Hong Kong’s Fading Freedoms – A City in Transition Under Beijing’s Grip

Every 6 months the UK Government report to Parliament, to update on China's implementation of this UN-registered agreement, The Sino-British Joint Declaration, signed in 1984, promising Hong Kong a high degree of autonomy after its 1997 handover to China. The H2 2024 report has just been released noting China's continuation toward "One country, One system," eroding Hong Kong's autonomy.

For decades, Hong Kong’s Victoria Park glowed with tens of thousands of candles every June 4th, in a vigil commemorating Beijing’s 1989 Tiananmen Square crackdown. Today that annual gathering is extinguished – the vigil is banned and the park is patrolled by police on that date . It is a potent symbol of how Hong Kong’s once-vibrant civil liberties have been systematically stifled. A city that not long ago enjoyed one of Asia’s freest environments is now firmly under Beijing’s tightening grip, its freedoms fading fast.

This dramatic shift was not supposed to happen so soon. When Britain handed Hong Kong back to China in 1997, Beijing promised to preserve Hong Kong’s autonomy and way of life for 50 years under a “one country, two systems” framework. For a time, Hong Kong maintained a high degree of freedom and remained a distinct enclave of civil rights and rule of law. But in recent years – especially following tumultuous pro-democracy protests in 2019 – China’s central government has aggressively reasserted control. Beijing has tightened its grip on the territory, dimming hopes that the global financial hub will ever become a full democracy. The result is a city in transition: once a bastion of free expression in the Chinese world, Hong Kong is being remade in Beijing’s authoritarian image.

The turning point came in 2020. In the wake of the massive 2019 protests, Beijing imposed a sweeping National Security Law (NSL) on Hong Kong without local consultation. The law criminalized broad offenses – secession, subversion, terrorism, and “collusion with foreign forces” – and gave authorities expansive new powers to punish critics and silence dissenters. Overnight, acts of speech and protest that had been legal became fraught with peril. Beijing justified the crackdown as necessary to restore stability after the unrest of 2019. Indeed, open dissent on Hong Kong’s streets has largely vanished. But that “stability” has come at the cost of the core freedoms that once set Hong Kong apart.

Under the NSL’s shadow, fundamental rights have been sharply curtailed. The UK government observes that Hong Kong’s civil and political systems “no longer reflect China’s commitments” under the 1984 Joint Declaration – the NSL’s implementation has led to the curtailment of fundamental freedoms such as speech, press, assembly, and association. Peaceful rallies that were a fixture of Hong Kong life – from annual democracy marches to the Tiananmen vigil – are now prohibited or heavily policed. Media that once probed the powerful have been muzzled. Opposition politicians have been jailed or exiled. The promise of “Hong Kong people running Hong Kong,” with a high degree of autonomy until 2047, lies in tatters.

Beijing’s defenders insist the crackdown has “brought stability” and that Hong Kong remains open for business. It is true that daily life for apolitical citizens continues, and Hong Kong’s role as a financial center endures for now. The city’s capitalist system and currency remain distinct from mainland China’s, and Hong Kong still ranks among the world’s top financial hubs . But the climate of fear and conformity is slowly eroding the dynamism that underpinned Hong Kong’s success. Even commerce and investment could suffer as the rule of law – long a pillar of Hong Kong’s economy – comes into question.

Since 2020, authorities have moved swiftly to silence the voices of dissent. Opposition lawmakers and activists have been the primary targets. In a single stroke, the NSL decapitated Hong Kong’s pro-democracy movement: on one morning in January 2021, police rounded up 55 prominent opposition figures for “subversion” – their alleged crime was organizing an unofficial primary election to field pro-democracy candidates. Their marathon trial concluded in 2024 with heavy sentences. In November 2024, forty-five of these politicians and activists – known collectively as the “NSL 47” – were convicted of conspiracy to subvert the government and received prison terms ranging from four to ten years. The idea that participating in a democratic primary could be deemed a national security offense, punishable by years in prison, underscores how drastically Hong Kong’s legal landscape has changed.

Other high-profile figures have met similar fates. Jimmy Lai, the septuagenarian founder of the outspoken Apple Daily newspaper, sits in prison. His media empire was crushed: Apple Daily, long a pro-democracy tabloid, was forced to shut down in 2021 after its assets were frozen and its staff arrested. Lai, a British National (Overseas) passport holder and once one of Hong Kong’s most outspoken tycoons, now faces the prospect of life behind bars for charges of “collusion with foreign forces.” International calls for his release have so far fallen on deaf ears.

