Tag Archive for: Xinjiang

#StopXinjiang Rumors

The CCP’s decentralised disinformation campaign

Introduction

This report analyses two Chinese state-linked networks seeking to influence discourse about Xinjiang across platforms including Twitter and YouTube. This activity targeted the Chinese-speaking diaspora as well as international audiences, sharing content in a variety of languages.

Both networks attempted to shape international perceptions about Xinjiang, among other themes. Despite evidence to the contrary, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) denies committing human rights abuses in the region and has mounted multifaceted and multiplatform information campaigns to deny accusations of forced labourmass detentionsurveillancesterilisationcultural erasure and alleged genocide in the region. Those efforts have included using Western social media platforms to both push back against and undermine media reports, research and Uyghurs’ testimony about Xinjiang, as well as to promote alternative narratives.

In the datasets we examined, inauthentic and potentially automated accounts using a variety of image and video content shared content aimed at rebutting the evidence of human rights violations against the Uyghur population. Likewise, content was shared using fake Uyghur accounts and other shell accounts promoting video ‘testimonials’ from Uyghurs talking about their happy lives in China.

Our analysis includes two datasets removed by Twitter:

  • Dataset 1: ‘Xinjiang Online’ (CNHU) consisted of 2,046 accounts and 31,269 tweets.
  • Dataset 2: ‘Changyu Culture’ (CNCC) consisted of 112 accounts and 35,924 tweets.

The networks showed indications of being linked by theme and tactics; however, neither achieved significant organic engagement on Twitter overall—although there was notable interaction with the accounts of CCP diplomats. There were signs of old accounts being repurposed, whether purchased or stolen, and little attempt to craft authentic personas.

Twitter has attributed both datasets to the Chinese government, the latter dataset is specifically linked to a company called Changyu Culture, which is connected to the Xinjiang provincial government. This attribution was uncovered by ASPI ICPC in the report Strange bedfellows on Xinjiang: the CCP, fringe media and US social media platforms.

Key takeaways

Different strands of CCP online and offline information operations now interweave to create an increasingly coordinated propaganda ecosystem made up of CCP officials, state and regional media assets, outsourced influence-for-hire operators, social media influencers and covert information operations.

  • The involvement of the CCP’s regional government in Xinjiang in international-facing disinformation suggests that internal party incentive structures are driving devolved strands of information operations activity.
  • The CCP deploys online disinformation campaigns to distract from international criticisms of its policies and to attempt to reframe concepts such as human rights. It aligns the timing of those campaigns to take advantage of moments of strategic opportunity in the information domain.

Notable features of these datasets include:

  • Flooding the zone: While the networks didn’t attract significant organic engagement, the volume of material shared could potentially aim to ‘bury’ critical content on platforms such as YouTube.
  • Multiple languages: There was use of English and other non-Chinese languages to target audiences in other countries, beyond the Chinese diaspora.
  • Promotion of ‘testimonials’ from Uyghurs: Both datasets, but particularly CNCC, shared video of Uyghurs discussing their ‘happy’ lives in Xinjiang and rebutting allegations of human rights abuses. Some of those videos have been linked to a production company connected to the Xinjiang provincial government.
  • Promotion of Western social media influencer content: The CNHU network retweeted and shared content from social media influencers that favoured CCP narratives on Xinjiang, including interviews between influencers and state media journalists.
  • Interaction between network accounts and the accounts of CCP officials: While the networks didn’t attract much organic engagement overall, there were some notable interactions with diplomats and state officials. For example, 48% of all retweets by the CNHU network were of CCP state media and diplomatic accounts.
  • Cross-platform activity: Both networks shared video from YouTube and Douyin (the Chinese mainland version of TikTok), including tourism content about Xinjiang, as well as links to state media articles.
  • Self-referential content creation: The networks promoted state media articles, tweets and other content featuring material created as part of influence operations, including Uyghur ‘testimonial’ videos. Similarly, tweets and content featuring foreign journalists and officials discussing Xinjiang were promoted as ‘organic’, but in some cases were likely to have been created as part of curated state-backed tours of the region.
  • Repurposed spam accounts: Accounts in the CNCC dataset tweeted about Korean television dramas as well as sharing spam and porn material before tweeting Xinjiang content.
  • Potential use of automation: Accounts in both datasets showed signs of automation, including coordinated posting activity, the use of four letter codes (in the CNHU dataset) and misused hashtag symbols (in the CNCC dataset).
  • Persistent account building: ASPI ICPC independently identified additional accounts on Twitter and YouTube that exhibited similar behaviours to those in the two datasets, suggesting that accounts continue to be built across platforms as others are suspended.

The Chinese party-state and influence campaigns

The Chinese party-state continues to experiment with approaches to shape online political discourse, particularly on those topics that have the potential to disrupt its strategic objectives. International criticism of systematic abuses of human rights in the Xinjiang region is a topic about which the CCP is acutely sensitive.

In the first half of 2020, ASPI ICPC analysis of large-scale information operations linked to the Chinese state found a shift of focus towards US domestic issues, including the Black Lives Matter movement and the death of George Floyd (predominantly targeting Chinese-language audiences). This was the first marker of a shift in tactics since Twitter’s initial attribution of on-platform information operations to the Chinese state in 2019. The party-state’s online information operations were moving on from predominantly internal concerns and transitioning to assert the perception of moral equivalence between the CCP’s domestic policies in Xinjiang and human rights issues in democratic states, particularly the US. We see that effort to reframe international debate about human rights continuing in these most recent datasets. This shift also highlighted that CCP information operations deployed on US social media platforms could be increasingly entrepreneurial and agile in shifting focus to take advantage of strategic opportunities in the information domain.

The previous datasets that Twitter has released publicly through its information operations archive focused on a range of topics of broad interest to the CCP: the Hong Kong protests; the Taiwanese presidential election; the party-state’s Covid-19 recovery and vaccine diplomacy; and exiled Chinese businessman Guo Wengui and his relationship with former Trump White House chief strategist Steve Bannon. The datasets that we examine in this report are more specifically focused on the situation in Xinjiang and on attempts to showcase health and economic benefits of CCP policies to the Uyghur population and other minority groups in the region while overlooking and denying evidence of mass abuse. In both datasets, the emblematic #StopXinjiangRumors hashtag features prominently.

Traits in the data suggest that this operation may have been run at a more local level, including:

  • the amplification of regional news media, as well as Chinese state media outlets
  • the involvement of the Xinjiang-based company Changyu Culture and its relationship with the provincial government, which ASPI previously identified in Strange bedfellows on Xinjiang: the CCP, fringe media and US social media platforms by linking social media channels to the company, and the company to a Xinjiang regional government contract
  • an ongoing attempt to communicate through the appropriation of Uyghur voices
  • the use of ready-made porn and Korean soap opera fan account networks on Twitter that were likely to have been compromised, purchased or otherwise acquired, and then repurposed.

The CCP is a complex system, and directives from its elite set the direction for the party organs and underlings to follow. Propaganda serves to mobilise and steer elements within the party structure, as well as to calibrate the tone of domestic and international messaging. The party’s own incentive structures may be a factor that helps us understand the potential regional origins of the propaganda effort that we analyse in this report, and have identified previously. The China Media Project notes, for example, that local party officials are assessed on the basis of their contribution to this international communication work. It’s a contribution to building Beijing’s ‘discourse power’ as well as showing obedience to Xi Jinping’s directions.

