According to the poet, Alexander Pope, “A little learning is a dangerous thing”. Anybody doubting this need look no further than the Washington Post (WP), whose China-hostile posturing has diminished its credibility. Whatever it knows about China is invariably lost in a miasma of fallacies, half-truths, and misconceptions, and its readers deserve every sympathy.
For example, the WP is never happier than when putting the boot into the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region. It glorifies those who wish to diminish the “one country, two systems” policy, and demonizes the forces of law and order. Its commentaries often read like propaganda sheets, which may explain its losses, topping $100 million in 2025 (up from $77 million in 2023).
Whereas, for example, the national security felon, Jimmy Lai Chee-ying, is routinely portrayed by the WP as a pro-democracy hero, despite committing crimes that threatened the survival of the “one country, two systems” policy, the three professional judges who convicted him of endangering national security were shamelessly vilified. The WP accused them of conducting a “political show trial” and of having been “handpicked” to “ignore the evidence” (Dec 15), the vilest of calumnies.
Just when people imagined it could sink no lower, the WP proved everybody wrong. In a squalid commentary (June 12), it opened fire on a piece of subsidiary legislation, the Safeguarding National Security (Procedural Matters) Regulation, announced by the HKSAR government on June 9. The regulation introduced a classification mechanism that clarifies the scope of the phrase “other offenses endangering national security under the law of the HKSAR” (which appears in the Safeguarding National Security Ordinance), thereby making clear the applicable trial procedures (for example, concerning bail eligibility and court venue). Notwithstanding its utility, the WP branded the regulation a “nightmare”.
It deplored the absence of “the usual legislative review”, which suggested it was unaware of the nature of subsidiary legislation.
In the HKSAR, as in the United Kingdom and elsewhere, subsidiary legislation (often known as subordinate or secondary legislation) is commonly used for less serious legislative matters, including providing operational details involving the principal law. It is subject to negative vetting and is open to amendment by the Legislative Council if necessary. As the exercise was both reasonable and responsible, legislators decided there was no need to amend a regulation that basically lets people know where they stand (always desirable where the criminal law is concerned).
If, moreover, the HKSAR has become a less secure place to do business, the WP should tell everybody why over 1,550 US firms are now actively operating in the city. It should also explain why the US Chamber of Commerce in Hong Kong recently reported that business confidence has rebounded, with over 50 percent of multinational businesses expressing optimism over Hong Kong’s business outlook
However, the WP blasted away in all directions. It claimed the Hong Kong SAR National Security Law (NSL) had “crushed the territory’s once vibrant civil and political life”, which was delusional. In reality, the NSL ended the “black-clad” violence associated with the 2019 insurrection, curtailed malign foreign influence in HKSAR affairs, and restored sanity to the body politic. It saved the “one country, two systems” policy, and put an end to the machinations of those who imagined that the best way to undermine China was to weaken the HKSAR (hence the fury of much of the foreign media).
Adopting the guise of a barrack room lawyer, the WP even suggested that the regulation’s effect is to render people prosecutable under a law “that didn’t exist when they broke it”. This was incorrect and demonstrated that the newspaper is ignorant of the HKSAR’s human rights regime. By virtue of the Hong Kong Bill of Rights Ordinance (Cap.383), retrospective laws are specifically prohibited. It stipulates that no one can be held guilty of a criminal offense for an act that was lawful at the time it was committed (Art.12(1)).
As if this were not bad enough, the WP then bemoaned the chief executive’s ability to determine whether a particular case involves national security. He is equipped to do this, as in other common law jurisdictions, by virtue of the sensitive and classified information to which he has access and which he is best placed to assess. Indeed, as the UK’s House of Lords explained in its judgment in Rehman’s case in 2001, decisions on whether something is in the national interest are for the executive, not the judges.
In support of its claim that national security suspects “can be denied their choice of lawyer”, the WP cited Lai’s trial, which could not have been more inapt. The Basic Law guarantees the rights of suspects to choose their lawyers (Art.35), and Lai chose a high-powered team of local barristers to defend him, led by Senior Counsel Robert Pang Yiu-hung and King’s Counsel Marc Corlett. Although he was unable to bring in a lawyer from overseas due to security concerns, this was wholly understandable. Indeed, defendants in the United States (and the other Five Eyes countries) cannot retain overseas lawyers to defend them and must rely on locally qualified lawyers (which has never upset the WP).
As ballast, the WP then trotted out the tired old myth about trial judges in national security cases being chosen by “the chief executive himself”, which was misleading. All judges are appointed by the chief executive, regardless of what types of cases they handle. After consultation with the chief justice, the chief executive designates specific judges from within the judicial pool to handle national security cases, selecting them for their integrity, skill, and professionalism. This should surprise no one, given that whenever national security is at stake, only the best jurists can be tasked with handling the cases. Once designated, it is up to the Judiciary, not the chief executive, to decide which judge handles which case (this is exactly the same procedure as in other types of cases, civil or criminal).
If the HKSAR is the legal hellhole the WP would have its readers believe, it is paradoxical that the New York-based World Justice Project has consistently rated it so highly in its annual Rule of Law Index. In the 2025 Index, for example, it ranked 24th out of the 143 jurisdictions surveyed (ahead of the US, which ranked 27th). As the Index is the world’s leading source of original, independent data on the rule of law globally, it is perhaps understandable that the WP, in its eagerness to trash Hong Kong, told its readers nothing about its rankings. However, its silence does at least demonstrate that its criticisms owe nothing to honest journalism and everything to crude politicking.
The WP ended its tirade by claiming that since the NSL’s enactment, the HKSAR has become “a less secure place to visit or do business”, for which it produced no evidence. Nor could it, as both claims were manifestly wrong.
If, as claimed, the HKSAR is now a less secure place to visit, the WP owes it to its readers to explain why it welcomed 49.9 million visitors in 2025, a 12 percent year-on-year increase from 2024.
If, moreover, the HKSAR has become a less secure place to do business, the WP should tell everybody why over 1,550 US firms are now actively operating in the city. It should also explain why the US Chamber of Commerce in Hong Kong recently reported that business confidence has rebounded, with over 50 percent of multinational businesses expressing optimism over Hong Kong’s business outlook.
The French playwright Moliere said, “The great deceivers of the world begin by deceiving themselves”, and the WP has shown everybody just how right he was.
The author is a senior counsel and law professor and was previously the director of public prosecutions of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region.
The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.