China Weaponizes Tourism to Erase Uyghur Culture

8,000 Uyghur mosques have been destroyed, and cafes and bars have taken their place, as China’s Han majority ethnic group flock to Xinjiang for its natural beauty. Mosques left standing have become museums catering to Han visitors, and religious pilgrims are turned away.

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Geopolitical Tensions Hinder Climate Science in the Himalayas

The Himalayas remain one of the most susceptible regions in the world to climate change.

A lake in the Himalayas. Kishor. CC2.0

In order to address the imminent threat of climate change in the Himalayan region, environmental ministers from eight countries had hoped to meet in Nepal’s capital of Kathmandu in April. Organized by the International Center for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD), it had taken over two years of convincing environmental leaders to work together as geopolitical tensions in the region continued to rise. An assessment conducted by ICIMOD reveals that the Himalayas are predicted to lose more than one-third of their ice caps by the end of the century, underscoring the importance of international collaboration on this issue. The event ended up being canceled, though, due to the rise of the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Passing through Afghanistan, Bhutan, China, India, Nepal and Pakistan, the Himalayas act as a barrier between countries. Home to four of the world’s 36 biodiversity hotspots and more than 35,000 plant and 200 animal species, the Himalayan region is one of the most biodiverse in the world. The Himalayas also contain the world’s third-largest ice deposits (after Antarctica and the Arctic) with over 15,000 glaciers scattered throughout the region. These glaciers, known as the “water towers of Asia,”  are the starting points for many of Asia’s largest rivers, such as the Indus, Ganges, Yangtze and Mekong, and help sustain over 2 billion people. 

Overflowing glacial lakes pose severe risks for mountain communities, as rising water levels from melted ice caps result in floods of water, ice and rocks down mountainsides, washing away homes, infrastructure and crops. Lake Imja in particular, a high-altitude lake near Mount Everest in Nepal, poses a threat to Sherpa communities living in the mountain valleys. 

A red panda, one of many species endemic to the Himalayan region. Ducker. CC2.0

From a geopolitical standpoint, the Himalayas have served as a political and cultural buffer between India and China since ancient times, which resulted in little interaction between their cultures and governments. As the Himalayas were considered impassable for much of history, the delineation of international borders was not given much importance until recently. Currently, however, nearly all of their 2,500-mile border is disputed. One of the most contested regions is Ladakh in northern India, where the most violent clashes in the last 45 years have recently occurred between India and China. Another region is the Mahakali river basin in northwestern Nepal, which acts as a meeting point between Nepal, India and China. The Himalayan region is also one of the most heavily militarized in the world. 

Dhankar village in India’s Spiti Valley. The Adventurous b3n. CC2.0

Despite the urgency of current climate science research and political action, scientific progress in the region continues to suffer. When the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released its fourth assessment report in 2007, the entire Himalayan region was listed as a “black hole” for data. Although governments tried to address the problem, there still has not been much action, with similar concerns in the IPCC’s fifth assessment report published in 2014. One of the major difficulties is weak data-sharing between countries, which is fraught with secrecy. Although scientists advocate for open data-sharing between countries, many governments disregard their requests for national security reasons. “To be frank, scientific culture doesn’t have deep roots in this region,” says Dipak Gyawali, Nepal’s former water resources minister. “Countries think somebody else will use the science that they are doing. That is wrong. Science ultimately benefits others beyond borders.”

Climate change remains one of the most existential threats to humanity. Working together to address transnational environmental issues in the Himalayas will not only protect its fragile ecosystems but will also foster diplomacy and peace between nations in a politically volatile part of the world. 

Megan Gürer

is a Turkish-American student at Wellesley College in Massachusetts studying Biological Sciences. Passionate about environmental issues and learning about other cultures, she dreams of exploring the globe. In her free time, she enjoys cooking, singing, and composing music.

Welcome to the Jungle: Badaling’s Wildlife Park

You can't just stroll into the park. You have to take one of its special "zoo buses"...and pay for it. The initial ride is fairly benign, but after passing through a security checkpoint, you can literally see lions, tiger and bears swirling around the bus you are riding in. These animals spend their lives here at the park and have grown accustomed to vehicles passing through their enclosures—they know you're coming long before you do. As your fellow passengers pull out their phones and snap pictures, you notice a steel cage riveted to the floor of the bus. It’s filled with chickens. For 40 yuan ($6.30) you can buy one of these chickens and toss it to the animals outside. It’s not an option for the squeamish, of course, but an option nonetheless.

