Examining Freedom of Speech in Hong Kong Through the Jimmy Lai Case

Jimmy Lai, the founder of Apple Daily, endured 156 days of trial under the National Security Law and was preliminarily convicted on December 15, 2025, on multiple charges, including collusion with foreign forces, publishing seditious material, and other conspiracy-related offenses.

The formal sentencing hearing will not take place until January 12, 2026, to determine the length of his imprisonment. Nevertheless, this verdict sends an undeniable signal and warning to Hong Kong residents: freedom of speech in Hong Kong is running out of time.

Freedom of Speech Is Not What It Used to Be

Since Hong Kong’s handover, the SAR government has retained much of the administrative culture and governance practices from the British colonial period. Before the enactment of the National Security Law, freedom of speech in Hong Kong was relatively broad. Media outlets could openly criticize officials, question policies, and publish investigative reports without immediate legal repercussions. Newspapers like Apple Daily thrived on sharp political commentary and incisive editorials; civil society and protest activities also operated within a certain degree of freedom.

Of course, freedom of speech was never absolute. Citizens still had to avoid baseless defamation or personal attacks. Overall, Hong Kong possessed a culture of debate, satire, and investigative reporting. Cartoonists could mock leaders, columnists could challenge policy decisions, and social media offered a relatively open platform for political discussion and engagement. Civil society could organize forums and large-scale peaceful marches, such as the 2003 anti-Article 23 protest that attracted 500,000 participants. The judiciary at the time was relatively independent, so criticizing officials or exposing corruption through the press did not automatically constitute a crime.

However, with the case of Jimmy Lai, the closure of Apple Daily in 2021, and the full implementation of the National Security Law, freedom of speech in Hong Kong has steadily declined. Media professionals, activists, and even ordinary citizens have begun to self-censor, and public discourse has visibly contracted. Hong Kong, once willing to expose wrongdoing, criticize the government, and conduct in-depth investigations, now bears little resemblance to its former self.

The Core Issues of Injustice in the Case

Under the forceful implementation of the National Security Law by the central government, the official narrative around Jimmy Lai has been uniform: “Lai sought foreign sanctions and cooperated with anti-China forces abroad,” “foreign powers glorified Lai’s actions in the name of human rights and freedom,” or “freedom of speech cannot override national security.” There is no room for debate. Nobody wants the police knocking on their door, so people naturally turn a blind eye.

But a closer analysis of the case reveals that these statements mask the deeper injustice of the crackdown on freedom of speech in Hong Kong.

First, the so-called “collusion with foreign forces” is extremely broad and vague. What exactly counts as collusion? Does speaking with foreign media qualify? The law does not clearly define the elements of “collusion,” the threshold of intent, or the degree of actual harm, allowing law enforcement and prosecution to rely heavily on after-the-fact interpretation. Ordinary public actions—such as giving interviews to foreign media, contacting overseas politicians or organizations, or calling international attention to Hong Kong’s situation—can now be reclassified as criminal acts. The core principle of the rule of law is predictability; citizens should clearly know what is legal and what is illegal. When legal boundaries are vague, people cannot adjust their behavior in advance to comply with the law, and lawful speech can be criminalized at any time, violating the fundamental judicial principle of nullum crimen sine lege (“no crime without law”).

Second, the case shows that under the National Security Law, the Chief Executive is allowed to freely select pro-Beijing judges and limit jury participation, clearly deviating from Hong Kong’s common law tradition. This blurs the line between the judiciary and the executive in politically sensitive cases. Even if a judge maintains professional integrity, the perception of independence is equally important. When politically sensitive cases are heard by executive-designated judges, defendants and the public naturally question whether the judiciary is free from political pressure. Once judicial credibility is undermined, rulings themselves are difficult to view as fully impartial, creating structural disadvantages for any defendant.

For instance, the judge stated during the trial that Lai “continued despite knowing the legal risks” and “intended to overthrow the Chinese Communist Party,” even declaring him the mastermind behind the entire conspiracy. The judgment described his use of the newspaper and personal influence as a coordinated propaganda campaign aimed at overthrowing the CCP. When the defense argued that Lai’s activities were within the scope of freedom of expression, the judge responded: “Opposing the government itself is not wrong, but if done in certain improper ways, it is wrong.” The judgment further characterized Lai’s actions as “a threat to Hong Kong and national security,” even claiming that he “sacrificed the interests of China and Hong Kong citizens.” Such politically charged language links speech directly to intent, raising doubts about judicial impartiality.

