Muslims feel the long arm of Beijing
In Xinjiang, which is of strategic importance to China, Uighurs try to maintain their culture despite strict oversight.
Mark Magnier
23 October 2006
Los Angeles Times

HOTAN, CHINA -- Mullah Masude, 63, removes his shoes and gingerly navigates an expanse of cheap carpeting in the Jaman mosque's main worship area before climbing a set of rickety steps to the roof.

Powered by a good set of lungs and lots of practice, the cleric belts out the afternoon call to prayer. Despite his best efforts, the chant is all but drowned out by the din of a single-stroke tractor engine and a passing bus.

Beijing bars mullahs from using loudspeakers, one of dozens of rules critics say are designed to mute Islam's voice in China, particularly among the Uighur minority here in the far-western region of Xinjiang, which the government considers a separatist threat.

Signs and banners at mosque entrances in Hotan, Kashgar and other western cities make it clear who is boss.

"Completely abide by the Communist Party's religious policy," reads an oversized banner straddling the gate of Hotan's Imam Asim tomb, half a mile over desert dunes from the nearest road. "Actively lead religion toward a just socialist society."

More than 2,000 miles to the east, Beijing seems a world away, which partly explains officials' deep-seated fear that the region's more than 8 million Uighurs will unite to form an independent state.

Mutton and flat bread trump pork and rice as the cuisine of choice, blue eyes and light skin are common, and many people speak only a few words of Mandarin.

Although most Uighurs are proud of their history, distinct language and centuries-old culture, they tend to see a Uighur homeland as a distant dream, given Beijing's tight grip and economic clout.

"I'm not in favor of it, nor do I think it's possible," said Elham Adl, 22, a Uighur tour guide in Dushanzi, a town in northern Xinjiang. "I don't want to see Xinjiang become a second Iraq. And if Xinjiang became independent, we'd lose access to China's big market."

But Beijing isn't taking any chances, critics say, and it continues to intimidate the clergy, weaken Uighur culture through assimilation policies and otherwise stifle dissent.

The strategy has been successful, largely putting an end to the bombings, protests and unrest of the 1990s, though some say China has only driven resentment underground.

"They put out the fire," said Dru C. Gladney, an anthropologist and president of Pomona College's Pacific Basin Institute. "But the embers are smoldering. And unless they address hearts and minds, it will flare again."

The government's iron grip underscores Xinjiang's strategic importance. The region has huge reserves of oil, gas, gold and uranium. It is home to the nation's Lop Nor nuclear testing facility.

With 17% of Chinese territory but just 1.5% of its people, Xinjiang is an important release valve for population pressures. It's a buffer against rival Russia. And any loosening would set a precedent for pro-independence movements in Taiwan and Tibet.

"Xinjiang is very important to China's security," said Raphael Israeli, a fellow at the Truman Research Institute at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. "They will have to do what it takes when a rebellion becomes evident."

In the meantime, Beijing is working to soften local hearts and minds to its position, albeit in a sometimes heavy-handed manner.

'Love the motherland'

Ayinoor, a Uighur civil servant in her early 20s, is required to attend ideology classes for two hours a day aimed at hammering home the glories of the Communist Party, the danger of separatism and the benefits of national unity. Like others interviewed, she declined to give her family name for fear of losing her job.

If lecturing doesn't win her over, there's music, including a version of the party's recent "Eight Virtues and Eight Shames" campaign that she's required to sing, with such lines as "It's most glorious to love the motherland, a great sin to harm her." There's economic incentive: If she doesn't do well on a weekly political thought quiz, her pay is docked.

"I'm only telling you this," she said in the shadow of the historic Id Kah mosque in Kashgar, near two police cars and an army truck and a sign that read, "All ethnic groups warmly welcome the party's religious policies."

"At work I have to say, 'I love everything Han Chinese' or I get into trouble," she said, referring to the majority ethnic group.

Uighur clerics had ignored the ban on government employees entering mosques. But religious authorities started threatening their jobs as well. Now they report on attendees, who risk losing their jobs or worse. More than 300 Uighur civil servants have been jailed in recent years for their beliefs, locals say, and some were beaten to death.

Government officials were not available for comment, and the figure could not be verified.

Beijing's longer-term goal is to create a new generation of Mandarin-speaking Uighurs with fewer ties to Islam or traditional Uighur culture, critics say, including programs that send the brightest young Uighurs to Mandarin-only schools in other provinces.

"Chinese is very difficult, but it's the language of the marketplace," said Shiaili, 14, a student in Urumqi. "I've studied for two years. Sometimes I forget some of my Uighur."

