Ken Ip says the late premier repeatedly acknowledged the city’s contribution to the nation’s reform and opening-up, particularly during the 1970s and 1980s

My most vivid memory of the late Chinese premier Zhu Rongji is not his economic speeches, nor his sharp exchanges with journalists.

It is a quieter, more unexpected moment.

In November 2002, during his visit to Hong Kong as the premier, Zhu stood at Government House and began reciting the lyrics of Beneath the Lion Rock, the song that had come to embody the spirit of Hong Kong. His Cantonese, he joked, was not very good, but the feeling was universal.

Then came the words, “… we can all help each other beneath the Lion Rock ...”. At the end, as he walked down from the podium, he suddenly turned and called out: “I love Hong Kong.” The room burst into applause.

For a statesman remembered for his forthright manner, stern expression and reputation for being uncompromising, the scene revealed another side of Zhu. There was warmth beneath the steel, and genuine affection beneath the authority of his office.

Zhu passed away on Aug 12 at the age of 98. He was a formidable political figure who served as mayor and party secretary of Shanghai, vice-premier and, from 1998 to 2003, premier of the State Council. He was closely associated with China’s economic reforms, including the difficult restructuring of State-owned enterprises and the country’s preparation for joining the World Trade Organization (WTO).

For Hong Kong, his legacy carries a particular resonance. Zhu visited Hong Kong four times, in 1990, 1992, 1997 and 2002, each time in a different capacity. Across those visits and numerous public statements, one theme remained remarkably consistent: his confidence in Hong Kong. That confidence was not sentimental. It was rooted in a clear understanding of what made the city distinctive.

When Zhu first came to Hong Kong in 1990 as mayor of Shanghai for a seminar on Shanghai-Hong Kong economic cooperation, a newspaper reporter asked whether his visit would benefit Hong Kong. He responded that the relationship should not be reduced to who gained more. Understanding would lead to friendship, friendship to trust, and trust to cooperation. Cooperation, he stressed, had to benefit both sides.

It was an early expression of a principle that would run through his later comments about the two cities: Shanghai and Hong Kong were not necessarily substitutes. They could be complementary.

A decade later, as China’s economic rise was prompting increasingly frequent predictions that Shanghai would overtake Hong Kong, Zhu remained confident in Hong Kong’s role.

In 2000, responding to an International Monetary Fund assessment that China’s WTO accession could affect Hong Kong’s financial position, Zhu said Shanghai would certainly develop as a major financial center, but could not replace Hong Kong. The world did not have to choose only one financial center, he argued, and China would not have only one either.

That was characteristic of Zhu. He could be direct without being dismissive, and confident without pretending that change was unnecessary.

He understood that Hong Kong’s strengths were not simply its wealth or geographic location. They included its open economy, legal system, professional talent, international connections, and role as a bridge between the Chinese mainland and the global economy.

He also understood that these strengths had to be maintained and developed.

When Zhu returned to Hong Kong as the premier in November 2002, the city was going through one of its most difficult economic periods. The Asian financial crisis had taken its toll. Deflation, unemployment, and fiscal deficits had damaged public confidence. There was widespread anxiety about Hong Kong’s future.

Zhu came with a message of encouragement, but not complacency.

At a welcome dinner at Government House, he spoke frankly about Hong Kong’s fiscal difficulties, even joking about the then-chief executive Tung Chee-hwa being a “deficit chief executive” while describing himself as a “deficit premier”. His humor helped lighten the atmosphere, but his central message was serious.

The means to overcome Hong Kong’s difficulties, he said, were already within Hong Kong’s own system.

Its open economy had not disappeared. Its legal institutions remained strong. Its civil service was efficient. Its business professionals remained capable. Its international connections remained extensive. Hong Kong was still a financial, trading and shipping center.

Its advantages had not been lost.

Zhu urged Hong Kong not to underestimate the difficulties ahead. He called for hard work and a “second entrepreneurship”, and placed particular hope in Hong Kong residents, particularly the younger generation.

That combination of realism and confidence was perhaps the essence of his approach.

He did not tell Hong Kong that there would be no storms. He told Hong Kong that it had the capacity to weather them.

His support was also evident during the Asian financial crisis. When the Hong Kong dollar came under speculative attack, Zhu firmly supported the city’s linked exchange rate system. He understood that confidence is critical to a financial center, and that the central government’s resolve could itself help stabilize that confidence.

His broader view of Hong Kong was equally significant. Zhu repeatedly acknowledged the city’s contribution to the nation’s reform and opening-up, particularly during the 1970s and 1980s. Hong Kong was not simply benefiting from national development. It had played a major role in the mainland’s engagement with the broader world.

That perspective remains worth remembering.

Hong Kong’s relationship with the mainland has never been only about one side helping the other. At its best, it has been about different strengths working together.

Zhu also recognized that Hong Kong needed to adapt. He believed its economic structure would have to evolve as the global economy changed. He encouraged discussion and debate, but also warned against endless deliberation without action.

Yet he never regarded change as a reason for Hong Kong to abandon what made it distinctive.

That is why the image of Zhu reciting Beneath the Lion Rock remains so powerful.

The man known for his toughness stood before Hong Kong and spoke in the language of its residents. He acknowledged that his Cantonese was imperfect, but made clear that affection required no translation.

Then he said four simple words that seemed to surprise even those in the room: “I love Hong Kong.”

For a towering figure in China’s reform era, it was an unusually personal expression of affection for a city he had spent years observing and supporting.

Zhu leaves behind a consequential political legacy in China. In the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, perhaps one part of that legacy can be summed up in the confidence he repeatedly expressed that the city possessed strengths others could not easily replicate, and that its future depended, above all, on its own people having the courage to make the most of them.

As Hong Kong remembers the late former premier, perhaps that is the moment worth remembering.

Not just the stern premier. Not just the formidable reformer, but the statesman standing before Hong Kong, reciting its signature song, and saying simply: “I love Hong Kong.”

The author is chairman of the Asia MarTech Society and sits on the advisory boards of several professional organizations, including two universities.

The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.