Introduction

“Happy mother’s day Madam, even you don’t have your own child bu[t] having us you’re more than a mother in everyone of us. Happy mother’s day madame. Please be safe we LOVE you. Rose rose rose (emojis)”

Jane (pseudonym)

I received this heart-warming note on Mother’s Day; it was one of the many personal messages I have received over the course of my 9 years of work with an organization which supports and advocates for asylum-seekers and refugees (hereafter ASR) in Hong Kong. The organization, referred to here as the Society, was set up in 2014 with the aim of bringing together local residents and ASR, with the two groups co-managing the organization.

The Society’s main activities are related to the provision of basic needs (since ASRs receive a ludicrously low level of support from the Hong Kong government), advocacy through petition and submission to the government, or through public hearings (related to the group’s issues), and the building of mutual support. It is this mutual support that is the focus of this paper. It aims to contribute to the scarce research work done on the private hosting of ASR, such as intercultural communal living in Antwerp (Mahieu & Van Caudenberg, 2020); “buddy” projects in Flanders, Belgium (Vescan et al., 2023); friendship programmes in Australia (Peterie, 2018); and bridge-building programmes in the UK (Harris and Young, 2009). All of these initiatives function through social encounters between locals and ASR, horizontal and collective management and decision-making, as well as mutual support and learning. Through such methods, the Society aims to increase and maintain the independence and confidence of fellow ASR, while promoting community cohesion. I argue that this is an example of solidarity as a day-to-day living practice and suggest that this paper is an essential contribution to the literature, since such forms of solidarity seldom appear in the debates.

In this study, I therefore propose to counter two important limitations to the current literature on solidarities in migration contexts: first, I argue for the study of solidarity as a day-to-day living practice; second, I use the example of the Society to look at solidarity as a form of cross-ethnic solidarity in a local setting that began with a humanitarian act and charity and gradually evolved into solidarity through love and friendship (see also Bejarano & Hernández Sánchez, 2023; Wolf, 2023). This change happens through living in the same neighbourhood and identifying each other not simply through the prism of the Society, but as neighbours in a group. The discussion in this paper departs from previous studies about solidarity developed through activism and instead posits a different kind of solidarity developed through cross-ethnic communityhood (Bejarano & Hernández Sánchez, 2023; Mahieu & Van Caudenberg, 2020; Vescan et al., 2023). My argument, which is based on Durkheim’s concept of solidarity, attempts to contribute to the theorizing of solidarity by (1) looking at cross-ethnic solidarity between the host community and transitory forced migrants as a day-to-day practice and (2) examining solidarity developed through humanitarian and charity approaches in a neighbourhood and community context.

I will first present a brief literature review, examining how solidarity has been explored in migration studies and in studies of social and political movements and struggles. Departing from this trajectory, I will then argue that solidarity, especially cross-ethnic solidarity, exists through day-to-day practice—the affective and emotional aspects that connect people together, that transcend differences of ethnicity, nationality, religion and perhaps positionality—through exploring the notion of ASR and local people being a unit in the neighbourhood. In the second section, I will outline the context of the study: the situation of ASR in Hong Kong, the current laws and policies aimed at managing the group and the consequences of those laws and policies. I will then elucidate on my fieldwork from 2014 to 2020, which included rounds of interviews and data gathered from my participation as the co-founder of the organization. Through this material, I show how solidarity can be built through a community and neighbourhood approach. This form of solidarity, as I shall illustrate, is built through a “local community” or “neighbourhood” concept which can also mitigate the potentially asymmetric relationship between the mainstream community and the asylum-seeking and refugee community.

Literature Review: Solidarity in a Cross-ethnic Context in the Study of Migration

Solidarity is “hotly contested, both as a political value and a practice”, as Tazzioli & Walters (2019, p. 175) have pointed out. Generally, the term carries a connotation of “mutual concern and support” (Baker, Lynch, Cantillon, & Walsh, 2004, p. 52) while it also embodies a sense of “community”, or at times “social cohesion” (Kelliher, 2018, p. 1). The term has a range of meanings, from an intrapersonal feeling of empathy or standing with someone on an issue, to an interpersonal or even a national or global level, which could mean providing support to citizens in need. At the national level, the welfare state can be seen as offering a form of solidarity with its citizens (Kelliher, 2018). At a global level, solidarity may refer to movements which seek political, social and economic justice (Agustín & Jørgensen, 2019; Simpson, 2004). In this study, I aim to explore and operationalize the concept of solidarity, focusing on the intrapersonal, interpersonal, community and neighbourhood levels and on how these levels intersect with each other.

