I lived in Hong Kong from 2019 to 2024, and I eventually decided to leave. I’ve lived in and visited many places around the world, but in my experience Hong Kong was the most miserable and depressing place, at least for me. Looking back, I regret staying as long as I did and not leaving earlier.
I don’t think Hong Kong is a ‘bad’ place for everyone, some people do enjoy Hong Kong. This is a personal account, alongside some statistics that help explain why living there felt so difficult. Others may feel differently.
Hong Kong is widely known for its skyline and its role as a global hub—a gateway between East and West. But beyond the skyline, daily life often reflects a harsher reality, shaped by a chronic housing crisis that has persisted for decades, an economy dominated by tycoons, aging infrastructure, and deteriorating social indicators. This post looks at the structural challenges ordinary residents face—strains driven by land scarcity, market incentives, and policy trade-offs, often at the expense of well-being and quality of life.
For a visual look, see these videos:
- (Hong Kong is a Dystopia) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNL4uk3vbm0
- (How Hong Kong became one of the world’s most unequal cities) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hR67NxGhTYs&t=16s
- (Inside Hong Kong’s Tiniest Cage Homes) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXSme_qQgHA
The Housing Crisis
Hong Kong’s housing crisis is the product of land constraints, market dynamics, and policy choices shaped by the territory’s fiscal model. In particular, the land revenue system with roots in the colonial era ties a meaningful share of public finances to land and property values, creating an inherent tension: measures that protect fiscal stability can also reinforce high prices and limited supply.
But the crisis isn’t just “housing is expensive.” It shows up in daily life as cramped living conditions, long-term financial strain, and second-order effects that ripple through the wider economy.
- Coffin and cage homes: Over 220,000 people live in subdivided units, some averaging just 48 ft² (4.5 m²) per person. For thousands, the situation is far worse: “coffin homes” or wire cages stacked in windowless rooms, with as little as 15 ft² (1.4 m²) of space. Elderly residents pay upwards of HK$2,000 (US$250) a month to sleep in bedbug-infested wire mesh cages.
- Shrinking living spaces: Many public housing flats are only 200–300 ft² (19–28 m²)—barely enough for a bed, a small table, and a narrow walkway. Meanwhile, private developers have pushed “nano-flats” as small as 120 ft² (smaller than a parking space). Families with children cram into units where the living room becomes a bedroom, the kitchen becomes a corner with a hot plate, and storage is effectively nonexistent. In Hong Kong, 400 ft² (37 m²) is often considered “spacious.”
- The world’s least affordable market: Hong Kong consistently ranks as the world’s least affordable housing market. Reports from 2024 cite price-to-income ratios commonly in the 18–23× range. A 400 ft² flat can easily cost HK$8 million (US$1 million), turning a minimal living space into decades of mortgage payments.
- Artificial scarcity: A handful of major property tycoons (“the big four”) benefit from and help sustain limited effective supply—through tight control of developable land, slow release of units, and a political economy that favors high prices. In that framing, scarcity isn’t only “natural” land constraint; it’s also an incentive structure.
- The commercial rent trap: Sky-high property values don’t only squeeze households; they also raise commercial rents. Small businesses, local eateries, and startups struggle with overheads they can’t absorb. Over time, that pressure hollows out street-level variety, leaving streets dominated by the same generic chains—pharmacies, jewelry stores, and luxury brands—that are more capable of paying the landlord. The high cost of living is, in reality, the high cost of rent baked into the price of every bowl of noodles and every haircut.
An Economy Built on Concentration
Hong Kong’s impressive GDP figures are often emphasized. But headline numbers don’t say much about who captures the gains—or how everyday costs (especially housing and services) shape what life feels like for the resident.
A recurring pattern is sector concentration: from real estate and utilities to retail and telecommunications, a small set of incumbent players holds a lot of influence. In a city where land and commercial space are already scarce, that concentration can compound the sense that the economy works exceptionally well for asset owners, and much less well for everyone else.
- Widening inequality: “It’s not just unequal, it’s ridiculously unequal.” Some sources claim that the top 0.01% own 85% of the economy’s wealth, compared with around 35% in the second-most unequal society. This is consistent with Hong Kong’s high Gini coefficient, often reported in the ~0.52–0.54 range. Wealth concentration appears to have accelerated in recent years. A 2024 Oxfam report notes the top decile of households now earn 81.9 times more than the bottom decile—more than double the 2019 ratio. One in five people live below the poverty line.
- Incumbent-heavy economy: Economic activity remains concentrated in traditional sectors dominated by oligarchs—real estate, utilities, retail, transportation, and telecommunications.
- A thin innovation ecosystem: The technology sector, startup ecosystem, and venture capital culture remain underdeveloped. In practice, that means fewer alternative paths to upward mobility outside the established, incumbent-led sectors.
An Aging Cityscape
Beyond a handful of polished districts, the city can feel dated: cramped streets, aging buildings, and public spaces that often look under-maintained. In many neighborhoods, crowding and noise aren’t occasional annoyances—they’re the default backdrop setting.
- Over-crowding: Only about 25% of Hong Kong’s land is developed; the rest is country parks or rural land. The city fits 7.5 million people into a built-up area of roughly ~200 km². For comparison, Singapore has ~700 km² of developed land with a smaller population.
- Visible wear: Outside a few showcase areas, many neighborhoods look and feel worn. Places like Sham Shui Po, To Kwa Wan, and older parts of Hong Kong Island are marked by aging facades, water-stained walls, tangled overhead wiring, dripping air conditioner units, and narrow, crowded streets. Compared with nearby Shenzhen, the contrast can be stark—and this isn’t confined to isolated pockets; it shows up across much of residential Hong Kong.
- Slow urban renewal: Renewal often feels incremental and slow. Blocks can sit in limbo for years with only piecemeal fixes, so outside a few redeveloped corridors, the city keeps looking older (and more visibly unmaintained) over time.
The Human Cost
Taken together, these structural conditions translate into day-to-day psychological pressure.
- Mental health: A high-stress environment is associated with worrying mental health indicators. Some recent statistics put the suicide rate at roughly 14 per 100,000, with especially sharp increases among youth and elderly populations. One recent report in 2025 shows that over half of Hongkongers experience depressive symptoms.
- No space to breathe: In ultra-dense districts like Kwun Tong (often cited at over 57,000 people per km²), privacy becomes a scarce resource. Constant proximity and noise wear people down. It also shows up in broader social patterns: the marriage rate has fallen, and the birth rate is extremely low (around 0.7 by some estimates), often discussed as a symptom of how difficult it is to build a stable family life.
- Exit as a pressure valve: Between 2020 and 2023, hundreds of thousands of residents left the city. This outflow—often framed as “brain drain” among professionals and families—reflects deep dissatisfaction and anxiety about Hong Kong’s trajectory.
Conclusion
Hong Kong does offer real upsides: a strategic location, a strong rule of law, and low income taxes. But those strengths coexist with structural problems that shape daily life for ordinary residents. The skyline tells one story; the lived experience often tells another.
Ultimately, the city faces hard trade-offs between competitiveness and quality of life. When policy prioritizes headline metrics, basic human needs—affordable shelter, adequate space, and livable conditions—become increasingly difficult to obtain for much of the population.