urban Affairs URBAN STUDIES-
CiteScore
5.40
自引率
4.80%
发文量
156
期刊介绍: Focusing on urban research and policy analysis, the Journal of Urban Affairs is among the most widely cited journals in the field. Published for the Urban Affairs Association, the journal offers multidisciplinary perspectives and explores issues of relevance to both scholars and practitioners, including: - Theoretical, conceptual, or methodological approaches to metropolitan and community problems - Empirical research that advances the understanding of society - Strategies for social change in the urban milieu - Innovative urban policies and programs - Issues of current interest to those who work in the field and those who study the urban and regional environment
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