In The Division of Labour in Society, Durkheim (1960 [1893]) draws us into an examination of solidarity as a concept that defines the relationship amongst individuals and their relationship with the society. Durkheim conceptualizes two kinds of solidarity: mechanical solidarity, in which solidarity is created within a group on the basis of sameness, and organic solidarity, which occurs in modern and more advanced societies and is based on interdependence (Ibid.). The Durkheimian definition of the concept offers a clear elucidation of the emotional and affective aspects of “reciprocal sympathy, and responsibility among members of a group which promotes mutual support” (Wilde, 2007, p. 171); the affective and emotional aspects include notions of friendship and love (Wilde, 2007). Banting and Kymlicka (2017, p. 10) refer to solidarity as “attitudes of mutual acceptance, cooperation and support in time of need”. Komter (2005, p. 2) captures the essence of solidarity at its best as “the glue that keeps people together, whether by mutually identifying and sharing certain norms and values, or by contributing to some common good, or both”. Bilecen (2014, p. 93) goes further, defining solidarity as feelings of “belonging, commonality and togetherness. Solidarity also involves empathy and a sense of relatedness”. This is echoed by Baker et al. (2004) and Kelliher (2018) who emphasize the affective and emotional elements of solidarity, a sense of camaraderie, belonging, communityhood and friendship.

In contemporary migration studies, discussions on solidarity mainly focus on solidarity through activism. In Europe, Walters examines the “No Border” camp set up in Strasbourg in July 2002, “which was to be ‘a ten-day laboratory of creative resistance and civil disobedience’” (Walters, 2006, p. 22, citing Alldred, 2003, p. 153). In North America, Nyers (2010) investigates a campaign by Canadians that called for the regularization of non-status refugees and migrants in Canada. And in Hong Kong, studies by Vecchio & Beatson (2014) and Vecchio & Ham (2018) look at resistance by ASR through social movements. All these studies focus on transnational or local solidarity movements in the broader quest for social justice, while solidarity as a day-to-day living practice seldom appears in the discussion of migration, especially irregular migration, because of its transient nature. However, solidarity as a day-to-day living practice is vital to understanding relational aspects between ASR and the host community; it brings us closer to the daily struggles of the group, at the intersections of their citizenship status, gender, age, religion and ethnicity, situated in a specific locale.

Another aspect of solidarity discussed in the literature is the role of humanitarian work. The provision of aid, especially through international humanitarian organizations, has long been questioned and seen as a continuation of unequal power relations between the provider and the receiver (Lau, 2021; Tabar, 2016; Tazzioli & Walters, 2019). Analyzing international humanitarian aid to Palestinians, Tabar (2016) suggests that humanitarianism from the very outset was rooted in two ambivalent notions reflecting and reproducing European racism and imperialist hegemonies. Charity is actually a self-serving act of the giver, in which the receiver has no voice. Lau’s (2021) findings suggest that most asylum-seekers and refugees feel that mainstream NGOs are generally advancing their own agenda rather than working for the benefit of ASR.

In this paper, I posit that humanitarianism could blur the divide and break down the mistrust between the mainstream population and the marginalized asylum-seeking community. In other words, while the initial humanitarian act could be a manifestation of unequal power relations, if the benefactors could reach out and extend the initial act of charity into one of friendship, then unequal, postcolonial relations could be mitigated. Extending the arguments made by Rozakou (2017), who demonstrates that the boundary between humanitarianism and solidarity fades, Vandevoordt (2019, p. 247) suggests that “all humanitarian actions are subversive”. Pointing out the repressive element of humanitarianism as it reduces the receivers “into bodies that need to be fed, cared for or represented by others” (p.246), Vandevoordt (2019) posits that “humanitarianism is subversive because [b]y providing aid to anyone in need, rather than to members of specific political, ethnic, or religious communities, humanitarians create a state of exception in which particular subjectivities are temporarily replaced with a universalist notion of a shared humanity.”(p.247) To Vandevoordt (2019), that form of subversive humanitarianism would better begin in civil initiatives (like grassroots organizations) because it is less constrained by the idea of neutrality and other bureaucracies.

