Thailand’s political discourse throughout the past decade has increasingly been shaped and amplified by social media and digital activism. The most recent wave of political activism this year saw the emergence of a countrywide youth-led democracy movement against the military-dominated coalition, as well as a nationalist counter-protest movement in support of the establishment.
The steady evolution of tactics on the part of the government, the military and protesters reflects an increasingly sophisticated new battleground for democracy, both on the streets and the screens. Understanding these complex dynamics is crucial for any broader analysis of the Thai protest movement and its implications.
In this report, we analyse samples of Twitter data relating to the online manifestation of contemporary political protests in Thailand. We explore two key aspects in which the online manifestation of the protests differs from its offline counterpart. That includes (1) the power dynamics between institutional actors and protesters and (2) the participation and engagement of international actors surrounding the protests.
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/15221021/WhatsHappeningInThailand-banner.png4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-12-14 06:00:002025-03-06 14:19:46#WhatsHappeningInThailand: The power dynamics of Thailand’s digital activism
This report by ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre and India’s Observer Research Foundation argues that as the India-Australia bilateral relationship continues to grow and evolve, both governments should invest in the construction of a new India–Australia partnership on technology.
The foundation for such a partnership already exists, and further investment areas of complementary interests could stimulate regional momentum in a range of key critical and emerging technology areas including in 5G, Artificial Intelligence, quantum technologies, space technologies and in critical minerals. The report contains 14 policy recommendations that will help build this new technology partnership.
This new report outlines what this new India-Australia technology partnership could look like. It examines the current state of the India–Australia relationship; provides an overview of current technology cooperation and where challenges and roadblocks lie; analyses each state’s competitive and complementary advantages in selected technology areas and highlights opportunities for further collaboration across the areas of 5G, Artificial Intelligence, Quantum technologies, Space technologies and in critical minerals.
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/15192535/PB39-Critical-technologies_banner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-10-15 06:00:002024-12-15 19:29:58Critical technologies and the Indo-Pacific: A new India-Australia partnership
The Chinese Government has embarked on a systematic and intentional campaign to rewrite the cultural heritage of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region (XUAR). It’s seeking to erode and redefine the culture of the Uyghurs and other Turkic-speaking communities—stripping away any Islamic, transnational or autonomous elements—in order to render those indigenous cultural traditions subservient to the ‘Chinese nation’.
Using satellite imagery, we estimate that approximately 16,000 mosques in Xinjiang (65% of the total) have been destroyed or damaged as a result of government policies, mostly since 2017. An estimated 8,500 have been demolished outright, and, for the most part, the land on which those razed mosques once sat remains vacant. A further 30% of important Islamic sacred sites (shrines, cemeteries and pilgrimage routes, including many protected under Chinese law) have been demolished across Xinjiang, mostly since 2017, and an additional 28% have been damaged or altered in some way.
Alongside other coercive efforts to re-engineer Uyghur social and cultural life by transforming or eliminating Uyghurs’ language, music, homes and even diets,1 the Chinese Government’s policies are actively erasing and altering key elements of their tangible cultural heritage.
Many international organisations and foreign governments have turned a blind eye. The UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) and the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) have remained silent in the face of mounting evidence of cultural destruction in Xinjiang. Muslim-majority countries, in particular, have failed to challenge the Chinese Government over its efforts to domesticate, sinicise and separate Uyghur culture from the wider Islamic world.
What’s the solution?
The Chinese Government must abide by Article 4 of China’s Constitution and allow the indigenous communities of Xinjiang to preserve their own cultural heritage and uphold the freedom of religious belief outlined in Article 36. It must abide by the autonomous rights of minority communities to protect their own cultural heritage under the 1984 Law on Regional Ethnic Autonomy.
UNESCO and ICOMOS should immediately investigate the state of Uyghur and Islamic cultural heritage in Xinjiang and, if the Chinese Government is found to be in violation of the spirit of both organisations, it should be appropriately sanctioned.
Governments throughout the world must speak out and pressure the Chinese Government to end its campaign of cultural erasure in Xinjiang, and consider sanctions or even the boycotting of major cultural events held in China, including sporting events such as the 2022 Winter Olympic Games.
The UN must act on the September 2020 recommendation by a global coalition of 321 civil society groups from 60 countries to urgently create an independent international mechanism to address the Chinese Government’s human rights violations, including in Xinjiang.2
Executive summary
Under President Xi Jinping, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has adopted a more interventionist approach to nation building along China’s ethnic periphery. Indigenous non-Han cultures, which are considered backward, uncivilised and now potentially dangerous by CCP leaders, must yield to the Han normative centre in the name of an ostensibly unmarked ‘Chinese’ (中华) culture.3
The deliberate erasure of tangible elements of indigenous Uyghur and Islamic culture in Xinjiang appears to be a centrally driven yet locally implemented policy, the ultimate aim of which is the ‘sinicisation’ (中国化) of indigenous cultures, and ultimately, the complete ‘transformation’ (转化) of the Uyghur community’s thoughts and behaviour.
In work for this report, we sought to quantify the extent of the erasure and alteration of tangible indigenous cultural heritage in Xinjiang through the creation of two new datasets recording:
demolition of or damage to mosques; and
demolition of or damage to important religious–cultural sites, including shrines (mazars), cemeteries and pilgrimage routes.
With both the datasets, we sought to compare the situation before and after early 2017, when the Chinese Government embarked on its new campaign of repression and ‘re-education’ across Xinjiang.
Media and non-government organisation reports have unearthed individual examples of the deliberate destruction of mosques and culturally significant sites in recent years.4 Our analysis found that such destruction is likely to be more widespread than reported, and that an estimated one in three mosques in Xinjiang has been demolished, mostly since 2017.
This equates to roughly 8,450 mosques (±4%) destroyed across Xinjiang, and a further estimated 7,550 mosques (±3.95%) have been damaged or ‘rectified’ to remove Islamic-style architecture and symbols. Cultural destruction often masquerades as restoration or renovation work in Xinjiang. Despite repeated claims that Xinjiang has more than 24,000 mosques5 and that the Chinese Government is ‘committed to protecting its citizens’ freedom of religious belief while respecting and protecting religious cultures’,6 we estimate that there are currently fewer than 15,500 mosques in Xinjiang (including more than 7,500 that have been damaged to some extent). This is the lowest number since the Cultural Revolution, when fewer than 3,000 mosques remained (Figure 1).7
Figure 1: The number of mosques in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region since its founding
Note: The estimates from our research are included as the 2020 datapoint. Mosques that have been damaged but not destroyed are shown in orange. Source: Li Xiaoxia (李晓霞), ‘Analysis on the quantity change and management policy of Xinjiang mosques’ (新疆清真寺的数量变化及管理政策分析), Sociology of Ethnicity (民族社会学研究通讯), vol. 164 (2018), p. 40, online; and ASPI analysis.
Mosques across Xinjiang were rebuilt following the Cultural Revolution, and some were significantly renovated between 2012 and 2016, including by the construction of Arab- and Islamic-style domes and minarets. However, immediately after, beginning in 2016, government authorities embarked on a systematic campaign to ‘rectify’ and in many cases outright demolish mosques.
Areas visited by large numbers of tourists are an exception to this trend in the rest of Xinjiang: in the regional capital, Urumqi, and in the city of Kashgar, almost all mosques remain structurally intact.
Most of the sites where mosques were demolished haven’t been rebuilt or repurposed and remain vacant. We present three case studies (on the renovation and demolition of mosques in northern Xinjiang, the land use of demolished mosques, and the destruction of the Grand Mosque of Kargilik) to highlight the impacts of this process of erasure.
Besides mosques, Chinese Government authorities have also desecrated important sacred shrines, cemeteries and pilgrimage sites. Our data and analysis suggest that 30% of those sacred sites have been demolished, mostly since 2017. An additional 27.8% have been damaged in some way. In total, 17.4% of sites protected under Chinese law have been destroyed, and 61.8% of unprotected sites have been damaged or destroyed. We present two case studies (the destruction of the ancient pilgrimage route of Ordam Mazar and of Aksu’s sacred cemeteries) to show in detail the impact on sacred spaces.
Methodology
The Chinese Government’s 2004 Economic Census identified more than 72,000 officially registered religious sites across China, including more than 24,000 mosques in Xinjiang.8 Given the lack of access to Xinjiang and the sheer number of sites, we used satellite imagery to build a new dataset of pre-2017 mosques and sacred sites.
We found the precise coordinates of more than 900 sites before the 2017 crackdown, including 533 mosques and 382 shrines and other sacred sites.
Each of those sites was then cross-referenced against recent (2019–2020) satellite imagery and categorised as destroyed, significantly damaged, slightly damaged or undamaged. In most cases, significant damage relates to part of the site being destroyed or to Islamic-style architecture (such as domes and minarets) being removed.
We then used a sample-based methodology to make statistically robust estimates of the region-wide rates of destruction by cross-referencing it to data from the 2004 Economic Census, by prefecture.9
For prefectures for which we had a sample of more than 2.5% of mosques, the prefecture-wide destruction and damage rates were extrapolated directly from the observed sites in our sample.
The rate of destruction in prefectures that were undersampled (having less than 2.5% of all mosques located) was estimated by averaging the observed prefectural rate of destruction and the region-wide rate (excluding the regional capital, Urumqi). We estimated the total number of mosques destroyed and damaged by combining those prefectural-level extrapolations.
This analysis is only able to determine demolition or other visible structural changes to the sites. Based on our sample, the razing of mosques appears to have been carried out broadly across Xinjiang, and neither urban nor rural mosques were more likely to be damaged or demolished.
Urumqi and the tourist city of Kashgar are outliers where most mosque buildings remain visibly intact.
Those cities are frequented by domestic and international visitors and serve to conceal the broader destruction of Uyghur culture while curating the image of Xinjiang as a site of ‘cultural integration’ and ‘inter-ethnic mingling’.10
For more details on how our calculations were done and how to access the raw data, see the appendix to this report.
Results and case studies
Mosques
In total, we located and analysed a sample of 533 mosques across Xinjiang, including 129 from Urumqi. Of those mosques, 170 were destroyed (31.9%), 175 were damaged (32.8%) and 188 remained undamaged (35.3%). Urumqi has only 1.4% of Xinjiang’s mosques, despite representing 24% of our sample, and was an outlier that showed lower rates of mosque demolition (17% versus an average of 36% in other prefectures). Of the 404 mosques we sampled in other parts of Xinjiang, 148 were destroyed (36.6%), 152 were damaged (37.6%) and 104 were undamaged (25.8%). Figure 2 summarises the percentages of sampled mosques destroyed or damaged, by prefecture.
Figure 2: Percentage of sampled mosques that are damaged or destroyed, by prefecture, XUAR
Note: Territorial borders shown on maps in this report do not indicate acceptance by ASPI, in general they attempt to show current territorial control and not claims from any country. Source: ASPI ICPC.
The destruction of mosques appears to be correlated with the value authorities place on a region’s tourist potential; for example, Urumqi has a low rate of demolition, followed by the major tourist sites like Kashgar.11 Yet, it should be noted, both cities have undergone and continue to undergo significant urban development, which has resulted in the demolition or ‘renovation’ of part of Kashgar’s old city and the Uyghur-dominated Tengritagh and Saybagh districts of Urumqi.12
Extrapolating those figures on a prefectural level from official statistics allowed us to estimate the full number of destroyed and damaged mosques in Xinjiang. We found that across the XUAR approximately 16,000 mosques have been damaged or destroyed and 8,450 have been entirely demolished. The 95% confidence range of our regional findings is ±4% for the estimates of demolished, destroyed and undamaged mosque numbers. The full prefectural breakdown is shown in Table 1 and Figure 3.
Table 1: Full results showing the prefectural breakdown of mosques in Xinjiang, our sampling data and our estimates of damaged numbers
Note: In this table XPCC refers to the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps (Bingtuan), a government entity distinct to Xinjiang’s regional government that directly administers large areas of the XUAR. Source: ASPI ICPC.
Figure 3: The estimated number of mosques destroyed or damaged in each prefecture of the XUAR
Note: Red dots represent the estimated number of destroyed mosques, orange represents the estimated number of damaged mosques. The number written shows these two combined. For full details see Table 1. Source: ASPI ICPC.
Officials from the ruling Chinese Communist Party (CCP) have repeatedly claimed that Xinjiang has more than 24,000 mosques and cite that as evidence of the state’s respect for religious freedom.13
However, our analysis shows that in most prefectures a majority of mosques and other sites of Islamic worship are being destroyed or transformed in ways that erode their religious and cultural significance.
In June 2015, Yang Weiwei, a researcher at the official CCP school in the northern prefecture of Altay, clearly articulated one of the perceived threats that authorities believe mosques pose to social stability in Xinjiang.14 Without providing evidence, she asserted that ‘the number of mosques in Xinjiang far exceeds the needs of normal religious activities,’ and instead provide venues for separatists and extremists to proselytise. The Islamic faith of Uyghurs in southern Xinjiang, she claimed, is propelling society away from traditional secularism towards conservatism, and challenging CCP rule. ‘In southern Xinjiang, the capacities of the party’s grassroot organs are hampered, but the role of mosques [is] constantly being strengthened,’ she warned.15
Her report specifically recommended that mosques be demolished, saying that only one mosque should exist in each administrative unit, that their design should adhere to strict unified standards (implying the removal of Islamic and Arab architecture), and that their opening hours should be limited to a single day every week and holidays.16
That recommendation doesn’t appear to be restricted to Altay Prefecture. Our evidence suggests the demolition and ‘rectification’ of mosques is more severe in other prefectures in Xinjiang, 17 of which (out of the 19 that we recorded) have higher rates of mosque demolition than Altay.
Xinjiang’s latest ‘mosque rectification’ (清真寺整改) campaign, which was conducted under the guise of improving public services and safety, began in 2016 and gathered pace under the new Xinjiang Party Secretary, Chen Quanguo.17 Local authorities were responding in part to Xi Jinping’s call for the ‘sinification’ (中国化) and the ‘deradicalisation’ (去极端化) of religion in Xinjiang.18 The vast majority of mosques in our sample that remained undamaged had no existing visible Islamic architectural features and didn’t need modification to adhere to the strict standards set out by the regional ‘rectification’ campaign.
Additionally, media reports suggest that a number of mosques that remain physically intact (and therefore would be classified as undamaged in our dataset) have been secularised or converted into commercial or civic spaces, including cafe-bars19 and even public toilets.20 We aren’t able to quantify this practice using our methodology.
However, visitors to the region since 2017, who saw several still-standing mosques and spoke privately with ASPI, estimated that roughly 75% of the mosques still standing had either been padlocked shut and had no worshippers visiting at key prayer times or had been converted into other uses. A separate recent visitor to Kashgar city told us that ‘virtually all’ of the mosques in the ‘old city’ had been closed and that a limited number had been converted into cafes.
Although other religious minorities aren’t the focus of our report, we also checked several Christian churches and Buddhist temples across Xinjiang and found that none of those sampled had been damaged or destroyed. This contrasts with the high number of damaged and destroyed mosques across the region, along with the widespread ‘rectification’ of many religious sites in other parts of China.21
Case study: Northern Xinjiang’s renovations and demolitions
Our study of mosques in northern Xinjiang revealed a wave of renovations and reconstructions between 2012 and 2016, followed by a wave of demolitions from 2016 onwards. This sudden reversal coincided with significant national-level changes to religious policy and a crackdown on expressions of faith,22 suggesting a centrally driven policy directive rather than decisions by local officials.
We found evidence that most mosques in a number of prefectures had been standardised through the addition of a large central dome and minarets on each building’s corners before 2016. An example of four mosques that were standardised in the same way is shown below in figures 4 and 5. For example, the bottom-left mosque in the examples is a mosque in Shiho city (Wusu). A dome and minarets were added in mid-2015, but by mid-2018 the entire site had been demolished.
Figure 4: Four mosques in Northern Xinjiang, chosen at random from our database, showing their structure before renovation between 2012 and 2016
Note: Clockwise from top left their locations are in Dorbijin County (Emin – 46.522N, 83.648E), Qutubi County (Hutubi – 44.185N, 86.900E), Changji City (44.0544N, 87.2262E), Shiho city (Wusu – 44.431N, 84.672E). Source: Maxar via Google Earth
Figure 5: The same four mosques were significantly renovated between 2012 and 2016; all showed additions of a dome and two or four minarets
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
However, following Xi Jinping’s April 2016 speech at the National Religious Work Conference in which he called for the sinicisation of Chinese religion,23 this renovation work appears to have been halted.
Then, following Chen Quanguo’s ascension as Xinjiang Party Secretary in late 2016, the renovations made to these mosques were reversed. In some cases this resulted in the newly built domes and minarets being removed; in most cases, it resulted in the demolition of the entire structure. Three of the four randomly chosen mosques shown above have been entirely demolished since 2016, and one has had its Islamic architecture removed (Figure 6).
Figure 6: The same four mosque sites, showing that three of them have been demolished entirely and that the fourth had its dome and minarets removed by 2018
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
Case study: Land uses at the sites of demolished mosques
Of 187 destroyed mosques that we recorded, only 41 sites (22%) have been redeveloped for other purposes, according to the latest imagery available at the time of publication, in many cases nearly three years since demolition (figures 7, 8 and 9). The rest either remain bare ground (65%) or have been converted for agriculture or turned into roads or car parks (12%).
Most mosques that were demolished between 2017 and 2020 weren’t razed to make way for new buildings, but instead were simply demolished and left as vacant land.
Figure 7: A mosque in Hotan’s Karakash County, before and after 2017
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
Figure 8: A mosque in Bayingol’s Lopnur (Yuli) County, before and after 2017
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
Figure 9: A mosque in Chochek’s Shiho (Wusu) city, before and after 2017
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
The vast majority of mosque demolitions have been targeted desecrations in which surrounding buildings have remained intact, but there are some examples in which a mosque has been retained while surrounding residential buildings have been razed (Figure 10). Eighty per cent of mosques in the latter category are in Urumqi.
Figure 10: A mosque in Urumqi’s Saybagh district that remained in 2019 following the demolition of the residential community that it had served
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
Case study: The demolition and miniaturisation of Kargilik’s Grand Mosque
A bizarre trend that has occurred in a small number of damaged mosques is the demolition of the Islamic-styled gatehouse and its reconstruction at a miniaturised scale. These mosques are generally significant and historic sites afforded significant degrees of formal protection.
For example, the Grand Mosque in Kashgar’s historic Kargilik County (Yecheng) was built in 1540.
In the 2000s, it was designated as a Xinjiang regionally protected cultural heritage site—the second highest level of protection granted to historic relics. Figure 11 shows the mosque as it once appeared (probably during the 1990s).
Figure 11: Kargilik’s Grand Mosque gatehouse as it appeared in the late 20th century
The historic Islamic architecture is clear: large domes and crescent moons at the top, colourful tile mosaics typical of Central Asian mosques, and the Shahada (Islamic creed) above the entranceway.
The Islamic features remained on the mosque, although somewhat faded, until the 2017 crackdown (Figure 12).
Figure 12: Kargilik’s Grand Mosque gatehouse in the 2010s
Source: Anon, “Kargilik’s Jame Mosque,” Mapio Net, nd., online.
Following the crackdown, most of the mosaic artwork was painted over, the Arabic writing was removed, the crescent moon motif was removed or replaced, and a large government propaganda banner hung from the mosque. Figure 13 is a photo taken in September 2018 by a visiting tourist, shortly before the gatehouse was razed. The mosque has a large red banner saying ‘Love the party, love the country’ draped across the building and a sign where the Shahada used to sit saying that CCP members, government employees and students are prohibited from praying in the mosque, including during the Eid festival. Furthermore, the doors were also closed and seemingly padlocked.24
Figure 13: Kargilik’s Grand Mosque gatehouse in September 2018
Source: YY, “Kargilik Mosque (加满清真寺),” Flickr, 11 September 2018, online.
Shortly after this photo was taken, the historic entranceway was demolished. By April 2019, it had been poorly reconstructed at roughly a quarter the original size (figures 14 and 15). Originally, the entranceway was roughly 22 metres across; the reconstruction is only 6 metres across. Much of the original site has been replaced by construction for a new shopping mall.
Figure 14: Kargilik’s Grand Mosque gatehouse rebuilt at a smaller scale in 2019
Note: This image has been slightly manipulated to avoid revealing potentially identifiable information about the photographer, who privately shared this image with ASPI. No architectural features have been changed from the original image.
Figure 15: Satellite imagery showing Kargilik’s Grand Mosque in September 2018 and April 2019; red arrowhead points to the miniaturised gatehouse
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
Although ‘miniaturisation’ was relatively rare across Xinjiang, it was noted in several significant mosques in Kashgar, including in Kargilik and Yarkant.
Sacred public sites
Scattered across Xinjiang’s vast open spaces are a number of sacred spaces. The region’s oases have supported lives and communities for centuries. Uyghurs and other Turkic communities in what the Uyghurs call Altishahr (ئالتە شەھەر ), or the ‘six cities’ in the south of Xinjiang, have followed Islam for over 1,000 years and have cultivated a unique fusion of Sunni fellowship and Sufi cultural and religious traditions.25
The mysticism that influences Uyghur Sufism draws on a cultural connection to land and the sacredness of place, in which holy sites (often the locations of purported miracles or the burial places of enlightened scholars, leaders, poets, saints, mullahs or sheiks) retain their sacrosanctity indefinitely.
For the devout, these sites are a source of healing, of introspection and of good fortune. The sites are an integral part of Uyghurs’ cultural history and connection to the land.26
Since 2017, as the state began systematically restricting personal expressions of Islamic culture and belief in Xinjiang, the sacred sites of Uyghur identity have been desecrated and destroyed in large numbers. Rian Thum notes that access to most mazar (shrine) sites had already been locked off to pilgrims and visitors over the past decade, and that their subsequent ‘destruction appears to have been an end in and of itself’.27
Across Xinjiang’s five southernmost prefectures, we located 349 sacred sites, 103 of which were formally registered as protected cultural heritage by the Chinese Government at various levels.28
Of all the significant and sacred spaces we examined, we found that 30% have been entirely demolished, including sites of famous pilgrimages. A further 27.8% have been damaged in some way (Figure 16).
Figure 16: The rates of damage to the various sacred and significant cultural sites surveyed in this report, by level of protection
Formal protection by the authorities has affected the rates of demolition: 51.4% of protected sites are undamaged, compared to only 38.2% of unprotected sites. Likewise, formally protected sites are about half as likely to have been entirely demolished than unprotected sites: 17.4% of formally protected sites were demolished outright, compared to 35.4% of unprotected sites.
We also found relatively high rates of destruction among nationally and regionally protected sacred sites: 16.7% of the nationally protected sites we examined had been destroyed, and 41.6% were damaged (totalling 58.3% damaged or destroyed). Likewise, 16% of sites protected at the Xinjiang regional level had been destroyed, and an additional 32% had been damaged in some way (totalling 48% damaged or destroyed).
However, formal protection neither applies to nor provides protection to the most significant sites.
Several of the most well-known and culturally significant sites, such as Imam Jafar Sadiq Mazar and Imam Asim Mazar, and potentially Ordam Mazar, that previously hosted major annual pilgrimages are offered no formal protection and have all been demolished by Chinese authorities since 2017.29
In many cases where significant graves remain, satellite imagery reveals that attached mosques and prayer halls have been demolished, apparently to deny access to and space for worshippers. Additionally, in many cases otherwise undamaged sites appear to have installed security checkpoints at the entrances or have been fully enclosed by walls, restricting access.
Case study: The destruction of Ordam Mazar
Ordam Mazar ( ئوردىخان پادىشاھىم , ‘Royal City Shrine’) was a small settlement of about 50 structures in the Great Bughra desert (Figure 17). Sitting midway between Kashgar and Yarkant it was surrounded by miles of desert and was commemorated as the place from which Islam spread across the region.
It marked the site where, in 998 AD, Ali Arslan Khan, the grandson of the first Islamic Uyghur king, died in a battle to conquer the Buddhist kingdom of Hotan. Ali Arslan’s martyrdom was marked by a festival every year, drawing Uyghur pilgrims from all over southern Xinjiang at the beginning of the 10th Islamic month of Muharram.30
Figure 17: A 2013 satellite image of Ordam Mazar
Source: Airbus via Google Earth.
Tens of thousands of people visited the site before the festival was outlawed in 1997,31 the year before the 1,000th anniversary of Arslan Khan’s death. Since then, the area has been locked down. The religious curators of the site have mostly been pushed away, and only one family remained at the shrine by 2013: the family of Qadir Shaykh (Figure 18). He was required to report all unauthorised visitors to authorities, and most devotees who visited in the years preceding 2017 did so in the middle of the night to avoid identification.32 Their worship would only be betrayed by the presence of a new flag of prayers tied to the bundle of sticks that is often used to mark a sacred site (tugh,تۇغ ).
Figure 18: A photo of Qadir Shaykh taken by a visiting tourist in 2008
Source: ‘Left-behind elderly in the depths of the desert, accompanied by a falcon when living alone’ (沙漠深处的留守老人独居时与猎鹰为伴), WeChat, 8 April 2015, online.33
The official closure of Ordam Mazar in 1997 was justified by the banning of illegal religious activities (非法宗教活动) and feudal superstition (封建迷信), which linked the mystic traditions of the Uyghur people to notions of backwardness and mental illness.34 Ordam Mazar and its connection to mystic expressions of Islamic faith became emblematic of the ‘Three Evils’ (三股势力) of terrorism, separatism and religious extremism. The alleged linkage propelled the Chinese Government’s crackdown in Xinjiang and provided ideological justification for the erasure and alteration of sacred indigenous sites.
Our analysis of satellite imagery found that, between 24 November and 24 December 2017, the entire site of Ordam was razed (Figure 19). The following autumn, Altun Rozam ( ئالتۇن روزام ), a shrine formed from a bundle of sticks and flags that lay 1.2 kilometres northwest of Ordam and marked the sand dune where Arslan Khan is said to have been killed in battle 1,020 years ago, was bulldozed (Figure 20).
The stone foundations have been covered by the sand, and now no sign of the sacred town remains.
The whereabouts of Qadir Shaykh and his family are unknown
Figure 19: Ordam Mazar in May 2018, showing the nearly complete destruction of the desert outpost
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
Figure 20: Photo of what appears to be the cultural relic preservation marker for Ordam Mazar in 2013
Source: Rita@kashi weifeng, ‘Pathfinder to the Desert Holy Land: Ordam, a tomb of king’ (探路沙漠圣地–奥达木王陵), Douban, 22 May 2013, online.
Ordam marks the endpoint of a 15-day pilgrimage route, which for centuries connected sacred sites in and around the Great Bughra desert. All the pilgrimage stops on this route were also demolished in late 2017; including Häzriti Begim Mazar, which was a shrine marking the location where Häzriti Begim, the son of Rome’s emperor, died in battle alongside Arslan Khan.35
The remoteness of Ordam Mazar and other stops along this pilgrimage route is significant. Ordam is roughly 15 kilometres from the nearest cultivated area and 35 kilometres from the nearest county centre (Figure 21). Given the level of surveillance in Xinjiang, including new networks that have been built since the 2017 crackdown, the demolition of these pilgrimage sites was not necessary to prevent worshippers visiting them.
Likewise, considerable investment is needed to transport a demolition team across tens of kilometres of ungraded desert tracks, mostly crossing sand dunes. Therefore, this suggests that the demolition not only represents the curtailing of religious freedoms in Xinjiang, but also the deliberate severing of ties that Uyghurs have to their cultural heritage, history, landscape and identity.
Figure 21: A photo of part of Ordam town, showing the mosque, taken by a visiting tourist in 2017
Source: Mo de shijie (蓦的世界), ‘Exploring the mystery of Aodamu (Audang) Mazha’ (奥达木(奥当)麻扎探秘), Weixin, 25 March 2017, online.
Ordam’s demolition also marks the end of Dr Rahile Dawut’s public life. Dawut is an ethnographic scholar and an international expert on Xinjiang’s sacred sites. The New York Times described her as ‘one of the most revered academics from the Uyghur ethnic minority in far western China’,36 and her previous work on Ordam Mazar was funded by the Chinese Government and its academic grants.37
In December 2017, the same month that Ordam was demolished, Rahile Dawut went missing while trying to travel to Beijing for a conference. Her whereabouts remain unknown. Her family and relatives believe that she was forcibly ‘disappeared’ and arbitrarily detained somewhere in the vast network of more than 375 ‘re-education’ centres, detention camps and newly expanded prisons in Xinjiang.38
Her ‘crimes’ or ‘misdemeanours’ have never been made public. Dawut is one of at least 300 Uyghur intellectuals detained in Xinjiang since 2017.39
The demolition of Ordam Mazar and the disappearance of a world-renowned researcher of Uyghur sacred spaces highlights the extent that Xinjiang’s public spaces of faith and identity have been targeted and outlawed. This highly sacred site for the Uyghur people, which had fought back the desert and multiple rounds of conquest for over 1,000 years, has now been subsumed back into the desert.
Case study: The desecration of Aksu’s sacred cemetery
Near the Yéngichimen village in Toyboldi ( تويبولدى ) township, about a four-hour drive from Aksu city, lay the remains of Mulla Elem Shahyari ( شەھيارى ). Shahyari was a notable poet and Islamic leader around Aksu in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. In his youth, he studied Islamic oratory, and he eventually became a chief poet for the ming-begi (local chieftain, مىڭ بېگى ).40
He is known for his long poem, composed over 10 years, ‘Rose and Nightingale’ ( گۈل ۋە بۇلبۇل ). In 1814, after he died from illness in his home town at Toyboldi, his grave became a shrine. The grave was near the entrance of a 13-hectare cemetery, in the yard of the cemetery’s prayer hall (Figure 22).41
Figure 22: Yéngichimen cemetery in 2014 and 2019, showing its destruction
Source: Maxar via Google Earth.
As a child, Aziz Isa Elkun, a now-exiled Uyghur poet who grew up nearby, revered Shahyari’s shrine; the village considered Shahyari to be enlightened. During an interview with ASPI, Mr Elkun said:
[Our] Islamic and Uyghur cultural identities … are intrinsically linked; therefore [we] regard [Shahyari’s] burial place as a holy place that connects the spirits of the generations past and today … [The] graveyard is a symbol of bonding for the Uyghurs spiritually, culturally and politically.42
With many of his fellow townspeople, he visited the grave of Shahyari every Friday and after religious holidays, praying in front of the tomb:
I read Mulla Elem Shahyari’s best known poem ‘Rose and Nightingale’ when I was a teenager … After reading his poetry, it inspired me to learn Uyghur classic literature and poetry. Since then, I started writing poems and had them published in local newspapers and journals.43
The last time he visited Shahyari’s shrine was the last time he returned home in February 2017. During that visit, the shrine was in serious disrepair, and the authorities were prohibiting locals from repairing the grave (Figure 23).
Figure 23: A photo of Mulla Elem Shahyari’s Mazar, taken in 2009
Source: Cultural Relics Bureau of Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region (新疆维吾尔自治区文物局), Immovable cultural relics: Aksu area, volume 1 (不可移动的文物 阿克苏地区卷1). Urumqi: Xinjiang meishu shying, 2015, p. 537.
Mr Elkun left Xinjiang in 1999, but his family stayed behind, mostly living in Yéngichimen village. In 2017, Mr Elkun’s father, Dr Isa Abdulla, was laid to rest after a life in the vicinity of Shahyari’s shrine, within 150 metres of it in a cemetery plot prepared by the family several years previously (Figure 24). Unable to return home, or even contact his relatives without risking their punishment, Elkun was forced to mourn from afar, finding his father’s grave on satellite images.
Figure 24: Dr Isa Abdulla’s gravesite, before its demolition
Source: Matt Rivers, ‘More than 100 Uyghur graveyards demolished by Chinese authorities, satellite images show’, CNN, 3 January 2020, online.
However, less than nine months after his father’s death, local authorities in Aksu Prefecture began re-engineering the cemetery. In August 2018, lines of new numbered graves were constructed over a corner of the cemetery. According to official documents and state media reports, the numbered graves are referred to as ‘public welfare ecological cemetery graves’ (公益性生态公墓建设).
Chinese Government officials say that they’re ‘standardising’ and ‘civilising’ public cemeteries in the name of social stability, rural revitalisation and ecological protection while preventing ‘random burials’ and relocating old graves.44 The new graves would eventually cover 1.5 hectares of the old cemetery.
Dr Isa Abdulla’s grave is now unmarked, save for the number 47, and is now otherwise identical to dozens of white clay-brick graves in 39 identical rows (figures 25 and 26).45
Figure 25: Isa Abdullah’s wife and daughter mourn at his new grave in a Chinese state media propaganda report
Source: ‘By following CNN, we find how they make fake news about Xinjiang’, CGTN, 13 January 2020, online.
Figure 26: Toyboldi’s new ‘public welfare ecological cemetery’
Source: ‘By following CNN, we find how they make fake news about Xinjiang’, CGTN, 13 January 2020, online.
The new graves covered only slightly more than 10% of the original cemetery. In early February 2019, the remaining graves, spread over 11 hectares, were levelled, according to satellite imagery analysis.
None of the original graves remains. Although the garden of the mosque, where Shahyari’s shrine sat for hundreds of years, hasn’t been bulldozed, the shrine itself has been demolished.
In 2020, the site was visited by reporters from the Chinese state media outlet CGTN, who filmed the bulldozed and barren remains of the cemetery (Figure 27).46
Figure 27: The grounds of Yengichimen cemetery after being cleared of graves
Source: ‘By following CNN, we find how they make fake news about Xinjiang’, CGTN, 13 January 2020, online.
The CGTN report claimed that Dr Isa Abdullah’s family requested that his body be moved before the original gravesite was demolished. The mechanism of exhumation requests is unknown in this case.
However, a 2019 community notice posted at another to-be-bulldozed cemetery near Hotan gave relatives just three days to register and request the exhumation and relocation of their loved ones’ remains; otherwise, the remains would go unclaimed (Figure 28).47
Figure 28: Public notice of tomb relocation in Hotan
Note: This Uyghur notice states: ‘Notice of relocation of the tomb of Hotan Sultanim Mazar. To the people of the city: In accordance with the needs of our city’s urban development plan and the spirit of the legislation of the Ministry of Civil Affairs of the Autonomous Region on further standardisation of the management of burial places and cemeteries in our autonomous region, as well as the requirements for creating a comfortable environment for the general public, it is decided to relocate corpses from Sultanim Mazar into Imam Muskazim Mazar of the Hotan Prefecture. Therefore we ask the owners of the graves to register at Sultanim Mazar between 18 March 2019 to 20 March 2019. Any graves without registration will be considered as unclaimed graves and will be relocated automatically. A delayed response will be responsible for all the consequences. Please send this notification to others.’ Translation by ASPI.
Source: Bahram Sintash, Demolishing faith: the destruction and desecration of Uyghur mosques and shrines, Uyghur Human Rights Project, October 2019. online.
The policy of demolishing traditional cemeteries and replacing them with ‘public welfare ecological cemeteries’ has been widely adopted throughout Aksu Prefecture. Standardised management of cemetery grounds was adopted in June 2016, and ‘complete coverage’ of numbered clay graves was to be achieved by the end of 2019, according to local media reports.48
Of 26 rural shrine and cemetery complexes that we located in Aksu through satellite imagery analysis, 22 (85%) had had most or all of their graves demolished by 2020, and 15 (58%) of cemeteries had had traditional graves replaced with rows of clay-brick graves (Figure 29).49
Figure 29: Mardan Mugai, Deputy Secretary of Aksu Prefecture’s Party Committee, and other members of the local government standing beside a ‘public welfare ecological cemetery’ construction site
Source: ‘At the end of 2019, the Aksu area has basically achieved full coverage of the construction of public welfare ecological cemeteries’ (2019年底阿克苏地区基本实现公益性生态公墓建设全覆盖), Aksu News Network (阿克苏新闻网), 20 May 2016, online.
In a 2016 speech, the Deputy Secretary of Aksu Prefecture’s Party Committee, Mardan Mugai, called on government departments to ‘waste no time in guiding the masses … to change their customs’ and ‘abandon closed, backwards, conservative and ignorant customs’, 50 referring to traditional cemeteries and burial grounds in the prefecture, including sacred sites and shrines.
An August 2018 state media report claimed that the ‘rectification’ of traditional cemeteries had been implemented in 235 cemeteries across Aksu by the end of July and that the construction of 174 ‘public welfare ecological cemeteries’ had begun.51
Our evidence suggests that this policy has continued unabated since 2018 and that the number of cemeteries with graves demolished and new ‘ecological cemeteries’ built is likely to be roughly double the figure stated above.52
The demolition of spiritual sites in Xinjiang’s Aksu Prefecture represents the forcible severing of ties between Uyghur communities and their history and landscape. Aziz Isa Elkun characterised Shahyari’s shrine and the attached cemetery as the lifeblood of the village, saying, ‘The entire community was connected to that graveyard’ and that it was a place to pray.53
A Uyghur academic we spoke to while writing this report emphasised the importance of cemeteries to the public life and personal identity of Uyghurs and other non-Han nationalities in Xinjiang. The cemeteries, in their words, are ‘a material and symbolic representation of the collective claim to a place, a land and a homeland’.54
Major cemeteries ‘play a significant role in bonding the past and present’. For this individual, China’s new assault on cemeteries is more than the physical removal of sacred areas; it’s an attack on one of the last remaining aspects of Uyghur public life tolerated by Chinese authorities:
Arguably … until this campaign began, [cemeteries] had been the only part of Uyghur physical space, life and culture that hadn’t been tainted by large-scale CCP political imposition … In this sense, the demolition of cemeteries isn’t just an attack on Uyghurs’ claims to ancestral land … it is also a calculated effort to sever the emotional and blood ties to the past.55
Earlier this year, a spokesperson for China’s Foreign Ministry said, in response to concerns raised about the destruction of traditional cemeteries, that ‘Xinjiang fully respect[s] and guarantee[s] the freedom of all ethnic groups … to choose cemeteries, and funeral and burial methods.’56 However, widespread evidence collected by ASPI and other researchers, including satellite images and statements from officials in Xinjiang, shows that to be untrue, as traditional cemeteries are being subjected to a systematic campaign of desecration.
Background: sinicising Xinjiang under Xi Jinping
The Uyghurs and other Turkic minorities are no longer trusted with autonomy or their own cultural traditions but rather must actively embrace the cultural traditions and practices of their Han colonisers.57 This process of incorporation involves both the effacement of certain aspects of minority culture and the reshaping of local cultures and landscapes in order to more firmly stitch them into the national story.
The religious and foreign elements of non-Han cultures are viewed with particular suspicion by government officials.58 At the National Religious Work Conference in April 2016, Xi Jinping stressed the importance of fusing religious doctrines with Chinese culture and preventing foreign interference.
‘The ultimate goal [of religious work]’, the CCP’s top religious policy adviser Zhang Xunmou stated in 2019, ‘is to achieve its complete internal and external sinicisation.’59
In recent years, the Chinese Government has strengthened its control over religion, passing a revised set of regulations monitoring religion in 2017 and subsuming the state body managing religious affairs into the CCP’s United Front Work Department (UFWD) in 2018.60
Despite the fact that Xinjiang was designated a Uyghur autonomous region in 1955, Xinjiang is now spoken about as a location of ‘cultural integration’, where different peoples, religions, and cultures have long ‘coexisted’, ‘blended’ and, ultimately, fused together.61 This is despite the fact that Uyghurs and other Turkic or Muslim minorities made up roughly 59% of the XUAR’s population in 2018,62 and nearly 60% of Xinjiang’s 25 million residents practise some form of Islam.63
The Chinese state recognised the importance of documenting and protecting the ‘excellent traditional ethnic cultures’ (优秀传统民族文化) of Xinjiang in a 2018 government White Paper, but also stressed the need to ‘modernise’ and ‘localise’ the ethnic cultures while insisting that ‘Chinese culture’ is the ‘bond that unites various ethnic groups’.64 Foreign reporters on state-sponsored trips to Xinjiang are told Uyghurs are ‘immigrants’ to Xinjiang and that Islam was imposed on Uyghurs by foreigners.65
That ethos was outlined in a 2019 state media editorial by hardline public intellectual Ma Pinyan, who claims the various ethnic cultures of Xinjiang have been ‘nurtured’ in the ‘bosom’ and ‘fertile soil’ of Chinese civilisation and culture: ‘Without Chinese culture, the culture of any other ethnic group would be like a tree without roots and water.’66 In this telling, Xinjiang culture wasn’t synonymous with Islamic culture; rather, Uyghur culture, in particular, ‘originated from Chinese culture dominated by Confucianism’.67
In Xinjiang, officials have cracked down on ‘illegal’ or ‘abnormal’ religious practice among the Uyghurs and other Muslims since 2009, outlawing ‘illegal religious activities’ as they tightened controls over Islamic education, worship, fasting and veiling.68 Islamic-sounding names were banned,69 and ‘extremist’ religious materials (Qurans, prayer mats, CDs etc.) were confiscated70 and, in one case, appear to have been burned in public.71
In 2014, the former Executive Director of the UFWD,72 Zhu Weiqun, blamed ‘religious fanaticism’ (宗教狂热) for unrest in Xinjiang and called for ‘persisting with the trend towards secularisation’ within Xinjiang society in a state media interview.73 In 2017, the XUAR passed a comprehensive set of regulations to guide ‘deradicalisation’ work across Xinjiang—a set of rules that was revised in October 2018 to retrospectively authorise the mass detention of Uyghurs in ‘re-education’ camps.74
Xinjiang officials now warn against the ‘Halal-isation’ (清真泛化),75 ‘Muslim-isation’ (穆斯林化),76 and ‘Arab-isation’ (阿拉伯化)77 of religious practices in Xinjiang and seek to actively ‘rectify’ any practices, products, symbols and architectural styles deemed out of keeping with ‘Chinese tradition’.78
Tighter control over mosques and religious personnel is central to the plan to sinicise Islam in Xinjiang, as is the ‘rectifying’ of places of religious worship. Wang Jingfu, head of the Ethnic and Religious Affairs Committee in Kashgar city, told Radio Free Asia in 2016:
We launched the rectification campaign with the purpose of protecting the safety of the worshippers because all the mosques were too old. We demolished nearly 70% of mosques in the city because there were more than enough mosques and some were unnecessary.79
Under the UFWD’s ‘four entrances campaign’ (‘四进’清真寺活动), mosques across Xinjiang are required to hang the national flag; post copies of the Chinese Constitution, laws and regulations; uphold core socialist values; and reflect ‘excellent traditional Chinese culture’.80 Architecturally, this involves the removal of Arabic calligraphy, minarets, domes and star-and-crescent and other symbols deemed ‘foreign’ and their replacement with traditional Chinese architectural elements.81
Finally, the control and sinicisation of Xinjiang also advances the state’s economic agenda through commodified and curated tourism and the promotion of Xinjiang as a key node in Xi Jinping’s Belt and Road Initiative.82
Cultural heritage and the role of UNESCO
The global bodies charged with the preservation of cultural heritage worldwide have been silent on cultural destruction in Xinjiang. The Chinese Government has worked closely with UNESCO after ratifying the UNESCO World Heritage Convention in 1985 to develop its capacities for preservation work.83
There’s been a sustained, top-down effort involving all levels of the Chinese Government to expand the formal recognition of Chinese cultural sites and intangible culture on the world stage and to deepen China’s involvement and influence in UNESCO,84 pre-dating, and assisted by, the US decision to reduce funding and withdraw from UNESCO in 2017.85 China’s representative, Qu Xing, is the organisation’s current Deputy Director-General.86
Evidence of those efforts came in 2019, when the total number of Chinese UNESCO World Heritage sites reached 55, making China the country with the most such sites.87 Cultural heritage is not only a soft-power asset for the Chinese state but also a tool of governance. Rachel Harris reminds us:
It can be used to control and manage tradition, cultural practices, and religion and to steer people’s memories, sense of place, and identities in particular ways, providing a softer and less visible way of rendering individuals governable.88
Two Uyghur cultural practices are listed on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage register: the 12 muqam,89 inscribed in 2005; and the mäshräp,90 inscribed in 2010.
