作者：张致君
编辑：李聪玲 责任编辑：罗志飞 校对：熊辩 翻译：吕峰
2025年11月26日，香港大埔屋苑宏福苑大火，7座大厦受灾。之后，本应是一场人道灾难后的公共检讨，却再次被拽入政治黑暗之中。当民众发起联署，呼吁成立独立调查委员会、要求问责、改善制度，以避免悲剧再度发生时，理应是制度健全社会里最普通不过的公民行为。然而，发起人在周六被警方以“涉嫌煽动”拘捕。
四项诉求，合乎法治。而灾难没有让政府反省，反而成为压迫言论的契机。
这正是今天香港最荒凉的现实：
言论自由已死，公民监督已死，国安法成了枷锁，牢牢锁住每一个愿意说真话的嘴。
中共驻香港国安署更是宣告联署行为为“反中乱港”，这种压迫，并非突如其来，是自2019年的“反送中”以来，一步步被雕刻、强化、制度化的结果。
2019年的“反送中”运动里，数百万港人提出五大诉求：撤回《逃犯条例》修订；成立独立调查委员会，调查警方滥权；撤销“暴动”定义；释放所有被捕示威者，不予追究；实行双普选。
这五大诉求，是香港社会对体制失信的回应，是市民在持续被压迫之下的最低要求。
但六年过去，结果是什么？
只有第一项“撤回条例”被动完成，但已失去意义，一部更严厉、更全面、更无法上诉、更不受监督的法律取而代之：《香港国安法》。
它不是修补社会裂痕，而是直接把所有裂痕密封、焊死，把自由统统埋进水泥里。
独立调查委员会没有成立，警方被视为“不可质疑的权力体”。六年前，警察在街头、地铁站、校园中的武力使用问题，引发巨大争议。
社会要求成立独立调查委员会，是希望真相得以公开，责任得以承担，这也是任何成熟法治社会处理公民冲突的常规方式。
但在香港，这项诉求被彻底拒绝。
更讽刺的是：今天的香港，只要公民使用合法权利再提出同样要求——哪怕是针对一场大火、一起意外事故，都有可能被控“煽动”或“危害国家安全”。
“反送中”抗争后，“暴动”定义仍然存在，甚至被无限扩大，2019年参与游行的普通市民，原本希望争取公义，却被当成“暴徒”。六年后，香港的法律环境更恶劣：只要在网上表达对政府的不满、转发新闻、写标语、参与纪念“六·四”活动，甚至在不同意官方叙述的群组中留言，都可能被判刑、被扣押、被噤声。
大量年轻人被捕、定罪、入狱，许多人的人生轨迹被改变。他们本应是社会的未来，却被视为对国家的“威胁”。被捕者没有获得宽恕，却成为政治审判的核心对象。
香港人要求的普选更是遥遥无期，“爱国者治港”成为唯一政治标准，“爱港者治港”成为分裂国家标语，香港人民理想中的民主没有实现，进一步倒退。在一场公民运动中，被排除的不是政客，而是整整一代人的政治权利。
五大诉求没有被政府认真回应过，成为政府口中“必须压制的动乱根源”之后，如今大火，当民众再度提出“调查”、“问责”、“制度改革”时，政府第一反应不是改善，而是镇压，这便是在2019年坚持抗争的人们所预料到的现实。
《国安法》成为了万能的法治枷锁。
该法定义模糊，“危害国家安全”几乎可以涵盖任何行为，所谓“煽动”，可以是不满政府的言论、批评公共政策的文章，甚至是一张海报、一句口号、一支蜡烛。当法律缺乏明确界限时，权力便可以无限扩张。加之其执法方式不透明，“调查本身”就是惩罚，在国安案件中：拘捕时警方不必公开理由，律师无法接触核心资料，嫌疑人基本无法获得保释，审判由指定法官完成，没有陪审团，媒体报道受限制。这些都意味着国安案件已经脱离正常法治程序。
在《国安法》控制下，寒蝉效应被设计成制度的一部分，只要人们知道“别人因为发起联署被捕”，民众就会自我审查，对公共事务保持沉默。
政府不需要抓所有人，只需要抓一两个典型，便能让更多人不敢开口。
这就是政治的恐惧机制。这种政治恐惧，从大陆烧到了香港，一党独裁，遍地是灾。
今天的香港，不再是曾经那个自由、开放、敢于批评权力的城市。它像一扇被焊死的铁门，外表依旧繁华亮丽，内部却暗流汹涌，日益窒息。
独立媒体被关闭、冻结资产、编辑被捕，记者被控“串谋发布煽动刊物”。昔日的新闻自由指数跌落谷底。
工会组织、人权团体、学生组织纷纷解散。不是因为不想存在，而是不敢存在。
