Earlier this month, the Chinese edition of The Hong Konger: Jimmy Lai’s Extraordinary Struggle for Freedom—written by former Next Digital director Mark L. Clifford—was officially released. The book reveals details of Jimmy Lai’s first two years in Stanley Prison. As Lai has become perhaps the most important political prisoner in contemporary China, the biography serves as a counterweight to the state’s attempt to silence Hong Kong’s history. Over the past three decades, Hong Kong society has gone through multiple stages in its struggle for democracy. Yet in today’s bleak climate, one wonders how much impact a biography can truly make.
China’s Most Feared Critic
Jimmy Lai has always stood at the forefront during moments of historical upheaval—from his humble beginnings as a child laborer, to founding fashion chain Giordano, to creating Next Magazine and Apple Daily. His confrontational and tabloid style—bloody images, sensational headlines, even invasions of privacy—was disdained by many professional journalists. Yet he forced the media back to the center of public debate, speaking too much, too bluntly, making himself Beijing’s prime target.
A billionaire with ample means to leave, Lai could have accepted offers of asylum abroad. Instead, he stayed in Hong Kong, sharing umbrellas with young protesters, chanting for freedom in the streets. Even if one disapproves of his editorial choices, it is hard not to respect that decision.
Detained nearly four years without conviction, Lai reminded a judge last year: “I have broken no law, yet I have been jailed for four years.” He insisted protest must remain lawful—otherwise arrest would make further resistance impossible. But since the imposition of the National Security Law, even lawful dissent has become futile. When speaking one’s mind alone can lead to imprisonment, it signals not just one man’s tragedy but an entire era’s alarm.
From Resistance to Repression
The 2019 protests marked the most explosive outpouring of anger in decades—storming the Legislative Council, full-page ads in international newspapers, lawmakers hurling objects inside chambers. Beijing responded with sweeping repression. In 2020, the National Security Law gave authorities powerful tools to silence dissent, ensnaring Lai among others. Today, the most outspoken activists are either jailed or exiled.
The Diaspora and Symbolic Democracy
Harsh repression has driven many to flee. Some have resettled abroad, even forming a symbolic “Hong Kong Parliament.” Its first election in June drew just over 15,000 votes worldwide. Yet days after an online oath-taking, Hong Kong police branded the group “subversive” and issued bounties for 19 overseas organizers and legislators. The U.K., U.S., and Australia condemned what they called transnational repression.
Still, for exiled leaders and commentators, their impact remains limited. Figures like Simon Cheng, Sang Pu, and others keep international attention alive through online platforms, but without roots at home, their efforts resemble floating duckweed—visible but weightless.
Acceptance and Silence at Home
Inside Hong Kong, protest has largely disappeared. Elder statesmen such as Martin Lee and Cardinal Joseph Zen rarely speak publicly, and even if they did, few would respond. Younger leaders—Joshua Wong, Benny Tai, “Long Hair” Leung Kwok-hung—remain behind bars. Supporters of democracy now keep silent, distrusting even one another. Some quietly follow exiled commentators online, but their silence signals resignation.
Acceptance that Hong Kong has undergone a “second handover” may have become a prerequisite for survival. The surge of cross-border shopping in the Greater Bay Area suggests many locals are adjusting priorities away from politics toward daily life.
The Vanishing Future
Since 2020, civil society has collapsed: parties and groups from Demosistō to the Civic Party to the Teachers’ Union have disbanded. Dozens of democrats face charges in the “47 primaries case.” Activist Agnes Chow, released from prison in 2021, has since fled to Canada, vowing never to return.
On the eve of the 23rd anniversary of the handover, Beijing declared the National Security Law a “second return” to the motherland. But in practice, it extinguished hopes of a democratic return. Candlelight vigils are banned, Lunar New Year fair stalls for politicians have vanished, demonstrations are crushed, opposition leaders imprisoned. Political awakening across generations is being erased.
No one knows how many of Hong Kong’s 7 million residents truly welcome Beijing’s grip. But tens of thousands once marched, starting from the 2014 Umbrella Movement through the 2019 protests. Whether supported or not, Beijing undeniably crushed them. As this turbulent decade closes, the dream of a freer Hong Kong has dimmed. Perhaps the only remaining hope lies in preserving inner freedom of thought—however constrained the external environment. That faint light may be all that endures.