However, both these diverse and rich cultural practices, which involve song, dance and storytelling, have been co-opted and politicised by the Chinese Government. Mäshräp has been stripped of its religious content and is now used to counter extremism,91 while muqam has been commodified, rewritten and secularised for safe consumption.92 Meanwhile, well-known Uyghur performers of traditional Uyghur music, such as Abdurehim Heyt and Sanubar Tursun, suddenly disappeared from public life in 2017 and 2018 before resurfacing under mysterious circumstances.93
UNESCO, which is an organisation founded to ‘promote the equal dignity of all cultures’ and ‘in response to a world war marked by racist and anti-semitic violence’,94 has made no public comment on the abuses perpetrated against Xinjiang’s minorities by the Chinese state.
Similarly, UNESCO’s advisory body dedicated to protecting ‘cultural heritage places’, the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS), has been silent on the destruction of cultural heritage in Xinjiang while publicly condemning, for example, Turkey’s decision to ‘reverse the status of Hagia Sophia from a museum to a mosque’ in July 2020.95 In 2009, the US branch of ICOMOS publicly expressed concern about the demolition of much of the old city of Kashgar,96 but it’s been silent since then.
For over a decade, the World Monuments Fund, a New York based non-profit, has trained Chinese conservators and helped to fund the renovation of the Forbidden City and the Great Wall, while doing nothing to stop the wanton cultural destruction in Xinjiang.97
ASPI repeatedly sought comments from UNESCO and ICOMOS about their public position on Xinjiang and the Uyghurs but received no response.
These organisations must re-examine their mission. Their failure to investigate or comment on the destruction of indigenous culture in Xinjiang suggests their capture by or subservience to Beijing.
Conclusion and recommendations
The Chinese Government’s sinicisation policies in Xinjiang have led to the destruction of thousands of mosques and hundreds of sacred cultural sites. These acts of intentional desecration are also acts of cultural erasure. The physical landscape—its sacred sites and even more prosaic structures—holds the memories and identities of local community and ethnic groups. ‘Memory floats in the mind’, eminent historian R Stephen Humphreys remarked in 2002, ‘but it is fixed and secured by objects.’98
The Chinese Government’s destruction of cultural heritage aims to erase, replace and rewrite what it means to be Uyghur and to live in the XUAR. The state is intentionally recasting its Turkic and Muslim minorities in the image of the Han centre for the purposes of control, domination and profit.
The Chinese state has long sought to ‘transform’ and ‘civilise’ Xinjiang, but Xi Jinping and his lieutenants bring a new sense of urgency to this colonialist project. Under the guise of combating perceived ‘religious extremism’ and promoting ‘inter-ethnic mingling’, Chinese officials are slowly but systematically stripping away those elements of Uyghur culture they deem to be ‘foreign’, ‘backward’, ‘abnormal’ or simply out of sync with Han-centric norms. What remains is a Potemkin village: sites and performances for tourist consumption and propaganda junkets.
Unlike the international condemnation that followed the Taliban’s dynamiting of the Bamyan Buddhas in Afghanistan99 or the destruction of parts of Dubrovnik and Sarajevo following the collapse of Yugoslavia,100 China’s acts of cultural erasure in Xinjiang have been perhaps less dramatic and visible, yet arguably far more wide-ranging and impactful.
In the light of this report’s findings, ASPI recommends as follows:
The Chinese Government must abide by Article 4 of its own Constitution, allow the indigenous communities of Xinjiang to preserve their own cultural heritage and protect the freedom of religious belief outlined in Article 36, and not in ways that are defined and controlled by authorities who appear to have the opposite motive. It must uphold the autonomous rights of its non-Han communities to protect their own cultural relics and heritage under the 1984 Law on Regional Ethnic Autonomy and cease the demolition of significant cultural and religious sites in the XUAR.
UNESCO and ICOMOS should immediately investigate the state of indigenous cultural heritage in Xinjiang and, if the Chinese Government is found to be in violation of the spirit of both organisations, it should be appropriately sanctioned. Both organisations must make public statements on the cultural erasure in Xinjiang, drawing on our investigations and other existing research.
National governments should apply public pressure to UNESCO, ICOMOS and other conservation bodies if they fail to respond to Uyghur cultural destruction in Xinjiang.
International cultural and heritage organisations such as UNESCO and ICOMOS must shift from silence on cultural erasure in Xinjiang to a coordinated approach with the global human rights network, which is already engaged in bringing international pressure to bear on Chinese authorities in ways relevant to the missions of UNESCO and ICOMOS.
Governments throughout the world, including governments of developing and Muslim-majority countries, must speak out and pressure the Chinese Government to end its genocidal policies in Xinjiang, stop the deliberate destruction of indigenous cultural practices and tangible sites, and consider sanctions or even the boycotting of major cultural events held in China, including the 2022 Winter Olympics.
Appendix: Full methodology
For both datasets, the basic methodological aim was the creation of a new, unbiased, stratified dataset of locations of mosques and sacred sites before the 2017 crackdown. Those locations were then checked against recent satellite imagery to ascertain their current status.
Mosques
The Chinese Government’s 2004 Economic Census identified nearly 24,000 mosques in Xinjiang.101
Accordingly, it wouldn’t be feasible to manually examine every site and ascertain its current status following the 2017 crackdown. Therefore, in order to estimate the number of mosques damaged and destroyed in Xinjiang, we needed to build our own dataset of suitable sample sites and then extrapolate the results across the region.
For valid extrapolation, it was crucial to obtain a nearly random sample of Xinjiang’s mosques. Therefore, any previously created lists of demolished mosques needed to be completely ignored.
Instead, we needed to create a novel database free of any sampling bias. The most complete source of this data would be through official Chinese Government information; however, there are significant barriers to access to and use of that information.
The data from the 2004 Economic Census provided addresses for each of the nearly 24,000 mosque sites in Xinjiang;102 however, in many cases, the addresses are imprecise and couldn’t be clearly associated with physical buildings visible in the satellite imagery. Therefore, we used a combination of two different methods.
First, an aggregated database of 10,000,000+ points of interest (POIs) across China was obtained. The POIs primarily represented businesses, amenities or attractions located with high precision, largely for inclusion into national navigation and online map platforms. An example of the density and precision of the POIs is shown in Figure 30 as a screenshot of a map of part of the regional capital, Urumqi.
Figure 30: A map showing the full POI database consulted (not queried for mosque) across a neighbourhood in Urumqi
Source: ASPI ICPC.
The database was queried for the word ‘清真寺’ (mosque). That yielded 1,733 mosques nationwide, including 289 in Xinjiang. Of those, 16 were excluded due to their current status or location being unclear or due to being duplicate results, leaving 273.
A visual examination of the mosques found through this method showed varied results for the size and prominence of the mosques, along with their locations (rural or urban). Mosques in Urumqi were overrepresented compared with those in other prefectures. This bias was accounted for by the prefecture-based extrapolation explained below.
For purposes of comparison, the database was also queried for the terms ‘教堂’ (church) and ‘庙’ (temple). Those queries yielded 14 and eight results, respectively (representing 13.6% and 16.6% of all sites of those denominations in Xinjiang when compared to the 2004 Census). Of those, none had been damaged or demolished.103
Additionally, we conducted a systematic visual search of mosques using pre-2017 satellite imagery.
That was done by selecting three search locations for each county: one in the county centre, one in a randomly selected township centre and one in a randomly selected village.104 Each search point was expanded into a circle with a 2.5-kilometre radius to define a search area.
That resulted in 307 search areas. Mosques were found in approximately 70% of the areas; the 94 remaining search areas generally had inadequate satellite imagery to ascertain the location of the mosque, or had no clearly discernible mosque in the search area.105 Finally, duplicates were removed.
Later, we removed mosques for which recent satellite imagery was unavailable and the current status of which couldn’t be ascertained.106 That left a total of 192 mosques found through this method.
The dataset was completed using only pre-2017 imagery to avoid accidental bias towards demolished mosques (for example, through structures suspected to be mosques being ‘confirmed’ as mosques by their demolition).
Finally, a second POI database from AutoNavi was queried for mosques. That found an additional 73 mosques, of which 67 were unique and not duplicates of previously examined mosques.
Together, using these two methodologies and three datasets, we found a total of 533 unique mosques, representing 2.25% of the official total in the region. A map of all mosques in our pre-2017 dataset is included in Figure 31.
Figure 31: The distribution of mosques located as part of the pre-2017 dataset
Source ASPI ICPC.
Once we compiled the pre-2017 dataset of mosque locations, each one was then visually compared to recent satellite imagery (generally mid-2019 to 2020). We recorded its current status, changes since 2017 and, where available, date ranges for the demolition or removal of Islamic architecture.107 For undamaged sites, we recorded the date of the last available satellite imagery so that follow-up studies can be prioritised to look at the ‘oldest’ sites. We generally accessed satellite images via Google Earth; where Google Earth didn’t have sufficient satellite imagery, we used other commercial sources with 30–50-centimetre resolution.
In some cases, we based the distinction between ‘slightly damaged’ and ‘significantly damaged’ on an assessment of how important the removed features were to the mosque’s structure and aesthetics.
For example, a mosque with only a small dome that had been removed would be coded as slightly damaged, despite the fact that all Islamic architecture on the structure had been removed, as the dome wasn’t a significant element in the building’s earlier aesthetics.
Those results were then tabulated by prefecture and current status. Eleven prefectures had over 2.5% of their total mosques represented in our sample.
We performed statistical tests against the data to determine any predictive variables, including population density, distance from county centre, distance from prefectural city, percentage of minority population and latitude. None of those tests showed significant responses to rates of damage and demolition. The variables are available on request to researchers who want to explore potential correlations further.
Extrapolation for the total number of destroyed and damaged mosques across Xinjiang was done at the prefectural level, which accounted for the majority of variation within the sampled data. For the 11 prefectures that were represented by over 2.5% of their total mosques, we directly extrapolated using the sampled data; for example, in Urumqi, where 38% of mosques were sampled, 17% were destroyed, so we extrapolated that 17% of all mosques had been destroyed.
For the remaining prefectures with under 2.5% of all mosques sampled, the extrapolation was guided equally, using both the prefectural rates of destruction and the Xinjiang-wide rates (excluding Urumqi, an outlier in our sample and dramatically overrepresented). For example, if a prefecture with fewer than 2.5% of mosques sampled had 40% of all sampled mosques destroyed, but the Xinjiang-wide rate was only 30%,108 it would be extrapolated that 35% of all mosques had been destroyed in the prefecture.
Cultural sites
We analysed shrines and other sacred sites in a similar manner. We selected and located a total of 251 culturally significant sites from Xinjiang’s Cultural Heritage Bureau’s 30-volume Immovable cultural relics encyclopedia.109 Our efforts focused only on southern Xinjiang, where the Uyghur population is concentrated, and traditional Uyghur cultural influences are more pronounced.
We selected sites for inclusion based on their assessed cultural significance with assistance from a Uyghur analyst, and where possible then found the exact location of those sites. Additionally, we queried a separate 6,000,000-point POI database obtained from academic sources for the term 麻扎 (mazar, ‘shrine’). That resulted in 131 points in the examined prefectures that could be confidently linked to a suitable location, such as a cemetery complex, mosque or shrine structure.
The inclusion of those points was considered important owing to the bias against Islamic sites in China’s official protection of heritage and was designed to expand our dataset to include sacred sites that aren’t formally registered or protected and that therefore don’t appear in the volumes we consulted.
This dataset was then compared against recent satellite imagery in the same manner that mosques were, and the same values were recorded. No extrapolation was done with this dataset to quantify the total numbers of damaged and destroyed sites beyond our sample due to the lack of information on the number of sites before 2017.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank our peer reviewers including Professor Rachel Harris, Dr Elise Anderson, Nicole Morgret, Michael Shoebridge, and an anonymous reviewer. We are grateful for the advice of Jacinta Holloway and Dr Lorenz Wendt on the statistical model for calculating the region-wide rates of damage from our samples. The artwork on the cover of the report was created by an artist who would rather stay anonymous, we thank them nonetheless. Please note that due to safety concerns, Tilla Hoja is a pseudonym. Finally, we would like to thank ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre Deputy Director Danielle Cave and Director Fergus Hanson for their support and guidance. ASPI was awarded a research grant from the US Department of State, which was used towards this report. More detail about that grant, and the research activities it supports, can be found here: https://xjdp.aspi.org.au/about/. The work of ASPI ICPC would not be possible without the support of our partners and sponsors across governments, industry and civil society.
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First published September 2020.
ISSN 2209-9689 (online), ISSN 2209-9670 (print)
Funding for this report was provided by the US Department of State
See, for example, Austin Ramzy, Chris Buckley, ‘“Absolutely no mercy”: leaked files expose how China organized mass detentions of Muslims’, New York Times, 16 November 2019, online; Bethany Allen-Ebrahimian, ‘Exposed: China’s operating manuals for mass internment and arrest by algorithm’, International Consortium of Investigative Journalists, 24 November 2019, online; James Leibold, ‘The spectre of insecurity: the CCP’s mass internment strategy in Xinjiang’, China Leadership Monitor, 1 March 2019, online; ‘“Eradicating ideological viruses”: China’s campaign of repression against Xinjiang’s Muslims’, Human Rights Watch, 9 September 2018, online; Adrian Zenz, ‘Sterilizations, IUDs, and mandatory birth control: the CCP’s campaign to suppress Uyghur birthrates in Xinjiang’, Jamestown Foundation, 21 July 2020, online. ↩︎
‘Global coalition urges UN to address China’s human rights abuses’, Human Rights Watch, 9 September 2020, online; ‘Global call for international human rights monitoring mechanisms on China’, Human Rights Watch, 9 September 2020, online. ↩︎
James Leibold, ‘China’s ethnic policy under Xi Jinping’, Jamestown Foundation, 19 October 2015, online. For Xi, culture is the ‘blood vessels’ of the nation, in which Zhonghua (Chinese) culture is formed through a ‘grand national fusion’ that includes various minority nationalities but has the Han ethnic majority at its core. ‘Chinese civilisation’, Xi declared in September 2019, ‘possesses a uniquely embracive and absorbent character.’ See Xi Jinping (习近平), ‘Speech at the national awards ceremony for advancing national unity’ (在全国民族团结进步表彰大会上 的讲话), Xinhua Net (新华网), 27 September 2019. ↩︎
Lily Kuo, ‘Revealed: new evidence of China’s mission to raze the mosques of Xinjiang’, The Guardian, 7 May 2019, online; ‘Two of three mosques in Xinjiang village razed amid campaign targeting Muslim holy sites’, Radio Free Asia, 11 August 2020, online; Nick Waters, ‘Are historic mosques in Xinjiang being destroyed?’, BellingCat, 5 April 2019, online; Bahram K Sintash, Demolishing faith: the destruction and desecration of Uyghur mosques and shrines, Uyghur Human Rights Project, October 2019. ↩︎
Wang Qingyun, ‘Foreign Ministry refutes US “lies” about Tibet and Xinjiang regions’, China Daily, 31 December 2019, online; Liu Xin, Fan Lingzhi, ‘Xinjiang refutes latest set of lies’, China Global Times, 3 January 2020. ↩︎
State Council Information Office (SCIO), ‘Cultural protection and development in Xinjiang’, PRC Government, November 2018, online. ↩︎
Li Xiaoxia (李晓霞), ‘Analysis on the quantity change and management policy of Xinjiang mosques’ (新疆清真寺的数量变化及管理政策分 析), Sociology of Ethnicity (民族社会学研究通讯), vol. 164, 2018, online. ↩︎
The Chinese Communist Party’s global search for technology and talent
NOTE:
In Policy Brief Report No. 35 ‘Hunting the Phoenix’ by Alex Joske and published by the Australian Strategic Policy Institute, reference was made to Professor Wenlong Cheng, Professor and Director of Research, Chemical Engineering at Monash University. The author and the Australian Strategic Policy Institute accept Professor Cheng’s indication that he did not accept nor derive any benefit from the Thousand Talents Plan, or been involved in or contributed to China’s defence development. Further, the author and the Australian Strategic Policy Institute did not intend to imply that Professor Cheng had engaged in any discreditable conduct and if any reader understood the publication in that way, any such suggestion is withdrawn. The author and the Australian Strategic Policy Institute apologise to Professor Cheng for any hurt caused to him.
What’s the problem?
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) uses talent-recruitment programs to gain technology from abroad through illegal or non-transparent means. According to official statistics, China’s talent-recruitment programs drew in almost 60,000 overseas professionals between 2008 and 2016. These efforts lack transparency; are widely associated with misconduct, intellectual property theft or espionage; contribute to the People’s Liberation Army’s modernisation; and facilitate human rights abuses.
They form a core part of the CCP’s efforts to build its own power by leveraging foreign technology and expertise. Over the long term, China’s recruitment of overseas talent could shift the balance of power between it and countries such as the US. Talent recruitment isn’t inherently problematic, but the scale, organisation and level of misconduct associated with CCP talent-recruitment programs sets them apart from efforts by other countries. These concerns underline the need for governments to do more to recognise and respond to CCP talent-recruitment activities.
The mechanisms of CCP talent recruitment are poorly understood. They’re much broader than the Thousand Talents Plan—the best known among more than 200 CCP talent-recruitment programs. Domestically, they involve creating favourable conditions for overseas scientists, regardless of ethnicity, to work in China.1 Those efforts are sometimes described by official sources as ‘building nests to attract phoenixes’.2
This report focuses on overseas talent-recruitment operations—how the CCP goes abroad to hunt or lure phoenixes. It studies, for the first time, 600 ‘overseas talent-recruitment stations’ that recruit and gather information on scientists. Overseas organisations, often linked to the CCP’s united front system and overlapping with its political influence efforts, are paid to run most of the stations.3
What’s the solution?
Responses to CCP talent-recruitment programs should increase awareness and the transparency of the programs.
Governments should coordinate with like-minded partners, study CCP talent-recruitment activity, increase transparency on external funding in universities and establish research integrity offices that monitor such activities. They should introduce greater funding to support the retention of talent and technology.
Security agencies should investigate illegal behaviour tied to foreign talent-recruitment activity.
Funding agencies should require grant recipients to fully disclose any participation in foreign talent-recruitment programs, investigate potential grant fraud and ensure compliance with funding agreements.
Research institutions should audit the extent of staff participation in foreign talent-recruitment programs. They should act on cases of misconduct, including undeclared external commitments, grant fraud and violations of intellectual property policies. They should examine and update policies as necessary. University staff should be briefed on foreign talent-recruitment programs and disclosure requirements.
Introduction
The party and the state respect the choices of those studying abroad. If you choose to return to China to work, we will open our arms to warmly welcome you. If you stay abroad, we will support you serving the country through various means.
—Xi Jinping, 2013 speech at the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Western Returned Scholars Association, which is run by the United Front Work Department.4
The CCP views technological development as fundamental to its ambitions. Its goal isn’t to achieve parity with other countries, but dominance and primacy. In 2018, General Secretary Xi Jinping urged the country’s scientists and engineers to ‘actively seize the commanding heights of technological competition and future development’.5 The Made in China 2025 industrial plan drew attention to the party’s long-held aspiration for self-sufficiency and indigenous innovation in core industries, in contrast to the more open and collaborative approach to science practised by democratic nations.6
The CCP treats talent recruitment as a form of technology transfer.7 Its efforts to influence and attract professionals are active globally and cover all developed nations. The Chinese Government claims that its talent-recruitment programs recruited as many as 60,000 overseas scientists and entrepreneurs between 2008 and 2016.8 The Chinese Government runs more than 200 talent-recruitment programs, of which the Thousand Talents Plan is only one (see Appendix 1).
The US is the main country targeted by these efforts and has been described by Chinese state media as ‘the largest “treasure trove” of technological talent’.9 In addition to the US, it’s likely that more than a thousand individuals have been recruited from each of the UK, Germany, Singapore, Canada, Japan, France and Australia since 2008.10
Future ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre research will detail Chinese Government talent- recruitment efforts in Australia. Past reports have identified a handful of Australian participants in China’s talent-recruitment programs, including senior and well-funded scientists, and around a dozen CCP-linked organisations promoting talent-recruitment work and technology transfer to China.11 However, the scale of those activities is far greater than has been appreciated in Australia.
China’s prodigious recruitment of overseas scientists will be key to its ambition to dominate future technologies and modernise its military. Participants in talent-recruitment programs also appear to be disproportionately represented among overseas scientists collaborating with the Chinese military. Many recruits work on dual-use technologies at Chinese institutions that are closely linked to the People’s Liberation Army.
These activities often exploit the high-trust and open scientific communities of developed countries. In 2015, Xi Jinping told a gathering of overseas Chinese scholars that the party would ‘support you serving the country through various means’.12 As detailed in Bill Hannas, James Mulvenon and Anna Puglisi’s 2013 book Chinese industrial espionage, those ‘various means’ have often included theft, espionage, fraud and dishonesty.13 The CCP hasn’t attempted to limit those behaviours. In fact, cases of misconduct associated with talent programs have ballooned in recent years. The secrecy of the programs has only been increasing.
The CCPs’ talent-recruitment efforts cover a spectrum of activity, from legal and overt activity to illegal and covert work (Figure 1). Like other countries, China often recruits scientists through fair means and standard recruitment practices. It gains technology and expertise from abroad through accepted channels such as research collaboration, joint laboratories and overseas training. However, overt forms of exchange may disguise misconduct and illegal activity. Collaboration and joint laboratories can be used to hide undeclared conflicts of commitment, and recruitment programs can encourage misconduct. Participants in talent-recruitment programs may also be obliged to influence engagement between their home institution and China. The Chinese Government appears to have rewarded some scientists caught stealing technology through talent-recruitment programs. In some cases, Chinese intelligence officers may have been involved in talent recruitment. Illustrating the covert side of talent recruitment, this report discusses cases of espionage or misconduct associated with talent recruitment and how the Chinese military benefits from it (Appendix 2).
Figure 1: The spectrum of the CCP’s technology transfer efforts
Talent-recruitment work has been emphasised by China’s central government since the 1980s and has greatly expanded during the past two decades.14 In 2003, the CCP established central bodies to oversee talent development, including the Central Coordinating Group on Talent Work ( 中 央 人才工作协调小组), which is administered by the Central Committee’s Organisation Department and includes representation from roughly two dozen agencies.15 In 2008, the party established the national Overseas High-level Talent Recruitment Work Group (海外高层次人才引进工作小组) to oversee the Thousand Talents Plan (see box).16 Local governments around China also regularly hold recruitment events at which overseas scientists are signed up to talent-recruitment schemes and funding initiatives.17 This demonstrates how talent-recruitment efforts are a high priority for the CCP, transcending any particular bureaucracy and carried out from the centre down to county governments.
The Overseas High-level Talent Recruitment Work Group
The Overseas High-level Talent Recruitment Work Group was established in 2008 to oversee the implementation of the Thousand Talents Plan. It’s administered by the Central Committee’s Organisation Department, which plays a coordinating role in talent recruitment work carried out by government and party agencies. Its members include the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, the Ministry of Education, the Ministry of Science and Technology, the People’s Bank of China, the State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission, the Chinese Academy of Sciences, the United Front Work Department (UFWD) of the Central Committee of the CCP, the National Development and Reform Commission, the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, the Ministry of Public Security, the Ministry of Finance, the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office (now part of the UFWD), the Chinese Academy of Engineering, the National Natural Science Foundation, the State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs (now part of the Ministry of Science and Technology), the Communist Youth League of China and the China Association for Science and Technology.18
To illustrate the international reach of CCP talent recruitment, the ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) has created an original database of 600 overseas talent-recruitment stations. The operation of the stations is contracted out to organisations or individuals who are paid to recruit overseas scientists. They might not have a clear physical presence or might be co-located with the organisations contracted to run them (see box). This is a growing part of the CCP’s talent-recruitment infrastructure—providing on-the-ground support to the CCP’s efforts to identify and recruit experts from abroad—but it has never been analysed in detail before.
Features of overseas talent-recruitment stations
Overseas organisations or individuals contracted by the CCP to carry out talent-recruitment work
Often run by overseas united front groups
Tasked to collect information on and recruit overseas scientists
Promote scientific collaboration and exchanges with China
Organise trips by overseas scientists to China
Present across the developed world
May receive instructions to target individuals with access to particular technologies
Paid up to A$30,000 annually, plus bonus payments for each successful recruitment
The database was compiled using open-source online information from Chinese-language websites. Those sources included Chinese Government websites or media pages announcing the establishment of overseas recruitment stations and websites affiliated with overseas organisations running recruitment stations. We carried out keyword searches using various Chinese terms for talent-recruitment stations to identify their presence across the globe. An interactive version of the map of stations is in the online version of this report (Figure 2).
Figure 2: Overseas recruitment stations and their links back to China
Please click the map for the interactive database. Hover over data points for details on each recruitment station. Please note: stations are geo-located to City level (not street-level).
Using examples and case studies of stations from around the world, this report also reveals the role of the united front system in talent-recruitment work. The united front system is a network of CCP-backed agencies and organisations working to expand the party’s United Front—a coalition of groups and individuals working towards the party’s goals. Many of those agencies and organisations run overseas recruitment stations. As detailed in the ASPI report The party speaks for you: foreign interference and the Chinese Communist Party, the system is widely known for its involvement in political influence work, but its contributions to technology transfer have attracted little attention.
China’s talent-recruitment programs are unlike efforts by Western governments to attract scientific talent. As two scholars involved in advising the CCP on talent recruitment wrote in 2013, ‘The Chinese government has been the most assertive government in the world in introducing policies targeted at triggering a reverse brain drain.’19 The flow of talent from China is still largely in the direction of the US.20 However, research from the Center for Security and Emerging Technology found that the proportion of Chinese STEM PhD graduates of US universities intending to stay in the US has declined over the past two decades.21 In May 2020, the US Government announced new restrictions on visas for scientists linked to the Chinese military.22
The widespread misconduct associated with CCP talent-recruitment programs sets them apart from efforts by other nations. For example, an investigation by the Texas A&M University system found more than 100 staff linked to China’s talent programs, but only five disclosed it despite employees being required to do so.23 That level of misconduct hasn’t been reported in other countries’ talent-recruitment efforts. The absence of any serious attempt by the Chinese Government or its universities to discourage theft as part of its recruitment programs amounts to a tacit endorsement of the programs’ use to facilitate espionage, misconduct and non-transparent technology transfers.
The extent of misconduct by selectees suggests that this is enabled or encouraged by agencies overseeing the programs. Agencies at the centre of China’s talent recruitment efforts have themselves been directly involved in illegal activity. For example, an official from China’s State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs was involved in stealing US missile technology through the recruitment of a US scientist (see Noshir Gowadia case in Appendix 2).24
Talent recruitment programs have been used to incentivise and reward economic espionage. For example, in 2013, Zhao Huajun (赵华军), was imprisoned in the US after stealing vials of a cancer research compound, which he allegedly used to apply for sponsorship there.25 A month after Zhao was released from prison, he was recruited by the Zhejiang Chinese Medicine University through the Qianjiang Scholars (钱江学者) program.26 In another case, a Coca-Cola scientist allegedly conspired with a Chinese company to secure talent-recruitment program funding on the basis of stolen trade secrets.27
Talent-recruitment programs are also tied to research commercialisation. Applicants to the Thousand Talents Plan have the option to join as ‘entrepreneurs’ rather than as scientists, supporting companies they have established in China.28 The Thousand Talents Plan is supported by the Thousand Talents Plan Venture Capital Center (千人计划创投中心), which runs competitions to pair participants with start-up funding.29
Commercial activity by talent-recruitment program participants isn’t always disclosed, which often breaches university policies on intellectual property and commercialisation. One recruit from an Australian university set up a laboratory and an artificial intelligence (AI) company in China that later received funding linked to the Thousand Talents Plan Venture Capital Center, but reportedly didn’t disclose that to his Australian university, against existing university policies. The company later supplied surveillance technology to authorities in Xinjiang.30
US investigations of participants in talent-recruitment programs have led to an increase in the programs’ secrecy, rather than reforms to make them more transparent and accountable. In September 2018, the Chinese Government began removing references to the Thousand Talents Plan from the internet and ordering organisations to use more covert methods of recruitment.31 A leaked directive told those carrying out recruitment work for the plan to not use email when inviting potential recruits to China for interviews, and instead make contact by phone or fax under the guise of inviting them to a conference (Figure 3). ‘Written notices should not contain the words “Thousand Talents Plan”’, the document states. In 2018, the official website of the Thousand Talents Plan removed all news articles about the program, before going offline in 2020.32
Figure 3: A leaked notice from September 2018 ordering organisations to use more covert methods of recruiting Thousand Talents Plan participants
Highlighted text: ‘In order to further improve work guaranteeing the safety of overseas talent, work units should not use emails, and instead use phone or fax, when carrying out the interview process. [Candidates] should be notified under the name of inviting them to return to China to participate in an academic conference or forum. Written notices should not include the words “Thousand Talents Plan”.’
Source: ‘被美國盯上 傳中國引進人才不再提千人計畫’ [Targeted by the US, it’s rumoured that China will no longer mention the 1,000 Talent Plan], CNA.com, 5 October 2018, online.
CCP technology-transfer efforts are often flexible and encourage individuals to find ways to serve from overseas. Participants in the Thousand Talents Plan, for example, have the option to enter a ‘short-term’ version of the program that requires them to spend only two months in China each year.33 Some selectees establish joint laboratories between their home institutions and their Chinese employers, which could be a way to disguise conflicts of commitment where they have agreed to spend time working for both institutions.34 ‘This enables them to maintain multiple appointments at once, which may not be fully disclosed. This may mean that they’re effectively using time, resources and facilities paid for by their home institutions to benefit Chinese institutions.
Without residing in China, scientists can support collaboration with Chinese institutions, receive visiting Chinese scholars and students and align their research with China’s priorities. Steven X Ding (丁先春), a professor at the University of Duisburg in Germany who has also been affiliated with Tianjin University, was quoted describing this mentality when he worked as vice president of the University of Applied Science Lausitz:35
I manage scientific research at the university, which has more than 100 projects supervised by me—this is a ‘group advantage’. I can serve as a bridge between China and Germany for technological exchange … and I can make greater contributions than if I returned to China on my own. Foreign countries aren’t just advanced in their technologies, but also their management is more outstanding. Being in Germany I can introduce advanced technologies to China, assist communication, exchange and cooperation, and play a role as a window and a bridge [between China and Germany].36
The CCP’s talent-recruitment activities are also notable for their strategic implications. The deepening of ‘military–civil fusion’ (a CCP policy of leveraging the civilian sector to maximise military power) means that China’s research institutes and universities are increasingly involved in classified defence research, including the development of nuclear weapons.37 Chinese companies and universities are also working directly with public security agencies to support the oppression and surveillance of minorities through their development and production of surveillance technologies.38 Participants in talent-recruitment programs also appear to be disproportionately represented among overseas scientists collaborating with the Chinese military.39 Recruitment work by the People’s Liberation Army and state-owned defence conglomerates is described later in this report.
These structures behind talent-recruitment activity and their links to national initiatives show how it’s backed by the party’s leaders and high-level agencies and has clear objectives. This contradicts the theory that China employs a ‘thousand grains of sand’ approach to intelligence gathering or economic espionage, relying on uncoordinated waves of amateur ethnic-Chinese collectors to hoover up technology.40 Indeed, what may be one of the most egregious charges of misconduct related to a talent-recruitment program involves Harvard Professor Charles Lieber, a nanotechnologist with no Chinese heritage, who was arrested in 2020 for allegedly failing to disclose a US$50,000 monthly salary he received from a Chinese university as part of the Thousand Talents Plan.41 As shown by the case of Zheng Xiaoqing, who allegedly stole jet turbine technology from GE Aviation while joining the Thousand Talents Plan as part of a Jiangsu State Security Department operation, talent recruitment can at times involve professional intelligence officers (see Appendix 2).
In 2012, Peter Mattis, an expert on CCP intelligence activity, wrote that ‘The “grains of sand” concept focuses analytic attention on the [counter-intelligence] risk individuals pose rather than on government intelligence services.’42 In the case of talent-recruitment programs, interpreting them through the lens of a ‘grains of sand’ model would place greater emphasis on individuals involved in the programs while neglecting the mechanisms of talent recruitment activity used by the CCP. Talent-recruitment efforts are carried out with heavy involvement from the united front system and dedicated agencies such as the Ministry of Science and Technology’s State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs.43
It isn’t an ethnic program with individual actors at its core—it’s a CCP program leveraging incentives as well as organised recruitment activity—yet it’s often framed by the party as serving the country’s ethno-nationalist rejuvenation.44
Recognising these features of CCP technology-transfer activity—such as its central and strategic guidance, implementation across various levels of the Chinese Government, high-rate of misconduct and reliance on overseas recruitment mechanisms—should be fundamental to any responses to the activity.45 Poorly executed, and sometimes misguided, attempts at investigating and prosecuting suspected cases of industrial espionage have helped build an image of both the problem and enforcement actions as being driven by racial factors rather than state direction.46
Talent-recruitment stations
Chinese Government and Party agencies from the national to the district level have established hundreds of ‘overseas talent recruitment workstations’ in countries with high-quality talent, cutting-edge industries and advanced technology.47 The stations are established in alignment with central guidance on talent-recruitment work and also adapt to the needs of the various Chinese Government organs establishing them. They’re run by overseas organisations, such as community associations, and are a key part of the CCP’s little-understood talent-recruitment infrastructure.
The stations work on behalf of the Chinese Government to spot and pursue talent abroad. Their importance is reflected in the fact that research for this report has uncovered 600 stations spread across technologically advanced countries (Figure 4).48 The increasingly covert nature of talent recruitment efforts means on-the-ground measures such as talent-recruitment stations should become more important.
The highest number of stations (146) was found in the United States. However, Germany, Australia, the United Kingdom, Canada, Japan, France and Singapore also each had many stations. This underscores the global reach of China’s talent-recruitment efforts and the high level of recruitment activity in those countries.
Figure 4: The top 10 countries hosting identified talent-recruitment stations
The stations often don’t have dedicated offices or staff. Instead, they’re contracted to local professional, community, student and business organisations, such as the Federation of Chinese Professionals in Europe.49 Such organisations already have established links inside Chinese communities and receive payments in return for spotting and recruiting talent, promoting research collaboration and hosting official delegations from China. The organisations are often linked to the CCP’s united front system and may be involved in mobilising their members to serve the party’s goals—whether cultural, political or technological. In at least two cases, talent-recruitment stations have been linked to alleged economic espionage.
Talent-recruitment stations have been established since at least 2006, and the number has grown substantially since 2015.50 The recent expansion may be related to policies associated with the 13th Five-Year Plan (2016–2020) that advocated strengthening talent-recruitment work ‘centred on important national needs’.51 Of the 600 stations identified in this report, more than 115 were established in 2018 alone (Figure 5).52
Figure 5: Talent recruitment stations established each year, 2008 to 2018
Note: Only stations with verified establishment dates are included.
Politics and talent recruitment intersecting in Canada
In July 2016, the Fujian Provincial Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, part of the united front system, sent representatives, including its director (pictured first from left in Figure 6), around the world to establish talent-recruitment stations.53 Four were established in Canada. John McCallum, a Canadian politician who resigned as ambassador to China in 2019 after urging the government to release Huawei CFO Meng Wanzhou, was pictured (second from right) at the opening of a station run by the Min Business Association of Canada (加拿大闽商总会).54 The association’s chairman, Wei Chengyi (魏成义, first from right), is a member of several organisations run by the UFWD in China and has been accused of running a lobbying group for the Chinese Consulate in Toronto.55
Figure 6: The opening ceremony
Source: ‘Fujian Overseas Chinese Affairs Office’s first batch of four overseas talent recruitment sites landed in Canada’, fjsen.com, 21 July 2016, online.
We obtained several talent-recruitment station contracts, contract templates and regulations that shine a light on the stations’ operations (Figure 7). They reveal that organisations hosting stations are paid an operating fee, receive bonuses for every individual they recruit and are often required to recruit a minimum number of people each year. Those organisations are also collecting data on foreign scientists and research projects. They organise talent-recruitment events, host and arrange visiting Chinese Government delegations and prepare trips to China for prospective recruits.56
Figure 7: A talent recruitment contract signed between the Human Resources and Social Security Bureau of Qingrong District in Chengdu and a Sino-German talent-exchange association
Source: ‘About this overseas talent workstation’, German-Chinese Senior Talent Exchange and Economic and Trade Cooperation Promotion Association, 12 July 2017, online.
Organisations running recruitment stations can receive as much as ¥200,000 (A$40,000) for each individual they recruit. In addition, they’re paid as much as ¥150,000 (A$30,000) a year for general operating costs.57
CCP talent-recruitment agencies gather large amounts of data on overseas scientists, and overseas talent-recruitment stations may be involved in this information-gathering work. Domestically, the Thousand Talents Think Tank (千人智库), which is affiliated with the UFWD, claims to hold data on 12 million overseas scientists, including 2.2 million ethnic Chinese scientists and engineers.58 In 2017, a Chinese think tank produced a database of 6.5 million scientists around the world, including 440,000 AI scientists, as a ‘treasure map’ for China’s development of AI technology and a resource for talent recruitment.59 Abroad, recruitment stations set up by Tianjin City are instructed to ‘grasp information on over 100 high-level talents and an equivalent amount of innovation projects’.60 Qingdao City’s overseas stations are required to collect and annually update data on at least 50 individuals at the level of ‘associate professor, researcher or company manager’ or higher.61 The Zhuhai City Association for Science and Technology tasks its overseas stations with ‘collecting information on overseas science and technology talents, technologies and projects through various channels’.62
Information about overseas technologies and scientists is used for targeted recruitment work that reflects the technological needs of Chinese institutions. For example, Shandong University’s overseas recruitment stations recommend experts ‘on the basis of the university’s needs for development, gradually building a talent database and recommending high-level talents or teams to the university in targeted way’.63 The Guangzhou Development Zone ‘fully takes advantage of talent databases held by their overseas talent workstations … attracting talents to the zone for innovation and entrepreneurship through exchange events and talks’.64
However, the 600 stations identified in this report are probably only a portion of the total number of stations established by the CCP. The real number may be several hundred greater. For example, we identified 90 stations established by the Jiangsu Provincial Government or local governments in the province, yet in 2017 the province’s Overseas Chinese Affairs Office—only one of many agencies in the province establishing overseas recruitment stations—stated that it had already established 121 stations.65
One hundred and seventy-one identified stations were established by united front agencies such as overseas Chinese affairs offices. For many other stations, it’s unclear which part of the bureaucracy established them, so the real number of stations established by the united front system is probably much greater. Similarly, the Qingdao UFWD describes how the city’s Organisation Department produced regulations on overseas talent-recruitment stations and the UFWD advised on their implementation and encouraged united front system agencies to carry them out.66 Universities, party organisation departments, state human resources and social affairs bureaus, state-backed scientific associations and foreign experts affairs bureaus also establish overseas-recruitment stations. None of them is an intelligence agency, but the networks and collection requirements of stations mean they could benefit China’s intelligence agencies.
Overseas talent-recruitment stations are typically run by local organisations, which are contracted to operate them for a period of several years. The local groups include hometown associations, business associations, professional organisations, alumni associations, technology-transfer and education companies and Chinese students and scholars associations (CSSAs) (see box). Local host organisations have often been established with support from, or built close relationships with, agencies such as China’s State Administration for Foreign Experts Affairs and the UFWD.67 Overseas operations of Chinese companies reportedly also host talent-recruitment stations.68 In one case, a station was reportedly established in the University College Dublin Confucius Institute.69
Chinese students and scholars associations involved in running talent recruitment stations
US: Greater New York Fujian Students and Scholars Association, University of Washington CSSA, North American Chinese Student Association, UC Davis CSSA
Australia: Victoria CSSA, Western Australia CSSA, New South Wales CSSA
UK: United Kingdom CSSA
Switzerland: Geneva CSSA
Italy: Chinese Students and Scholars Union in Italy
Czech Republic: Czech CSSA
Ireland: CSSA Ireland
Hungary: All-Hungary CSSA
Provincial, municipal and district governments are responsible for most talent recruitment, yet their activities are rarely discussed. Qingdao city alone claims that it recruited 1,500 people through its recruitment stations between 2009 and 2014.70 Out of 600 recruitment stations identified in this research, only 20 were established by national organisations, such as the UFWD’s Western Returned Scholars Association (WRSA) and Overseas Chinese Affairs Office.
Similarly, over 80% of talent-recruitment programs are run at the subnational level and may attract as many as seven times as many scientists as the national programs. Between 2008 and 2016, China’s Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security determined that roughly 53,900 scholars had been recruited from abroad by local governments. More than 7,000 scholars were recruited through the Thousand Talents Plan and Hundred Talents Plan (another national talent-recruitment program) over the same period.71
Case study: Zhejiang’s recruitment work in the United Kingdom
A 2018 CCP report on Zhejiang Province’s overseas talent-recruitment work mentioned that it had established 31 overseas recruitment stations. According to the report, Brunel University Professor Zhao Hua (赵华) from the UK is one of the scientists recruited through their efforts.72 Zhao is an expert in internal combustion engines who was recruited to Zhejiang Painier Technology (浙江 派尼尔科技公司), which produces ‘military and civilian-use high-powered outboard engines’.73
The partnership between Zhao and Zhejiang Painier Technology was formed with the help of a talent-recruitment station and reportedly attracted Ұ300 million (A$60 million) in investment.74 The Zhejiang UK Association (英国浙江联谊会) runs as many as four talent-recruitment stations and has recruited more than 100 experts for Zhejiang Province or cities in the province.75 They include a station for Jinhua, the city where Zhejiang Painier Technology is based, so it could have been the organisation that recruited Professor Zhao.76
The Zhejiang UK Association’s founding president is Lady Bates (or Li Xuelin, 李雪琳), the wife of Lord Bates, Minister of State for International Development from 2016 until January 2019.77 Accompanied by her husband, Lady Bates represented the association at the establishment of a recruitment station for Zhejiang Province’s Jinhua city in 2013 (Figure 8).78 She was a non-voting delegate to the peak meeting place of the CCP-led United Front—the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC)—and is a member of the UFWD-run China Overseas Friendship Association.79
Figure 8: Lord (first row, second from right) and Lady Bates (first row, centre)
Source: ‘英国浙江联谊会再次携手浙江——与金华市政府签署设立金华英国工作站协议’ [British Zhejiang Friendship Association joins hands with Zhejiang again—Signed an agreement with Jinhua Municipal Government for the establishment of Jinhua UK Workstation], ZJUKA, no date, online.
Counsellor Li Hui (李辉), a senior united front official from the Chinese Embassy in London, praised the association at the station’s founding.80 In particular, he noted Lady Bates’s use of her personal connections to arrange for the signing ceremony to be held in the Palace of Westminster.81
Talent-recruitment stations help arrange visits by Chinese delegations. For example, the Australian alumni association of Northwestern Polytechnical University (NWPU) became a recruitment station for the university and Xi’an City, where the university is located, in 2018.82 It arranged meetings between NWPU representatives and leading Australian-Chinese scientists and helped the university sign partnerships with them. Within a month, it claimed to have introduced five professors from universities in Melbourne to NWPU, although it’s unclear how many of them were eventually recruited by the university.83 NWPU specialises in aviation, space and naval technology as one of China’s ‘Seven Sons of National Defence’—the country’s leading defence universities.84 It’s been implicated in an effort to illegally export equipment for antisubmarine warfare from the US.85
Overseas talent-recruitment organisations also run competitions and recruitment events for the Chinese Government. For example, in 2017, the UFWD’s WRSA held competitions around the world, including in Paris, Sydney, London and San Francisco, in which scientists pitched projects in the hope of receiving funding from and appointments in China. The events were held with the help of 29 European, Singaporean, Japanese, Australian and North American united front groups for scientists.86 Organisations including the University of Technology Sydney CSSA and the Federation of Chinese Scholars in Australia (全澳华人专家学者联合会)—a peak body for Chinese-Australian professional associations that was set up under the Chinese Embassy’s guidance—have partnered with the Chinese Government to hold recruitment competitions tied to the Thousand Talents Plan.87 As described below, CSSAs have run recruitment events for Chinese military institutions and state-owned defence companies.
