The Hong Kong 47 Verdict: The End of an Era

type

status

date

slug

summary

category

icon

password

On November 19, the long-awaited verdict for the Hong Kong 47 case was finally delivered at the West Kowloon Court. Just before the court session began, a light autumn rain started to fall—almost as if foreshadowing the significance of this case in Hong Kong’s judicial history.

Forty-five people were sentenced to jail for subversion

Outside the court, hundreds gathered. Among them were Western diplomats and journalists, but the majority were family and friends of the 47 defendants. Many had queued overnight just to secure a spot in the courtroom, as only those with a ticket could catch a glimpse of their loved ones—many of whom had already spent nearly three years in detention. Meanwhile, the police treated the event as if it were a major security threat, deploying hundreds of officers and even bringing in armored vehicles.

I still remember hearing stories about how, in the past, you could walk into Hong Kong’s highest court without even seeing a security guard. It was open, accessible—almost unthinkable compared to today. But now, Hong Kong’s courts are no longer symbols of judicial fairness. Instead, they’ve become fortresses of power, where the legal process itself can only take place under heavy police surveillance.

There was a time when the streets outside Hong Kong courtrooms were filled with energy—people cheering when someone was granted bail and crying when others were remanded. In 2021, during the marathon bail hearings for these 47 activists, supporters outside would light up their phone screens to guide those being taken away in police vans. But this time, the atmosphere was eerily silent.

When the trial concluded, the mother of one of the defendants held up a banner. In many ways, this case marked not just the end of a legal battle but the end of a decade-long era of resistance in Hong Kong. It was a death knell for judicial independence—and, some would say, a mournful requiem for the city’s spirit of defiance.

The Story Behind the Hong Kong 47 Case

To understand this case, you have to start with one man: Benny Tai. A former law professor at the University of Hong Kong, Tai made a name for himself in 2013 when he proposed the idea of “Occupy Central with Love and Peace” in response to Beijing’s proposed electoral reforms.

In 2016, during the Legislative Council elections, Tai introduced the ThunderGo Plan, a strategic voting initiative designed to prevent pro-democracy candidates from splitting the vote and losing seats to the pro-Beijing camp. The strategy worked: the pro-democracy camp won 30 out of 70 seats, securing a “critical minority” that could block major legislation.

Then came 2019, and with it, a dramatic escalation in Hong Kong’s political landscape. That year, Tai launched the Wind and Cloud Plan, aimed at helping pro-democracy candidates take control of the District Councils. The results were stunning: pro-democracy candidates won 389 out of 452 seats, completely wiping out the pro-Beijing camp.

With this success, Tai set his sights on the Legislative Council elections in 2020. His 35+ Plan aimed to secure an absolute majority in the legislature. The idea was simple but ambitious:

Win at least 35 seats to take control of the Legislative Council.

Use that majority to veto government budgets until Beijing agreed to universal suffrage.

If the Chief Executive dissolved the legislature and called for a new election, win again and force the Chief Executive to resign.

For Beijing, this was an existential threat. If Tai’s plan succeeded, Hong Kong’s pro-democracy forces would have unprecedented leverage. And so, Beijing responded swiftly—first by passing the Hong Kong National Security Law (NSL) on June 30, 2020, and then by delaying the Legislative Council elections altogether.

Despite the new law, Tai and his allies proceeded with a primary election in July 2020. Over 600,000 people participated—far more than the expected 170,000. That result sent a clear message: if a real election were held, the pro-democracy camp could very well achieve its 35+ goal.

Beijing didn’t wait to find out. By early 2021, Hong Kong authorities arrested all 47 people who had participated in or organized the primaries. The charge? Conspiracy to subvert the state.

Why the Heavy Sentences?

The trial, which began in June 2023, lasted over 110 days, the longest in Hong Kong’s history. In the end, Benny Tai was sentenced to 10 years in prison, with other key figures receiving no less than six years. Out of the 47 defendants, 31 pleaded guilty, including Tai himself, while 16 insisted on their innocence. Of those, 14 were convicted, while only two were acquitted. The difference in sentencing was stark—those who pleaded guilty received shorter terms, some as low as four years, while those who fought the charges got six or more.

Jailed activists of the Hong Kong 47 being brought to court

But why such harsh sentences when the pro-democracy camp has already been eliminated from Hong Kong’s political scene? The answer is simple: deterrence.

For Beijing, these 47 people represented the backbone of Hong Kong’s opposition movement. By sentencing them harshly, the government sent an unmistakable message: opposition, even if legal, will not be tolerated.

Beyond deterrence, the verdict also reinforced a fundamental shift in Hong Kong’s legal system. The National Security Law has effectively overridden Hong Kong’s Basic Law, meaning that courts are no longer bound by traditional common law principles. Instead, the judiciary has become another tool for political control.

The results are clear: Hong Kong’s legislature is now as “harmonious” as China’s National People’s Congress, with zero opposition voices. Budget proposals pass unanimously, and street protests have all but disappeared.

“A Part of Hong Kong’s History”

Among the 47, one name stands out: Gwyneth Ho. A former journalist for Stand News, she had never been a politician before joining the 2020 primaries. This time, she received seven years in prison—one of the harshest sentences for someone who had never held office.

She was also one of the 16 who refused to plead guilty. In a social media post before her arrest, she wrote:

"I participated in Hong Kong’s last free and fair election. And because of that, I stand as a defendant in what can only be described as the first Soviet-style subversion trial under common law. I refuse to plead guilty to defend the political expression rights of the 610,000 Hongkongers who voted. The government wants to rewrite history, framing this as a foreign-backed conspiracy led by 47 brainwashed puppets. But I refuse to let them erase what actually happened. The solidarity we shared was not an illusion. The friendships, the conversations, the fight we fought together—those were real. And they still are. The only illusion is the belief that brutal oppression can erase them.”

Reading these words, it’s hard to judge the actions of these 47 people as merely “too radical.” In the end, they fought for what they believed in, and whether their efforts succeeded or failed, their story has already become a part of Hong Kong’s history.

Their names might not be written in textbooks, but their legacy is already etched into the city’s past—shining like a beacon, even in the darkest of times.