Few Chinese people will have even heard about the incident. There followed a near-complete news blackout, except a terse statement saying the pilot had died and 13 people were injured. On July 2nd authorities said he was a 66- year-old man surnamed Liu, who had mental-health problems, and suggested he had taken his own life. Staff in the building, which is known as “China Zun” after a Bronze Age jug that inspired its design, were told not to talk to anyone about the incident. Even online photographs of the building, unrelated to the crash, are reported to have been removed from Chinese social media. The crash was captured on video from a nearby building, but that dramatic footage and any other speculation about it, including discussion of whether the pilot crashed deliberately, have been censored. The small hole made by the plane in the building’s side (pictured) has been covered up and police have cordoned off the area. Light aircraft have reportedly been grounded across the country. Beijing is one of the most tightly secured cities in the world. Street corners bristle with surveillance cameras. Police and plainclothes officers swarm around areas like Tiananmen Square (close to citic Tower). Chinese citizens driving into the capital from other parts of the country usually have to go through security checkpoints. Airspace is especially restricted, with a permanent no-fly zone of 100 sq km over central Beijing. Even buying drones is banned within the city limits, and owners have to register with the police. Flying them is only possible with approval from authorities. China-watchers have been shocked, noting that if a small plane can hit the citic Tower, it would be easy for a drone or a missile to do so, too. That such an event could happen in the heart of Beijing is a “massive security breach”, wrote Bill Bishop, an analyst at Sinocism, a consultancy, on X. This is an “earthquake” in Beijing’s security system, he added. “Not many more seconds of flying and [the crash] could have been at Zhongnanhai”, the leadership compound. The Straits Times, a Singapore newspaper, reported that public flight-tracking data show a Hainan Airlines jet only narrowly avoided colliding with the light aircraft as it flew towards central Beijing. The crash will also have been noticed by developers of one of the Communist Party’s pet projects, the “low-altitude economy” of drones and
self-flying cars. Last year a Chinese company became the first maker of electric vertical take-off and landing (evtol) aircraft to receive a licence to fly passengers commercially. The civil-aviation authority reckons the low- flying economy will reach a turnover of 3.5trn yuan ($515bn) by 2035. But Mr Bishop suggests the crash is unlikely to hurt that nascent industry in the long term, and “may end up being constructive as it forces a regulatory revamp”. Still, the incident is undoubtedly causing consternation in security circles in Beijing. It comes as China’s armed forces and defence ministry are already reeling from a years-long purge aiming to stamp out corruption. Now more officers may lose their jobs. Some analysts are comparing the crash to an incident in 1987, when an amateur West German pilot named Mathias Rust landed his light aircraft in Moscow’s Red Square, exposing the weakness of Soviet air defences. Several high-ranking defence officials lost their jobs as a result. ■ Subscribers can sign up to Drum Tower, our new weekly newsletter, to understand what the world makes of China—and what China makes of the world. This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com//china/2026/07/01/china-hushes-up-a-plane-crash-in-the- heart-of-its-capital
Hong Kong, once a great place to raise and spend money, is halfway back Tighter ties with the mainland have not always helped July 2nd 2026 The ancient Egyptians were cat people. They prized them not just as pets but as predators that could keep snakes, rats and other pests in check. They worshipped a cat goddess, revered as the guardian of the home. They also sacrificed cats, wrapping their bodies in linen before burying them as offerings to the divine. So great was the demand for cats to mummify that temples bred them specially for the purpose. That is one of the things you can learn at the Hong Kong Palace Museum, which is exhibiting mummified cats and other, shinier treasures from ancient Egypt in a blockbuster show that will end in August. The fun is not confined to the museum. In metro stations around the city, you can pose next to
“pharaoh cat”, a cartoonish mascot, and translate your name into hieroglyphs (Chaguan’s name includes two vultures, a jar stand and a quail chick). The plan to build the museum was unveiled almost ten years ago, backed by China’s central government to mark the 20th anniversary of Hong Kong’s “return to the motherland” in 1997. Not everyone was grateful. Back then, many Hong Kongers were confident and irascible enough to point out that no one had asked them if they wanted the gift. Things are different now. The covid-19 pandemic—sandwiched between a spate of anti-government protests and a spell of high interest rates—kneecapped Hong Kong’s economy. Tough new national-security laws also gutted any public opposition to the mainland authorities. Today the city is eager to win any favours it can get from Beijing. The central government has obliged, bestowing other treasures on the city. It has allowed some big mainland companies to list on Hong Kong’s stock