Talent recruitment in Japan
The All-Japan Federation of Overseas Chinese Professionals (中国留日同学会) is the leading united front group for ethnic Chinese scientists and engineers in Japan. It describes itself as having been established in 1998 under the direction of the UFWD and the UFWD’s WRSA, which is a dedicated body used by the department to interact with and influence scholars with overseas connections.88
Every president of the federation has also served as a council member of the WRSA or the China Overseas Friendship Association, which is another UFWD-run body.89 It runs at least eight talent-recruitment stations—organising talent-recruitment events in Japan and bringing scientists to talent-recruitment expos in China—and reportedly recruited 30 scientists for Fujian Province alone.90 Despite its involvement in the CCP’s technology-transfer efforts, it has partnered with the Japan Science and Technology Agency to run events.91 Former prime minister Hatoyama Yukio (鸠山由纪夫) attended the opening of a WRSA overseas liaison workstation run by the group—the first established by the WRSA (Figure 9).92
Figure 9: Former Japanese prime minister Hatoyama Yukio at the opening of a WRSA workstation
While raw numbers of recruited scientists are occasionally published, specific examples of scientists recruited by individual stations are difficult to find. In 2018, Weihai, a city in Shandong Province, released the names of 25 scientists recruited through stations in Japan and Eastern Europe.93 Among the recruits were medical researchers and AI specialists, including a Ukrainian scientist specialising in unmanned aerial vehicles who was recruited by Harbin Institute of Technology—one of China’s leading defence research universities.94
Case study: The Changzhou UFWD’s overseas network
The UFWD of Changzhou, a city between Shanghai and Nanjing, has established talent-recruitment stations around the world. The UFWD set up the stations alongside its establishment of hometown associations for ethnic Chinese in foreign countries. This illustrates the united front system’s integration of technology-transfer efforts and political and community influence work.
In October 2014, a delegation led by the Changzhou UFWD head Zhang Yue (张跃) travelled to Birmingham to oversee the founding of the UK Changzhou Association (英国常州联谊会). Zhang and the president of the UK Promotion of China Re-unification Society (全英华人华侨中国统一促进会) were appointed as the association’s honorary presidents.95 A united front official posted to the PRC Embassy in London also attended the event.96
The association immediately became an overseas talent-recruitment station for Changzhou and a branch of the Changzhou Overseas Friendship Association, which is headed by a leader of the Changzhou UFWD.97 According to a CCP media outlet, the association ‘is a window for external propaganda for Changzhou and a platform for talent recruitment’ (Figure 10).98
Figure 10: A plaque awarded by the Changzhou City Talent Work Leading Small Group Office to its ‘UK talent recruitment and knowledge introduction workstation’ in 2014
Three days later, the Changzhou UFWD delegation appeared in Paris for the founding of the France Changzhou Association (法国常州联谊会). Again, the Changzhou UFWD head was made honorary president and the association became a talent-recruitment station and a branch of the Changzhou Overseas Friendship Association. CCP media described it as ‘the second overseas work platform established by Changzhou’ under the leadership of Changzhou’s Overseas Chinese Federation, which is a united front agency.99
As detailed in a report published by the province’s overseas Chinese federation, these activities were part of the Changzhou united front system’s strategy of ‘actively guiding the construction of foreign overseas Chinese associations’.100 By 2018, when the report was published, the city had established associations in Australia, Canada, Singapore, the US and Hong Kong and was in the middle of establishing one in Macau. The founding of the Australian association was attended by a senior Changzhou UFWD official, Victorian Legislative Assembly member Hong Lim and Australian Chinese-language media mogul Tommy Jiang (姜兆庆).101
Economic espionage
The following two case studies demonstrate how talent-recruitment stations and their hosting organisations have been implicated in economic espionage and are often closely linked to the CCP’s united front system.
Case study: Cao Guangzhi
In March 2019, Tesla sued its former employee Cao Guangzhi (曹光植, Figure 11), alleging that he stole source code for its Autopilot features before taking it to a rival start-up, China’s Xiaopeng Motors.102
In July, he admitted to uploading the source code to his iCloud account but denies stealing any information.103 Tesla calls Autopilot the ‘crown jewel’ of its intellectual property portfolio and claims to have spent hundreds of millions of dollars over five years to develop it.104 Additional research on the subject of this ongoing legal case shows a pattern of cooperation between Cao and the CCP’s united front system on talent-recruitment work dating back to nearly a decade before the lawsuit.
Figure 11: Cao Guangzhi (far left) with other co-founders of the Association of Wenzhou PhDs USA
Source: ‘全美温州博士协会 “藏龙卧虎”,有古根海姆奖得主、苹果谷歌工程师···’ [The ‘Hidden Dragon and Crouching Tiger’ of the Wenzhou Doctors Association of the US; there are Guggenheim Award winners, Apple Google engineers…], WZRB, 14 April 2017, online.
When Cao submitted his doctoral thesis to Purdue University in 2009, he and three friends established the Association of Wenzhou PhDs USA (全美温州博士协会).105 All four hail from Wenzhou, a city south of Shanghai known for the hundreds of renowned mathematicians who were born there.106 From its inception, the association has worked closely with the PRC Government. A report from Wenzhou’s local newspaper claims that the Wenzhou Science and Technology Bureau, Overseas Chinese Affairs Office and Overseas Chinese Federation gave the group a list of US-based PhD students and graduates from the town, whom they then recruited as members.107 The head of the Wenzhou UFWD praised the association during a 2010 trip to America as ‘the first of its kind and highly significant’.108
The Association of Wenzhou PhDs USA carries out talent recruitment on behalf of the CCP. The year after its establishment, it signed an agreement with the UFWD of a county in Wenzhou to run a talent-recruitment station that gathers information on overseas scientists and carries out recruitment work.109 That year, it also arranged for 13 of its members to visit Wenzhou for meetings with talent-recruitment officials from organisations such as the local foreign experts affairs bureau 110 and with representatives of local companies. Several of the members also brought their research with them, presenting technologies such as a multispectral imaging tool.111
Within a few years of its founding, the association had built up a small but elite group of more than 100 members. By 2017, its members reportedly included Lin Jianhai (林建海), the Wenzhou-born secretary of the International Monetary Fund; engineers from Google, Apple, Amazon, Motorola and IBM; scholars at Harvard and Yale; and six US government employees.112 At least one of its members became a Zhejiang Province Thousand Talents Plan scholar through the group’s recommendation.113 It also helped Wenzhou University recruit a materials scientist from the US Government’s Argonne National Laboratory.114
Case study: Yang Chunlai
The case of Yang Chunlai (杨春来) offers a window into the overlap of the united front system and economic espionage. Yang was a computer programmer at CME Group, which manages derivatives and futures exchanges such as the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. Employed at CME Group since 2000, he was arrested by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) in July 2011.115 In 2015, he pleaded guilty to trade secrets theft for stealing CME Group source code in a scheme to set up a futures exchange company in China. He was sentenced to four years’ probation.116
Before his arrest, Yang played a central role in a united front group that promotes talent recruitment by, and technology transfer to, China: the Association of Chinese-American Scientists and Engineers (ACSE, 旅美中国科学家工程师专业人士协会). From 2005 to 2007 he was the group’s president, and then its chairman to 2009.117
ACSE is one of several hundred groups for ethnic Chinese professionals that are closely linked to the CCP.118 ACSE and its leaders frequently met with PRC officials, particularly those from united front agencies such as the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office (OCAO),119 the CPPCC and the All-Chinese Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese. At one event, the future director of the OCAO, Xu Yousheng (许又声), told ACSE:
There are many ways to serve the nation; you don’t have to return to China and start an enterprise. You can also return to China to teach or introduce advanced foreign technology and experience—this is a very good way to serve China.120
Yang was appointed to the OCAO’s expert advisory committee in 2008.121 In 2010, he also spoke about ACSE’s close relationship with the UFWD-run WRSA.122
Further illustrating these linkages, Yang visited Beijing for a ‘young overseas Chinese leaders’ training course run by the OCAO in May 2006. Speaking to the People’s Daily during the course, Yang said, ‘It’s not that those who stay abroad don’t love China; it’s the opposite. The longer one stays in foreign lands, the greater one’s understanding of the depth of homesickness.’123 Yang also spoke of the sensitivity of source code used by companies, work on which doesn’t get outsourced. However, he hinted at his eventual theft of code by saying: ‘Of course, even with things the way they are, everyone is still looking for suitable entrepreneurial opportunities to return to China’.124
In 2009, an ‘entrepreneurial opportunity’ may have presented itself when ACSE hosted a talent-recruitment event by a delegation from the city of Zhangjiagang (张家港).125 At the event, which Yang attended (Figure 12), ACSE signed a cooperation agreement with Zhangjiagang to ‘jointly build a Sino-US exchange platform and contribute to the development of the homeland’—potentially indicating the establishment of a talent-recruitment station or a similar arrangement.126
Figure 12: Yang Chunlai (rear, second from right) at the signing ceremony for ACSE’s partnership with Zhangjiagang
Yang later wrote a letter to the OCAO proposing the establishment of an electronic trading company led by him in Zhangjiagang and asking for the office’s support.127 In mid-2010, he emailed CME Group trade secrets to officials in Zhangjiagang and started setting up a company in China. By December, he began surreptitiously downloading source code from CME Group onto a removable hard drive.128
Yang’s relationship with the OCAO probably facilitated and encouraged his attempt to steal trade secrets in order to establish a Chinese company that, according to his plea deal, would have become ‘a transfer station to China for advanced technologies companies around the world’.129
Yang’s activities appeared to go beyond promoting technology transfer; there are indications that he was also involved in political influence work. This reflects the united front system’s involvement in both technology transfer and political interference. At a 2007 OCAO-organised conference in Beijing, Yang said that he had been encouraged by CPPCC Vice Chairman and Zhi Gong Party Chairman Luo Haocai to actively participate in politics, which he described as ‘a whip telling overseas Chinese to integrate into mainstream society’. He added, ‘I estimate that [ACSE] can influence 500 votes’ in the 2008 US presidential election.130 Yang also befriended politicians, including one senator, who wrote a letter to the judge testifying to Yang’s good character.131 In his OCAO conference speech, he highlighted the appointment of Elaine Chao as US Secretary of Labor and her attendance at ACSE events.132
Talent recruitment and the Chinese military
Talent recruitment is also being directly carried out by the Chinese military. For example, the National University of Defense Technology (NUDT, the People’s Liberation Army’s premier science and technology university) has recruited at least four professors from abroad, including one University of New South Wales supercomputer expert, using the Thousand Talents Plan.133
Outside of formal talent-recruitment programs, NUDT has given guest professorships to numerous overseas scientists, For instance, Gao Wei (高唯), an expert in materials science at New Zealand’s University of Auckland, was awarded a distinguished guest professorship at NUDT in May 2014.134
Gao is closely involved in CCP talent-recruitment efforts. In 2016, he joined Chengdu University as a selectee of the Sichuan Provincial Thousand Talents Plan.135 Just a month before joining NUDT, he signed a partnership with the State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs as president of the New Zealand Chinese Scientists Association (新西兰华人科学家协会).136 In 2018, the association agreed to run a talent-recruitment station for an industrial park in Shenzhen.137 He has reportedly served as a member of the overseas expert advisory committee to the united front system’s OCAO.138 In 2017, at one of the OCAO’s events, Gao expressed his desire to commercialise his research in China and said that ‘even though our bodies are overseas, we really wish to make our own contributions to [China’s] development’.139
The military’s recruitment of scientists is supported by the same network of overseas recruitment stations and CCP-linked organisations that are active in talent-recruitment work more generally.
Chinese military recruitment delegations have travelled around the world and worked with local united front groups to hold recruitment sessions. In 2014, the New South Wales Chinese Students and Scholars Association (NSW-CSSA, 新南威尔士州中国学生学者联谊会) held an overseas talent-recruitment event for NUDT and several military-linked civilian universities.140 The NSW-CSSA is a peak body for CSSAs and holds its annual general meetings in the Chinese Consulate in the presence of Chinese diplomats.141 In 2013, NUDT held a recruitment session in Zürich organised by the Chinese Association of Science and Technology in Switzerland (瑞士中国学人科技协会).142 A similar event was held in Madrid in 2016.143
The Chinese Academy of Engineering Physics (CAEP), which runs the military’s nuclear weapons program, is particularly active in recruiting overseas experts. By 2014, CAEP had recruited 57 scientists through the Thousand Talents Plan.144 It runs the Center for High Pressure Science and Technology Advanced Research in Beijing in part as a platform for recruiting overseas talent. The institute doesn’t mention its affiliation with CAEP on its English-language website, yet it’s run by a Taiwanese-American scientist who joined CAEP through the Thousand Talents Plan.145 So many scientists from the US’s Los Alamos National Laboratory (a nuclear weapons research facility) have been recruited to Chinese institutions that they’re reportedly known as the ‘Los Alamos club’.146
CAEP also holds overseas recruitment events. At a 2018 event in the UK, a CAEP representative noted the organisation’s intention to gain technology through talent recruitment, saying ‘our academy hopes that overseas students will bring some advanced technologies back, and join us to carry out research projects.’147
Chinese state-owned defence conglomerates are engaged in the same activities. China Electronics Technology Group Corporation (CETC), which specialises in developing military electronics, has been building its presence in Austria, where it opened the company’s European headquarters in 2016 and runs a joint laboratory with Graz University of Technology.148 As part of its expansion, it held a meeting of the European Overseas High-level Talent Association (欧洲海外高层次人才联谊会) in 2017 that was attended by dozens of scientists from across Europe. Later that year, CETC reportedly held similar meetings and recruitment sessions in Silicon Valley and Boston.149 In 2013, the head of CETC’s 38th Research Institute, which specialises in military-use electronics such as radar systems, visited Australia and met with a local united front group for scientists.150 Several members of the group from the University of Technology Sydney attended the meeting, and two years later the university signed a controversial $10 million partnership with CETC on technologies such as AI and big data.151
The Chinese Government’s primary manufacturer of ballistic missiles and satellites, China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation, has held recruitment sessions in the US and UK through the help of local CSSAs.152
In addition to traditional defence institutions (military institutes and defence companies), China’s civilian universities are increasingly involved in defence research and have also recruited large numbers of overseas scientists. ASPI ICPC’s China Defence Universities Tracker has catalogued and analysed the implementation of military–civil fusion in the university sector.153 The policy of military–civil fusion has led to the establishment of more than 160 defence laboratories in Chinese universities, and such defence links are particularly common among leading Chinese universities that attract the greatest share of talent-recruitment program participants.154 Many recruits end up working in defence laboratories or on defence projects.155
Recommendations
The CCP’s use of talent-recruitment activity as a conduit for non-transparent technology transfer presents a substantial challenge to governments and research institutions. Many of those activities fly under the radar of traditional counterintelligence work, yet they can develop into espionage, interference and illegal or unethical behaviour.
While this phenomenon may still be poorly understood by many governments and universities, it can often be addressed by better enforcement of existing regulations. Much of the misconduct associated with talent-recruitment programs breaches existing laws, contracts and institutional policies. The fact that it nonetheless occurs at high levels points to a failure of compliance and enforcement mechanisms across research institutions and relevant government agencies. Governments and research institutions should therefore emphasise the need to build an understanding of CCP talent-recruitment work. They must also ensure that they enforce existing policies, while updating them as necessary. This report recommends the introduction of new policies to promote transparency and accountability and help manage conflicts of interest.
For governments
We recommend that governments around the world pursue the following measures:
Task appropriate agencies to carry out a study of the extent and mechanisms of CCP talent-recruitment work, including any related misconduct, in their country.
Ensure that law enforcement and security agencies are resourced and encouraged to investigate and act on related cases of theft, fraud and espionage.
Explicitly prohibit government employees from joining foreign talent-recruitment programs.
Introduce clear disclosure requirements for foreign funding and appointments of recipients of government-funded grants and assessors of grant applications.
Ensure that funding agencies have effective mechanisms and resources to investigate compliance with grant agreements.
Ensure that recipients of government research funding are required to disclose relevant staff participation in foreign talent-recruitment programs.
Establish a public online database of all external funding received by public universities and their employees and require universities to submit and update data.
Establish a national research integrity office that oversees publicly funded research institutions, produces reports for the government and public on research integrity issues, manages the public database of external funding in universities, and carries out investigations into research integrity.
Brief universities and other research institutions about CCP talent-recruitment programs and any relevant government policies.
Develop recommendations for universities and other research institutions to tackle talent-recruitment activity. This can draw on the Guidelines to counter foreign interference in the Australian university sector developed by a joint government and university sector taskforce on foreign interference.156
Create an annual meeting of education, science and industry ministers from like-minded countries to deepen research collaboration within alliances, beyond existing military and intelligence research partnerships, and coordinate on issues such as technology and research security.
Increase funding for the university sector and priority research areas, such as artificial intelligence, quantum science and energy storage, perhaps as part of the cooperation proposed above.
Develop national strategies to commercialise research and build talent.
For research institutions
We recommend that research institutions such as universities pursue the following measures:
Carry out a comprehensive and independent audit of participation in CCP talent-recruitment programs by staff.
Ensure that there’s sufficient resourcing to implement and ensure compliance with policies on conflicts of interest, commercialisation, integrity and intellectual property.
Fully investigate cases of fraud, misconduct or nondisclosure. These investigations should determine why existing systems failed to prevent misconduct and then discuss the findings with relevant government agencies.
In conjunction with the government, brief staff on relevant policies on and precautions against CCP talent-recruitment programs.
Strengthen existing staff travel databases to automatically flag conflicts with grant commitments and contracts.
Update policies on intellectual property, commercialisation, research integrity, conflicts of interest and external appointments where necessary.
Participants in CCP talent-recruitment programs should be required to submit their contracts with the foreign institution (both English and Chinese versions) and fully disclose any remuneration.
Appendix
Two appendices accompany this report:
Appendix 1: Selected Chinese government talent-recruitment programs
Appendix 2: Cases and alleged cases of espionage, fraud and misconduct
I would like to thank Jichang Lulu, Lin Li, Elsa Kania, John Garnaut, Danielle Cave, Fergus Hanson, Michael Shoebridge and Peter Jennings for their support and feedback on this report. Lin Li helped compile the database of talent-recruitment stations. Alexandra Pascoe provided substantial help in researching and writing the case summaries in Appendix 2. Audrey Fritz and Emily Weinstein contributed valuable research on talent-recruitment programs. I would also like to thank anonymous peer reviewers who provided useful feedback on drafts of the report. The US Department of State provided ASPI with US$145.6k in funding, which was used towards this report.
What is ASPI?
The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non-partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally. ASPI’s sources of funding are identified in our Annual Report, online at www.aspi.org.au and in the acknowledgements section of individual publications. ASPI remains independent in the content of the research and in all editorial judgements.
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ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.
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First published August 2020. ISSN 2209-9689 (online) ISSN 2209-9670 (print)
Those conditions include lucrative wages, the creation of tailored venture capital firms and dedicated technology parks. For an influential and detailed study of the domestic infrastructure of PRC technology-transfer efforts, as well as much of its overseas activities through the State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs, in particular, see Bill Hannas, James Mulvenon, Anna Puglisi, Chinese industrial espionage: technology acquisition and military modernisation, Routledge, London and New York, 2013. ↩︎
See, for example, ‘致公党江苏省委首届“引凤工程”成果丰硕’ [Zhigong Party Jiangsu Committee’s first ‘Attracting Phoenixes Project’ has bountiful results], Jiangsu Committee of the Zhigong Party, 2 January 2011, online; Tang Jingli [唐景莉], ‘筑巢引凤聚才智 国际协同谋创新’ [Building nests to attract phoenixes and gather talents and knowledge, international collaboration for innovation], Ministry of Education, 5 April 2012, online; ‘“筑巢引凤”聚人才 浙江举行 “人才强企”推介会’ [Building nests to attract phoenixes and gather talents, Zhejiang holds the ‘strong talent enterprises’ promotional event], Zhejiang Online, 18 July 2019, online. ↩︎
See Alex Joske, The party speaks for you: foreign interference and the Chinese Communist Party’s united front system, ASPI, Canberra, June 2020, online. ↩︎
Xi Jinping [习近平], ‘习 近平:在欧 美同学会成立100周年庆祝大会上的讲话’ [Xi Jinping: Speech at the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Western Returned Scholars Association], Chinese Communist Party News, 21 October 2013, online. ↩︎
‘习近平:瞄准世界科技前沿引领科技发展方向抢占先机迎难而上建设世界科技强国’ [Xi Jinping: Set sights on the cutting-edge of world science and technology and guide the direction of technological development; seize this strategic opportunity and meet the challenge of building a strong country in terms of science and technology], Xinhua, 28 May 2018, online. ↩︎
Elsa Kania, ‘Made in China 2025, explained’, The Diplomat, 2 February 2019, online; PRC State Council, ‘中国制造2025’ [Made in China 2025], www.gov.cn, 8 May 2015, online; China’s National Medium-Long Term Science and Technology Development Plan (2006–2020) highlighted the goal of indigenous innovation: online . ↩︎
China’s 2017 State Council Plan on Building a National Technology Transfer System describes talent recruitment as a form of technology transfer. See State Council, ‘国家技术转移体系建设方案’ [Plan on Building a National Technology Transfer System], www.gov.cn, 15 September 2017, online. ↩︎
‘我国留学回国人员已达265.11万人’ [The number of Chinese returning from studying abroad has reached 2,651,100], Economic Daily, 12 April 2017, online. ↩︎
‘中国驻外使领馆:万流归海引人才 不遗余力架桥梁’ [PRC overseas mission: amid the flow of tens of thousands of talents returning to China, we do not spare energy in building bridges], www.gov.cn, 4 June 2014, online. ↩︎
These estimates are based on the conservative assumption that 60,000 individuals have been recruited from abroad through CCP talent-recruitment programs since 2008. Data on 3,500 participants in the Thousand Talents Plan was used to estimate the proportion recruited from each country. ↩︎
Clive Hamilton, Alex Joske, ‘United Front activities in Australia’, Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security, 2018, online; Ben Packham, ‘Security experts warn of military threat from Chinese marine project’, The Australian, 10 February 2020, online; Alex Joske, ‘The company with Aussie roots that’s helping build China’s surveillance state’, The Strategist, 26 August 2019, online; Ben Packham, ‘Professor, Chinese generals co-authored defence research’, The Australian, 31 July 2019, online; Geoff Wade, Twitter, 25 February 2020, online. ↩︎
Xi Jinping [习近平], ‘习近平:在欧美同学会成立100周年庆祝大会上的讲话’ [Xi Jinping: Speech at the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Western Returned Scholars Association]. ↩︎
Hannas et al., Chinese industrial espionage: technology acquisition and military modernization. ↩︎
‘中央引进国外智力领导小组始末’ [The beginning and end of the Central Leading Small Group for Introducing Foreign Expertise], Baicheng County Party Building Online, 30 September 2019, online. ↩︎
‘中国人才工作的新进展’ [New progress in China’s talent work], China Online, 28 June 2005, online. ↩︎
‘中共中央办公厅转发《中央人才工作协调小组关于实施海外高层次人才引进计划的意见》的通知’ [Notice on the CCP General Office circulating ‘Recommendations of the Central Talent Work Coordination Small Group on implementing the overseas high-level talent recruitment plan’], China Talent Online, 20 June 2012, online. ↩︎
‘2003年全国人才工作会议以来我国人才发展纪实’ [Recording the country’s talent development since the 2003 National Talent Work Conference], People’s Daily. Many of these events, such as Liaoning Province’s China Overseas Scholar Innovation Summit (中国海外学子创业周) and Guangzhou’s Convention on Exchange of Overseas Talents and Guangzhou, were first held before 2003. ‘2018中国海外人才交流大会开幕’ [2018 Convention on Exchange of Overseas Talents], Western Returned Scholars Association (WRSA), 24 December 2018, online ; ‘海外学子创业周凸显品牌效应’ [The Overseas Scholar Entrepreneurship Week has a clear brand effect], Sina, 26 May 2010, online. ↩︎
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/27152000/PB35-Hunting-the-Phoenix_banner-static.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-08-20 06:00:002025-03-27 15:21:10Hunting the phoenix
The Chinese Government is building the world’s largest police-run DNA database in close cooperation with key industry partners across the globe. Yet, unlike the managers of other forensic databases, Chinese authorities are deliberately enrolling tens of millions of people who have no history of serious criminal activity. Those individuals (including preschool-age children) have no control over how their samples are collected, stored and used. Nor do they have a clear understanding of the potential implications of DNA collection for them and their extended families.
Earlier Chinese Government DNA collection campaigns focused on Tibet and Xinjiang, but, beginning in late 2017, the Ministry of Public Security expanded the dragnet across China, targeting millions of men and boys with the aim to ‘comprehensively improve public security organs’ ability to solve cases, and manage and control society’.1 This program of mass DNA data collection violates Chinese domestic law and global human rights norms. And, when combined with other surveillance tools, it will increase the power of the Chinese state and further enable domestic repression in the name of stability maintenance and social control.
Numerous biotechnology companies are assisting the Chinese police in building this database and may find themselves complicit in these violations. They include multinational companies such as US-based Thermo Fisher Scientific and major Chinese companies like AGCU Scientific and Microread Genetics. All these companies have an ethical responsibility to ensure that their products and processes don’t violate the fundamental human rights and civil liberties of Chinese citizens.
What’s the solution?
The forensic use of DNA has the potential to solve crimes and save lives; yet it can also be misused and reinforce discriminatory law enforcement and authoritarian political control. The Chinese Government and police must end the compulsory collection of biological samples from individuals without records of serious criminal wrongdoing, destroy all samples already collected, and remove all DNA profiles not related to casework from police databases. China must enact stringent restrictions on the collection, storage, use and transfer of human genomic data.
The Chinese Government must also ensure that it adheres to the spirit of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (1966), the International Declaration on Human Genetic Data (2003), the Universal Declaration on the Human Genome and Human Rights (1997) and the Convention on the Rights of the Child (1989), as well as China’s own Criminal Law (2018). National and international legal experts have condemned previous efforts to enrol innocent civilians and children in forensic DNA databases, and the UN Special Rapporteur on the right to privacy should investigate the Chinese Government’s current collection program for any violations of international law and norms.2
Foreign governments must strengthen export controls on biotechnology and related intellectual property and research data that’s sold to or shared with the Chinese Government and its domestic public and private partners. Chinese and multinational companies should conduct due diligence and independent audits to ensure that their forensic DNA products and processes are not being used in ways that violate the human and civil rights of Chinese citizens.
Executive summary
Forensic DNA analysis has been a part of criminal investigations for more than three decades. Dozens of countries have searchable DNA databases that allow police to compare biological samples found during forensic investigations with profiles stored in those databases. China is no exception.
In 2003, China’s Ministry of Public Security began building its own forensic DNA database.3 Like other such databases, it contains samples taken from criminal offenders and suspects. However, since 2013, Chinese authorities have collected DNA samples from entire ethnic minority communities and ordinary citizens outside any criminal investigations and without proper informed consent. The Chinese Government’s genomic dataset likely contains more than 100 million profiles and possibly as many as 140 million, making it the world’s largest DNA database, and it continues to grow (see Appendix 3).
This ASPI report provides the first comprehensive analysis of the Chinese Government’s forensic DNA database and the close collaboration between Chinese and multinational companies and the Chinese police in the database’s construction. It draws on more than 700 open-source documents, including government bid tenders and procurement orders, public security bureaus’ Weibo and Weixin (WeChat) posts, domestic news coverage, social media posts, and corporate documents and promotional material (see Appendix 1). This report provides new evidence of how Xinjiang’s well-documented biosurveillance program is being rolled out across China, further deepening the Chinese Government’s control over society while violating the human and civil liberties of millions of the country’s citizens.
The indiscriminate collection of biometric data in China was first reported by Human Rights Watch.4
Beginning in 2013, state authorities obtained biometric samples from nearly the entire population of the Tibetan Autonomous Region (3 million residents) under the guise of free annual physical exams (Figure 1).5 In 2016, a similar program was launched in Xinjiang, where data from nearly all of the region’s 23 million residents was collected.6
Figure 1: Blood being collected as part of the free physical exam projects in Lhasa, Tibet Autonomous Region, May 2013, and Urumqi, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, February 2018
Sources: ‘Tibet: People’s physical examination to protect the health of the people on the plateau’ (西藏:全民体检为高原百姓保健康), Government of China Web (中国政府网), 15 May 2013, online; ‘Xinjiang National Health Checkup: Cover the last mile and benefit the furthest family’ (新疆全民健康体检:覆盖最后 一公里 惠及最远一家人), Xinhuanet (新华网), 9 February 2019, online.
In those minority regions, DNA collection was only one element of an ongoing multimodal biometric surveillance regime, which also includes high-definition photos, voiceprints, fingerprints and iris scans, which are then linked to personal files in police databases. In both Xinjiang and Tibet, authorities intentionally concealed the reasons for biometric collection.7 When that data was combined with an extensive system of security cameras8 and intrusive monitoring of local families,9 the Chinese Government was able to extend its control over these already tightly monitored communities.
Such programs, however, were only the beginning. Starting in late 2017, Chinese police expanded mass DNA data collection to the rest of the country. Yet in contrast to the wholesale approach adopted in Tibet and Xinjiang, authorities are using a more cost-efficient but equally powerful method: the collection of DNA samples from selected male citizens. This targeted approach gathers Y-STR data—the ‘short tandem repeat’ or unique DNA sequences that occur on the male (Y) chromosome.
When these samples are linked to multigenerational family trees created by the police, they have the potential to link any DNA sample from an unknown male back to a specific family and even to an individual man.
In this report, we document hundreds of police-led DNA data-collection sorties in 22 of China’s 31 administrative regions (excluding Hong Kong and Macau) and across more than a hundred municipalities between late 2017 and April 2020. Evidence suggests that, in some locations, blood collection has occurred in preschools (Figure 2) and even continued during the Covid-19 pandemic.10
Figure 2: One of more than 1,500 blood samples collected from kindergarten and elementary school students in Xiabaishi Township, Fujian Province, June 2019
Source: ‘Xiabaishi police energetically launch male ancestry inspection system development work’ (下白石派出所大力开展男性家族排查系统建设工作), Gugang Huangqi Weixin (古港黄崎威信), 4 June 2019, online.
The scale and nature of this program are astounding. We estimate that, since late 2017, authorities across China have sought to collect DNA samples from 5–10% of the country’s male population, or roughly 35–70 million people (Figure 3, and see Appendix 3). These ordinary citizens are powerless to refuse DNA collection and have no say over how their personal genomic data is used. The mass and compulsory collection of DNA from people outside criminal investigations violates Chinese domestic law and international norms governing the collection, use and storage of human genetic data.
Figure 3: Blood collection in Garze Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Sichuan Province, August 2019, and Binhe Township, Zhongwei, Ningxia Hui Autonomous Region, June 2018
Sources: ‘Batang police department continued to carry out information collection work of male family tree investigation system’ (巴塘县公安局持续开展男 性家族排查系统信息采集工作), Batang Police WeChat (巴塘县公安局微信), 20 August 2019, online; ‘Actively carry out DNA blood sample collection’ (积极 开展DNA血样采集工作), Binhe National Security Web (滨河治安国保), 13 June 2018, online.
The corporate world is profiting handsomely from this new surveillance program. Leading Chinese and multinational companies are providing the Chinese police with the equipment and intellectual property needed to collect, store and analyse the Y-STR samples. Key participants include Thermo Fisher Scientific, which is a US-headquartered biomedical and bioinformatics company, and dozens of Chinese companies, including AGCU Scientific, Forensic Genomics International, Microread Genetics and Highershine (see Appendix 4). Under China’s 2019 Regulations on Human Genetic Resource Management,11 if these companies partner with public security bureaus to develop new forensic products, any results and patents must be shared with the police. The continued sale of DNA profiling products and processes to China’s public security bureaus is inconsistent with claims that these companies have made to improve the quality of life and wellbeing of the communities they serve.
China’s national Y-STR database
In 2003, China’s Ministry of Public Security established a national DNA database for police forensic work.12 Over the following decade, police collected DNA samples during criminal investigations.
However, by the early 2010s, Chinese authorities began to engage in the mass collection of DNA from even wider groups. This included not only programs in Tibet and Xinjiang, which were the first to start, but also more targeted efforts elsewhere. Between 2014 and 2016, the Public Security Bureau of Henan Province collected DNA samples from 5.3 million men, or roughly 10% of the province’s male population.13 The province’s police saw the project as a massive improvement in their ability to conduct forensic investigations and extend state surveillance over even more of Henan’s population.
The success of that project encouraged its expansion nationwide and, on 9 November 2017, the Ministry of Public Security held a meeting in Henan’s provincial capital, Zhengzhou, calling for the construction of a nationwide Y-STR database (Figure 4).14
Figure 4: Ministry of Public Security Meeting on Promoting Nationwide Y-STR Database Construction, Zhengzhou, Henan Province, November 2017
Source: ‘The Criminal Investigation Bureau of the Chinese Academy of Sciences made an experienced introduction at the on-site promotion meeting for the construction of the Y-STR DNA database’ (厅刑侦局在全国Y-STR DNA数据库建设现场推进会上作经验介绍), Shaanxi Public Security Party Construction Youth League (陕西公安党建青联), 10 November 2017, online.
Data collection quickly expanded across the country. Between November 2017 and April 2020, documented instances of police-led Y-STR sample collection have been found in 22 of China’s 31 administrative regions (excluding Hong Kong and Macau) and in more than a hundred municipalities.15
Those are only the instances for which we have direct evidence. Given the national scope of this program, these figures are certainly an underestimate.
Unlike autosomal STR data, which is present in the DNA of both males and females, Y-STRs (the short tandem repeats on Y chromosomes) are found only in male DNA.16 Passed directly from father to son, they aren’t recombined with every successive generation. There’s therefore little variation in Y-STRs, apart from random mutations, and the Y-STR profile of a man will be nearly identical to that of his patrilineal male blood relatives. This means that forensic traces drawn from Y-STR data can point only to a genetically related group of men and not to an individual man.
However, when combined with accurate genealogical records (family trees) and powerful next-generation gene sequencers,17 Y-STR analysis can be a powerful tool. Because surnames are usually inherited from fathers, men who share a common surname are likely to share a common paternal ancestor and a common Y-STR profile.18 Likewise, if the Y-STR profiles of two men match, their surnames are likely to match, too. Therefore, if a Y-STR database contains a large representative sample of DNA profiles and corresponding family records, even an unknown male’s data can potentially be matched to a family name and even an individual, so long as investigators have on file the Y-STR data of that male’s father, uncle or even third cousin (Figure 5).
Figure 5: Illustration of shared Y-STR profile among patrilineal male relatives (translated)
Source: ‘The “hero” behind the murder case of the girl from the Southern Medical University: What is the Y-STR family investigation technique?’ (南医大女生 被害案背后 “功臣”: Y-STR家系排查技术是什么), Youku Video Net (优酷影视网), 25 February 2020, online. Partially translated from Chinese by ASPI.
For the Chinese Government, Y-STR analysis presents a more cost-effective and efficient method of building a national genetic panopticon. Unlike in Tibet and Xinjiang, authorities don’t need to collect DNA samples from all Chinese citizens in order to dramatically increase their genomic surveillance capacity. Authorities in Henan achieved 98.71% genetic coverage of the province’s total male population by collecting Y-STR samples from 10% of the province’s men and developing family trees for nearly all of the province’s patrilineal families.19 Following a similar program nationally, Chinese authorities could achieve genetic coverage for nearly all men and boys in China.
This is highly disturbing. In China’s authoritarian one-party system, there’s no division between policing crime and suppressing political dissent. A Ministry of Public Security-run national database of Y-STR samples connected to detailed family records for each sample would have a chilling impact not only on dissidents, activists and members of ethnic and religious minorities, but on their extended family members as well.
Figure 6: Meeting on Y-STR database construction, Suide County, Shaanxi Province, March 2019
Source: Lu Fei (路飞), ‘The successful completion of the training and mobilisation meeting of the Suide County public security bureaus for work on building a male ancestry inspection system’ (绥德县公安局男性家族排查系统建设工作动员部署及应用培训会圆满完成), Meipian (美篇网), 28 March 2019, online.
The Chinese state has an extensive history of using threats and violence against the families of regime targets in order to stamp out opposition to the Communist Party. Leaked documents obtained by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists20 and The New York Times reveal that authorities in Xinjiang collect information on family members of detainees in the region’s re-education camps,21 and a detainee’s release is conditional upon the behaviour of their family members outside the camps.22 The repression of family members extends far beyond Xinjiang. Parents23 and children24 of prominent human rights lawyers, and the siblings of overseas government critics,25 are routinely detained and tortured by Chinese police.
By forcing a dissident’s family to pay the price for their relative’s activism, these tactics cruelly yet effectively increase the cost of resistance.26 A police-run Y-STR database containing biometric samples and detailed multigenerational genealogies from all of China’s patrilineal families is likely to increase state repression against the family members of dissidents and further undermine the civil and human rights of dissidents and minority communities.
Figure 7: Genealogical records collected from a single extended family, Hanjia Village, Liaoning Province, March 2018, and a meeting of police officers concerning family records in Weinan, Shaanxi Province, August 2018
Sources: ‘Wolong Police Station carrying out Y-bank construction’ (卧龙派出所深入开展Y库建设), Meipian (美篇网), 15 March 2018, online; ‘To implement the spirit of the Heyang meeting, the Huazhou District Public Security Bureau went to Fuping to learn the process of the construction of a male family investigation system’, (落实合阳会议精神,华州区公安局赴富平实地学习男性家族排查系统建设), Huazhou Criminal Investigation Bureau (华州刑侦), 10 August 2018, online.
We also know that Chinese researchers are increasingly interested in forensic DNA phenotyping. This computational analysis of DNA samples—also known as ‘biogeographic ancestry inferences’27—allows investigators to predict the biogeographical characteristics of an unknown sample, such as hair and eye colour, skin pigmentation, geographical location, and age. Chinese scientists have been at the forefront of these controversial methods,28 claiming to be able to identify whether a sample belongs to an ethnic Uyghur or a Tibetan, among other ethnic groups.29 Scientists have warned about the potential for ethnic discrimination,30 yet Chinese scientists are using these methods to assist the Chinese police in targeting ethnic minority populations for greater surveillance,31 while Chinese and foreign companies are competing to provide the Chinese police with the tools to do their work.32
Figure 8: Blood collection in Xi’an, Shaanxi Province, April 2020, and Tongchuan, Shaanxi Province, February 2019
Sources: ‘The technical squadron of the Criminal Police Brigade of the Huyi Branch Bureau fully endeavoured to ensure the smooth progress of the construction of the Y library’ (鄠邑分局刑警大队技术中队全力保障Y库建设工作顺利进行), Meipian (美篇网), 2 April 2020, online; ‘Chen Jiashan Police Station catches up and surpasses, and completes the Y library information collection task’ (陈家山派出所追赶超越 全面完成Y库信息采集任务), Meipian (美篇网), 24 February 2019, online.
A national database containing the genetic information of tens of millions of ordinary Chinese citizens is a clear expansion of the already unchecked authority of the Chinese Government and its Ministry of Public Security. Chinese citizens are already subjected to extensive surveillance. Even beyond Tibet and Xinjiang, religious believers and citizen petitioners across China are added to police databases to track their movements,33 while surveillance cameras have expanded across the country’s rural and urban areas.34 The expansion of compulsory biometric data collection only increases the power of the Chinese state to undermine the human rights of its citizens.
Building comprehensive social control
A range of justifications have been provided by Chinese authorities for the mass collection of DNA samples from boys and men across China. Some of those reasons can be found in a notice released online on 1 April 2019 by the Public Security Bureau in Putian, Fujian Province:
Blood Collection Notice
In order to cooperate with the foundational investigative work of the seventh national census and the third generation digital ID cards, our district’s public security organs will on the basis of earlier village ancestral genealogical charts, select a representative group of men from whom to collect blood samples.
This work will not only help carry on and enhance the genealogical culture of the Chinese people, but will also effectively prevent children and the elderly from going missing, assist in the speedy identification of missing people during various kinds of disasters, help police crack cases, and to the greatest extent retrieve that which is lost for the masses. This is a great undertaking that will benefit current and future generations, and we hope village residents will enthusiastically cooperate.35
From this and other similar notices found across the Chinese internet, it can be difficult to assess the primary motive behind this program. Yet there are clear indications that it is the forensic and social control applications of the program—commonly referred to as the construction of a ‘male ancestry inspection system’—which most interest authorities. An 18 November 2019 article from People’s Daily Hubei states:
The construction of a male ancestry investigation system is currently important work being carried out across the country by the Ministry of Public Security. Through foundational work such as illustrative mapping of male ancestral families, the extraction of biological specimens, and the collection of samples and building of databases, we will further understand and grasp the information of male individuals. In this way we will strengthen the use of male hereditary marker DNA technology, continue to increase the efficiency of the investigative screening of criminal offenders, comprehensively improve public security organs’ ability to solve cases, and manage and control society, and maximise the efficiency of criminal technologies to crack cases.36
At first glance, it might appear that Chinese police are engaged in the mass screening of local men as part of ongoing forensic investigations. So-called ‘DNA dragnets’ are rare but not unheard of: in 2012, Dutch police collected Y-STR data through cheek swabs from 6,600 male volunteers as part of an investigation into the 1999 rape and murder of a teenage girl,37 while Y-STR samples were collected from 16,000 men as part of a criminal investigation into the 2011 murder of an Italian teenager.38
Yet such mass screenings are highly controversial. Both the Forensic Genetics Policy Initiative39 and the Irish Council for Civil Liberties40 note that police pressure can transform the ‘voluntary’ submission of samples into compulsory acts, while the American Civil Liberties Union has condemned police-led DNA dragnets in the US as ‘a serious intrusion on personal privacy’.41 Best practices require that DNA samples collected in such mass screenings should be connected to a specific criminal investigation, provided only by volunteers in the geographically restricted area in which the offence took place, and be destroyed following the completion of the investigation.
The Chinese Government’s program of male DNA data collection violates all of those principles. In none of the hundreds of instances of police-led mass DNA collection-related work uncovered in our research is data collection described as part of an ongoing forensic investigation. Nor are any of the men or boys targeted for DNA collection identified as criminal suspects or as relatives of potential offenders. Finally, China’s authoritarian political system makes refusing police requests for DNA samples impossible.
Figure 9: Blood collection in Kaifeng, Henan Province, August 2019 (cropped), and Ordos, Inner Mongolia, October 2018 (still image from video)
Sources: ‘Xinghua Camp has taken several measures to complete the Y-DNA blood collection task’ (杏花营所多项举措完成DNAY库采血任务), Meipian (美篇 网), 14 August 2019, online; ‘Albas police station actively carries out blood collection work of Y library construction’ (阿尔巴斯派出所积极开展Y库建设采血 工作), Meipian (美篇网), 24 October 2018, online.
Instead, the Chinese Government’s national Y-STR database appears to be part of larger efforts to deepen comprehensive social control and develop multimodal biometric profiles of individual citizens.
Those profiles would allow state security agents to link personal information to biometric profiles, including DNA samples, retinal scans, fingerprints and vocal recordings.42 When completed, such a system could allow Chinese police to connect biometric data from any unknown sample to identifying personal information.
As in the earlier campaigns in Tibet and Xinjiang, DNA collection occurs in a range of places, including private homes,43 schools,44 streets,45 shops46 and village offices47 (see Appendix 2 for a full description of the collection process). Unlike in those two regions, the current program seems aimed at all Chinese men and boys, irrespective of ethnicity or religious faith. Yet there’s evidence that in one case police targeted ethnic Hui Muslims at a local cultural event, in a possible extension of the anti-Muslim campaign that began in Xinjiang (Figure 10).
Figure 10: DNA sample collection in a private residence in Jinhua, Zhejiang Province, September 2018, and at a Hui ethnic minority community centre in Shiyan, Hubei Province, October 2019
Sources: ‘The Baima Police Station of the County Public Security Bureau went to the jurisdiction to carry out blood collection work’ (县公安局白马派出所到 辖区开展血液采集工作), Pujiang County Public Security Bureau (浦江县公安局), 28 September 2018, online; ‘The Hubeikou Police presented safety lectures to the Hui ethnic people on the spot and collected male blood samples during the holy Ramadan festival of the Hui ethnic people’ (湖北口派出所利用回族 群众圣纪节日,给到场回族群众做法制安全讲座,并采集男性血样), Hexie Hubeikou Microblog (和谐湖北口微博), 10 October 2019, online.
The scale of data collection is enormous. Tens of thousands of DNA samples have been collected in single localities. In Tunliu County in Chanzhi, Shanxi Province, local authorities recommended collecting blood samples from 36,000 men,48 or roughly 26% of the county’s male residents; in Laoting County in Tangshan, Hebei Province, 56,068 samples were recommended for collection from the county’s 320,144 men;49 and an invitation for bids for the construction of a Y-STR database for the Xian’an District of Xianning, Hubei Province, states that 40,000 blood samples were collected from the district’s roughly 300,000 male residents.50 These figures alone—a mere fraction of the total size of the Chinese Government’s current DNA collection program—represent some of the largest targeted DNA dragnets in police history.
