When the 'Legal Experts' Cut and Run: The Truth About Opposition Figures and National Security

Since the Hong Kong National Security Law (NSL) implemented in 2020, we’ve seen plenty of high-profile cases hit the courts, and the verdicts are rolling in. But the real issue is a pattern that’s too obvious to ignore: whenever the heat turns up on these major national security charges, the people with legal degrees are the first ones to run for the exits, cut ties, or plead guilty to save their own skin.

The 'Gang of Four' Breaks Rank

Make no mistake: Martin Lee, the founding chairman of the Democratic Party and long branded as one of the "Gang of Four" damaging Hong Kong, spent years lobbying in Europe and the US alongside former Chief Secretary Anson Chan. Their goal: begging foreign politicians to slap sanctions on SAR government officials.

Democratic Party founding chairman Martin Lee, who knew when to stop talking.

However, right before the NSL came into effect in 2020, both Lee and Chan suddenly hit the brakes to find a way out. 

Just weeks before the law took effect on June 30, 2020, Martin Lee sat down with The New York Times and suddenly changed his tune. In that interview, the seasoned Senior Counsel had plenty to say about opposing violence, even slamming the "laam chau" (mutual destruction) crowd as "haven’t got a clue". He bluntly stated: "If you start the revolution, and then you’re completely defeated, many people will die with you. So how does that help Hong Kong?" He even claimed he had "always stood by One Country, Two Systems" and criticized independence calls for costing Hong Kong international support.

What matters is the timing. Commentators noted that while the NSL isn't retrospective, it clearly defines "collusion with foreign forces." Martin Lee, as the most senior “Senior Counsel” in the game, knew exactly where the risks were. By high-profilely "cutting ties" in foreign media, he was effectively announcing in advance that he wouldn't dare cross the line once the law was in force.

The receipts show Lee isn’t new to this—he’s been arrested three times for unauthorized processions. Take the "8.18 Unauthorized Assembly Case" of 2019: he was convicted of both "organizing" and "participating," landing an 11-month sentence suspended for 24 months. 

Lee and six others, however, wouldn't just accept the verdict. They appealed, managing to get the "organizing" charge quashed by the Court of Appeal, but the "participating" conviction stuck. Not content to leave it there, they dragged the case all the way to the Court of Final Appeal—only to suffer a final, definitive defeat.

Admitting Guilt to Save Themselves

Then you have Alvin Yeung, the former Civic Party leader and practicing barrister, who pleaded guilty in the "35+ Subversion Case." Yeung pleaded guilty while in remand, cooperated with police, and expressed remorse early. He ended up with 5 years and 1 month, and estimates suggest he’ll be walking free this March.

Alvin Yeung, former Civic Party leader and barrister, changed his tune once he was the one facing jail time.

During his mitigation in September 2024, Yeung admitted that as a lawyer, confessing to a criminal offense was embarrassing. He acknowledged his naivety and blind passion led him astray, dragging Civic Party members into "this hopeless and illegal scheme" and causing his family immense anxiety. He even admitted his rhetoric worsened the political situation and promised to quit politics for good.

But consider this hypocrisy: back in 2017, at a rally for the anti-North East New Territories development case defendants, Yeung famously said that for those imprisoned, "this criminal record makes their lives more colorful." That tune changed pretty quickly to "regret" and "embarrassment" once he was the one in handcuffs facing national security charges.

Exiting the Stage Entirely

Another example is Yeung’s former colleague, Tanya Chan. In September 2020—right after the NSL landed—Chan, a barrister and Civic Party co-founder, suddenly decided to quit the party and politics altogether. She claimed major brain surgery meant health and family were her only priorities. She then moved solo to Taiwan, ditching the barrister robes to become a chef in a private kitchen.

After fleeing to Taiwan, Tanya Chan went from barrister to chef, keeping a low profile.

