The Tide Turns: Britain's Policy Squeeze Is Sending 20,000 Hong Kong People Home

The Year of the Horse is off to a gallop – and it may be carrying Hong Kong people home.

Local wisdom holds that Bingwu (丙午), the most fire-charged year in the 60-year Chinese calendar cycle, is uniquely auspicious for Hong Kong, a city said to thrive on fire energy. Fire means celebration and confidence: tourists arrive in droves, and those who left are drawn back. Astrology, of course, deserves only a pinch of salt. But the objective data is telling exactly the same story.

Over 20,000 Hong Kong BNO holders in the UK are eyeing a return. Some have already slipped back and restarted in Hong Kong — and the real number could run higher.

A new survey finds that if the UK government goes ahead with tightening permanent residency requirements, 12.8% of Hong Kong BNO holders surveyed would return to Hong Kong – that is roughly 21,000 people. BBC and local media have already spoken with returnees who have quietly slipped back from Britain to Hong Kong, and the real count is climbing well past 20,000. Across the Pacific, the picture mirrors itself: many Hong Kong people who boarded the so-called "lifeboat" to Canada are watching their permanent residency applications drag on indefinitely, stranded between two shores – and more are cutting their losses and heading home.

The UK government has been tightening the screws on new migrants seeking Indefinite Leave to Remain (ILR). The new requirements include raising English language standards and imposing income thresholds – a package the Home Office is branding "earned settlement." A public consultation on whether Hong Kong BNO visa holders will be exempted from these new requirements has just wrapped up, and the verdict is imminent. For Hong Kong people already living in the UK, the suspense is grinding – sleep is hard to come by, and contingency plans are quietly being drawn up.

Four Hong Kong community organisations surveyed 1,725 Hong Kong BNO holders and asked one direct question: if ILR is no longer certain, what next? The results are sobering. A full 27.6% said they would leave the UK. Of that group, 12.8% would return to Hong Kong, while 14.8% would try to relocate to another country. With more than 170,000 Hong Kong BNO holders now resident in the UK, that 12.8% translates to roughly 21,000 people making the journey home.

Seeking to land in another country? Around 25,000 people have that idea – but the welcome mat is not out anywhere. Canada, like most destinations, has pulled back on immigration. Finding a new country to call home is genuinely difficult, and many of those 25,000 may ultimately discover they have run out of options. Hong Kong becomes the only door still open. Twenty thousand returnees is therefore the conservative case; the real number will almost certainly be far higher.

No Way Out but Home

Make no mistake: the deeper you look, the starker the numbers become. A UK Member of Parliament surveyed over 6,000 Hong Kong BNO holders and found that 43% of families cannot meet the new requirements. The road ahead is blocked, and those who remain will find daily life increasingly difficult. The survey bears that out: only 22% of respondents said they would "definitely stay in the UK." The others have already decided to find a way out. They have not moved yet simply because the moment has not arrived.

Some Hong Kong people stopped waiting long ago. BBC recently sat down with one returnee who spent three years in the UK and now drives a taxi in Hong Kong. He speaks candidly about the crushing depression that shadowed his time in Britain – a darkness so severe he contemplated suicide, as though he had fallen into a black abyss with no way out. He had planned to endure another three years to obtain British citizenship, caught in a relentless internal debate over staying or leaving. Then came the night he was violently attacked at the restaurant where he worked. The evidence was clear-cut. Police made no arrest even after a full year. That was the moment his faith in British rule of law and human rights gave out entirely. With no reason left to stay, he made his decision. "It was as if I had woken up from a dream – and I have found a whole new meaning of 'home.'"

Online media outlet Kinliu spoke with another returnee who arrived in the UK on a BNO visa at the end of 2024 and was back in Hong Kong just eight months later, now working in the IT sector. From the ground, the reasons for return are a perfect storm: economic pressure, a brutal job market, shifting policies, public safety concerns, and the relentless grind of adapting to life abroad. The cost of living is punishing. Income tax exceeds 30%, and even decent jobs paying £4,000 to £7,000 a month leave precious little once taxes, rent, and daily expenses are stripped out.

And getting hired in the first place is a battle of its own. This returnee sent out 100 applications across the IT sector over six months and received nothing. His decision to return had nothing to do with the ILR policy debate; it was the relentless weight of economic pressure that made the choice for him. Britain, for him, simply was not working.

A Job Market That Won't Budge

Employment conditions across the UK are deteriorating, and the numbers are unambiguous. The unemployment rate hit 5.2% in the fourth quarter of last year – the highest reading since January 2021 – as companies have sharply pulled back on hiring. For Hong Kong BNO holders already struggling to clear income thresholds, a contracting labor market is the final, brutal complication. More and more are arriving at the same conclusion: time to go home.

And it is not just Britain. Canada's Hong Kong reverse migration tide is accelerating, driven by a clear and deliberate policy choice: the Canadian government has intentionally slowed permanent residency processing to suppress overall immigration numbers. Hong Kong people who boarded that Canadian "lifeboat" are among the very first to feel the squeeze.

Canada’s “lifeboat” is stuck in limbo. With PR waits stretching out, more Hong Kong people are quitting the queue and heading home. Pictured: a Hong Kong immigrant advocacy group protests outside Canada’s immigration ministry.