In the discussion of solidarities amongst subaltern communities or marginalized groups, scholars and activists practise what Hunt-Hendrix (2018) has advocated: finding common ground through diversity, or as Hunt-Hendrix (Ibid., para.4) puts it, “finding commonality in differences”. Using Featherstone’s (2012) idea, Agustín & Jørgensen (2019, p.199) define what solidarity means in the contemporary migration context: that the sense of community needs to be expanded “beyond national borders but without having anything to do with nation-states’ own interests”. Studies by Bejarano and Sanchez (2023), Mahieu & Van Caudenberg (2020) and Wolf (2023) have all pointed to the possibility of intercultural communal living and sharing that could cultivate bonds of friendship and love which open up the possibility of solidarity. Through day-to-day interactions and humanitarian actions, and the affective response towards injustice and maltreatment of the marginalized group, that solidarity could be further developed and strengthened.

Context: Situation of Asylum-Seekers and Refugees in Hong Kong

Despite its refugee history (see Fig. 1), Hong Kong never signed the United Nations 1951 Refugee Convention, even though both Britain and China are both signatories, nor did it sign the 1967 Protocol. In other words, Hong Kong has no legal obligation to help resettle ASR inside Hong Kong.

Fig. 1
figure 1

Historical overview of Hong Kong’s role as a shelter for refugees. Source: Chan (2011), Fong et al. (2019) and O’Connor (2019)

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In 1992, Hong Kong did become a signatory to the United Nations Convention Against Torture (UNCAT), whereby each state party agrees to make torture or such actions punishable. Moreover, Article 3, sections 1 and 2, states that (1) no State Party shall expel, return (“refouler”) or extradite a person to another state where there are substantial grounds for believing that he would be in danger of being subjected to torture; (2) for the purpose of determining whether there are such grounds, the competent authorities shall take into account all relevant considerations including, where applicable, the existence in the state concerned of a consistent pattern of gross, flagrant or mass violations of human rights. Under the terms of UNCAT, Hong Kong must process the claims of the asylum-seekers and house them until their cases have been decided.

Since 2000—when Hong Kong closed its last camp for Vietnamese refugees, granted residency to more than 1000 of the remaining Vietnamese, and removed Part IIIA of the Immigration Ordinance 5—Hong Kong has not “explicitly referred to refugees or other similar categories of claimants seeking protection from refoulement” (Loper, 2010, p. 411). Until early 2014, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) worked in parallel with the Hong Kong Immigration Department: the former was responsible for handling refugee claims, whereas the latter was responsible for processing torture claims. Following two high-profile judgments by the Court of Final Appeal in December 2012 and March 2013, in 2014, the government introduced a new system called the Unified Screening Mechanism (USM) that attempted to assess applications on all claims that were previously conducted by UNHCR and the Immigration Department separately. The USM is, in principle, intended to enhance the efficiency and effectiveness of the assessment process and to avoid errors and discrepancies in judgments. In practice, however, the move has been seen by some as compromising fairness and accuracy for the sake of efficiency (Ng, 2020).

Asylum-seekers living in Hong Kong are not confined in a closed camp, but they are one of the most vulnerable groups in society and their lives are generally hard (Ng, 2020). The government claims that they do not want to make Hong Kong a “magnet” for ASR; there is therefore no policy to accommodate them, lest they become too “comfortable” and want to remain in Hong Kong (Ibid). In other words, the government has deliberately implemented a policy of social exclusion in order to discourage refugees from remaining in the territory (Loper, 2013). Yet it is estimated that there are currently about 14,000 ASR in Hong Kong. They depend on a meagre subsistence allowance from the government (Ng, 2020). Each claimant receives around HKD 3000 per month for rent, plus HKD 750 for a child; each claimant also receives around HKD 300 for electricity and water, and HKD 1200 for food, to be bought in designated supermarkets. Only basic food like fish, vegetables, rice and milk are covered by this scheme. These various allowances do not take the form of cash; they are either paid directly to the end recipient (landlord, utility company etc.) or paid out using a smartcard. Recognized refugees have the discretionary right to work, but asylum-seekers have no right to work, which means that most asylum-seekers live in a state of destitution. Asylum-seeking children, who are born de jure stateless, are required to seek permission from the government to go to school. While they receive subsidies for studying, from kindergarten to secondary schools, the parents often have to pay first and claim reimbursements later from the school. As a result, ASR frequently end up “borrowing money” from NGOs, churches and friends to make ends meet. For NGOs and churches, they don’t need to return the money, but for friends, they may. Their precarity is further aggravated by the fear of detention and subsequent refoulement to their own countries. Since December 7, 2022, unsubstantiated claimants (asylum-seekers) whose cases were rejected in the Court of First Instance (CFI) have been liable for refoulement at the discretion of immigration officers.