Government officials did not respond to written requests for an interview. But Chinese minority and ethnic affairs officials in the past have denied trying to dilute Uighur culture and say they're raising living standards and spurring entrepreneurship, as seen, they say, by an economy that has grown forty-twofold since 1955.

But government officials also promise to remain vigilant. They blame separatist groups for more than 200 terrorist attacks since 1990, resulting in 162 deaths and more than 440 injuries.

"In Xinjiang, the separatists, religious extremists and violent terrorists are all around us," Wang Lexiang, Xinjiang's deputy chief of public security, said in August. "In China, endangering national security is the No. 1 crime. We have to crack down on it severely."

The Sept. 11 attacks gave Beijing a new argument, allowing it to tar pro-independence Uighurs as radical Muslims with ties to Al Qaeda, claims that are viewed with skepticism.

"China saw 9/11 as the best opportunity since 1949 to crack down on Uighur people," said Alim Seytoff, general secretary of the Washington-based Uighur American Assn., which advocates the creation of an independent state called East Turkistan through nonviolent means. "China makes allegations that can't be proven, but after 9/11 it's very hard to champion your cause if you're Muslim."

Wary of the link between religion and politics, China prohibits anyone younger than 18 from entering a mosque or receiving a Muslim education.

"I don't know if it's right or wrong, but it's the law," said Sulika, 43, a former soldier turned fruit seller, chomping down on a stew of sheep organs and intestine casings stuffed with rice.

Schools also require students to eat during Ramadan, the Muslim holy month of fasting and atonement. "If they don't eat, they get disciplined by the teachers," Sulika said.

Religious study for prospective clerics and others older than 18 must take place in heavily monitored government schools and after an extensive background check. At that age, many young Uighurs don't bother, having been seduced by video games and modern distractions.

"By that time, most aren't interested," said Ma Xueliang, a Muslim cleric at the Qinghai mosque in Urumqi.

If persuasion and distraction don't work, there's brute force. Xinjiang is riddled with informants, human rights activists say, amid claims that 1,000 Uighurs were executed and more than 10,000 imprisoned during a 1996-97 crackdown. Detentions have fallen off more recently, they say, because intimidation tactics are working.

"Control over Xinjiang society is very minute," said Nicholas Bequelin, a China researcher with Human Rights Watch. "It's impressive and reminiscent of Soviet Union times."

New generation of mullahs

After 1990, the authorities replaced many longtime mullahs with a new generation educated in Chinese patriotic programs, and began paying their salaries directly and requiring annual license renewals.

In many parts of Xinjiang, mullahs are required to clear their Friday sermons, limited to 30 minutes, with local religious affairs bureaus and are punished for deviating from the script. Those who resist Chinese policy, by arguing, for instance, against abortion or family planning policies on religious grounds, are fired or jailed.

"My neighbor, an imam, was arrested 12 years ago for saying something the government didn't like," said one Uighur government worker, who asked not to be identified. "He's still in jail. Their message is clear: Keep your mouth shut."

In addition to its internal campaigns over the last decade, Beijing has tried to cut off links with ethnic Uighurs in neighboring countries by pushing for extradition treaties with Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan.

"China has been very successful at portraying Uighurs as terrorists and themselves as victims of terrorism, while they manipulate Islam through their control over mosques," Seytoff said. "It's really not easy trying to stand up to such a powerful country and an emerging superpower."

mark.magnier@latimes.com

Hurdles on the road to Mecca for mainland Muslims
A new deal on visas between China and Saudi Arabia is set to squeeze the number of Chinese pilgrims headed for Mecca, writes Kristine Kwok.
24 October 2006
South China Morning Post

Arzuguli Saidulla closed her hardware store in Urumqi , Xinjiang , early last month and left home on the journey of a lifetime for most Muslims - her first haj pilgrimage to Mecca.

But before arriving in Islam's holiest city, the 42-year-old and more than 5,000 other pilgrims from the northwestern region first headed to Pakistan. They were following in the footsteps of many other Xinjiang Muslims, who have routinely obtained Saudi Arabian visas from the kingdom's embassy in Islamabad before the annual pilgrimage.

This year it took much longer for the Chinese Muslims to get their visas. Ms Saidulla, a mother of one, finally got her visa on October 14.

"It was so tiresome that we had to go to the embassy every day to wait for the visa," Ms Saidulla said from Rawalpindi, near Islamabad. "There were so many people."

The long wait was the result of a change in policy after the Chinese and Saudi governments agreed in May that all Chinese passport holders on the haj must go through the official channels organised by the mainland's government-sanctioned Chinese Patriotic Islamic Association, instead of a third country.