Additionally, the trial, spanning from 2023 to 2025, lasted 156 days—far beyond the original schedule. Prolonged legal procedures, combined with pre-trial detention or restrictions, caused ongoing psychological, physical, and financial pressure on Lai, particularly severe given his advanced age. His daughter, Claire Lai, stated in multiple media interviews that his health continued to deteriorate in prison, with significant weight loss and physical weakness. His son, Sebastian Lai, publicly appealed to international leaders to monitor his father’s health, fearing he might not have much time left. The prolonged trial itself constitutes an informal punishment, yet the authorities ignore the defendant’s health while asserting that the case is “lawful” and “protecting national security,” framing external criticism as foreign interference. Under this context, dissent is no longer considered part of public discourse but a potential threat, and the defendant’s human rights are irrelevant. Even before sentencing, Lai has suffered tremendous mental and physical trauma, while the prosecution, as an instrument of the state, bears no comparable burden. This asymmetry places the defense at a disadvantage and undermines the practical significance of the presumption of innocence.

Human Rights Betrayed by China

If the central government can crush a media figure simply for expressing opinions, citizens—especially the younger generation—might wish to fight back. But fantasy aside, reality must be acknowledged: Hong Kong will not allow any so-called “rebellion” to occur.

First, with the Sino-British Joint Declaration effectively undermined, the central government is no longer bound to follow the United Nations International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). Analysts have reasonably pointed out that the National Security Law bypasses Hong Kong’s normal legal processes, showing that the city’s once-vaunted rule of law is eroding. Once developments are circumvented in this way, the central government deems it necessary to monitor speech through ad hoc legal measures. From the arrest of activists like Miles Kwan to the prolonged trial of Jimmy Lai, dissatisfaction with policies—whether large or small—is no longer tolerated.

The ICCPR’s Article 19 protects freedom of expression, including political commentary, criticism of the government, press, publications, and international exchanges. Independent media, investigative reporting, and critical journalism are foundational to civil society’s freedom of speech. Article 14 guarantees fair trial rights, encompassing independent and impartial courts, fair bail procedures, public hearings, and the right to full defense. Yet the central government has violated both of these basic provisions. Under the National Security Law, the legal definitions of “seditious acts” and “collusion with foreign forces” are extremely vague, turning normal journalistic and public speech—comments, interviews, and international engagement—into potential criminal acts, producing a severe chilling effect. Such vagueness in law itself constitutes an infringement on freedom of expression.

Similarly, fair trial rights are compromised: judges in national security cases are designated by the Chief Executive, bail thresholds are exceptionally high, trials may occur without a jury, and Beijing retains ultimate interpretation authority. UN human rights experts widely regard political cases subject to executive influence as violating fundamental fair trial standards under international law.

Articles 21 and 22, which protect freedom of assembly and association—including peaceful protests, political organizations, and normal operation of civil groups—have also seen clear regression in Hong Kong. Numerous civil organizations have disbanded, and protests are treated as potential national security risks, with participants possibly facing retrospective criminal liability—a disproportionate and preventive restriction.

UN human rights experts, special rapporteurs, and treaty monitoring committees have repeatedly pointed out that the National Security Law’s broad definitions and implementation methods do not meet the necessity and proportionality standards required under international human rights law. The core issue is not whether the state has the right to maintain security, but whether national security is being used to completely override human rights. Rights are not gifts from the government; they are protections that cannot be arbitrarily revoked. When “national security” becomes an infinitely expandable and unquestionable rationale, rights once guaranteed under the ICCPR cease to exist legally and become political privileges revocable at any time.

How the Central Government Circumvents the ICCPR

China’s ability to bypass the ICCPR is not accidental; it stems from its historical, selective participation in the UN human rights framework. China signed the ICCPR in 1998 but has never ratified it, meaning it has never formally recognized its legal binding force domestically. Under international law, unratified treaties do not create full legal obligations for the state. Moreover, China’s “dualist” legal system requires that international treaties be transformed into domestic law to be enforceable in courts; without this, they cannot be invoked or applied in judicial proceedings.

