Beijing Crushes Hong Kong Dissent: Jimmy Lai Sentenced to 20 Years

Paul Riverbank, 2/9/2026Jimmy Lai’s 20-year sentence marks a pivotal moment in Hong Kong’s fight for press freedom.

Hong Kong’s national security law has been changing the city’s landscape for years now. Yet, Lai’s sentencing marks a new chapter—a warning or maybe a conclusion, depending on whom you ask. Prosecutors had called him a “mastermind,” orchestrating conspiracies to work with foreign forces and churning out “seditious” material through Apple Daily, the scrappy tabloid he founded back in 1995. The court agreed. Judges wrote in their verdict that it was Lai who deserved the heaviest burden. Their language was harsh and final. No discussion about an appeal from his lawyers—not yet, at least.

Lai wasn’t alone in the dock. Six Apple Daily staffers and two activists were handed their own sentences, some lighter because they decided to help the prosecution or admit guilt. Others, like Lai, stood their ground and got no such consideration.

The government, for its part, insists none of this was about press freedom. “Reporters can’t hide behind newsprint to carry out acts that threaten China,” officials say, echoing the line from Beijing. But to Lai’s family, it all rings hollow. “If we lose him to prison, he’ll die a martyr,” his sister Claire told reporters. Sebastien, his son, described the legal process as “the end of justice in Hong Kong.”

The criticism hasn’t been limited to family members. The British government—reminding the world Lai holds a UK passport—called the case “politically motivated.” Yvette Cooper, the foreign secretary, was blunt: a 20-year prison term for an elderly man, she said, amounts to a death sentence. Even Donald Trump, during his presidency, reportedly raised Lai’s situation directly with Xi Jinping. It didn’t sway Beijing, which continues to insist this is about upholding law, not muzzling voices.

China’s response is unwavering. Officials repeat that Lai violated the law and warn outsiders not to interfere. Hong Kong’s police seem convinced too. “He’s done nothing for Hong Kong that warrants pity,” one officer said as reporters milled about outside.

Few symbols carry as much weight as Apple Daily did in its heyday. It was loud, sometimes brazen, never one to play it safe. But newsstands went quiet when it shut its doors in 2021. Once ranked among the freest places on earth for journalists, Hong Kong now hovers around 140 out of 180 on the global press freedom index. A descent like that tells a louder story than legal judgments can.

For residents, Lai’s case is personal. As dawn broke, former Apple Daily workers stood under the courthouse’s fluorescent lights, pulling their jackets tight. The meaning of justice, these days, feels up for grabs. A lecturer I spoke with warned that speaking out at all—especially to foreign media—could put people at risk of “collusion” charges. The lines are as blurry as ever.

Some call Lai’s fate an inflection point, others a chilling inevitability. But as observers watch Hong Kong’s legal system shift and bend, everyone knows one thing: things will not be the same again.

Jimmy Lai showed up at court the other morning, thin smile on his face, waving like he was greeting old friends. Even after half a decade in custody, even at 78, he somehow seemed lighter than the air around him. But as the minutes dragged on, and the sentence came—20 years, by far the longest handed down yet under Hong Kong’s security law—the mood crashed. Some in the public gallery sobbed quietly; Lai’s face, those standing closest said, finally fell.Hong Kong’s national security law has been changing the city’s landscape for years now. Yet, Lai’s sentencing marks a new chapter—a warning or maybe a conclusion, depending on whom you ask. Prosecutors had called him a “mastermind,” orchestrating conspiracies to work with foreign forces and churning out “seditious” material through Apple Daily, the scrappy tabloid he founded back in 1995. The court agreed. Judges wrote in their verdict that it was Lai who deserved the heaviest burden. Their language was harsh and final. No discussion about an appeal from his lawyers—not yet, at least.Lai wasn’t alone in the dock. Six Apple Daily staffers and two activists were handed their own sentences, some lighter because they decided to help the prosecution or admit guilt. Others, like Lai, stood their ground and got no such consideration.The government, for its part, insists none of this was about press freedom. “Reporters can’t hide behind newsprint to carry out acts that threaten China,” officials say, echoing the line from Beijing. But to Lai’s family, it all rings hollow. “If we lose him to prison, he’ll die a martyr,” his sister Claire told reporters. Sebastien, his son, described the legal process as “the end of justice in Hong Kong.”The criticism hasn’t been limited to family members. The British government—reminding the world Lai holds a UK passport—called the case “politically motivated.” Yvette Cooper, the foreign secretary, was blunt: a 20-year prison term for an elderly man, she said, amounts to a death sentence. Even Donald Trump, during his presidency, reportedly raised Lai’s situation directly with Xi Jinping. It didn’t sway Beijing, which continues to insist this is about upholding law, not muzzling voices.China’s response is unwavering. Officials repeat that Lai violated the law and warn outsiders not to interfere. Hong Kong’s police seem convinced too. “He’s done nothing for Hong Kong that warrants pity,” one officer said as reporters milled about outside.Few symbols carry as much weight as Apple Daily did in its heyday. It was loud, sometimes brazen, never one to play it safe. But newsstands went quiet when it shut its doors in 2021. Once ranked among the freest places on earth for journalists, Hong Kong now hovers around 140 out of 180 on the global press freedom index. A descent like that tells a louder story than legal judgments can.For residents, Lai’s case is personal. As dawn broke, former Apple Daily workers stood under the courthouse’s fluorescent lights, pulling their jackets tight. The meaning of justice, these days, feels up for grabs. A lecturer I spoke with warned that speaking out at all—especially to foreign media—could put people at risk of “collusion” charges. The lines are as blurry as ever.Some call Lai’s fate an inflection point, others a chilling inevitability. But as observers watch Hong Kong’s legal system shift and bend, everyone knows one thing: things will not be the same again.