Elephant Diet Vol.5: the Wang Fuk Court Fire Edition
- Kat
- Dec 21, 2025
- 11 min read
Kat, reporting from Hong Kong —
On the afternoon of November 26, I suddenly received messages from friends:
“There seems to be a fire in Tai Po.” “It looks serious—the smoke is already rising above the rooftops.”
At first, none of us imagined that the fire would spread so rapidly, or spiral so completely out of control. As more and more videos circulated on social media, many people from the mainland China began paying attention to Tai Po—normally a quiet seaside corner far removed from Hong Kong’s bustling urban core. By nightfall, not only had the fire failed to subside, but it had spread from one block to several.
Restless, unable to tear myself away from the devouring flames on my screen, I refreshed news updates again and again, desperately hoping to see the words “the fire has been brought under control.” Shocked and suffocated by grief, countless people—myself included—struggled to comprehend how such a catastrophic disaster could occur in a place as highly developed as Hong Kong.
I hesitated over whether to go to the scene and write something. My hesitation had nothing to do with distance or time, but with the most basic principles of journalistic ethics. In what capacity would I approach the victims or their families? Would I truly be helping them—or merely chasing “viral traffic”?
I eventually arrived at a park near the burned-out Wang Fuk Court. People were there mourning the victims. Earlier, on a nearby platform, volunteers had gathered, spontaneously organizing logistics and distributing relief supplies. Without any top-down coordination, an orderly system had taken shape on its own.
If you were there in person, you could feel their emotions as clearly and intensely as the scorched smell that hits you the moment you step off at Tai Po Market Station. Faced with people like this, I simply couldn’t bring myself to raise my camera.
An elderly woman, barely able to stand and supported by others, seemed to cry out to a police officer on duty:
“Lives—so many lives!”
During this time, media outlets of all sizes from across China had already arrived on the scene. Cameras were set up, lenses trained on buildings reduced to charred skeletons—and on hopes that had collapsed with them. Some outlets captured the footage they needed, rushed to meet deadlines, filed their reports, and left with unused material still on hand. Others stayed on, continuing to document residents’ spontaneous relief efforts and the subsequent demands for accountability, which have played a crucial role.
Acting quickly, I proposed in our group chat that we compile a series of reports on the Hong Kong fire using an “Elephant Diet” approach, breaking an overwhelming story into smaller, digestible parts.
Once I let go of my identity as a reporter and participated simply as a person, a great deal of psychological burden was lifted. Together with my colleagues, I did what little I could to help the victims. The dolls I left in the park for the departed little lives were soon submerged beneath withered and vivid flowers, along with numerous handwritten notes filled with grief, anger, and pity.
Biyi’s Dish —
By Guyu Lab(谷雨实验室)
Three weeks after the Hong Kong fire, constrained by censorship and reporting restrictions, there have been few in-depth reports from mainland news agencies or independent media. This piece by Guyu is one of the few long-form articles from an independent outlet. The author contacted ten social service organizations in Hong Kong and spoke with five busy social workers during breaks in their schedules.
The flames have been extinguished, but the long journey of grief has just begun. Hong Kong’s social service agencies sprang into action immediately after the fire, providing free psychological support and funeral assistance to the victims. Chen Muning, director of hospice services at the Hong Kong Sheng Kung Hui Welfare Council, was on her twelfth consecutive day of work. She needed to confront the deaths of many elderly and children and the sorrow of their families, while concealing her own feelings. Occasionally, after finishing work and returning home, she would still cry silently. “The sudden loss of life touches every one of us, in reality.”
Chen Muning and her social worker colleagues were stationed at the community hall in Tai Po, offering free emotional support and accompanying families in need through the process of identifying the bodies. “What we really want is to lessen the impact of this event on the entire family,” she told me. For the families, identifying the bodies is the most difficult step.
Beyond grief, the social workers also observed that one of the most common emotions after the fire was guilt. On the day of the fire, a man received a final call for help from an elderly relative. The relative was old and had limited mobility. He told them, “Find a place to take shelter first, firefighters and ambulances will arrive soon.” But the fire later became too intense, and the relative did not live to see the rescue arrive.
Many of the bereaved would later constantly replay their last conversations with their families in their minds, also burdened by guilt—wondering why they couldn’t have gotten their loved ones out of the fire.
Usually, every December, various festive celebrations in Hong Kong would gradually begin. A few days ago, a pastor asked social worker Liang Zidun whether they should still go caroling on the streets this year. A kindergarten principal also inquired if they should still hold the Christmas party. At this moment of sorrow, joyful celebration seems inappropriate. Citizens worry—would it make others think I’m being gleeful or indifferent?
Liang Zidun believes these activities should continue, but their theme should shift from “joy and happiness” to “peace” and “comfort.” He feels that in the face of such significant trauma, the best way to heal is to connect with one another. “Only by re-establishing connections can those in grief find solace.”