This meant pilgrims should collect visas through the Saudi embassy in Beijing and a permit from the Chinese Patriotic Islamic Association.

Upset by the refusal of the Saudi embassy in Islamabad to issue them with visas, the Xinjiang Muslims, some of whom arrived in Pakistan as early as August, protested outside the embassy for weeks until the Saudi government relented on October 3 and said visa requests would be processed in Pakistan again this year - for the last time.

"We were thrilled by the announcement, I never thought going on the haj could be this tedious," Ms Saidulla said. She finally set off for Saudi Arabia on October 15.

An official from the Islamic branch of the mainland Ministry of Religious Affairs, who gave his surname as Ma, said the new policy was designed to weed out "illegal snakeheads" who were making money by organising haj tours. "Haj is a religious activity, it should be organised by a religious organisation," he said.

But the Washington-based Uygur American Association said the change of policy could be a way to control the number of Uygurs undertaking the pilgrimage.

"Or it could be a measure to more effectively monitor who is going on pilgrimage," the association said in a statement.

Li Jinxin , a researcher from the Xinjiang Academy of Social Sciences, said that by requiring the pilgrims to travel in government-organised groups, the authorities were also trying to prevent the Muslims from contacting undesirable foreign influences, such as terrorists, extreme religious groups and pro-independence groups.

"There have been cases that when some Xinjiang Muslims went on the haj by themselves or through underground groups, they built up contacts with those people. This has caused concern in the government," he said.

Considered the world's biggest Islamic event, the haj attracts millions of pilgrims from around the globe to Mecca every January. The Koran says that every able-bodied Muslim should make the pilgrimage at least once in their lifetime if they can afford to do so.

Ms Saidulla is among a surging number of Chinese Muslims joining the Mecca pilgrims as China's economic boom helps to lift their living standards.

In the 1980s, Professor Li said, only a few hundred Muslims from Xinjiang would apply for a visa each year through the Patriotic Islamic Association. That figure had jumped to around 10,000 in recent years, he said.

But the surge in demand had been confined by a quota imposed by the Patriotic Islamic Association, which allowed only about 2,000 Xinjiang Muslims to go on the haj last year, Professor Li said.

The limited seats had sent would-be pilgrims, especially those without official connections, in search of visas in third countries such as Pakistan and Thailand.

"In the past, it was economic hardship that put people off from performing the pilgrimage. Now a lot more people have the financial ability to do so, but they still find it difficult to go to Mecca because of the quota imposed by the Islamic Association," Professor Li said. He said that in some cases those wishing to make the pilgrimage had to bribe the authorities to get a visa.

"Some people have complained to me that they were rejected by the Islamic Association five years in a row," he said.

Magied Alshamry, the head of the visa section at the Saudi Arabian embassy in Beijing, is also upset by the quota.

"I'd love to grant visas to everyone who comes to us, but they won't be able to leave China when they go to the airport without a permit from the Islamic Association. It's an embarrassment to us. It's a waste of my time and of our visas. The haj pilgrimage is for every Muslim in the world." But Mr Ma from the Ministry of Religious Affairs denied the mainland had ever imposed a quota.

He said the official Muslim population in China was around 21 million and the quota would be imposed only when applications reached 20,000.

The Chinese Patriotic Islamic Association had received up to 9,000 haj visa applications so far and the eventual figure was expected to top 10,000, Mr Ma said.

About 6,900 mainland Muslims performed the pilgrimage through the association last year, he added.

Professor Li said most Chinese haj pilgrims were Muslims from Xinjiang and members of the Hui minority, who preferred to apply for visas in Thailand.

Xinjiang Muslims have been collecting their Saudi visas in Pakistan since as early as 1980s, before China established diplomatic relations with Islamabad in 1990, according to Abdulla Ahmad, a Xinjiang native who is now a business consultant in Beijing.

By going to a third country, Chinese Muslims could travel to Mecca without a permit from the Chinese Patriotic Islamic Association and avoid expensive tour packages provided by the authorities, he said.

"Most of the haj pilgrims are from southern Xinjiang, and most of them are impoverished and poorly educated. They think it will be cheaper to go through unofficial channels via Pakistan," Mr Ahmad said.

"But it doesn't necessarily save them money because they are sometimes ripped off or cheated."

Ms Saidulla said she would rather have got her visa in Beijing.

"They didn't tell me about this when I collected my visa to Pakistan in Beijing. If I knew about this I would definitely apply for a Saudi visa in Beijing. That would have saved me a lot of time and I wouldn't be away from home for such a long time," she said.

