Here is some news on the assassination that we covered here:
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/09/30/world/asia/jume-tahir-murder-verdict-xinjiang.html?_r=0
Faces of Kashgar – Ramadan Edition
Previously, we did a Faces of Kashgar that took a look at what Kashgaris looked like, to give readers a visual sense of what it felt like to be in Kashgar. Now, we’d like to go back to that, with some of the fantastic portraits Galen did at the Eid al Fitr celebrations
Probably a Pakistani Businessman
And now, a final look at Kashgar’s old city.
More riots in Yarkant
More Violence in Yarkant County:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/11/29/xinjiang-attack_n_6240380.html?utm
We reported on earlier violence in the same place here.
Assassination in Kashgar
The Id Kah Mosque day before the assassination occurred.
The morning after Eid al Fitr, we were preparing to leave Kashgar for the Karakurom Highway. As we tried to upload photos and send out emails, our internet slowed to a crawl and then stopped completely.
This was not unusual. Though we were using VPNs to navigate around the Great Firewall of China, we were still often stymied. Sometimes, the government throttles any traffic by making the ‘pipes’ internet traffic used tiny. At that point, VPN’s do nothing for you.
We did not know it, but this was no routine internet shutdown. The local government had completely shut down the internet, and it would remain off for the entire day. The government wanted to control the news, to control people. An assassination had just occurred five minutes from our hotel.
The assassination occurred just a hundred feet from where this photo was taken.
It had happened just outside the Id Kah Mosque, beneath the Pamir hostel, the place where we had originally intended to stay. At seven a.m. Beijing time, the seventy-four year old Jume Tahir, Kashgar’s leading Imam, finished up his morning prayers. As he was leaving, just outside the mosque’s northeast gate, three young men approached him. Two of the men grabbed him, and one of them men stabbed him multiple times. After killing him, the three young men quickly left the scene, leaving Tahir to die in a pool of his own blood.
The assassination occurred a five minute walk from our hotel, just where I had been photographing the day before. Dan, an American, claimed to have talked to several Chinese people who witnessed the event, saying they saw a pool of blood and had watched confusedly as people ran from the scene. These Chinese people were repeatedly detained for questioning throughout the morning.
The three young men who committed the assassination were apprehended soon after the killing, though I still cannot find any source saying how quickly. Later that morning, I know that the entire city was encircled by the police, and everyone leaving had to be thoroughly checked. We sat in traffic for almost twenty minutes until we were able to walk through a checkpoint and get out of the city. That was at around one in the afternoon, Beijing time.
The reaction by authorities was not as rapid as one would expect. Initially, the police secured the scene like they would any other murder, according to an American staying in the Pamir Hostel, overlooking the scene. About an hour after the assassination, police came by the hostel to check papers, passports and train tickets, apparently sensitive to the fact that this was a place where foreigners were staying.
At this point, the police presence in the town was fairly light. Around this time, I was trying to find out how to get out of the city, and I realized that there were almost no private cars or cabs on the main roads. Apparently, traffic was being stopped.
Buses Transport Police to the scene several hours after the incident
A few hours later, the American staying in the Pamir Hostel says, the police presence suddenly ballooned. Buses that were normally used for transporting tourists were now commandeered to transport police, with at least six parked at the northeast corner of the mosque. The police returned to the Pamir, with a more thorough investigation. Those who had not already left were now subjected to several hours of being guarded and forced to wait in one corner of the hostel. Apparently, the police were concerned that people overlooking the scene would take photos and send them to journalists. Why was there a delayed reaction is still unclear? Perhaps, word got back to local leaders and they pushed for a harder hand, or perhaps when leaders realized that the foreign media was on the story (the BBC was reporting it within hours), they tried to clamp down.
Police Van beneath the Pamir Hostel
The most important question though, is why was Tahir assassinated? Like his assassins, he was a Uighur. As the head of China’s largest mosque, he should have been a respected member of the community in this largely Muslim city. Yet, after his death, few Kashgaris mourned his loss. The reaction of locals who I talked with was blasé.
Police Patrol
No Kashgaris seemed to be bothered because Tahir was considered a communist puppet. Each time the government was implementing a new policy or trying to combat unrest, Tahir would speak on television in Uighur and act as a mouthpiece for the government’s position. This is not surprising since all religious leaders in China serve at the behest of the Communist Party.
He was killed for this collaboration with the Communist. His assassins wanted to draw a line in the sand; you are either with the Uighurs or you are with the Chinese.
Photo of the police inside the Pamir Hostel
Unusual for this blog, none of these photos are from Galen. The top one is from Josh at Far West China, the second one is Lee’s, and the others are from an unnamed source staying in the Pamir hostel during the assassination
More Photos from the End of Ramadan
Here are some photos that we were not able to fit into the article on the End of Ramadan (and a few that we wanted to throw in again). Note that these photos are more of a mix, as far as who shot them. Galen and I each had cameras, as did our friend Josh, from the Far West China Blog, a fantastic resource for anyone looking to learn more about Xinjiang.