The entrance to the Badaling Wildlife Park. Jonathan Robinson.

The zoo bus. Jonathan Robinson.

The Badaling Wildlife Park outside of Beijing is known for giving its guests an up-close-and-personal experience with exotic animals. If you've got the funds, the park staff can also arrange for live chickens, sheep, even cows to be served to those animals for your viewing pleasure. Critics call this practice cruel and inhumane, but live animal feedings are fairly common at zoos and wildlife parks throughout China.

Every bus comes with its own chicken cage. Jonathan Robinson.

A white tiger. Jonathan Robinson.

If tourists aren't careful, they can find themselves on the menu as well. Two years ago, a woman was attacked when, after an argument with her husband, she decided to exit the car that she, her husband, and her mother were riding in and make the rest of the trip on foot. Surveillance videos show her being dragged away by a Siberian tiger, as her husband and mother look on in horror. The woman’s mother eventually exited the vehicle and jumped on the tiger, saving her daughter's life at the cost of her own. The park paid out a settlement of 1.2 million yuan ($299,917.52) following the incident. Last year, a male patron was bitten by a bear as he fed the animal through the driver's side window of his car. Despite these and other incidents, the park is still as popular as ever and continues to admit new patrons looking for an adventure.

A group of lions. Jonathan Robinson.

Bears looking for a snack. Jonathan Robinson.

A cardinal rule when traveling is to expect differences from one's country of origin. Not everyone will have the same beliefs and values as those of the traveler. The Badaling Wildlife Park is a prime example of this. While controversial, none of the activities that occur in the park are illegal in China. Nor do they pose an immediate threat to the population of any particular animal. Respecting things that we do not necessarily support is a vital part of the international, intercultural education that world travel gives us, and though the temptation may be great at times, we must weigh the validity of imposing our values in countries that we are admitted to as guests. For now, the park hovers in its own moral space. It cannot be labeled definitely as “right” or “wrong.” It simply is.





JONATHAN ROBINSON is an intern at CATALYST. He is a travel enthusiast always adding new people, places, experiences to his story. He hopes to use writing as a means to connect with others like himself. 









‘This is Africa’: Depictions of Black People in Mainland China

Earlier this year, Black Panther premiered in theaters around the world. The latest in a string of comic book-themed films turned out to be more of a cultural event than a mere movie. Black Panther broke records in the United States, as well as Great Britain, North and South Korea, and East and West Africa, dispelling the long-held Hollywood myth that “black films don’t travel.” Though fictional, the film struck a chord with audiences, as it featured a predominantly black cast and did not put them into the stereotypical roles often lamented by moviegoers. The film, however, was not as successful in Mainland China. Despite the fact that China is a major trading partner with the African continent, many Chinese moviegoers bristled at the idea of seeing Africans up close.

Chadwick Boseman, star of the movie Black Panther, appearing at Comic-Con in San Diego. Gaga Skidmore. CC BY SA-2.0

China was relatively closed to foreign trade until Deng Xiaoping's economic reform in 1978. Because of this, interactions with non-Chinese people are still a relatively new phenomenon. There is also a traditional standard in China that equates lighter skin with a comfortable, indoor lifestyle, and darker skin with peasantry, having to labor in fields under the hot sun. This combined with exposure to western media creates an environment that can be less than hospitable to blacks. Last year, an exhibit at the Hubei Provincial Museum in Wuhan titled, “This is Africa”, featured a portrait of a young African boy placed next to the portrait of a monkey. The exhibit was visited by over 100,000 people before criticism from the African community prompted museum officials to dismantle it, and the museum curator to take responsibility for the presentation. In February of this year, the same month Black Panther premiered, China’s Central China Television (CCTV) network came under fire when it aired a skit featuring a Chinese actor in blackface. Beijing issued a statement saying it was opposed to racism of any kind, but did not apologize for the skit.