Mr Ahmad, who plans to go on the haj in the next few years, said the new policy would make it safer for the pilgrims.

"Most Chinese Muslims can't speak the local language in Mecca, and some have never travelled abroad. It happens a lot that they get lost there," he said.

Snake wine helps keep border traffic flowing
Repairing crumbling roads across central Asia is only half the battle in creating a transport network for the region.
By MURE DICKIE
23 October 2006
Financial Times

As he waved a bottle of clear spirits containing red berries and the carcass of a small snake, the Kyrgyz border guard's sign language was very clear: next time truck driver Cai Chaojun crossed from China, he should bring more of the same medicinal drink.

Such demands from underpaid officials for contributions in cash or kind are just one of the difficulties facing people who carry goods or do business across the borders of Central Asia.

Poor road conditions pose another problem for Mr Cai and his heavy truck on their weekly trips into Kyrgyzstan from Kashgar city in China's far-western region of Xinjiang.

"The road is terrible," he says. "Up in the mountains, when we have a load we sometimes cannot move at all because of all those big rocks and sand."

Removing obstacles to trade, tourism and investment has become a central development challenge for Central Asia, a strategic and cultural crossroads that is one of the world's poorest regions.

In a report last year, the United Nations Development Programme said closer co-operation among Central Asia's former Soviet states could raise incomes by 50-100 per cent over 10 years.

Better transport links are top of the agenda for the Central Asia Regional Economic Co-operation forum (Carec), which groups Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Azerbaijan, along with China and Mongolia.

The 1991 collapse of the Soviet Union left many Carec members struggling to maintain their basic infrastructure. New borders cut across roads and railways, prompting scarce resources to be poured into new internal routes.

Now, however, making Mr Cai's life easier is an international priority: the road he travels has been identified as an important corridor linking China with the Kyrgyz second city of Osh and reaching on to neighbouring Uzbekistan. Some progress has already been made. The road's first 18km within Kyrgyzstan is smooth going, thanks to a Rmb60m (Dollars 7.6m, Pounds 4m, Euros 6m) "rehabilitation" project last year paid for by China. There are plans for similar work on stretches near Osh. But much of the trip to the Chinese border remains a bone-jarring high-altitude trial for travellers and a harsh test for any truck and its load.

Still, the adoption last week by Carec of a "Comprehensive Action Plan" should help to secure funds to repair the most difficult stretches, cutting travel times by more than half.

Kubanychbek Mamaev, Kyrgyz deputy minister for transport, is hoping for loans from China and a deal that would see Beijing pay rehabilitation and maintenance costs in return for mineral rights.

Recent rehabilitation work on the highway between Osh and the Kyrgyz capital Bishkek were so successful, Mr Mamaev says, that he now has a new problem on the route: speeding.

"The only worry is how to reduce the number of accidents," he says.

As Mr Cai's snake wine experience suggests, however, repairing roads will be only half the battle. Carec is also seeking to smooth cross-border traffic by addressing such "software" problems as poorly run borders, divergent transport rules and unpredictable tariff regimes.

Attempts to smooth traffic between Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan, for example, have faced a number of obstacles.

For a few days after the introduction of high-tech equipment at one customs post, trucks were "just flying across the border", says an Asian Development Bank official.

"But then (border officials) started to realise they were not making any money and things started to break down," he says.

Similar problems could threaten the gains from construction of a planned new customs post on the Osh-Kashgar road that is to be largely funded by Beijing.

Travellers already contend with multiple checkpoints - including one set up by officers of China's People's Liberation Army that, local Chinese border guards suggest, should not exist at all.

Border closures for long lunches, national holidays and bad weather bring many shipments to a standstill. Kyrgyz officials say China maintains a ban on foreign vehicles within its borders, a stance that could reduce future willingness to allow passage to Chinese trucks.

As for Mr Cai, he says he now plans to bring a batch of snake wine on his next trip across the border.

Even if the usual small cash contributions prove enough to smooth their passage, however, he and his comrades still have a lot of hard travelling ahead.

Construction of Second Desert Road in Xinjiang Accelerated
23 October 2006
China Industry Daily News

According to October 20th reports, the roadbed construction of the second desert road in Xinjiang, which crosses the Taklimakan Desert, was completed at the beginning of July 2006. Currently, more than 240km of asphalt road surface have been completed, with the construction progress 5 months ahead of schedule. The 423.5km-long road starts from Alaer in the North and terminates at Hetian in the South, involving a total investment of RMB1.05bn.