Joyce’s Dish —
Voices from Survivors and a Question Awaiting an Answer
A collection of quality reports and articles from Reuters, BBC Chinese, renowned Chinese independent journalist Chai Jing and Jiemian, a Chinese news outlet that “serves the independent thinkers only.”
Bending forward against the backdrop of burning buildings, an elderly man, arms outstretched, appears to let out a cry of desperation.
The anguished image of Mr. Wong, whose wife was trapped inside at the time, captured by Reuters photographer Tyrone Siu, has become one of the most powerful yet helpless visuals from Hong Kong’s deadliest fire in decades.
The missing wife is not the only source of Wong’s despair. As a retired foreman in building maintenance, he was aware of the safety hazards associated with the complex’s renovation. He even replaced the styrofoam boards with fire-retardant plastic film, as his son told Reuters. “Despite knowing the risks, no matter what he did, he couldn’t change what happened.” Wong’s son told Reuters. We don’t know the whereabouts of Wong’s wife yet.
The fire in Tai Po, Hong Kong, killed at least 160. Among them, at least 10 are foreign domestic helpers from Indonesia and Philippine – home to nearly 370,000 foreign domestic workers in Hong Kong.
Domestic workers are an unique and integral part of Hong Kong. They left their countries to work abroad to support families back home while also propping up hundreds of thousands of households in the bustling metropolis.
Yet the fire spared no one, not even those from one of the most vulnerable groups.
BBC Chinese spoke with a friend of a late Indonesian domestic helper, who was left in devastated, and visited her family back in Indonesia. Her husband recounted the heartbreaking last words the mother spoke to their son via video call while holding her employer’s child in her arms during the blaze.
Those who narrowly escaped had no time to mourn; they had to continue working, burdened with deep trauma from what they experienced. BBC Chinese recorded one such survivor, a domestic worker, who expressed her struggles.
This trauma extends to all survivors, including Mr. Lee. In a video interview with renowned Chinese independent journalist Chai Jing, he recounted the the harrowing two hours he spent trapped in the fire, battling choking smoke, searing heat, and the internal turmoil of not being able to save his neighbors.
Throughout his conversation with Chai, Mr. Lee managed to keep his emotions in check—until he began to think about his neighbors, with whom he grew up and shared his life, now lost overnight.
“The whole floor of people were all ‘lost contact.’ Not alive or dead, they disappeared all of sudden.” He recalled through tears. “I’ve been thinking about them all the time.”
“All I can think now is, ‘Tell me, why did the fire happen?’” Mr. Lee asked.
All Hong Kongers are awaiting the answer.
A week of the inferno broke out on November 26, HK’s Chief Executive John Lee designated designated an “independent committee” of judges to investigate the cause of the fire. However, unlike a “Commission of Inquiry,” this committee lacks legal authority and cannot compel witnesses to testify or submit evidence, as clarified by BBC Chinese.
A preliminary investigation by Hong Kong authorities suggests that the construction project involved the deliberate use of non-compliant, non-fire-resistant materials, Chief Secretary Eric Chen mentioned during a media briefing on December 5.
As of the media briefing, Hong Kong police had arrested six individuals associated with the contractor responsible for fire safety installations in connection with the Tai Po fire, suspected of making false statements, and an additional 15 people on manslaughter charges.
The full investigation is expected to take three to four weeks, the police said on November 28, meaning they aim to conclude by Boxing Day at the latest. All eyes will be on who will—and should—be held accountable for this tragedy that has thrust an already scarred city into further trauma.
Who would be guilty?
A 2022 investigative book by Peter Apps revealed how 72 people, including 18 children, were killed in another high-rise inferno in London in 2017 — not just by the fire itself, but by an indifferent, deregulated government that allowed greedy corporations to disregard the safety of powerless residents.
“The institutional framework creates a breeding ground for fires, while the social structure determines who gets burned,” wrote the Chinese news outlet Jiemian in a review of Apps’ book, Show Me the Bodies: How We Let Grenfell Happen.
“A fire is not just a physical event; it serves as a mirror, reflecting the choices society makes -- what it neglects, and who is allowed to bear the consequences.” Jiemian added.
Lily’s Dish —
By Initium Media (端传媒), an independent Chinese-language news outlet known for its deep dives and thought-provoking long reads.
Fire at Hong Kong’s Tai Po Wang Fuk Court has ignited heated debate on Chinese social media, particularly around the city’s widespread use of bamboo scaffolding in construction. While the exact cause of the blaze remains under investigation, many mainland netizens quickly shifted focus to bamboo scaffolding, labeling it as “outdated” and “unsafe” compared to metal scaffolding commonly used in mainland. Some went further, accusing local bamboo scaffolding associations of acting like “feudal guilds”, or even “gangs”that resist modernization, only to protect their own interests.
