Call of the Walls: Flowers have replaced Kowloon Walled City’s darkness, yet a sense of loss lingers
An ancient fortress turned 20th-century urban aberration, the now-demolished Kowloon Walled City has acquired almost dystopian cult status as Hong Kongers look back. The distaste once held for this tiny, unruly hotspot of crime and poverty – a city of darkness – has been replaced in some minds by pride for a shared and distinct past. Beautified into an oasis of calm within the bustling Kowloon City district, the ground upon which the walls once stood remains a tourist attraction, but one of a very different kind.
Kowloon Walled City began life as an Imperial Chinese military outpost and evolved into a unique geopolitical anomaly. Originally built in the Song dynasty (960–1279) to manage the salt trade, the walled compound nestled in the heart of Kowloon was seen as a defender of colonial encroachment after Hong Kong Island was ceded to the British in 1842.
After the 1898 Convention for the Extension of Hong Kong Territory, Britain leased the New Territories but excluded the walled city, leaving it in a legal limbo – claimed by both China and Britain, but governed by neither. This ambiguity laid the groundwork for what would become one of the most densely populated and lawless urban settlements in modern history.
Rise of the Darkness
By the mid-20th century, Kowloon Walled City had morphed into a vertical labyrinth of interconnected buildings. With no formal oversight, residents constructed haphazard extensions, often without regard for safety or sanitation. At its peak in the late 1980s, it housed an estimated 35,000-plus people in just 2.6 hectares, resulting in a population density of more than 1.2 million per square kilometre.
The locale became infamous for its lack of regulation. Triad gangs controlled much of the area, and illegal activities such as gambling, prostitution and drug trafficking flourished. A US newspaper reported in 1967 that the “area is neither walled nor is it a city… In reality it is a tiny enclave of sin and filth”.
Yet, despite its reputation, the walled city was also a place of resilience. Families lived side by side, children played on rooftops, and small businesses thrived in the shadows, producing everything from fish balls to plastic toys.
Life Inside the Maze
Navigating Kowloon Walled City was like entering another world. Narrow alleyways, often only shoulder-width, twisted through the complex. Electrical wires dangled overhead, sewage dripped from ceilings, and sunlight barely penetrated the dense architecture. Yet, within this chaos, a sense of community prevailed.
Its impoverished residents described the compound as a place of mutual support. Neighbours helped each other, shared meals, and created informal networks of care. Despite the lack of formal infrastructure, there were dentists, doctors, schools and even temples operating within the maze.
One postman who worked there for more than a decade recalled being shocked – literally – by exposed wires while delivering mail. He also remembered rats the size of cats, yet he spoke fondly of the friendships and camaraderie that defined daily life.
Walls Come Tumbling Down
The boundaries of the original walled city included cannons, a gate and watchtowers. This fortified barrier did not survive the Second World War. It was torn down by the Japanese forces occupying Hong Kong, who used the stone for a runway extension at nearby Kai Tak airport.
By the 1980s, the Hong Kong government, in agreement with China, decided that the walled city had to go. The decision was met with mixed emotions. For some, it was a chance to escape the squalor; for others, it meant the loss of a tight-knit community. Demolition began in March 1993 and was completed by April 1994. The process involved relocating thousands of residents and compensating property owners. It was one of the most complex urban clearance operations in Hong Kong’s history.
From Chaos to Calm
In December 1995, the site was reborn as Kowloon Walled City Park, a tranquil green space that pays homage to its chaotic predecessor. Designed in the style of a Jiangnan garden, the park features winding paths, lotus ponds and traditional Chinese pavilions. It’s a stark contrast to the dense, anarchic city that once stood there.
Several historical artifacts were preserved, including the original yamen building – the administrative office of the Qing officials – and remnants of the southern gate. These serve as quiet reminders of the site’s layered past.
Redevelopment and Renewal
Today, Kowloon City is undergoing a new wave of transformation. The Urban Renewal Authority (URA) has launched multiple redevelopment projects aimed at revitalising ageing neighbourhoods while preserving cultural heritage.
One of the most ambitious involves the redevelopment of low- to mid-rise buildings dating back more than 55 years along Ma Tau Wai Road and Lok Shan Road. The initiative began in August last year and will integrate modern urban planning with community needs, promising improved connectivity, pedestrian-friendly spaces and enhanced infrastructure. The project will yield more than 230 new flats and commercial spaces, with completion expected by 2033.
The redevelopment also includes plans for an underground shopping street, improved access to To Kwa Wan MTR station, and shared vehicular routes to minimise traffic disruption. The URA emphasises a “planning-led, district-based” approach, aiming to create a more liveable and sustainable urban environment.
Memory vs Modernity
The transformation of Kowloon Walled City into a park and the surrounding redevelopment projects reflect Hong Kong’s broader struggle between preserving memory and embracing modernity. While the lawless enclave is gone, its legacy lives on in photographs, documentaries, and the stories of former residents.
Whether realistically or romantically, the walled city spirit has also been captured in a succession of popular Hong Kong movies, including last year’s Best Film, Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In. This award-winning adaptation of the manhua (Chinese-language comic) City of Darkness focuses on crime lords operating within the city walls in the 1980s. The gangster movie Long Arm of the Law (1984) was shot inside the walled city during this period, and Jackie Chan’s Crime Story, filmed in 1993, includes scenes of actual building explosions during the enclave’s demolition.
Internationally, Jean-Claude Van Damme entered the walled city for a martial arts tournament in Bloodsport (1988), and its reputation for shady lawlessness entered the pages of spy fiction, courtesy of Jason Bourne (Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Supremacy, penned in 1986). For a factual account of the walled city’s woes, Christian missionary Jackie Pullinger described encounters with resident drug addicts in her 1989 memoir, Crack in the Wall.
Tale of Two Cities
Architects and urban historians continue to study the walled city as a case of organic urbanism – where necessity, not regulation, shaped the built environment. It’s a reminder that cities are not just collections of buildings, but living organisms shaped by the people who inhabit them.
Kowloon Walled City was a paradox: chaotic yet communal, lawless yet lively. Its demolition marked the end of an era, but its essence endures in the park that replaced it and the memories of those who called it home.
As Kowloon City continues to evolve, the challenge lies in balancing development with remembrance. The new city may be cleaner, safer and more efficient, but the old city, in all its gritty glory, remains unforgettable.
