Q. and A.: Nick Holdstock on Xinjiang and ‘China’s Forgotten People’
The New York Times, 13 August 2015
By Ian Johnson – Four years after the town of Yining, in the far western Chinese region of Xinjiang, was rocked by violent protests in 1997 over the execution of independence advocates, Nick Holdstock arrived to spend a year as an English teacher. The experience resulted in his first book, “The Tree That Bleeds: A Uighur Town on the Edge,” a portrait of a community divided between the Uighurs, the mostly Muslim Turkic group native to Xinjiang, and the ethnic Han who dominate China.
In his latest book, “China’s Forgotten People: Xinjiang, Terror and the Chinese State,” Mr. Holdstock analyzes terror attacks in Xinjiang, arguing that most of the problem is a response to draconian Chinese government policies that began in the early 2000s. In an interview, Mr. Holdstock, 41, who now lives in Edinburgh, Scotland, and is the author of the recently published novel “The Casualties,” discussed terrorism, Uighur popular music and Xinjiang’s changing demographics. Following are excerpts:
Your first book on Xinjiang gave us a sense of the texture of life that one doesn’t often get out of that part of the country. What were your goals for “China’s Forgotten People”?
After the 2014 Kunming terrorism attacks [a stabbing in the city’s railway station that left 33 people dead], a lot of the Western media were writing as if there had been a long and very established record of terrorism in Xinjiang, when in fact they were just repeating claims that the Chinese government has been making since the 9/11 attacks in New York in 2001. The book is an attempt to provide a corrective to these views for a nonspecialist audience.
Many of the attacks are blamed on the East Turkestan Islamic Movement. What do we know about this group?
Very little. The problem with ETIM is that it’s a vague and shadowy organization, one that may do little except post videos to the Internet. Security experts even today talk about them as if they were Al Qaeda. But these charges are poorly substantiated. A lot of the incidents that are called terrorism are ambiguous at best, not only in terms of what happened but also the motivations of those responsible. There hasn’t been an organized set of actors who are taking credit for the violence, or who are credibly implicated.
One problem with trying to understand what’s happening in Xinjiang is that it’s rarely covered in the media unless the story has an Islamic component or some violence has occurred.
How is Xinjiang portrayed inside China?
Until fairly recently, the government’s media narrative was that everything was fine. All most people knew about Xinjiang was the ethnic minority singing and dancing shows they saw on state TV. It was only after 9/11 that the government put forth a different narrative. And after the Urumqi riots in 2009, a lot of people throughout China really had a shift in perception. Xinjiang went from being a place of benevolent minstrels and fruit to a place of violence and danger.
One point you make is that violence isn’t confined to Xinjiang. There have been violent clashes across China over land and resources.
Yes, I wanted to put events in Xinjiang within the framework of national policy. We see a rural-urban divide across China, as well as pressures for water and other resources. In the book, I argue that the impoverishment of rural parts of Xinjiang, especially in the predominantly Uighur south of the region, isn’t the result of purely ethnic discrimination. But given all the other cultural, linguistic and religious restrictions imposed on Uighur communities, it’s unsurprising that many Uighurs perceive it that way.
What do we know about reports about limits on so-called Islamic dress, or forced alcohol sales?
There are definitely local officials who are enforcing policies like selling alcohol in predominantly Uighur areas or trying to ban women from wearing veils. The problem is we don’t have good information. We don’t have reporters going to these places very much and we don’t have much contact with daily life in these places either.
One point you make is that popular culture is a force for change in Xinjiang. You discussed one song about a guest who comes to a house and never leaves — obviously a symbol for Han Chinese moving to Xinjiang.
Yes, that tells you more about how people are feeling than an explosion somewhere. These songs and poems aren’t expressing grievances inspired by jihadist ideology. They instead reflect the concerns of many ordinary people in these communities.
Do they get distributed?