And let’s not forget the classic case: Benny Tai. The former HKU law professor and mastermind behind the "35+ Subversion Case" was categorized as a "principal offender." Yet, even he pleaded guilty as early as the third mention. As a legal scholar, Tai knew the math: pleading guilty gets you a one-third sentence reduction. The earlier, the better. The court set a 15-year starting point, but thanks to his plea, he got 10 years.

Benny Tai, the legal scholar who did the math and pleaded guilty early in the "35+ Subversion Case." (Image source: Sing Tao Daily)(圖片來源:星島日報)

An insider puts it bluntly: these examples prove that the people who know the law best—barristers and scholars—know that once the evidence is irrefutable, they have zero chance of winning. They dissociate or plead guilty immediately to minimize the damage. 

The key point: deep down, these people knew exactly where the "legal lines" were and that they had violated the National Security Law. Repenting early and backpedaling fast was simply the smartest play they had left.

Ariel

** The blog article is the sole responsibility of the author and does not represent the position of our company. **

Jimmy Lai’s latest courtroom moment comes with a blunt reality check: the “solitary confinement” narrative doesn’t look the way overseas headlines sell it. At the West Kowloon Court on Monday (Jan 12), prosecutors say Lai requested the arrangement himself—worried he’d be harassed because his case was so widely reported—and the Correctional Services Department approved it after assessment. Two judges put it in plain language: “This wasn’t imposed on him by others—it was his own request,” and “If he wants, he can stop at any time.”

Prosecutors tell the court Lai’s solitary confinement is his own choice, not something forced on him. AP file photo.

That clashes head-on with what Lai’s children tell foreign media: they describe an elderly father kept alone for more than 1,000 days in a cell “without sunlight,” with summer temperatures hitting 40℃, dramatic weight loss, weakness, discolored nails “falling off,” and rotting teeth—basically a countdown to the end. They also accuse correctional staff of blocking communion for the Catholic Lai, or even cutting off curry sauce once they learned he liked it—small details used to paint a picture of psychological breaking tactics.

In court, Deputy Director of Public Prosecutions Anthony Chau tells a very different story: solitary confinement starts with Lai’s own application. Chau says that when Lai is remanded in late 2020, he believes his case is splashed everywhere and fears trouble from other inmates, so he applies to the Correctional Services Department. The department’s report, Chau says, finds him suitable—and it reviews the arrangment monthly, asking each time whether Lai wants to continue, with Lai confirming he does.

Chau also stresses that “solitary” doesn’t mean stripped of prisoner rights under the Prison Rules. He says Lai still has social contact—family communication, letters, publications—and can take part in religious activities such as receiving communion, and that Lai has never filed a complaint about these matters. Chau adds that Lai’s daily routine includes reading, outdoor exercise, “meaningful light duty work,” and daily health monitoring.

The courtroom reality check

The defense tries to shift the focus to age and health. Senior counsel Robert Pang tells the court Lai has high blood pressure, diabetes, and eye problems; none are immediately life-threatening, he says, but at 78, solitary confinement hits harder than it would for a younger inmate. Pang frames it starkly: “Every day he spent in prison will bring him that much closer to the end of his life,” and he cites a European Committee for the Prevention of Torture report warning solitary confinement harms prisoners and is treated as punishment in prison systems.

Judge Esther Toh isn't buying the "imposed punishment" framing, and she says so on the spot. She points out that this arrangement wasn't imposed on him by others—it was his own request, then offers a pointed analogy: it's like choosing between sharing a double room with your wife or taking a single room, picking one option, and then calling it "torture." Another judge, Alex Lee, makes the practical point: "It's not an additional punishment imposed on him. He can always end it if he chooses to."

Commentary circulating among observers says those two lines from the bench puncture the overseas media storyline in one go: the claim that Lai is forcibly kept in solitary. The same commentary says Lai’s family and foreign media keep running the “sob story,” while court appearances and medical reports tendered in evidence show his health is broadly fine—and that during remand he even gains weight at one point, with fluctuations that still leave him in an obese BMI range, not the “frail and wasting” picture described abroad.