More disturbing still is the compulsory collection of DNA samples from children (Figure 11).51 Unconnected to any criminal investigation, police have collected blood samples from students at schools across China, including in Shaanxi,52 Sichuan,53 Jiangxi,54 Hubei,55 Fujian,56 and Anhui.57 In a single township in Fujian, more than 1,500 blood samples were taken from students at local kindergartens and elementary schools.58 In some cases, teachers have been enlisted to assist in DNA collection.59
Figure 11: Collecting blood samples from students, Poyang County, Jiangxi Province, November 2018, and Yunxi County, Hubei Province, March 2019
Sources: ‘Actively cooperate with students in collecting DNA samples’ (积极配合做好学生DNA样本信息采集工作), Dongxi Primary School Web (东溪小学王 网), 14 November 2018, online; ‘Safety management: Nine-year standard school in Shangjin Town actively cooperates with DNA information collection’ (安 全管理:上津镇九年一贯制学校积极配合做好DNA信息采集工作), Nine-year Standard School in Shangjin Town WeChat account (上津镇九年一贯制学校), 22 March 2019, online.
These accounts are in keeping with a 2017 Wall Street Journal investigation that found that police in rural Qianwei, Sichuan Province, collected DNA samples from male schoolchildren without explanation (Figure 12).60 This is a clear violation of Article 16 of the UN’s Convention on the Rights of the Child (to which China is a signatory) against the ‘arbitrary or unlawful interference with [a child’s] privacy’61 and an abuse of the authority police have over vulnerable adolescents.
Figure 12: Police-led DNA collection from middle and elementary school students in Shifan County, Sichuan Province, September 2019, and in Hanzhong County, Shaanxi Province, October 2019
Sources: ‘Shigu Junior High School actively cooperates with the public security police to do a good job of collecting DNA samples from teenagers’ (师古初中 积极配合公安民警做好青少年DNA样本采集工作), Shifang City Government Web (什邡市人民政府), 12 September 2019, online; ‘This elementary school in Nanzheng District has launched the collection of student DNA samples’ (南郑区这个小学,开展了学生DNA样本采集), Eastday (东方咨询), 12 October 2019, online.
While DNA samples are taken from men and boys outside of a police investigation, data samples are stored permanently in the Ministry of Public Security’s National Public Security Organ DNA Database (Figure 13).62
Figure 13: National Public Security Organ DNA Database screenshot (cropped)
Source: ‘Public Security Organ DNA Database Application System’ (公安机关DNA数据库应用系统), Beijing Haixin Kejin High-Tech Co. Ltd (北京海鑫科金高 科技股份有限公司), online.
Like the FBI’s Combined DNA Index System (CODIS) in the US,63 China’s national database permits DNA samples collected by police to be compared with samples stored in hundreds of local and provincial databases across the country. This database also contains additional core STR loci (locations on a chromosome) for enhanced discriminatory capacity tailored to the ethnic make-up of China’s population.64
The Chinese Government’s DNA database feeds into a constantly evolving program of state surveillance under the banner of the Golden Shield Project, which is led by the Ministry of Public Security. The project seeks to make the personal information of millions of Chinese citizens, including forensic and personal data, available to local police officers nationwide.65 According to the website of Highershine Biological Information Technology Co. Ltd, a company that builds Y-STR databases for the Ministry of Public Security, its databases allow DNA data to be compared with non-genetic data on Chinese citizens contained in the national personal residence database system and the comprehensive police database system, which are both part of China’s Golden Shield Project (Figure 14).
Figure 14: Highershine’s National Public Security Organ Male Family Ancestry Investigation System
Source: ‘National Public Security Male Family Investigation System collects clients’ (全国公安男性家族排查系统采集用户端), China Highershine (北京海华鑫安生物), online.
Evidence already suggests that this new DNA database is being integrated with other forms of state surveillance and ‘stability maintenance’ social control operations.66 Local officials in Sichuan Province have linked Y-STR data collection to the Sharp Eyes Engineering Project,67 which is a national surveillance program aimed at expanding video monitoring across rural and remote areas.68 The Chinese company Anke Bioengineering has also spoken of building a ‘DNA Skynet’,69 in an apparent allusion to another national surveillance program.70
Corporate complicity
Chinese and multinational companies are working closely with the Chinese authorities to pioneer new, more sophisticated forms of genomic surveillance. According to Ping An Securities, China’s forensic DNA database market generates Ұ1 billion (US$140 million) in sales each year and is worth around Ұ10 billion (US$1.4 billion) in total.71 Competition is intense. While multinational companies currently dominate equipment sales, domestic players are making significant inroads, and biotechnology is listed as a critical sector in the Chinese Government’s Made in China 2025 strategy.72 More than two dozen Chinese and multinational companies are known to have supplied local authorities with Y-STR equipment and software (see Appendix 4).
One of the key domestic producers of Y-STR analysis kits is AGCU Scientech Inc.,73 which is a subsidiary of one of China’s largest and fastest growing biotech companies, Anhui Anke Bioengineering (Group) Co. Ltd.74 AGCU’s founder and Anke’s vice president is Dr Zheng Weiguo.75 After working for Thermo Fisher affiliate Applied Biosystems and other companies in the US, he was invited by the Ministry of Public Security to help develop the Chinese Government’s DNA database in 2004 and set up AGCU in the city of Wuxi under the Thousand Talents Program in 2006.76 He now serves as an expert judge for this Chinese Government talent recruitment program and has been awarded numerous state prizes for his scientific and patriotic contributions.77
AGCU has partnered with public security bureaus across China to apply for patents for Y-STR testing kits78 and in 2018 entered into an exclusive distribution partnership with US biotech company Verogen to sell Illumina’s next-generation DNA sequencers in China.79 AGCU is now actively promoting Illumina next-generation solutions at domestic and international trade fairs organised by the Ministry of Public Security (Figure 15).80
Figure 15: An AGCU engineer discusses Y-STR data systems at the Public Security Bureau of Pingxiang, Jiangxi Province, August 2018
Source: ‘Pingxiang City Public Security Bureau Male Family Investigation System Construction Promotion Conference and “FamilyCraftsman” training class’ (乡市公安机关男性家族排查系统建设工作推进会暨“家系工匠”培训班), Meipian (美篇网), 17 August 2018, online.
Other players include Forensic Genomics International,81 which is a fully owned subsidiary of the Beijing Genomic Institute Group—a company with an increasingly global footprint. In August 2018, Forensic Genomics International signed a strategic partnership agreement with the Public Security Bureau of Xi’an82 and has worked with other public security bureaus to build Y-STR databases as part of this national program.83 Another company is Microread Genetics Co. Ltd, a leading life sciences company with a joint genetic lab in Kazakhstan,84 which has won contracts to provide public security bureaus with Y-STR testing kits85 and database construction services.86
Beijing Hisign Technology Co. Ltd is also providing Y-STR database solutions to the Ministry of Public Security.87 Founded by former People’s Liberation Army member Liu Xiaochun,88 Hisign has developed a range of big-data biometric surveillance products used to collect, store and analyse finger (palm) patterns, facial scans and forensic DNA samples (Figure 16).89 Its Y-STR databases, which the company boasts can be ‘seamlessly connected with the DNA National Library’ and which can ‘provide intelligent family tree mapping’, are used by the public security bureaus of eight provinces, autonomous regions and directly administered cities.90
Figure 16: Hisign’s Y-STR database genealogical mapping function
A number of leading multinational companies are also providing DNA sequencers and other forensic technologies to public security bureaus across China. They include the China subsidiaries of Thermo Fisher Scientific and Eppendorf. Of those companies, Thermo Fisher’s role is most prominent.
This corporate giant has 5,000 employees in China, which contributed over 10% of the company’s US$25 billion in revenue in 2019.91
The company’s involvement in biometric surveillance in Xinjiang is well documented.92 But, while it has vowed to stop selling human identification products in the region,93 Thermo Fisher’s extensive involvement in the Ministry of Public Security’s national DNA database program is less well known.
One week before the launch of the national Y-STR data program, representatives from Thermo Fisher joined Chinese academics and police officials at a conference held by the Forensic Science Association of China in Chengdu, Sichuan, from 1 to 3 November 2017 (Figure 17).94 Recorded presentations from the conference give a clear sense of how closely Thermo Fisher has worked with the Ministry of Public Security to improve police collection of Y-STR data.
Figure 17: Presentation on forensic Y-STR kits designed for the Chinese market by a representative of Thermo Fisher, Chengdu, Sichuan Province, November 2017
Source: ‘Dr Zhong Chang’ (钟昌博士), Tencent Video (腾讯视频), 8 November 2017, online.
In a talk by Dr Zhong Chang, a researcher at Thermo Fisher, two of the company’s DNA kits—the VeriFiler Plus PCR amplification kit95 and Yfiler Platinum PCR amplification kit96—are described as having been created in direct response to the Ministry of Public Security’s need for enhanced discriminatory capacity tailored to the ethnic make-up of China’s population.97 More disturbingly, Thermo Fisher’s Huaxia PCR amplification kit was developed specifically to identify the genotypes of Uyghur, Tibetan and Hui ethnic minorities.98
Such kits have been instrumental to the current national Y-STR collection program aimed at ordinary men and boys, and numerous local public security bureaus have purchased Thermo Fisher Y-STR analysis kits as part of the construction of male ancestry investigation systems99 and Y-STR databases.100
Thermo Fisher may defend these sales, as it did to Human Rights Watch in 2017, on the grounds that it’s impossible ‘to monitor the use or application of all products’ that it makes.101 That may be true, but the company is clearly aware of how its products are being used, and it actively promotes its close collaboration with the Chinese police in its Chinese-language publicity material. In a profile of Gianluca Pettiti, Thermo Fisher’s former head of China operations and current President of Specialty Diagnostics,102 the company boasts: ‘In China, our company is providing immense technical support for the construction of the national DNA database, and has already helped to build the world’s largest DNA database.’103 Similarly, in 2018, the company’s Senior Director of Product Management, Lisa Calandro, discussed the ‘sinicizing’ of their forensic science product line for the Chinese market.104
Even if multinational companies object to the use of their genetic products as part of China’s surveillance regime, new legislation puts them at risk of acting as the handmaidens of repressive practices. Under China’s 2019 Regulations on Human Genetic Resource Management, any patents emerging from joint research projects must be shared between foreign-owned and Chinese entities.105
That means that, if Chinese or international biomedical companies partner with the public security bureaus, their research results and patents must be shared with the police. Furthermore, Article 16 of the Regulations grants the Chinese state sweeping powers to make use of DNA datasets created by public or private researchers for reasons of ‘public health, national security and the public interest’.
This means that any genetic data or processes in China may be used by Chinese authorities in ways these companies might have never intended.
Human rights violations
The Chinese Government’s genomic surveillance program is out of step with international human rights norms and best practices for the handling of human genetic material.106 Article 9 of the UN Universal Declaration on the Human Genome and Human Rights states that ‘limitations to the principles of consent and confidentiality may only be prescribed by law, for compelling reasons within the bounds of public international law and the international law of human rights’,107 while Article 12 of the UN International Declaration on Human Genetic Data states that the collection of genetic data in ‘civil, criminal or other legal proceedings’ should be ‘in accordance with domestic law consistent with the international law of human rights’.108
The Chinese Government’s DNA dragnet is also a clear violation of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights’ prohibition against ‘arbitrary or unlawful interference’ with a person’s privacy,109 and Article 16 of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (to which China is a signatory) against the ‘arbitrary or unlawful interference with [a child’s] privacy’.110
There are three areas in particular where this program appears to violate the human rights of Chinese citizens:
1. Lack of legal authority
The compulsory collection of biological samples among non-criminal offenders is not currently authorised under Chinese law. Article 132 of the revised 2018 Criminal Procedures Law only permits the collection of fingerprints, blood and urine samples from victims or suspects in criminal proceedings.111 Chinese authorities are aware of this issue. Chinese scholars and experts have warned about the lack of a clear legal basis for the collection of biometric samples by police outside criminal investigations,112 while others have cautioned about the potential for mass social unrest if compulsory collection should occur.113
Figure 18: Blood collection in Tongchuan, Shaanxi Province, February 2019 (cropped), and Xi’an, Shaanxi Province, January 2020
Sources: ‘Wangjiabian Police Station solidly carried out the security work of opening the school campus’ (王家砭派出所扎实开展开学校园安保执勤工作), Meipian (美篇网), 20 February 2019, online; ‘The Zoukou Police Station combined with the “Millions of Police Entering Tens of Millions Community” activity, went deep into the jurisdiction to carry out male “Y” blood sample collection work’ (零口派出所结合“百万警进千万家”活动,深入辖区开展男性“Y”系血样 采集工作), Meipian (美篇网), 14 January 2020, online.
The compulsory collection of DNA samples in China has sparked controversy in the past. The mass DNA screening of 3,600 male university students by police in 2013 following a spate of campus thefts was condemned as disproportionate and a violation of China’s Criminal Law.114 When discussing the creation of a nationwide Y-STR database in 2018, Pei Yu of the Hubei Police Academy warned that the ‘large-scale coercive collection of blood’ from ordinary civilians would violate both Chinese domestic law and international norms and suggested that this would be a major legal hurdle for Chinese authorities.115
Police notices and social media posts make it clear that the authorities are worried about potential pushback. Posters urge public cooperation, while police are told to carry out careful propaganda work aimed at dispelling any concerns about blood collection.116 Yet online posts suggest that some still question the legal basis of this program.117
2. Lack of informed consent
Outside of a criminal investigation, the voluntary submission of genetic samples requires prior, free and informed consent.118 The Chinese Government’s current program of compulsory Y-STR data collection isn’t part of any criminal investigation. Yet there’s no evidence in the sources reviewed for this report that Chinese authorities sought people’s consent before collecting Y-STR samples; nor are those who have given samples likely to be aware of how this program could subject them and their families to greater state surveillance and potential harm.
Figure 19: Blood collection in Shangrao, Jiangxi Province, October 2019 (cropped), and Lantian County, Xi’an, Shaanxi Province, January 2019
Sources: ‘Xianshan Primary School: District public security bureau visits the school to collect blood samples’ (仙山小学:区公安局到校进行血样采集), Meipian (美篇网), 1 November 2019, online; ‘(Striving for “Safety Vessel” Lantian Public Security in Action: Public Security police keeping the peace at the end of the Spring Festival’ (争创“平安鼎”蓝田公安在行动: 年终岁尾春节至,公安民警守平安), Meipian (美篇网), 30 January 2019, online.
Police provide contradictory explanations or speak in vague generalities about the purpose of the DNA collection program. A local resident, for example, expressed confusion about why men in his village were being targeted for blood collection in a 2019 social media post.119 Other posts express concern about being compelled to provide biometric samples. In a post made in late 2018, a netizen reported that men were being required to submit blood samples to police when applying to change their residency permits.120 Extensive police powers (both legal and extra-legal) make it virtually impossible for someone to refuse a request for biometric data in China.121
3. Lack of privacy
Despite some assurances that personal information will be protected,122 police are given a wide remit to make use of genetic resources. DNA collected in Tibet and Xinjiang as part of a free ‘physicals for all’ program was used to enhance biosurveillance over those ethnic minority populations, without the knowledge of those from whom DNA samples were taken.123 Legal experts and ordinary citizens have also expressed concerns about the lack of robust privacy protections when it comes to Y-STR sample collection.124
Figure 20: Blood collection in Yantai, Shandong Province, March 2019, and Yulin, Shaanxi Province, April 2019
Sources: ‘Xiaoyang Police Station of Haiyang City: Check and fill the vacancies for the construction of the Y library’ (海阳市小纪派出所: 对Y库建设工作进行 查漏补缺), Shuimu Web (水母网), 28 March 2019, online; ‘Recent work trends of Sanchuankou Police Station of Public Security Bureau of Zizhou County’ (子洲县公安局三川口派出所近期工作动态), Meipian (美篇网), 7 May 2019, online.
Online posts note that police blood collection outside of a criminal investigation constitutes an infringement on personal privacy.125 In one post, a father claimed that a police officer threatened to revoke his residency permit if he didn’t provide a Y-STR sample for his child.126 The father wrote that, when he expressed confusion about the purpose of the program, he was asked: ‘Don’t you trust the government?’
A nationwide program of male DNA collection not only represents a serious challenge to the privacy of those whose profiles are contained in the database, but also undermines the privacy of their relatives, who may be unaware that their personal information is contained in the family trees that police have created as part of this project.127
These concerns about legality, consent and privacy are all the more evident when the Chinese Government’s program is compared with two other national DNA collection programs: the UK’s National DNA Database, which until recently stored DNA samples taken from people merely suspected (but not convicted) of recordable offences, and a 2015 law in Kuwait, which would have required all residents and visitors to Kuwait to provide DNA samples to the government. Both programs were highly controversial.
In a 2008 ruling by the European Court of Human Rights, the UK’s program was found to have ‘fail[ed] to strike a fair balance between the competing public and private interests’.128 Likewise, the UN Human Rights Committee’s 2016 periodic review of Kuwait raised concerns about the ‘compulsory nature and the sweeping scope’ of the program, the ‘lack of clarity on whether necessary safeguards are in place to guarantee the confidentiality and prevent the arbitrary use of the DNA samples collected’ and ‘the absence of independent control’.129
In both cases, the collection regime was dramatically scaled back or scrapped altogether. In the UK, the European Court’s ruling led to the UK’s Protection of Freedoms Act in 2012130 and the subsequent destruction of 1.76 million DNA profiles taken from people innocent of any criminal offence.131 In the case of Kuwait, the law was eventually found to violate constitutional protections of personal liberty and privacy by the country’s supreme court in 2017.132
The criticisms leveled against the UK’s and Kuwait’s DNA programs could easily apply to the Chinese Government’s current campaign of mass DNA collection, but a similar outcome is highly unlikely. China lacks independent courts that can check the power of the Chinese Government, the Communist Party and domestic security forces.133 Nor has the Chinese Government been receptive to criticisms of earlier mass DNA collection programs made by international human rights organisations.134 Finally, China’s authoritarian political system lacks a free press, opposition political parties and a robust civil society that can openly challenge the legality of this program.135
Recommendations
DNA analysis is now considered the gold standard for police forensics. Recent innovations in DNA sequencing and big-data computing make the process of analysing biometric samples more efficient and cost-effective. Yet forensic DNA collection has also been linked to the abuse of police power,136 and even commercial genealogical websites can lead to the loss of genetic privacy for the relatives of those who have voluntarily uploaded their data.137 In order to defend against possible abuses, compulsory police collection and storage of biometric data must be strictly limited to those convicted of serious criminal wrongdoing.
As detailed in this report, there’s no evidence that Chinese authorities are adhering to these standards.
Unconstrained by any checks on the authority of its police, the Chinese Government’s police-run DNA database system is extending already pervasive surveillance over society, increasing discriminatory law enforcement practices and further undermining the human rights and civil liberties of Chinese citizens.
The tools of biometric surveillance and political repression first sharpened in Xinjiang and Tibet are now being exported to the rest of China.
In the light of our report, ASPI recommends as follows:
The Chinese Government should immediately cease the indiscriminate and compulsory collection of DNA samples from ordinary Chinese civilians, destroy any biological samples already collected, and remove the DNA profiles of people not convicted of serious criminal offences from its forensic databases.
The UN Special Rapporteur on the right to privacy should investigate possible human rights violations related to the Chinese Government’s DNA data collection program and broader programs of biosurveillance.
Governments and international organisations should consider tougher export controls on equipment and intellectual property related to forensic DNA collection, storage and analysis being sold in Chinese markets.
Biotechnology companies should ensure that their products and services adhere to international best practices and don’t contribute to human rights abuses in China, and must suspend sales, service and research collaborations with Chinese state authorities if and when violations are identified.
Appendix 1: Data sources
In chronicling the Chinese Government’s latest DNA dragnet, this report draws on more than 700 Chinese-language open-source documents that refer to the current program of Y-STR data collection, as well as related research on the forensic applications of Y-STR analysis in China and materials concerning China’s domestic forensic science market.
The sources listed in Table 1 don’t include the Chinese- and English-language sources we have cited concerning China’s broader systems of surveillance and governance, China’s earlier biometric data collection programs in Xinjiang and Tibet, or reports on DNA collection programs outside of China.
Table 1: List of primary data sources
Documented instances of police-led Y-STR data collection have been found in 22 of China’s 31 administrative regions (excluding Hong Kong and Macau),138 and in more than a hundred municipalities. It’s important to note that this total is likely to be an underestimate; instances of DNA collection may go unreported, and the true scale of the program is likely to be much greater. Data collection also appears to be continuing in some locations.
Appendix 2: How Y-STR samples are collected
The Chinese Government’s Y-STR data collection program appears to happen mostly in rural areas or townships and villages located on the periphery of cities. This may be because it is easier for police to produce accurate genealogies of patrilineal families and collect samples from multiple members of the same family in rural areas, where multiple generations of a single family are more likely to live in close proximity.139 Furthermore, many current urban residents are first- or second-generation migrants who can trace their ancestry back to extended families living in rural areas. Greater genetic coverage of Chinese men is more likely to be achieved by focusing on their ancestral families, rather than recent migrants to major cities. Finally, Chinese authorities may be focusing on rural areas because they believe their program will face less public scrutiny there than in more developed urban areas.
No matter where data collection occurs, this program is broken down into four stages:
1. Preparatory meetings
Local Y-STR data-collection work begins with meetings led by the public security bureaus where police officers and other government officials are introduced to the role Y-STR data collection can play in combating crime and strengthening ‘social management’ (Figure 21).140
Figure 21: Local officials meeting to discuss male ancestry inspection systems, Anlu, Hubei Province, September 2019, and Weinan, Shaanxi Province, August 2018
Sources: ‘Chendian Township held a training seminar on mobilisation of the male family tree investigation system’ (陈店乡举办男性家族排查系统建设工作 动员业务培训会), Anlu Government (安陆政府网), 3 September 2019, online; ‘Weinan Municipal Public Security Bureau’s male family investigation system construction site promotion meeting was successfully held in Heyang’ (渭南市公安局男性家族排查系统建设现场推进会在合阳圆满召开), Meipian (美篇 网), 9 August 2018, online.
During these meetings, officers are organised into subgroups responsible for particular datacollection-related tasks. Meetings end with the signing of letters of responsibility, which lay out the obligations government offices have for completing Y-STR data-collection work.
2. Creating family trees
The next step is creating family trees for local men and boys. Collecting accurate genealogical information on local patrilineal families is of vital importance. This information will be used to identify a representative sample of men and boys from whom to collect genetic data and, in the future, will allow police to connect Y-STR data from an unknown male to a particular patrilineal surname and all the men sharing that name.
To collect genealogical information on male family members, police officers visit individual families, often accompanied by village cadres.141 Through these visits, police try to map out family genealogies going back from five to eight generations (Figure 22).142
Figure 22: Collecting genealogical data by hand, Chaohu, Anhui Province, April 2018, and Jinan, Shandong Province, September 2018
Sources: ‘Huailin town carried out male family tree survey and mapping’ (槐林镇开展男性家族家系调查和图谱绘制工作), Chaohu Government (巢湖政 府网), 10 April 2018, online; ‘The Chengguan Office successfully completed the Y library information collection task’ (城关所圆满完成Y库信息采集任务) Chegguan Police Station (城关派出所), 29 September 2018, online.
A mock illustration of these family trees is found in a 21 August 2018 government notice on Y-STR data collection in Sui County, Hubei Province, where names, mobile numbers and ID card numbers are collected (Figure 23).
Figure 23: Mock genealogical chart, Sui County, Hubei Province
Source: ‘Notice of the County Government Office on printing and distributing the work plan for the construction of the “Y-STR” DNA database in Sui County’ (县人民政府办公室关于印发随县’Y-STR’DNA数据库建设工作方案的通知), Sui Country Government (随县政府网), 4 September 2018, online. This mock chart captures five generations of a single patrilineal family with the names, phone numbers and presumably state ID numbers to be recorded for each individual identified.
Family trees are first drawn by hand,143 and police officers and local officials work with members of targeted families to ensure accuracy (Figure 24).144 Not all local males are targeted, however. According to the same 2018 work notice from Sui County, only information on permanent residents in the rural or semi-rural counties, townships or ‘villages within cities’ of these municipalities is recorded.145
Figure 24: Completed family trees, Luliang, Shanxi Province, June 2018, and Baoji, Long County, Shaanxi Province, October 2018 (cropped)
Sources: ‘Lin County Public Security Bureau Y-STR DNA Family Investigation System Construction Database’ (临县公安局: Y—STR DNA家族排查系统建设数 据库), Meipian (美篇网), 26 June 2018, online; Caojiawan Police Station of Long County Public Security Bureau completed the first male family survey map (陇县公安局曹家湾派出所完成首张男性家族家系调查图谱), Meipian (美篇网), 10 October 2018, online.
After family trees are checked for errors, the finished charts are entered into computer databases using the commercially available genealogical mapping software ‘Ancestry Artisan’ (Figure 25).
Source: ‘Chengguan Police Station completed the construction of male Y DNA bank’ (城关派出所全面完成男性Y库建设工作), Nanyuan Police (南苑警务网), 8 August 2018, online.
3. Compulsory collection of blood samples
Based on the family trees, a non-random sample of local men is targeted for compulsory Y-STR data collection (Figure 26). Estimates for the proportion of local men targeted vary from roughly 8.1% in Dongsheng District, Lingqiu County, Shanxi Province146 and 9.6% in Ordos, Dongsheng District, Inner Mongolia,147 to 25.4% in Tongchuan, Yijun County, Shaanxi Province148 and 26.4% in Changzhi, Tunliu County, Shanxi Province.149
Figure 26: Blood collection in Tongchuan, Shaanxi Province, June 2019, and Zhangzhou, Fujian Province, April 2019
Sources: ‘Tongchuan police: Hongqiao Yuhua Police Station completed the annual DNA blood sample information collection task’ (铜川公安:虹桥玉华派出 所完成全年DNA血样信息采集任务), Hongqiao Yuhua Police Station (虹桥玉华派出所), 9 June 2018, online; “Changtai: Blood Collection Notice” (长泰:采血 通告), Soho (搜狐网), 20 April 2019, online.
Samples are taken in the form of blood via a pinprick to the finger,150 and blood is collected on a paper card, which is then inserted into an envelope (Figure 27). This method of sample collection allows large amounts of data to be collected in the absence of storage space.151
Figure 27: Blood collection cards and envelopes, Tongchuan, Shaanxi Province, June 2019 (cropped), and Xi’an, Zhouzhi County, Shaanxi Province, May 2019
Source: ‘Jiufeng has taken multiple measures, combined points with points, broken common rules, and promoted quickly to strive to complete the construction of male family trees as soon as possible’ (九峰所多策并举、点面结合、打破通例 、快速推动,争取早日全面完成男性家系建设工作), Meipian (美篇网), 24 May 2019, online.
In some cases, blood is collected from individuals in their community, as shown in a video from 17 May 2019 of a police officer in Anqing, Anhui Province, taking blood from an elderly man (Figure 28).
Figure 28: Screen capture taken from video of blood collection in Anqing, Anhui Province, May 2019
Source: ‘In order to build the Y-DNA bank and not affect the farming time of the masses, the auxiliary policemen from Liuping Police Station entered the field on 17 May to collect blood samples for the Y-DNA bank from the people in the jurisdiction and publicise safety precautions’, (为了Y库建设工作和不影响群 众农耕时间5月17日柳坪派出所民辅警走进田间地头,为辖区群众采集Y库血样和宣传安全防范), Susong Liuping Police (宿松柳坪派出所), video, 17 May 2019, online.
In other cases, samples are collected simultaneously from numerous men at a designated location.
A July 2019 video (possibly from Sichuan Province) shows dozens of men—many holding what appear to be copies of their family trees—having their blood taken by public security officers (Figure 29).
Figure 29: Screen capture taken from video of blood collection in Sichuan Province, July 2019 (cropped)
Source: ‘Rural: What are you doing together? It turns out collecting blood samples!’ (农村:大家围在一起干吗了,原来是在采集血样!), Tencent Video (腾讯视频), video, 15 July 2019, online.
Uniformed police officers aren’t the only ones who conduct blood collection. In a June 2019 video shot at a village government office in the Fuling District of Chongqing, local officials are seen recording identifying information for numerous men on sample collection envelopes before collecting blood samples (Figure 30).
Figure 30: Screen capture taken from video of blood collection in Fuling District, Chongqing Municipality, June 2019 (cropped)
Source: ‘The staff went to the village to collect DNA blood samples, which greatly conveniences the people’ (工作人员到村里面进行DNA血样采集,极大的 方便了人民群众), Haokan Video (好看视频), 11 June 2019, online.
According to the website of Bosun Life—a Beijing-based company that builds Y-STR databases—one person is selected for Y-STR collection out of a family of five to six, while two people are selected from a family of up to fifty.152
Figure 31: Blood collection in Ningde, Zhejiang Province, April 2019
Source: Nodded attention! Male family blood sample collection work started’ (点头人注意!男性家族血样采集工作开始了), Sohu (搜狐网),| 30 April 2019, online.
Local governments are under intense pressure to meet DNA sample-collection targets set by superiors higher up in the state, and there’s evidence that systems of rewards and punishments have been instituted to ensure that sample-collection quotas are met.153
4. Data sharing with public security bureaus
Once local blood collection is complete, data is entered into specialised police-run Y-STR databases (Figure 32). Numerous requests for tenders and procurement orders for the construction of Y-STR databases have been found for local public security bureaus across China.154
Figure 32: Data entry, Wulanhaote, Inner Mongolia, September 2019
Source: ‘Collection of blood samples from male families’ (男性家族血样采集工作), Meipian (美篇网), 17 September 2019, online.
In turn, these local databases are connected to a network of provincial Y-STR databases and the national forensic DNA database, as stated in government tenders (Figure 33).155
Figure 33: Data sharing between public security bureaus using Yingdi’s Y-STR database system (translated)
Source: ‘Solution pages of police equipment’ (解决方案列表), Yingdi (武汉英迪科技发展有限公司), online. Translated from Chinese by ASPI.
Appendix 3: Estimating the scale of Y-STR sample collection
While we know Y-STR samples have been collected from males across China, it’s difficult to determine how many boys and men in total have been targeted. However, a rough estimate can be produced.
This requires first calculating the size of the pool from which samples could be taken. The scale of the Henan Y-STR database gives us a good indication of the proportion of men and boys who may have been targeted. Between 2014 and 2016, 5.3 million Y-STR profiles were collected from a total male population of roughly 49.6 million, or roughly 10% of all males. This was believed to have given authorities nearly 98.71% coverage of the province’s male population.156
In some cases, precise figures indicating the scale of male data collection in particular localities are available. By comparing the total number of Y-STR samples collected to the population of local males (roughly estimated to be half the total local population), we’re able to estimate the percentage of men and boys from whom biometric data may have been taken (Table 2).
Table 2: Local data on Y-STR sample collection
Please download PDF for full source listing.
We know from government records that, in areas where Y-STR data collection has occurred, anywhere from roughly 8.1% to 26.4% of all males have been targeted. The wide variation in those figures may reflect efforts to collect more data than needed.
Government procurement orders can also be used to estimate the scale of Y-STR sample collection (Table 3). Some of those orders provide precise figures for the number of Y-STR sample-collection cards local authorities have purchased. By comparing the number of sample-collection cards to the local male population (roughly estimated to be half the total local population), we can estimate the percentage of local men who may have been targeted for DNA data collection.
Table 3: Government bid invitations and procurement orders for Y-STR blood sample collection cards
Please download PDF for full source listing.
From these records, we can estimate that local authorities have purchased enough Y-STR analysis kits to collect samples from anywhere between roughly 7.4% and 26.2% of all local males. The wide variation in these figures may again reflect efforts to collect more data than needed.
The large proportion of men and boys targeted for data collection in some localities may be offset by lower levels of data collection in other areas. We have also considered the possibility that in some areas of the country data collection might not be taking place. While we know that this is a nationwide campaign, we don’t yet have precise figures for the number of municipalities in which data collection has occurred. For example, mass Y-STR collection doesn’t so far seem to be taking place in first-tier cities such as Beijing or Shanghai.
Based on these considerations, and the scale of the earlier provincial Y-STR database built by the Henan Public Security Bureau,157 we therefore estimate that the Chinese Government may be seeking to collect Y-STR profiles from as many as one out of every 10 males in China.
The proportion of men and boys within individual families targeted for Y-STR sample collection also gives us clues about the possible scale of this program. There are indications that the authorities aim to collect samples from at least two men from every family of six to 50 people, and a further one or two samples from families of more than 50 members.158 It isn’t clear how rigorously police are adhering to these standards, but at a minimum this suggests that the Chinese Government aims to collect Y-STR samples from roughly five out of every 100 men.
We therefore conservatively estimate that authorities aim to collect DNA samples from around 5-10% of China’s total male population of roughly 700 million. Based on these calculations, a completed nationwide system of Y-STR databases will likely contain at least 35–70 million genomic profiles.
How do these tens of millions of Y-STR samples relate to the Chinese Government’s broader genomic surveillance capabilities? According to a report by the Chinese insurance company Ping An, in 2016 Chinese authorities possessed DNA records for 44.35 million people, including 40.7 million from forensic databases, 1.49 million from crime-scene databases, 594,000 from missing people databases, and 513,000 in so-called ‘base level’ DNA databases.159 To those numbers we can add the roughly 23 million profiles taken in Xinjiang and 3 million in Tibet, for a new total of roughly 70 million—a total slightly lower than the figure of 80 million cited in recent Chinese press reports160 but identical to that provided on the website for Hisign Technology.161
If we add the estimated 35–70 million Y-STR profiles to the 70 million profiles authorities already possess,162 the Chinese Government likely has 105–140 million profiles on file. That doesn’t include DNA profiles currently being enrolled in the ‘newborn genebank’ that is being trialed in the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region and Chongqing.163
Appendix 4: Companies participating in national Y-STR data collection
Table 4 lists Chinese and multinational companies that are known to provide the equipment, consumables, services and intellectual property used by the Ministry of Public Security and public security bureaus across China as part of the ongoing national program of Y-STR data collection.
Table 4: Chinese and multinational companies involved in the Y-STR data collection program
[[ Please download PDF for full source listing. ]]
The authors would like to thank Danielle Cave, Derek Congram, Victor Falkenheim, Fergus Hanson, William Goodwin, Bob McArthur, Yves Moreau, Kelsey Munro, Michael Shoebridge, Maya Wang and Sui-Lee Wee for valuable comments and suggestions with previous drafts of this report, and the ASPI team (including Tilla Hoja, Nathan Ruser and Lin Li) for research and production assistance with the report. ASPI is grateful to the Institute of War and Peace Reporting and the US State Department for supporting this research project.
What is ASPI?
The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.
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ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.
ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre has no core funder. Rather, it is supported by a mixed funding base that includes sponsorship, research and project support from across governments, industry and civil society.
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This report analyses a persistent, large-scale influence campaign linked to Chinese state actors on Twitter and Facebook.
This activity largely targeted Chinese-speaking audiences outside of the Chinese mainland (where Twitter is blocked) with the intention of influencing perceptions on key issues, including the Hong Kong protests, exiled Chinese billionaire Guo Wengui and, to a lesser extent Covid-19 and Taiwan.
Extrapolating from the takedown dataset, to which we had advanced access, given to us by Twitter, we have identified that this operation continues and has pivoted to try to weaponise the US Government’s response to current domestic protests and create the perception of a moral equivalence with the suppression of protests in Hong Kong.
Figure 1: Normalised topic distribution over time in the Twitter dataset
Our analysis includes a dataset of 23,750 Twitter accounts and 348,608 tweets that occurred from January 2018 to 17 April 2020 (Figure 1). Twitter has attributed this dataset to Chinese state-linked actors and has recently taken the accounts contained within it offline.
In addition to the Twitter dataset, we’ve also found dozens of Facebook accounts that we have high confidence form part of the same state-linked information operation. We’ve also independently discovered—and verified through Twitter—additional Twitter accounts that also form a part of this operation. This activity appears to be a continuation of the campaign targeting the Hong Kong protests, which ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre covered in the September 2019 report Tweeting through the Great Firewall and which had begun targeting critics of the Chinese regime in April 2017.
Analysing the dataset as a whole, we found that the posting patterns of tweets mapped cleanly to working hours at Beijing time (despite the fact that Twitter is blocked in mainland China). Posts spiked through 8 a.m.–5 p.m. working hours Monday to Friday and dropped off at weekends. Such a regimented posting pattern clearly suggests coordination and inauthenticity.
The main vector of dissemination was through images, many of which contained embedded Chinese-language text. The linguistic traits within the dataset suggest that audiences in Hong Kong were a primary target for this campaign, with the broader Chinese diaspora as a secondary audience.
There is little effort to cultivate rich, detailed personas that might be used to influence targeted networks; in fact, 78.5% of the accounts in Twitter’s takedown dataset have no followers at all.
There’s evidence that aged accounts—potentially purchased, hacked or stolen—are also a feature of the campaign. Here again, there’s little effort to disguise the incongruous nature of accounts (from Bangladesh, for example) posting propaganda inspired by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). While the takedown dataset contains many new and low-follower accounts, the operation targeted the aged accounts as the mechanism by which the campaign might gain traction in high-follower networks.
The operation has shown remarkable persistence to stay online in various forms since 2017, and its tenacity has allowed for shifts in tactics and the narrative focus as emerging events—including the Covid-19 pandemic and US protests in May and June 2020—have been incorporated into pro-Chinese government narratives.
Based on the data in the takedown dataset, while these efforts are sufficiently technically sophisticated to persist, they currently lack the linguistic and cultural refinement to drive engagement on Twitter through high-follower networks, and thus far have had relatively low impact on the platform. The operation’s targeting of higher value aged accounts as vehicles for amplifying reach, potentially through the influence-for-hire marketplace, is likely to have been a strategy to obfuscate the campaign’s state-sponsorship. This suggests that the operators lacked the confidence, capability and credibility to develop high-value personas on the platform. This mode of operation highlights the emerging nexus between state-linked propaganda and the internet’s public relations shadow economy, which offers state actors opportunities for outsourcing their disinformation propagation.
Similar studies support our report’s findings. In addition to our own previous work Tweeting through the Great Firewall, Graphika has undertaken two studies of a persistent campaign targeting the Hong Kong protests, Guo Wengui and other critics of the Chinese Government. Bellingcat has also previously reported on networks targeting Guo Wengui and the Hong Kong protest movement.
Google’s Threat Analysis Group noted that it had removed more than a thousand YouTube channels that were behaving in a coordinated manner and sharing content that aligned with Graphika’s findings.
This large-scale pivot to Western platforms is relatively new, and we should expect continued evolution and improvement, given the enormous resourcing the Chinese party-state can bring to bear in aligning state messaging across its diplomacy, state media and covert influence operations. The coordination of diplomatic and state media messaging, the use of Western social media platforms to seed disinformation into international media coverage, the immediate mirroring and rebuttal of Western media coverage by Chinese state media, the co-option of fringe conspiracy media to target networks vulnerable to manipulation and the use of coordinated inauthentic networks and undeclared political ads to actively manipulate social media audiences have all been tactics deployed by the Chinese Government to attempt to shape the information environment to its advantage.
The disruption caused by Covid-19 has created a permissive environment for the CCP to experiment with overt manipulation of global social media audiences on Western platforms. There’s much to suggest that the CCP’s propaganda apparatus has been watching the tactics and impact of Russian disinformation.
The party-state’s online experiments will allow its propaganda apparatus to recalibrate efforts to influence audiences on Western platforms with growing precision. When combined with data acquisition, investments in artificial intelligence and alternative social media platforms, there is potential for the normalisation of a very different information environment from the open internet favoured by democratic societies.
This report is broken into three sections, which follow on from this brief explanation of the dataset, the context of Chinese party-state influence campaigns and the methodology. The first major section investigates the tactics, techniques and operational traits of the campaign. The second section analyses the narratives and nuances included in the campaign messaging. The third section is the appendix, which will allow interested readers to do a deep dive into the data.
ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre received the dataset from Twitter on 2 June and produced this report in 10 days.
The Chinese party-state and influence campaigns
The Chinese party-state has demonstrated its willingness to deploy disinformation and influence operations to achieve strategic goals. For example, the CCP has mobilised a long-running campaign of political warfare against Taiwan, incorporating the seeding of disinformation on digital platforms. And our September 2019 report—Tweeting through the Great Firewall—investigated state-linked information campaigns on Western social media platforms targeting the Hong Kong protests, Chinese dissidents and critics of the CCP regime.
Since Tweeting through the Great Firewall, we have observed a significant evolution in the CCP’s efforts to shape the information environment to its advantage, particularly through the manipulation of social media. Through 2018 and 2019 we observed spikes in the creation of Twitter accounts by Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs spokespeople, diplomats, embassies and state media.
To deflect attention from its early mishandling of a health and economic crisis that has now gone global, the CCP has unashamedly launched waves of disinformation and influence operations intermingled with diplomatic messaging. There are prominent and consistent themes across the messaging of People’s Republic of China (PRC) diplomats and state media: that the CCP’s model of social governance is one that can successfully manage crises, that the PRC’s economy is rapidly recovering from the period of lockdown, and that the PRC is a generous global citizen that can rapidly mobilise medical support and guide the world through the pandemic.
The trends in the PRC’s coordinated diplomatic and state-media messaging are articulated as a coherent strategy by the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, which is a prominent PRC-based think tank. The academy has recommended a range of responses to Western, particularly US-based, media criticism of the CCP’s handling of the pandemic, which it suggests is designed to contain the PRC’s global relationships. The think tank has offered several strategies that are being operationalised by diplomats and state media:
the coordination of externally facing communication, including 24 x 7 foreign media monitoring and rapid response
the promotion of diverse sources, noting that international audiences are inclined to accept independent media
support for Chinese social media platforms such as Weibo, WeChat and Douyin
enhanced forms of communication targeted to specific audiences
the cultivation of foreign talent.
The party-state appears to be allowing for experimentation across the apparatus of government in how to promote the CCP’s view of its place in the world. This study suggests that covert influence operations on Western social media platforms are likely to be an ongoing element of that project.
Methodology
This analysis used a mixed-methods approach combining quantitative analysis of bulk Twitter data with qualitative analysis of tweet content. This was combined with independently identified Facebook accounts, pages and activity including identical or highly similar content to that on Twitter. We assess that this Facebook activity, while not definitively attributed by Facebook itself, is highly likely to be a part of the same operation.
The dataset for quantitative analysis was the tweets from a subset of accounts identified by Twitter as being interlinked and associated through a combination of technical signals to which Twitter has access. Accounts that appeared to be repurposed from originally legitimate users are not included in this dataset, which may potentially skew some analysis.
This dataset consisted of:
account information for 23,750 accounts that Twitter suspended from its service
348,608 tweets from January 2018 to 17 April 2020
60,486 pieces of associated media, consisting of 55,750 images and 4,736 videos.
Many of the tweets contained images with Chinese text. They were processed by ASPI’s technology partner in the application of artificial intelligence and cloud computing to cyber policy challenges, Addaxis, using a combination of internal machine-learning capabilities and Google APIs before further analysis in R. The R statistics package was used for quantitative analysis, which informed social network analysis and qualitative content analysis.
Research limitations: ASPI does not have access to the relevant data to independently verify that these accounts are linked to the Chinese Government. Twitter has access to a variety of signals that are not available to outside researchers, and this research proceeded on the assumption that Twitter’s attribution is correct. It is also important to note that Twitter hasn’t released the methodology by which this dataset was selected, and the dataset doesn’t represent a complete picture of Chinese state-linked information operations on Twitter.
Download full report
Readers are warmly encouraged to download the full report (PDF, 62 pages) to access the full and detailed analysis, notes and references.
Acknowledgements
ASPI would like to thank Twitter for advanced access to the takedown dataset that formed a significant component of this investigation. The authors would also like to thank ASPI colleagues who worked on this report.
What is ASPI?
The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.
ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre
ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.
Important disclaimer
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in relation to the subject matter covered. It is provided with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering any form of professional or other advice or services. No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from a qualified professional.
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First published June 2020.
