When Guangdong-registered private cars were finally allowed to drive into Hong Kong last month, the public reaction was swift and predictable. Headlines warned of congestion. Social media fretted over unfamiliar drivers, dark-tinted windows, and minor traffic violations. A handful of early mishaps were quickly elevated into proof that the policy was a “mistake”.

This response says more about Hong Kong’s anxieties than about the policy itself.

The Southbound Travel for Guangdong Vehicles arrangement is not just another transport policy. It completes a long-awaited equation. After years of the Northbound Travel for Hong Kong Vehicles program, cross-border mobility has, at last, become a two-way street. That alone marks a significant shift in how the Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macao Greater Bay Area is meant to function. Yet the conversation has so far been stuck at ground level, obsessing over waiting in line and parking instead of asking a more important question. What kind of city does Hong Kong want to be in an era of regional integration?

Every major policy experiences friction at birth. The early days of this program have produced some familiar scenes: long lines at licensing offices; drivers struggling to adapt to left-hand traffic; vehicles failing to meet local standards. None of this is surprising. Any city that has ever hosted overseas drivers knows that adjustment takes time. Hong Kong drivers face similar challenges when they rent cars abroad, showing far less familiarity with the roads than the locals.

What is troubling is not the existence of teething problems, but how quickly they are framed as “existential threats”. A few incidents are portrayed as evidence that traffic order is “collapsing” or road safety is entering a “dark age”. This kind of exaggeration often reflects something deeper than concern for safety. It reflects discomfort with integration itself, an instinctive resistance to change that masks itself as technical critique.

Rejecting a long-term policy because of early imperfections is the policy equivalent of refusing surgery because the recovery is uncomfortable.

From an economic perspective, the logic behind allowing Guangdong cars into Hong Kong is straightforward. Self-driving visitors are not day-trippers rushing to catch the last train. They tend to stay longer, move around more freely, and spend more. Many come from middle-income or higher-income households. This is not speculative theory. It is already visible in how shopping malls and commercial districts have responded, rolling out parking incentives, charging facilities, and targeted promotions.

Hong Kong’s retail, dining, and hospitality sectors are still recovering from years of disruption. Stable, repeat visitors matter more than headline tourist numbers. A family that drives in, stays overnight, dines locally, and shops across districts contributes far more than a hurried visit confined to a single area. If “Hong Kong cars driving north” could reshape consumption patterns across the border, it would be strange to assume the reverse would not hold true.

Integration works best when it feels ordinary. The ultimate success of this program will not be measured by press releases, but by word of mouth. Hong Kong residents know this well. Much of the northbound consumption boom was driven not by official promotion, but by friends telling friends where to go and what worked smoothly

Yet economic benefit is only part of the story. The deeper significance lies in governance.

This policy forces Hong Kong and Guangdong to confront issues that have long been discussed in theory but rarely tested in practice. How do two systems align traffic rules, insurance arrangements, emergency handling, and data sharing? How do regulatory standards converge without compromising local autonomy? These are not inconveniences. They are the mechanics of integration.

Real integration does not happen through slogans. It happens through spreadsheets, protocols, and operational coordination. In that sense, this program is not a tourism initiative. It is a governance experiment.

That is also where legitimate criticism should be directed. Information delivery remains outdated. Mainland drivers do not plan their trips by browsing government websites. They rely on apps and miniprograms. Expecting them to hunt through static pages for critical information is unrealistic. A single, integrated digital platform that covers regulations, routes, charging locations, and payments would do more for safety than any number of warning statements.

Infrastructure issues deserve attention as well. Charging facilities are manageable. Payment systems are not. Many car parks and automated facilities still rely on Octopus cards or local license plate recognition systems that do not read mainland plates. These are not symbolic problems. They are practical barriers that can turn a smooth visit into a frustrating one.

Quota design also deserves a rethink. A lottery system may work for leisure travelers, but it does not serve business users, conference attendees, or short-notice visitors. Mobility should support different purposes, not just tourism. If cross-border driving is meant to mirror the convenience Hong Kong drivers enjoy when heading north, flexibility must eventually replace novelty.

The biggest concern, of course, is traffic pressure. This is where data should replace speculation. How many vehicles enter which districts, at what times, and with what impact? How often are traffic rules violated, and how does that compare with local norms? These are measurable questions. They should guide policy adjustments, quota expansion, or restraint. Until such data is published, arguments on either side remain ideological rather than empirical.

Integration works best when it feels ordinary. The ultimate success of this program will not be measured by press releases, but by word of mouth. Hong Kong residents know this well. Much of the northbound consumption boom was driven not by official promotion, but by friends telling friends where to go and what worked smoothly.

The same dynamic applies here. The goal should be simple. Make the first wave of southbound drivers feel welcome, informed, and unburdened by unnecessary friction. If their experience is positive, the policy will market itself. If it is not, no amount of messaging will save it.

This is only the beginning. Problems will surface. They should be fixed, not amplified. The bigger picture is clear. Movement in both directions leads to balance. Balance leads to a healthier consumption ecosystem. And integration, when handled with competence rather than fear, creates opportunities that far outweigh the inconvenience of early adjustment.

Hong Kong has never thrived by standing still. The question is not whether there will be traffic. The question is whether we are prepared to manage change with confidence, data, and perspective.

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.