What makes asylum-seekers particularly vulnerable is that their plight is not temporary or short term, but could last for a decade or two. Under the old system, as Mathews (2014) discovered, it might take the UNHCR and the Hong Kong government 6 years or more to determine an asylum-seeker’s case. If the case failed with either of these two institutions, the asylum-seeker could apply to the other one, taking another several years. With the new USM in place, as I have found during my research, it might take 2 years for a case to be decided and if there is an appeal to the High Court, it might take another 2 to 4 years for the case to be finally determined. ASR in Hong Kong, unlike those depicted in the European and U.S. contexts, who are likely to have more transitory experiences, have lived in Hong Kong for a long time. This makes their case particularly distinctive. Studying the bonds of solidarity they establish amongst themselves and with the local community becomes invaluable in contributing to an understanding of cross-ethnic solidarity in a local community context.

Research Context, Research Methods and Design

The NGO studied in this article (which I refer to as the Society) was formed against the backdrop of a generally unwelcome environment to refugees and a hostile government. It was established to support the different needs of ASR. Members of the NGO come from different countries including Bangladesh, the Philippines, Indonesia, India, Pakistan, Nigeria and Nepal. The chairman of the Society is himself a former asylum-seeker from Pakistan and experienced in advocacy and managing the kind of issues regularly encountered by ASR. He had previously worked as a vice-chairman in another refugee-led organization. He was one of the core activists involved in the 2014 sit-in protest in the city (Vecchio & Ham, 2018). When I met the chairman, he was working with the founder of the organization that staged the sit-in protest, helping to support ASR in negotiating their cases with case officers from ISS (International Social Service, an international NGO which was (and still is) subcontracted by the Hong Kong government to provide support for ASR in Hong Kong), immigration officers and the police, as well as meeting with ASR and providing them with essentials when they asked for help. Knowing that local people’s assistance is vital in mediating conflicts between ASR and the local bureaucracy, negotiating and explaining the difficult situation of the ASR, the chairman invited me to work with him. After several meetings, I started following his advocacy activities. In the ensuing months, there was some dissension over the running of a course for ASR advocacy. The chairman understood that without citizenship and legal status, advocacy was risky: the participation of ASR in protests and sit-ins could trigger prosecutions for which they had little support. At this point, the chairman and some other ASR decided to set up their own organization. This allowed them to focus on their vision of supporting the daily needs of the group, including interactions with the local authorities, and to regain control of their own agenda. That was when the chairman asked if I could help, and I willingly accepted his invitation. I accepted the invitation because I thought it was a good cause and knowing so much about the group, I thought that was the least I could do for the group.

As soon as my students at the university got wind of my work with the ASR, a few came to my office and asked if there was anything they could do. I invited them to join the group. We formed a “student partnership” scheme in 2014 to facilitate the work needed to establish the Society. In those early days, there was a clear division of labour: the chairman, who speaks many South Asian languages and could liaise with the ASR; myself, who knows the bureaucratic systems in Hong Kong and the languages used in town; and the students, who were familiar with the latest technology and design, and some of whom knew how to register and manage a society properly, through their internships and part-time work. Together, we formed a complementary team that helped to shape the early stage of the Society’s work. Student partners soon became involved in co-managing the Society. A committee was formed, comprising the chairman and three asylum-seekers working as vice-chairmen (two), a secretary (an asylum-seeker), a treasurer (a Hong Kong student) and two other executive committee members (Hong Kong students). As the Society evolved, and a number of the executive members left or moved, a decision was made with all members to involve more Hong Kongers at the committee level to facilitate relations with local people, liaising with local government groups and coordinating with sponsors and donors in obtaining material donations.

There are two other refugee-led organizations that support asylum-seekers and refugees in Hong Kong (Cheng, 2022, Vecchio and Ham 2018). While we all work on all issues related to ASR in Hong Kong, what sets our organization apart is the fact it was co-founded by a refugee and a local. We believe that it is important to have locals co-managing the Society as this facilitates inter-group understanding. At the same time, the chairman’s background and experiences provide a source of trust for members. Another element that sets the Society apart from the other two organizations is that we are based in a locale populated by ASR. Instead of coordinating ASR from different parts of Hong Kong, the members of our Society are all living close to where the organization is located—in a walled village. The development of neighbourhood relationships will be closely analyzed in this paper.

