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 11^th 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 11^th, 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