China’s "war on terrorism" at home could be threatening to bury
"seeds for violence" according to an exiled Uyghur in America. The stepped-up
"strike hard" campaign against what is termed fundamentalism and separatism in
China’s Northwest since September 11th has left at least three Uyghurs
executed, three on suspended death row, and hundreds more detained and under suspicion.

While Uyghurs have been further grieved and frustrated, China could be storing up
trouble for itself, claims Huji Tuerdi, Uyghur human rights campaigner and chairman of the
Uyghur American Association.

Tuerdi, who regularly speaks out against the oppression of his people in Xinjiang, has
slated Beijing for its intensified "declaration of war" on the Uyghur people.
"It is outrageous that the People’s Republic of China is taking advantage of
that tragedy to perpetrate acts of violence against its citizens in Xinjiang Autonomous
region," he said, claiming that the peaceful struggle of the Uyghurs for self-rule
has nothing to do with terrorism.

China’s minority separatists have been under siege for five years. Beijing’s
first "Strike Hard" campaign this year in April 2001 resulted in 200 executions
and the detention of 10,000 suspects. The second assault this year, announced after
September 11th, according to campaigners, looks set to be buried under the
cloak of global condemnation of terrorism, giving Beijing carte blanche to clamp down on
anyone it deems to have "terrorist" leanings. The word "terrorism" is
used as a smokescreen to include any kind of opposition to its rule, according to Tuerdi.

Despite Chinese President Jiang Zemin’s tacit acceptance of President Bush’s
appeal to refrain from using the "war on terror" as an excuse to persecute
minorities" during his recent visit to Shanghai, Xinjiang’s party boss Wang
Lequan, was exultant during a recent regional parliamentary session at the success of
their clampdown. He reiterated Beijing’s commitment to maintaining a "high
pressure" attack initiative of "strike early and deal with the punishment
later."

Although nominally Muslim, historically the people of East Turkestan have been
variously Christian, Zoroastrian, Buddhist and Shaman. Draconian laws imposed by the
Communists have meant that for 52 years no child under 18 has been allowed to explore
their own religious heritage, or freely practise any faith. Because atheism is taught in
schools, Uyghurs tend to learn piecemeal from elders, many of whom themselves are
untrained. As a result, widespread ignorance pervades the religious culture. Religious
literature in Uyghur about any faith is like gold dust, and piety is inextricably
interwoven with nationalism and hatred for the Chinese. For a large number of those who
consider themselves Muslim, it is enough that they eschew pork and those who eat it.
Resentment of the Chinese is another key identity marker.

Uyghurs on the ground are a mixed bag when it comes to religious observance. Serious
believers tend to keep their heads down, particularly in areas where there have been
arrests in the past, and government workers of all kinds are forbidden to attend mosques.
In Gulja on the Kazakh border, for example, few Uyghurs dare wear their national skullcap,
following a massive clampdown in 1997, when a peaceful protest got out of hand and Chinese
troops opened fire. So-called ringleaders have been executed, two of them recently, and
hundreds now languish in prison.

A retired schoolteacher in Hami, to the east of the Taklamakan Desert, interviewed
during the first Strike Hard campaign this year, said he was proud to be a Muslim, with a
rider that "of course he was an atheist too on the orders of Beijing." "We
are all atheists if we work for the government," he laughed.

A jeans-clad, shorthaired woman law student in Urumchi, capital of Xinjiang, bemoaned
the fact that she was now "more Chinese than Uyghur". She even thought in
Chinese now following a yearlong intensive Chinese course to enable her to study at
University and integrate with her majority Chinese course-mates. When she returns to her
home village on the southern side of the Taklamakan Desert she has to change her clothing
and cover her face and head with a veil before she gets off the bus.

Uyghurs are more traditional in the south but although outward signs are more Islamic,
many of them also have very little idea of what it means to be a Muslim. "Girls and
women do not go to the mosque and there is no one to teach them what they believe,"
said a woman whose mother has to cover her face when entertaining visitors. They tend to
follow folk Islamic practices and superstitions handed down through generations, since the
opportunity for most outward observances are forbidden. Whatever their religious
practices, the major unifying force was their resentment of the Chinese.

Even Uyghurs acknowledge the problem that their Muslim faith gets mixed up with the
desire for an independent homeland. To be Muslim is often interpreted as to follow Uyghur
traditions and refuse to eat pork like the Chinese. Many have lost sight of faith
altogether.

A self-avowed "radical Islamic" young woman teacher in Gulja admitted that if
she could afford to buy guns, she would. When pressed however, the mini-skirted, hair
flowing, independent-minded chemistry teacher, explained her "radicalism" in
terms of a refusal to eat pork, in her opinion the "most heinous" crime in
Islam. She had no grasp of the requirements of her birthright, short of realising that
alcohol was forbidden. She could forgive that in men however given the strenuous economic
and political climate. "No-one can pray five times a day or go on the Hajj," she
said. " We have no money to give to the poor, and our men need to drink to
forget," she said.

Sidelined Uyghurs are denied a chance to learn about their religion in an informed
way and deprived of education because of their poverty. Coupled with the rapid influx of
Han Chinese into Xinjiang, who get the best jobs, a time bomb is being created. An army of
poor, uneducated, dissatisfied people, denied, but desperate for a voice in their own
land, is a recipe for revolution.

Local leaders have no forum to flex their political muscles and be honed in open
debate, and a movement whose headquarters is overseas could be prone to extreme elements
that do not fully appreciate the local situation. Crushing peaceful dissent can only
inflame tensions and weaken the case for both sides. By driving the debate and the
feelings underground, many Uyghurs become sitting targets for potential fundamentalists
determined to highjack the debate in the name of Islam. This would add legitimacy to
Beijing’s cause and risk the ire of Western governments, now terrified of any group
linked with "Islamic terrorism."

By Ruth Ingram