Facing the Invisible Tank: Journalist Ronson Chan, Self-Censored in Hong Kong

Japan Forward

19 hours ago

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In this five-part series, JAPAN Forward spotlights individuals in Hong Kong who continue to push against the sweeping effects of the National Security Law. In Part 1, we feature journalist Ronson Chan, whose cautious words today stand in stark contrast to the outspokenness that once defined his career.
"The nature of 'One Country, Two Systems' has changed," said Ronson Chan, Hong Kong's most well-known journalist, after a brief pause. I had never heard him speak so cautiously before.
He was answering my question: "What did you think when you first read the text of the Hong Kong National Security Law?"
It's been five years since the law was enacted. But in our first interview, Chan had used much stronger language to describe it. His unexpected self-censorship made me realize just how much the times have changed.
Back to the night of June 30, 2020. In the office of the online media outlet Stand News, Chan and more than a dozen colleagues were poring over the newly released text of the National Security Law.
He froze when he reached the section outlining the penalties for secession: serious offenses could carry a life sentence, and even active participation would result in at least three years in prison.
He was stunned. The wording was alarmingly vague and incompatible with Hong Kong's legal system. Yet the law explicitly stated that it would take precedence over existing Hong Kong laws.
That meant the authorities could apply it any way they wanted.
Under "One Country, Two Systems," Hong Kong had long enjoyed freedoms that didn't exist in mainland China. But now, what would become of that system?
That night, Chan couldn't shake his unease. Anti-government demonstration held in Hong Kong in 2019. (©Sankei by Kinya Fujimoto)
During the anti-government and anti-Chinese Communist Party protests that swept through Hong Kong in 2019, Ronson Chan rose to prominence by livestreaming scenes directly from the streets.
He openly criticized police violence against journalists and the growing restrictions on press freedom. His bold, unfiltered commentary resonated with the public.
In 2021, he became chairman of the Hong Kong Journalists Association, emerging as one of the most visible figures in the city's media landscape. Even after the National Security Law came into effect, he continued to call on the authorities to uphold press freedom.
Now, five years since the law went into force, Chan was the first person I spoke to about the current state of Hong Kong. He spoke more cautiously than he had during our last meeting in late 2023.
"Society has certainly changed," he said.
"How exactly?" I asked.
"There's a lack of transparency — not just in the government, but in the private sector too."
"Can you explain what you mean?"
"In the past, if something suspicious happened, the media would investigate, and the people involved would be forced to respond. Now, the truth never comes to light."
"Why not?"
"Because of self-censorship — by both the media and the public."
Chan offered a concrete example.
In February 2025, a Hong Kong high school student died during a study trip to Hangzhou, China. The trip was part of the government's ramped-up "patriotic education" efforts. The cause of death was never made public, triggering a wave of concern and speculation on social media. But authorities quickly declared it a suicide, and closed the case with no further explanation.
And society fell silent. Elementary school students learn about the founding of the People's Republic of China in 1949. "Patriotic education" has expanded in the five years since the National Security Law was enacted. National Security Exhibition Gallery, Hong Kong. (©Sankei by Kinya Fujimoto)
After the enactment of the National Security Law, the crackdown on the media intensified. Apple Daily , known for its outspoken criticism of China, was accused of violating the law and shut down in June 2021. Later that same year, Stand News, where Chan worked, was also forced to close after its senior executives were arrested.
Since my last meeting with Chan in late 2023, the situation has only grown worse. In September 2024, the former editor-in-chief of Stand News — Chan's former boss — was sentenced to one year and nine months in prison under the Crimes Ordinance. He was accused of inciting hatred toward the government.
It was a clear example of the judiciary rubber-stamping the Hong Kong government's efforts to silence dissent, backed by Xi Jinping's administration in Beijing.
"You have to constantly think about what's okay to say and what isn't," Chan said.
But there was one thing I needed to ask him.
It was about his unexpected resignation as chairman of the Hong Kong Journalists Association in 2024. Just months earlier, in our 2023 interview, he had expressed a strong resolve to continue, saying: "If I don't do it, no one else will."
When I brought it up, Chan explained: "Someone told me, 'You should step down as chairman.' I can't say who."
In Hong Kong, it's widely believed that so-called "middlemen" — people with connections to Chinese authorities — operate behind the scenes. They steer sensitive matters in line with Beijing's interests.
When I mentioned this, Chan became visibly agitated.
"They're not middlemen," he said sharply. "They're people who actually hold power."
Just for a moment, Chan's real voice broke through.
Ronson Chan's motivation to become a journalist goes back to the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre, when China's pro-democracy movement was brutally crushed by military force. At the time, Chan was just a primary school student. He remembers asking, "Why did the Chinese government kill the students?"
One "why" led to another, and his interest in current affairs grew deeper.
After Stand News was forced to shut down, Chan joined another online media outlet. But in early 2025, one of its senior staff members was arrested on financial crime charges, bringing a halt to their reporting activities.
Despite the setback, Chan and a team of about 30 staff have been working tirelessly to restart their reporting. But it's a precarious situation.
Chan says he has no plans to leave Hong Kong or quit journalism.
"There's meaning in staying here as a journalist," he explained.
Even with press freedom so heavily restricted?
"It can't be helped. Even journalists in mainland China work under restrictions. But if reporters leave the field, they can't do anything."
He's determined to keep reporting, even if it means going freelance. Though it's a struggle, he wants to stay on the ground.
One day, he hopes to answer those "whys" — honestly and openly — from within Hong Kong. A banner reading "Five Years since Implementation of the National Security Law" stands out against a shuttered store in Hong Kong. (©Sankei by Kinya Fujimoto)
On June 5, 1989, the day after the Tiananmen Square massacre, a man stood alone in front of a line of tanks, becoming a powerful symbol of China's pro-democracy movement.
The National Security Law is like an "invisible tank" that has entered and taken control of Hong Kong.
As of June 30, it has been five years since the law was put into effect. Since then, there have been people who — like the "Tank Man" — stood up bravely in defiance.
Through their words and actions, I want to shine a light on how freedom has been eroded under the National Security Law. I aim to reveal how Hong Kong society has changed with the end of One Country, Two Systems.
To suppress the anti-government and anti-Chinese Communist Party protests that escalated in Hong Kong in 2019, the Xi Jinping administration decided to bypass the Hong Kong government and implement the law. The text was not made available to the public in advance. Instead, the law was promulgated and came into effect simultaneously at 11 PM on June 30, 2020.
Crimes prosecutable under the law include secession, subversion of state power, terrorist activities, and collusion with foreign forces to endanger national security. Acts of incitement, aiding, or abetting such crimes are also punishable.
The law's long reach is meant to apply not only to actions committed in Hong Kong but also to conduct outside its borders — even by non-residents, including foreigners.
( Read the article in Japanese . )
Author: Kinya Fujimoto, The Sankei Shimbun
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