The data displays features of the online ecosystem that the party has been building to expand its international influence. The networks that we analysed engaged consistently with Chinese state media as well as with a number of stalwart pro-CCP influencers. One strand of activity within the data continues attempts to discredit the BBC that ASPI and Recorded Future have previously reported on, but the real focus of this campaign is an effort to reframe political discourse about the concept of human rights in Xinjiang.

The CNHU dataset, in particular, offers a series of rebuttals to international critiques of CCP policy in Xinjiang. As we’ve noted, the network was active on issues related to health, such as life expectancy and population growth. CCP policies in the region are framed as counterterrorism responses as a way of attempting to legitimise actions, while negative information and testimonies of abuse are simply denied or not reported. The accounts also seek to promote benefits from CCP policies in Xinjiang, such as offering education and vocational training. The BBC and former US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo—the former having published reports about human rights abuses in the region, and the latter having criticised the party’s policies in the region—feature in the data in negative terms. This external focus on the BBC and Pompeo serves to reframe online discussion of Xinjiang and distract from the evidence of systematic abuse. For the CCP, both entities are sources of external threat, against which the party must mobilise.

Methodology

This analysis uses a quantitative analysis of Twitter data as well as qualitative analysis of tweet content.

In addition, it examines independently identified accounts and content on Twitter, YouTube and Douyin, among other platforms, that appear likely to be related to the network.

Both datasets include video media. That content was processed using SightGraph from AddAxis. SightGraph is a suite of artificial-intelligence and machine-learning capabilities for analysing inauthentic networks that disseminate disinformation. For this project, we used SightGraph to extract and autotranslate multilingual transcripts from video content. This facilitated extended phases of machine-learning-driven analysis to draw out ranked, meaningful linguistic data.

Likewise, images were processed using Yale Digital Humanities Laboratory’s PixPlot. PixPlot visualises a large image collection within an interactive WebGL scene. Each image was processed with an Inception convolutional neural network, trained on ImageNet 2012, and projected into a two-dimensional manifold with the UMAP algorithm such that similar images appear proximate to one another.

The combination of image and video analysis provided an overview of the narrative themes emerging from the media content related to the two Twitter datasets.

Twitter has identified the two datasets for quantitative analysis as being interlinked and associated via a combination of technical and behavioural signals. ICPC doesn’t have direct access to that non-public technical data. Twitter hasn’t released the methodology by which this dataset was selected, and the dataset may not represent a complete picture of Chinese state-linked information operations on Twitter.

The Twitter takedown data

This report analyses the content summarised in Table 1.

Table 1: Twitter dataset summaries

In both datasets, most of the tweeting activity seeking to deny human rights abuses in Xinjiang appears to have started around 2020. In the CNHU dataset, accounts appear to have been created for the purpose of disseminating Xinjiang-related material and began tweeting in April 2019 before ramping up activity in January 2021. That spike in activity aligns with the coordinated targeting of efforts to discredit the BBC that ASPI has previously identified. While some accounts in the CNCC dataset may have originally had a commercial utility, they were probably repurposed some time before 19 June 2020 (the date of the first tweet mentioning Xinjiang and Uyghurs in the dataset) and shifted to posting Xinjiang-related content. Former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo gave his attention-grabbing anti-CCP speech in July 2020, and criticism of him features significantly in both datasets.

Previous ASPI analysis identified Twitter spambot network activity in December 2019 to amplify articles published by the CCP’s People’s Daily tabloid, the Global Times (figures 1 and 2). The articles that were boosted denied the repression of Uyghurs in Xinjiang and attacked the credibility of individuals such as Mike Pompeo and media organisations such as the New York Times. It isn’t clear whether that network was connected to the CNHU and CNCC datasets, but similar behaviours were identified.

Figure 1: Tweets per month, coloured by tweet language, in CNHU dataset

Figure 2: Tweets per month, coloured by tweet language, in CNCC dataset[fig2]

An overview of the tweet text in both datasets shows that topics such as ‘Xinjiang’, ‘BBC’, ‘Pompeo’ and ‘Uyghur’ were common to both campaigns (Figure 3). While there were some tweets mentioning ‘Hong Kong’, specifically about the Covid-19 response in that region, this report focuses on content targeting Xinjiang-related issues.

Figure 3: Topic summary of tweet text posted between December 2019 and May 2021

In early 2021, the #StopXinjiangRumors hashtag was boosted by both networks. Accounts in the CNHU dataset were the first to use the hashtag, and many accounts potentially mistakenly used double hashtags (‘##StopXinjiangRumors’). Accounts in the CNCC dataset that were batch created in February 2021 appear to have posted tweets using the hashtag and tagged ‘Pompeo’ following the tweets posted by accounts in the CNHU dataset. The use of the hashtags may be coincidental, but the similarity of timing and narratives suggests some degree of coordination. #StopXinjiangRumors continues to be a hashtag on Twitter (as well as YouTube and Facebook).

The rest of this report presents the key insights from the two datasets in detail.
 

Dataset 1: CNHU

Dataset 1: CNHU – Key points

  • Nearly one in every two tweets (41%) contained either an image or a video. There were in total 12,400 images and 466 videos in the CNHU dataset.
  • This video and image content was aimed broadly at pushing back against allegations of human rights abuses in Xinjiang, particularly by presenting video footage of ‘happy’ Uyghurs participating in vocational training in Xinjiang, as well as screenshots of state media and government events promoting this content.
  • The network promoted phrases commonly used in CCP propaganda about Xinjiang, such as ‘Xinjiang is a wonderful land’ (新疆是个好地方)—the eighth most retweeted hashtag in the CNHU dataset.
  • In total, 48% (1,308) of all retweets by the network were of CCP state media and diplomatic accounts. The Global Times News account was the most retweeted (287), followed by the account of Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) spokesperson Hua Chunying (华春莹) (108).
  • While the network shared links to state media, YouTube and Facebook, many videos shared in the CNHU dataset appeared to have originated from Douyin.
  • The network worked to promote state media. Of all the tweets, 35% had links to external websites—mostly to Chinese state media outlets such as the China Daily, the China Global Television Network (CGTN) and the Global Times.
  • The network showed potential indicators of automation, including coordinated posting, the appearance of randomised four-letter digit codes in some tweets, and watermarked images.
  • The network tweeted and shared content in a variety of languages, including using Arabic and French hashtags, suggesting that it was targeting a broad audience.

Dataset 2: CNCC

Dataset 2: CNCC – Key points

  • The CNCC dataset contained a considerable amount of repurposed spam and porn accounts, as well as content linked to Korean music and television.
  • While there was a small amount of content about Hong Kong and other issues, most of the non-spam content related to Xinjiang. Much of that content sought to present ‘testimonials’ from Uyghurs talking about their happy lives in China.
  • Some of this content may be linked to a company called Changyu Culture, which is connected to the Xinjiang provincial government and was funded to create videos depicting Uyghurs as supportive of the Chinese Government’s policies in Xinjiang.
  • The network had a particular focus on former US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo: @蓬佩奥 or @‘Pompeo’ appears 438 times in the dataset. Likewise, video content shared by the network referenced Pompeo 386 times.

Download Report & Dataset Analysis

Readers are encouraged to download the report to access the full dataset analysis.


Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank the team at Twitter for advanced access to the two data sets analysed in this report, Fergus Hanson and Michael Shoebridge for review comments, and AddAxis for assistance applying AI in the analysis. ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre receives funding from a variety of sources, including sponsorship, research and project support from governments, industry and civil society. No specific funding was received to fund the production of 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, emerging and critical technologies, issues related to information and foreign interference and focuses on the impact these issues have on broader strategic policy. The centre has a growing mixture of expertise and skills with teams of researchers who concentrate on policy, technical analysis, information operations and disinformation, critical and emerging technologies, cyber capacity building, satellite analysis, surveillance and China-related issues.