教科书也被重写，6月4日被从历史里删除，校园里的政治表达被禁止。
成长中的一整代人，被迫在过滤后的世界里成长。
从2019年后，超过几十万港人离开香港。不是为了更好的生活，而是为了逃离恐惧。
对于香港最大的失败不再是经济停滞，而是人民不再相信未来，香港已死。
香港大火的悲剧本应促成政体反思：制度是否有漏洞？官员是否失职？监管是否失效？是否需要独立调查？
这在过去的香港，是常态。无论是撞船事故、地铁出轨、食物安全问题，社会都会要求独立调查委员会——这是香港曾引以为傲的制度。
然而今天，提出独立调查的人被抓，提出问责的人被控“煽动”。
不是社会变了，是制度之下不再允许公民参与讨论。
在《国安法》的铁幕之下，公共治理不再接受监督，权力不再需要解释，而人民不再被允许发问。
法治落幕，赤裸裸的权力统治昭然若揭。
香港人从2019年的反抗，就看到了今日的司法惨剧。一个没有言论自由和公民监督的社会，是无法纠错的社会。
没有人可以提醒政府错误，没有媒体可以揭露疏忽，没有市民敢提出制度缺陷。
错误变成习惯，习惯变成制度，制度变成压迫。
“反送中”的五大诉求之所以重要，就在于它们是防止今日香港走向黑暗的最后努力。
当五大诉求被忽视，国安法成为枷锁，言论不再被允许，悲剧就不仅仅是火灾，而是整个民主制度的逐步沉沦。
中共抓不完香港人，香港仍有在坚守的人，公义的希望来自那些仍然愿意发声的人。
尽管风险巨大，尽管时代黑暗，总有人愿意站出来告诉权力：真相必须被说出，责任必须被追究，自由必须被守护。
“世界上本就没有英雄，而是一个个挺身而出的凡人。”
我仍愿意书写今日香港，为的是还在坚持的平凡人。正如2019年的街头，正如无数被捕但未沉默的人们，正如仍在要求调查、要求问责的市民。
这是香港不灭的火种。
权力可以压制言论，可以拘捕发声的人，但无法消灭思想。
只要有人记得，自由就不会彻底死亡。
我也记得。
香港大火后的联署被捕事件，只是国安法下无数荒谬事件中的一桩。
它暴露的不仅是权力的狂妄，更是制度对公民自由的系统性摧毁。
“反送中”的五大诉求，如今看似遥远，却正揭示了今日香港的问题根源：没有调查、没有问责、没有民主、没有法治，只剩下恐惧与沉默。
控诉不是为了发泄，而是为了提醒世人——自由与监督一旦被夺走，悲剧就不再是意外，而是必然。
而香港，正走在这条不归路上。
救救香港，这样的呼求声从2019年一直回响到现在。
Crying Hong Kong: Accountability for the Next “Anti-China, Destabilizing Hong Kong” Fire Under the National Security Law
Author: Zhang Zhijun
Editor: Li Congling Executive Editor: Luo Zhifei Proofreading: Xiong Bian Translator: Lyu Feng
Abstract:After the deadly fire in Hong Kong, citizens’ calls for an independent investigation led to arrests on charges of “incitement,” while all five demands of the Anti-Extradition Movement were comprehensively suppressed. The National Security Law has deepened a regime of fear, eroding free expression and public oversight. As the system refuses mechanisms for self-correction, Hong Kong society has sunk into silence and darkness, allowing tragedies to recur again and again.
