We used to joke about Hong Kong’s terror laws, but now my friends and family have gone silent | Alan Lau

Zrowing, I always dreamed of becoming a policeman like my uncle. In my childhood in the 1980s and 1990s, the police had a positive and brave image. I remember when I was in first or second grade and struggling with English, my uncle would tutor me. After our lessons, I would stay at his house to play. He had a punching bag next to his bed and he was teaching me how to punch and do one-arm push-ups.

My uncle was showing off his arm muscles, telling me his dream was to become a police officer who fights crime and protects the innocent. Eventually he did. And in his graduation photo in a police uniform, he stood tall and proud – a hero in my eyes.

I also remember once being harassed by three gang members on the way home from school. My father, after learning about the incident, took me to the nearest police station to file a report. The officer who took the report reassured me by saying there was nothing to fear. He even gave me a phone number to call in case of problems. His words made me feel safe.

But by the summer of 2019 excessive violence used by police against pro-democracy protesters in Hong Kong tarnished that image. One of my fellow journalists, who was standing just a few meters away from me, was blinded in one eye when he was hit by a rubber bullet fired by the police. The police were already referred to as “black cops”, while Hong Kong residents were disparagingly called “cockroaches” by the police.

I hadn’t seen my uncle for many months until a family funeral in the summer. He knew I joined the protests. He looked me up and down and asked, “How much do they pay you to protest in the streets?” I frowned and replied, “Do the protesters even get paid? If they do, I’d like to know where to sign up.” He seemed unable to understand why anyone would protest without being paid to do so.

Today, instead of reporting harassment to the police, Hong Kong residents receive rewards for reporting national security cases by calling or texting a new national security hotline. It is one of the elements of the new national security law – initiated after the pro-democracy protests, which provides for life imprisonment for crimes including treason and sedition.

When the hotline was first announced, my friends and I joked about it. I remember at a dinner gathering when someone mentioned that they had received the Sinovac Covid-19 vaccine made in China, another friend would say “report it to national security”.

Of course, we all knew it was just a joke among friends. However, as time went on, it was no longer funny. We stopped discussing sensitive topics in public. We didn’t know if people around us might be secretly recording our conversations and actually report us to the national security police.

Surveillance has spread to every corner of life in Hong Kong. In addition to facial recognition technology cameras installed on streets and alleys, cameras can be found in large shopping malls, stores, public transportation, taxis, and the lobbies and elevators of residential buildings.

The day before I left Hong Kong in 2021, I visited the Admiralty for the last time. It is the location of the seat of government and where the pro-democracy movements of 2014 and 2019 began. It holds many memories for me. I loved photographing the pedestrian bridge that connects the subway station to the government headquarters and the beautiful sunsets you can see from there.

Today, however, the bridge is covered on both sides with thick layers of barbed wire and, although it is less than 200 meters long, it is already equipped with more than 10 surveillance cameras. I feel like I’m in prison.

Trust between people began to erode, replaced by white terror. This sense of mistrust extends beyond strangers to include friends I’ve known for over 20 years. In social media groups with my friends in Hong Kong, some have stopped talking altogether, afraid to voice opinions and be reported.

“Now I live with a mask every day,” one of my friends told me recently. “There are so many things I’m unhappy about, but I don’t dare to speak because I’m afraid of being reported.” I really hate myself right now. But all those who are left are like me – they are silent, they pretend that nothing happened.”