The ICPC informs public debate in the Indo-Pacific region and supports public policy development by producing original, empirical, data-driven research. The ICPC enriches regional debates by collaborating with research institutes from around the world and by bringing leading global experts to Australia, including through fellowships. To develop capability in Australia and across the Indo-Pacific region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises for the public and private sectors.
We would like to thank all of those who support and contribute to the ICPC with their time, intellect and passion for the topics we work on. If you would like to support the work of the centre please contact: icpc@aspi.org.au.

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First published December 2021. ISSN 2209-9689 (online). ISSN 2209-9670 (print).

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Funding Statement: No specific funding was received to fund production of this report.

The architecture of repression

Unpacking Xinjiang’s governance

This report is a part of a larger online project which can be found on the Xinjiang Data Project website.

What’s the problem?

Since the mass internment of Uyghurs and other indigenous groups1 in China was first reported in 2017, there is now a rich body of literature documenting recent human rights abuses in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region.2 However, there is little knowledge of the actual perpetrators inside China’s vast and opaque party-state system, and responsibility is often broadly attributed to the Chinese Communist Party,3 Xinjiang Party Secretary Chen Quanguo,4 or President Xi Jinping himself.5

For accountability, it is necessary to investigate how China’s campaign against the Uyghurs has been implemented and which offices and individuals have played a leading part. The current knowledge gap has exposed international companies and organisations to inadvertent engagement with Chinese officials who have facilitated the atrocities in Xinjiang. It has also prevented foreign governments from making targeted policy responses.

Finally, it is essential to carry out such an investigation now. Amid debate internationally about whether the recent events in Xinjiang constitute genocide,6 Chinese officials are actively scrubbing relevant evidence and seeking to silence those who speak out.7

Figure 1: A ‘resist infiltration, snatch the two-faced’ mass oath for school teachers in Hotan Prefecture in 2017. Many women are visibly crying.

Source: ‘Ten thousand teachers in Hotan Prefecture take part in ‘speak up and brandish the sword’ mass oath in Keriye County’ [和田地区万名教师集体发 声亮剑宣讲宣誓大会在于田举行], Keriye County official WeChat account [于田零距离], 16 June 2017, online.

What’s the solution?

This project maps and analyses the governance mechanisms employed by the Chinese party-state in Xinjiang from 2014 to 2021 within the context of the region’s ongoing human rights crisis. To that end, the authors have located and scrutinised thousands of Chinese-language sources,8 including leaked police records9 and government budget documents never before published. This archive of sources is made publicly available for the use of others.

For policymakers, this report will provide an evidence base to inform policy responses including possible sanctions. For the general public and anyone whose interests are linked to Xinjiang and China more broadly, this project can inform risk analysis and ethical considerations.

Finally, a detailed understanding of Xinjiang’s governance structures and processes and their relationship to wider national policies can contribute to a more concrete understanding of the Chinese party-state and its volatility.

Figure 2: American brand Nike was implicated in Xinjiang’s coercive labour transfer schemes. Uyghurs transferred from Xinjiang receive Chinese language and indoctrination classes at Nike’s contractor Taekwang factory in Qingdao, Shandong, around June 2019.

Source: ‘Municipal United Front Work Department conducts Mandarin training at Qingdao Taekwang “Pomegranate Seed” Night School’ [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 official WeChat account [莱西统一战线], 1 July 2019, online.

Executive Summary

The project consists of two parts.

  • An interactive organisational chart of some 170 administrative entities that have participated in Xinjiang’s governance since 2014. The chart includes a brief profile of each party, government, military, paramilitary and hybrid entity at different bureaucratic layers, and more.10
  • This report, which highlights the governance techniques and bureaucratic structures that have operationalised the Chinese party-state’s most recent campaigns against the Uyghurs in Xinjiang.

The report is structured as follows.

Section 1: Background

This section is an introduction to the 2014 Counterterrorism Campaign and the 2017 Re-education Campaign in Xinjiang, which represent a top-down response to the perceived radicalisation of Uyghur society and a systematic effort to transform Xinjiang and its indigenous inhabitants.

Section 2: The return of mass campaigns

The crackdown against the Uyghurs has a striking resemblance to Mao-era political campaigns. ASPI can reveal that, in addition to mass internment and coercive labour assignments, Xinjiang residents are also compelled to participate in acts of political theatre, such as mass show trials, public denunciation sessions, loyalty pledges, sermon-like ‘propaganda lectures’, and chants for Xi Jinping’s good health. In doing so, they’re mobilised to attack shadowy enemies hiding among the people: the so-called ‘three evil forces’ and ‘two-faced people’.

Despite widespread recognition that mass political campaigns are ‘costly and burdensome’, in the words of Xi Jinping, the party-state has again resorted to them in Xinjiang. This section analyses the party-state’s reflexive compulsion for campaigns, and campaign-style governance, which is an intrinsic feature of the Chinese political system that’s often overlooked in the current English-language literature.

Section 3: Hegemony at the grassroots

ASPI researchers have gained rare and in-depth insights into Xinjiang’s local governance after analysing thousands of pages of leaked police files. This section focuses on the case of one Uyghur family in Ürümqi. Like at least 1.8 million other Uyghurs, Anayit Abliz, then 18, was caught using a file-sharing app in 2017. He was interned in a re-education camp and eventually ‘sentenced’ by his Neighbourhood Committee—a nominally service-oriented voluntary organisation responsible for local party control.

While he was detained, officials from the Neighbourhood Committee visited his family members six times in a single week, scrutinizing the family’s behaviours and observing whether they were emotionally stable.

Draconian control measures are typical of mass political campaigns, including those in Xinjiang.

During the crackdown against the Uyghurs, authorities implemented five key policies (including the ‘Trinity’ mechanism, which is first reported by ASPI here) that led to the unprecedented penetration of the party-state system into the daily lives of Xinjiang residents. Those policies gave Xinjiang’s neighbourhood and village officials exceptional power to police residents’ movements and emotions, resulting in the disturbing situation in which a Uyghur teenager’s social media posts about finding life hopeless were deemed a threat to stability and triggered police action.

Xinjiang’s community-based control mechanisms are part of a national push to enhance grassroots governance, which seeks to mobilise the masses to help stamp out dissent and instability and to increase the party’s domination in the lowest reaches of society.

Section 4: The party’s knife handle

Many Uyghurs become suspects after being flagged by the Integrated Joint Operations Platform (IJOP), which is a ‘system of systems’ where officials communicate and millions of investigations are assigned for local follow-up.

ASPI can reveal that the IJOP11 is managed by Xinjiang’s Political and Legal Affairs Commission (PLAC) through a powerful new organ called the Counterterrorism and Stability Maintenance Command,12 which is a product of the Re-education Campaign. One source states that a local branch of the command monitors the re-education camps remotely.

The PLAC is a party organ that oversees China’s law-and-order system, which is responsible for Xinjiang’s mass detention system. The PLAC’s influence tends to grow during times of mass campaigns, and the budget and responsibilities of the Xinjiang PLAC have expanded significantly in recent years— despite efforts by Xi Jinping to abate its status nationally. Two other factors may have contributed to the PLAC’s predominance in Xinjiang: its control over powerful surveillance technologies employed during the two campaigns, and a 2010 governance model in Ürümqi called ‘the big PLAC’, which was masterminded by Zhu Hailun, who is considered by some to be the architect of the re-education camp system.