The Society was established while I was (and still am) living in a walled village, in suburban/rural Hong Kong. There was (and still is) a sizable asylum-seeker and refugee population. In 2014, there were around 2000 ASR in the area, which represented about 10% of the total of almost 19,000 non-refoulement claimants in Hong Kong (Legco, 2022). They live in this area because of the affordable rent. The office of the Society was first based at the chairman’s home, the first floor of an old, downtrodden village house that he shared with two other asylum-seekers. When the house was taken back by the landlady for renovation, the office moved to my home. Members live close by, and it takes only a 15 to 20-min bus ride for members living in the town nearby to get to the office. Currently, the Society is supporting around 800 non-refoulement claimants, and 70 to 80 families attend our regular events. They come to the office (my home) for help on legal issues, gatherings, meetings and the weekly playgroup and also for help with studying (see Table 1). They sometimes initiate gatherings in my home, and we also cook together for our gatherings and parties. Since the “office” of the Society is in a home, it feels less structured and organized. It seems that this “informality” makes the members more relaxed and comfortable.

Table 1 Main activities organized by the organization
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The decision-making processes of the Society are mainly conducted through app-based instant messaging. Some suggestions are made through discussions with the committee members, which are then passed on to the members through the WhatsApp group. Members then voice their opinions, and decisions are finalized through a yes/no vote. Members can also make suggestions or voice their opinions on other issues through the WhatsApp group, where discussions take place.

For 10 years, the Society has been supported by different local organizations and individuals who share our vision vis-à-vis the group. These organizations regularly donate food, electrical appliances, clothes and other essentials. At the time of the research, I was responsible for buying diapers and baby formula and providing transportation for ASR activities. The attention of the media on the problems faced by ASR living in Hong Kong was instrumental in increasing donations from many individuals and organizations. Word of mouth between friends and colleagues also helped. These sources of support have enabled the Society to run smoothly.

Unlike other NGOs, which adopt a service provider–client relationship approach, the Society uses a “community” approach to connect with its members. Defined by Mason (2000, p. 21) as “a group of people who share a range of values, a way of life, identify with the group and its practices and recognize each other as members of that group”, the community formed by the Society aims to encourage mutual support and recognition of each other’s value in the organization. The Society may provide support and meet material needs of the members, but the members also provide help to each other and support the Society, not only by advising on how the volunteers should organize events, but also by assisting individual volunteers in times of need, as we shall illustrate in the findings and discussion.

This paper is based on research conducted between 2014 and 2020. During that time, I was working with the Society as a co-founder and volunteer. The paper is part of three research projects which examine the group and their lives in Hong Kong and assess the quality of life of ASR. The research involves participant observations (through working with the group), interviews and discourse analysis. A total of 50 members were interviewed—four male and 46 female—from India, Bangladesh, Indonesia and the Philippines. Questions were asked regarding (1) their lives in Hong Kong, (2) their opinion of the support they receive and (3) how they identify themselves in terms of belonging in Hong Kong. Participant observation was conducted during activities, and notes were kept during and after events, with codes to protect interviewees’ privacy. Thematic analysis was then used to analyze the fieldnotes and the interviews. Interviewee names used in this paper are pseudonyms to conceal their real identity. Participants who took part in interviews have been with the organization for between 3 and 7 years. Over half of them joined when the Society was first established. All of the interviewees are considered regular members of the Society, by which I mean that they take part in all the regular events and festive events of the organization, make use of the playgroup for their children etc.

As the co-founder of the organization, I understood that issuing direct invitations to individual members could cause discomfort. We therefore sent a message out to the group, asking if anyone would be interested in participating. For those who responded, I then followed up with the interviews. Participant observations were used to verify information collected through interviews.

Findings and Discussion

Data obtained through my work with the group and interviews with the participants highlighted several important aspects in the forging of cross-ethnic solidarity between locals and ASR. I have identified three major elements that support an alternative perspective in looking at cross-ethnic solidarity and networks in a local space. They are (1) establishing solidarity of a cross-ethnic community based on a neighbourhood unit, in a suburban/rural setting; (2) establishing relationships through a recognition of need—a humanitarian approach in the production of long-term mutual care within the network; and (3) solidarity as a day-to-day living practice, such as solidarity through the playgroups as peer-support groups. These elements help to establish an alternative perspective of cross-ethnic solidarity that builds upon communityhood, a day-to-day living practice.

Establishing Solidarity of a Cross-ethnic Community Based on a Neighbourhood Unit in a Suburban/Rural Setting

The Society was established through a network of locals and ASR within a particular neighbourhood “space”. The members came to the Society because we are close geographically and it was easy for them to get support from us. At the same time, because the members live so close to each other, they could support one another in different ways. The neighbourhood, based on geographical proximity, forms a unit of mutual support. Existing members recommend ASR who live close by to come to us. We are literally “kaifong”, a Cantonese word synonymous with the English term “neighbours”. They call me for help on issues related to their immigration status, and they also visit me socially from time to time. They help each other to look after their children and support each other when there is an emergency. For example, when members of our group are in the hospital, either because of ill health or for the delivery of babies, others will bring food and offer help with childcare. Members frequently attend activities organized by the Society, and even some of those who live farther away will regularly attend the activities organized by the group.