This narrative, which places sole blame on bamboo structures, rapidly became the dominant, if not exclusive, explanation for the fire in simplified Chinese social media circles. Many people have tied the tragedy to Hong Kong’s socioeconomic system, claiming it reflects the city’s “lack of socialist transformation” and the persistence of “feudal remnants”.
The readiness to embrace such claims reveals a gap in public understanding of Hong Kong’s social ecosystems. It also aligns with several pervasive narratives in mainland discourse, such as the belief in “China’s technological superiority” and the view that traditional industries or social organizations focused on labor rights or environmental protection are “obstacles to progress”, which must be phased out for national development.
The debate soon evolved beyond technical or safety discussions into a clash of identities and political narratives. Bamboo scaffolding has become a symbolic battleground, which, for some mainland residents, it represents Hong Kong’s “decline”, while for many in Hong Kong, it embodies local identity and resistance to homogenization. As noted by the mainland economic commentator Sisyphus Comments (西西弗评论), the underlying tension lies in whether the fire is seen as a result of “Hong Kong not being like the mainland” or of “Hong Kong becoming more like the mainland”.
A growing concern among observers is that the focus on bamboo scaffolding may be deflecting people’s attention from deeper systemic issues. Architect Ho Ping Tak urged the public and authorities to look beyond the symbolic debate and address actual problems including gaps in risk management, material standards, construction quality, and regulatory enforcement.
Kat’s Dish —
By Initium Media (端传媒), an independent Chinese-language news outlet known for its deep dives and thought-provoking long reads.
This article from Initium Media documents how, in the immediate aftermath of the fire, civil groups and individuals rapidly organized spontaneous mutual-aid efforts.
In the three days and nights following the disaster, beyond the official rescue and resettlement system, an informal mutual-aid network built by ordinary citizens quickly took shape. The open platform at Kwong Fuk Estate in Tai Po gradually evolved into a highly organized grassroots supply hub—though it was later ordered to be cleared by the authorities. Residents voluntarily set up food stations, clothing stations, daily necessities stations, bedding and mattress areas, first-aid posts, and emotional-support booths.
Beyond physical spaces, online coordination became another critical front. After discovering that online missing-persons spreadsheets were crashing under massive traffic, a software engineer quickly developed a web app titled “Wang Fuk Court Safe Check-In.” The platform integrated data by marking apartments, floors, and buildings as “safe” or “seeking help,” flagging trapped pets and complex cases, and linking to maps of supplies and support.
One line appears repeatedly throughout the article: “I don’t know if I’m actually helping.”
Many volunteers understood clearly that supplies cannot bring the dead back to life, and that collaboration cannot substitute for institutional accountability. Their efforts were, more than anything else, responses of conscience and emotion.
Wang Fuk Court Fire: A Look at Removals, Arrests, and Summonses (收準確情報遇不可抗力因素 KOL不再評大火 下架、被捕、約談事件盤點)
By The CollectiveHK (集誌社), a HK-based independent online news platform focusing on in-depth public interest reports.
This article from The Collective examines the pressure faced by media outlets, KOLs, and public commentators who spoke out about the fire.
The Wang Fuk Court fire was not merely a tragic accident. It exposed deep-seated issues in Hong Kong society—public safety, building regulation, and government transparency.
While the swift, spontaneous mobilization of civil society demonstrated remarkable social cohesion, it could not fully compensate for structural and institutional failures. The post-fire controversies surrounding bamboo scaffolding and alleged “black-box operations” further highlighted the urgent need for reform in public safety governance.
In response, some individuals launched a petition outlining “Four-Key Demands,” including the establishment of an independent commission of inquiry and accountability for government officials, but one organizer was subsequently arrested by the National Security Police. Once again, authorities warned the public against “using a disaster to stir up trouble” and “fanning chaos in the aftermath of tragedy.”
All of this seems to point to a sobering reality: the space for Hong Kong’s civil society is steadily shrinking. As the article “No, Hong Kong’s Governance Is Not Becoming Like China’s. It’s Actually Worse” argues, neither democratic accountability nor authoritarian oversight now functions effectively in Hong Kong.
On December 12th, Hong Kong’s Chief Executive, John Lee, announced that a detailed report on the fire will be submitted within 9 months. Still, we don’t know how “transparent” the investigative process could be, and we’re not sure if we’ll ever see the day when the truth gets exposed.
The journey of inquiry and healing will continue for a long time. As ordinary outsiders, among the few things we can help with, we hope that the in-depth coverage we have found from the Chinese-speaking world can offer you—who also care deeply about this fire—at least some new perspectives and reflections.
Thank you and see you next time,
The Elephant Room team
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