Independent media and civil society have been effectively neutered. In August 2024, two editors of the now-defunct online outlet Stand News were convicted of “conspiracy to publish seditious publications” – essentially, for doing their jobs as journalists. They were handed prison sentences (one received 21 months) for publishing articles and commentary critical of the authorities. The verdict sent a clear warning to what remains of Hong Kong’s press: even without directly invoking the NSL, colonial-era sedition laws can and will be used to punish media work deemed too critical. Journalism is not a crime, yet in today’s Hong Kong it can certainly lead to jail. Major independent newsrooms have been dismantled – Apple Daily and Stand News among them – and a chilling effect blankets those outlets that remain. Hundreds of civil society groups, from pro-democracy political parties to human rights NGOs and student unions, have disbanded under pressure or out of fear.

Meanwhile, ordinary citizens have learned to watch their words.  Slogans, songs, and even social media posts can be deemed crimes. A mere T-shirt can land someone in prison. In September 2024, a 23-year-old man was sentenced to 14 months in jail for wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the protest slogan “Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our times” . A court ruled that this popular slogan – ubiquitous during the 2019 protests – constituted sedition because it might incite hatred of the government. In another case, a protester received 10 months for scribbling similar slogans on a public bus. The message to the public is unmistakable: gestures of dissent, however symbolic or small, will not be tolerated. Big Brother is watching, even what you wear or write in graffiti.

Freedoms once taken for granted have vanished. The streets that hosted massive marches of up to a million people in 2019 are now devoid of protests; police no longer face crowds of banner-waving citizens, only the occasional solo demonstrator whom they swiftly arrest. The landmark June 4th candlelight vigil is gone – its organizers have been jailed and their group outlawed. Public memorials of the Tiananmen Square massacre, which Hong Kong uniquely allowed on Chinese soil, have been erased: statues commemorating the tragedy have been hauled down from university campuses. Even bookstores and libraries have purged works by pro-democracy figures or about sensitive historical events. More than 40% of books and videos with “political themes” have been removed from Hong Kong’s public libraries since 2020 under new censorship drives. The space for free thought and historical memory is shrinking, as the authorities align the city’s narrative with the Communist Party’s orthodox line.

Beijing’s grip is not only visible in street-level repression – it is being entrenched through an overhaul of Hong Kong’s institutions. Elections have been fundamentally re-engineered to ensure only “patriots” hold power. In 2021, China’s National People’s Congress imposed a drastic revision of Hong Kong’s election system. The number of directly elected seats in the legislature was slashed and a new vetting committee was established to scrutinize anyone running for office for sufficient loyalty. Opposition candidates were weeded out wholesale. In the December 2021 Legislative Council elections, every opposition figure was either barred or boycotted; not surprisingly, pro-Beijing candidates swept all seats amid record-low turnout from a disillusioned public. Only 30% of registered voters cast ballots – the lowest turnout in Hong Kong’s post-handover history, reflecting a sense that voting no longer matters when the outcome is pre-ordained.

Local district councils – once the only fully democratic bodies in Hong Kong – have also been neutered. After pro-democracy candidates won a landslide in the 2019 district elections, the government responded by changing the rules. In 2023 it eliminated most directly elected seats on district councils and placed the remainder under a vetting and appointment system. The December 2023 district council polls were thus a formality, producing assemblies stacked with government-approved members. The voice of the electorate has effectively been silenced in the institutions that were designed to represent them. Voter rolls have plummeted as many see little point in participating. Tellingly, the number of young registered voters has collapsed – the rolls of voters aged 18–20 shrank by half between 2023 and 2024 . Whether due to emigration or apathy, Hong Kong’s youth are increasingly absent from the formal political process, a stark reversal from the youthful energy that drove the 2019 protests.

The judiciary, once seen as a last bulwark of Hong Kong’s autonomy, is also under strain. Judges still don wigs and dispense justice in the tradition of common law, and contracts are enforced as before – crucial factors underpinning Hong Kong’s status as a business hub. But in political cases the pressure is evident. The Chief Executive, a Beijing appointee, now wields power to hand-pick judges for national security cases and even to bar juries in those trials. Beijing’s National People’s Congress has asserted the right to interpret Hong Kong law in ways that undermine judicial independence – for example, issuing a 2022 edict that effectively prevented an outside (British) lawyer from defending Jimmy Lai in his NSL trial. Foreign judges from common-law jurisdictions, who long sat on Hong Kong’s top court as a sign of its judicial credibility, have resigned en masse amid concerns that the NSL undermines the rule of law. The courts still operate, but the chilling effect is clear. In cases touching on politics, harsh sentences are increasingly the norm, bail is often denied, and the prosecution wins nearly every time.