The organization was formed within a particular space, and it was that space which defined the group itself, that “throwntogetherness” of the ASR and local people within a relational context. Massey (2005) defines throwntogetherness as follows: “[t]he chance of space may set us down next to the unexpected neighbour” (Massey, 2005, p. 151). The chairman, myself and the members are not simply “service-providers” and “clients”: we were and still are neighbours, living in a village which used to be the exclusive domain of the Indigenous inhabitants who, as a result of commoditization, now rent out their houses to outsiders like asylum-seekers, and to people like me, city dwellers living there for work purposes or cheap rent. That proximity of the Society’s location to the members not only makes it convenient for them to seek support, but also includes a relational aspect that helps define the Society. It is a community which supports each other and goes beyond an association or a bureaucratic organization which interreacts on a purely “contractual basis” (Mason, 2000, p. 20). Mason (Ibid., p. 21) suggests that community involves four different elements: “sharing values, a way of life, identifying with the group and its practices and recognizing each other as members of the group”. The members do not necessarily need to share one culture in the sense of the rituals or beliefs of a particular ethnic or racial group.

Using community in the form of a neighbourhood can be a way to bridge divides in a cross-ethnic context. A community might be seen as a unit that effectively transcends ethno-religious and citizenship differences, as long as its members recognize each other as neighbours. In the case of the Society, the co-management by ASR and locals provides balance in what could potentially be a hierarchical relationship. The members in this group are not just passive recipients of services: they are part of a community who support each other. Millner’s (2011) study of the “No Border” solidarity movement shows how activists see their “privilege” of having legal status that sets the divide from the refugees who have no status in the movement, and how they emphasize the sameness that they are human instead of the difference. In our Society, having an idea of communityhood and living in the same neighbourhood facilitates the feeling that we all belong to one community and deepens our relationships. These findings support the argument of Baker et al. (2004), Bilecen (2014) and Kelliher (2008) that solidarity is about friendship, togetherness and belonging.

Establishing Cross-ethnic Relationships Through a Recognition of Need: A Humanitarian Approach in the Production of Long-Term Mutual Care Within the Network

The second major element identified by the study is the recognition of the needs of others and the provision of immediate and effective assistance, which form the first step in establishing a relationship that is firmly built on trust (Bejarano & Hernández Sánchez, 2023; Peterie, 2018).

Humanitarian action, in the local context, can serve as an ice-breaking step to bridge the divide between the host community and the ASR community. While providing support begins as an act of unequal power relations, the dynamics between the groups can change over time. Charity does not have to be seen as an act that silences the other when that charity is a response to the needs of the other. Providing service, helping in times of need, recognizing that need and giving emergency support can instead help to establish an initial conversation and relationship with the group. This is also a way to show care to the ASR community.

My ethnographic data and interviews with the members indicate that they built up their trust in the Society through the works and the material support the Society offered. They came to the Society because they needed help with a range of different things, from material needs to help mediating conflicts with various government departments, as well as filling in forms for judicial reviews and filing written submissions at no charge. The Society might prioritize its work based on members’ needs at a particular period of time. For example, during the first year of the Society’s establishment, members sought help in finding schools because a number of the children were not able to enter the kindergarten. The Society then organized a playgroup and invited an English teacher to teach the children English. This playgroup has become much more than a playgroup. It is a weekly gathering of members, a time for sharing fun and having conversations with each other, which is an effective means of community building (Harris & Young, 2009; Wolf, 2023). Studies on ASR group support show that the act of continuous humanitarian support turns into mutual care, an affective aspect that opens the avenue for solidarity (Bejarano & Hernández Sánchez, 2023; Peterie, 2018; Wolf, 2023).

Interviewees agree that support from NGOs or charitable organizations like churches is extremely important. They all think that NGOs help pull them through difficult situations, especially when they are not allowed to work in Hong Kong. Contrary to Tabar’s (2016) findings on the work of international humanitarian organizations and Lau’s (2021) discussions of mainstream NGOs, interviews for this research show that ASR are grateful for the help and support they receive from some of the humanitarian organizations and would be happy to receive more, since Hong Kong is so expensive. Their experiences with other NGOs or churches are mixed. While some of the interviewees expressed dismay over their experiences, others said they were pleased with the help they had received from NGOs and churches. Yet, as much as the ASR appreciate the support these organizations provide, such support does not always translate into solidarity. This is largely because support is very often seen simply as an act of benevolence, unless the NGOs themselves become actively engaged in developing relationships and friendships with the ASR.