People swap them. Uighur-language websites, despite being heavily monitored and often shut down, are still a way for people to share things. Among younger people or more Internet-savvy people, there are popular culture items that make allusions to political issues. I don’t think the censors have enough Uighur-language proficiency to identify these things quickly enough for them not to have some impact.
In the academic field, China has struck back against Western historiography on the Qing dynasty [1644-1912], which sometimes argues that China’s control over Xinjiang only really goes back to the 18th century and was due to conquest and even genocide.
In China, it’s not up for debate. If they allow any equivocation over that issue, it’s fatal to their main argument that Xinjiang has always been part of China. But you could throw the same question at the idea that all the dynasties are “Chinese.”
What do you make of overseas-based lobby groups, like the World Uyghur Congress?
They have had an impact in raising awareness, especially in the U.S., of Xinjiang. So they should be applauded. But the demands of activism and advocacy have sometimes led them to overstate their case or be very selective with facts. It’s been a great shame, because a bit more care would have had just as much impact and not left them open to charges of misrepresentation.
How do they overstate their case?
They’re not trustworthy when it comes to the details of incidents, say, casualty reports. They act as if everything is a deliberate attempt to discriminate against Uighurs, when sometimes it’s a national policy that’s been poorly implemented in Xinjiang. They use overly emotive words like “genocide” that aren’t warranted. During the 2009 Urumqi riots [protests in the regional capital of Xinjiang that turned violent, killing at least 197 people], there was information distributed by the World Uyghur Congress about people being beheaded on the street and pregnant women being killed. It’s these kinds of not entirely considered actions that hurt them.
The group’s head, Rebiya Kadeer, often doesn’t mention that she served as a government adviser.
Her autobiography is a sort of self-reinvention. She claims she was always working in the system to benefit her people and it was only when that became impossible that she left. Retrospectively, she has a narrative to explain how she became the richest woman in China before she was arrested [in 1999 on charges of leaking state secrets, and released in 2005 on medical grounds]. She claims it was so she could help disadvantaged Uighur communities.
In many parts of China we see a religious revival. What about Xinjiang? When we see more Islamic dress and behavior, is this a religious revival?
I don’t think it’s the same as in many Han parts of the country. In Xinjiang, many Uighurs have turned to religion in order to accentuate the differences between themselves and the Han. It’s not a backlash against materialism or that sort of thing.
Do you believe the demographic data that says the area is still divided evenly: 40 percent Han, 40 percent Uighur and 20 percent other? Or are the Han in the majority already?
The hukou [household registration] system still has many Han registered in other places, so they might not show up in the census. So it’s got to have shifted over. But it’s politically difficult to admit that Han are now the majority ethnic group in a supposedly Uighur autonomous region.
Xinjiang seems different from Tibet in that, while many Han can’t seem to hack the high altitude in Tibet, they don’t mind Xinjiang.
Yes, the climate is more acceptable. Urumqi is a really Han city and has been for a long time. It has big shopping malls that wouldn’t be out of place in any major Chinese city. You feel that the standard of living for Han is catching up. The contrast to the Uighur areas in Urumqi is noticeable. One doesn’t feel that there’s a lot of prosperity there.
Over all, what is China’s strategy in Xinjiang?
I wonder if there’s a 20- or 30-year strategy for the region. There may be the hope that if they continue Han settlement while marginalizing Uighur identity, then dissent will just go way. And maybe it will. They’re mainly investing in core industries and still encouraging settlers from inner China. I don’t think that the level of violence is going to be severe enough to make the authorities want to engage with the problem. They are managing it domestically quite well — the way they’ve spun it to the populace. I’m not sure if they’re interested in any dialogue with Uighur communities that have grievances.
Does your new novel, “The Casualties,” have anything to do with Xinjiang?
Nothing, although Urumqi does get a mention. The book is a preapocalyptic fable about the lives of people who don’t fit into mainstream society. It’s about catastrophes, both personal and global, and the difficulty of change.