The education system and civil service have likewise been brought to heel. New “national security education” programs in schools emphasize loyalty to China. Teachers deemed politically undesirable have been purged, and student unions that once encouraged debate have dissolved. Government employees have been made to swear oaths of allegiance, a test that flushed out a number of public servants with pro-democracy leanings. Bit by bit, Hong Kong’s pluralism is being replaced with enforced orthodoxy.

The cumulative effect of this crackdown is palpable on Hong Kong’s streets and in its homes. A climate of fear and self-censorship hangs over society. Many Hongkongers have grown cautious about what they say, even in private chats or classrooms, uncertain who might report them. Protest art and graffiti that once colored the city have disappeared. Some people have taken to tuning out politics entirely as a coping mechanism. “As Beijing’s political crackdown dominates Hong Kong’s headlines, some residents are turning away from local news, especially political reports,” notes the Associated Press, describing a trend of public disengagement. In a city once famed for raucous debate and civic participation, a sullen quiet prevails. Citizens avoid sensitive discussions to stay out of trouble, or simply out of despair that their voices no longer matter. This collective apathy is itself a barometer of how deeply the sense of powerlessness has set in.

Others have chosen flight over silence. In the past few years, hundreds of thousands of Hong Kong residents have left the city, seeking new lives abroad. The United Kingdom, invoking its historical and moral responsibility, opened a special visa program in 2021 for holders of British National (Overseas) passports. The response has been enormous: over 210,000 Hong Kongers have applied for the UK’s BN(O) visa route, and more than 200,000 have already relocated to Britain . Many are young professionals and families who see no future under creeping authoritarianism. Other popular destinations include Canada, Australia, and Taiwan – all of which have rolled out welcome mats for Hong Kong immigrants. This brain drain threatens to hollow out the city’s talent pool. By one estimate, Hong Kong’s population saw a net outflow of over 250,000 residents in the past three years. Every departure represents not just a personal vote of no confidence in Hong Kong’s direction, but a loss to the city’s diversity and dynamism.

Even Hong Kongers who stay are increasingly looking inward or laying low. The once-bustling pro-democracy bookstores have closed, their former patrons now browsing in private or online for censored titles. Activists who formerly led street marches have turned to community work or simply faded from public view. “Keep your head down” has become a prevailing survival strategy. The result is an eerie normalisation of repression – life goes on, the trains run on time, malls are full, but an intangible spark of freedom is missing.

Hong Kong’s transition has repercussions far beyond its shores. The city was long held up as a model of liberty in the East – proof that Chinese culture and democratic values could coexist. Its unraveling has strained China’s relations with Western powers and damaged Beijing’s international image. The United Kingdom, which co-signed the treaty guaranteeing Hong Kong’s freedoms, has repeatedly condemned China for betraying those promises. In a recent report to Parliament, the British government concluded bluntly that Hong Kong’s institutions “no longer reflect” the autonomy and rights China pledged to uphold. London and its allies argue that Beijing is in clear breach of the Sino-British Joint Declaration, a binding international agreement. In response, Chinese officials dismiss these critiques as foreign meddling, insisting Hong Kong’s affairs are an internal matter. The Hong Kong government publicly denounces the UK’s six-month reports as “misleading and irresponsible,” rejecting all allegations of rights violations – a ritual rebuttal each time Britain voices concern.

Other democracies have also spoken out. The United States has imposed sanctions on Hong Kong and Chinese officials deemed complicit in suppressing the city’s freedoms. Washington and London both terminated their extradition treaties with Hong Kong, unwilling to risk sending anyone into a legal system now seen as compromised by Beijing. The European Union and several G7 countries have scaled back cooperation with Hong Kong or issued formal protests over the NSL. In the UN, Western nations have pressed China on its Hong Kong record, so far to little avail. Beijing’s grip on Hong Kong has thus become a new flashpoint in an already fraught relationship between China and the West, adding tension to diplomatic and economic exchanges.