Section 5: Weaponising the law

Law enforcement in Xinjiang is hasty, harsh and frequently arbitrary. Senior officials have promulgated new laws and regulations that contradict existing ones in order to accomplish the goals and targets of the campaigns; on the ground, local officers openly boast about acting outside normal legal processes, and their voices are sometimes amplified by state media. ASPI has found evidence that some neighbourhood officials in Ürümqi threatened to detain whole families in an attempt to forcefully evict them from the area.

Many Uyghurs have been detained for cultural or religious expressions, but police records reveal that low-level officials have also interned Xinjiang residents for appearing to be ‘dissatisfied with society’ or lacking a fixed address or stable income. In one case, Uyghur man Ekrem Imin was detained because his ‘neighbourhood police officer was trying to fill quotas’. As reported by Ürümqi police, he then contracted hepatitis B (which went untreated) as well as syphilis inside Xinjiang’s, and China’s biggest detention facility.13 This raises further questions about the conditions inside Xinjiang’s re-education facilities.

Efforts to weaponise the law in Xinjiang mirror wider legal reforms under Xi Jinping, where previous ideals about procedural accountability and judicial independence have been cast aside and the law is now openly used to tighten the party’s grip over society and eliminate social opposition.

Section 6: The frontline commanders

County party secretaries are the most senior officials at the local level in China, and their role is crucial to the regime’s survival, according to Xi Jinping. In Xinjiang, they oversee the day-to-day operations of the two campaigns. Researchers at ASPI have compiled a dataset of Xinjiang’s county party secretaries over the past seven years and found that the vast majority of these ‘frontline commanders’ are Han.

At the time of writing (September 2021), not a single county party secretary in Xinjiang is Uyghur, which speaks to the erasure of once-promised ethnic self-rule, and to deeply entrenched racism at the heart of the Han-dominated party-state system.

This section profiles three of the most celebrated county party secretaries in Xinjiang. Yao Ning, a darling of the Chinese media for his elite academic background at Tsinghua and Harvard universities.

Claiming absolute loyalty to the party-state from a young age, Yao now sits at the top of a chain of command over nine newly built or expanded detention facilities in Maralbeshi County.14 He has struggled with mounting pressure and the death of a close colleague due to exhaustion, but finds solace in quotes by both Mao and Xi.

Yang Fasen, who pioneered new governance tools during the campaigns, was recently promoted to vice governor of Xinjiang. His innovative propaganda templates—that the authorities dubbed the ‘Bay County Experience’—were copied by other counties in Xinjiang during the Counterterrorism Campaign. During a 2015 speech in front of Xi Jinping in Beijing, Yang claimed that subjecting undereducated Uyghur youth to labour reform (a practice that became commonplace later in the Re-education Campaign) can improve social stability.

Both Yao Ning and Yang Fasen are from the majority ethnic group in China, the Han. The third profile is of Obulqasim Mettursun, a Uyghur official, who like most Uyghurs serve in a deputy position under a Han overseer. He went viral after penning an open letter pleading with fellow Uyghurs to ‘wake up’ and actively participate in the party-state’s stability maintenance efforts. He represents an ideologically captured and dependent class of Uyghur officials committed to serving the party in largely ceremonial roles.

Section 7: ‘There is no department that doesn’t have something to do with stability’

During Xinjiang’s two campaigns, few offices or officials can escape the political responsibility of ‘stability maintenance’ work. At times, repressive policies have been carried out by the most innocent-sounding, obscure government agencies, such as the Forestry Bureau, which looked after Kashgar City’s re-education camp accounts for a year.

The final section highlights the astounding number of offices involved in key aspects of the Chinese party-state’s crackdown in Xinjiang: propaganda, re-education, at-home surveillance and indoctrination, forced labour and population control. Extra emphasis has been placed on propaganda as it has been the least reported aspect of the two campaigns, albeit highly important.

In Xinjiang, re-education work not only occurs in so-called ‘vocational education and training centres’, but is also front and centre in everyday life, as the party-state seeks to alter how people act and speak. Through more than seven years of intense propaganda work, Uyghurs and other indigenous groups now find themselves being assigned fictional Han relatives, and being taught how to dress and maintain their homes;15 their courtyards are ‘modernised’ and ‘beautified’16 while their ancient tombs and mosques are destroyed.17

Section 8: Conclusion

Xinjiang’s bureaucratic inner workings reflect a wider pattern of authoritarian rule in China. In fact, some governance techniques used in Xinjiang during the two campaigns were conceived elsewhere, and Xinjiang’s ‘stability maintenance’ tools are increasingly replicated by other Chinese provinces and regions including Hong Kong. Further research should be conducted on campaign-style governance in China in general, and its policy implications. Further studies on the cycle of collective trauma through China’s recurring campaigns may also be timely, taking into consideration that many senior Chinese officials, including Xi Jinping and Zhu Hailun, claimed that their personal experiences of being ‘re-educated’ through hard labour have been transformative.

Appendixes

ASPI researchers have curated three appendixes of key Xinjiang officials who have served in party, government, military, or paramilitary roles at the regional, prefecture and county levels from 2014 to 2021. In the sixth section of this report, the frontline commanders, the authors used the third appendix — the names and basic information about Xinjiang’s more than 440 county party secretaries over the last seven years — to generate data for analysis and visualisation. The appendixes have not been published but we will consider requests to access this research.

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Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank researchers Emile Dirks, Aston Kwok, Kate Wong, Nyrola Elima, Nathan Ruser and Kelsey Munro for their invaluable contributions to this project, and Fergus Hanson and Danielle Cave for their guidance and support.

Thank you to peer reviewers who provided excellent feedback, including Darren Byler, Timothy Grose, Sam Tynen, Samantha Hoffman, Peter Mattis, Michael Shoebridge and Edward Schwarck. Thank you also to Yael Grauer, who shared access to the Ürümqi Police Records. The opinions and analysis presented in this report are those of the authors alone, who are also responsible for any errors or omissions. The UK Foreign, Commonwealth & Development Office provided ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) with a grant of A$116,770 for this project, of which this report is a key output. Other components of the project can be found at the Xinjiang Data Project website: https://xjdp.aspi.org.au/. Additional research costs were covered from ASPI ICPC’s mixed revenue base—which spans governments, industry and civil society. This project would not have been possible without 2020–21 funding from the US State Department, which supports the Xinjiang Data 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. 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.

ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre

ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber, emerging and critical technologies, issues related to information and foreign interference and focuses on the impact these issues have on broader strategic policy. The centre has a growing mixture of expertise and skills with teams of researchers who concentrate on policy, technical analysis, information operations and disinformation, critical and emerging technologies, cyber capacity building, satellite analysis, surveillance and China-related issues. The ICPC informs public debate in the Indo-Pacific region and supports public policy development by producing original, empirical, data-driven research. The ICPC enriches regional debates by collaborating with research institutes from around the world and by bringing leading global experts to Australia, including through fellowships. To develop capability in Australia and across the Indo-Pacific region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises for the public and private sectors. We would like to thank all of those who support and contribute to the ICPC with their time, intellect and passion for the topics we work on. If you would like to support the work of the centre please contact: icpc@aspi.org.au

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.

© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2021

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 October 2021. ISSN 2209-9689 (online). ISSN 2209-9670 (print)

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Funding Statement: This project was in part funded by the UK Foreign, Commonwealth & Development Office.

  1. The Chinese party-state officially recognises 56 minzu (民族) groups in China: a single Han majority and 55 numerically much smaller groups that currently make up nearly 9% of China’s population. The term minzu is deeply polysemic and notoriously difficult to translate. Depending on the context of its use, the term can connote concepts similar to ‘nation’, ‘race’, ‘people’ and ‘ethnicity’ in English. Party officials initially used the English term ‘nationality’ to render the term into English. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the party gradually pivoted away from nationality, preferring the term ‘ethnic minorities’ for the non-Han groups and reserving the term ‘nation’ for the collective identity and name of the ‘Chinese nation-race’ (中华民族). See James Leibold, ‘The minzu net: China’s fragmented national form,’ Nations and Nationalism, 2016, 22(3):425–428. While party officials reject any assertion of indigeneity in China, Harvard historian Mark Elliott argues that China’s non-Han peoples are better thought of as indigenous communities rather than as ‘ethnic minorities’, which is a term widely used to refer to migrant populations in places such Canada or Australia, as these groups ‘continue to live on lands to which they have reasonably strong ancestral claims; in their encounter with the majority Other, all of them assume the status of “natives” vis-a-vis the representatives of a central (often formerly colonial or quasi-colonial) government from the outside; and all of them find themselves in positions of relative weakness as a result of an asymmetrical power structure, often the consequence of technological inferiority.’ Mark Elliott, ‘The case of the missing indigene: debate over a “second- generation” ethnic policy’, The China Journal, 2015, 73:207, online. Throughout this report and our website, we’ve used the terms ‘indigenous’, ‘ethnic minority’ and ‘nationality’ interchangeably to gloss the term minzu, depending on the context. When we refer to the Uyghurs generically, we’re also referring to other Turkic communities in Xinjiang: the Kazakhs, Tajiks, Kyrgyzs and Uzbeks who have also been targeted in China’s crackdown in Xinjiang. ↩︎
  2. For two online repositories of this now vast literature see The Xinjiang Data Project, ASPI, Canberra, online, and The Xinjiang Documentation Project, University of British Columbia, online. ↩︎
  3. ‘China: Crimes against humanity in Xinjiang: Mass detention, torture, cultural persecution of Uyghurs, other Turkic Muslims’, Human Rights Watch, 19 April 2021, online; Sheena Chestnut Greitens, Myunghee Lee, Emir Yazici, ‘Counterterrorism and preventive repression: China’s changing strategy in Xinjiang’, International Security, Winter 2019–20, 44(3), online. ↩︎
  4. ‘“Eradicating ideological viruses”—China’s campaign of repression against Xinjiang’s Muslims’, Human Rights Watch, 9 September 2018, online; Chun Hang Wong, ‘China’s hard edge: the leader of Beijing’s Muslim crackdown gains influence’, The Wall Street Journal, 7 April 2019, online; Adrian Zenz, James Leibold, ‘Chen Quanguo: The strongman behind Beijing’s securitization strategy in Tibet and Xinjiang’, China Brief, 21 September 2017, 17(12), online. ↩︎
  5. James Leibold, ‘The spectre of insecurity: the CCP’s mass internment strategy in Xinjiang’, China Leadership Monitor, 1 March 2019, online; Austin Ramzy, Chris Buckley, ‘“Absolutely no mercy”: Leaked files expose how China organised mass detentions of Muslims’, The New York Times, 16 November 2019, online; Adrian Zenz, ‘Evidence of the Chinese central government’s knowledge of and involvement in Xinjiang’s re-education internment campaign’, China Brief, 14 September 2021, online. ↩︎
  6. Martin S Flaherty, ‘Repression by any other name: Xinjiang and the genocide debate’, The Diplomat, 3 August 2021, online; James Leibold, ‘Beyond Xinjiang: Xi Jinping’s ethnic crackdown’, The Diplomat, 1 May 2021, online; Joanne Smith Finley, ‘Why scholars and activists increasingly fear a Uyghur genocide in Xinjiang’, Journal of Genocide Research, 2021, 23(3):348–370. ↩︎
  7. Lily Kuo, Gerry Shih, ‘China researchers face abuse, sanctions as Beijing looks to silence critics’, Washington Post, 7 April 2021, online; ‘China scrubs evidence of Xinjiang clampdown amid “genocide” debate’, The Washington Post, 17 March 2021, online; Rebecca Wright, Ivan Watson, ‘She tweeted from Sweden about the plight of her Uyghur cousin. In Xinjiang, the authorities were watching’, CNN, 17 December 2020, online. ↩︎
  8. These sources include English and Chinese-language academic papers, local media reports and official party and state documents. ↩︎
  9. The Ürümqi Police Records were provided to ASPI by journalist Yael Grauer, who wrote for The Intercept about the database, and has since left the outlet. See Yael Grauer, ‘Revealed: Massive Chinese police database’, The Intercept, 29 January 2021, online. ↩︎
  10. It also walks the viewer through the offices involved in several key aspects of the crackdown against Uyghurs: propaganda, re-education, Fanghuiju, forced labour and population control. The chart isn’t meant to be a comprehensive picture of the vast Chinese bureaucracy but rather an illustrative snapshot of the different levels of the Chinese bureaucracy that played an active role in designing, coordinating or implementing the party’s policies in Xinjiang, from the central level in Beijing to the villages and neighbourhoods in Xinjiang. ↩︎
  11. Integrated Joint Operations Platform [一体化联合作战平台]. ↩︎
  12. Counterterrorism and Stability Maintenance Command [反恐维稳指挥部]. ↩︎
  13. This case was first publicised by the Xinjiang Victims Database (@shaitbiz), ‘Some months ago, XJ officials told visiting journalists that the Dabancheng facility in Ürümqi was never a camp [Tweet]’, Twitter, 27 August 2019, online. The Associated Press reported that the detention centre was the largest in the world. See Dake Kang, ‘Room for 10,000:
    Inside China’s largest detention center’, The Associated Press, 1 December 2018, online. ↩︎
  14. See the map and dataset at The Xinjiang Data Project, ASPI, Canberra, online. ↩︎
  15. ‘“Home School” Initiative enters village households, “beautifying” the lives of villagers’ [“家庭学校”进农户活动让村民生活“靓”起来], Qingfeng Net [清风网], 20 November 2019, online. ↩︎
  16. Timothy A. Grose, ‘If you don’t know how, just learn’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 06 July 2020, online. ↩︎
  17. Nathan Ruser, ‘Cultural erasure: Tracing the destruction of Uyghur and Islamic spaces in Xinjiang’, ASPI, Canberra, 24 September 2020, online. ↩︎

Cultural erasure

Tracing the destruction of Uyghur and Islamic spaces in Xinjiang

This report is supported by a companion website, the Xinjiang Data Project.

What’s the problem?

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

Source: Anon, “Yecheng kagilik jame,” Mapio Net, nd., online.

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

Source: ASPI ICPC; the raw numbers are online.

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.

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.

ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre 

ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber, emerging and critical technologies, issues related to information and foreign interference and focuses on the impact these issues have on broader strategic policy. The centre has a growing mixture of expertise and skills with teams of researchers who concentrate on policy, technical analysis, information operations and disinformation, critical and emerging technologies, cyber capacity building, satellite analysis, surveillance and China-related issues.

