In the name of national unity, China demolishes symbols of Uyghur identity. What’s left is commercialized beyond recognition.

David Rennie got the cold shoulder when he traveled to Kashgar, a city in China’s Xinjiang autonomous region. As the Economist magazine’s China correspondent, he fell under the category of “foreign press,” which is always unwanted in Xinjiang. The Chinese government refuses to admit to the existence of detention facilities and labor camps that intern Uyghur Muslims, the region’s traditional inhabitants and predominant group. Armed guards prevented Rennie from even approaching the detention facilities. When a fellow journalist snapped pictures on their iPhone, authorities tried but failed to snatch the phone from their hands. When Rennie left, the same unmarked Volkswagen followed him for his entire stay. 

That the mere presence of a foreign journalist struck such fear into Xinjiang authorities signals their need to cover up the routine cruelty to which Uyghurs are subjected. By now, the practice is hardly a secret. Though still denied by the Chinese government, a sketch of life for Uyghurs in Xinjiang has become possible through satellite images, leaked government documents and diligent reporting. 

Xinjiang is home to nearly 16 million people of a Muslim ethnic background, the largest group being Uyghurs. Their distinct ethnic and religious identity threatens the Chinese government’s pursuit of national unity. To neutralize the threat, the government, led by Chinese President Xi Jinping, established a surveillance state to strictly police the region and imprison Uyghurs at detention facilities for crimes as meager as growing a beard, wearing a veil or refusing to watch state television. Though government propaganda paints a rosy picture of what occurs inside these facilities, firsthand accounts detail police brutality and torture, as well as education programs that demand Uyghurs renounce their identity and pledge loyalty to the Chinese Communist Party. 

Not all of the government’s tactics are so overtly cruel, however. David Rennie’s trip revealed just how much of the Uyghurs’ subjugation is cultural as well as physical. He saw not only suspicious industrial parks, where Uyghur labor is almost certainly exploited, but also the rubble where mosques once stood. Based on satellite images, it is estimated that roughly 8,000 mosques have been destroyed. Their Arab-style domes and minarets contribute to the “radical Islamic thinking” that officials strive to eradicate. 

Mosques that are not demolished meet a much more ignoble fate. As members of China’s Han majority ethnic group flock to Xinjiang for its natural beauty and low living costs, they bring in tow their own tastes, ambitions and preferences, causing extreme gentrification. Cafes and bars have taken the place of mosques. Han couples travel to Xinjiang to take wedding photographs in traditional Uyghur robes, all for a “special ethnic look,” in the words of one photographer’s assistant. The mosques left standing became museums catering to Han visitors. Religious pilgrims are turned away at the threshold. 

Zebra Commune in Kashgar is one such example of cultural erasure. Founded in 2019, the cafe primarily serves Han Chinese; one online reviewer expressed their admiration by saying, “I’m so pleased a shop is finally doing southern Xinjiang culture right.” Uyghurs couldn’t disagree more. One co-owner confessed that when the cafe first opened, bicycles outside had their tires slashed and fecal matter was left on the front steps. He attributed the anger to “misunderstandings” due to “the unique nature of the space.” The cafe’s property was once a mosque. 

Kashgar’s Afaq Khoja mausoleum demonstrates how state propaganda is supplanting traditional legend. Its namesake was a Sufi Muslim saint who inspired multiple uprisings against Chinese rule in the 19th century. The site is so sacred that pilgrims collect dust from the grounds. To nullify its symbolic power to Uyghur Muslims, officials linked the mausoleum to Xiang Fei, the “Fragrant Concubine” of Chinese folklore. The subject of poems, operas and a 1990s TV drama, she is said to have planned to assassinate the emperor with blades hidden in her sleeves, but when the plot failed, she was assassinated. According to imperial archives, she loved the emperor and died of illness. The Xiang Fei Garden, opened in 2015, rebranded the mausoleum as the “Fragrant Imperial Concubine’s Tomb” and calls her affection for the emperor a symbol for “reunification of the motherland.” Pilgrims are discouraged from collecting dust by the gates and guards surround the shrine. 

As investigators work through the Communist Party’s lies and deflections to arrive at the truth, the international community is taking notice and, more importantly, action. On his last day in office, former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo accused China of “genocide and crimes against humanity” against Uyghurs. Many welcomed the forceful statement, but others wondered why he waited until the last minute. Nevertheless, the Biden administration will most likely continue decrying the harsh treatment of Uyghurs. Antony Blinken, President Biden’s secretary of state, agrees that China’s actions amount to genocide.

It will be difficult for world powers to stop China, an economic behemoth. Detention facilities prove that the Communist Party is willing to commit any act, no matter how cruel, in the name of national unity, so tourist-driven erosions of Uyghur culture will surely continue. In Kashgar, countless former mosques have lost the domes, minarets and crescent moons that identify them as places of worship. Visitors rarely glean the buildings’ original purpose. One mosque was converted into a bar, praised by travelers for its generous servings of liquor. The ground floor, where Uyghur men once bowed in worship, is now a bathroom, labeled “Tourist Toilet.”

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Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.