These photos are a mix of Galens and Lees. The one of Galen showing his camera to a Uighur who he had just taken a picture of was from our friend at the great Far West China blog, Josh.
End of Ramadan
They will not allow us to dance tomorrow. For five years, we have not been allowed to dance to celebrate Eid al-Fitr.”
– Uighur Tour Guide commenting on religious repression. Since riots in 2009 in Urumqi, the Chinese government has severely restricted religious expression. Though the government has not ended the sermon at the Id Kah Mosque, it has banned dancing, a traditional celebration at the end of the sermon. The guide was employed by the Chinese state, but he did not bother to hide his disdain for it.
A smaller police presence just to the side of the Mosque, not the one beside our hotel
It was supposed to be a happy day. The end of Ramadan, Eid al-Fitr, marks the end of Islam’s holiest month and, in many parts of the Muslim world, is a happy time, analogous to Christmas in the United States. However, it is not a happy time for the Uighurs. The Id Kah Mosque, its name meaning “place of celebration” in Persian, has increasingly become a place of control.
We awoke early on Eid. I grabbed one of Galen’s cameras, slipped into a pair of pants and rushed out the door to watch the crowds of worshipers develop around the Id Kah Mosque. As I was waiting for the elevator, I peered out the back window, looking out into a parking lot hidden behind our hotel. Instead of being full of trucks, as it normally was, regimented troops and military transport vehicles filled the lot. The hidden parking lot was being used as an operational staging point by the militarized police.
Startled, I pulled back. We were not supposed to be in that hotel. After spending a night in the hotel, we had found out that our stay there had been legally precarious. These troops had come here to stop riots, not to enforce hotel regulations. Still, if we were spotted, there would be trouble. The elevator whistled me down to the first floor, and I kept close to the inside wall, careful to keep out of the line of sight that the hotel’s backdoor might provide for any of the troops lining up.
Turning out of the hotel, I turned a corner into one of the old town’s main streets. Hundreds of Doppas, the square-ish hats worn by Muslim Uighurs, bobbed ahead of me as the sea of men drifted towards the Id Kah Mosque. On their way to the mosque, worshipers were forced to march past another cluster of police. The militarized police wore green uniforms; formed into phalanxes approximately five lines deep, the first line had shields and truncheons, the next lines of troops held high-powered rifles. To their side, a regiment of black-clad police stood, pistols strapped to their hips. Watching worshipers crowd past the security forces, I realized that these police were put there as a show of force. The guns were there to let people know that any rioting would be put down quickly and brutally.
On the way to the mosque
I followed in the footsteps of thousands of Muslim men and boys, weaving my through the lanes of the Old City. Approaching the Id Kah Mosque, the sound of an abrasive language, Uighur or Arabic, rang out of speakers throughout the lanes. The call to worship had already begun.
The sunrise at their backs, the men prepare themselves for worship, leaving a narrow passageway for other worshipers.
By the time I had arrived, around 6:30 local time, the alleyways on the side of the mosque were already filled with guys sitting with their feet folded beneath them on their laid-out prayer mats, their shoes neatly placed in front of them. Seven or eight rugs were laid out, taking up about four fifths of the alleyway, leaving only a narrow passageway for the men streaming into the plaza.
The plaza in front of the Id Kah Mosque, a wide area marked with concentric half-circles and pocked by planted trees, filled up slowly. The worshipers packing of the plaza occurred in stages, with many men milling around and talking in the back of the plaza. Then, at some signal I had not understood, those men would push towards the mosque and, in well-maintained lines, fold out their prayer rugs. The process repeated itself more than once until only a handful of feeble old men and smartly dressed Chinese tourists were left standing with me along the edge of the plaza.
Fully covered women worshipin in an alcove to the side
I should point out, my use of words like “men” and “boys” is intentional. There were no women gathered in the main group of men laying down their prayer rugs in the plaza. The only women I saw praying were a group of four frumpy looking women, probably middle-aged, who were fully covered, with only eye slits showing their face. They had sequestered themselves off to the side of the plaza, in an alcove at a nearby shop, praying like the men, just in their own separate quorum.
Cute toddler and her grandmother
Other women came, but did not participate in worship. I saw one grandmother who had brought her granddaughter to watch, cutely dressed in a flamingly bright pink outfit. Another group, a gaggle of four teenage girls edged into the plaza and sat beside me. No one seemed bothered by their presence, though the girls were both tense and giggly, as if acting upon a dare.
Mostly, though, I watched the men in the plaza worshiping as the sermon continued. At certain points, it became more rite than sermon. On the call of a single voice, ten thousand men would suddenly twist their heads to their left, and then at another signal to their right, then stand, then sit.