ISSN 2209-9689 (online) ISSN 2209-9670 (print)
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/28104744/PB33_Retweeting_through_the_great_firewall-banner.jpg6041811nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-06-12 06:00:002025-03-28 10:48:40Retweeting through the Great Firewall
Foreign interference and the Chinese Communist Party’s united front system
What’s the problem?
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is strengthening its influence by co-opting representatives of ethnic minority groups, religious movements, and business, science and political groups. It claims the right to speak on behalf of those groups and uses them to claim legitimacy.
These efforts are carried out by the united front system, which is a network of party and state agencies responsible for influencing groups outside the party, particularly those claiming to represent civil society. It manages and expands the United Front, a coalition of entities working towards the party’s goals.1 The CCP’s role in this system’s activities, known as united front work, is often covert or deceptive.2
The united front system’s reach beyond the borders of the People’s Republic of China (PRC)—such as into foreign political parties, diaspora communities and multinational corporations—is an exportation of the CCP’s political system.3 This undermines social cohesion, exacerbates racial tension, influences politics, harms media integrity, facilitates espionage, and increases unsupervised technology transfer.
General Secretary Xi Jinping’s reinvigoration of this system underlines the need for stronger responses to CCP influence and technology-transfer operations around the world. However, governments are still struggling to manage it effectively and there is little publicly available analysis of the united front system. This lack of information can cause Western observers to underestimate the significance of the united front system and to reduce its methods into familiar categories. For example, diplomats might see united front work as ‘public diplomacy’ or ‘propaganda’ but fail to appreciate the extent of related covert activities. Security officials may be alert to criminal activity or espionage while underestimating the significance of open activities that facilitate it. Analysts risk overlooking the interrelated facets of CCP influence that combine to make it effective.4
What’s the solution?
Governments should disrupt the CCP’s capacity to use united front figures and groups as vehicles for covert influence and technology transfer. They should begin by developing analytical capacity for understanding foreign interference. On that basis, they should issue declaratory policy statements that frame efforts to counter it. Countermeasures should involve law enforcement, legislative reform, deterrence and capacity building across relevant areas of government. Governments should mitigate the divisive effect united front work can have on communities through engagement and careful use of language.
Law enforcement, while critically important, shouldn’t be all or even most of the solution. Foreign interference often takes place in a grey area that’s difficult to address through law enforcement actions. Strengthening civil society and media must be a fundamental part of protecting against interference. Policymakers should make measures to raise the transparency of foreign influence a key part of the response.
Introduction
The United Front … is an important magic weapon for strengthening the party’s ruling position … and an important magic weapon for realising the China Dream of the Great Rejuvenation of the Chinese Nation.
—Xi Jinping, at the 2015 Central United Front Work Meeting5
In recent years, groups and individuals linked to the CCP’s United Front have attracted an unprecedented level of scrutiny for their links to political interference, economic espionage and influence on university campuses. In Australia, businessmen who were members of organisations with close ties to the United Front Work Department (UFWD) have been accused of interfering in Australian politics. In the US, at least two senior members of united front groups for scientists have been taken to court over alleged technology theft. Confucius Institutes, which are overseen with heavy involvement from the UFWD, have generated controversy for more than a decade for their effects on academic freedom and influence on universities. Numerous Chinese students and scholars associations, which are united front groups for Chinese international students, have been involved in suppressing academic freedom and mobilising students for nationalistic activities.
The ongoing Covid-19 pandemic has also highlighted overseas united front networks. In Australia, Canada, the UK, the US, Argentina, Japan and the Czech Republic, groups mobilised to gather increasingly scarce medical supplies from around the world and send them to China.6 Those efforts appear linked to directives from the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese, a united front agency.7 The party’s Central Committee has described the federation as ‘a bridge and a bond for the party and government to connect with overseas Chinese compatriots’.8 After the virus spread globally, united front groups began working with the CCP to donate supplies to the rest of the world and promote the party’s narratives about the pandemic.
Regardless of whether those activities harmed efforts to control the virus, they appeared to take governments by surprise and demonstrate the effectiveness of united front work. The CCP’s attempts to interfere in diaspora communities, influence political systems and covertly access valuable and sensitive technology will only grow as tensions between China and countries around the world develop. As governments begin to confront the CCP’s overseas interference and espionage, understanding the united front system will be crucially important.
This paper dissects the CCP’s united front system and its role in foreign interference. It describes the broad range of agencies and goals of the united front system, rather than focusing only on the UFWD.
It examines how the system is structured, how it operates, and what it seeks to achieve. It reveals how dozens of agencies play a role in the united front system’s efforts to transfer technology, promote propaganda, interfere in political systems and even influence executives of multinational companies.9
The united front system has nearly always been a core system of the CCP.10 For most of its history it’s been led by a member of the Politburo Standing Committee—the party’s top leadership body.
However, Xi has emphasised united front work more than previous leaders, pushing it closer to the position of importance that it occupied in the party’s revolutionary era by elevating its status since 2015. That year, he established high-level bodies and regulations that signalled a greater emphasis on and centralisation of united front work. Later, the Central Committee’s UFWD was expanded by giving it authority over religious, ethnic and Chinese diaspora affairs.11 The united front system and the UFWD in particular have also been given a central role in coordinating policy on Xinjiang, where the darkest side of the party’s political security efforts are on full display.
The CCP originated as a chapter of the Soviet Comintern in 1921. It is itself a product of Lenin’s international united front efforts. In 1922, it began carrying out its own united front work by proposing a united front of supporters of democracy.12
The party credits China’s victory in the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945) to the ‘favourable conditions’ created through its united front with the Kuomintang. This arguably prevented the CCP’s annihilation by shifting the focus of the Kuomintang military from the CCP to Japan.13 It also enabled the party to infiltrate the Kuomintang and subvert it from inside. In the lead-up to the establishment of the PRC in 1949, the party successfully co-opted influential religious figures, intellectuals, engineers and political leaders. Many of them were organised into party-led civil society groups and eight political parties (often referred to as China’s ‘minor parties’ or ‘satellite parties’) that were promised a say in a post-liberation democratic China. Those parties officially accept the leadership of the CCP as a precondition for participation in China’s ‘multiparty cooperation and political consultative system’.
They now serve as platforms for united front work.14
During the ‘reform and opening period’, the United Front played an important role in supporting China’s economic development. Businesspersons, including those from the Chinese diaspora, were encouraged to invest in China and integrated into the United Front through platforms such as the UFWD-run All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce (中华全国工商业联合会).15 According to united front expert Gerry Groot, ‘economic construction required vast numbers of technicians, scientists and administrators’, and groups in the United Front helped reform China’s education system and attract foreign experts and technology.16
To this day, the united front system helps the CCP claim legitimacy, mobilise its supporters and manage perceived threats. It plays a central role in developing policy on highly sensitive issues such as Xinjiang, Tibet, religion and ethnic affairs. It also oversees the CCP-led political model of ‘multiparty cooperation and political consultation’ that’s been in place since 1949.17 This consultation takes place through the annual Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC, 中国人民政治协商 会议), which is chaired by the Politburo Standing Committee member responsible for the united front system and attended by more than 2,000 party-approved representatives from different sectors of PRC society.18
The CCP claims that its system of political consultation and multiparty cooperation is a democratic model.19 However, it operates as a way for the CCP to falsely claim that it represents the full breadth of Chinese society. The CCP serves as China’s ruling party while other groups, such as the eight minor political parties (officially known as ‘democratic parties’) that accept the CCP’s leadership, offer advice to it through the CPPCC. Organisations that claim to speak for different interest groups—the China Association for Science and Technology and the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese, for example—are official components of the CPPCC.20 In practice, those organisations are controlled by the CCP. Their leaders are often party members, and, historically, some have been manipulated through inducement and coercion, including blackmail.21
In recent years, Xi Jinping has been promoting the United Front’s ‘multiparty cooperation and political consultative system’ as a ‘new type of party system’. It also serves as an inspiration for the CCP’s engagement with political parties around the world.22 A 2018 foreign policy editorial by the People’s Daily claimed that Xi Jinping’s ‘systematic elaboration on the super advantages of China’s party system has enlightened the whole world.’23 The chaos of Western societies shows that the CCP ‘is providing the world with … a China solution on how to seek a better political system’, the piece concluded. This point is echoed in training material for united front cadres, which warns that ‘Western hostile forces’ seek to overthrow the CCP and that their influence on overseas ethnic Chinese must be undone.24
The fact that the United Front is a political model and a way for the party to control political representation—the voices of groups targeted by united front work—means its overseas expansion is an exportation of the CCP’s political system. Overseas united front work taken to its conclusion would give the CCP undue influence over political representation and expression in foreign political systems.
Key terminology
The United Front (统一战线) is a coalition of groups and individuals working towards the CCP’s goals.
United front work (统一战线工作) refers to the CCP’s efforts to strengthen and expand the United Front by influencing and co-opting targets.
The United Front Work Department (中央统一战线工作部) is a CCP Central Committee department that coordinates and carries out united front work.
The united front system (统一战线系统 or 统一战线工作系统) is the grouping of agencies, social organisations, businesses, universities, research institutes and individuals carrying out united front work.
United front work is political work
In the words of the UFWD’s director:
The United Front is a political alliance, and united front work is political work. It must maintain the party’s leadership throughout, having the party’s flag as its flag, the party’s direction as its direction, and the party’s will as its will, uniting and gathering members of each part of the United Front around the party.25
It’s designed to bring a diverse range of groups, and their representatives in particular, under the party’s leadership.26
These activities focus on building relationships. Xi Jinping has emphasised that ‘the United Front is about working on people.’27 Co-opting and manipulating elites, influential individuals and organisations is a way to shape discourse and decision-making.
United front work encompasses a broad spectrum of activity, from espionage to foreign interference, influence and engagement (see box). There’s no clear distinction between overseas and domestic work. Premier Zhou Enlai, one of the PRC’s founding revolutionaries and a pioneer of the CCP’s United Front, advocated ‘using the legal to mask the illegal; deftly integrating the legal and the illegal’ (利用合法掩护非法,合法与非法巧妙结合), ‘nestling intelligence within the United Front’ (寓情报于统战中) and ‘using the United Front to push forth intelligence’ (以统战带动情报).28
The scope of united front work is constantly evolving to reflect the CCP’s global ambitions, assessments of internal threats to its security, and the evolution of Chinese society. Today, the overseas functions of united front work include increasing the CCP’s political influence, interfering in the Chinese diaspora, suppressing dissident movements, building a permissive international environment for a takeover of Taiwan, intelligence gathering, encouraging investment in China, and facilitating technology transfer.
Key united front groups and events linked to foreign interference
The Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference is the peak united front forum, bringing together CCP officials and Chinese elites.
The China Overseas Friendship Association is a group run by the UFWD that recently subsumed the China Overseas Exchange Association.
The China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification is an organ of the UFWD with numerous overseas branches.
The All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese is a peak united front body for ethnic Chinese with overseas links.
The Western Returned Scholars Association is the UFWD’s primary body for interacting with ethnic Chinese scholars and scientists.
The Forum on the Global Chinese Language Media is a biennial meeting of overseas Chinese-language media outlets convened by the UFWD.
Chinese students and scholars associations are overseen by Ministry of Education officials and often seek to speak for, influence and monitor Chinese students abroad.
Local equivalents, such as the provincial Guangdong Overseas Friendship Association, exist for most major united front groups.
To those ends, united front work draws on hundreds of thousands of united front figures and thousands of groups, most of which are inside China. This report refers to members of united front groups—organisations guided or controlled by parts of the united front system—as ‘united front figures’. The most readily identifiable united front groups are China-based organisations officially supervised by united front agencies. For example, the China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification—which has chapters in at least 91 countries or territories around the world—and the China Overseas Friendship Association are both directed by the UFWD.29 Members of China-based united front groups often run united front groups abroad. Many China-based united front groups have overseas branches.
Citations and Notes
Readers are urged to download the report PDF for the full list of citations and notes.
United front work: a Xi family business
United front work runs deep through Xi Jinping’s life and family history. His father, Xi Zhongxun, was a central figure carrying out united front work directed at Tibet, seeking to influence the Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama. As a Politburo member in the 1980s, he continued to spend most of his time supervising united front work. He was reportedly seen still wearing a watch given to him by the Dalai Lama three decades earlier.30 Two of Xi Jinping’s siblings were involved in political warfare work for the Chinese military.31
Xi Jinping himself spent 15 years climbing the CCP ranks in Fujian Province—a hotbed of united front and intelligence work targeting Taiwan and the Hokkien-speaking diaspora. In 1995, as a municipal party secretary, he penned a paper on united front work on the Chinese diaspora.32
Two decades later, in 2015, Xi moved to implement many of the ideas he advocated in the paper— greater emphasis on united front work by the party’s leadership and the integration of efforts across the party and bureaucracy. That year, at the Central United Front Work Conference, he repeated Mao Zedong’s famous 1939 description of the United Front as one of three ‘magic weapons’ (法宝) for achieving victory in the communist revolution.33 This was nothing new. Party leaders since the founding of the PRC have consistently run united front conferences and emphasised the United Front as a ‘magic weapon’, with the exception of the Cultural Revolution period.34 But, unlike his predecessors, Xi Jinping has reinvigorated the United Front by launching the greatest reforms of the united front system in at least a generation.
The December 2014 purge of Ling Jihua (令计划), who headed the UFWD and was a close ally of former president Hu Jintao, set the scene for Xi Jinping’s reform of the united front system.35 After positioning Ling as a scapegoat for the department’s problems, Xi began pursuing the ‘Great United Front’ (大统战)—a program for ensuring that united front work is carried out by the entire party and with greater centralisation, coordination and direction.36 He established a ‘leading small group’ for united front work that brought together dozens of agencies to inspect and improve united front work across the country, formally raised the status of the Central United Front Work Conference, reorganised the UFWD, and introduced the first regulations for united front work.37
In his report to the 19th Party Congress, Xi Jinping referred to the United Front as being about drawing the largest concentric circle around the party.38 Under the direction of the united front system’s leaders, agencies of the united front system seek to co-opt influential individuals and groups in a range of areas, including business, politics and science. Party committees, whether in multinational companies, research institutes or embassies, have been directed by Xi to follow the Central Committee’s directions and regulations on united front work.39 Figure 1 shows the system.
Figure 1: The united front system
* Asterisks denote agencies subordinate to the UFWD.
Leadership and agencies
Figure 2: Wang Yang
The united front system’s leader is Wang Yang (汪洋), the fourth-ranked member of the seven-man Politburo Standing Committee, the party’s top leadership body. Wang chairs the most important united front forum: the CPPCC. He also heads the Central United Front Work Leading Small Group.
Sun Chunlan (孙春兰), a Politburo member and vice premier who holds culture, health, sport, religion and education portfolios, may also be involved in supervising the government’s (as opposed to the party’s) contributions to united front work.40 Sun was previously head of the UFWD and currently chairs the council of Confucius Institute Headquarters, overseeing the global Confucius Institute program.41
The presence of State Council Secretary-General Xiao Jie (肖捷) at a recent leading small group event indicates that he may now be responsible for government agencies’ involvement in united front work.42
The status of the UFWD’s director, a key member of the system’s leadership, has been elevated in recent years. You Quan, the current head of the UFWD, is one of seven members of the Central Secretariat, which carries out the Politburo’s day-to-day work.43 His predecessor sat on the Politburo while heading the department.
Leaders of the united front system and representatives of relevant agencies sit in the Central United Front Work Leading Small Group.44 At least 26 agencies were represented in the leading small group’s activities in 2017.45 Agencies involved in united front work include the Propaganda Department, the Organisation Department, the Ministry of Education, the State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission and the Ministry of State Security, which is the PRC’s civilian intelligence agency.46
The United Front Work Department
‘With everyone doing [united front work] together, there must be division of labour’, a senior UFWD official wrote in 2016.47 The UFWD acts as a coordinating agency for united front work. In practice, China’s bureaucracy is famously stovepiped and it’s difficult to determine how successful the UFWD’s coordination efforts are.
The CCP Central Committee has authorised the department to manage all overseas Chinese affairs, religious affairs and ethnic affairs work. Nominally, it oversees actions by other departments, such as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in those areas. Since March 2018, it has controlled three relevant government agencies: the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, the State Ethnic Affairs Commission and the State Administration for Religious Affairs.48
Together with the Taiwan Affairs Office, the UFWD and 11 of its subordinate agencies had more than 600 officials at the level of bureau chief or above in 2016 (Figure 3). Bureau chiefs are ranked just under vice ministers and deputy heads of provincial governments. They’re roughly equivalent to first assistant secretaries in the Australian Public Service or assistant secretaries in the US Government.49
Figure 3: The UFWD’s 12 bureaus
*Asterisks denote unofficially named bureaus. Note: Bureaus 6 and 8–12 were all created after 2015.
The UFWD runs the offices of the central coordination groups on Tibet and Xinjiang affairs and coordinates policy on the two regions.50 The establishment of the UFWD’s Xinjiang Bureau, which doubles as the office of the Central Coordination Group on Xinjiang Work (中央新疆工作协调小组), coincided with the rapid expansion of re-education and detention camps there in 2016. United front work departments are found at lower levels of government across China. Provincial, city and even district party committees typically oversee their own UFWDs.
Internally, the department has 10 leaders, at least six of whom hold ministerial rank or higher (see Appendix 1 for further information about the department’s leaders). It has 12 bureaus, half of which were created after 2015. Bureaucratic changes in 2018 that brought overseas Chinese affairs under the UFWD’s ‘unified management’ also injected dozens if not hundreds of officials with substantial overseas experience into the department.51 Jinan University, Huaqiao University and the Central Institute of Socialism in Beijing are all subordinate to the UFWD and carry out research and training to support its efforts.52 Additionally, the UFWD runs dedicated training facilities, such as the Jixian Mountain Estate (集贤山庄), which is a complex in the outskirts of Beijing used for training China Overseas Friendship Association cadres.53
The department supervises more than 80 ‘civil groups’ at the national level, and more than 3,000 organisations are overseen by local UFWDs (see Appendix 2). Many of them, such as the China Overseas Friendship Association, are officially described as ‘united front system work units’ and operate like bureau-level organs of the UFWD.54 At least two of them have held special consultative status as NGOs in the UN Economic and Social Council.55 In 2014, an official from one of them, the China Association for Preservation and Development of Tibetan Culture (中国西藏文化保护与发展 协会), was barred from a UN human rights hearing after he intimidated a woman testifying about her father, political prisoner Wang Bingzhang.56
Propaganda work by the United Front Work Department
The UFWD commands substantial resources for propaganda efforts targeting the Chinese diaspora. It runs China News Service (中国新闻社), one of the CCP’s largest media networks, which has dozens of overseas bureaus.57
Several overseas Chinese-language media outlets are owned or controlled by the UFWD through China News Service, including Qiaobao (侨报) in the US and Australia’s Pacific Media Group (大洋传 媒集团).58 At least 26 WeChat accounts run by nine Chinese media outlets are in fact registered to a subsidiary of China News Service.59 The accounts operate in all Five Eyes countries, the European Union, Russia, Japan and Brazil. They include accounts registered to Qiaobao and Pacific Media Group, indicating that they may all belong to companies supervised by the UFWD. Many of the accounts appear to have tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of followers.
Figure 4: At least 26 overseas Chinese-language media WeChat accounts are registered to a company that’s ultimately owned by the UFWD
China News Service engages with foreign media through its biennial Forum on the Global Chinese Language Media (世界华文媒体论坛). The event has drawn hundreds of overseas media representatives, including some from Australia’s national broadcaster.60 Training classes on topics such as ‘How to tell the Belt and Road Initiative’s story well’ are held on the sidelines of the forum.61
Agencies carrying out united front work
Party committees at all levels must place united front work in an important position.
—Xi Jinping, speaking at the 2015 Central United Front Work Conference62
Party members are expected to play a role in the ‘Great United Front’ by carrying out work in their relevant areas.63 Dozens of party and government agencies are involved in united front work. More and more party committees in state and private companies, universities and research institutes are engaging in united front work. Representatives of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) also attended the 2015 Central United Front Work Conference, indicating that the military is involved in united front work.64
Education
The Ministry of Education and party committees in Chinese universities lead united front work on campuses.65 The ministry works with the UFWD to hold regular conferences on ‘university united front work’ and maintains its own database of united front work targets, including relatives of overseas Chinese.66 Education officials also study official guidance on united front work and describe the education system as ‘an important battlefield’ for that work.67
Most Chinese universities have UFWDs responsible for the full breadth of united front work.68 For example, Xiamen University’s UFWD oversees religious affairs work at the university, which includes building a database of religious believers, managing student informants and monitoring students’ phones.69 Dalian University of Foreign Languages’ UFWD establishes alumni associations around the world and runs a database of overseas students and alumni as ‘a basis for overseas united front work’.70
Foreign affairs
United front work targeting the Chinese diaspora involves several agencies. Major ‘overseas Chinese affairs’ events are usually presided over by representatives of:
the UFWD (or the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office that it subsumed in 2018)
the National People’s Congress Overseas Chinese Affairs Committee
the CPPCC Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macau and Overseas Chinese Committee
the China Zhi Gong Party (致公党)
the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.71
The first five of those organisations are often called the ‘five Overseas Chinese’ (五侨).72 Most, if not all, of China’s embassies have several diplomats tasked with interfering in the diaspora— a kind of activity that’s officially under the ‘unified management’ of the UFWD.73 The decision to place diaspora affairs under the UFWD’s leadership came in March 2018 and ‘effectively resolved the problem of the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and UFWD’s overlapping responsibilities’, according to the People’s Daily.74 Embassies hold meetings with local united front leaders where the leaders receive directions to influence public opinion, such as by coordinating rallies in support of Chinese Government policy or visiting officials.75
Increasing numbers of diplomats responsible for diaspora work now come from the UFWD rather than the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. For example, China’s ambassador to Sri Lanka has a background not in the foreign affairs system but as a united front official.76
Indeed, the UFWD was an important foundation for China’s foreign affairs bureaucracy. The International Liaison Department (the party agency managing party-to-party relations) was formed on the basis of a UFWD bureau in 1951.77 The International Liaison Department still has united front characteristics, although it isn’t known whether any of its activities are guided by the united front system.78 A former head of the department from the 1990s stated that he views its work as an international version of united front work. In an interview, he compared its interactions with foreign political parties to the CPPCC—the primary platform for the United Front’s so-called ‘system of multiparty cooperation and political consultation led by the CCP’.79
Intelligence and political warfare
Intelligence agencies carry out and take advantage of united front work. The networks, status and relationships built through united front work, as well as information gathered through it, facilitate intelligence activity. The integration of intelligence and united front work runs deep through the party’s history: at a 1939 Politburo meeting, CCP leader Zhou Enlai advocated ‘nestling intelligence in the United Front’ and ‘using the United Front to push forth intelligence’.80
The Ministry of State Security (MSS), which is China’s civilian intelligence agency, is involved in and benefits from united front work. Official accounts state that the MSS was created in 1983 by combining parts of four agencies, including the UFWD.81 One of its fronts, the China International Cultural Exchange Center (中国国际文化交流中心), carries out united front work. In 2004, a committee member at the centre said that the scope of its ‘domestic and overseas united front work activities is extremely broad’.82 At the time, its nominal director was a former UFWD minister.83
The China International Cultural Exchange Center may have been an important part of the MSS’s overseas operations. It’s linked to the MSS’s Social Affairs Bureau (社会联络局 or 社会调查局), also known as the 12th bureau. In their book Chinese communist espionage, Peter Mattis and Matthew Brazil describe the bureau as handling ‘MSS contributions to the CCP’s united front work system’.84 One of the bureau’s former chiefs, Mao Guohua (毛国华), was double-hatted as the centre’s secretary-general (Figure 5).85 Mao was the handler of Katrina Leung, a triple agent who successfully gained the trust of the US Federal Bureau of Investigation in the 1980s and 1990s.86
Figure 5: Retired MSS officer Mao Guohua in 2018
Source: ‘前国安部社会调查局局长说, “奉化的长处的短板是。。。。。。”’ [The former chief of the Social Affairs Bureau of the Ministry of State Security said, ‘The shortcomings of Fenghua’s strengths are …’], Sohu, 15 October 2018, online.
Similarly, the political warfare arm of the PLA—the Political Work Department Liaison Bureau (政治工 作部联络局), formerly the Liaison Department of the General Political Department (总参谋政治部联 络部)—has been described by experts as ‘most closely aligned with the united front system’.87 Like the International Liaison Department, this agency uses united front tactics (such as the use of prominent front groups, an emphasis on co-opting influential individuals, and efforts to discredit those who aren’t aligned with the CCP’s goals) but it’s unlikely that it’s part of the institutionalised united front system. The China Association for International Friendly Contact (中国国际友好联络会) is a united-front-style group run by the Liaison Bureau that seeks to build ties with foreign groups and individuals. Those it has interacted with include an Australian mining magnate, a former Australian ambassador to China, a new-age religious movement in Japan, and retired generals and bureaucrats from the US.88
Intelligence officers have used united front positions as cover. The overseas Chinese affairs consul in San Francisco during the 2008 Olympic torch relay was a suspected MSS officer, according to former US intelligence officials.89 Guangdong State Security Bureau Director Zhou Yingshi (周颖石) may have claimed to be a Guangdong UFWD vice minister as a form of cover in the past.90 An officer from the PLA’s Liaison Bureau was concurrently serving as a division head in Guangzhou city’s UFWD.91
There’s also evidence that the UFWD itself has recently carried out clandestine operations involving the handling of people covertly reporting to it. The Taiwanese Government is currently prosecuting a father–son pair who were allegedly recruited by an official from the Fujian Province UFWD.92 The father heads a united-front-linked political party in Taiwan, while his son is a retired lieutenant colonel.
Unverified reports have claimed that, like China’s intelligence agencies, the department is allowed to recruit Taiwanese as agents.93
Groups targeted by united front work
CCP regulations on united front work define 12 broad groups to be targeted:
new social strata individuals (urban professionals)
overseas and returned overseas students
people in Hong Kong and Macau
Taiwanese people and their relatives in the PRC
overseas ethnic Chinese and their relatives in the PRC
any other individuals who need uniting and liaising.94
Work on the targeted groups is designed to bring them under the party’s leadership not merely to neutralise any opposition they may pose, but also to have them serve as platforms for further efforts.
Once groups or individuals have been integrated into the united front system, they can be used to co-opt and influence others. They’re also used to support the party’s claim that it represents and consults various constituencies not just in China but increasingly beyond China’s borders.
There’s no clear distinction between domestic and overseas united front work: all bureaus of the UFWD and all areas of united front work involve overseas activities. This is because the key distinction underlying the United Front is not between domestic and overseas groups, but between the CCP and everyone else.95 For example, the UFWD’s Xinjiang Bureau plays a central role in policy on Xinjiang but is also involved in worldwide efforts to whitewash the CCP’s internment of an estimated 1.5 million people in Xinjiang, primarily ethnic Uyghur Muslims, as an anti-terrorism and vocational training effort.96
State-owned enterprises and research institutions often have mature united front work departments.
For example, Baowu Steel (宝武钢铁), one of the world’s largest steel producers, has an internal UFWD and has established united front organisations for Taiwanese people and ethnic Chinese who have lived abroad.97 The company’s united front work evidently earned it praise—its CEO from 2007 to 2016 has been a UFWD vice minister since 2017.98
Large numbers of leading Chinese scientists were educated abroad and are members of China’s eight minor parties or have no party affiliation, making them another priority of united front work.99 The Chinese Academy of Sciences—one of the world’s largest research organisations, with more than 60,000 researchers—has a UFWD and a united front work leading small group that provides oversight of the academy’s united front work.100
Both Chinese and foreign private enterprises are increasingly targeted by united front work. In 2015, ‘new social strata individuals’—a category covering urban professionals such as managerial staff and NGO workers—became a new focus of united front work because of their growing influence in Chinese society and strong links to the West.101 For example, JD.com, one of the world’s largest e-commerce companies, is an official pilot site for united front work in private companies. In 2018, CEO Richard Liu announced the establishment of two united front groups within JD.com (Figure 6).102
Figure 6: Richard Liu (right) unveiling a plaque for JD.com’s united front work pilot site
‘Multinational companies such as the ‘Big Four’ accounting firms are also targets of united front work.103 Deloitte China established a united front association for young and middle-aged employees in 2016, headed by its CEO.104 At the association’s founding, a Deloitte partner thanked the UFWD for its support and promised: ‘The Deloitte Young and Middle-aged Intellectuals Association will comply with the Trial Regulations on United Front Work’.105
According to a government website, the Shanghai UFWD ‘took a liking’ (看上了) to a Deloitte partner, Jiang Ying, during its visits to Deloitte’s office.106 Senior members of China-based united front organisations are typically selected by local UFWDs. Jiang is now deputy CEO of Deloitte China, is a delegate to the CPPCC and was recently awarded a commendation from the Shanghai UFWD.107
In total, at least eight Deloitte China executives are delegates to the CPPCC or its local equivalents.108
United front structures within multinational companies provide additional channels for influencing the companies beyond party committees. United front groups often target people who aren’t members of the CCP, especially those who have spent time abroad. Under the ‘Trial regulations on united front work’, the UFWD is supposed to direct ‘relevant civil organisations’, such as Deloitte’s united front group, ‘to play a role in Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan and overseas united front work’.109 After anonymous employees of the Big Four paid for a Hong Kong newspaper ad supporting protests there, all four companies released statements in support of the Chinese Government’s actions and were pressured to fire those responsible for the ad.110
In 2017, Deloitte partnered with the Australian Financial Review for an infrastructure forum in Melbourne, at which a Deloitte China executive who is also a delegate to the Shandong Committee of the CPPCC warned that Australia’s refusal to sign up to the Belt and Road Initiative was hurting business.111 His role in the united front group doesn’t seem to have been disclosed in the conference agenda.
Figure 7: Deloitte China Deputy CEO Jiang Ying at the CPPCC.
Source: ‘德勤声音——全国政协委员蒋颖在两会上踊跃谏言 多份提案吸引媒体高度关注’ [Deloitte’s voice—CPPCC member Vivian Jiang enthusiastically offers advice at the two sessions], Deloitte, no date, online.
Foreign interference and the united front system
This section of the report describes several aspects of united front work abroad, and particularly efforts to influence politics and think tanks, collect data and transfer technology. United front work generally involves covert activity and is a form of interference that aids the CCP’s rise and reduces resistance to its encroachment on sovereignty.112
It will be important for future studies to examine overseas united front work in Asia, North America and Europe. Efforts targeting scientific communities, religious groups and Chinese-language education remain understudied. Outside of Australia, New Zealand and the Czech Republic, there are very few detailed country-specific studies of influence and technology-transfer efforts linked to the united front system.113
Many CCP agencies, such as the International Liaison Department, the MSS, the Chinese People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries and the PLA, engage in their own foreign interference efforts. Those activities often overlap with or take advantage of those of the united front system, and draw on the tradition of united front work, but they’re probably carried out independently.
Political influence
When it seeks to build political influence, united front work primarily targets political actors rather than political systems. Democracies subjected to united front work might retain democratic structures and processes, while representation and political participation are ultimately manipulated by the CCP.
Independent researcher Jichang Lulu has referred to this as a process of ‘repurposing democracy’ (see box).114
Understanding CCP influence, a prerequisite to any sound policy formulation, thus necessitates the analysis of the foreign activities of China’s entire political system, rather than decontextualised aspects of the work of its more familiar agencies. Such analysis would be vitiated by an a priori compartmentalisation guided by, e.g., distinctions between ‘influence’ and ‘interference’, ‘benign’ and ‘malign’, or ‘legal’ and ‘illegal’. While relevant to target-country policy responses, such categories may not be useful in the actors’ Leninist context. A narrow focus on the hostile leaves much influence work unaccounted for. Influence work as described in this study does not seek to disrupt democratic structures, but to repurpose them as tools facilitating the advancement of the policies of a totalitarian, expansionist régime.
—Jichang Lulu, Repurposing democracy: The European Parliament China Friendship Cluster, Sinopsis, 26 November 2019, online.
The role of the CCP in these activities is often covert. United front figures typically deny any links to the united front system. Australian-Chinese businessman and political donor Chau Chak Wing, for example, claimed he had never heard of the UFWD, despite mentioning it in a speech and being pictured meeting with its officials.115
Ethnic Chinese communities are a focus of united front work.116 In activities directed at diaspora communities, the CCP seeks to co-opt, control and install community leaders, community groups, business associations and media. It seeks to collapse the diversity of Chinese communities into a fictional homogeneous and ‘patriotic’ group united under the party’s leadership.117 Successful united front work wedges the party between ethnic Chinese communities and the societies they live in, expanding the party’s control of those communities’ channels for representation and mobilisation.
Members of Chinese communities who want to participate in community activities may unwittingly become associated with united front groups. Combined with the party’s surveillance and censorship of the Chinese social media app WeChat, this has smothered independent Chinese media outlets and community groups.118
Interference in Chinese communities harms genuine and independent political participation in politics by ethnic Chinese. In countries such as Australia, where united front work is quite mature, it’s proven difficult for politicians to avoid associating with united front groups and implicitly legitimising them as representatives of the broader Chinese community.119 For example, both major party candidates for a seat in parliament during the 2019 Australian federal election had reportedly either been members of united front groups or had travelled on united-front-sponsored trips to China.120 Both contenders for leadership of the NSW Labor Party in 2019 had attended events run by united-front-linked groups.121
Case study: Huang Xiangmo
Huang Xiangmo (黄向墨) is one of the most informative cases of united-front-linked influence efforts.
Ironically, his active efforts to influence Australian politics became a catalyst for the Australian Government’s introduction of counter foreign interference legislation and his own expulsion from the country.
Huang, also known by his legal name, Huang Changran (黄畅然), was born in 1969 in a small village in the Chaoshan region of Guangdong Province. According to a hagiographic account of his life published in 2012, he grew up in poverty and left school at an early age.122 Despite that, he worked hard and read widely. In 1998, he was working for the state-owned China Railway Construction Corporation.123 He soon founded a property development company named after his home village, Yuhu, and prospered amid rapid economic growth in the province.124
By 2012, Huang was ranked as China’s 420th richest person, worth an estimated Ұ4.5 billion (roughly A$700 million at the time).125 He also donated generously to public projects—specifically, those favoured by the Jieyang Party Secretary, Chen Hongping (陈弘平), such as the massive Han dynasty-inspired Jieyang Tower in the city’s central square.126 Huang also gained social standing, reflected in his appointment to the Jieyang People’s Political Consultative Conference—the city’s peak united front forum.127
In July 2012, Huang’s allies ran up against the CCP’s anticorruption machine. Party Secretary Chen was taken into the extralegal ‘shuanggui’ investigation process.128 Five years later, Chen received a suspended death sentence for corruption.129 He took down at least six associates, including the Guangzhou Party Secretary, with him.130 Among his sins, the People’s Daily reported, was his obsession with grand cultural and spiritual projects, including the Jieyang Tower and a lavish personal mausoleum.131 The next year, 17 police officials in Jieyang were fired, under suspicion of tipping off suspects about investigations.132
Shortly before the scandal erupted, Huang Xiangmo began relocating to Australia, building an investment portfolio in Sydney and purchasing a $12.8 million mansion. It’s reported that several business associates followed him, buying nearby properties provided they were cheaper and lower down the hill than his. Huang denies being involved in the Jieyang corruption case.133
It would be nearly a decade before Huang was next spotted in the Chinese mainland. However, his connections to Chinese authorities didn’t end with the corruption case and his arrival in Australia.
As early as February 2012, Huang became an honorary president of the Australian Council for the Promotion of the Peaceful Reunification of China (ACPPRC, 澳洲中国和平统一促进会), despite having no known substantial links to Australia before then.134 The reunification council is closely linked to the UFWD-run China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification, which promotes the PRC’s annexation of Taiwan.135 Huang eventually became president of the Australian reunification council and a senior director of the UFWD-run China Council.136 The China Council’s president is Wang Yang, the Politburo Standing Committee member who oversees the united front system. Its senior vice president is the UFWD minister.137
As Philip Wen and Lucy Macken wrote in the Sydney Morning Herald in 2016, ‘Huang arrived in Australia in near-total obscurity. But big spending and relentless networking behind closed doors has seen him swiftly ingratiate himself with Australia’s most powerful politicians’.138
After arriving in Australia, Huang hired long-time ACPPRC member Eng Joo Ang (洪永裕) as an adviser to his company. Ang accompanied Huang as he met with former prime minister Kevin Rudd in December 2012 (Figure 8).
Sam Dastyari, then general secretary of the New South Wales Labor Party, also appeared at the meeting.139 Dastyari was known as a prolific fundraiser, and his relationship with and patronage from Huang Xiangmo led to the downfall of both. As Dastyari later said, ‘There is an arms race for donations between the parties. And when you’ve got individuals like Huang who are prepared to fork out millions of dollars they get listened to.’140
Figure 8: Eng Joo Ang, Kevin Rudd, Huang Xiangmo and Sam Dastyari, December 2012
Huang and his companies, associates and employees donated a total of over $3 million to both sides of politics.141 He also stepped in to pay a legal bill for Sam Dastyari, by then a senator.142 Another businessman—a CPPCC delegate and member of the UFWD’s China Overseas Friendship Association— helped Dastyari settle the difference when the senator overspent his parliamentary travel budget.143 Huang also partnered with CCP agencies, including the International Liaison Department, to organise and sponsor parliamentarians to travel to China.144
Former prime minister Rudd was only one in a long list of political figures with whom Huang networked. Huang secured meetings with the prime minister and opposition leader. At least four political figures—a former New South Wales Labor general secretary, a former New South Wales Labor treasurer, a former federal Liberal minister, and a former media adviser to a different federal Liberal minister—were hired by Huang and helped him build influence.145 Senior representatives of both major parties attended his daughter’s wedding in 2016.146
It seems that politicians treated Huang Xiangmo as a wealthy Chinese community leader and didn’t think too much about the political objectives contained in the very name of the reunification council he ran. Rather than alerting politicians to his links to the CCP, Huang’s leadership of united front groups was misinterpreted as a marker of his influence among Chinese-Australians. When Huang took over leadership of the reunification council when its original president died in 2015, senior Liberal Party politician Philip Ruddock appeared to gloss over the council’s founding purpose, remarking that it ‘has a rather strange name … Some people are very interested in the title. My emphasis is always on “peaceful”’.147
Roughly a dozen reunification council members have stood for election or gained jobs as political staffers. Chief among them was Ernest Wong (王国忠), whose predecessor in the New South Wales Legislative Council house was hired by Huang’s company.148 In a 2014 article attributed to him, he copied, word for word, advice on political participation from the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office—a core united front system agency that’s since been absorbed by the UFWD.149 In a line that also appears verbatim in the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office document, the article recommends: ‘[one of the ways for Chinese to participate in politics is] by pushing changes in policy and influencing government positions by working on politicians and elites.’150 Wong held positions in several united front bodies in both China and Australia and was reportedly a target of cultivation by Chinese intelligence officers.151
Consistent with the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office’s guidance, Wong and Huang sought to mentor young Chinese-Australians with political aspirations.152 The pair organised the Australia Young Leadership Forum for Chinese university students, which worked to train future political talent.153
Huang also engaged in philanthropic activities and gave generously to universities. He established centres in two Australian universities: the Australia–China Relations Institute (ACRI) at the University of Technology Sydney and the Australia–China Institute for Arts and Culture at Western Sydney University. Huang claimed to have personally selected a former Australian foreign minister as director of ACRI, which has attracted controversy since its founding in 2014.154 ACRI hosted a senior united front official in 2016 and also organised trips to China, supported by the Propaganda Department, for Australian journalists.155
Figure 9: Huang Xiangmo, surrounded by leaders of the reunification council and the Australia China Economics, Trade and Culture Association, shakes hands with Politburo member and former UFWD director Liu Yandong in 2012
Source: ‘Liu Yandong, member of the Political Bureau of the CPC Central Committee, meets with Australian overseas Chinese’, news release, Yuhu Group, 19 December 2012, online.
Huang caught the Australia Security Intelligence Organisation’s attention by 2015. That year, the agency’s director-general reportedly warned about Huang’s potential links to the CCP in briefings to Australian political parties.156
As investigative journalists began scrutinising Huang’s activities, his transactional dealings with political parties became clearer. In 2016, Huang reportedly withdrew a promised $400,000 donation to the Labor Party after its defence spokesman criticised China’s militarisation of the South China Sea.157
The next week, Senator Dastyari stood beside Huang at a press conference for Chinese-language media and urged Australia to remain neutral in the territorial dispute, which he described as ‘China’s own affair’.158
Dastyari eventually quit politics after it emerged that he’d warned Huang that Huang’s phone was probably bugged.159 Dastyari admitted in 2019 that Huang may have been an ‘agent of influence’ for the Chinese Government.160
Public figures began distancing themselves from Huang and his reunification council as controversy surrounding him grew. Several members had their names removed from the group’s public membership list.161 A Victorian state politician who had previously been a member of the council said, ‘I know what this organisation is about so I keep 100 miles from them.’162 Tim Xu, a former assistant to Huang, testified in 2019 that the reunification council is a front for the CCP.163
According to media reporting, some of Huang’s associates may have been involved in organised criminal activity. In July 2019, it was reported that two of Huang’s reunification council members were running illegal gambling junkets for Crown Casino and involved in money laundering. Huang himself gambled $800 million in one year with Crown Casino.164 In October, the Australian Taxation Office accused him of underpaying tax by $140 million, ordering his assets to be frozen.165
The growing scrutiny of Huang’s activities culminated in his residency in Australia being canceled while he was in Hong Kong. His citizenship application was denied and his residency rescinded after the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation reportedly concluded that he was ‘amenable to conducting acts of foreign interference’.166 Huang later complained to the state-owned Global Times that Australia has ‘the innate characteristics of a giant baby’.167
Huang’s story, however, hasn’t ended. His political donations, some of which were allegedly disguised through proxies, are being investigated by the New South Wales Independent Commission Against Corruption.168 In May 2019, Huang reappeared in mainland China for the first time in years—as a delegate to a united front meeting attended by Xi Jinping.169 In November 2019, Wang Liqiang, a Chinese defector to Australia, alleged that Huang had met with a PLA intelligence officer.170 Wang is now being sued by a former reunification council member.171 Huang’s networks, and united front networks more generally, are still active in Australia, and more than 120 organisations protested his expulsion.172
Recognising united front groups
There’s no foolproof way to identify a united front group, but the following activities may indicate that an organisation is associated with the united front system:
Its executives hold positions in China-based united front groups.
It advocates for the ‘reunification’ of China.
It associates frequently with the local PRC diplomatic mission.
It participates in pro-PRC political rallies.
It hosts visiting CCP officials from the united front system.
It issues statements or holds events in coordination with known united front groups.
Asking a knowledgeable friend in the Chinese community for advice can also be helpful.
Because of the opacity of some aspects of united front work, it’s difficult to know the degree of direction party officials exercise over united front figures. Even within each overseas united front group there appears to be variation in the relationships that members and executives have with PRC officials. To the extent that they’re directed, many of their united front activities are likely to be supervised by provincial or even municipal UFWDs, some of which have a greater overseas focus than the central UFWD.
It’s also possible that a small number of united front figures are ultimately directed by the MSS or PLA as intelligence assets, using united front work as a platform for intelligence activity. The two organisations are better resourced for and more experienced in serious political interference work than the UFWD.173 Both have records of using united front roles as cover. They may also be better positioned to wield leverage over individuals who are wanted for crimes in China.
Nonetheless, many united front figures aren’t acting spontaneously out of patriotic sentiments and an independent desire to please Beijing. Overseas united front figures frequently meet with united front system officials, receive directions and study relevant guidance. A Sydney man reportedly set up the Australian Jiangsu China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful Reunification (澳洲江苏中国和平统一 促进会) at the direction of a senior UFWD official.174 The Australian Guangxi Business Association (澳洲 广西总商会) was reportedly founded in 2011 under the ‘coordination’ of a provincial UFWD.175
When the PLA Navy made a visit to Sydney Harbour on 3 June 2019, a day before the 30th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre, it was met by a welcoming crowd from the Sydney Beijing Association (悉尼北京会) bearing a custom-made banner.176 The visit hadn’t been publicly announced, indicating that the group had been notified beforehand by the Chinese Government.