The ICPC informs public debate in the Indo-Pacific region and supports public policy development by producing original, empirical, data-driven research. The ICPC enriches regional debates by collaborating with research institutes from around the world and by bringing leading global experts to Australia, including through fellowships. To develop capability in Australia and across the Indo-Pacific region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises for the public and private sectors.

We would like to thank all of those who support and contribute to the ICPC with their time, intellect and passion for the topics we work on.

If you would like to support the work of the centre please contact: icpc@aspi.org.au

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.

© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2020

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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

  1. 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. ↩︎
  2. ‘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. ↩︎
  3. 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. ↩︎
  4. 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. ↩︎
  5. 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. ↩︎
  6. State Council Information Office (SCIO), ‘Cultural protection and development in Xinjiang’, PRC Government, November 2018, online. ↩︎
  7. 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. ↩︎

Genomic surveillance

Inside China’s DNA dragnet

What’s the problem?

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

Source: ‘YSTR database application system’ (YSTR数据库应用系统), Hisign Technology (北京海鑫科金高科技股份有限公司网), online.

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).

Figure 25: Inputting genealogical information, Tongchuan, Shaanxi Province, August 2018 (cropped)

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. ]]

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Readers are urged to download the full report PDF for the full sources, citations and references.


Acknowledgements

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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First published June 2020.

ISSN 2209-9689 (online)
ISSN 2209-9670 (print)

Uyghurs for sale

‘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.

Figure 13: Hao Yuanpeng’s Kashgar, Xinjiang factory.

Source: Photos of company(企业展示), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司)’, online.

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

Figure 16: Uyghur workers arriving at Hubei Yihong Precision Manufacturing Co. Ltd

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.

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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.

© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2020

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First published February 2020.

ISSN 2209-9689 (online),
ISSN 2209-9670 (print)

  1. 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. ↩︎
  2. ‘Detention camps’ and ‘re-education camps’ are used interchangeably in this paper. ↩︎
  3. ‘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. ↩︎
  4. 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. ↩︎
  5. ‘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. ↩︎
  6. 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’. ↩︎
  7. Rick Noack, ‘In a first, 22 nations condemned China’s repression of Uigher Muslims. Without the US’, The Washington Post, 12 July 2019 ↩︎
  8. See the United State’s Tariff Act of 1930, online, and Australia’s Modern Slavery Act 2018. ↩︎
  9. Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention, 1930. ↩︎
  10. 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. ↩︎
  11. James Leibold, ‘Despite China’s denials, its treatment of the Uyghurs should be called what it is: cultural genocide’, The Conversation, 24 July 2019. ↩︎
  12. Rob Schmitz, ‘Ex-detainee describes torturer in China’s Xinjiang re-education camp’, NPR, 13 November 2018. ↩︎
  13. Mu Xuequan, ‘China Focus: Xinjiang determined in counter-terrorism, deradicalization, maintaining development’, Xinhua Net, 10 December 2019. ↩︎
  14. ‘Trainees in Xinjiang education, training program have all graduated’, Xinhua, 9 December 2019. ↩︎
  15. 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. ↩︎
  16. 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. ↩︎
  17. 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. ↩︎
  18. This estimate is based on data collected from Chinese state media and official government notices. ↩︎
  19. ‘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. ↩︎
  20. Chris Buckley and Austin Ramzy, ‘Inside China’s push to turn Muslim minorities into an army of workers’, New York Times, 30 December 2019. ↩︎
  21. 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. ↩︎
  22. 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. ↩︎
  23. 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. ↩︎
  24. Special Action Programme to Combat Forced Labour, ILO indicators of forced labour, International Labour Organization, 1 October 2012. ↩︎
  25. 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. ↩︎
  26. ‘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. ↩︎
  27. 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. ↩︎
  28. 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. ↩︎
  29. 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. ↩︎
  30. 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. ↩︎
  31. ‘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. ↩︎
  32. 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. ↩︎
  33. 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. ↩︎
  34. ‘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. ↩︎
  35. 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. ↩︎
  36. Cao Siqi, ‘Vocational centers in Xinjiang will disappear when society no longer needs them: official’, Global Times, 12 March 2019. ↩︎
  37. ‘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. ↩︎
  38. ‘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 ↩︎
  39. A Chinese messaging app. ↩︎
  40. 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. ↩︎
  41. ‘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. ↩︎
  42. ‘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. ↩︎
  43. 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. ↩︎
  44. Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
  45. Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
  46. 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. ↩︎
  47. ‘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. ↩︎
  48. ‘Group profile’, Jeongsan International, no date, online; ‘Nike Global Manufacturing data export—filters applied: ((none))’ Nike, August 2019. ↩︎
  49. ‘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. ↩︎
  50. ‘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. ↩︎
  51. ‘Muslim minority in China’s Xinjiang face ‘political indoctrination’: Human Rights Watch’, Reuters, 10 September 2018. ↩︎
  52. 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. ↩︎
  53. 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 ↩︎
  54. A department under the CCP’s Central Committee. ↩︎
  55. ‘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. ↩︎
  56. ‘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. ↩︎
  57. Anna Fifield, ‘China compels Uighurs to work in shoe factory that supplies Nike’, Washington Post, 29 February 2020, online. ↩︎
  58. 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. ↩︎
  59. ‘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. ↩︎
  60. 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. ↩︎
  61. ‘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. ↩︎
  62. ‘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. ↩︎
  63. ‘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. ↩︎
  64. ‘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. ↩︎
  65. 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. ↩︎
  66. Austin Ramzy, ‘He needed a Job. China gave him one: locking up his fellow Muslims’, New York Times, 2 March 2019, online. ↩︎
  67. ‘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. ↩︎
  68. Alexander Chipman Koty, Qian Zhou, ‘A guide to minimum wages in China’, China Briefing, 2 January 2020, online. ↩︎
  69. 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. ↩︎
  70. James Leibold, ‘Ethnic policy in China: is reform inevitable?’, Policy Studies, 2013, no. 68, East–West Center, online. ↩︎
  71. 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. ↩︎
  72. 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. ↩︎
  73. Tania Branigan, ‘Ethnic violence in China leaves 140 dead’, The Guardian, 6 July 2009, online. ↩︎
  74. ‘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. ↩︎
  75. Li Yuhui, China’s assistance program in Xinjiang, Lexington Books, Lanham, Maryland, 2018. ↩︎
  76. 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. ↩︎
  77. James Leibold, ‘The spectre of insecurity: the CCP’s mass internment strategy in Xinjiang’, China Leadership Monitor, 59 (Spring 2019), online. ↩︎
  78. 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. ↩︎
  79. ‘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. ↩︎
  80. 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. ↩︎
  81. ‘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. ↩︎
  82. 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. ↩︎
  83. 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. ↩︎
  84. ‘Company introduction’ (公司简介), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), online. ↩︎
  85. 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. ↩︎
  86. 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. ↩︎
  87. 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. ↩︎
  88. 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. ↩︎
  89. ‘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. ↩︎
  90. ‘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. ↩︎
  91. ‘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. ↩︎
  92. 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. ↩︎
  93. 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. ↩︎
  94. 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. ↩︎
  95. ‘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. ↩︎
  96. ‘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. ↩︎
  97. A Chinese search engine. ↩︎
  98. 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. ↩︎
  99. ‘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. ↩︎
  100. ‘‘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. ↩︎
  101. Chipman Koty, Zhou, ‘A guide to minimum wages in China’. ↩︎
  102. ‘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. ↩︎
  103. 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). ↩︎
  104. ‘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. ↩︎
  105. ‘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. ↩︎
  106. ‘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. ↩︎
  107. 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. ↩︎
  108. 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. ↩︎
  109. ‘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. ↩︎
  110. Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. ↩︎
  111. ‘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. ↩︎
  112. Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. ↩︎
  113. ‘About us’, O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, online; ‘CMOS camera module’, O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, online. ↩︎
  114. ‘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. ↩︎
  115. ‘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. ↩︎
  116. ‘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. ↩︎
  117. ‘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. ↩︎
  118. ‘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. ↩︎
  119. ‘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. ↩︎
  120. ‘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. ↩︎
  121. 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. ↩︎
  122. Jamie Condliffe, ‘Foxconn Is Under Scrutiny for Worker Conditions. It’s Not the First Time.’, The New York Times, 11 June 2018, online. ↩︎
  123. ‘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. ↩︎
  124. Phoebe Zhang, ‘Apple iPhone 11 launch marred by claims Foxconn factory broke labour laws’, South China Morning Post, 9 September 2019, online. ↩︎
  125. 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. ↩︎
  126. ‘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. ↩︎
  127. ‘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. ↩︎
  128. ‘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. ↩︎
  129. ‘Yidong Overview’ (奕东简介), Dongguan Yidong Electronic Co. Ltd (东莞市奕东电子有限公司), online. ↩︎
  130. ‘Collaborative customers’ (合作客户), Dongguan Yidong Electronic Co. Ltd (东莞市奕东电子有限公司), online. ↩︎
  131. Lauly Li and Cheng Tingfang, ‘Exclusive: Apple turns to China to double AirPods Pro production’, Nikkei Asian Review, 27 November 2019, online. ↩︎
  132. 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. ↩︎
  133. 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. ↩︎
  134. ‘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. ↩︎
  135. The report also says that she was a student in Guma majoring in food processing. ↩︎
  136. Annual report (年度报告), Highbroad Advanced Material (Hefei) Co., Ltd. (翰博高新才科(合肥)股份有限公司), 2018, online. ↩︎
  137. 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. ↩︎
  138. William Gallagher, ‘China’s BOE set to become Apple’s second-largest OLED screen supplier in 2021’, Apple Insider, 30 December 2019, online. ↩︎
  139. 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. ↩︎
  140. ‘Highbroad Advanced Material (Hefei) Co. Ltd’ (翰博高新才科(合肥)股份有限公司), online. ↩︎
  141. ‘Highbroad Advanced Materials (Hefei) Co., Ltd.’ (翰博高新材科(合肥)股份有限公司), 51Job, online. ↩︎
  142. ‘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. ↩︎
  143. ‘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. ↩︎
  144. ‘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. ↩︎
  145. 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. ↩︎
  146. The National People’s Congress of the People’s Republic of China, Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, 4 December 1982, online. ↩︎
  147. See the United State’s Tariff Act of 1930, online, and Australia’s Modern Slavery Act 2018, online. ↩︎
  148. Convention Concerning Forced or Compulsory Labour, 1930 (No.29), online. ↩︎
  149. Convention Concerning the Abolition of Forced Labour, 1957 (No.105), online. ↩︎
  150. Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention, 1930, online. ↩︎