Western nations are by no means immune to racial prejudice. While the Civil Rights movement of the 1960’s attempted to resolve many of the racial schisms that split the United States, lingering prejudices remain in various parts of the country. In recent years, proponents of racism have become more desperate, and less discreet. In January, the president of the United States allegedly referred to El Salvador, Haiti, and various African nations as “shithole countries,” seemingly forgetting his role as chief diplomat. Perceptions of Africa, and by extension those of African descent, are still slanted by the media, and media still accounts for much of the world’s education. This creates a quandary for those who have to live day-to-day under the banner of these stereotypes.

The CCTV building in Beijing. Verdgris. CC BY SA-3.0


There are some things that we believe because it serves us to believe them. Racism today is more than mere ideology. Like sexism, racism has evolved into a cultural standard, feeding into a lifestyle standard that is enjoyed, or not enjoyed, by millions of people around the world. As we begin to tinker with the idea racism, we also tinker with the standards it creates in our societies-some people are bound to get upset. At the same time, this tinkering opens new possibilities for growth, for all the parties it applies to. It refutes old characterizations of people and cultures and encourages us to make connections that we may not have considered before. All change involves a degree of pain and uncertainty, but we can only move forward, confident that the benefits of our efforts will justify the challenges.






JONATHAN ROBINSON is an intern at CATALYST. He is a travel enthusiast always adding new people, places, experiences to his story. He hopes to use writing as a means to connect with others like himself. 



Life on the Margins

During the northern summer of 2001 thousands of Chinese security personnel, backed by an army of labourers armed with sledgehammers, massed at the entry of the Larung Gar Tibetan Buddhist Institute. In this almost impossibly remote place, sitting high on the Tibetan Plateau, 9,000 monks and nuns had found a home, defying decades of China’s aggressive atheist policies to learn from its charismatic and avowedly apolitical founder, Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok.  

PRC authorities had long been skittish about the institute’s remarkable growth, and particularly alarmed by its growing appeal to ordinary Han Chinese. By 2001 over 1,000 Han also called Larung Gar home.
 

The Larung Gar Five Sciences Buddhist Institute.

Both Larung Gar and Yarchen Gar (gar translates as camp) have remained largely hidden from the outside world, as much because of their inaccessible geography as the tight controls on freedom of movement put in place by the Chinese government. Both sit at elevations of over 4,000 metres, sunk deep into hidden valleys of the Hengduan mountain range, which cuts across China’s south-western Sichuan province.
 

Yarchen Gar sits hard against the border of the TAR and is home to roughly 9,000 nuns. 
 

Both Yarchen and Larung Gar are part of what is known as the Garzê Semi Autonomous Prefecture, where 77 percent of the inhabitants — some 800,000 people — claim ethnic Tibetan heritage. As is the case in the similarly named Tibetan Autonomous Region (TAR), the people’s future has long been out of their own hands.

In theory, to move around Garzê as a foreigner, one only needs a Chinese tourist visa and bucket loads of time, patience and fortitude. This is in stark contrast to the neighbouring TAR, at the border of the lands known to the wider world as ‘Tibet’. Visitors to the TAR are required to first negotiate a complex and shifting permit process, before joining an organised and highly controlled tour of the region.
 

Nuns at a ceremony at Yarchen Gar in which almost the entire population of the camp leaves for a month of meditation in the surrounding hills. 

Yet Garzê and nearby Qinghai are also restive. Tibetans here have openly protested against Chinese control, most notably as part of a violent uprising in 2008. Referred to by the Chinese as the 3-14 riots, unrest had spread from the TAR into Sichuan. This unrest effectively slammed the door shut to the region’s hidden treasures until 2013. Today, despite relative calm, nuns and monks continue to take the extreme measure of self-immolation in towns and villages. Reports of random arrests and the disappearance of accused activists are common. Recently Garzê has been open, yet regulations can change overnight and information is scarce. 
 

The narrow, winding alleyways of Larung Gar.

During China’s breakneck boom the mountainous Garzê region represents ground zero in the great ‘go west’ campaign — viewed by the People’s Republic as integral to the rapid growth of the Chinese economy. 