The figures from Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada (IRCC) are damning. As of end-October last year, the two streams of the Hong Kong Pathway had taken in 42,040 permanent residency applications – but only 13,520 had been processed, leaving a massive, growing backlog. Estimates now put outstanding applications at 55,000 by 2027, with wait times stretching to a decade. For Hong Kong people marooned on that lifeboat – caught between two worlds, watching their best years tick away – more and more are drawing the same conclusion: stop waiting, turn back, and start over in Hong Kong.

Years ago, Hong Kong people left in waves for Britain and Canada. Now the world has turned full circle. The Year of the Horse has brought a genuine reversal of the tide, and this "reverse migration wave" is proof that Hong Kong is far from finished – it remains a city full of life and possibility. For Hong Kong people worn down in a foreign land – the tired bird that at last finds its way home – that is, when all is said and done, something to welcome.

What Say You?

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

Jimmy Lai operates like a gambler. The media mogul is arrogant, reckless, and dangerously addicted to risk. But make no mistake: beneath that bravado lies a calculating businessman who, when staring down catastrophe, always leaves himself a few escape hatches.

In mid-May 2021, authorities revoked his bail and threw him back behind bars. The Security Bureau moved swiftly, freezing his stake in Next Digital and locking down the bank accounts of three companies he controlled. But according to Mark Clifford, Lai's longtime ally, the tycoon had already spirited away $69 million—about HK$540 million—out of Hong Kong before the net closed. That cash pile now sits in a portfolio of US tech stocks, including Microsoft and Nvidia, and its current whereabouts remain a mystery.

Mark Clifford, Lai's closest ally, reveals in his biography that before the asset freeze hit, Lai secretly moved HK$540 million out of Hong Kong—routing it through Singapore to Taiwan and loading up on a basket of US tech stocks.

The moves didn't stop there. Around March 2022, companies linked to Lai transferred a batch of luxury apartments in Taipei to his wife, Teresa Lai, and his son, Sebastien Lai. The total value? Hundreds of millions of Hong Kong dollars. The timing screams risk mitigation. And most observers believe these disclosed assets represent just the tip of the iceberg. How much wealth does Lai still control today? That remains anyone's guess.

When the Security Bureau froze Lai's assets that year, officials fired off letters to every relevant bank, warning them to sever all dealings with his accounts or face legal consequences. The message was clear: the authorities were moving fast to plug the channels Lai might use to funnel money offshore and block any further asset transfers.

The Offshore Shuffle

But Lai likely saw it coming. Before the freeze landed, he had already launched his capital flight operation, quietly shifting chunks of his fortune beyond Hong Kong's reach. Veteran media figure Chow Yung unearthed the details buried in Clifford's biography of Lai. The book reveals that Lai moved $69 million—roughly HK$540 million—first to Singapore, then onward to Taiwan. Where the money ended up from there? The book doesn't say.

On Lai's instructions, $57 million of that stash—about HK$440 million—went straight into ten US stocks, mostly tech names. Microsoft and Nvidia topped the shopping list. Chow ran a back-of-the-envelope calculation comparing purchase prices to current valuations. If Lai hasn't cashed out, those holdings have more than doubled.

Clifford also disclosed that another $17 million was earmarked specifically for legal battles. Translation: the lawyers will be paid in full, and for whatever firm landed that retainer, it's a massive payday.

The Taiwan Property Play

During the same period, Lai was busy offloading or transferring his Taiwan properties—mostly high-end luxury homes. According to Taiwanese media investigations, he began systematically disposing of these holdings starting in early 2022. First to go: a luxury villa on Yangmingshan, sold to Koo Kwang-ming, a senior Democratic Progressive Party figure and "Taiwan independence" advocate.

Then in March 2022, Lai transferred a luxury unit in Taipei's Da'an District to a company called "Kowloon Land" for NT$390 million—about HK$100 million. The buyer turned out to be a company owned by his wife, Teresa Lai.

By September, Lai sold another Taipei luxury property to Victoria Harbour Limited, a company registered in his son Sebastien Lai's name. At the same time, he changed the registered addresses of several property-holding companies to a specific Taipei location—which just happens to be Victoria Harbour Limited's registered address. The pattern is unmistakable: Lai was systematically transferring a portfolio of properties to Sebastien. Each property carried an estimated value between HK$68 million and HK$82 million. Add them up? You're looking at several hundred million Hong Kong dollars.

Starting in early 2022, Lai systematically sold off a collection of luxury properties in Taipei, with several transferred to companies held by his wife Teresa Lai (pictured) and his eldest son Sebastien Lai—a textbook asset-shifting maneuver designed to hedge against risk.

The Mystery Fortune

But this represents only the visible slice of Lai's holdings. He also established a company in Canada called Lais Hotel, which owns several resort properties managed by his sister. On top of that, he holds residential properties in Paris and Kyoto that he previously used to host friends. Their current status? Unknown.

The evidence shows that before and after his arrest, Lai executed a systematic plan to shift his assets out of Hong Kong and Taiwan. Some now belong to his wife, children, and other relatives. The remainder likely stays under his indirect control through other corporate entities. Total estimate? Around HK$1 billion.

Which raises a crucial question: For years, Lai poured enormous sums into the opposition camp and into elements disrupting Hong Kong. And in its final years, Next Digital was barely profitable. So how does he still command such substantial wealth? Is there hidden financial dealing with foreign forces lurking in the background? That puzzle deserves continued investigation.

Lai Ting-yiu