Press Freedom Dies as China Silences Hong Kong Hero Jimmy Lai

Paul Riverbank, 12/16/2025Jimmy Lai's imprisonment highlights Hong Kong's lost freedoms and the world's intensifying scrutiny of China.

This week, after a trial most of his friends and family long feared, a Hong Kong court handed Lai three convictions. Two for conspiracy to collude with foreign forces—shorthand, say critics, for reaching out to the world when Beijing prefers silence. The third was “sedition,” a label flung with growing frequency since the 2020 national security law swept away the city’s former freedoms. You could see it coming, yet his niece Erica Lepp—now settled in Ontario—described the verdict as sinking news. “We knew,” she told me, “but it still broke us.”

The political tremors from Lai’s imprisonment reach far and wide. When former U.S. President Donald Trump paused to raise Lai’s case with China’s President Xi, his tone was unexpectedly personal. “He’s not well. He’s an older man, and he’s not well,” Trump said, his remarks mixing empathy with the usual political calculation. Whether words from Washington stir any change remains to be seen, but attention from diplomats—Americans, French, even the European Union’s Matthias Kaufmann—has made courtroom seats scarce. “We’re here to watch closely,” Kaufmann told reporters, emphasizing that the world’s patience for these proceedings is as thin as Lai’s cell walls.

Back in Canada, there’s a sense of proximity to Lai’s ordeal—less abstract, more urgent. Family ties to southern Ontario mean the story takes on a different shade for many Canadians. Lawmakers on all sides have expressed outrage, with Liberal MP Judy Sgro calling it another blow to democracy, and Bloc Québécois MP Alexis Brunelle-Duceppe not mincing words: “revolting.” The sense of affront crosses partisan lines. NDP MP Jenny Kwan, herself born in Hong Kong, spoke of Lai as a conscience kept captive. Even the government stepped up, with Foreign Minister Anita Anand calling the charges political, and Britain’s top diplomat joining the chorus demanding at least access to doctors.

Outside the families and politicians, Hong Kong’s shrinking circle of pro-democracy leaders in the diaspora now issues increasingly blunt warnings: today’s Hong Kong is just another face of China’s authority, no longer the city they knew. Andy Wong—well-known among Canada’s pro-democracy groups—didn’t hesitate. “It doesn’t have rule of law. It doesn’t have any freedom,” he said, characterizing a city where open dissent now risks a jail cell rather than a spirited debate.

These aren’t isolated fears. Since Beijing’s overhaul of the electoral system in 2021, critics say every established path for opposition has been blocked off. Major pro-democracy parties were essentially written out of contention. It’s the kind of change that once seemed unthinkable.

Today, as Lai’s family clings to hope, they’re not alone in their anxiety. “Whatever it takes, we hope he can be released,” his niece said, although optimism doesn’t come easy. As one of his lawyers made clear, should Lai die in government custody, the world would know whom to blame. Will China yield to mounting pressure? Or is public outcry just a sound Beijing has learned to tune out?

What the outcome will be for Lai remains uncertain. But his story—one of resilience, repression, and a city’s fading freedoms—continues to draw the world’s gaze, a reminder that the struggle over Hong Kong is no longer local. It’s become a test for anyone who still believes in the power of words over walls.

Jimmy Lai is a name that now echoes far beyond Hong Kong, wrapped up in a drama that wouldn’t seem out of place in a cold war thriller—except it’s painfully real and happening in full view of the world. For the better part of five years, Lai, who once stood at the helm of Apple Daily and championed the city’s boldest voices, has found himself confined to a cell in near-total isolation. His supporters say he's been left languishing with only fragments of sunlight and even less hope, his health worn away by diabetes and what they describe as inadequate care. You hear the word “solitary,” but it’s hard to grasp its weight until you consider the allegations: no proper medication, no company, barely a step outdoors.This week, after a trial most of his friends and family long feared, a Hong Kong court handed Lai three convictions. Two for conspiracy to collude with foreign forces—shorthand, say critics, for reaching out to the world when Beijing prefers silence. The third was “sedition,” a label flung with growing frequency since the 2020 national security law swept away the city’s former freedoms. You could see it coming, yet his niece Erica Lepp—now settled in Ontario—described the verdict as sinking news. “We knew,” she told me, “but it still broke us.”The political tremors from Lai’s imprisonment reach far and wide. When former U.S. President Donald Trump paused to raise Lai’s case with China’s President Xi, his tone was unexpectedly personal. “He’s not well. He’s an older man, and he’s not well,” Trump said, his remarks mixing empathy with the usual political calculation. Whether words from Washington stir any change remains to be seen, but attention from diplomats—Americans, French, even the European Union’s Matthias Kaufmann—has made courtroom seats scarce. “We’re here to watch closely,” Kaufmann told reporters, emphasizing that the world’s patience for these proceedings is as thin as Lai’s cell walls.Back in Canada, there’s a sense of proximity to Lai’s ordeal—less abstract, more urgent. Family ties to southern Ontario mean the story takes on a different shade for many Canadians. Lawmakers on all sides have expressed outrage, with Liberal MP Judy Sgro calling it another blow to democracy, and Bloc Québécois MP Alexis Brunelle-Duceppe not mincing words: “revolting.” The sense of affront crosses partisan lines. NDP MP Jenny Kwan, herself born in Hong Kong, spoke of Lai as a conscience kept captive. Even the government stepped up, with Foreign Minister Anita Anand calling the charges political, and Britain’s top diplomat joining the chorus demanding at least access to doctors.Outside the families and politicians, Hong Kong’s shrinking circle of pro-democracy leaders in the diaspora now issues increasingly blunt warnings: today’s Hong Kong is just another face of China’s authority, no longer the city they knew. Andy Wong—well-known among Canada’s pro-democracy groups—didn’t hesitate. “It doesn’t have rule of law. It doesn’t have any freedom,” he said, characterizing a city where open dissent now risks a jail cell rather than a spirited debate.These aren’t isolated fears. Since Beijing’s overhaul of the electoral system in 2021, critics say every established path for opposition has been blocked off. Major pro-democracy parties were essentially written out of contention. It’s the kind of change that once seemed unthinkable.Today, as Lai’s family clings to hope, they’re not alone in their anxiety. “Whatever it takes, we hope he can be released,” his niece said, although optimism doesn’t come easy. As one of his lawyers made clear, should Lai die in government custody, the world would know whom to blame. Will China yield to mounting pressure? Or is public outcry just a sound Beijing has learned to tune out?What the outcome will be for Lai remains uncertain. But his story—one of resilience, repression, and a city’s fading freedoms—continues to draw the world’s gaze, a reminder that the struggle over Hong Kong is no longer local. It’s become a test for anyone who still believes in the power of words over walls.