Locking Up The Hong Kong Press

Apple Daily journalists hold freshly-printed copies of the newspaper's last edition. [AFP / Daniel Suen ] — *Apple Daily* journalists hold freshly-printed copies of the newspaper's last edition. [AFP / Daniel Suen ]

It is hard to pinpoint exactly when Hong Kong ceased being the city it claimed to be – a global financial hub where the rule of law prevailed and rights and freedoms were generally respected – and became something else entirely.

In 2019, an estimated million people – almost one in seven residents – took to the streets in response to a proposed extradition bill that would have allowed suspected criminals to be sent to mainland China. The prospect of being charged with a crime at the whims of Beijing alarmed Hong Kongers, many of whom had previously been apathetic to politics and came out to protest for the first time in their lives.

But the government refused to give in, and its increasingly harsh and violent crackdown on demonstrators stoked public anger. A city that was known for its stability and safety was suddenly rocked by weekly clashes between protesters and police, who acted with increasing impunity.

In June 2020, Beijing bypassed Hong Kong’s legislature and passed the national security law, effectively criminalizing dissent in a city that had once prided itself as a bastion of free speech. The chilling effect was immediate.

Overnight, shops and restaurants tore down pro-democracy posters. People deleted social media posts or made their accounts private. But at the time, it was unclear how the law would affect the city. It was so vaguely written that no one knew what exactly could be construed as an offense, but the punishments (which included life imprisonment) were severe enough that no one wanted to find out.

A year in, the law’s impact has, in fact, been devastating.

Last week, the city’s most popular pro-democracy newspaper, Apple Daily, shut down after 26 years of operation. Its founder, Jimmy Lai, was already in prison on national security charges, but when the police raided the offices (for the second time), arrested the editor-in-chief and four other executives and froze the paper’s accounts, the publication could no longer survive.

For its last edition, the paper decided to print a million copies. People began lining up at newsstands before the delivery trucks even arrived. Lines continued to stretch around the city throughout the day before the copies finally sold out.

Apple Daily was complicated and flawed. As a kid, I remember seeing the graphic and salacious images on its front pages: traffic accidents, suicides and invasive paparazzi shots that seemed to flout common decency. It was often embroiled in scandals and had paid out hundreds of thousands of dollars in libel suits. Yet it also published hard-hitting investigations into corruption and social issues. The publication stood out because it explicitly supported the pro-democracy movement, criticized authorities and took a stance against authoritarianism.

Throughout the Hong Kong pro-democracy movement, buying or handing out copies of Apple Daily became an act of resistance itself. To watch the publication shut down, in short, is to witness the demise of Hong Kong’s freedom of press itself.

But what is almost as disheartening is how, despite the broad public support of the pro-democracy movement, there is no shortage of people willing to defend or justify the city’s rapid descent into authoritarianism.

When the government announced last week that the secretary of security would be promoted to the city’s second-highest post, and that the police commissioner would take his place, activists warned that Hong Kong was turning into a police state. In response, pro-Beijing lawmaker Alice Mak declared: “If it’s a police state, why not? I don’t think there’s any problem with a police state.”

The too common, flippant acceptance of authoritarianism has made me realize the fragility of the institutions that hold societies together and keep them free, fair and transparent. And it’s an important reminder that societies must maintain a constant vigilance to uphold the rule of law.

In January, Hong Kong authorities arrested over 50 activists for their involvement in informal primary elections, which the pro-democracy camp had organized to maximize their chances of winning a majority in the legislature. (The elections never happened; the government has postponed them twice and announced a major overhaul of the electoral system.)

I spoke to former law professor Benny Tai, the mastermind behind the primaries, a few months before his arrest. He drove me to a quiet, unassuming temple by the sea. It had been one of his favorite spots to run to, but he had stopped exercising outdoors after his wife grew too worried that he’d be targeted and attacked.

After it became clear that advancing democracy through the legislature wasn’t possible, Tai, who co-founded the 2014 Occupy Central movement, began a new initiative: the Hong Kong Rule of Law Rebirth Project.

“I would say with the introduction of the national security law, Hong Kong's rule of law is dead,” Tai told me, adding that it was now entirely out of Hong Kongers’ hands. But for now, he wants to focus his energies on education, in order to help build a society that understands and values the rule of law.

“If most people answer that the most important purpose of the law is for order, then I don't think that’s a very healthy situation because the law can be used by the authorities to suppress different views, because order can override everything,” he said. “But if you have a lot of people emphasizing that the law is for justice, then people's rights will have to be protected by the law.”

Our conversation made me think about what happens when societies fail to foster a culture of rule of law and justice. It made me wonder how much that had to do with the global rise of populist leaders like Donald Trump and Jair Bolsonaro. And it reminded me just how difficult it is for humans to achieve and maintain democracy.

Along with 47 others, Tai was charged with “conspiracy to commit subversion” in February. He has been in detention since then.

But I don’t doubt that he still believes in Hong Kong’s democratic future. Before the protests broke out in 2019, Tai said: “If the struggle for democracy in Hong Kong is a long battle, what is a few months or years in prison if I can gain more resilience for the future struggle? Democracy is never cheap. We need to be willing to pay the price.”