Researching people’s conditions, improving people’s lives and winning people’s hearts.’ Or Fanghuiju for short. But the jovial slogan loses its ring once it’s unveiled what it truly masks. A regime that is racist, callous and totalitarian. A full-fledged police state. A state that is committing the most extensive human rights violations in the world.
Xinjiang, an autonomous territory in northwest China, has been the focus of a concentrated government crackdown. Home to about 12 million Muslims, mostly ethnic Uighurs, it has become the site of a state campaign aimed at rooting out religious extremism and potential separatist movements.
However, what has resulted is nothing short of an Orwellian dystopia. Police stations mark every major intersection, humiliating inspections have become a daily reality for locals, and television and radio broadcasts insistently berate Uighur’s to love the party and blame themselves for their second-class status. The repressive policy innovations also involve brutal ‘education’ camps which the Chinese government is pouring considerable money into. Inmates number in the thousands and it is no wonder this is so when Uighur’s can be sent there for any, or no, reason. Stories from prisoners that have experienced these camps reveal unsettling realities that stem from having to thank Xi Jinping before being permitted to eat to enduring physical torture. The statistics are just as alarming as the stories; 21% of arrests in China in 2017 took place in Xinjiang, which accounts for merely 1.5% of China’s population. Advocacy group, Human Rights Watch has estimated that the overall number detained exceeds 800, 000.
Moreover, when this is coupled with the presence of new high-tech surveillance technologies Xinjiang becomes little more than a testbed. Identity cards are scanned, photographs and fingerprints are recorded, and mobile phones are taken by policy officers who download the contents for later analysis. Uighur’s go through these check points every day; multiple times a day. Police stations become more frequent than grocery stores. All shops and restaurants have part-time policeman on duty. On top of this a majority of the workers are enrolled in the police and are given a helmet and flak jacket to wear during shifts, just in case the police presence wasn’t apparent enough. Yet, whilst the florescent police jackets are certainly visible, the province is confronted with an equally extensive less visible regime that is ushering in increasing surveillance. Indeed, everyone in the Xinjiang region is given a rating by the government, a ‘citizen score.’ A high score gives the citizen advantages. On the other hand, if a political post is made online without a permit, or even worse, you have the audacity to contradict the government’s official narrative- this score decreases. In order to keep this score up to date, private companies working with the Chinese government constantly trawl vast amounts of social media and online shopping data.
The Chinese government has justified these measures by arguing that they are necessary to prevent violence associated with Uighur separatism. And there are indeed some worrying links between Uighur autonomy and global jihad. In 2013 a Uighur suicide-driver crashed his car into pedestrians in Tiananmen Square in Beijing. In 2014 a knife-wielding Uighur gang slaughtered 31 travellers at a train station in Kunming, Yunnan province, an incident often directly compared to the impact of the 9/11 attacks on America. Chinese and Syrian officials say 1,500 Uighurs have fought with Islamic State (IS) or Jabhat al-Nusra (part of al-Qaeda) in Syria. A group called the Turkestan Islamic Party, which demands independence for Xinjiang, is banned under anti-terrorist laws in America and Europe. In 2016 a defector from IS provided a list of foreign recruits; 114 came from Xinjiang.
However, the extent of repression in Xinjiang seems to go far beyond anything that would be justified as anti-terrorist measures. And whilst in theory these security measures are intended to apply to everyone in the region equally, in practice it resembles an apartheid regime. Muslims living in the Xinjiang region have become the special focus of these initiatives. Indeed, adherents of the Islamic faith must register with the police before being allowed to attend places of worship. Even then, at the entrance of most mosques, policeman sit in silent observation beneath a single banner; ‘Love the party, love the country.’ Following the prayers, the mosque now too has to accommodate classes for locals on how to be good communists.
In an age of flaming populist movements, this vilification engenders an important question; is it possible to love your country and your religion at the same time? The Chinese government is painting a narrative that the two are mutually exclusive. Extremist behaviour in the region includes merely drinking alcohol or having in your possession a religious text. A total of 29 Islamic names have been banned and may no longer be given to children. It paints a narrow image of what it means to be Chinese, and being Muslim is not on the canvas. This is despite freedom of religion being guaranteed by the Chinese Constitution.
Beyond being morally reprehensible, practically the initiative too appears at best, dubious and at worst, absolutely ineffective. The stated goal of this system is to capture and deter criminals. A core tenant to the Chinese government’s plan includes the ‘education’ camps, a affable name for what is really a forbidding large-scale prison system. However, counter-terrorism experts have long said that when containing frustrated, marginalised groups together, prisons do not mystically rehabilitate radical views, they instead have the potential to become extremist breeding-grounds. Therefore, forcing individuals into this prison system for, what is a majority of the time no valid reason, they are more likely to fuel greater irritation towards the state rather than renewed appreciation. The result; counterproductive.
This pervasive and repressive system is alarming. Beijing’s focus on domestic stability in response to international terrorist threats presents a system that is likely to implode from within. A Uighur man, Hasan, captures this sentiment; ‘Where there is no freedom there is tension. Where there is tension there are incidents. Where there are incidents there are police. Where there are police there is no freedom.’
People will not be afraid, they will be resentful. If China truly desires to ‘Research people’s conditions, improve people’s lives and win people’s hearts’ it’s time for this damaging policy to change.
