Hong Kong Frees Four Democracy Activists After Four Years \ Newslooks \ Washington DC \ Mary Sidiqi \ Evening Edition \ Four former Hong Kong lawmakers were released after serving over four years under Beijing’s national security law. Convicted for organizing an unofficial primary, they were among 47 activists charged with conspiracy to commit subversion. Their release marks a somber chapter in Hong Kong’s shrinking freedoms.
Quick Looks
- Claudia Mo, Jeremy Tam, Kwok Ka-ki, and Gary Fan freed after four years.
- 47 democracy activists arrested in 2021 over an unofficial primary election.
- First group of convicted activists reunited with families.
- Tight security around prisons during release; media kept at a distance.
- Activists aimed to win legislative majority to pressure Hong Kong’s leader.
- Sentences ranged from four to ten years under the national security law.
- Critics say the crackdown reflects Hong Kong’s eroding civil liberties.
Deep Look
In a moment heavy with political symbolism, four former Hong Kong lawmakers — Claudia Mo, Jeremy Tam, Kwok Ka-ki, and Gary Fan — were released from prison on Tuesday after serving more than four years under a sweeping Beijing-imposed national security law. Their release marked a poignant chapter in Hong Kong’s modern history — not as a triumphant return to freedom, but as a stark reminder of how rapidly civil liberties have diminished in the city once known as a beacon of democracy in Asia.
The four were among 47 pro-democracy activists arrested in 2021 for organizing and participating in an unofficial primary election intended to select the strongest candidates for the now-postponed Legislative Council elections. Authorities claimed their activities amounted to a conspiracy to commit subversion — a serious offense under the controversial national security law enacted by Beijing in 2020 after the massive 2019 anti-government protests rocked Hong Kong.
On the day of their release, tight security surrounded the prisons in remote areas of the city. Vehicles with covered windows discreetly ferried the freed activists away. No public images surfaced of their emergence; no press conferences or rallies greeted their freedom. Reporters, who had waited for hours outside the prison gates, were left with only glimpses of activity behind heavily guarded barriers.
At home, an Associated Press reporter observed Claudia Mo’s husband, respected journalist Philip Bowring, anxiously waiting at their residence. Moments later, Bowring and nearby media were asked to vacate the area under police watch, illustrating the ongoing restrictions placed even upon the families of those once involved in Hong Kong’s democracy movement.
In a brief and muted video clip posted by local media outlet HK01, Gary Fan thanked Hong Kongers and the press for their support, expressing his gratitude before reuniting with his family. It was a small but powerful gesture, contrasting the roaring energy that once defined the pro-democracy demonstrations.
The story of their imprisonment began with a surge of hope in 2020. The unofficial primary election attracted over 610,000 Hong Kongers, an overwhelming show of public participation despite the political risks. The goal was strategic: pro-democracy forces hoped to win a legislative majority, empowering them to challenge the government by blocking budgets and applying political pressure for democratic reforms.
However, the Hong Kong authorities — backed by Beijing — saw it differently. Prosecutors argued that the activists aimed to paralyze the government and force the resignation of the city’s Chief Executive. Though the methods were peaceful, the courts ultimately ruled that their intent amounted to subversion.
Only two of the original 47 defendants were acquitted. The remaining activists, including prominent figures like legal scholar Benny Tai and activist Joshua Wong, received prison terms ranging from just over four years to a full decade. Those who, like Mo, Tam, Kwok, and Fan, pleaded guilty received relatively lighter sentences — though still enduring years behind bars, separated from their families and their city.
The emotional toll on the activists and their families was severe. For them, the prison walls were not just a physical barrier but a reminder of how swiftly Hong Kong’s political landscape had changed. Once a city where freedom of speech, assembly, and the press were protected, Hong Kong has, in the span of a few years, become one where dissent is treated as criminal conduct.
Their case drew international condemnation. Critics argue that the national security law — vague in its definitions and harsh in its penalties — has become a tool for Beijing to extinguish the pro-democracy movement entirely. Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, among others, described the prosecutions as politically motivated and a stark violation of basic human rights protections.
China, however, stood firm in its defense of the law. Beijing insists that the national security framework is essential to restoring stability and prosperity to Hong Kong following the 2019 protests, which often escalated into violent clashes. The Chinese government, along with Hong Kong’s leadership, claims that the crackdown targets only a “small minority” threatening public order — a narrative rejected by most Western governments and human rights organizations.
Tuesday’s release of the four activists is not being celebrated with public rallies or protests, a testament to the new political realities. Under the chilling effect of the national security law, mass demonstrations have become a thing of the past, and open support for pro-democracy figures now carries serious legal risks.
Even the release operation was marked by secrecy and a sense of unease. Police maintained a tight perimeter around the facilities, ensuring that the activists’ reunions with loved ones happened far from public view. The contrast with the exuberant mass rallies of 2019 — where protesters demanded greater democratic rights — could not have been starker.
The broader implications of their release also remain complex. Fourteen of the convicted activists are appealing their cases, hoping to challenge the convictions and potentially restore some measure of justice. At the same time, government prosecutors are appealing the rare acquittal of one activist, signaling the authorities’ unwavering commitment to pressing forward with national security prosecutions.
For now, the activists’ future remains uncertain. They return to a Hong Kong very different from the one they knew: a city where elections are tightly controlled to allow only “patriots” to hold office, where independent media outlets have been shuttered, and where political expression is closely monitored.
The saga of Hong Kong’s 47 democracy activists serves as a powerful reminder of what has been lost — and of the personal costs borne by those who dared to believe in the possibility of democratic reform. Even outside prison walls, the atmosphere remains fraught, and their political activism, once publicly celebrated by many in Hong Kong, now carries a much greater personal risk.
Their quiet release, far from a triumphant homecoming, underlines the somber truth about Hong Kong’s current reality. Though free, they remain subject to intense scrutiny, and their freedom is shadowed by the omnipresent reach of the national security law.
Yet for supporters and those still hoping for a revival of Hong Kong’s democratic spirit, the courage of Claudia Mo, Jeremy Tam, Kwok Ka-ki, Gary Fan, and others remains a source of inspiration. Their sacrifices, endured away from the public eye, continue to echo through a city still wrestling with its identity and future.
As Hong Kong’s leaders press forward with their vision of a tightly controlled, stability-focused society, the stories of the 47 activists — and the millions of Hong Kongers who stood with them — will remain a powerful part of the city’s living memory, no matter how much authorities seek to erase or minimize it.
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