Beijing, for its part, appears undeterred by international censure. Hong Kong’s authorities have even extended their crackdown beyond their jurisdiction, asserting the NSL’s global reach. Dozens of overseas activists have been declared wanted by Hong Kong police for alleged subversion or collusion. By the end of 2024, arrest warrants were issued for 19 activists living abroad, including individuals in Britain, the United States, and elsewhere. In an Orwellian twist, Hong Kong officials announced that several exiled dissidents were deemed “absconders” and promptly canceled their Hong Kong passports, froze their local assets, and criminalized any assistance to them. Among those targeted is Nathan Law, a former legislator who fled to London and continues to advocate for Hong Kong’s cause overseas – he and others now carry bounties on their heads, posted by Hong Kong authorities for their arrest. Western governments have cried foul over this extraterritorial enforcement. “We will not tolerate any attempts by foreign governments to intimidate or harass their critics overseas,” declared Britain’s foreign secretary in a sharp rebuke to Beijing’s moves. Canada and the EU likewise blasted what they call transnational repression, making clear that Hong Kong’s long arm will meet resistance abroad.

Ironically, while political freedoms are quashed, Hong Kong’s economic freedoms remain intact – at least for now. The city still hosts a vibrant stock market and serves as Asia’s financial gateway, benefiting from rule-of-law traditions that persist in commercial matters. Hong Kong’s common law legal system continues to adjudicate business disputes fairly, and contracts are honored. These facets are crucial to Beijing’s calculation: China wants Hong Kong to remain useful as a financial center, even as it remolds the city politically. In global rankings of financial hubs, Hong Kong still scores near the top, a point Chinese officials tout as vindication that the city is “back to normal.” But cracks are showing. Foreign investors and firms quietly worry about the erosion of the independent judiciary and free flow of information. Some multinational companies have relocated regional headquarters to Singapore or Seoul, citing concerns over Hong Kong’s trajectory. While capital can flee more slowly than people, it is sensitive to uncertainty – and Hong Kong’s new normal is anything but reassuring for those who valued its openness and transparency.

Hong Kong today is a city transformed, its distinctive freedoms shadows of their former selves. The speed and scope of the change, just a quarter-century into the 50 years of promised autonomy, have startled observers. “One country, two systems” was supposed to run until 2047, but in practice it has expired well ahead of schedule. In the span of just a few years, Hong Kong has been recast from a liberal enclave into a city that more closely resembles the authoritarian mainland. The national security apparatus that governs Hong Kong now mirrors the rest of China’s – dissent is treated as sedition, loyalty is enforced by law, and the Communist Party’s prerogatives trump any local preferences.

Yet, even under this tightening grip, pockets of resilience remain. A quiet determination persists among Hong Kongers to preserve their identity and values in whatever ways they can. Some continue to fight legal battles in court for the remnants of their rights. A new media outlet or two, though careful, attempt to do honest reporting. Every so often, a lone brave individual still stands in public with a word of protest, knowing the consequences. And the very exodus of Hong Kong’s people has created a diaspora community abroad, intent on keeping the spirit of Hong Kong’s democracy movement alive in exile.

The long-term outlook, however, is uncertain at best. With Beijing having demonstrated its resolve, few expect any rollback of the new order. More likely, the remaining vestiges of freedom will be chipped away incrementally. By 2047 – or even much sooner – Hong Kong may be indistinguishable from any other Chinese city in political terms. The rule of law and openness that fueled its prosperity hang in the balance. Global attention on Hong Kong has already faded somewhat, as crises elsewhere draw focus, and Beijing is betting that it can complete Hong Kong’s transformation with minimal international fallout.

For the people of Hong Kong, it has been a heartbreaking transition. A city that once brimmed with hope and defiance has been forced into compliance. An older generation who fought for democratic reforms sees their dreams dashed. A younger generation must decide whether to accept a curtailed future or seek opportunity elsewhere. The city’s famed skyline still shines, but the liberty that lit up its society is growing dim.

In the end, Hong Kong’s story is a cautionary tale of promises broken and freedoms suppressed. It stands as an example of how quickly an open society can be closed off when faced with an authoritarian squeeze. The world has watched a unique experiment in liberty undone before its time. And Hong Kong itself – ever pragmatic – is adjusting to this new reality. The values that defined it for decades have not vanished entirely, but they survive in hushed tones and behind closed doors. Under Beijing’s grip, Hong Kong is still Hong Kong – but a paler version of the city it used to be.