The wealth of natural resources found here, as well as the nation-building railway into Tibet (completed in 2006) have been the catalyst for extraordinary development. In the regional town of Sertar, which sits astride the Larung Gar complex, the reality of the security situation quickly hits home. I was challenged in the main square and taken to police headquarters to sign in and face a barrage of questions.

Mercifully, one officer spoke English and took my story of being a history teacher at face value. This would be just one of my almost daily encounters with the local police force over the coming weeks.

The main street through Yarchen Gar

Monks debating at Larung Gar.

During the following days I was left free to explore the vast warren of huts, temples and study houses that surround the complex. One morning I witnessed a loud monks’ debate; where the men and boys almost come to blows over competing theological arguments.

The monks and nuns live their lives separated by the main road which slices Larung Gar camp down the middle. I found both groups to be generally welcoming and curious, and the tinderbox atmosphere and police presence of Sertar is replaced by the constant hum of worship, with the sound of prayer and Tibetan horns a constant.
 

Monks in study and debate at Larung Gar. 

Many Chinese tourists visit Larung too. The biggest draw for them turns out to be the opportunity to witness a traditional Tibetan ‘Sky Burial’. At 1pm every day, the Rogyapa (“body breaker”) arrives to dismember recent human remains, which are then fed to aggressive flocks of resident vultures on a hillside set back from the complex.

Macabre to some, this ancient ritual is both a practical way of disposing of human remains whilst also adhering to jhator, the principle of kindness to all living things, which includes feeding these huge carrion creatures. Few of traditional these sky burial locations remain operational, mainly due to religious marginalisation, urbanisation and the decimation of vulture populations.
 

The vultures who are fed during the traditional ‘Sky Burial’ on the hillside above Larung Gar. 

The institute at Larung Gar currently attracts followers of Tibetan Buddhism from all over China. Its regrowth after the 2001 evictions was swift; students began to illegally return and rebuild almost immediately. After Jigme’s death in 2004, countless followers made a pilgrimage to Larung Gar to pay homage to their spiritual master. Many stayed and contributed to the already rapid regrowth of the population. Today, Larung Gar is home to an estimated population of 50,000 people.
 

Gar camp from above, on rare clear day.

Yarchen Gar, founded in 1985 hard against the border of the TAR, has deplorable living conditions. Without even basic sanitation, every corner of the complex is permeated by a breathtakingly toxic smell.  Around 9,000 nuns live in ramshackle huts on an island, while the more solidly built monks’ quarters sit more favourably on the surrounding hills. Monsoon rains bring regular flooding; on my visit ankle-deep raw sewage flowed into the streets on more than one occasion. 

Rains in Yarchen Gar flood the streets with raw sewage.

No electricity runs to the island where the nuns live. Cholera and typhoid outbreaks are a daily threat. In winter, the temperatures plunge to a life-threatening minus 25 degrees. Yet this does not deter the nuns. Winter meditation sessions, referred to as the “direct crossing”, can last for days, with nothing more than a blanket to shield worshippers from the cold.
 

Sunrise at Yarchen

 The reward for this remarkable display of self-deprivation is the chance to learn first-hand from some of the most revered figures in Tibetan Buddhism. The current leader in residence is Asong Tulku. ‘Tulku’ is a title given to a person who has reached the highest level of spiritual enlightenment, and Asong is considered a living Buddha by his followers. To assist in his teaching at Yarchen, Asong is aided by senior nuns, called khenmos. Many nuns begin their life here at the age of just six.
 

Worshippers inside one of the temples at Yarchen Gar.

The bridge over to the island where the nun’s live.

Not only do the nuns dedicate themselves fully to their studies, they are also responsible for almost all physical labour at Yarchen, constructing houses, unloading trucks or building roads. The monks, who rarely participate in physical labour here, seem to have it easy in comparison.
 

Building a basic meditation hut on the hills overlooking the nun’s encampment.

The nuns carry out most of the hard physical labour at Yarchen. 
 

Despite the challenging living conditions, vast amounts of money are being funnelled into gigantic, ornate temples and monuments in the heart of the camp, while the surrounding slums continue to crumble.