On November 26, 2025, a massive fire broke out in Hong Fu Court, a housing estate in Tai Po, Hong Kong, affecting seven residential blocks. What should have been a moment for humanitarian concern followed by a public review was once again dragged into political darkness. When citizens launched a petition calling for the establishment of an independent commission of inquiry, demanding accountability and institutional improvement to prevent future tragedies, such actions should have been the most ordinary civic behavior in any society with a functioning system. Yet on Saturday, the organizer was arrested by the police on suspicion of “seditious intent.”
The four demands were entirely consistent with the rule of law. Instead of prompting introspection from the authorities, the disaster became an opportunity to further suppress free expression.
This is precisely the bleak reality of Hong Kong today:
Freedom of speech is dead; public oversight is dead. The National Security Law has become shackles, tightly fastening shut the mouths of all those willing to speak the truth.
The Office for Safeguarding National Security of the Central People’s Government in Hong Kong even declared the petition a form of “anti-China, destabilizing activity.” Such repression is not sudden, but the cumulative product of a process etched, reinforced, and institutionalized step by step since the 2019 anti–extradition movement.
The 2019 Anti–Extradition Bill Movement saw millions of Hong Kong people put forward five major demands: withdrawal of the extradition bill; the establishment of an independent commission of inquiry into police abuses; withdrawal of the “riot” designation; release of all arrested protesters with no prosecution; and the implementation of genuine universal suffrage.
These five demands were the society’s response to the collapse of institutional trust—the minimum expectations of citizens who had been persistently pressured.
But six years have passed. What is the result?
Only the first item—the withdrawal of the bill—was passively completed, and its meaning had long evaporated. A harsher, more sweeping, appeal-proof, and entirely unaccountable law replaced it: the Hong Kong National Security Law.
It does not mend social fractures; it seals them shut—welding every crack into place and burying freedom in concrete.
The independent commission of inquiry was never established. The police have become an “unquestionable authority.” Six years ago, controversies around police use of force on streets, in subway stations, and on campuses triggered enormous public outcry.
The demand for an independent investigation was meant to reveal facts and assign responsibility—a routine mechanism in any mature rule-of-law society for handling conflicts between citizens and the state.
But in Hong Kong, this demand was categorically rejected.
Even more ironically: in today’s Hong Kong, merely exercising one’s legal rights to make the same request—even in response to a fire or an accident—can lead to charges of “seditious intent” or “endangering national security.”
Since the Anti–Extradition Movement, the definition of “riot” remains, and has even expanded without limit. Ordinary citizens who marched in 2019, hoping to uphold justice, were branded “rioters.” Six years later, the legal environment in Hong Kong is even worse: expressing dissatisfaction with the government online, sharing news, writing slogans, joining a June Fourth memorial, or simply posting in a chat group that diverges from the official narrative can result in imprisonment, detention, or enforced silence.
Large numbers of young people have been arrested, convicted, and imprisoned. Many lives have been permanently altered. These individuals—who should have been the future of society—are instead treated as threats to the state. They received no clemency; they became central targets of political prosecution.
The demand for universal suffrage is now more distant than ever. “Patriots governing Hong Kong” has become the sole political qualification. “Loving Hong Kong” has been reframed as a slogan of subversion. The democratic vision cherished by Hong Kong people has not only failed to materialize—it has retreated further. What has been excluded in this political movement is not merely politicians, but the political rights of an entire generation.
The government never seriously responded to the five demands. Once they were labeled “the root of destructive unrest that must be suppressed,” it became predictable—as those who resisted in 2019 long foresaw—that after the recent fire, when citizens again called for “investigation,” “accountability,” and “institutional reform,” the authorities would respond not with improvement but with repression.
The National Security Law has become an all-purpose shackle of “rule by law.”