In July 2015, the president of a Sydney-based association said his group ‘will strengthen its use of Xi Jinping’s spirit at the Central United Front Work Conference to go further in demonstrating our special characteristics’.177
In Australia and Taiwan, the CCP has used organised crime groups to carry out united front work.178
Several cases suggest that criminal activity may be tolerated by the Chinese Government and even used as leverage in exchange for participation in political influence operations.179 For example, media have reported that a prolific gambling junket operator involved in money laundering also runs three prominent united front groups in Melbourne, one of which is officially endorsed by the UFWD, and served as an honorary president of the ACPPRC.180 At the same time, he was a business partner of a former adviser to the Victorian Premier.181
In 2008, Sydney man Frank Hu (胡扬) was charged with importing 250 kilograms of cocaine.182
However, Hu was known to the public as a ‘Chinese community leader’ who was close to the PRC Consulate and ran a cultural association that took parliamentarians on tours of China.183 Similarly, Chang An-lo (张安乐), a Taiwanese gangster also known as ‘White Wolf’, is the founder of the Chinese Unification Promotion Party. The party has been raided by the Taiwan Government as part of investigations into political parties illegally accepting money from the Chinese Government.184
The lack of any clear distinction between domestic and overseas united front work means that changes in how that work is carried out in China could have important implications for foreign interference. While the UFWD has long worked with Chinese security agencies, links between those worlds appear to be deepening.185 In 2018, Ministry of Public Security Vice Minister Shi Jun was reassigned as a UFWD vice minister and now oversees the department’s work on Xinjiang.186 The UFWD plays a central role in the securitisation of Xinjiang, including the disappearance of approximately 1.5 million Uyghurs and other minorities into concentration camps.187 It has worked with the National Counter-Terrorism Office on security in the lead-up to major political meetings and runs campaigns with the MSS and the Ministry of Public Security to crack down on Christianity.188 This may foreshadow an increase in the brazenness, intolerance and intensity of united front work abroad, helped by the party’s increased ability to coordinate and direct that work.189
Case study: The British Chinese Project
The kinds of united front work observed in Australia, the US190 and New Zealand191 can be clearly seen in other Five Eyes countries and across Europe. In the UK, for example, the British Chinese Project (BC Project, 英国华人参政计划) is a group that says it seeks to foster the political participation of ethnic Chinese and build their influence on policy.192 It provides advice to, and acts as the secretariat for, the All-Party Parliamentary Chinese in Britain Group. The parliamentary group had six members in 2018.193
However, the BC Project’s close links to the united front system call into question its independence and ability to genuinely represent ethnic Chinese. Its chair and founder, Christine Lee (李贞驹), is an executive member of the China Overseas Friendship Association and a committee member of the CPPCC, which are both run by the UFWD (Figure 10).194 Lee is also a legal adviser to several Chinese Government organs, including the Chinese Embassy in London, the UFWD’s Overseas Chinese Affairs Office and the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese.195 Her law firm claims to be the only British one authorised by the Chinese Government to practise as a foreign law firm in China.196
Figure 10: Christine Lee at a 2019 united front meeting for overseas Chinese. United front system leader Wang Yang is seated directly in front of her.
Source: ‘Xi Jinping meets with representatives of the Ninth Conference for Friendship of Overseas Chinese Associations and the Fifth Council of China Overseas Friendship Association’, YouTube, 28 May 2019, online.
Since 2009, Lee has donated hundreds of thousands of pounds to Labour Party shadow secretary of state for international trade Barry Gardiner.197 Reports by The Times in February 2017 scrutinised Lee and Gardiner’s relationship, but appeared to have little effect on their activities.198 Lee’s son, Daniel Wilkes, has worked for Gardiner since 2015.199 Gardiner has been the chair of the All-Party Parliamentary Chinese in Britain Group since its inception in 2011.200
As shadow energy secretary, Gardiner was an outspoken advocate of a controversial proposal for Chinese Government involvement in the Hinkley Point nuclear reactor project. He argued that it was important to sign the agreement to show the UK’s acceptance of Chinese investment, even if it was a bad deal in financial terms.201 The Chinese partner on Hinkley Point, China General Nuclear Power Company (CGNPC), is a state-owned nuclear company that’s been involved in espionage and is subject to a US Government export ban because of its history of diverting nuclear technology to the Chinese military.202 The US Government has warned that CGNPC uses nuclear technology to aid the Chinese military, including through the development of floating nuclear reactors and reactors for submarines.
Technology transfer
The united front system is a central component of the PRC’s legal and illicit technology-transfer efforts.
United front technology-transfer efforts seek to establish or co-opt professional associations with members in universities, governments and private companies. The groups then help recruit overseas scientists and promote technology transfer to China.203 Some of them are also tasked with building databases on overseas scientists.204 The role of the united front system in technology transfer will be detailed in a forthcoming report by the ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre.
Exemplifying the united front system’s involvement in technology-transfer efforts, the UFWD’s Western Returned Scholars Association (WRSA, 欧美同学会) runs the official association for participants in the Thousand Talents Plan (千人计划专家联谊会), which is a flagship CCP talent recruitment program for foreign scientists.205 China’s Minister of Science and Technology from 2007 to 2018 was also a senior united front official and chair of the Zhi Gong Party (致公党), which is a minor party supervised by the UFWD that draws its membership from Chinese who have returned from abroad.206
The party and country respect the choices of overseas students. If you return to China to work, we will open our arms to warmly welcome you. If you stay abroad, we will support you to serve the country through various means. Everyone must remember: no matter where you are, you are sons and daughters of China.
—Xi Jinping, in his speech to the Western Returned Scholars Association, 2013
Some united-front-linked overseas professional associations have been implicated in economic espionage. For example, Yang Chunlai (杨春来), a programmer at a US mercantile exchange company, was convicted in 2015 of trade secret theft after stealing source code to set up a business in China. Yang had been president of the USA Association of Chinese Scientists and Engineers, which frequently meets with united front officials, and served on an advisory committee to the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office.207
In 2006, Yang visited Beijing for a ‘young overseas Chinese leaders’ united front training course.208
During the course, he said that his employer would never outsource work on its proprietary source code, but that ‘everyone is still looking for a suitable entrepreneurial opportunity to return to China.’ Three years after the training course, an opportunity may have presented itself when he met an investment and talent recruitment delegation from a Chinese county government. The source code he later stole, some of which he sent to the county government, was meant to help grow the business he established in the county’s free trade zone.209
More than a dozen groups in Australia are involved in technology transfer and talent recruitment work for the Chinese Government.210 For example, the Federation of Chinese Scholars in Australia (全澳华人专家学者联合会) was established in 2004 to promote scientific exchange between Australia and China. Its organising meeting was held in the PRC Embassy’s Education Office. Speaking at its founding, the Chinese Ambassador expressed her hope that its ‘experts and scholars would be able to transfer advanced technology achievements to China.’211 The federation and many of its members are associated with united front system organs, such as the WRSA.212 Its hundreds of members include several senior university officials and professors, most of whom have joined Chinese government talent recruitment programs.
Data collection
United front work is supported by the united front system’s growing use of information technology.
United front groups can build databases that may support the CCP’s political influence and technology-transfer efforts. For example, the Melbourne Huaxing Arts Group (墨尔本华兴艺术团) writes biannual reports back to the UFWD, keeps a database of political figures, public figures, and community groups, and has internal ‘secrecy regulations’.213 One part of the united front system even claims to hold data on 2.2 million ethnic Chinese scientists abroad.214 The Chinese Government has also provided overseas united front groups with lists of possible members, such as Chinese PhD students in America who have the same home town, to help their expansion.215
United front agencies are encouraged to take advantage of the internet and big data in their work.216
In November 2019, the UFWD partnered with the Central Cyberspace Administration to hold the first-ever meeting for united front work on ‘online figures’ such as social media influencers and live-streamers.217
Think tanks
The UFWD seeks to engage with foreign think tanks through the WRSA, which is the primary united front group for Chinese scientists and scholars who have lived abroad. The association’s secretary-general is a UFWD official, and it’s described as a ‘united front system work unit’.218 The association is active in both influence and technology-transfer efforts. It holds international think tank forums while also playing a key role in the Thousand Talents Plan—a CCP recruitment scheme for overseas scientists that’s been linked to economic espionage.219
One of the WRSA’s most successful activities has been the establishment of the Center for China and Globalization (CCG, 中国与全球化智库), which claims to be an independent think tank.220 The centre is headed by Wang Huiyao (王辉耀), a prominent international commentator who is also an adviser to the UFWD, a member of several united front groups and an important figure in the development of China’s talent recruitment strategy.221
Wang’s united front links first attracted widespread attention when he was scheduled to speak at a May 2018 Wilson Center panel on CCP influence. The event’s description didn’t mention his position in the united front system and claimed that discussions on CCP influence were ‘often poorly defined, exaggerated, and abused.’222 After Senator Marco Rubio wrote a letter to the Wilson Center asking it to disclose Wang’s united front links, Wang pulled out of the panel.223
But, since then, several Australian politicians have been taken to visit the CCG. In both 2018 and 2019, Australian NGO China Matters took several Australian politicians on trips to China, where they met with people from the centre.224 Australia’s then shadow treasurer repeated the CCG’s claim of being China’s largest independent think tank in a press release about the trip.225 On one of these trips, participants were also taken to meet the assistant president of the MSS’s University of International Relations.226 In 2019, Australia’s Trade Minister also gave a speech at the think tank.227
Aside from using the WRSA to engage with think tanks and scholars, united front figures have established and funded overseas think tanks. Thai united front figure Dhanin Chearavanont (谢国民), who is regularly given the seat of honour at major united front events, established Georgetown University’s Initiative for US–China Dialogue on Global Issues.228 A foundation run by Tung Chee-hwa (董建华), a vice chair of the CPPCC and former chief executive of Hong Kong, has funded research at several prominent American think tanks, including the Brookings Institution and the Center for Strategic and International Studies.229 The University of Texas turned down funding from the foundation after commentators highlighted Tung’s united front links.230
Chinese students and scholars associations
Overseas Chinese students, as well as returnees from abroad, have long been a target of united front work. This was reiterated in 2015 when Xi Jinping designated them a ‘new focus of united front work’.231 These efforts seek to maintain the CCP’s influence over Chinese students even when they are overseas and ensure that some can be mobilised when needed.
Chinese students and scholars associations (CSSAs) are the primary platform for united front work on overseas students. Most CSSAs operate under the guidance of Chinese embassies and consulates.232
A 2013 People’s Daily article describes Australian CSSAs as ‘completing their missions … under the direct guidance of the Embassy’s Education Office’.233 Globally, they have become the dominant bodies claiming to represent Chinese students at universities. At the same time as they provide useful services to students, CSSA executives have also been found reporting on dissident students, organising rallies and promotional events in coordination with the Chinese Government and its talent recruitment programs, and enforcing censorship.234
CSSAs primarily interact with Chinese Ministry of Education officials, but there’s evidence that this is a form of united front work carried out by the Ministry of Education. For example, Korea University’s CSSA claims on its website that the UFWD is responsible for ‘overall guidance on overseas student associations’.235 This is supported by a 2013 statement made by China’s Ambassador to Australia, who urged ‘outstanding CSSA cadres’ to study Xi Jinping’s remarks on the 100th anniversary of the founding of the UFWD-run WRSA.236 A UFWD deputy bureau chief was posted as the education attaché in Chicago between 2013 and 2016, indicating substantial overlap between the work of Chinese education officials abroad and UFWD cadres.237 In 2011, the UFWD led a delegation of Ministry of Education and university officials to the UK to study the establishment of associations for Chinese students, meeting with the chairman of the CSSA-UK.238 The CSSA-UK, a peak body for Chinese students in the UK, is a member organisation of the WRSA.239
Recommendations
Responses to united front work must engage governments, civil society and ethnic Chinese communities. They should seek to couple punitive measures for agents of interference with a positive agenda of support for and engagement with communities affected by united front work. Effective efforts to counter foreign interference are essential to protect genuine participation in politics by ethnic Chinese citizens. Counter-interference work can complement engagement with the PRC when carried out properly by helping to ensure that it aligns with national interests and isn’t used as a platform for interference.
This report recommends that governments pursue the following measures.
1. Recognise and understand the problem
Carry out detailed studies of united front work across the country as well as in specific sectors or regions.
Develop analytical capacity in government and the private sector for tracking and responding to foreign interference.
2. Develop high-level guidance and policy on countering foreign interference, issuing statements, policy documents and funding to establish it as a priority across relevant parts of the bureaucracy
3. Raise awareness of united front work and foreign interference
Effectively implement transparency-building measures such as the Foreign Influence Transparency Scheme.
Political leaders should improve how they frame efforts to counter foreign interference, making clear that they are not targeting minority communities, and seek to publicly attribute major cases of foreign interference.
Intelligence agencies should produce regular case studies and public reports on political interference threats, naming and describing the activities of major actors.
Intelligence agencies should increase their outreach to influential figures, such as retired politicians.
Expand intergovernmental channels for discussing foreign interference.
4. Ensure that legislation, resourcing and political will exist to build transparency and prosecute agents of interference
Existing laws and policies on espionage, foreign agents, external employment, conflicts of interest and foreign interference must be enforced.
Laws that introduce criminal offences for foreign interference and seek to expand transparency, such as registers of foreign agents, should be introduced and refined.
Ban foreign political donations where they are currently permitted.
Introduce real-time reporting of political donations.
Agencies responsible for investigating and prosecuting cases of interference must be sufficiently resourced.
Ban accepting support from or providing material support to foreign interference agencies (in addition to intelligence and security agencies).
Australia should reform its defamation laws, such as by introducing a national security defence.
The Australian Public Service should introduce and enforce a unified conflict of interest and external employment policy.
5. Protect those exposing interference
Police should be trained to handle and respond to politically motivated stalking and harassment.
Establish and promote reporting mechanisms for foreign interference.
6. Engage with universities to develop responses to related issues, such as monitoring and mobilisation by Chinese Government-backed student associations, technology transfer, economic coercion and censorship
7. Support and engage Chinese diaspora communities
Politicians and public officials should seek to engage with independent Chinese community groups and avoid legitimising united front groups and figures.
Politicians and public officials should ensure that they use precise language that distinguishes between ethnic Chinese communities, Chinese citizens and the Chinese Communist Party, as explained in John Fitzgerald’s report for ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre, Mind your tongue.240
Support new and independent Chinese community groups.
Emerging independent Chinese civil society groups must be priorities for protection from interference.
Security, migration and homeland affairs agencies should hold workshops and produce targeted, multilingual informational materials on interference.
Support independent Chinese-language media.
Ensure the independence of government Chinese-language media, such as Australia’s SBS Mandarin.
Award grants to independent Chinese-language media.
Place government notices in independent Chinese-language media outlets as a way to provide advertising funding to them.
Pay for local outlets to have the right to republish articles from independent Chinese-language media outlets in Hong Kong or Taiwan.
Establish scholarships for Chinese students to study journalism.
Explore ways to ensure freedom of speech and freedom from surveillance on WeChat, including through legislation.
8. Build expertise on China, Chinese people, the CCP and foreign interference
Commission and sponsor research on foreign interference and the CCP.
Fund research institutions to establish courses and workshops on foreign interference and the CCP.
Invest in greater Chinese-language training in schools, universities and government.
9. Deny visas for or expel agents of foreign interference
Visa applications by united front system officials and united front figures should be approached with a presumption of denial.
Foreign nationals, including diplomats, shown to have been involved in foreign interference should be expelled.
Appendix 1: Leaders of the United Front Work Department
You Quan (尤权)
Member of the Central Secretariat and UFWD minister (2017 – present); probably deputy head of the Central United Front Work Leading Small Group
Born in Hebei Province in January 1954
Party Secretary of Fujian Province (2012–2017)
Deputy secretary-general of the State Council (2008–2012)
Chairman of the State Electricity Regulatory Commission (2006–2008)
Ba Te’er (巴特尔)
UFWD deputy minister; vice chairman of the CPPCC; director of the State Ethnic Affairs Commission (2016 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Liaoning Province in 1955
Ethnic Mongolian
Deputy Party Secretary of Inner Mongolia (2009–2016)
Zhang Yijiong (张裔炯)
UFWD senior deputy minister (2012 – present), overseeing the day-to-day operation of the department; member of the Central Committee
Born in Shanghai in 1955
Worked in Qinghai Province from 1972 to 2006
Deputy Party Secretary of Tibet (2006–2010)
Secretary of the Political and Legal Affairs Commission of Tibet (2010)
Xu Yousheng (许又声)
UFWD deputy minister; director of the State Council Overseas Chinese Affairs Office (2018 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Fujian Province in 1957
Apart from a period in the Party Committee of Hunan Province (2012–2017), has worked mostly in the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office since 1982
Xu Lejiang (徐乐江)
UFWD deputy minister; party secretary and senior deputy chairman of the All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce (2017 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Shandong Province in 1959
Worked in China Baowu Steel Group, one of the world’s largest steel manufacturers from 1982 to 2016; chairman and party secretary from 2014 to 2016
Ministry of Industry and Information Technology vice minister (2016–2017)
Wang Zuo’an (王作安)
UFWD deputy minister (2018 – present); director of the State Administration for Religious Affairs
Born in Jiangsu Province in 1958
UFWD policy researcher (1983–1987)
State Administration for Religious Affairs official (1987–present)
Author of China’s religious issues and policies (中国的宗教问题和宗教政策) (2002
Tan Tianxing (谭天星)
UFWD deputy minister (2018 – present), responsible for international united front work.
Born in Hunan Province in 1963
Worked in the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office and the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese from 1991 to 2018
Attaché at the Chinese Embassy in Washington DC (1998–2002)
PhD in history from Peking University (1991)
Author of Reflections on history (历史的思考) (2015)
Shi Jun (侍俊)
UFWD deputy minister (2018 – present); director of the Office of the Central Coordinating Small Group on Xinjiang Work (中央新疆工 作协调小组).
Born in Jiangsu Province in 1962
Worked in Sichuan Province from 1978 to 2016
Party Secretary of Ngaba County (2007–2012); oversaw a crackdown on Tibetan Buddhism that led to a wave of self-immolations
Sichuan Province Public Security Bureau chief (2013–2015)
Central Political and Legal Commission deputy secretary-general (2016–2017)
Ministry of Public Security vice minister (2017–2018)
Zhou Xiaoying (周小莹)
Central Commission for Discipline Inspection representative in the UFWD (2018 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Yunnan Province in 1960
Worked in Qinghai Province (1975–2008)
Central Commission for Discipline Inspection representative in the State Ethnic Affairs Commission (2016–2018)
Zou Xiaodong (邹晓东)
UFWD vice minister (2018 – present); National People’s Congress delegate; responsible for united front work on intellectuals, scientists and universities
Born in Shandong Province in 1967
Worked and studied at Zhejiang University (1984–2018), apart from a period as deputy director of the Zhejiang Provincial Organisation Department (2016–2017)
Party Secretary of Zhejiang University (2017–2018)
Sources: All information and images taken from the UFWD’s website, online or Joske, The Central United Front Work Leading Small Group: institutionalising united front work, Sinopsis, 23 July 2019, online.
Appendix 2: National-level social organisations run by the UFWD or its subordinate agencies
The Ministry of Civil Affairs’ database of officially registered social organisations recorded the groups listed here in August 2019.241 These groups claim to be NGOs but are registered under various united front agencies.
On 11 August 2019, in addition to the organisations listed here, the Ministry of Civil Affairs database also recorded 5,432 organisations registered to local religious affairs bureaus, 3,089 registered to local UFWDs, 324 registered to local returned overseas Chinese federations (归国华侨联合会 )and 288 registered to local overseas Chinese affairs offices (侨务办公室).
Registered under the United Front Work Department
China Warmth Project Foundation (中华同心温暖工程基金会)
Elion Green Foundation (亿利公益基金会)
Oceanwide Foundation (泛海公益基金会)
China Overseas Study Talent Development Foundation (中国留学人才发展基金会)
Across the Strait Taiwanese Exchange Association (两岸台胞民间交流促进会)
China Foundation for Guangcai Program (中国光彩事业基金会)
China Glory Society (中国光彩事业促进会)
China Association for Preservation and Development of Tibetan Culture (中国西藏文化保护与发展协会)
China Sun Yat-sen Cultural Exchange Association (中华中山文化交流协会)
China Civil Chamber of Commerce (中国民间商会)
Wu Zuoren International Foundation of Fine Arts (吴作人国际美术基金会)
China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification (中国和平统一促进会)
Alumni Association of the Huangpu Military Academy (黄埔军校同学会)
China Overseas Friendship Association (中华海外联谊会)
China Association of Zen Tea (中国茶禅学会)
China Research Association of the 1911 Revolution (中国辛亥革命研究会)
Chinese Private Economy Research Association (中国民营经济研究会)
Chou Pei-yuan Foundation (周培源基金会)
China United Front Theory Research Association (中国统一战线理论研究会)
Taiwan Scholar Association (台湾同学会)
Western Returned Scholars Association / Overseas-educated Scholars Association of China (欧美同学会/中国留学人员联谊会)
China Siyuan Foundation for Poverty Alleviation (中华思源工程扶贫基金会)
The UFWD also runs the All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce (中华全国工商业联合会), the All-China Federation of Taiwan Compatriots (中华全国台湾同胞联谊会), the China Soong Ching Ling Foundation (中国宋庆龄基金会) and the China Vocational Education Association (中华职业教育 社); however, these are referred to as ‘united front system work units’ and are not social organisations registered under the Ministry of Civil Affairs.242
Registered under the State Administration for Religious Affairs
Buddhist Compassion Relief Tzu Chi Foundation (慈济慈善事业基金会)
China Religious Culture Communication Association (中华宗教文化交流协会)
Buddhist Association of China (中国佛教协会)
Bishops Conference of the Catholic Church in China (中国天主教主教团)
National Committee of Three-Self Patriotic Movement of the Protestant Churches in China (中国基督教三自爱国运动委员会)
China Christian Council (中国基督教协会)
China Islamic Association (中国伊斯兰教协会)
Chinese Patriotic Catholic Association (中国天主教爱国会)
Taoist Association of China (中国道教协会)
Young Men’s Christian Association of China(中华基督教青年会全国协会 )
Young Women’s Christian Association of China (中华基督教女青年会全国协会)
Registered under the All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce
China Cultural Chamber of Commerce for the Private Sector (中国民营文化产业商会)
National Federation of Industry and Agriculture Industry Chamber of Commerce (全联农业产业商会)
China Chamber of Commerce for Metallurgical Enterprises (全联冶金商会)
China Environment Service Industry Association (全联环境服务业商会)
China Real Estate Chamber of Commerce (全联房地产商会)
China Education Investors Chamber of Commerce (全联民办教育出资者商会)
China International Chamber of Commerce for the Private Sector (中国民营经济国际合作商会)
China Science and Technology Equipment Industry Chamber of Commerce (全联科技装备业商会)
China Mergers and Acquisitions Association (全联并购公会)
Chamber of Folk Culture Artefacts and Artworks (全联民间文物艺术品商会)
China Book Trade Chamber of Commerce (全联书业商会)
China New Energy Chamber of Commerce (全联新能源商会)
China Chamber of Tourism (全联旅游业商会)
China Urban Infrastructure Chamber of Commerce (全联城市基础设施商会)
China–Africa Business Council (中非民间商会)
Registered under the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference
Silk Road Planning Research Center (丝路规划研究中心)
China Institute of Theory on the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (中国人民政协理论研究会)
China Economic and Social Council (中国经济社会理事会)
China Committee on Religion and Peace (中国宗教界和平委员会)
Registered under the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office
China Overseas Exchange Association (中国海外交流协会)—now merged with China Overseas Friendship Association
China World Association for Chinese Literatures (中国世界华文文学学会)
Alumni Association of Huaqiao University (华侨大学校友会)
Heren Foundation (河仁慈善基金会)
China Language Education Foundation (中国华文教育基金会)
Registered under the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese
Overseas Chinese History Society of China (中国华侨历史学会)
Jinlongyu Charity Foundation (金龙鱼慈善公益基金会)
Silijiren Foundation (思利及人公益基金会)
Huang Yicong Charity Foundation (黄奕聪慈善基金会)
China Federation of Overseas Chinese Entrepreneurs (中国侨商联合会)
Overseas Chinese Charity Foundation of China (中国华侨公益基金会)
Overseas Chinese Literature and Art Association (中国华侨文学艺术家协会)
China Society of Overseas Chinese Photographers (中国华侨摄影学会)
China Association for International Cultural Exchanges with Overseas Chinese (中国华侨国际文化交流促进会)
Registered under the State Ethnic Affairs Commission
Alumni Association of the High School Affiliated to Minzu University of China (中央民族大学附中校友会)
Minzu University of China Alumni Association (中央民族大学校友会)
Chinese Association for Mongolian Studies (中国蒙古学学会)
China Ethnic Medicine Association (中国民族医药协会)
China Promoting Minority Culture & Art Association (中国少数民族文化艺术促进会)
Nationalities Unity and Progress Association of China (中华民族团结进步协会)
National Architecture Institute of China (中国民族建筑研究会)
Association for Promotion of West China Research and Development (中国西部研究与发展促进会)
China Ethnic Minorities’ Association for External Exchanges (中国少数民族对外交流协会)
Chinese Association for Ethnic Policy (中国民族政策研究会)
Korean-Chinese Scientists and Engineers Association (中国朝鲜族科技工作者协会 / 중국조선족과학기술자협회)
China Korean Language Society (中国朝鲜语学会)
Taiwanese Ethnic Minorities Research Association (台湾少数民族研究会)
China Association for Preservation of Ethnic Minorities’ Relics (中国少数民族文物保护协会)
China Korean Minority History Association (中国朝鲜民族史学会)
Academic Society of the History of Philosophical and Social Ideas in Chinese Minorities (中国少数民族哲学及社会思想史学会)
China Union of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences (中国人类学民族学研究会)
China Mongolian Studies Association (中国蒙古语文学会)
Economic Promotion Association of Longhai & Lanxin Railway (陇海兰新经济促进会)
Research Association of Bilingual Education for Chinese Minorities (中国少数民族双语教学研究会)
China Association of Ethnic Economy (中国少数民族经济研究会)
Citations and Notes
Readers are urged to download the report PDF for the full list of citations and notes.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Peter Mattis, John Garnaut, Lin Li, Jichang Lulu, Clive Hamilton, Robert Suettinger, Danielle Cave, Michael Shoebridge, Peter Jennings, Fergus Hanson, Fergus Ryan, Matt Schrader and Gerry Groot for their feedback and insights. In particular, Peter Mattis helped formulate the concept for this paper and I benefited enormously from related discussions with him. I would also like to thank Nathan Ruser for creating the map in Figure 4.
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of the Netherlands provided ASPI with AUD80,000 of funding, which was used towards this report.
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First published June 2020.
ISSN 2209-9689 (online), ISSN 2209-9670 (print)
In 2019, I studied and discussed the concept of the united front system together with Peter Mattis, then a visiting fellow at ASPI, and am deeply indebted to him for his analysis and insight on this issue. ↩︎
The Australian Security Intelligence Organisation Act 1979 (online) defines acts of foreign interference as activities taken on behalf of or in collaboration with a foreign power that involve a threat to any person or are clandestine or deceptive and carried out for intelligence purposes, for influencing government or political processes, or are otherwise detrimental to Australia’s interests. ↩︎
Xi Jinping, ‘Secure a decisive victory in building a moderately prosperous society in all respects and strive for the great success of socialism with Chinese characteristics for a new era’, speech delivered at the 19th National Congress of the CCP, 18 October 2017, online; See, for example, a former head of the CCP International Liaison Department’s comparison between domestic united front work and the CCP’s interactions with political parties around the world, discussed in Martin Hala, Jichang Lulu, The CCP’s model of social control goes global, Sinopsis, 20 December 2018, online. Julia Bowie and Nathanael Callan of the Center for Advanced China Research have also argued that China is offering the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC), the primary platform for the United Front, as a political model for other countries. See Julia Bowie, Nathanael Callan, China’s ‘new type of party system’: a ‘multiparty’ system for foreign consumption, Center for Advanced China Research, 21 August 2018, online. ↩︎
This point has also been made by independent researcher Jichang Lulu. See Jichang Lulu, Repurposing democracy: The European Parliament China Friendship Cluster, Sinopsis, 26 November 2019, online. ↩︎
Guo Lunde [郭伦德], ‘习近平引领统战工作进入新时代’ [Xi Jinping leads united front work into the new era], www.tibet.cn, 12 December 2017, online. ↩︎
‘海 外 华媒为战“疫”加油!’ [Overseas Chinese media cheers us on in the battle against the virus], ACFROC, 10 March 2020, online; ‘旅日侨团及华商华企侧援祖国疫情阻击战’ [Overseas Chinese groups in Japan as well as Chinese businesspersons and companies help the Fatherland’s battle against the virus], ACFROC, 7 February 2020, online; ‘悉尼华星艺术团团长余俊武:把抗疫之爱讲给世界听’ [Sydney Huaxing Arts Troupe leader Yu Junwu: Let the whole world hear our love in fighting the virus], ACFROC, 7 May 2020, online. ↩︎
‘中国侨联关于号召海内外侨胞为打赢“新型冠状病毒感染的肺炎”防控阻击战捐赠款物的倡议书’ [Proposal from the All‑China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese on rallying overseas and domestic Chinese compatriots for donations to achieve victory in the battle to prevent and stop the pneumonia spread by a novel coronavirus], Consulate‑General of the People’s Republic of China in Melbourne, 26 January 2020, online; ↩︎
‘中共中央印发《深化党和国家机构改革方案》’ [The CCP Central Committee issues ‘plan for deepening the party and state’s institutional reform’], Xinhua, 21 March 2018, online. ↩︎
Other forms of influence work carried out by the CCP, such as that carried out by the International Liaison Department, might not sit within the united front system, but can be described as using ‘united front tactics’ when they draw on the doctrines and principles of united front work. For example, united front tactics could involve the heavy use of front organisations and proxies, an emphasis on claiming representative power, and an emphasis on building interpersonal relationships with key representatives of targeted groups. Most Chinese party and state agencies run united front‑style groups that serve to co‑opt civil society and act as proxies for the CCP. For example, the International Liaison Department runs the Chinese Association for International Understanding (中国国际交流协会). ↩︎
The Cultural Revolution may have been the only extended period in which the party’s united front work largely stopped. ↩︎
‘中共中央印发《深化党和国家机构改革方案》’ [The CCP Central Committee issues ‘plan for deepening the party and state’s institutional reform’], Xinhua. ↩︎
‘关于“民主的联合战线”的议决案’ [About the ‘democratic united front’ decision], 中国共产党历次全国代表大会数据库 [Database of the CCP’s congresses], n.d., online. ↩︎
‘西安事变的由来’ [Origins of the Xi’an Incident], 中国统一战线新闻网[China United Front Online], 8 May 2014, online; 党政干部统一战线知识读本 [Party and government cadre: united front knowledge reader], 华文出版社 [Huawen Press], 2014, 35. ↩︎
China’s eight minor parties were formed in the years before 1949, but are all socialist and have ‘accepted the leadership of the Chinese Communist Party’. For a detailed study of these parties and the United Front, see Gerry Groot’s Managing transitions, 2004. The eight minor parties are the Jiusan Society, the China Democratic League, the China National Democratic Construction Association, the China Association for Promoting Democracy, the Chinese Peasants’ and Workers’ Democratic Party, the Revolutionary Committee of the Chinese Kuomintang, the China Zhi Gong Party, and the Taiwan Democratic Self‑Government League. These parties have different constituencies; for example, the China Zhi Gong Party was established in San Francisco as an alliance of overseas secret societies, and its members are overseas and returned overseas Chinese. See ‘中国共产党领导的多党合作是我国政治制度的一个特点和优点’ [Our country’s political system of multiparty cooperation under the CCP’s leadership is a special characteristic and advantage], 中央统战部网站[Central United Front Work Department], 8 January 2009, online; ‘中国共产党领导的多党合作和政治协商制度’ [The system of political consultation and multiparty cooperation under the leadership of the CCP], 中国政府网综合 [PRC Government Online], 27 July 2017, online. ↩︎
Gerry Groot, ‘Managing transitions: the Chinese Communist Party’s united front work, minor parties and groups, hegemony and corporatism’, PhD thesis, December 1997, online, 332–334. ↩︎
Groot, ‘Managing transitions: the Chinese Communist Party’s united front work, minor parties and groups, hegemony and corporatism’, 329, 340–341. ↩︎
党政干部统一战线知识读本 [Party and government cadre: united front knowledge reader], Huawen chubanshe, 2014, 80–104. ↩︎
See Groot, ‘Managing transitions: the Chinese Communist Party’s united front work, minor parties and groups, hegemony and corporatism’, 156–163, for a discussion of the CPPCC’s creation in 1948. ↩︎
Officially, the consultative system is ‘a democratic form and an institutional channel through which many things can be discussed and negotiated in a proper way’. See ‘What is a “new type of party system”?’, China.org.cn, 23 March 2018, online; In 2012, an American united front group specialising in educational exchanges even held what it claimed to be the world’s first ‘model CPPCC’ event: ‘Recap: The Ameson Foundation holds world’s first model CPPCC event’, Ameson, 2 August 2012, online. ↩︎
‘人民政协的组成和性质’ [The CPPCC’s make‑up and character], CPPCC, 14 September 2011, online. ↩︎
Hu Zhi’an [胡治安], ‘知名民主人士的中共党籍问题’ [The issue of CCP membership of well‑known democratic figures], Yanhuang chunqiu, online; Xiao Yu [萧雨], ‘解密时刻: 统战内幕—前中共干部亲述’ [Declassified moment: inside the United Front—a former CCP cadre’s own account], Voice of America, 23 June 2017, online. ↩︎
‘中国共产党的对外交往——访中联部原部长朱良’ [The CCP’s external engagement—interview with former International Liaison Department minister Zhu Liang], China National Radio, n.d., online; European scholars Martin Hála and Jichang Lulu have called the International Liaison Department a ‘new comintern’, expanding its activities to foreign ‘bourgeois’ parties: Martin Hála, Jichang Lulu, A new Comintern for the new era: the CCP International Department from Bucharest to Reykjavik, Sinopsis, 16 August 2018, online. ↩︎
Zhong Sheng, [钟声], ‘Op‑ed: China’s new type of party system enlightens world’, People’s Daily, 12 March 2018, online. ↩︎
Toshi Yoshihara, A profile of China’s United Front Work Department, Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, May 2018, 46–48, online. ↩︎
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/25192739/PB32-The-Party-speaks-for-you_banner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-06-09 06:00:002025-03-25 19:29:00The party speaks for you
Disaster risk reduction is a global policy issue. Reducing the likelihood and severity of damage and related cascading and cumulative impacts from natural hazards has become central to all nations and has triggered the evolution of international cooperation, multilateral responses and humanitarian aid efforts over many years.
The nexus between natural hazards and vulnerability is central to appreciating the scale of the damage caused by large disasters and resultant sociotechnical impacts. Multilateral efforts to mitigate the impacts of weather and climate hazards have progressed over time. The Yokohama Strategy for a Safer World: Guidelines for Natural Disaster Prevention, Preparedness and Mitigation was a harbinger for the Hyogo Framework for Action, which emphasised building the resilience of communities and nations to the effects of disasters, and the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction as the current flagship of unified effort.
Pacific island countries (PICs) have long been affected by weather-related disasters. Many PICs have been listed among the top 10 most disaster-prone countries in the World Risk Index over several years. In addition to damaging winds a convergence of flash flooding, king tides and high intensity rainfall contributed to damage to essential services, food supply and displacement of people across island economies.
This year marks the fifth year of applying the Sendai Framework to Disaster risk reduction efforts globally – completing one-third of the Framework’s operational life cycle. It seems an opportune time to take stock of the challenges faced by selected PICs in incorporating guidance from the Sendai Framework into policy, legislation and practice.
This report details independent views on challenges to implementing the Sendai Framework in eight Pacific economies. It does not pursue an in-depth analysis of constraints or impediments to implementation of the framework but seeks to present independent views on the ‘fit’ of the Sendai Framework to local needs in a general context of the Four priorities central to the Framework.
It hoped that it can contribute to ongoing discussion and thought about important issues in a vibrant yet vulnerable region.
Cybercrime is a serious threat facing Australia and the world, but this criminal activity is often wrongly viewed as a near invisible online phenomenon, rather than a ‘real world’ concern. Behind every attack sits one or more people in a physical location. Those people are products of particular socio-economic conditions, which influence the types of regional and local cybercrime activity they specialise in. Cybercrime isn’t evenly distributed around the globe, but is centred around hotspots, which offer potential breeding grounds or safe harbours from where offenders can strike. This is true in Australia’s own region, where some Southeast Asian countries are emerging as bases for serious regional, and even global, cybercrime threats. We’re not proactively tackling the locations where the cybercrime threat develops and matures.
What’s the solution?
Australia’s current approach to fighting cybercrime needs to be augmented to account more seriously for this local dimension, particularly in Southeast Asia, and our fight against cybercrime should be more targeted, enduring and forward-looking. While it makes sense to support international cooperation in the fight against cybercrime, those efforts need to be targeted to specific hotspots where the problem is the most acute and Australia’s contributions can provide the greatest value for money. This involves the identification of current or future cybercriminal hotspots within Australia’s near region.
Australia’s existing law enforcement capacity-building programs should be matched specifically to those countries producing the biggest cybercrime threat. Deeper relationships should also be developed between investigators in Australia and those countries through more cyber liaison posts and exchange programs. Finally, Australia should adopt prevention programs that seek to block offenders’ pathways into cybercrime and promote those programs to suitable cybercrime hotspots in the region.
Introduction
There’s a popular perception that cybercrime is an anonymous activity. With seemingly faceless attackers and so-called ‘darknet’ sites, a picture emerges of a threat unlike anything we’ve seen before.
But cybercrime shouldn’t generate this kind of paradigm shift. As Peter Grabosky astutely argued almost 20 years ago, it’s ‘old wine in new bottles’.1 The crime types—fraud, extortion, theft—remain the same; only the tools have changed. For the following analysis, I employ a broad definition: cybercrime is the ‘use of computers or other electronic devices via information systems such as organizational networks or the Internet to facilitate illegal behaviors’.2
The purpose of this report is to highlight how rooted in the conventional world cybercrime actually is. In many cases, there’s a strong offline dimension, along with a local one. All cyberattacks have one or more people behind them. Some of those offenders know each other in person. All are physically based somewhere and are the product of local socio-economic conditions. As a result, we see different ‘flavours’ of cybercrime coming out of different parts of the world. The specific focus of this analysis is on the nature of cybercrime within Southeast Asia and the local dynamics therein.
This report is structured in three parts. First, it outlines the nature of cybercrime as a local phenomenon, highlighting some of the most famous hubs around the world. Second, it zeroes in on the case of Southeast Asia. Finally, the report addresses potential policy solutions derived from this analysis, and particularly those that could be adopted by the Australian policy community.
The analysis contained in this report is informed not only by publications on cybercrime, but also by seven years of fieldwork carried out by the author in 20 countries. This involved interviews with 238 participants, including law enforcement agents, security professionals and former cybercriminals.3
Cybercrime as a local phenomenon
While cybercrime is often viewed essentially as an online and global phenomenon, it’s also an offline and local one.4 It’s true that many offenders participate in cybercrime so they can avoid real-world engagement with both their victims and their partners.5 For a number of others, though, the attacks on victims remain virtual, but they’re collaborating with cybercriminal partners in physical settings.
Sometimes they meet online first and later move their relationship into the corporeal world. In other cases, offenders know each other well already, perhaps coming from the same community, neighbourhood, university or school.6
While still a niche area of research, this offline dimension is slowly attracting the attention of the research community.7 But what really needs to be emphasised is the importance of local conditions in shaping local cybercrime.8 Cybercrime might be a universal problem, but certain countries appear to harbour a greater threat than others. These cybercriminal hubs often have particular specialities, as well.
It’s worth quickly sketching some of the most famous cybercrime hubs around the world. Perhaps the best known of all is the former Soviet Union. That region produces the most technically capable offenders within cybercrime, who are often responsible for developing top-level malware and other tools that are used throughout the industry.9 An excellent education system produces an oversupply of able technologists in the labour market, who then struggle to find opportunities in a weak technology industry.10
Another reputed cybercrime hub is Nigeria, which is known for far less technical forms of cybercrime.11
Nigerian cybercriminals have traditionally carried out ‘advance fee fraud’—the email scams familiar to users around the world.12 In more recent years, West African offenders have evolved. One growing threat is business email compromise, in which a scammer impersonates a CEO or other person to instruct an employee in the victim company to transfer funds into an account controlled by the criminals.13
There are a number of other cybercrime hubs around the world. While it’s beyond the scope of the present report to discuss them all, Table 1 summarises some of them in a simplified fashion. The next section addresses the particular dynamics of cybercrime in some Southeast Asian examples.
Table 1: Geographical specialisations
Source: Jonathan Lusthaus, Industry of anonymity: inside the business of cybercrime, Harvard University Press, page 77, 2018.
Cybercrime in Southeast Asia
Southeast Asia provides an interesting cybercrime case study, as it includes populations of both local and foreign offenders. While offenders are spread across the region, certain countries contain a larger cybercriminal threat than others. As a result, the analysis below is focused on two interesting examples that pose some of the greatest threat in the region: Vietnam and Malaysia. The discussion of Vietnam is centred on the local community of ‘black hat’ (criminal) hackers and the threat they pose. With regard to Malaysia, the physical presence of Nigerian fraudsters is the most relevant topic to examine.
Vietnam
While China, South Korea and North Korea rank higher, some rate Vietnam towards the top of general hacking capability in Asia.14 Even if only a proportion of the local hacker population turned towards crime, that would make Vietnam one of the most serious cybercriminal threats in Southeast Asia.
While some cybercriminals strike at home, Vietnam itself is not a target-rich environment, and major attacks there are not widely reported.15 One rare example was the Vietcombank case of 2016, in which 500 million dong (at writing about A$34,000) was extracted from a customer account.16
For those Vietnamese attacking overseas, credit card fraud has traditionally been a popular endeavour.17 The conventional business model has been to target ecommerce sites and steal the databases of credit card details. The cybercriminals can either sell the card data in virtual marketplaces or buy products online themselves and ship them back to Vietnam.18 The latter approach became increasingly difficult as ecommerce sites blocked some deliveries to Vietnam in response to this malicious activity, so the cybercriminals adapted and found overseas ‘mules’ who could receive items and then mail them on to Vietnam.19 Vietnamese cybercriminals have also engaged in personal data theft, compromising email and other account credentials, and a number of other schemes.
While it’s often important to make the point that cybercrime and hacking aren’t synonymous, in Vietnam the dominant form of cybercrime is tied to hacking. While some parts of the world are known for malware or fraud, Vietnamese cybercrime appears to have a strong focus on intrusions.20 This is likely to be tied to the local context, in which there’s a broader hacking culture and an ecosystem of Vietnamese forums alongside the international cybercriminal marketplaces. Education in computing and STEM disciplines more broadly is of a decent standard compared to that available in some other countries in the region, and there are recent efforts underway to improve it.21 There’s also fairly widespread corruption, which can shelter criminal activity. One former cybercriminal rated Vietnamese corruption ‘a good 8 of 10 points’.22
Vietnam is a significant location of cybercriminality, particularly by regional standards. While a number of factors suggest that it could become a major international cybercrime hub, there are other factors that may be preventing the greater spread of cybercrime there. One is that the level of technical proficiency is much lower than that found in other cybercrime hubs, such as a number of countries of the former Soviet Union.23 This means that the threat faced from Vietnamese cybercriminals is reduced. But there is also less of a push towards cybercrime in the first place, as job opportunities appear relatively robust. The Vietnamese economy has been growing in recent years.24 In particular, the technology sector is attracting investment and providing attractive salaries. There’s also a relatively established pipeline of top Vietnamese talent to foreign companies such as Google and Microsoft.25 While there remains a serious threat, these factors are probably keeping the problem of Vietnamese cybercrime from growing even further.
