talks with the Chinese. The Foreign Secretary visited China

in April, tried for agreement and came very near reaching

it. But the Chinese remained elusive. They shifted their

ground. New demands appeared or old demands were

resurrected. What they seemed to be seeking were two

things. First, extreme financial reassurance in the form of

guarantees of money to be left in the Hong Kong reserves

after the construction of the airport and limitations on

a demand that

government borrowing, SO that the new site and its

buildings would come to them almost as a gift. Second, and

most worrying, they sought a generalised right of veto over

major Hong Kong decisions in the transitional period. The

veto claim was not baldly stated; the Chinese Foreign

Minister denied that it was being made; it was concealed in

certain matters should be subject to

consultation and consensus; but the meaning was clear

enough. At its most ambitious, the claim was that consensus

should be reached on any responsibility or obligation to be

taken on by the Government of the Special Administrative

Region. It was impossible to reconcile this with the

British Government's responsibility, acknowledged in the

Joint Declaration, for administering Hong Kong until 1997.

Nor was there, among these large and generalised demands,

any sign of the precision and certainty that we needed on

finance, on franchises, on consultation, if the Hong Kong

authorities were to get on with the project, and that

private investors needed if they were to venture their

money.

This was the situation in the summer of 1991. A

И

breakdown looked likely. The Chinese were threatening to

publish their account of the negotiations in order το

demonstrate British "insincerity". There was a point fast

approaching when the Governor could no longer postpone a

public decision: the calls for tenders on two of the main

contracts were overdue.

Steps were taken to make plain to the Chinese the

essentials of our position. We must have cooperation from

them. We must also have clarity and certainty if we were to

embark on the work. Failing that, we would reluctantly be

obliged to postpone the whole project.

This message almost certainly made an impact and

corrected any expectations the Chinese might have had that,

since our need for the airport was extreme, their exactions

could safely continue.

At this point I became involved as an actor rather

than simply an adviser and observer. It was decided to send

me to Peking as the Prime Minister's representative on a

make-or-break visit. The main bones of the story follow;

but I shall have to draw a veil over the detail of my

discussions in Peking: at the time of writing negotiations

on the airport continue and I would not want these memoirs

to prejudice them in any way.

For reasons which I shall not go into here, the

preliminaries to the visit followed a strange and indirect

pattern. Final agreement to travel came, as I remember, in a

telephone call from Zimbabwe and my plan to go by

Scandinavian Airlines, SO as to avoid Hong Kong, was

transformed in the telling to a message that I would be

flown in by the S.A.S. But I eventually arrived in Peking,

by orthodox means, on 27 June without incident.

Like my excursion in December 1989, it was meant

to be a secret visit. It remained relatively discreet until

the work was done, though an alert Daily Telegraph reporter

spotted me in the first twenty-four hours. I travelled

alone. This time I had Robin McLaren already at the other

end, as our newly installed Ambassador; and I thought the

two of us should be able to do whatever was necessary. In the

event we drew heavily on the help of his Counsellor, David

Coates, and First Secretary, Janet Rogan; and the whole of

his Embassy was mobilised in support.

There was no Hong Kong representative present.

This was unfortunate, but, in the circumstances,

unavoidable. The Governor, whom I had seen in London the day

before leaving, was very understanding; and he and his

Executive Council were kept throughout in the closest

touch.

I set out with low expectations, a less than fifty

per cent chance of success as I saw it. The ground had been

thoroughly worked over and the Chinese demands were

extreme. I had about three days: Li Peng, the Chinese Prime

Minister, was leaving for the Middle East that weekend. I

had to make it clear that this was the last word. The best

scenario, it seemed, would be the discovery of enough

common ground to support an agreed minute and to justify a

further meeting of experts to draw up an agreement. But

equally plausible was the scenario in which both sides

acknowledged disagreement and, perhaps, tried to limit the

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