Mapping Xinjiang’s ‘re-education’ camps

This report by ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre collates and adds to the current open-source research into China’s growing network of extrajudicial ‘re-education’ camps in Xinjiang province.

The report contributes new research, while also bringing together much of the existing research into a single database. This work has included cross-referencing multiple points of evidence to corroborate claims that the listed facilities are punitive in nature and more akin to prison camps than what the Chinese authorities call ‘transformation through education centres’.

By matching various pieces of documentary evidence with satellite imagery of the precise locations of various camps, this report helps consolidate, confirm and add to evidence already compiled by other researchers.

Key takeaways

  • This ASPI ICPC report covers 28 locations, a small sample of the total network of re-education camps in Xinjiang. Estimates of the total number vary, but recent media reports have identified roughly 180 facilities and some estimates range as high as 1,200 across the region.
  • Since early 2016 there has been a 465% growth in the size of the 28 camps identified in this report.1 2
  • As of late September 2018—across the 28 camps analysed—this report has measured a total of 2,700,000 m2 of floor space, which is the equivalent of 43 Melbourne Cricket Ground stadiums.
  • The greatest growth over this period occurred across the most recent quarter analysed (July, August and September 2018), which saw 700,000 m2 of floor space being added across the 28 camps.
  • Some individual facilities have experienced exponential growth in size since they were repurposed and/or constructed. For example, a facility in Hotan that the New York Times reported on in September 20183 expanded from 7,000 m2 in early 2016 to 172,850 m2 by September 2018—a 2469.29% increase over an approximately 18-month period.
  • The growth in construction has increased at a considerably faster pace in the summer months, with a spike in construction during the third quarters of both 2017 and 2018.

Introduction

China’s censors have been expunging evidence of the country’s vast network of extrajudicial ‘re-education’ camps in Xinjiang province from the internet just as fast as researchers have been finding it.

From first-hand testimony to satellite imagery, researchers have now provided empirical data that authoritatively paints a picture of the extent of China’s biggest human rights abuse since the 1989 post-Tiananmen purge.

Word of this rapidly growing network of ‘re-education’ camps first started to spread with interviews of the relatives of detainees.4 Further research drew on information in public construction and service tenders which documented and detailed the sizes and security features of these re-education camps.5

Other documents such as public recruitment notices, government budget reports, government work reports and Chinese articles in local media and social media have helped to reveal details of how Chinese authorities are rapidly expanding this network of camps.

The cumulative effect of this onslaught of evidence, as well as condemnation from US lawmakers6 and the UN,7 has forced Chinese authorities to move from outright denial of the camps’ existence to a public relations offensive in which they present the camps as places for ‘free vocational training’8 rather than anything punitive.

This ASPI ICPC report contributes new research, while also bringing together much of the existing research into a single database. This work has included cross-referencing multiple points of evidence to corroborate claims that the listed facilities are punitive in nature and more akin to prison camps than what the CCP calls ‘transformation through education centres’.

The report matches the plethora of documentary evidence already uncovered with satellite imagery of this sprawling network of camps. The report takes a conservative approach in deciding what the likely use of each facility is. Each potential camp is assigned a red, orange or green tag representing our level of confidence based on the available open-source data.

The data

This report collects and collates a huge amount of data and it attempted to include as much of that as possible into a database. Some subsets of the database are new—for example, our data on the growth in the size of these 28 facilities. Others have been identified by other researchers, NGOs or media outlets. Where possible, data from these sources has been included in the database, with citations and hyperlinks to the original work.

Brief summaries of the collected data are presented and tabulated in this report; however, using the accompanying database, it is possible to explore all data points in more depth and draw individual conclusions. 

The database is by no means an exhaustive list and it will continue to develop and grow as additional datasets are added.9 It is hoped it will provide media outlets, researchers and governments with current and useful information, and become a resource to which they can potentially contribute.

Camps that have multiple points of strong evidence are deemed to be internment camps and were marked green using the traffic light system. These points of evidence include, for example, facilities that are described as ‘transformation through education’ facilities in official documents, that this research has geo-located from tender documents, or that contain physical features captured in satellite imagery such as barbed wire, reinforced walls and watchtowers. 

Orange tags on other camps denote a comparatively smaller amount of publicly available evidence necessary to conclude the ultimate use of the facilities. Red camps denote minimal or incomplete evidence. Because of that lack of evidence, they have not been included in the public database.