Han Chinese money has poured into this region, with relatively wealthy converts to Tibetan Buddhism bringing much needed funds to the camps. These wealthy benefactors, hoping to improve their karma for the next business deal, or through a “cover all bases” spiritual mentality, have sparked a huge construction boom on the far western Chinese frontier.

A young nun exits an area reserved for eating and socialising in the centre of Yarchen. 

During my time in Yarchen I had several memorable brushes with the revered leader, Asong Tulku. As he piloted his gleaming white Lexus around the slum, our paths would meet on my early morning photo shoots. Watching people fall into the putrid mud at his feet wherever he walked, all rushing to pay tribute with cash and gifts, I found myself wondering if the money for the Lexus couldn’t be better spent elsewhere.
 

Asong Tulku is considered a living Buddha by his followers

The abrupt change from the monsoon season to the biting cold of winter was a fortuitous time to be visiting Yarchen. A ceremony in which almost the entire population of nuns empty from the confines of their island home for a month of meditation in the hills was due to take place. For days, preparations for this ritual, translating roughly to the “circle of life”, had provided a preview of what was to come.
 

Young monks taking a break from daily classes at Yarchen.

Basic supplies were taken by foot to a hidden nook outside the complex, the location of which was strictly off limits to outsiders. When the fortuitous day finally arrived, the sight of 9,000 nuns in their bright red robes streaming into the hills was a privilege to see.
 

The nuns of Yarchen Gar prepare to walk into the hills for a month of meditation.

At the entrance to the valley I reached a sign hammered into the ground, with a message written in bold letters, announcing that any man who followed the nuns on their trek would return blind. With this, I knew that my luck had held out for long enough; it was time to go.
 

Larung Gar camp by night. 

By rights Larung Gar and Yarchen Gar shouldn’t exist, and at different times the authorities have tried to sweep them away. Draconian restrictions on the freedom of movement and religious practices in the TAR itself means that nothing exists there to rival these two sites.

Quite possibly, the future leadership of Tibetan Buddhism rests not within the more recognisable white-washed walls of Lhasa’s hillside fortresses, or within the Dalai Lama’s inner circle, but within China itself.
 

Star trails arching over Yarchen Gar.

 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA.

 

BROOK MITCHELL

Brook Mitchell is a photographer + writer with Getty & The Sydney Morning Herald.

CHINA: Love is Blind

The recently relaxed one-child policy in China led many parents to abandon children who were born with mental or physical disabilities.

Photographer Alice Carfrae travelled between Beijing and Zhengzhou to visit two projects run by Bethel, a dedicated organization that is set up to provide high-quality care, education, life skills and livelihood opportunities to blind and visually impaired children in China through foster care projects. Bethel also runs an associate programme in training and outreach called 555, which aims to prevent blindness, lower orphan rates and conduct eye screenings to identify young visually-impaired children living in the country.

Above: (Left) Cane belonging to En Hong who arrived at Bethel in 2008. They believe she may have been living on the streets. (Right) Yuan Ming has albinism. He came into Bethel’s care when he was just a year old. He has learned to walk and he is now talking a lot. 

Almost all of the children helped by Bethel have been abandoned by their parents, because they have a physical or mental health problems. Susan Ou, manager of Bethel’s Love is Blind project, says minor disabilities such as missing fingers can be reason enough for parents to abandon a child.

Above: (Far left) Gui Gui hugs his friend as they wait in line for lunch and then gives his teacher a big hug (middle). (Right) A teacher takes Ai Fei’s hand and guides her to class. 

In the past decades, China’s One Child policy has exacerbated this problem as a great deal of pressure is put on the child to provide for the rest of the family, especially for their parents as they reach old age. If they are unable to work, they cannot meet this requirement or support the family, and this leads some parents to abandon their child.

Above: Children attend a cognitive skills class at Bethel. Developing cognitive skills by moving parts of the body and using the senses at a young age is a very important for a child with a visual impairment. 

There are two projects within the Love is Blind programme. The first is a partnership between Bethel and an orphanage in Zhengzhou and another orphanage in Dou Dian, outside Beijing, which includes a farm, school and home for visually impaired children.

Above: (Left) Hong Fa plays the Chinese flute whilst his friend Xiao Dong listens. Peter (middle, right) loves to sing and has a perfect tenor voice. He was awarded a scholarship for his excellent work which he spent on music lessons.