This design allows China to diplomatically acknowledge human rights values and participate in UN discussions while retaining complete interpretive and enforcement sovereignty domestically. Even though Article 39 of the Basic Law states that the ICCPR continues to apply in Hong Kong, its practical effect is constrained by the National People’s Congress Standing Committee’s ultimate interpretive authority and the constitutional priority of national security. Within this structure, the common law culture and human rights protections inherited from Britain are not outright rejected but are institutionally neutralized. When the central government deems certain rights in conflict with national security, international covenants and local constitutional commitments can be reinterpreted, suspended, or effectively set aside, without immediate international legal consequences.

This institutional reality explains why Jimmy Lai gradually lost legal protection. British-established common law in Hong Kong was founded on limiting power, prioritizing individual rights over the state, and judicial checks on the executive. Article 39 of the Basic Law was intended to lock in this system and the ICCPR so that post-handover Hong Kong residents would retain fundamental freedoms. However, China’s consistent refusal to ratify the ICCPR and insistence that international human rights treaties cannot override national sovereignty allows it, through NPC interpretations and the National Security Law, to nullify the covenant’s substantive force.

Jimmy Lai’s case is a concrete manifestation of this systemic shift. Activities that would have been protected—journalistic work, political commentary, international engagement—are no longer treated as protected civil rights but are redefined as security risks subject to state intervention. With Britain’s rights-centered legal culture powerless to check central authority, and the ICCPR legally unenforceable in China, Lai and all Hong Kong citizens have effectively lost the last line of institutional protection. China does not simply “violate” international human rights law; it uses institutional design and hierarchical restructuring of power to transform Hong Kong citizens’ freedoms and legal protections from inalienable rights into political privileges revocable at will.

Crucially, many Hong Kong citizens fail to recognize that the National Security Law’s revocation of freedom of speech is legally possible precisely because China has never formally recognized the ICCPR. Signing in 1998 without ratification, the ICCPR has never been incorporated into Chinese law, meaning it cannot be directly enforced in courts. Many mistakenly believe that Article 39 of the Basic Law guarantees irrevocable protection, ignoring that its practical effect is constrained by NPC interpretations and the constitutional prioritization of national security. Thus, the National Security Law, deemed to safeguard the country’s fundamental interests, reclassifies freedom of expression not as a right protected by international law but as an exception fully limited for security reasons. This is the harsh reality that citizens still hoping for “protection under international law” have yet to fully grasp.

Lessons from the Jimmy Lai Case

Jimmy Lai’s case transcends individual criminal liability or a single judicial ruling; it symbolizes a systemic transformation in Hong Kong. In a city that was once legally bound by the ICCPR, a media founder has been convicted for his journalistic stance, political commentary, and international engagement. This demonstrates that the National Security Law has effectively reshaped the boundaries of speech and the judiciary. The case reflects not merely a ruling against one defendant but a governance logic that redefines normal civic behavior as a national security risk. Under this logic, press freedom, fair trials, and civil society are no longer institutional cornerstones but variables that can be sacrificed. Lai’s trial marks a clear transition from rights protection to political permission.

In this harsh reality, leaving Hong Kong is not shirking responsibility; it is a rational choice for risk management. When institutional resistance has been criminalized, preserving personal freedom, dignity, and future prospects is often more practical than futile confrontation.

For those choosing to stay in Hong Kong, the priority is not nostalgia or sentiment but a clear-eyed recognition that Hong Kong no longer operates under the system promised by the Sino-British Joint Declaration. The city is fully integrated into China’s political and security governance framework. Within this structure, international support, foreign government statements, or UN mechanisms can offer only limited symbolic effect. This is not “foreign betrayal” but a reflection of international political realities. Residents staying must understand the choice they are making and bear the risks and restrictions of a contracting legal and civil environment.

For those considering emigration, illusions must be discarded. Certain institutional protections and freedoms once present in Hong Kong have effectively vanished and will not return simply because of personal desire. Those who ultimately stay must accept living in a society where speech, organization, and political participation are tightly constrained. For undecided individuals, the Jimmy Lai case is an unavoidable benchmark for careful consideration. It clearly defines the boundaries of systemic risk, and making the decision to leave at this stage is not yet too late.

For Hongkongers already abroad, the next challenge is not only to mourn what Hong Kong has lost but to rebuild life, identity, and future on new soil. Only then can leaving be more than retreat, instead becoming genuine rebirth and forward movement.