Everyone looks to the left
Everyone looks to the right
This was followed with surprising uniformity, though, along the edges, there were a few men who could not follow the imam’s instructions. A deaf man along the edge of the plaza, separate from the mass of men, was still standing after everyone else had sat down on their prayer rug. A woman in an orange and brown hijab, probably his wife, came behind and gently pushed him down. Later, four brothers in red polos with white polka dots had to guide their toddler brother in the prayer service, as he seemed to get too distracted to pay attention to the instructions.
Despite all these stories of people worshipping their god as they saw fit, another power loomed uncomfortably in the background: the Communist state. Like at the entrance to the Old City near our hotel, a division of militarized police stood in the square, hidden behind a row of trees that appeared to have been planted just so that these police would be obscured from the view of tourists’ cameras, though the worshipers were all aware of their presence.
Militarized police just behind the mosque
Militarized police just behind the mosque
Militarized Police vehicles
This division of militarized police had about one hundred men, wielding riot shields and guns. Behind them were parked ten vehicles, several urban tank-like vehicles, troop transport vehicles, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a jeep (for the commanding officer). The urban tanks had machine-guns mounted on top to shoot through any rioters and plow to make it easier to run over demonstrators without having them getting caught in the tires. Plain clothes Uighur police officers had been stationed along some of the entrances, and cameras were watching each move in the heavily choreographed ritual.
Militarized police just behind the mosque
The sermon ended, and the crowds quietly dispersed, some taking selfies in front of the mosque, others getting pilaf before heading home. They seemed glum, but the orders were clear: no dancing.
I do not blame the Chinese government for having riot police at the ready. The threat of violence was real, as we knew from the riots that had broken out in Yarkant and the violence that, though we did not know it then, would come the following day. I do however worry that this show of force is the only solution that the Chinese state has really come up with, and that is the heart of the problem. Instead of pulling out the problem at its roots, what they are doing is more akin to mowing the grass, cutting it down temporarily, only to see it rise back up soon.
These photos are a mix. Some are from Galen, some from Lee. All photos taken from high up are Joshs photos, the Xinjiang entrepreneur who writes at Far West China.
Id Kah Mosque
The Id Kah Mosque is the largest mosque in China, with a capacity to allow 20,000 worshipers in on its most important holy days. It is also one of the oldest mosques in China, having been built in 1442. Through its long history, it has seen much. Islam had already arrived in Kashgar and the surrounding areas by the time the mosque was built, but the mosque witnessed, and, in a way, represented, the growth of Islam in the region. It witnessed the rise and fall of the Mongol powers to the north and the tightening grip of faraway Beijing.
When central authority was weak in China, a Chinese Muslim General, Ma Zhancang, held onto power by assassinating a Uighur-separatist leader and displaying his head at the Id Kah Mosque. This was a bid to retain at least a nominal level of political connection to Nanjing, at the time, China’s capital, and prevent Uighur separatists from declaring independence.
Being the largest mosque in China’s most Muslim city, the Id Kah Mosque is a central point in the lives of many Kashgaris. Because of this, the government in Beijing has sought to manipulate the practice of Islam as a way to control Uighurs. The mosque’s site is heavily monitored by security cameras and is surrounded by several police stations. Within the mosque, religious personnel are selected by a group within the Communist Party.
The name Id Kah is Persian for “Place of Celebration,” but celebrations are increasingly rare at the Mosque. These increasing security measures mean that the thousands of men who used to joyously fill the square have been banned by Beijing. Instead of celebration, Id Kah has become a center of control, something we witnessed all too clearly the next day.
Uighur Students are Disappeared into Chinese Prisons
Just an update on the situation I’ve been following with Ilham Tohti:
Kashgar Urban Planning Museum
Kashgar’s Urban Planning Museum was tough to get into, but it was worth it. Hidden behind the staid language of historians and economists and a skyscraper-speckled diorama was a story of the death of Kashgar.
China has a slew of these Urban Planning Museums. Normally, each museum has a section acknowledging that city’s inevitably glorious and unique past, the aspects of culture that this city has contributed to China. But then, there is a gigantic diorama of what the city will look like after all those unique things have been bulldozed and something stunningly modern will be built. No matter which city it is, each museum’s diorama looks the same: tall skyscrapers puncturing the skyline in two or three places, surrounded by phalanx after phalanx of modern apartment blocks. After the diorama, the exhibits that follow are exhibits explaining how the city’s government will achieve this vision.
Let’s take a closer look at the Kashgar Museum. An entire room is made to present the history of Kashgar but this is done to tell the viewer as little as possible about history. Take a look at these photos, of one of the larger exhibits in the Museum’s history section.