market, including catl, a battery-maker, and Zijin Gold, which mines pharaonic tombfuls of precious metals. For the first time since 2019, Hong Kong last year topped the global charts for initial public offerings by value. And, though share prices have since faltered, plenty of firms are still looking to list. Hong Kong is once again a great place to raise money. The city’s tighter ties with the rest of China do have one economic downside: the so-called “Shenzhen effect”. Even as mainland firms flock to Hong Kong to raise money, the city’s residents now rush to the mainland to spend it. Shoppers routinely cross the border to nearby Shenzhen on weekends to enjoy the mainland’s cheaper prices and scrappier retailers. On June 19th over half a million Hong Kongers raced out of the city, rather than staying to enjoy local attractions like the dragon-boat competition in Stanley, on the beachy south side of Hong Kong island. This exodus of customers, as well as the incursion of mainland e-commerce firms eager to grab market share, has stymied Hong Kong’s retail recovery. Shops, restaurants and hotels employed over 630,000 people in 2018. That number has fallen by 22%. Stanley is one sad example. The picturesque village offers watersports, hiking and historic buildings like Murray House, a colonial barracks,
dismantled and moved from central Hong Kong. The village’s other draw is its market, a jumble of 100 shops, shaded by tarpaulins and corrugated plastic, selling leather handbags, Bruce Lee t-shirts, personalised calligraphy and the like. Far removed from Hong Kong’s metro system, Stanley used to be a popular weekend destination, especially for expats. But it is a shadow of its former self. The restaurants that once animated Murray House have died, leaving the neoclassical building with a noteworthy past but no obvious future. The market used to be inconveniently crowded. (“It was a pain,” says one resident.) These days it is ominously easy to navigate. Some shops have shut. One former wine kiosk now houses a bitcoin atm, which swallows banknotes in return for cryptocurrency. Letters to former tenants, including one from the taxman, gather dust behind it. To revive Hong Kong’s fortunes, the government is investing in a range of “experiences” beyond shopping. The Palace Museum is one successful example. Kai Tak stadium, opened in 2025, is another, able to seat 50,000 people on the site of the city’s former airport. It has just hosted i-dle, an all- female Korean pop group, and will soon stage a friendly pre-season football match between Manchester City and Inter Milan. The number of mainlanders visiting Hong Kong so far in 2026 is up by 16% year-on-year, but still 25% below the peak before the protests of 2019. Stanley, like the ancient Egyptians, is putting its faith in cats. When business flagged at Beesy Bay, a local restaurant, it commissioned a mural for the restaurant’s iconic yellow building. The artist, known as LeonLollipop, painted a cat called “Gloomie”, his cheek resting on an upturned paw in what the artist describes as a “pensive pose”. It soon became a popular spot for selfies. After Anson Lo, a Hong Kong pop star, posted a photo of himself mirroring the pose, his fans flocked to the site. The district office has commissioned more cat and dog murals across the village, painted by Art Dreamers, a local group. The aim was to “add some vibrancy to the area”, says Sandy Cheung, the district officer. LeonLollipop was not involved, but he thinks the results are “lovely”. Unfortunately, Gloomie could not save Beesy Bay, which recently closed. But other businesses hope to benefit from an increase in foot traffic. From
July, Hong Kong will allow customers to bring real-life pets to restaurants. Some Stanley establishments have applied for the necessary licence. The city’s retail sales are still far from their peak. But they increased by over 9% in the first four months of 2026, compared with the same period last year. Not long ago Hong Kong was declared dead by some financial commentators, and ready for embalming. But it is now finding a path back from the afterlife, with pensive cats to guide the way. ■ Subscribers to The Economist can sign up to our Opinion newsletter, which brings together the best of our leaders, columns, guest essays and reader correspondence. This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com//china/2026/06/29/hong-kong-once-a-great-place-to-raise- and-spend-money-is-halfway-back
Africa’s new middle class is putting down roots in the suburbs Africans are turning to Starlink Uganda’s volatile army chief goes after the press The next great Middle East rivalry Donald Trump’s hope for a new Middle East is premature
Middle East & Africa | Sprawl for all Africa’s new middle class is putting down roots in the suburbs For a glimpse of the continent’s future, visit the edges of its burgeoning cities July 2nd 2026 BUNJU, ON THE outskirts of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania’s largest city, has many of the hallmarks of a new African suburb. The houses are a mix of finished, half-finished and not-yet-started. Though the government has yet to pave the roads, firms have already moved in. There is an English-language private school, a pet shop, a water park, a gym and a pharmacy. Yet there is still ample evidence of Bunju’s recent past as farmland. Piles of bricks squat in patches of maize. Boys climb palm trees to fetch coconuts to that they sell by the main road.