How Hong Kong was Tamed in Six Years
Conditioned fear is the biggest tool in an authoritarian tool kit to prevent political dissidence in Hong Kong.
Reading Time: 3 minutes
In Victoria Park, where tens of thousands of gatherers once lit candles to honor the victims of Tiananmen Square, now only a handful dare to show up. But from the outside, Hong Kong seems tranquil; not a single mention in the media of the massive protests, street violence, and widespread political unrest that briefly defined it. The city appears calm, orderly, and tightly controlled. While some view this transformation as a return to stability with “radical” protesters gone, Hong Kong was tamed through repression rather than reconciliation. The city’s calm is not a sign of shifting beliefs but of fear, silence, and the dismantling of civil freedoms and opposition.
Before Hong Kong was known as the Pearl of the Orient and had flashy skyscrapers, it was a group of sparsely populated islands and rocks south of Guangdong Province. With imperialism on the rise, the British realized that the strategic location of the city—right outside of Qing China’s jurisdiction—would give them more freedom to trade with China. After the Chinese Civil War and the Chinese Communist Party’s consolidation of power, Hong Kong was still under British rule, but by 1997, it was returned to China, albeit under British systems of law. This was referred to as the “One Country, Two Systems” plan. As a result, Hong Kong enjoyed many freedoms that average Chinese cities did not experience. Being a Special Administrative Region gave them their own government, police, and policies.
As China began to encroach on those freedoms, thousands of residents flooded the streets demanding reform. Independent media outlets openly criticized the government. This environment made Hong Kong chaotic at times, but also made it politically alive. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the sweeping 2019 Extradition Bill, which proposed allowing extradition to regions such as Macau and China. Under the bill, people could be sent to be tried in court under mainland China’s legal system, which was previously completely separate from Hong Kong’s jurisdiction. This would leave Hong Kong’s political dissidents at the mercy of the Chinese government due to the lack of an independent judiciary and reports of political imprisonment. The people of Hong Kong opposed this bill, which led to its withdrawal in 2019. However, this would not be China’s last attempt to erode Hong Kong’s freedoms.
The sudden calm in Hong Kong was achieved through sweeping legal and political crackdowns on dissidents who were not considered “patriotic” under the National Security Law, which criminalized dissent and led to the arrests of journalists, politicians, and activists. According to the Government of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, even people who are not Hong Kong residents or nationals are subject to this law, making it extend beyond China’s jurisdiction. As a result, public opposition disappeared—not because opinions changed, but because expressing them became dangerous. Journalists, dissidents, podcasters, and other political commentators are faced with legal trouble in not only China, but also Macau and Hong Kong. It’s easy to imagine why people would be afraid to speak out even in foreign countries; any act against the government could have serious consequences, including harassment, beatings, and placement in detention centers, according to several lawyers whose families were imprisoned by the Chinese government. By punishing high-profile figures, the Chinese government creates an environment of fear that silences ordinary civilians—if respected lawyers can be imprisoned and tortured, the average person has little choice but to stay silent, further cementing the state of Hong Kong today.
Independent reporting in Hong Kong has nearly vanished. Apple Daily and Stand News both ceased operations in the city, as did the New York Times, which relocated staff to South Korea. These closures sent a strong signal to journalists that criticizing the government would be treated as collusion with foreign forces or a threat to national security. Social media platforms, once spaces for open debate and activism, are now heavily monitored. Many users self-censor and avoid politically sensitive topics, fearing arrest or harassment for seemingly innocuous posts. The impact is profound: news that would once have been widely reported, such as government mismanagement, protests, or policy criticism, is now rarely covered locally. International media continues to report on Hong Kong, but with limited access and frequent reliance on exiled journalists or diaspora communities. The city’s media environment has shifted from vibrant, critical, and participatory to controlled, restricted, and cautious, leaving the public with narrow, government-restricted access to information.
Hong Kong’s calm is eerie because it’s based on fear rather than social stability. Fear is a tool in the Chinese government’s toolbox—by punishing and making examples of dissidents, the state ensures that ordinary citizens self-censor and avoid challenging authority. The real danger is how easily fear is weaponized. Over time, this creates a silent society in which people are afraid to voice their opinions. This raises a larger question: how many other societies, under the guise of order, are living in silence shaped by fear and censorship?