Malaysia
If the example of Vietnam is about local offenders striking internationally, the case of Malaysia is about foreign cybercriminals using that country as a base of operations. There is a community of local Malaysian cybercriminals, but the more pressing issue is the large presence of Nigerian fraudsters who have established themselves there.26 While Nigerian email scams are well known, many assume that the offenders are based in West Africa. There are indeed a number of offenders operating out of Nigeria, originally from inside internet cafes, and now making use of new mobile technology. But there are also Nigerian cybercriminals spread out across Africa and the world, including in the US, the UK, the Netherlands, India, the Philippines and Australia.27 Their presence in such countries can be for computing training, coordinating money-mule and other support operations, or running their own autonomous scam operations from those countries.28
Curiously, for some time Malaysia has hosted one of the largest concentrations of Nigerian fraudsters. It isn’t yet clear why this is such a fertile location, but it’s of growing concern, as perhaps many thousands of such offenders are running hugely profitable enterprises.29 These are relatively low-tech scams, such as business email compromise, but can be hugely damaging in their scale and impact. The modus operandi of Nigerian scammers in Malaysia is similar to that in other jurisdictions. A fraudster may arrive in Malaysia and find members of his existing social networks already there— almost always men—who may serve as suitable collaborators. This is similar to cybercriminals based in Nigeria, who appear to favour working with those whom they know already and have some form of personal connection with.30 Such an expat fraudster may also seek to involve some Malaysians into his scam. One surprisingly common tactic across the globe is to find a local girlfriend and use her knowledge, language and accent to enhance the scheme.31 For instance, a particular operation might contact victims suggesting that a parcel is waiting at an airport, but that the duty needs to be paid to release it. Having local knowledge means that the airport information and details can be checked for accuracy to avoid suspicion, and if a number is listed in the scam materials a Malaysian will answer the phone, rather than a West African.32
Policy recommendations for regional work against cybercrime
Australia’s existing approach to fighting cybercrime is built around enhancing international cooperation through increasing awareness, strengthening cybercrime legislation, law enforcement capacity building, and information sharing.33 Given the transnational nature of the threat, this is a sensible strategy, but it lacks specificity in its implementation, which could be more tactical and nuanced.
While cybercrime is an online and global threat, the Australian Government shouldn’t ignore the offline and local dimensions of the phenomenon. Cybercrime may be a universal problem, but some countries are more important hubs of cybercriminality than others. The status quo appears to be that any international action in this area is positive, regardless of where. But Australia will have greater success and make more cost-effective use of resources by targeting specific jurisdictions where cybercrime is a problem, with less focus on those places where the concern is limited. This potentially could be decided on the basis of the caseload of the Australian Federal Police (AFP) or intelligence, though other measures would also be possible. It’s likely that such assessments are already happening informally and internally, but they have yet to become part of a defined, sustained and published policy exercise.
Cybercrime might be different in each country, but the policy responses should usually be similar. The key task for governments such as Australia’s is less to determine what to do, but where to do it. The heart of this is to draw up a list of countries that pose the greatest cybercriminal threat to Australia, balanced against an assessment of where an Australian contribution might have the greatest effect. Given limits to resources and influence, it’s unlikely that Australia will take the lead in combating Eastern European cybercrime, though it should continue to support broader international efforts in that area (and might be wise to have a dedicated cybercrime liaison officer based somewhere within the former Soviet Bloc for that purpose).
Within Australia’s strategic backyard, Southeast Asia presents a clearer and more manageable challenge. Policymakers and practitioners have already had some cybercrime engagement with the region, with a broad focus on the ‘Indo-Pacific’.34 But, again, the true value is to be found not by addressing a large region as a whole, but by identifying particular cybercriminal hubs, or future hubs.
Vietnam and Malaysia are good places to start, but aren’t the only locations that should be evaluated.
For any chosen country, there needs to be a clear-eyed understanding of mutual benefit. Cybercrime is a universal problem. As internet usage and ecommerce in Southeast Asia grow, the number of local victims is also likely to grow. Australian law enforcement agencies have the skills, capacity and international connections to aid their regional partners in their own fight to protect their companies and citizens from cybercrime.
The following three recommendations continue Australia’s support for international cooperation on cybercrime, but ensure that it’s even more targeted, enduring and forward-looking.
Recommendation 1
Law enforcement capacity in the region has been improving but still has some way to go. For those countries that are facing large concentrations of cybercriminals, such as Malaysia, the challenge may overwhelm local capacity. When resources are limited, Southeast Asian countries may (reasonably) prioritise cases with local victims, rather than foreign ones.
Australia has a strong history of running cyber training programs in the region. Building on past efforts in this space, greater resources and further training opportunities for cyber-investigators in locations where the threat is the greatest should increase local capacity to take on cybercriminals. In places where corruption is a problem within law enforcement, greater support for anti-corruption programs may also be an asset.
Recommendation 2
Australian law enforcement can also play a greater role in supporting investigations in Southeast Asia.
This has already happened in individual cases,35 but building more enduring relationships is important. One of the most effective ways of achieving that is through liaison officers. Cross-border cases are often aided by having investigators who know each other’s systems, and may even know each other personally. High-level bureaucratic procedures can often get bogged down without agents at the coalface who can expedite the process. In those situations, trusted relationships can be important.
The best ways of building such relationships in Southeast Asia is to increase the number of opportunities for Australian agents to spend significant spells in the region and to provide similar opportunities for Southeast Asians in Australia. This can be achieved through the AFP, the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission (ACIC), or both, having dedicated cyber liaisons in Southeast Asia, particularly in cybercrime hubs that acknowledge the mutual benefits involved. With some exceptions, such as the Jakarta Cybercrime Centre, the focus thus far has been on placing cybercrime investigators and analysts with major allies such as the US and the UK, along with international policing bodies such as Europol.
Those partnerships are important to continue for broader intelligence sharing, but great value could also be gained by expanding the use of liaisons to build relationships with countries where substantial cybercriminal operations are based, and where such a presence would be welcomed.
Improving investigation partnerships can also be achieved by ensuring that generalist AFP and ACIC liaisons who are already posted to cybercrime hubs do have cybercrime as a clear and core part of their portfolio, and the training and resources to match. This might be particularly useful in cases like Malaysia, where online fraud is the primary cybercrime threat but doesn’t always fall inside (somewhat arbitrary) bureaucratic definitions of cybercrime. Increasing opportunities for police exchange programs, perhaps tied to the capacity-building efforts noted above, would also allow for greater networking opportunities between Australian cyber police officers and their Southeast Asian counterparts.
Recommendation 3
Australia must be forward-looking in its approach to cybercrime. This involves not only identifying future cybercrime hubs in the region, but also acting to block cybercriminal pathways in at-risk countries. Policing approaches based on ‘prevention’ are gaining traction globally. The UK is playing a leading role, and the Dutch police have also invested in this space. Such approaches are less reactive.
They rely on identifying young people who may become involved in serious offending and then intervening before prosecutions are required. Industry engagement is encouraged, with a clear goal of diverting young technologists to legitimate career paths.36
Cybercrime prevention strategies target the root causes of cybercrime, rather than dealing with the symptoms. These efforts should be supported, expanded and internationalised. Australia is well placed to establish a prevention program within the AFP and beyond, but the government shouldn’t stop there. Part of this program should involve evangelising these approaches to other countries as well, and Southeast Asia is a logical focus. But, again, countries where cybercrime is a particular concern should be targeted. Prevention programs also make much greater sense in states such as Vietnam, where the offenders are indigenous, rather than places such as Malaysia, which face foreign cybercriminals establishing a new base.
Cybercrime prevention in Southeast Asia must also involve private industry. In some nations, a major concern is that there are simply not enough good job opportunities in the technology sector. There’s a natural push for countries in the region to improve education in computing and cybersecurity, but if the supply of tech talent becomes too much, some of those individuals may turn to cybercrime. Australian Government prevention efforts should engage with companies in both Australia and Southeast Asia, encouraging partnerships, investment opportunities and job growth in local technology sectors. There may also be greater opportunities for skilled migration and labour mobility within the region. Those efforts might require the AFP to cooperate with other government agencies, such as the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Given that countries such as Vietnam have already shown that they have capable workforces and human capital that can be tapped, these programs should also be of direct benefit to Australian companies, beyond the broader aim of blocking local pathways into cybercrime.
Acknowledgements
This report is built on the insights and information provided by numerous interview participants, and could not have been written without them. I’m also very grateful to a number of colleagues for commenting on earlier drafts of this work, including Nigel Phair, Tala Stevens and a number of readers who prefer not to be named. I also thank the three peer reviewers for their thoughtful suggestions. Finally, great thanks must go to ASPI staff for their guidance, and particularly to Elise Thomas for coordinating this endeavour.
What is ASPI?
The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.
ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre
ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.
Important disclaimer
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in relation to the subject matter covered. It is provided with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering any form of professional or other advice or services. No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from a qualified professional.
This publication is subject to copyright. Except as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of it may in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, microcopying, photocopying, recording or otherwise) be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted without prior written permission. Enquiries should be addressed to the publishers. Notwithstanding the above, educational institutions (including schools, independent colleges, universities and TAFEs) are granted permission to make copies of copyrighted works strictly for educational purposes without explicit permission from ASPI and free of charge.
First published May 2020.
ISSN 2209-9689 (online) ISSN 2209-9670 (print)
Peter Grabosky, ‘Virtual criminality: old wine in new bottles?’, Social & Legal Studies, 2001, 10(2). ↩︎
Samuel C McQuade, Understanding and managing cybercrime, Allyn and Bacon, Boston, 2006, 16. ↩︎
For further detail, see Jonathan Lusthaus, Industry of anonymity: inside the business of cybercrime, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2018. ↩︎
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/28150142/PB29_Cybercrime-banner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-05-20 06:00:002025-03-28 15:41:41Cybercrime in Southeast Asia
‘Re-education’, forced labour and surveillance beyond Xinjiang.
What’s the problem?
The Chinese government has facilitated the mass transfer of Uyghur and other ethnic minority1 citizens from the far west region of Xinjiang to factories across the country. Under conditions that strongly suggest forced labour, Uyghurs are working in factories that are in the supply chains of at least 82 well-known global brands in the technology, clothing and automotive sectors, including Apple, BMW, Gap, Huawei, Nike, Samsung, Sony and Volkswagen.
This report estimates that more than 80,000 Uyghurs were transferred out of Xinjiang to work in factories across China between 2017 and 2019, and some of them were sent directly from detention camps.2 The estimated figure is conservative and the actual figure is likely to be far higher. In factories far away from home, they typically live in segregated dormitories,3 undergo organised Mandarin and ideological training outside working hours,4 are subject to constant surveillance, and are forbidden from participating in religious observances.5 Numerous sources, including government documents, show that transferred workers are assigned minders and have limited freedom of movement.6
China has attracted international condemnation for its network of extrajudicial ‘re-education camps’ in Xinjiang.7 This report exposes a new phase in China’s social re-engineering campaign targeting minority citizens, revealing new evidence that some factories across China are using forced Uyghur labour under a state-sponsored labour transfer scheme that is tainting the global supply chain.
What’s the solution?
The Chinese government should uphold the civic, cultural and labour rights enshrined in China’s Constitution and domestic laws, end its extrajudicial detention of Uyghurs and other Muslim minorities in Xinjiang, and ensure that all citizens can freely determine the terms of their own labour and mobility.
Companies using forced Uyghur labour in their supply chains could find themselves in breach of laws which prohibit the importation of goods made with forced labour or mandate disclosure of forced labour supply chain risks.8 The companies listed in this report should conduct immediate and thorough human rights due diligence on their factory labour in China, including robust and independent social audits and inspections. It is vital that through this process, affected workers are not exposed to any further harm, including involuntary transfers.
Foreign governments, businesses and civil society groups should identify opportunities to increase pressure on the Chinese government to end the use of Uyghur forced labour and extrajudicial detentions. This should include pressuring the government to ratify the International Labour Organization’s (ILO) Convention on Forced Labour, 1930 (No. 29) and Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention.9 Consumers and consumer advocacy groups should demand companies that manufacture in China conduct human rights due diligence on their supply chains in order to ensure that they uphold basic human rights and are not complicit in any coercive labour schemes.
Executive summary
Since 2017, more than a million Uyghurs and members of other Turkic Muslim minorities have disappeared into a vast network of ‘re-education camps’ in the far west region of Xinjiang,10 in what some experts call a systematic, government-led program of cultural genocide.11 Inside the camps, detainees are subjected to political indoctrination, forced to renounce their religion and culture and, in some instances, reportedly subjected to torture.12 In the name of combating ‘religious extremism’,13 Chinese authorities have been actively remoulding the Muslim population in the image of China’s Han ethnic majority.
The ‘re-education’ campaign appears to be entering a new phase, as government officials now claim that all ‘trainees’ have ‘graduated’.14 There is mounting evidence that many Uyghurs are now being forced to work in factories within Xinjiang.15 This report reveals that Chinese factories outside Xinjiang are also sourcing Uyghur workers under a revived, exploitative government-led labour transfer scheme.16 Some factories appear to be using Uyghur workers sent directly from ‘re-education camps’.
The Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI) has identified 27 factories in nine Chinese provinces that are using Uyghur labour transferred from Xinjiang since 2017. Those factories claim to be part of the supply chain of 82 well-known global brands.17 Between 2017 and 2019, we estimate that at least 80,000 Uyghurs were transferred out of Xinjiang and assigned to factories through labour transfer programs under a central government policy known as ‘Xinjiang Aid’ (援疆).18
It is extremely difficult for Uyghurs to refuse or escape these work assignments, which are enmeshed with the apparatus of detention and political indoctrination both inside and outside of Xinjiang.19 In addition to constant surveillance, the threat of arbitrary detention hangs over minority citizens who refuse their government-sponsored work assignments.20
Most strikingly, local governments and private brokers are paid a price per head by the Xinjiang provincial government to organise the labour assignments.21 The job transfers are now an integral part of the ‘re-education’ process, which the Chinese government calls ‘vocational training’.22
A local government work report from 2019 reads: ‘For every batch [of workers] that is trained, a batch of employment will be arranged and a batch will be transferred. Those employed need to receive thorough ideological education and remain in their jobs.’23
This report examines three case studies in which Uyghur workers appear to be employed under forced labour conditions by factories in China that supply major global brands. In the first case study, a factory in eastern China that manufactures shoes for US company Nike is equipped with watchtowers, barbed-wire fences and police guard boxes. The Uyghur workers, unlike their Han counterparts, are reportedly unable to go home for holidays (see page 8). In the second case study of another eastern province factory claiming to supply sportswear multinationals Adidas and Fila, evidence suggests that Uyghur workers were transferred directly from one of Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’ (see page 18). In the third case study, we identify several Chinese factories making components for Apple or their suppliers using Uyghur labour. Political indoctrination is a key part of their job assignments (see page 21).
This research report draws on open-source Chinese-language documents, satellite imagery analysis, academic research and on-the-ground media reporting. It analyses the politics and policies behind the new phase of the Chinese government’s ongoing repression of Uyghurs and other Muslim minorities. It provides evidence of the exploitation of Uyghur labour and the involvement of foreign and Chinese companies, possibly unknowingly, in human rights abuses.
In all, ASPI’s research has identified 82 foreign and Chinese companies potentially directly or indirectly benefiting from the use of Uyghur workers outside Xinjiang through abusive labour transfer programs as recently as 2019: Abercrombie & Fitch, Acer, Adidas, Alstom, Amazon, Apple, ASUS, BAIC Motor, Bestway, BMW, Bombardier, Bosch, BYD, Calvin Klein, Candy, Carter’s, Cerruti 1881, Changan Automobile, Cisco, CRRC, Dell, Electrolux, Fila, Founder Group, GAC Group (automobiles), Gap, Geely Auto, General Motors, Google, Goertek, H&M, Haier, Hart Schaffner Marx, Hisense, Hitachi, HP, HTC, Huawei, iFlyTek, Jack & Jones, Jaguar, Japan Display Inc., L.L.Bean, Lacoste, Land Rover, Lenovo, LG, Li-Ning, Mayor, Meizu, Mercedes-Benz, MG, Microsoft, Mitsubishi, Mitsumi, Nike, Nintendo, Nokia, Oculus, Oppo, Panasonic, Polo Ralph Lauren, Puma, SAIC Motor, Samsung, SGMW, Sharp, Siemens, Skechers, Sony, TDK, Tommy Hilfiger, Toshiba, Tsinghua Tongfang, Uniqlo, Victoria’s Secret, Vivo, Volkswagen, Xiaomi, Zara, Zegna, ZTE. Some brands are linked with multiple factories.
The data is based on published supplier lists, media reports, and the factories’ claimed suppliers. ASPI reached out to these 82 brands to confirm their relevant supplier details. Where companies responded before publication, we have included their relevant clarifications in this report. If any company responses are made available after publication of the report, we will address these online.
ASPI notes that a small number of brands advised they have instructed their vendors to terminate their relationships with these suppliers in 2020. Others, including Adidas, Bosch and Panasonic, said they had no direct contractual relationships with the suppliers implicated in the labour schemes, but no brands were able to rule out a link further down their supply chain.
The report includes an appendix that details the factories involved and the brands that appear to have elements of forced Uyghur labour in their supply chains. It also makes specific recommendations for the Chinese government, companies, foreign governments and civil society organisations.
Citations and notes
Readers are encouraged to download the PDF to access the full and extensive citations and notes that accompany this report.
Forced Uyghur labour
The ILO lists 11 indicators of forced labour.24 Relevant indicators in the case of Uyghur workers may include:
being subjected to intimidation and threats, such as the threat of arbitrary detention, and being monitored by security personnel and digital surveillance tools
being placed in a position of dependency and vulnerability, such as by threats to family members back in Xinjiang
having freedom of movement restricted, such as by fenced-in factories and high-tech surveillance
isolation, such as living in segregated dormitories and being transported in dedicated trains
abusive working conditions, such as political indoctrination, police guard posts in factories, ‘military-style’ management, and a ban on religious practices
excessive hours, such as after-work Mandarin language classes and political indoctrination sessions that are part of job assignments.25
Chinese state media claims that participation in labour transfer programs is voluntary, and Chinese officials have denied any commercial use of forced labour from Xinjiang.26 However, Uyghur workers who have been able to leave China and speak out describe the constant fear of being sent back to a detention camp in Xinjiang or even a traditional prison while working at the factories.27
In factories outside Xinjiang, there is evidence that their lives are far from free. Referred to as ‘surplus labour’ (富余劳动力) or ‘poverty-stricken labour’ (贫困劳动力), Uyghur workers are often transported across China in special segregated trains,28 and in most cases are returned home by the same method after their contracts end a year or more later.29
Multiple sources suggest that in factories across China, many Uyghur workers lead a harsh, segregated life under so-called ‘military-style management’ (军事化管理).30 Outside work hours, they attend factory-organised Mandarin language classes, participate in ‘patriotic education’,31 and are prevented from practising their religion.32 Every 50 Uyghur workers are assigned one government minder and are monitored by dedicated security personnel.33 They have little freedom of movement and live in carefully guarded dormitories, isolated from their families and children back in Xinjiang.34 There is also evidence that, at least in some factories, they are paid less than their Han counterparts,35 despite state media claims that they’re paid attractive wages.36
The Chinese authorities and factory bosses manage Uyghur workers by ‘tracking’ them both physically and electronically.37 One provincial government document describes a central database, developed by Xinjiang’s Human Resources and Social Affairs Department and maintained by a team of 100 specialists in Xinjiang, that records the medical, ideological and employment details of each labourer.38
The database incorporates information from social welfare cards that store workers’ personal details. It also extracts information from a WeChat39 group and an unnamed smartphone app that tracks the movements and activities of each worker.40
Chinese companies and government officials also pride themselves on being able to alter their Uyghur workers’ ideological outlook and transform them into ‘modern’ citizens, who, they say, become ‘more physically attractive’41 and learn to ‘take daily showers’.42
In some cases, local governments in Xinjiang send Chinese Communist Party (CCP) cadres to simultaneously surveil workers’ families back home in Xinjiang43— a reminder to workers that any misbehaviour in the factory will have immediate consequences for their loved ones and further evidence that their participation in the program is far from voluntary.
A person with knowledge of a Uyghur labour transfer program in Fujian told Bitter Winter, a religious and human rights NGO, that the workers were all former ‘re-education camp’ detainees and were threatened with further detention if they disobeyed the government’s work assignments.44 A Uyghur person sent to work in Fujian also told the NGO that police regularly search their dormitories and check their phones for any religious content. If a Quran is found, the owner will be sent back to the ‘re-education camp’ for 3–5 years.45
The treatment of Uyghurs described in this report’s case studies is in breach of China’s Constitution, which prohibits discrimination based on ethnicity or religious belief,46 as well as international law. While we are unable to confirm that all employment transfers from Xinjiang are forced, the cases for which adequate detail has been available showcase highly disturbing coercive labour practices consistent with ILO definitions of forced labour.
Case study 1: Uyghur workers making Nike sneakers in Qingdao
Figure 1: Uyghur workers at Taekwang Shoe Manufacturing waving the Chinese flag, October 2019
Source: ‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019, online.
In January 2020, around 600 ethnic minority workers from Xinjiang were employed at Qingdao Taekwang Shoes Co. Ltd (青岛泰光制鞋有限公司).47 Taekwang’s primary customer is the American multinational company Nike Incorporated.48 The Xinjiang workers are mostly Uyghur women from Hotan and Kashgar prefectures, which are remote parts of southern Xinjiang that the Chinese government has described as ‘backward’ and ‘disturbed by religious extremism’.49
At the factory, the Uyghur labourers make Nike shoes during the day. In the evening, they attend a night school where they study Mandarin, sing the Chinese national anthem and receive ‘vocational training’ and ‘patriotic education’.50 The curriculum closely mirrors that of Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’.51
The sprawling Taekwang factory compound is located in Laixi City, to the north of Qingdao in China’s Shandong province, and is owned by the Taekwang Group, a South Korean chemical and textile conglomerate (chaebol). Taekwang’s Laixi factory is one of the largest manufacturers of shoes for Nike,52 producing more than seven million pairs for the American brand annually.53
Figure 2: Taekwang supply chain
Source: A Laixi government committee press release stated that 9,800 Uyghur workers were transferred to Qingdao Taekwang Shoes in ‘more than 60 batches’ since 2007. ‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019, online.
In June 2019, at the opening ceremony of the Taekwang night school, a government official from the local United Front Work Department54 office called on Uyghur workers to strengthen their identification with the state and the nation.55 The school is called the ‘Pomegranate Seed’ Night School (Figure 3), referencing a speech by Chinese President Xi Jinping in which he said ‘every ethnic group must tightly bind together like the seeds of a pomegranate.’56
Figure 3: Opening ceremony of ‘Pomegranate Seed’ Night School for ethnic minorities at Taekwang factory, June 2019
Source: ‘Municipal United Front Work Department’s “Pomegranate Seed” Night School: a look into Qingdao Taekwang’s Mandarin classes’ (市委统战部’石榴籽’夜校 走进青岛泰光举办普通话培训班), Laixi United Front (莱西统一战线), WeChat, 1 July 2019, online.
The Washington Post has reported that Uyghurs working at the factory were not allowed to go home for holidays.57
The newspaper also reported that Uyghur workers at the factory were sent there by the Xinjiang government, they did not choose to come to Qingdao, and that they were unable to practice their religion.
Photographs of the factory in January 2020 published by the newspaper show that the complex was equipped with watchtowers, razor wire and inward-facing barbed-wire fences. Uyghur workers were free to walk in the streets around the factory compound, but their comings and goings were closely monitored by a police station at the side gate equipped with facial recognition cameras.
The Uyghur workers at the Taekwang factory speak almost no Mandarin, so communication with locals is largely non-existent, according to the newspaper. They eat in a separate canteen or a Muslim restaurant across the road from the factory, where the ‘halal’ signs have been crossed out. They live in buildings next to the factory that are separate quarters from those of the Han workers.58
ASPI found evidence that inside the factories, the workers’ ideology and behaviour are closely monitored. At a purpose-built ‘psychological dredging office’ (心理疏导室), Han and Uyghur officials from Taekwang’s local women’s federation conduct ‘heart-to-heart’ talks, provide psychological consulting and assist in the uplifting of the ‘innate quality’ (素质) of the Uyghur workers—in order to aid their integration.59 Those offices and roles are also present in Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’.60
Figure 4: A study room called ‘Home of the Youth’ for ethnic minority workers at the Taekwang factory
Source: ‘Blessed are those who work here in Laixi!’ (在莱西这里上班的人有福了!), In the palm of Laixi (掌上莱西), WeChat, 21 July 2019, online.
Top Chinese government officials see the use and management of ethnic workers at Taekwang as a model worth emulating. Politburo Standing Committee member Wang Yang and China’s Minister for Public Security, Zhao Kezhi, sent a commendation memo to the management, according to a local media report in late 2019.61 From 2017 to 2018, according to official statistics, 4,710 Uyghur workers were transferred from Xinjiang to Shandong (almost double the government’s own target).62
The workers are closely monitored by party authorities. Officials from the local offices of the Public Security Bureau and United Front Work Department hold regular meetings with Shandong companies that hire “Uyghurs” to discuss the workers’ ‘ideological trends and any issues that have emerged’.63
Those agencies also have representatives stationed inside factories like Taekwang to report daily on the ‘thoughts’ of the Uyghur workers, manage any disputes and guard against spontaneous ‘mass instances’.64 In 2018, a recruitment notice said that Qingdao was looking for auxiliary police who are fluent in minority languages.65 In Xinjiang, auxiliary police officers are responsible for bringing people to detention camps and monitoring them when they are in detention.66
Figure 5: A July 2018 ‘farewell ceremony’ before 176 Uyghur workers left Qira county, Xinjiang for Qingdao to work at Taekwang Shoes Co. Ltd and Fulin Electronics Company
Source: ‘Qira county organises 176 labourers for stable employment at Shandong enterprises’ (策勒县组织176名务工人员赴山东企业稳定就业), Pomegranate Garden (石榴园), WeChat, 5 July 2018, online.
In January 2018, local Hotan media published a ‘letter of gratitude’ from 130 Uyghur workers at Taekwang to the Hotan Prefecture government.67 In the letter, which was written in Mandarin, the Uyghur workers described themselves as being mired in poverty before being sent to Qingdao and express gratitude that they were now able to earn a monthly salary of Ұ2,850 (US$413, above the minimum wage in China).68 ASPI could not verify the wages received by the workers or the authenticity of the letter. The letter goes on to say that, since arriving in Qingdao, the workers had learned the dangers of religious extremism and now see a ‘beautiful life ahead of them’.69
Rendering ‘Xinjiang Aid’ (援疆)
Working arrangements that uproot Uyghurs and place them in factories in eastern and central China are not new. Since the early 2000s, the Chinese government has mobilised wealthier coastal provinces and cities to develop frontier regions such as Xinjiang and Tibet, and actively encouraged the movement of workers in the name of promoting ‘inter-ethnic fusion’ (民族交融) and ‘poverty alleviation’ (扶贫).70
Uyghur workers’ participation in those programs is rarely voluntary. Even in the 2000s, well before the ‘re-education camp’ system was created, working and living conditions for transferred Uyghur workers were often exploitative, if not abusive.71 Rights groups criticised the programs as coercive, highlighting how they intentionally removed Uyghurs from their homes and traditional way of life, only to force the workers to endure the long working hours, poor conditions, predatory bosses and discriminatory attitudes of their Han co-workers.72
Concerned factory bosses significantly reduced the use of Uyghur labour after violent clashes between Han and Uyghur workers in a Guangdong factory led to a deadly riot in Xinjiang’s regional capital of Urumqi in July 2009.73
In response to the unrest, the Chinese government began holding regular national ‘Xinjiang Aid’ conferences in 2010.74 Financial subsidies and political inducements were offered to mobilise wealthier provinces and cities to pair up with cities and prefectures in Xinjiang in order to ‘aid’ the region’s development and stability.75
Provinces have since been encouraged to contribute to the aid scheme in various ways: “‘medical Xinjiang Aid’ (医疗援疆), ‘technology Xinjiang Aid’ (科技援疆), ‘educational Xinjiang Aid’ (教育援疆) and ‘industrial Xinjiang Aid’ (产业援疆).76
Following further violence and the mass detention of Uyghurs in early 2017,77 the ‘Xinjiang Aid’ agenda became a top political priority.78 Local governments and corporations were strongly encouraged to find employment opportunities for newly ‘re-educated’ Uyghurs, under a policy termed ‘industrial Xinjiang Aid’.79
‘Industrial Xinjiang Aid’ seeks to assign work to ‘idle’ Uyghurs in the name of poverty alleviation, but it also shares the same indoctrination aims as the ‘re-education camp’ system: factory bosses are expected to fundamentally alter Uyghur workers by reforming their ‘backward qualities’ and sinicising them.80 In exchange, Uyghur workers are required to show ‘gratitude’ to the Communist Party and their Han ‘elder sisters and brothers’.81
Companies across China can participate in industrial ‘Xinjiang Aid’ in two ways:
opening up ‘satellite’ factories (卫星工厂) or workshops inside Xinjiang to absorb ‘surplus labour capacity’ (富余劳动力).82 According to China’s Xinhua News Agency, in the past few years, ‘Xinjiang Aid’ has seen some 4,400 enterprises set up in Xinjiang, providing nearly a million local jobs.83
hiring Uyghur workers for their factories elsewhere in China through a range of labour transfer schemes.
Some companies, such as Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司)—a garment company headquartered in Anhui province that claims to supply Fila (Italy/South Korea) and Adidas (Germany)—are engaged in both those forms of industrial aid.84
By late 2018, cheap labour emerging from the ‘re-education camps’ had become an important driver of Xinjiang’s economy, according to an official statement by the Xinjiang Development and Reform Commission.85 There is now a direct pipeline of Uyghur workers from ‘vocational training’ and political indoctrination in Xinjiang to factory work across China. ‘For every batch (of workers) that is trained, a batch of employment will be arranged and the batch will be transferred’, a 2019 government work report from Karakax county reads.86 In some cases, labour transfers outside of Xinjiang are organised even before vocational training and political indoctrination start—to ensure ‘100% employment rate’ for the ‘trained’ Uyghurs.87
Xinjiang’s labour transfer program
Data collected from Chinese state media and official government notices indicates that more than 80,000 Uyghur workers were transferred out of Xinjiang between 2017 and 2019. ASPI has mapped the available data on these transfers. The larger the arrow in Figure 6, the greater the number of people being transferred. Dotted lines represent known direct county-to-factory transfers. The diagram shouldn’t be considered comprehensive, but gives a sense of the scale and scope of the program.88
Figure 6: Uyghur transfers to other parts of China from 2017 to 2020
Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre, which used a range of data sources, including local media reports and official government sources.
The Chinese government’s official data on labour transfer includes transfers from southern Xinjiang to northern Xinjiang, transfers from Xinjiang to other provinces, and transfers to local factories. Depending on the county, labourers sent outside Xinjiang count for anywhere between 10%89 to 50%90 of all Xinjiang transfers.
In recent years, transfers from Xinjiang to other parts of China have increased steadily. In 2017, according to state media reports, 20,859 ‘rural surplus labourers’ from Xinjiang were transferred to work in other provinces.91 Based on ASPI’s analysis of published data, an estimated 28,000 people were transferred for employment in 2018.92 In 2019, an estimated 32,000 people were transferred out of the region.93
Xinjiang authorities also claim to have repeatedly exceeded their labour transfer targets.94 The 2017 target was set at 20,000 and exceeded by 4%.95 In 2019, the target was set at 25,000 and reportedly exceeded by about 25%.96
ASPI analysed the volume of results returned by the Chinese search engine Baidu97 when we searched for keywords related to labour transfer schemes. Figure 7 illustrates a steady increase since 2014 (the year in which the so-called ‘Strike Hard Campaign against Violent Extremism’ was launched in Xinjiang), and an even more dramatic increase from 2017 as the ‘re-education’ process ramped up. This is a further suggestion that the labour transfer program has become an increasingly important political priority for the Chinese government in recent years.
Figure 7: Number of Baidu search results for a variety of keywords relating to Xinjiang labour transfers, 2005 to 2019
Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre
Aside from political incentives, the business of ‘buying’ and ‘selling’ Uyghur labour can be quite lucrative for local governments and commercial brokers. According to a 2018 Xinjiang provincial government notice, for every rural ‘surplus labourer’98 transferred to work in another part of Xinjiang for over nine months, the organiser is awarded Ұ20 (US$3); however, for labour transfers outside of Xinjiang, the figure jumps 15-fold to Ұ300 (US$43.25).99 Receiving factories across China are also compensated by the Xinjiang government, receiving a Ұ1,000 (US$144.16) cash inducement for each worker they contract for a year, and Ұ5,000 (US$720.80) for a three-year contract.100 The statutory minimum wage in Urumqi, Xinjiang’s regional capital, was Ұ1620 (US$232.08) a month in 2018.101
In recent years, advertisements for ‘government-sponsored Uyghur labour’ also began to appear online. In February 2019, a company based in Qingdao published a notice advertising a large number of ‘government-led … qualified, secure and reliable’ Uyghur workers for transfer to some 10 provinces in China (Figure 8).102
Figure 8: Advertisement published by Qingdao Decai Decoration Co. claiming to supply government-sponsored Uyghur workers from Xinjiang to other provinces.
Note: The ad features a caricature of two dancing Uyghurs in traditional clothing. Source: ‘Our company provides a large number of government (sponsored) Xinjiang workers – labour dispatching company’ (我司提供大量政府新疆工人劳务派遣公司), Qingdao Human Resources Website (青岛德才人力资源网), online. Translated from Chinese by ASPI.
Another new advertisement claimed to be able to supply 1,000 Uyghur workers aged 16 to 18 years. It reads: ‘The advantages of Xinjiang workers are: semi-military style management, can withstand hardship, no loss of personnel … Minimum order 100 workers!’. The advertisement also said that factory managers can apply for current Xinjiang police to be stationed at their factory 24 hours a day, and that the workers could be delivered (along with an Uyghur cook) within 15 days of the signing of a one-year contract (Figure 9).
Figure 9: Labour-hire advertisement offering young Uyghur workers under ‘semi-military style management’
Source: ‘1,000 minorities, awaiting online booking’ (1000少数民族,在线等预约), Baidu HR Forum (百度 HR吧), 27 November 2019, online. Translated from Chinese by ASPI.
Case study 2: From ‘re-education camps’ to forced labour assignments
New evidence indicates that ‘graduating’ detainees from Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’ have been sent directly to factories to work in other parts of China. In such circumstances, it is unlikely that their work arrangements are voluntary.
The Haoyuanpeng Clothing Manufacturing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋制衣有限公司, HYP) participates in ‘Xinjiang Aid’ both through its satellite factory103 in Xinjiang (established in 2018) and by exporting Uyghur workers to Anhui province, where it is headquartered. On HYP’s corporate website, it advertises strategic partnerships with the Italian–South Korean fashion label Fila, German sportswear companies Adidas and Puma, and Nike.104
In February 2018, HYP transferred 63 workers from Xinjiang to its Anhui factory in eastern China with plans to eventually transfer 500 in total.105 The transferred workers were all ‘graduates’ of the Jiashi County Secondary Vocational School (伽师县中等职业学校), according to a government report.106
ASPI’s analysis of satellite imagery and official documents suggest the ‘school’ had operated as a ‘re-education camp’ since 2017. The compound increased in size, adding new dormitories and factory warehouses while significant security features were added through the introduction of secure ‘military-style management’ (see Figure 10).107
Figure 10: Satellite image of Jiashi Vocational School, January 2018, with security infrastructure added since 2017 highlighted in orange.
Note: Multiple dormitory buildings and a teaching building appear to be completely fenced in and isolated in a style that resembles other political indoctrination camps. Additionally, five small factory warehouse buildings have been constructed in the enclosed area. Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre.
A spokesperson from Adidas said the company does not have an active relationship with HYP and that they will further investigate the use of the Adidas signage.
The transfer of Uyghur labour to Anhui was part of a ‘Xinjiang Aid’ project organised by the Guangdong government, which also involved HYP setting up a highly secure factory in Xinjiang’s Shule (Yengixahar) county (Figure 11).108
Figure 11: Satellite image of HYP’s factory in Shule (Yengixahar) county, Xinjiang
Note: The factory is fully enclosed by perimeter fencing and has several residential dorm buildings further isolated by fencing. In addition there are several security posts throughout the facility. Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre.
In a recent interview, HYP President Zeng Yifa (曾亿法) told state media that he established a factory in Xinjiang because it was difficult to find young workers in other parts of China, or even abroad, concluding that: ‘Although the quality of North Korean workers is good, I’m reluctant to spend money on foreign workers. In the end, I chose Xinjiang.’109
HYP’s factory in Xinjiang, which has a large Adidas billboard on its facade (Figure 13), is surrounded by a 3-metre-high fence. The two entrances to the factory are guarded by security checkpoints, and at least five more security posts monitor the rest of the facility’s perimeter. It is unclear whether HYP’s factory in Anhui province has similar security features.
Figure 12: HYP’s supply chain
Source: ASPI ICPC. See Appendix for supply chain information.
Case study 3: ‘Re-educating’ Uyghur workers in Apple’s supply chain
In December 2017, Apple’s CEO Tim Cook visited one of the company’s contractors—O-Film Technology Co. Ltd (欧菲光科技股份有限公司)110—and posted a picture of himself at the company’s Guangzhou factory on the Chinese social media platform Weibo.111
O-Film manufactured112 the ‘selfie cameras’ for the iPhone 8 and iPhone X. The company also claims on its website to manufacture camera modules and touchscreen components for a number of other well-known companies including Huawei, Lenovo and Samsung.113
Figure 14: Tim Cook’s Weibo post from O-Film’s Guangzhou factory in December 2017
Tim Cook’s post on Chinese social media: ‘Say cheese! Getting a closer look at the remarkable, precision work that goes into manufacturing the selfie cameras for iPhone 8 and iPhone X at O-Film’. Source: online.
Prior to Cook’s visit, between 28 April and 1 May 2017, 700 Uyghurs were reportedly transferred from Lop county, Hotan Prefecture, in Xinjiang to work at a separate O-Film factory in Nanchang, Jiangxi province.114
As with other labour transfers from Xinjiang described in this report, the work assignments for the Uyghurs sent to Jiangxi were highly politicised. The workers were expected to ‘gradually alter their ideology’ and turn into ‘modern, capable youth’ who ‘understand the Party’s blessing, feel gratitude toward the Party, and contribute to stability,’ a local Xinjiang newspaper wrote.115 Once in Jiangxi, they were managed by a few minders sent by Lop county who were ‘politically reliable’ and knew both Mandarin and the Uyghur language.116
According to a now deleted press release,117 Cook praised the company for its ‘humane approach towards employees’ during his visit to O-Film, asserting that workers seemed ‘able to gain growth at the company, and live happily.’118
Five months later, in October 2017, the Hotan government in Xinjiang contacted O-Film, hoping to supply another 1,300 workers.119 On 12 December 2017, a Uyghur worker who claimed to have worked at O-Film said that there were more than a thousand Uyghur workers at the O-Film factory in Jiangxi.120
Figure 15: O-Film Supply Chain
Source: ASPI ICPC. See appendix for supply chain source information.
O-Film is not the only Chinese factory using Uyghur labour to make parts for Apple and its suppliers.
This report identifies three other factories in Apple’s supply chain.
A local government document from September 2019 said that 560 Xinjiang labourers were transferred to work in factories in central Henan province—including Foxconn Technology (Foxconn)’s Zhengzhou facility.121 Foxconn, a Taiwanese company, is the biggest contract electronics manufacturer in the world, making devices for Apple, Dell and Sony, among others.122 The Zhengzhou facility reportedly makes half of the world’s iPhones and is the reason why Zhengzhou city is dubbed the ‘iPhone city’.123
It is unclear how the Uyghur workers are treated at the Zhengzhou facility. However, a September 2019 report by New York-based China Labour Watch said contract workers at Foxconn’s Zhengzhou factory—which includes Uyghur workers—put in at least 100 overtime hours a month.124 Over the past decade, Foxconn has been marred by allegations of worker exploitation and even suicides, including recently at its Zhengzhou facility.125 The company has also actively participated in the ‘Xinjiang Aid’ scheme.126
Uyghur workers with Hubei Yihong Precision Manufacturing Co. Ltd on their transfer between Xinjiang and Xianning, Hubei. This photograph was taken outside of Wuchang train station in Wuhan, Hubei’s provincial capital, in May 2018. Source: online.
On 17 May 2018, 105 Uyghur workers were transferred from Keriya county, Xinjiang, to Hubei Yihong Precision Manufacturing Co. Ltd (湖北奕宏精密制造有限公司, Hubei Yihong) in Xianning, Hubei province.127 Upon the workers’ arrival, a senior communist party official visited the Hubei Yihong factory. In a speech, he put forward three demands: for the workers to exercise gratitude to the Communist Party, for the managers to increase surveillance and intensify patriotic education, and for the workers to quickly blend in.128
Hubei Yihong makes backlights and battery covers129. It is a subsidiary of Dongguan Yidong Electronic Co. Ltd (东莞市奕东电子有限公司), whose website claims that its end customers include Apple and Huawei130. While neither Hubei Yihong nor its parent company is included in Apple’s supplier list, Hubei Yihong’s website lists GoerTek, which directly supplies Apple with AirPods, as one of their customers131.
Figure 17: Hubei Yihong Supply Chain
Source: ASPI ICPC. See appendix for supply chain source information.
In 2017, another electronics company that claims to make components for Apple’s supplier, Hefei Highbroad Advanced Material Co. Ltd (翰博高新材料(合肥)股份有限公司, Highbroad) signed a contract with the Hotan government to take in 1,000 Uyghurs each year for the next three years, according to the company’s vice president.132 Later that year, more than 500 Uyghurs from rural Guma county in Hotan Prefecture were transported to Hefei in Anhui province to begin work in Highbroad’s electronics factory.133
In 2018, 544 Uyghurs were transferred from Guma county to a Highbroad subsidiary, also in Hefei, called Fuying Photoelectric Co. Ltd (合肥福映光电有限公司).134 At Fuying, according to state media, Aynur Memetyusup, a young Uyghur woman, learned to improve her Mandarin and workplace discipline and to take daily showers that made ‘her long hair more flowing than ever.’ She is quoted as saying, ‘Like President Xi has said, happiness is always the result of struggle.’135
Figure 18: A picture of Aynur Memetyusup (first from left) in an after-work Mandarin class at Highbroad Advanced Material Co. Ltd in Hefei, Anhui province
Source: ‘Uyghur girl helps her mom’s big dream come true’, China Daily, 6 August 2019, online.
According to the company’s 2018 annual report,136 Highbroad’s main products are components for flat panel displays—the LCD and OLED screens used in many smartphones, tablets and computers. Highbroad notes that 79.19% of its operating revenue comes from sales to the Beijing-based multinational company BOE Technology Group Co. Ltd (京东方), which is one of the world’s largest producers of electronic displays. BOE is currently a major screen supplier to Huawei137 and is set to become Apple’s second-largest OLED screen supplier by 2021.138 BOE is currently listed on Apple’s supplier list.139
According to Highbroad’s website their customers include Japan Display Inc. and LG Display.140 Highbroad’s hiring ads141 and a Chinese LCD industry directory142 also claim that Highbroad’s end customers include other well-known companies including Dell, Lenovo, Samsung and Sony, and automobile manufacturers such as BMW, Jaguar, Land Rover, Mercedes-Benz and Volkswagen (Figure 18). Jaguar Land Rover says it investigated its supply chain and found it does not source directly from Highbroad, and was assured by its suppliers they do not source from the company.
Figure 19: Highbroad supply chain
Source: ASPI ICPC. See Appendix for supply chain information.
Implications for the global supply chain
The rapid expansion of the nationwide system of Uyghur labour presents a new challenge for foreign companies operating in China. How do they secure the integrity of their supply chains and protect their brands from the reputational and legal risks of being associated with forced, discriminatory or abusive labour practices? Interwoven supply chains and the mixed nature of their workforces, which draw on both Han and Uyghur workers, make it particularly difficult for companies to ensure that their products are not associated with forced labour. These labour transfer schemes also present a challenge to the reputation of Chinese brands overseas.
