Five years is the average career span of many young journalists in Hong Kong — or, at least, that’s what my friends at journalism school jokingly told me. Working in a poorly paid profession, with long and irregular working hours, is something that can only be sustained when the person who does it has a deep passion for the craft.
But last month dozens of journalists with shorter careers than that were forcibly expelled from the industry when two popular and independent journalism websites, Stand News and Citizen News, were shut down under mounting pressure from authorities.
Numerous journalists denounced the “death of the free press” in Hong Kong. With at least 15 newspapers with a mix of political leanings and more than four channels of journalism for a population of 7.4 million people, the city’s vibrant press was once hailed as one of the freest in Asia.
It’s not just the latest cases of shuttered outlets that have been discouraging journalists in Hong Kong. In 2020 Beijing imposed a sweeping national security law that led to dozens of pro-democracy activists being arrested or fleeing the city and resulted in the forced closure of more than 50 civil society organizations.
The effects of the legislation are still spreading. The city’s largest pro-democracy newspaper, Apple Daily, was closed in June last year after a police raid and the arrest of members of its board.
A twenty-something reporter for the Chinese-language newspaper Ming Pao, who declined to be identified, said there is no freedom, and the pay is so low that no one wants to start in the profession anymore. She herself goes to a better paid job in public relations.
Also Ming Pao, the centrist media outlet I worked for when I was a fledgling journalist, was attacked last month when a pro-Beijing newspaper accused one of its columnists of “taking Apple Daily’s role of inciting” hatred of the authorities. . At least six young reporters I know at the paper have left him and changed jobs in the last six months.
Many of the fired journalists went to work in other areas. Some became taxi drivers or food delivery people; others are temporarily inactive or have left Hong Kong.
The so-called “red lines” drawn by security legislation – which prohibits acts of secession, subversion, terrorism and collusion with foreign forces – are so ill-defined that, according to journalists working in local media, the bosses have been taking precautionary measures. Among them is an unusual disclaimer published in Ming Pao’s opinion section saying that the articles published there “are not intended to incite hatred or dissatisfaction” with the government.
Self-censorship is common among editors and reporters. Some outlets have elevated veteran journalists to senior positions seen by some as more moderate. The director of a channel would have given orders to eliminate reports published online of possibly provocative content. Journalists speak of diligent reporters who asked uncomfortable questions and whose employment contracts were not renewed.
Senior bureaucrats such as John Lee, Hong Kong’s powerful chief secretary, have been waging war on some media outlets they call “bad elements” and “bad apples.” But Carrie Lam, the leader of Hong Kong, has insisted on multiple occasions that press freedom remains intact.
A former Apple Daily reporter, in his 20s and looking for work for months, calls the picture bleak. For him, the authorities are looking to redefine press freedom. For example, in press conferences, more vehicles closely linked to the government are called in to ask questions.
A lot has changed since I started as a journalist. In 2012, I witnessed a scene that strengthened my ambition to enter the profession: a journalist asked then-CEO Leung Chun-jing, on his first day in his new role, if he would stop answering journalists’ questions after he was elected. This led the surprised leader to stay longer on site and answer questions.
Today, says a young reporter from public broadcaster RTHK who declined to be identified, every word put into questions and reports is under a magnifying glass.
According to him, a single “wrong” word can cost him his job or, even worse, land someone in prison. The journalist only tells himself, when he sees the arrest of a colleague, that he needs to work better to do his part too.