Apologies for the unclear photo
This exhibit took up an entire wall, but what did it tell us about Kashgar? Reading Chinese does not help much here. There is no explanation of why these changes occurred, no attempt at contextualization. Other than the line of text under each map announcing which year this new administrative division was enacted, we know nothing about these changes. Why are these changes important? We are not told.
The Mandarin for the exhibit in the above picture is the title “Mythical City,” and it contains references from several ancient Chinese works to the Kunlun Mountains (to the south of Kashgar) and “Caonu” which they claim is today’s Kashgar. Interestingly, they only cite Chinese works referring to Kashgar. Nothing outside of China is important.
The above exhibit tells of how, in 128 B.C., a Han Chinese ambassador named Zhang Qian visited Kashgar. In 73 B.C., another ambassador, Ban Chao, also made it to the city. The exhibit goes on to note that for the next thousand years, Chinese officials recorded that the city had several name changes, each of which it lists.
This exhibit mentions that the name “Kashgar” itself dates back to the 10th century. Then, the sign says that the city experienced three expansions since 1644. Finally, this exhibit spends the last half of the text describing the size of the city and its walls, using that to explain how this signified Kashgar was a major city in the border areas.
What I find fascinating is, in all these exhibits on Kashgar’s history, there is no mention of any Uighur name, any Uighur person, no mention of the arrival or importance of Islam in Kashgar. When history is mentioned, it is only in the context of Chinese history that it is done, and it is only done through Chinese sources.
From the history section, we moved into the diorama section of museum, the highlight of the museum. The following photo is shot with my phone looking down on the diorama from the second floor with the lights turned off.
And these four photos were shot by Galen with his DSLR, with the diorama lit up.
The vision the diorama presents is of a Kashgar that does not look Kashgari at all. There is nothing in it that is Kashgari. It could be anywhere in China, anywhere in the world. The diorama is thick with coniferous trees that do not belong in this desert city. The apartment complexes are just stock complexes that look more like Kansas City than Kashgar.
The diorama does suggest that, within this vision, the traditional Kashgari neighborhood on the hill which we looked at here and here will still be preserved, though, everything other than that neighborhood has been bulldozed. Also, the Id Kah Mosque appears to be preserved in some form, though all neighborhoods outside the area surrounding the mosque are razed, including Kashgar’s famous Sunday Market.
After the diorama, I wandered into the section dealing with Kashgar’s future. The wall that sits behind what would be the front desk (if the front doors were open) has several slogans carved into stone.
These slogans are everything that Beijing wants Kashgar to be, a Eurasian International City, China’s Open Inland Window, a Model District of Harmonious Development. This last phrase signals that the museum was built during Hu Jintao’s reign, since the word harmonious development was the slogan associated with his reign from 2002-2012, again, placing Kashgar in the context of what goes on in the reign of Beijing’s leaders, not local concerns.
Let’s take a closer look at how these exhibits describe Kashgar’s future.
The exhibit pictured above, titled “Superior position and resources,” has three main paragraphs, each tackling a different topic. The first paragraph looks at Kashgar’s “superior position,” the city’s location on a border with eight neighboring or near neighboring countries. Its location is also advantageous because it runs along a line that leads from Asia to Europe. The second paragraph discusses the different tourist attractions that make it a prime target for becoming what is designated “China’s History Culture Famous City” and “China’s Superior Tourism City.” The final paragraph looks at different mineral and agricultural resources that Kashgar has the potential to produce. All of this is meant to imply that Kashgar’s prospects for economic development in international trade, tourism, mining and agriculture are all bright.
But the text in the photo begins with a short quote. The quote is taken from Han Feizi, a Chinese philosopher from the 3rd Century B.C., saying essentially, “With assistance, something is easily done.” This quote is meant to suggest that, with all the advantages that Kashgar has, in tourism, mineral wealth and trade, the city’s economic development will be easy. Yet, the quote also demonstrates that this exhibit and the others were written not by local Uighurs, who would have little knowledge of two thousand year old texts in a foreign language, but a Han Chinese, probably in a city far away from Kashgar. Again, this quote demonstrates that it is through the lens of Han Chinese history and Han Chinese sources that the museum’s designers wants us to view Kashgar.
The Museum is meant to be a vision of what Chinese authorities want Kashgar to look like in three decades. However, it reveals more than the government intended it to. Not once does this museum exhibit mention the name of a Uighur. All references to history are made through the lens of Chinese history, not Uighur history, not Central Asian history. And the future of Kashgar is exactly the same as it is elsewhere in China, a location without place, a city without its soul. In short, what the Chinese want is a Kashgar without Kashgaris.
From atop the ferris wheel
Ilham Tohti
Just a quick update on Ilham Tohti, the Uighur professor who I reported on here
Here is a quick link to an article about Professor Tohti:
There is nothing to update really. The Chinese government still considers him a separatist, and has not revoked its judgement on the economist’s actions. Unfortunate, but not unexpected.