Alice, who has been with the Society since its inception, told us in her interview how the ongoing material assistance and other services have helped her through difficult times and have deepened her trust and sense of belonging with the Society over the years. In Alice’s words:

“You were with us [herself and her family] when we needed help. You gave us the things that we most need for years. And you always come to our help and [stand] by our sides. We cannot see ourselves trusting others. You are my friend and my family here” (personal interview #15).

Participant observations and interviews suggest that solidarity-based charity work from below (like community or grassroot organizations) may help navigate the complexity and challenges that ethnic-religious and citizenship differences entail, as long as the organization in question begins with recognizing the group as a community (Rozakou, 2017; Vandevoordt, 2019). In her study of Calais’s “No Borders” solidarity movement, Millner (2011) notes that while there are misgivings about charity and humanitarian work as a way to forge solidarity, they do offer an opportunity for humanity and friendship to grow. Unequal power relations may be mitigated when the relationship goes beyond givers and receivers. As Jennifer, who has been with the Society for 6 years, says:

“If you did not help me and my daughters and help me in finding schools and giving me Pampers and baby formula, I don’t think I could survive for so long. I am grateful to the time when I was in trouble” (personal interview #11).

Establishing solidarity requires the host community to be proactive in not just initiating, but also maintaining this relationship, reaching out to the group to build something beyond a giver/receiver modus operandi. Smith (1997) also demonstrates that community and grassroots play a key role in removing barriers between the local people and the marginalized group and in nurturing inter-group interactions. This brings us to the last of our three elements, the notion that solidarity should also be seen beyond movements, and should be theorized from a living, day-to-day perspective.

Solidarity as a Day-to-Day Living Practice, Through Playgroups and Events

Interviews and participant observations undertaken during this research indicate that the members’ relationships with the Society go beyond the recipient/provider model. Apart from the weekly playgroup where the mothers and children can gather to meet and have fun, and alongside the monthly distribution of diapers and milk, the members will also invite each other and student partners and me to their kids’ birthday parties. We also gather for dinner at my place or have barbecues in my yard. During playgroup and festive events, members, student partners and I all join together to distribute materials, ensure things run smoothly and clean up afterwards. And if anyone or any family is sick, we will visit and see what we can do to support them. They also call me from time to time to see if I am fine, since I was once very sick, lying alone at home. They were so shocked and asked why I had not called them; in fact, I was too sick to call anyone at that time. After that, different members would take turns to call me from time to time to check if I was OK.

Interviews showed that the participants identify themselves as a member of the “group”, with frequent use of the terms “our group”, “our community” and “we” in their response to being asked whether NGO support is important and where they feel they belong. While some do not identify themselves as Hong Kongers, when I posed questions regarding belonging in general, they identified the Society as their community. In the words of 40-year-old Sarah, who joined the society in 2015:

“We have social life inside the playgroup, we like playgroup. Because this is our community, we understand each other, we know... you know… our talks, we know our smell, you know, we will communicate. If you put us in another group, they will look down on us. If we are in the group, we are happy, wearing just like that (looking and pointing at her clothes), or sometimes we don’t shower, we are very happy like that” (personal interview #1).

Janice, who has been with the Society for 6 years, also told us how she felt the Society is “her people”.

“You, the Society, is our community. We meet friends and other people. We really love it. The playgroup is great. We meet the teacher and other people. We can see friends” (personal interview #4).

These findings chime with the work of Mason (2000) and De Angelis (2003) on how marginalized individuals develop a sense of belonging and identify with the group. The members sought mutual aid and human exchange in the playgroup and in the activities the Society organized. The Society has a WhatsApp group called “playgroup”; this extended virtual community allows all of the members and volunteers to post information, such as recent news on government policies on ASR, support and playgroup activities and events. It has become a genuine community-based resource, where members will post photos of buggies, clothes, toys and other items that they no longer use and can offer to other members who might need them. They also post information on flats which are available for rent, for the benefit of members who need accommodation.

Through the years of activities, especially the weekly playgroup, we have evolved from simply talking about rights and sharing updated information about Hong Kong government policy, to much deeper discussions about family and personal issues. For example, when they noticed that I was down because of the political instability in Hong Kong, they even said:

“Don’t worry too much about what is going to happen in Hong Kong; if Hong Kong gets worse and if we need to leave, you can come with us. We can stay together. You can build a school and our kids could study in your school and we could live close to each other”.