Speech therapy is now regarded as a vital component for many of the children, and music also plays a huge part in the children’s lives, with specially designed music rooms offering stimulation and relaxation.

Above: Jian Ang (left) helps Jianshan do up his jacket at the orphanage in Zhengzhou. 

Early on, children are encouraged to understand the concept of their own bodies, which instils confidence and a strong sense of self. At Bethel, both the environment and the children are very well cared for, and this, in turn, helps to prevent the kind of discrimination against disabilities, which has pervaded wider Chinese society for many years.

Above: (Left) Yuan Ming has albinism, when he came into Bethel’s care he was just a year old. He has learned to walk and he is now talking a lot. (Right) Jian Ang also has albinism. When he arrived, he was a tiny, weak baby. Now he runs everywhere and does well in class. 

The role of education, whatever their needs, is paramount. 

Above: (Left) a caregiver touches the head of a child and describes what it does so that he understands the concept of his body. (Middle) Xuerou plays with her teacher, before coming to Bethel she could not even sit up. (Right) Children are encouraged to play and explore. 

In Alice's words:

Zhengzhou is not the prettiest city. Its grey buildings are shrouded by a grey choking smoke. Henan is one of China’s poorer provinces and its capital reflects this. The Zhengzhou City Children’s Welfare Institute is located on the very outskirts of the city, where land is cheaper.

Despite being newly painted, the centre still did not look especially inviting from the outside, but we were welcomed warmly by Ma Jingya, who has been working as a teacher there for two years.

When we arrived, the twelve children in Bethel’s preschool initiative were taking an after lunch nap. We took this chance to look around one of the apartments they share, including a girl’s room, a boy’s room and a separate space for babies. The apartment looked very cosy with the kitchen and living room especially feeling like family homes. The only clue to the nature of the environment is stickers with children’s names and pictures to identify chairs, cups and toothbrushes.

Above: Baby room at the Zhengzhou orphanage.

The first child to wake was Xuerou. As I walked over to her cot I could see her yawning and smiling to herself. I whispered hello and she squealed with delight. Susan Ou, Bethel’s manager, told me she loves being talked to and cuddled. Xuerou is a child in whom they have seen the most significant changes since her arrival, very weak and malnourished.

Xuerou’s former circumstances are not known, but at first, she couldn’t even sit up or eat solid food, nor had she ever been taught how to walk or talk. It took six months of intensive care for her to respond to food and three years before she was able to stand. Now she is six, and can walk, but remains very small for her age. Susan told me that she understands when you tell her she is beautiful and will let you brush her hair.

Above: When Xuerou first arrived at age 4, she was very weak. She couldn’t sit up or eat any solid food. She now understands when you tell her that she is beautiful and she loves being cuddled and having her hair brushed.

I also spent a day with Gui Gui, a five year old boy who came into Bethel’s care at 18 months, after being abandoned by his parents. Gui Gui was expecting us but was feeling too shy to say hello. However, his shyness dissipated as soon as his Braille class started. The teacher, who is also blind, formed the children into a group to act out the Braille dots. Gui Gui was particularly quick and bossy, shouting out answers and physically putting the others in the correct place.

Gui Gui has transformed over the years, staff told me, from a terrified little boy who couldn’t walk or talk into the smiling bundle of energy I see today, who jumps downstairs in his haste to get to lunch. It wasn’t long before he was taking my hand and guiding me round his home.

He took particular interest in my camera, feeling his way around the buttons and the shutter. He would shout for his friends and the teacher and when he located them he would point the camera in their direction and push the shutter button in rapid succession as though firing a gun.

Gui Gui showed me one of his favorite places, the music room. He can play many instruments including the piano, which he asked me to play with him. When he realized I am not musical, he sat himself on my lap, took my hands in his and guided my fingers to the right keys to help me play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star — which is exactly what he is.

 

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA

Text by Legatum Foundation

ALICE CARFRAE

@ACarfrae

Alice Carfrae is an English documentary photographer currently based in Beijing, China. She works for clients such as The Telegraph magazine, Ford Foundation, Legatum, The Welsh Ruby Union, the Youth Justice Board, and Billionaire.com.