The sentencing of Hong Kong media mogul Jimmy Lai to 20 years in prison on February 8 on charges of sedition and collusion with foreign forces prompted international outrage. Lai founded the now shuttered pro-democracy Apple Daily newspaper – and supporters of press freedom around the world pointed to the chilling effect the sentence would have on the media, in a city once vaunted as a beacon for press freedom in Asia.The reaction was more muted in Hong Kong, where dissent has been stifled since Beijing imposed the draconian National Security Law in 2020, following months of protests in 2019. A local security law enacted in 2024 further expanded the scope of the city’s national security legislation.Privately, some local journalists say Lai’s conviction will have limited impact on their work. They have already felt heavily constrained by the security laws and what they’re calling the “new normal” – an overarching national security apparatus and culture. Although saddened, they were not altogether surprised at the severity of Lai’s sentence.One journalist told me they were more shaken by the sentences of up to ten years that were meted out to six senior Apple Daily editors and writers for “just doing their jobs”.Since the national security law, Hong Kong journalists’ jobs have involved a great deal of dancing around shifting boundaries as to what can and can’t be reported. Inevitably, this has meant exercising greater self-censorship.In an editorial on the sentencing, the Ming Pao newspaper, which has long positioned itself as a neutral paper of record, suggested the Lai ruling has brought these boundaries into sharper focus, concluding: “Collusion with foreign forces cannot readily be dressed up as journalism.”The newspaper said that as Hong Kong now operates within the framework of the national security legislation: “The media must operate within this legal framework while continuing to report facts and hold power to account, a balance essential to preserving the city’s pluralism and openness.”But it hoped “the Lai case will prove a watershed, allowing space for press freedom to widen step by step, so the media can fulfil its responsibilities more effectively”.However, local journalists I spoke to described this position as naïve and wishful thinking, and said the red lines are no clearer now than before. Selina Cheng, chair of the Hong Kong Journalists Association (HKJA), believes the constraints on free expression in Hong Kong go far beyond a legal framework.“If we call it a legal framework, it’s giving the system some kind of legitimacy,” Cheng told me. “In reality, the way it operates is there is a lot of destruction of due process, creating an atmosphere of fear and anxiety in those working in industries of expression.”Apart from being arrested and jailed, Cheng says journalists and their family members have been doxed, with their personal details posted online, and harassed. Both individual journalists and news outlets have been targeted by unusual tax audits.Tai Po tragedyCheng was one of several journalists I spoke to who pointed to the November 2025 fire which killed 168 people in Tai Po’s Wang Fuk Court Estate as a potent symbol of the current state of press freedom and freedom of speech in Hong Kong.In the immediate aftermath, local and international journalists interviewed victims and reported extensively on suspected corruption and lack of oversight of building works on the site. But residents and other potential interviewees soon became reluctant to speak to reporters following the arrests of people who had posted comments online.A student who started a petition for an independent inquiry was arrested – and then recently expelled from his university just weeks from graduation, even though he hasn’t been charged.For one veteran journalist, who asked to remain anonymous for fear of bringing trouble to their organisation, what led to the Tai Po tragedy highlights a “media failure”. The news outlets which had most doggedly pursued stories about building maintenance, bid-rigging and corruption were the investigative site Factwire and Apple Daily, so “when these outlets disappeared, a lot of the reports also petered out”.“In the past, you’d have lots of commentary in the media after an incident like this,” they explained. “There’d be legal scholars, experts, people from all different sectors. But now, the universities don’t allow people to comment and articles are spiked or censored, so it’s hard to raise and maintain public concern.”Snitch cultureThe journalist spoke of a system that extends beyond the legal framework of the national security law that restricts speech, through the control of public opinion and a “snitch culture” that weaponises complaints.A Hong Kong police national security hotline was launched in November 2020; by June 2025, the city’s security chief said it had received more than 920,000 reports. Public bodies and funding organisations also regularly receive complaints about platforming of funding groups or individuals perceived to be pro-democracy or supportive of the 2019 protests.Last October, a public venue cancelled a play written by Candace Chong, a leading playwright who was been vocal about censorship. The body that manages the Xiqu Centre, part of the West Kowloon Cultural District, said it had received complaints that the show – which depicts a love triangle between three men – defamed Hong Kong.There are signs the “media failure” is already affecting governance. In January, the government introduced a controversial seat belt law requiring all bus passengers to buckle up while seated, only to shelve it five days later. The bill had received little scrutiny in Hong Kong’s now opposition-free legislature.“It’s really unthinkable for a government to push out a bill, get it rubber-stamped by the legislature, and then withdraw it because they suddenly realise people are unhappy or the legislative details haven’t been thought through,” the HKJA’s Cheng told me. “It shows how the government misjudged public sentiment. This can be attributed to how the media isn’t free any more.”Yuen Chan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.