That conversation, and several others that envision a life together, is an expression of what Atshan & Moore (2014) describe as “reciprocal solidarity”, which has developed within a community (in this case, the Society) or, in Atshan and Moore’s term, “the space of friendship” (p. 680). It transcends the simple goal-oriented form of solidarity, commonly found in organizing social movements, to embody a more day-to-day living practice. In the words of Wilde (2007): “Solidarity is associated with love and friendship, essentially private matters which individuals should be left to work out for themselves” (Wilde, 2007, p. 171, citing Baker et al., 2004, p. 28).

While I have witnessed the solidarity that has been implanted within the community and that we have built together by establishing relationships on the basis of day-to-day life, there is no better example of that solidarity than what happened during the COVID-19 pandemic. Hong Kong, which is known for its affluence and its advanced medical system, suddenly found itself caught in a quagmire, with problems coming from all directions, including inadequate supplies of face masks, a lack of space in hospitals, insufficient medical professionals and the government’s refusal to close the border, which ran the risk of attracting large numbers of people crossing from China and potentially overwhelming the medical system in Hong Kong.

While I was among the lucky few that had face masks in my home, from preparations for travelling, most of the people in Hong Kong were left with few or no masks, especially since the pandemic started during the Chinese New Year, when most of the shops and manufacturers were on holiday. Realizing that our members might not have enough masks, we tried searching on the internet to purchase masks from overseas. We found that there were lots of masks available in Indonesia; one of the volunteers asked us to contact Society members who are Indonesian to see if we could order through them. When we asked our members, two mothers volunteered to help purchase the masks through their networks. At the same time, other local NGOs and individuals who knew us kept calling us and telling us that they might be able to get masks from Macau and Taiwan. We were lucky: with the help of the members, we finally managed to get around 200 boxes of masks from Indonesia just in time, and masks from other sources gradually came in as well. We also shared our supply of masks with the local community. That cross-ethnic solidarity was built, first and foremost, on charity and realizing each other’s need, especially those in our group regarded as the most vulnerable, but it was also built on the help of those same, supposedly vulnerable members, who served as an indispensable force to provide us with the first batch of masks, enough for each family to get a box before other masks began arriving, and enabling us to pass some to the local community as well. The relationship here is not unequal; the relationship is communal, a joint effort to pull resources together to overcome a crisis.

Very often, solidarity is linked to forming alliances, especially in social justice movements (Atshan & Moore, 2014; Millner, 2011; Walters, 2006). Solidarity has rarely been discussed in a day-to-day, living-practice context. Incidents like the collection of masks during the pandemic not only brought groups of different people together, but also show that ASR, who are marginalized and often treated as invisible, are working with the local people on an equal footing. With local people reaching out to support the group, and with the group helping to access the masks, that cross-ethnic solidarity is built on a community basis.

Conclusion

In this paper, I have examined how a cross-ethnic solidarity is forged through friendship, support and advocacy in the midst of an oppressive and discriminatory regime against ASR. This case of a local NGO in Hong Kong that serves the ASR community challenges the widespread notion of cross-ethnic solidarity which suggests that it is transient by nature and can only be formed through organized movements. Because of the distinctive nature of ASR in Hong Kong, this form of solidarity is built through the proactive involvement of the host community in establishing a relationship with ASR, beginning with a goodwill gesture in the form of providing support to the group through which a cross-ethnic trust is established. The growth of the community, situated within a neighbourhood and a particular locale, helps mitigate the initially unequal power relations between the local community and the group. The idea of “communityhood” focuses on each member being a member of the community, regardless of their ethnicity, race and citizenship status, thus reconfiguring the space into a connected, cross-ethnic community rather than a divided space of “us” and “them”.

This study has demonstrated that in Hong Kong, under the current hostile and xenophobic atmosphere which is backed by an increasingly authoritarian regime, resistance against exclusionary space through the formation of an inclusive cross-ethnic solidarity is still possible. Just as Cheng (2022, p. 130) describes a group of ASR who try to create “conviviality” while together in the “shadow of state violence”, our case study shows that the feeling of “we are with you” is a culmination of all the histories and experiences we share together: the activities we enjoy together, the conversations we explore together and the sharing of personal problems and stories. This form of solidarity is the result of day-to-day living practice that establishes friendship, mutual love and care and makes lives easier and more tolerable.

The paper is an original research paper and the work described has not been published before; it is not under consideration for publication anywhere else.