In all, ASPI’s research has identified 82 foreign and Chinese companies potentially directly or indirectly benefiting from the use of Uyghur workers outside Xinjiang through abusive labour transfer programs: Abercrombie & Fitch, Acer, Adidas, Alstom, Amazon, Apple, ASUS, BAIC Motor, Bestway, BMW, Bombardier, Bosch, BYD, Calvin Klein, Candy, Carter’s, Cerruti 1881, Changan Automobile, Cisco, CRRC, Dell, Electrolux, Fila, Founder Group, GAC Group (automobiles), Gap, Geely Auto, General Motors, Google, Goertek, H&M, Haier, Hart Schaffner Marx, Hisense, Hitachi, HP, HTC, Huawei, iFlyTek, Jack & Jones, Jaguar, Japan Display Inc., L.L.Bean, Lacoste, Land Rover, Lenovo, LG, Li-Ning, Marks & Spencer, Mayor, Meizu, Mercedes-Benz, MG, Microsoft, Mitsubishi, Mitsumi, Nike, Nintendo, Nokia, Oculus, Oppo, Panasonic, Polo Ralph Lauren, Puma, SAIC Motor, Samsung, SGMW, Sharp, Siemens, Skechers, Sony, TDK, Tommy Hilfiger, Toshiba, Tsinghua Tongfang, Uniqlo, Victoria’s Secret, Vivo, Volkswagen, Xiaomi, Zara, Zegna, ZTE. Some brands are linked with multiple factories.
The data is based on published supplier lists, media reports, and the factories’ claimed suppliers. ASPI reached out to these 82 brands to confirm their relevant supplier details. Where companies responded before publication, we have included their relevant clarifications in this report. If any company responses are made available after publication of this report, we will address these online.
A further 54 companies are implicated in what could be forced labour schemes within Xinjiang itself (see appendix)—some of which overlap with the 82 companies linked to forced Uyghur labour outside of Xinjiang. It is important to note that not all companies have the same levels of exposure to Uyghur forced labour. Some finished products are directly manufactured by these workers, while others pass through complicated supply chains.
The appendix to this report lists 35 documented labour transfer programs under ‘Xinjiang Aid’ since 2017. The table includes the following information:
transfers to factories in central and eastern provinces of China
transfers to purpose-built factories within Xinjiang
the number of people moved to the factories
the products they make
the companies the factories claim they supply.
In the past three years, the ‘re-education camp’ system in Xinjiang has drawn international condemnation. Now the culture and ethos of ‘re-education’ is being exported well beyond Xinjiang and married with practices that likely amount to forced labour.
This report establishes that some workers employed through labour transfer schemes at factories across China are sourced directly from the ‘re-education camps’ in Xinjiang. Ethnic minority workers from Xinjiang who are not known to be former detainees may also be forced to work under threat of detention, the intimidation of family members and a range of restrictions on their freedom. The tainted global supply chain that results from these practices means that it is now difficult to guarantee that products manufactured in China are free from forced labour.143
We have found that a large number of Chinese and multinational companies are sourcing components or products from factories that proudly boast about their Uyghur workers, such as Taekwang144 and HYP.145 This situation poses new risks—reputational and legal—for companies and consumers purchasing goods from China, as products made in any part of the country, not just in Xinjiang, may have passed through the hands of forced labourers. This situation also creates new risks for investors in those companies—from private investors to wealth management funds—who may now find themselves indirectly linked to forced labour practices.
Recommendations
The response to the abuses identified in this report should not involve a knee-jerk rejection of Uyghur or Chinese labour. The problem is the policies that require Uyghurs to work under duress in violation of well-established international labour laws. It is vital that, as these problems are addressed, Uyghur labourers are not placed in positions of greater harm or, for example, involuntarily transferred back to Xinjiang, where their safety cannot necessarily be guaranteed. In light of this report’s findings, we make the following recommendations.
The Chinese government should:
give multinational companies unfettered access to allow them to investigate any abusive or forced labour practices in factories in China
uphold the rights of all workers in China, especially those from vulnerable ethnic minorities, to determine how their labour is deployed and the conditions under which they leave their place of residence
ratify the ILO International Labour Standards; structure a comprehensive grievance mechanism, including for the investigation of alleged cases of forced labour; provide victims with protection and remedies; and prosecute perpetrators
uphold the legitimate rights of China’s citizens, including by protecting ethnic and religious rights enshrined in the Chinese Constitution.146
Companies using forced Uyghur labour in their supply chains could find themselves in breach of laws which prohibit the importation of goods made with forced labour or mandate disclosure of forced labour supply chain risks.147
Each company listed in this report should:
conduct immediate and thorough human rights due diligence on its factory labour in China, including robust and independent social audits and inspections. The audits and inspections should include a stocktake of the conditions and current and ongoing safety of vulnerable workers
if it finds that factories are implicated in forced labour, seek to use its leverage to address improper labour practices. In all cases where harm has occurred, it should take appropriate and immediate remedial action. Where it cannot, it should cease working with those factories
ensure that it is fully transparent as it seeks to address all potential harms, including by reporting its due diligence and audit findings publicly.
Foreign governments should:
identify opportunities to increase pressure on the Chinese government to end the use and facilitation of Uyghur forced labour and mass extrajudicial detention, including through the use of targeted sanctions on senior officials responsible for Xinjiang’s coercive labour transfers
review trade agreements to restrict commodities and products being produced with forced labour
identify opportunities to pressure the Chinese government into ratifying the Convention on Forced Labour, 1930 (No. 29),148 Abolition of Forced Labour Convention, 1957 (No.105)149 and the Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention.150
Consumers and civil society groups, including NGOs, labour unions and consumer advocacy groups, should:
demand that companies that manufacture in China conduct due diligence and social audits to ensure that they’re not complicit in forced labour practices
advocate for the recognition of continual, multilayered surveillance and monitoring of workers and their digital communications—both in and outside work hours—as an emerging and under-reported indicator of forced labour and an important human rights violation
push brands to be more transparent about the make-up of their supply chains and the preventative measures they have put in place to ensure forced labour does not occur
demand that companies make new public commitments, uphold current commitments, or both, to not use forced and coerced labour in their global supply chains and that they act quickly and publicly when such cases are identified.
Appendix
Appendices, Citations and Notes
Readers are encouraged to download the PDF to access the appendix, full and extensive citations and notes that accompany this report. (See link at top of this page).
Document History
First published 1 March 2020. The text on page 5 and in the appendix was updated on 3 March 2020 to reflect responses from some of the companies named in the report. The text on pages 5 and 24, Figure 17 on page 24, and the text on page 34 of the appendix were amended on 6 March to reflect responses from a company named in the report. The appendix on p39 was updated on 19 March to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The appendix on p31 was updated on 14 April to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text in Figure 17 on page 24 and the appendix on pages 34, 36, and 39 was amended on 5 June to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The report was amended on 28 July 2020 to remove The North Face from the list of brands, given their association with the relevant factory had ceased before the evidence indicates the factory had received Uyghur workers on a transfer scheme. The text on p37 was amended on 13 August 2020 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. Endnotes from number 257 on pages 52 and 53 are re-numbered. The report was amended on 24 August 2020 to reflect a statement by a company named in the report; and to correct a broken web link. The text on page 32 and 39 was amended on 21 September 2020 to reflect a statement by a company named in the report. The text on page 38 and 39 was amended on 30 September 2020 to reflect a statement by a company named in the report. Figure 17 on page 24 and text on pages 5, 27 and 34 were updated on 20 October 2020 reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on pages 5, 27, 36 and 52 was updated on 19 November 2020 to correct a translation error in a subsidiary company name. The text on page 31 and page 34 was changed on 18 December 2020 to reflect responses from companies named in the report. The text on page 25 and page 33 was changed on 11 January 2021 to reflect responses from companies named in the report. The text on page 42 was amended on 25 February 2021 to add cross-referencing between endnotes. The text on page 33 was amended on 16 March 2021 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on page 34 was amended on 5 August 2021 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on page 31 was amended on 20 October 2021 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on page 37 was amended on 21 June 2022 to reflect a response from a company named in the report.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank researchers Daria Impiombato, Sarah O’Connor and Emily Weinstein. A special thanks to Stephanie Zhang who spent an enormous amount of time on this project. We would like to thank all peer reviewers including Darren Byler, labour specialists and anonymous reviewers. Finally, we would like to thank ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre Director Fergus Hanson for his support and guidance.
The UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office provided ASPI with funding of £10,000, which was used towards this report.
What is ASPI?
The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.
ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre
ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.
Important disclaimer
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in relation to the subject matter covered. It is provided with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering any form of professional or other advice or services. No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from a qualified professional.
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First published February 2020.
ISSN 2209-9689 (online), ISSN 2209-9670 (print)
The Chinese government’s ‘re-education’ policies have mainly targeted the Uyghurs but also other Turkic speaking Muslim minorities such as the Kazakhs, Uzbeks, Tartars, Tajiks, Kyrgyz and Hui. This report refers to them collectively as ‘Uyghurs’ or ‘ethnic minorities’ for brevity. ↩︎
‘Detention camps’ and ‘re-education camps’ are used interchangeably in this paper. ↩︎
‘Xinjiang Aid, to the hearts of the masses’ (对口援疆,做到群众心坎上), Anhui Guoyuan Financial Holdings Group Co. Ltd (安徽国元金融控股集团有限责任公司), 26 July 2018, online; ‘Hotan migrant workers find employment in Jiangxi Nanchang’s high-tech enterprises’ (和田外出务工人员在江西南昌高新企业就业掠 影), Hotan People’s government (和田市人民政府), 8 April 2019. ↩︎
Yu Mingtong (于明彤), ‘Guangdong industry Xinjiang Aid: Helping Kashgar ethnic women find employment’ (广东产业援疆 助力喀什少数民族妇女就业), International Online (国际在线), 9 November 2018, online; “Xinjiang Aid”, to the hearts of the masses’ (对口援疆,做到群众心坎上), Anhui Guoyuan Financial Holdings Group Co. Ltd (安徽国元金融控股集团有限责任公司), 26 July 2018. ↩︎
‘Nilka, Xinjiang: Multiple measures to explore for improving model of organised rural labour transfer employment outside of Xinjiang’ (新疆尼勒克:多措并举探索提升农村劳动力疆外有组织转移就业新模 式), Xinjiang Public Employment Net (新疆公共就业服务网), 25 June 2019. ↩︎
Guidelines for Guangdong enterprises to hire Xinjiang workers (trial) (广东企业招用新疆籍劳动者指引 (试用), Guangdong Employment Service Administration (广东省就业服务管理局), 18 January 2019, online. For additional details on the security measures and government minders, see section ‘Forced Uyghur Labour’. ↩︎
Rick Noack, ‘In a first, 22 nations condemned China’s repression of Uigher Muslims. Without the US’, The Washington Post, 12 July 2019 ↩︎
See the United State’s Tariff Act of 1930, online, and Australia’s Modern Slavery Act 2018. ↩︎
Adrian Zenz, ‘Brainwashing, police guards, and coercive internment: evidence from Chinese government documents about the nature and extent of Xinjiang’s “vocational training internment camps”‘, Journal of Political Risk, July 2019, 7(7), online; Fergus Ryan, Danielle Cave and Nathan Ruser, Mapping Xinjiang’s ‘re-education’ camps, ASPI, Canberra, 1 November 2018. ↩︎
James Leibold, ‘Despite China’s denials, its treatment of the Uyghurs should be called what it is: cultural genocide’, The Conversation, 24 July 2019. ↩︎
Rob Schmitz, ‘Ex-detainee describes torturer in China’s Xinjiang re-education camp’, NPR, 13 November 2018. ↩︎
Mu Xuequan, ‘China Focus: Xinjiang determined in counter-terrorism, deradicalization, maintaining development’, Xinhua Net, 10 December 2019. ↩︎
‘Trainees in Xinjiang education, training program have all graduated’, Xinhua, 9 December 2019. ↩︎
In 2019, investigations conducted by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre revealed that Australian companies Cotton On and Target were at risk of using forced labour in their supply chains. Sophie McNeill, Jeanavive McGregor, Meredith Griffiths, Michael Walsh, Echo Hui, Bang Xiao, ‘Cotton On and Target investigate suppliers after forced labour of Uyghurs exposed in China’s Xinjiang’, Four Corners, ABC News, 17 July 2019, online; Nathan Ruser, ‘What satellite imagery reveals about Xinjiang’s ‘re-education’ camps and coerced labour’, The Strategist, 16 July 2019, online; Adrian Zenz, ‘Xinjiang’s new slavery’, Foreign Policy, 11 December 2019, online; Amy Lehr and Mariefaye Bechrakis, ‘Comnecting the Dots in Xinjiang: Forced Labour, Forced Assimilation and Western Supply Chains,’ A Report of the CSIS Human Rights Initiative, Center for Strategic and International Studies, October 2019. ↩︎
Steve Hess, ‘Dividing and conquering the shop floor: Uyghur labour export and labour segmentation in China’s industrial east’, Central Asian Survey, December 2009, 28(4), 404. ↩︎
The appendix lists all Chinese and global brands implicated, as well as the cities and provinces in China where the factories are known to be using Uyghur labour. ↩︎
This estimate is based on data collected from Chinese state media and official government notices. ↩︎
‘Xinjiang Human Resources and Social Security Department: Strengthening labour cooperation in the region to promote long-term stable employment’ (新疆自治区人力资源和社会保障厅:强化区内劳务协作 促进长期稳定就业), Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, People’s Republic of China (中华人 民共和国人力资源和社会保障部), 11 January 2019. ↩︎
Chris Buckley and Austin Ramzy, ‘Inside China’s push to turn Muslim minorities into an army of workers’, New York Times, 30 December 2019. ↩︎
Interim measures for the management of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region’s rural surplus labour forces to transfer employment to reward funds (新疆维吾尔自治区农村富余劳动力转移就业以奖代补资金管理暂 行办法), online. ↩︎
Bill Birtles, ‘China defends “vocational training centres” amid international pressure over mass Uighur detentions’, ABC News, 17 October 2018. See also endnotes 160, 207, 222, 223. ↩︎
Work report of the People’s government of Moyu county in 2019 (2019年墨玉县人民政府工作报告), Moyu county government Network (墨玉县政府网), 12 November 2019. ↩︎
Under the 1930 Forced Labour Convention, forced labour is ‘all work or service which is exacted from any person under the threat of a penalty and for which the person has not offered himself or herself voluntarily’. The 2014 Forced Labour Protocol, Article 1(3), reaffirms the 1930 convention’s definition. See Convention Concerning Forced or Compulsory Labour, 1930 (No.29), online, and Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention, 1930. ↩︎
‘Xinjiang Lop county: Leave as industrial workers, return as excellent public speakers’ (新疆洛浦县:外出 成产业工人 返乡是优秀宣讲员), Phoenix News (凤凰新闻), 12 December 2017, online. In March 2019, the press office of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region government told AFP that there was ‘no labour contract between education and training centres and enterprises’ and that ‘no enterprise obtains labour from training centres’; Agence France-Press, ‘China turns Muslim ‘re-education’ camp detainees into cheap labour force, human rights group claims’, South China Morning Post, 4 March 2019. ↩︎
Darren Byler, ‘How companies profit from forced labour in Xinjiang’, supchina, 4 September 2019, online; Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
Zhu Yongfeng (朱勇峰), ‘The first batch of 50 workers from Nilka county goes to Jiangsu KTK Group’ (尼勒克 县首批50名赴江苏今创集团务工), China Labour and Social Security News (中国劳动保障新闻网), 15 May 2019. ↩︎
Yu Tao (于涛), ‘Xinjiang workers depart to return home to Xinjiang for the first time this winter’ (新疆今 冬首趟进疆务工人员返乡专列发车), Xinhua News (新华网), 7 November 2019, online. Before the 2017 crackdown, ‘surplus labour’ mostly referred to rural labour, but in recent years different types of labour transfer, including of rural labour and former detainees, have often been lumped together as ‘surplus labour’ to meet bigger targets. ↩︎
Simaier Human Resources (斯麦尔人力), ‘Important notice’ (重要通知), Labour Dispatch Forum (劳务派遣 吧), Baidu, 27 October 2019, online; ‘1,000 minorities, awaiting online booking’ (1000少数民族,在线等预 约), Baidu HR Forum (百度 HR吧), 27 November 2019. The first batch of rural surplus workers from Bagqi Village in Aksu was transferred for employment’ (阿克苏巴格其村首批农村富余劳动力转移就业), Xinjiang News Online Network (新疆新闻在线网), 8 March 2018, online. [https://archive.fo/BcU4l#selection-431.3-431.10] See also endnote 28. ↩︎
‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族 团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019. ↩︎
Nilka, Xinjiang: Multiple measures to explore for improving model of organised rural labour transfer employment outside of Xinjiang’ (新疆尼勒克:多措并举探索提升农村劳动力疆外有组织转移就业新模 式), Xinjiang Public Employment Net (新疆公共就业服务网), 25 June 2019. ↩︎
Xinjiang Autonomous Region Human Resources and Social Security Department: Strengthening labour cooperation in the region to promote long-term stable employment (新疆自治区人力资源和社会保障厅:强 化区内劳务协作 促进长期稳定就业), Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, People’s Republic of China (中华人民共和国人力资源和社会保障部), 11 January 2019, online; ‘Guidelines for Guangdong Enterprises to hire Xinjiang Workers (Trial)’ (广东企业招用新疆籍劳动者指引 (试用)), Guangdong Employment Service Administration (广东省就业服务管理局), 18 January 2019. See also endnotes 5, 171 and 248. ↩︎
‘To change a family’s destiny, these rural women workers from Xinjiang came to Qingdao. What did they experience?’ (伟改变家庭命运 这些新疆农村女工来到青岛 她们经历了什么?), CCTV News Public Account (央视新闻公众号) Sina Finance (新浪财经), 21 September 2016. The Suzhou Chamber of Commerce in Xinjiang has faced the difficulties and persisted in paving the way for poor areas in Xinjiang to become rich’ (新疆苏州商会 迎难而上 坚持不懈 为新疆贫困地区铺就致富之路), China’s Social Organisations (中国社会组织), online [https://archive.vn/0Qt4g]. See also endnotes 3, 6. ↩︎
According to a report by CSIS, the Chinese government permits factories to pay Uyghur workers in Xinjiang significantly lower than minimum wage. In some instances they’re not paid at all. Amy K. Lehr & Mariefaye Bechrakis, ‘Connecting the Dots in Xinjiang: Forced Labor, Forced Assimilation, and Western Supply Chains’, A Report of the CSIS Human Rights Initiative, 16 October 2019. ↩︎
Cao Siqi, ‘Vocational centers in Xinjiang will disappear when society no longer needs them: official’, Global Times, 12 March 2019. ↩︎
‘Hotan Prefecture’s innovative mechanism promotes labour transfer employment’ (和田地区创新机制助推 劳动力转移就业), Xinhua News (新华网), 23 May 2017. ↩︎
‘Hotan Prefecture’s innovative mechanism promotes labour transfer employment’ (和田地区创新机制助推 劳动力转移就业), Xinhua News (新华网), 23 May 2017 ↩︎
The language used in the Xinjiang Human Resources and Social Affairs Department document appears to be intentionally vague. The smartphone app used to record information about Uyghur workers is unnamed, and ASPI hasn’t been able to find relevant information to identify the app. ↩︎
‘To change a family’s destiny, these rural women workers from Xinjiang came to Qingdao. What did they experience?’ (伟改变家庭命运 这些新疆农村女工来到青岛 她们经历了什么?), CCTV News Public Account (央视新闻公众号) Sina Finance (新浪财经), 21 September 2016. ↩︎
‘Four prefectures in southern Xinjiang press the fast-forward button to fight poverty’ (南疆四地州按下脱贫 攻坚快进键), Smart Farm 361 (智农361), 20 September 2018. ↩︎
Nilka, Xinjiang: Multiple measures to explore for improving model of organised rural labour transfer employment outside of Xinjiang’ (新疆尼勒克:多措并举探索提升农村劳动力疆外有组织转移就业新模 式), Xinjiang Public Employment Net (新疆公共就业服务网), 25 June 2019. ↩︎
Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
Article 4 of the Chinese Constitution states: ‘All nationalities in the People’s Republic of China are equal. The state protects the lawful rights and interests of the minority nationalities and upholds and develops the relationship of equality, unity, and mutual assistance among all of China’s nationalities. Discrimination against and oppression of any nationality are prohibited; any acts that undermine the unity of the nationalities or instigate their secession are prohibited. The state helps the areas inhabited by minority nationalities speed up their economic and cultural development in accordance with the peculiarities and needs of the different minority nationalities.’ The National People’s Congress of the People’s Republic of China, Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, 4 December 1982. ↩︎
‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 Nov 2019. According to state media, by the end of 2019, there were around 800 Uyghur workers at Taekwang. According to the Washington Post, by January 2020, there were 600 Uyghur workers there. ↩︎
‘Group profile’, Jeongsan International, no date, online; ‘Nike Global Manufacturing data export—filters applied: ((none))’ Nike, August 2019. ↩︎
‘From here to a brand new life—Xinjiang Hotan, Kashgar Vocational Skills Education and Training Center’ (从这里,走向崭新生活—新疆和田,喀什职业技能教育培训中心见闻), Xinhua News (新华网), 5 November 2018. ↩︎
‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019. ↩︎
‘Muslim minority in China’s Xinjiang face ‘political indoctrination’: Human Rights Watch’, Reuters, 10 September 2018. ↩︎
Lauren Thomas, ‘70% of shoes sold in the US come from China. With new tariffs, the industry braces for a hit’, CNBC, 2 August 2019. ↩︎
Nike has published policies prohibiting forced labour at its supplier facilities. In a 2019 company statement on forced labour and modern slavery it says it requires suppliers to address key risks of forced labour and lays out what it says are ‘minimum standards we expect each supplier factory or facility to meet’. ‘Company introduction’ (公司简介), Qingdao Taekwang Shoes Co. Ltd (青岛泰光制鞋有限公司), online; Nike, ‘Human Rights and Labor Compliance Standards’, online; Nike, ‘Statement on Forced Labor, Human Trafficking and Modern Slavery for fiscal year 2019’. Nike responded to the allegations in this report in a media statement, https://purpose.nike.com/statement-on-xinjiang ↩︎
A department under the CCP’s Central Committee. ↩︎
‘Municipal United Front Work Department’s “Pomegranate Seed” Night School: a look into Qingdao Taekwang’s Mandarin classes’ (市委统战部’ 石榴籽’ 夜校 走进青岛泰光举办普通话培训班), Laixi United Front (莱西统一战线), WeChat, 1 July 2019, online. ↩︎
‘Xi Jinping: China’s ethnic groups should closely embrace one another like pomegranate seeds’ (习近平:各民族要像石榴籽那样紧紧抱在一起), China Communist Party News (中国共产党新闻网), 28 September 2015, online. ↩︎
Anna Fifield, ‘China compels Uighurs to work in shoe factory that supplies Nike’, Washington Post, 29 February 2020, online. ↩︎
Isolation of workers and abuse of their vulnerabilities (such as a lack of knowledge of the local language) are two indicators of forced labour, according to the ILO; International Labour Office, ILO indicators of forced labour, International Labour Organization, Geneva, 1 October 2012, online. ↩︎
‘Let the seeds of national unity be rooted in the heart—The Women’s Federation of the Municipality truly cares for minority female workers’ (让民族团结的种子根植心–市妇联真情关爱少数民族女工侧记), Discover Qingdao (发现青岛), Sohu, 9 October 2019, online. ↩︎
Recruitment advertisements for staff in the internment camps reportedly state that experience in psychological training is a plus. Sigal Samuel, ‘China is treating Islam like a mental illness’, The Atlantic, 28 August 2018, online. ↩︎
‘The Party Committee of the Municipal Public Security Bureau organised a joint activity of the educational branch with the theme of ‘Don’t forget the original heart and keep the mission in mind’’ ((学习) 市公安局党委组织开展 ’不忘初心、牢记使命’ 主题教育支部联建活动), Laixi News (莱西新闻), WeChat, online. ↩︎
‘Interview with Yang Guoqiang, Chief Commander of Shandong Province and Deputy Secretary of Xinjiang Kashgar Party Committee’ (国家援疆新闻平台专访山东省援疆总指挥、新疆喀什地委副书记杨国强), China Development Network (中国发展网), 27 April 2018, online. ↩︎
‘Outstanding humanistic care, strengthening employment security; Qingdao’s Laixi county steadily carrying out service management work for Xinjiang ethnic minorities’ (突出人文关怀 强化就业保障 青岛莱西市扎实开展新疆籍少数民族人员服务管理工作), Qingdao Ethnicity and Religion Bureau (青岛市民族宗教局), 19 April 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Mass instances’ generally refers to any spontaneous or organised acts of unrest or rioting in Chinese. ‘Outstanding humanistic care, strengthening employment security; Qingdao’s Laixi county steadily carrying out service management work for Xinjiang ethnic minorities’ (突出人文关怀 强化就业保障 青岛莱西市扎实开展新疆籍少数民族人员服务管理工作), Qingdao Ethnicity and Religion Bureau (青岛市民族宗教局), 19 April 2017, online. ↩︎
In China, auxiliary police are unarmed officers hired through contracts. Since 2017, Xinjiang has filled a large number of security-related positions, including auxiliary police officers. Gan, ‘Xinjiang’s police hiring binge comes from party boss’s Tibet playbook’; ‘Shandong Qingdao recruits 40 auxiliary policemen with a monthly salary of 4500, can sign up for specialized training’ (山东青岛招聘40名辅警月薪4500 专科就可以报名), Auxiliary Police Officers (警务辅助人员), WeChat, 19 January 2018, online. ↩︎
Austin Ramzy, ‘He needed a Job. China gave him one: locking up his fellow Muslims’, New York Times, 2 March 2019, online. ↩︎
‘A letter of gratitude from Hotan workers: We are doing well in Shandong!’ (一封内地和田籍务工人员的感谢信:我们在山东挺好的!), NetEase (网易), 29 January 2018, online. ↩︎
Alexander Chipman Koty, Qian Zhou, ‘A guide to minimum wages in China’, China Briefing, 2 January 2020, online. ↩︎
The letter also mentions a ‘leading cadre’—likely a minder—who translates instructions and teaches the workers the spirit of the 19th Communist Party Congress after work. It appears that the minder was responsible for teaching Mandarin before the establishment of the Pomegranate Seed Night School. ↩︎
James Leibold, ‘Ethnic policy in China: is reform inevitable?’, Policy Studies, 2013, no. 68, East–West Center, online. ↩︎
According to the 2008 annual report of the US Congressional Executive Commission on China, ‘local officials, following direction from higher levels of government, have used ‘deception, pressure, and threats’ toward young women and their families to gain recruits into the labour transfer program.’ Congress-Executive Commission on China (CECC), 2018 Annual Report, 10 October 2018, online. ↩︎
Steve Hess, ‘Dividing and conquering the shop floor: Uyghur labour export and labour segmentation in China’s industrial east’, Central Asian Survey, December 2009, 28(4), 404, online. ↩︎
Tania Branigan, ‘Ethnic violence in China leaves 140 dead’, The Guardian, 6 July 2009, online. ↩︎
‘Successive ‘Xinjiang Aid’ conferences evidence of changes in Xinjiang’s governance strategy’, (历次援新疆会议 见证治疆政变迁), Sohu, 24 July 2014, online. ↩︎
Li Yuhui, China’s assistance program in Xinjiang, Lexington Books, Lanham, Maryland, 2018. ↩︎
Four years before the 2017 crackdown in Xinjiang, terms such as ‘vocational training’ and ‘strengthening and improving ideological and political education’ began appearing in ‘Xinjiang Aid’ conference materials. ‘Fourth National ‘Xinjiang Aid’ Conference held in Beijing’ (第四次全国对口支援新疆工作会议在北京召开), Central government Portal (中央政府门户网站), 24 September 2013, online; Fergus Ryan, Danielle Cave, Nathan Ruser, ‘Mapping Xinjiang’s ‘re-education’ camps’, ASPI, Canberra, 1 November 2018, online. ↩︎
James Leibold, ‘The spectre of insecurity: the CCP’s mass internment strategy in Xinjiang’, China Leadership Monitor, 59 (Spring 2019), online. ↩︎
See, for example, ‘‘Six batches’ boosted employment of 100,000 people in Kashgar’s Hotan in three years’ ( ’六个一批’ 助推喀什和田地区三年就业十万人), Xinhua News (新华网), 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Xinjiang focuses on 22 deeply impoverished counties (cities) planning to transfer 100,000 jobs in 3 years’ (新疆聚焦22个深度贫困县(市)计划3年转移就业10万人), Xinhua News (新华网), 10 January 2018, online. ↩︎
Yan Hailong (闫海龙), Thoughts and suggestions on human resources development in the three regions of southern ‘Xinjiang Aid’ work (关于对口援疆工作中南疆三地州人力资源开发的思考与建议), Institute of Economic Research of Xinjiang Development and Reform (新疆维吾尔自治区发展和改革委员会经济研究院), 22 May 2012, online. ↩︎
‘Xianning opens ‘green channel’ for Xinjiang’s organised labour export’, (咸宁为新疆籍有组织劳务输出开辟’ 绿色通道’ ), United Front of Jingchu (荆楚统战), Headlines Express (看点快报), 18 May 2018, online. ↩︎
Satellite factories are subsidiary company factories established in Xinjiang by parent companies throughout China. This paper will refer to them just as factories for brevity. ↩︎
Han Qinyan (韩沁言), ‘Industry aids Xinjiang for development’ (产业援疆促发展), Xinhua News (新华网), 3 January 2020, online. ↩︎
Autonomous region’s economic structure is stable and has good development (自治区经济结构稳中有活 发展良好), Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region Development and Reform Commission (新疆维吾尔自治区 发展和改革委员会), 5 December 2018, online. ↩︎
Work report of the People’s government of Moyu county in 2019 (2019年墨玉县人民政府工作报告), Moyu county government Network (墨玉县政府网), 12 November 2019, online. ↩︎
A 2017 report from local media in Kashgar stated that officials from the county’s bureau of human resources travelled to other Chinese provinces to negotiate employment placements prior to months of ‘Winter Youth Education and Training’—a form of re-education including political indoctrination and militarised discipline that usually lasts a few months. See ‘High level collaboration in Winter Youth Education and Training in Kashgar’ (高位推动 通力协作 喀什地区冬季青年教育培训工作如火如荼), Kashgar Zero Distance (喀什零距离), 16 February 2017, online. ↩︎
Our research relied on publicly available notices of labour transfers reported by government sources and local media. Not all labour transfers are reported in media sources, and available numbers suggest that this map is incomplete. The actual numbers are likely to be far higher. ↩︎
‘Xinjiang’s Kashgar and Hotan Prefectures’ rural surplus labour transfer employment project has been implemented for two years now’ (新疆喀什和田农村富余劳动力转移就业工程实施两年来), Ningxia News (宁夏新闻网), 15 November 2018, online. ↩︎
‘Transfer employment 2,410 labourers in poverty from Southern Xinjiang’ (南疆2410名贫困劳动力转移就业), China Western Development Promotion Association (中国西部开发促进会), online. ↩︎
‘In 2017, 2.75 million rural surplus labourers were transferred for employment’ (2017新疆农村富余劳动力转移就业275万人次), Xinjiang Daily (新疆日报), 9 January 2018, online. ↩︎
According to state media, by November of 2018, Xinjiang transferred 25,378 people to other provinces for employment that year. Extrapolating this figure for the full calendar year, ASPI estimates that 28,000 people would have been transferred out of Xinjiang in 2018 in total. ‘2.8 million rural surplus labor transfers for employment in the first 11 months (of the year) in Xinjiang’ (前11月新疆近280万人次农村富余劳动力转移就业), Xinjiang Daily (新疆日报), 26 December 2018, online. ↩︎
According to state media, in the first half of 2019, the Xinjiang government organized transfers of 15,459 people to ‘Xinjiang Aid’ areas in eastern and central China. ASPI estimates that this puts the whole year’s figure at around 32,000. Xinhua (新华网), ‘Nearly 1.76 million Xinjiang rural surplus labour transfers in the first half of the year’ (新疆上半年农村富余劳动力转移就业近176万人次), China News (中国新闻网), 19 July 2019, online. ↩︎
Information on targets and transfers for the years before 2017 is scarce. However, the limited data suggests that there’s been significant growth in recent years. From 2014 to mid-2018, Nilka, a small county in Xinjiang, reportedly transferred 390 people to work in other provinces of China. In the first six months of 2019, the county transferred 551 people outside of Xinjiang. ‘Transfer employment ‘transfers’ to a new life’ (转移就 业’ 转’ 出生活新气象), Nilka county government (尼勒克县政府网), 20 June 2019, online. ↩︎
‘In 2017, 2.75 million rural surplus labourers were transferred for employment’ (2017新疆农村富余劳动力转移就业275万人次), Xinjiang Daily (新疆日报), 9 January 2018, online. ↩︎
‘Multiple employment ‘dividends’ in Xinjiang help fight poverty’ (新疆多项就业 ’红利’ 助力脱贫攻坚), Xinhua News (新华网), 4 March 2019, online. ↩︎
The labour transfer programs that have included former detainees have also been referred to in official sources as ‘rural surplus labour’. ‘The maximum salary is over 5,000 yuan, with a deposit of 30,000 a year. Jiashi students’ employment in the mainland shows results’, Foshan News Network, 25 April 2019, online. ↩︎
‘Interim measures for the management of Xinjiang’s Uyghur Autonomous Region’s rural surplus labour forces to transfer employment to reward funds’ (新疆维吾尔自治区农村富余劳动力转移就业以奖代补资金管理暂行办法), online. ↩︎
‘‘Six batches’ boosts employment of 100,000 people in Kashgar Prefecture and Hotan Prefecture in three years’ ( ’六个一批’ 助推喀什和田地区三年就业十万人), Xinhua News (新华网), 11 May 2017, online. The policies discussed in this notice include the ‘Organised transfer for employment for surplus labour in Kashgar and Hotan regions’ (喀什和田地区城乡富余劳动力有组织转移就业) and ‘Three-year poverty alleviation plan for poverty-stricken areas in four south Xinjiang prefectures’ (南疆四地州深度贫困地区就业扶贫三年计划) labour transfer initiatives, both of which include transfers inside and outside Xinjiang. ↩︎
Chipman Koty, Zhou, ‘A guide to minimum wages in China’. ↩︎
‘Our company provides a large number of government workers to dispatching companies in Xinjiang’ (我司提供大量政府新疆工人劳务派遣公司), Qingdao Human Resources Network (青岛德才人力资源网), online. ↩︎
Companies working with the Chinese government under the ‘Xinjiang Aid’ program receive incentives to open up ‘satellite factories’ (卫星工厂) or workshops inside Xinjiang to absorb ‘surplus labour capacity’ (富余劳动力). ↩︎
‘Despite earning a lot of money elsewhere, why did he travel so far to South Xinjiang to start a business?’ (在别处赚的盆满钵满,为何他要遣赴南疆开荒创业?), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), 15 October 2019, online; ‘Cooperative Brands’ (合作品牌), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), online. ↩︎
‘Guangdong’s aid to Xinjiang actively promotes the transfer of labour from the aided places to other provinces of China’ (广东援疆积极推动受援地劳动力向内地转移就业成效明显), Voice of Guangdong Aid (广东援疆之声), 23 June 2018, online. ↩︎
‘Guangdong’s aid to Xinjiang actively promotes the transfer of labour from the aided places to other provinces of China’ (广东援疆积极推动受援地劳动力向内地转移就业成效明显), Voice of Guangdong Aid (广东援疆之声), 23 June 2018, online. ↩︎
Enrolment in the ‘vocational’ facility has had an abnormally rapid increase since 2017. Official figures show that the school went from 500 students in 2013 to more than 7,000 in 2019; ‘Thanks to Foshan’s ‘Xinjiang Aid’ team, this girl from Payziwat county, Xinjiang, who wanted to drop out of school, is now a university student’ (因为佛山援疆干部,这位曾想辍学的新疆伽师姑娘成了大学生), Tencent (腾讯网), online. A mobile police station was set up at the entrance and 11 additional security checkpoints were built around its perimeter, which is fully enclosed by a tall fence and solid brick walls. Beginning in early 2017, seven new dormitory-style buildings were constructed alongside five prefabricated factory buildings, strongly suggesting that the former school was converted into a re-education camp where ethnic minorities are arbitrarily detained and politically indoctrinated. In August 2018, the school advertised for new officials to oversee the implementation of ‘military-style management’ (军事化管理) at the school, as it sought to ‘foster discipline and more closely watch over students’. Recruitment brochure of Jiashi Secondary Vocational Technical School (伽师县中等职业技术学校招聘简章), Payziwat county Human Resources Service Centre (伽师人力资源服务中心), Sohu, 9 August 2018, online. Satellite image collection and analysis conducted by Nathan Ruser, researcher at ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre. ↩︎
In its 2016–17 budget, the Guangdong government promised Ұ960 million for ‘Xinjiang Aid’ to bring 47,800 jobs to Xinjiang. The following year, the government brought in a number of companies, including HYP, to assist in opening satellite factories in Xinjiang. ‘Guangdong aids Xinjiang: letting people live and work in peace is most important to people’s livelihood’ (广东对口援疆:民生为重让百姓安居乐业), Xinjiang Morning Newspaper (新疆晨报), Sina Xinjiang (新浪新疆), 2 November 2018, online. ↩︎
‘Despite earning a lot of money elsewhere, why did he travel so far to South Xinjiang to start a business?’ (在别处赚的盆满钵满,为何他要赴南疆开荒创业?), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), 15 October 2019, online. ↩︎
Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. ↩︎
‘Apple CEO Cook tours O-Film Technology Co. Ltd: iPhone X/8 selfie screams “cheese”‘ (‘苹果CEO库克参观欧菲光科技:iPhone X/8自拍大喊’茄子’), IT Home (IT之家), 6 December 2017, online; The original Weibo post can only be accessed with a Weibo login, online; ‘Apple CEO Cook visits and praises the technical level and cultural environment of our company’ (苹果CEO库克来访 点赞我司技术水平和人文环境), O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, 7 December 2017, online. ↩︎
Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. ↩︎
‘Over 1200 surplus labourers from Lop county heads to mainland China for work’ (洛浦县1200余名城乡富余劳动力赴内地务工), Hotan Daily Newspaper (和田日报) via China Xinjiang, 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Over 1200 surplus labourers from Lop county heads to mainland China for work’ (洛浦县1200余名城乡富余劳动力赴内地务工), Hotan Daily Newspaper (和田日报) via China Xinjiang, 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Over 1200 surplus labourers from Lop county heads to mainland China for work’ (洛浦县1200余名城乡富余劳动力赴内地务工), Hotan Daily Newspaper (和田日报) via China Xinjiang, 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Apple CEO Cook visits and praises the technical level and cultural environment of our company’ (苹果CEO库克来访 点赞我司技术水平和人文环境), O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, 7 December 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Apple CEO Cook visits and praises the technical level and cultural environment of our company’ (苹果CEO库克来访 点赞我司技术水平和人文环境), O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, 7 December 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Hotan migrant workers find employment in Jiangxi Nanchang’s high-tech enterprises’ (和田外出务工人员在江西南昌高新企业就业掠影), Hotan People’s government (和田市人民政府), 8 April 2019, online. ↩︎
‘Xinjiang Lop county: Leave as industrial workers, return as excellent public speakers’ (新疆洛浦县:外出成产业工人 返乡是优秀宣讲员), Phoenix News (凤凰新闻), 12 December 2017, online. ↩︎
Henan aids Hami City, Xinjiang in advancing poverty alleviation’ (河南援疆助力哈密固提升脱贫攻坚), Hami City Party Building Net (哈密市党建网), 6 September 2019, online; David Barbosa, ‘How China Built ‘iPhone City’ With Billions in Perks for Apple’s Partner’, The New York Times, 29 December 2016, online. ↩︎
Jamie Condliffe, ‘Foxconn Is Under Scrutiny for Worker Conditions. It’s Not the First Time.’, The New York Times, 11 June 2018, online. ↩︎
‘Demystifying Zhengzhou’s Apple City: Half of the world’s iPhones are made here’ (揭秘郑州苹果城:全球一半iPhone产自这里), Tencent Technology (腾讯科技), 18 September 2017, online. ↩︎
Phoebe Zhang, ‘Apple iPhone 11 launch marred by claims Foxconn factory broke labour laws’, South China Morning Post, 9 September 2019, online. ↩︎
Jamie Fullerton, ‘Suicide at Chinese iPhone factory reignites concern over working conditions’, The Telegraph, 7 January 2018, online; Yuan Yang, ‘Apple’s iPhone X assembled by illegal student labour’, Financial Times, 21 November 2017, online. ↩︎
‘Precision poverty assistance, the Group enters Xinjiang’s Kashgar’ (助力精准扶贫集团走进新疆喀什地区), Foxconn, 5 December 2018, online. In 2018, a Foxconn media release claimed that the company had donated 15 televisions to an army unit in Xinjiang and money to a Kashgar hospital. Foxconn’s company Communist Party branch also established a ‘joint development’ relationship with a border checkpoint in Xinjiang. ↩︎
‘Xianning, Hubei, opens up a ‘green tunnel’ for Xinjiang’s organised labour export’ (咸宁为新疆籍有组织劳务输出开辟’ 绿色通道’ ), United Front of Jingchu (荆楚统战) via Headlines Express (看点快报), 18 May 2018, online. ↩︎
‘Xianning, Hubei, opens up a ‘green tunnel’ for Xinjiang’s organised labour export’ (咸宁为新疆籍有组织劳务输出开辟’ 绿色通道’ ), United Front of Jingchu (荆楚统战) via Headlines Express (看点快报), 18 May 2018, online. ↩︎
Lauly Li and Cheng Tingfang, ‘Exclusive: Apple turns to China to double AirPods Pro production’, Nikkei Asian Review, 27 November 2019, online. ↩︎
Ainur helps family realise ‘supermarket dream’ (阿依努尔助力家人实现’超市梦), Hotan government (和田政府网), 31 July 2019, online. ↩︎
Xinhua (新华网), ‘Uyghur Hefei—Ainur: Wishes come true 3,500 kilometres away’ (维吾尔族合肥-阿依努尔:愿望实现于3500公里之外), Chongqing News (重庆第一眼), 3 August 2019, online. ↩︎
‘Happiness is earned through struggle: girl from Pishan wants to stay in Hefei as a blue-collar worker’ ([幸福是奋斗出来的] 皮山姑娘要留在合肥当蓝领), Tianshan Net (天山网), 19 March 2018, online. ↩︎
The report also says that she was a student in Guma majoring in food processing. ↩︎
Huawei has a group-wide policy, signed in 2018, that acknowledges ‘the risk of modern slavery due to the complexity of global supply chains within the ICT industry’ and says it ‘will not tolerate forced, bonded (including debt bondage) or indentured labour, involuntary prison labour, slavery or trafficking of persons.’ The statement says that it audits its suppliers’ performance annually and discloses ‘records of all forced labour noncompliances’. Minglu Zhao, Statement on modern slavery, Huawei, 26 June 2018, online. ↩︎
William Gallagher, ‘China’s BOE set to become Apple’s second-largest OLED screen supplier in 2021’, Apple Insider, 30 December 2019, online. ↩︎
Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. In its Supplier Responsibility Policy, online, Apple says it has ‘zero tolerance’ for bonded labour, conducts investigations where it is discovered and has instituted other programs designed to improve protections for at-risk workers in its supply chains. ↩︎
‘Highbroad Advanced Material (Hefei) Co. Ltd’ (翰博高新才科(合肥)股份有限公司), online. ↩︎
‘Highbroad Advanced Material (Hefei) Co., Ltd’ (翰博高新才科(合肥)股份有限公司), China LCD Network (中华液晶网), online. ↩︎
‘Xinjiang Human Resources and Social Security Department: Strengthening labour cooperation in the region to promote long-term stable employment’ (新疆自治区人力资源和社会保障厅:强化区内劳务协作 促进长期稳定就业), Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, People’s Republic of China (中华人民共和国人力资源和社会保障部), 11 January 2019, online. ↩︎
‘Let the seeds of national unity be rooted in the heart—a note on the true love and care among minority women workers’ (让民族团结的种子根植于心——市妇联真情关爱少数民族女工侧记), Laixi government Net (莱西政府网), 9 October 2019, online. ↩︎
Lv Nanfang (吕楠芳), ‘Industry supports Xinjiang in ‘making blood’; women hold up half the sky!’ (产业援疆来’ 造血’ ,妇女撑起半边天!), From Guangzhou (羊城派), Sina (新浪网), 30 December 2019, online. ↩︎
The National People’s Congress of the People’s Republic of China, Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, 4 December 1982, online. ↩︎
See the United State’s Tariff Act of 1930, online, and Australia’s Modern Slavery Act 2018, online. ↩︎
Convention Concerning Forced or Compulsory Labour, 1930 (No.29), online. ↩︎
Convention Concerning the Abolition of Forced Labour, 1957 (No.105), online. ↩︎
Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention, 1930, online. ↩︎
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