Its definitions are vague; “endangering national security” can encompass almost any behavior. “Sedition” may include dissatisfaction with the government, critical commentary on public policies, a poster, a slogan, or a candle. When a law lacks clear limits, power expands infinitely. Its enforcement is opaque; “investigation itself” becomes punishment. In national security cases, police are not required to disclose reasons for arrest; lawyers cannot access core evidence; suspects are almost never granted bail; trials are conducted by designated judges without a jury; and media reporting is restricted. All these features indicate that national security cases operate outside normal legal procedure.
Under the National Security Law, the chilling effect is deliberately built into the system. Once people learn that “someone has been arrested for launching a petition,” they will self-censor and remain silent on public issues.
The government does not need to arrest everyone; it only needs to arrest a few key examples to silence the many.
This is how political fear works. This fear, cultivated on the mainland, has now spread to Hong Kong. One-party rule brings disasters everywhere it extends.
Today’s Hong Kong is no longer the free, open, and outspoken city it once was. It resembles a welded iron gate—still glossy and prosperous on the surface, yet suffocating within.
Independent media outlets have been shut down, frozen, or dismantled; editors arrested; journalists charged with “conspiracy to publish seditious publications.” The city’s former ranking in press freedom has collapsed.
Trade unions, human rights groups, and student organizations have dissolved—not because they wished to disappear, but because they feared they could not survive.
Textbooks have been rewritten; June Fourth erased from history; political expression prohibited on campuses.
A whole generation is growing up in a filtered reality.
Since 2019, hundreds of thousands have left Hong Kong—not seeking better economic opportunities but fleeing fear.
Hong Kong’s greatest failure is no longer economic stagnation but the loss of belief in its own future. Hong Kong is dead.
The recent fire should have prompted institutional reflection: Were there systemic failures? Did officials neglect their duties? Did regulatory mechanisms break down? Should an independent commission be established?
In the Hong Kong of the past, these questions were routine. Whether in ferry collisions, subway derailments, or food safety scandals, society routinely demanded independent investigations—a hallmark of the city’s once-admired governance.
Today, however, people who call for such investigations are arrested, and those who demand accountability are charged with “sedition.”
The society has not changed; it is the system that no longer allows citizens to participate.
Under the iron curtain of the National Security Law, public governance no longer accepts oversight; power no longer needs to explain itself; and people are no longer permitted to ask questions.
Rule of law has collapsed; unmasked authoritarian power stands exposed.
Those who resisted in 2019 foresaw the judicial catastrophe unfolding today. A society without free expression and civic oversight is a society incapable of correcting its mistakes.
No one can warn the government; no media can expose negligence; no citizen dares point out institutional flaws.
Mistakes become habits; habits become systems; systems become instruments of oppression.
The Five Demands mattered precisely because they were the last effort to prevent Hong Kong from descending into darkness.
When these demands were ignored, when the National Security Law became a shackle, when speech was no longer tolerated, tragedies expanded from isolated disasters to the gradual collapse of an entire democratic structure.
The authorities cannot arrest all Hongkongers. There are still those who persevere. The hope for justice comes from people who continue to speak.
Despite immense risk, despite the darkness of the times, someone will always stand up to tell power: the truth must be spoken, responsibility must be pursued, freedom must be defended.
“There are no born heroes—only ordinary people who step forward.”
I will continue writing about today’s Hong Kong for the sake of those who persist, just like the people who filled the streets in 2019, like the countless arrested yet unbowed, like the citizens who still demand investigation and accountability.
This is the city’s undying ember.
Power can silence voices and imprison those who speak, but it cannot extinguish ideas.
As long as someone remembers, freedom will never fully die.
I remember as well.
The arrests following the petition after the Hong Kong fire are only one among countless absurdities under the National Security Law.
What they expose is not merely the arrogance of power but the systemic destruction of civic freedom.
The five demands of the Anti–Extradition Movement may now seem distant, yet they illuminate the root of today’s crisis: no investigation, no accountability, no democracy, no rule of law—only fear and silence.
To denounce is not merely to vent. It is to remind the world: once freedom and oversight are stripped away, tragedies cease to be accidents and become inevitabilities.
Hong Kong is moving down that irreversible path.
“Save Hong Kong”—this cry has echoed from 2019 to the present.