This is not meant to suggest that the scope and scale of the system is small. Agence France-Presse (AFP) estimates there are at least 181 such facilities in Xinjiang,10 while research by German-based academic Adrian Zenz suggests there may be as many as 1,200 facilities.11

Instead, this report and its underlying database aim to create a repository of existing research into the Xinjiang camps in order to save for posterity the information that China’s censors are rapidly deleting from the public record.

Figure 1: Heat map showing the distribution and size of the 28 camps across Xinjiang province. The larger the combined size of facilities in an area, the darker the shade on the map. Kashgar City and its surrounds feature the highest density of facility floor space and are therefore likely where the greatest numbers of re-education detainees are held.

Figure 2: The cumulative floor area in the analysed facilities. Following the second quarter of 2017, many already-constructed buildings were converted into re-education facilities (separated into camps tagged green and orange). 

Figure 3: The rate of quarterly additional construction. Spikes can be seen during the summer months (third quarters) of 2017 and 2018. Growth so far in 2018 (1.169 million square metres) has already outpaced growth in the entirety of 2017 (918,000 m2).

Case studies

The devil is in the detail: The Kashgar City Vocational Technical Education Training Center12

Coordinates: 39°27’9.59″N, 76°6’34.24″E

Last month, Global Times editor Hu Xijin visited what he referred to as a ‘vocational training center’ in Kashgar. He posted a two-minute video of the trip on his Twitter account.13

Hu visited Middle School No. 4 located to the east of Kashgar City. This school, as well as Middle Schools 5 and 6, were under construction across the first half of 2017. Over the summer break, ovals at Middle Schools 5 and 6 were turfed with grass. These schools were being built adjacent to two other schools—the Kashgar City High School and the Huka Experimental Middle School (沪喀实验中学).

But by July 2017, when construction was complete, every ‘school’ building in the southwest of the facility (previously Middle School No. 5) was surrounded by tall fencing that had been painted green and topped with razor wire. By August, much of School No. 6 was enclosed with similar fencing. Upon completion in around November 2017, School No. 4 was also highly securitised and a tender was released calling for bidders to oversee and install new equipment, including a new surveillance camera system.14

In March 2018, one of the previously turfed sports ovals was demolished and replaced by four large six-storey buildings, totalling roughly 50,000 m2 of floor space. Each was surrounded by six 10-by-18 m fenced yards for detainees.

Kashgar City High School and Huka Experimental Middle School, only 50 m to the north of Kashgar Middle School No. 4, paint a dramatically different picture. Basketball courts are filled with students playing outside, and people can be seen in satellite imagery walking between buildings in the schools and on the large sports fields. 

The video posted by Hu Xijin of Middle School No. 4 on 24 October shows detainees dancing and playing table-tennis and basketball. However, this visit—and the footage shared on social media—may not reflect the regular daily experiences of the detainees.

Through satellite and imagery analysis—including imagery updated daily—we can determine that these courts are coloured mats that are recent additions to the camp. The mats were placed on a concrete-covered area that is normally bare and appears inaccessible to detainees.

Lifted edge of the basketball mat suggests that these courts are likely not permanent.

Across 25 satellite images between August 2017 and August 2018, which show the facility since its construction, not a single image featured these outdoor courts. But these coloured mats do appear in satellite imagery available from 10 October. Global Times editor Hu Xijin posted about his visit to these facilities on Twitter and Weibo on 24 October.15

The location filmed by Hu Xijin in Kashgar City Vocational Technical Education Training Center. Features outlined in the panorama produced from Global Times reporting correspond to outlines in the same colour in the satellite imagery.

Checking in with the Shule County Chengnan Training Center since the Economist’s May 2018 coverage16

Coordinates: 39°21’27.64″N, 76°3’2.39″E

On 31 May 2018 the Economist included satellite footage of the ‘Shule County Chengnan Training Center’ in a lengthy article it published on China’s ‘apartheid with Chinese characteristics’.17

We have tracked this camp’s enormous growth since the Economist article featured satellite imagery of the camp. Since March 2018—which was the date the satellite image was taken from—the facility has more than doubled in size.

Across the 2.5-year time period covered in this report,18 the facility has grown from 5 to 24 buildings or wings. Its total floor size has increased during that period from 12,200 m2 to 129,600 m2. This represents an increase in size of 1062.3%.

The camp is described in official documents as a ‘transformation through education’ facility, and a tender shows the involvement of the Shule County Justice Bureau.19 Through satellite and imagery analysis, the camp’s physical features—including barricaded facilities, watchtowers, and enclosures surrounded by barbed-wire fencing—can be clearly seen.

But the evidence base for this facility goes beyond satellite imagery, tenders and floor sizes. In addition, we have matched our satellite images to the first-hand accounts, street-view imagery and video footage published by religious freedom advocacy group Bitter Winter in September 2018.20

Bitter Winter’s evidence highlights several key features of the facility. Footage from newly constructed buildings shows the scale of the camp. The reporting detailed the structure of these facilities. Each floor consists of 28 rooms, and each room is monitored by two security cameras.

Footage acquired by Bitter Winter of the Chengnan Training Centre. Features outlined in the photos correspond to outlines in the same colour in the satellite imagery.

Methodology

This report provides a quantifiable picture of the spread and growth of China’s large network of camps throughout the Xinjiang region. These camps were located through various means, including via unique satellite signatures and physical features; official construction bidding tenders from the Chinese government; and media collected from official sources, local and international NGOs, academics and digital activists. Considerable information was drawn from the analysis of freely available or commercial satellite imagery. 

Satellite imagery of these camps shows highly securitised facilities with features such as significant fencing to heavily restrict the movement of individuals, consistent coverage by watchtowers, and strategic barricades with only small numbers of entry points. Often the perimeter around these camps is multi-layered and consists of large walls with tall razor-wire fencing on both the inside and outside. These features allowed us to pinpoint the location of camps mentioned in official construction tenders. 

Locating camps was aided significantly by engaging and sharing information with Shawn Zhang, a student at the University of British Columbia.21 In addition, official media and reporting by NGOs and activists were vital. These sources provided media from some facilities which allowed us to match the features shown—such as buildings and fencing—with the available satellite imagery.

The floor area of every facility was measured. 

The growth in floor area of these facilities was calculated for every quarter from the beginning of 2016 to September 2018. In most cases, this process involved measuring the roof area of every building using Google Earth imagery and other commercial satellite imagery collected by Digital Globe. Floor area was then calculated by multiplying roof area by the number of storeys in each building. The number of storeys was estimated from satellite imagery by either counting the externally visible windows when the building’s facade was shown or, when the facade was not prominently featured, by analysing the length of the shadows cast by the building. Where footage of these buildings from the ground existed, this was used as the primary source for the number of storeys. 

Some facilities contained additional buildings that were constructed after the most recently available Digital Globe imagery. For these cases, the floor area was calculated from lower resolution (3 m pixels as opposed to 30–50 cm pixels) imagery provided by Planet Labs.

No attempt was made in this analysis to differentiate between buildings used for different purposes, and the total area of each facility includes teaching buildings, administrative buildings and dormitories that house detainees. 

In addition, no attempt was made to determine the date of a facility’s first use as a re-education facility. For facilities such as schools or government-built residential housing that have been converted to re-education centres, our measurements represent the total building area within the current facility’s boundaries. 

These measurements were translated into chronological growth by cross-referencing building measurements with monthly satellite imagery accessed through Planet Labs’ Explorer portal to determine the period of time over which each building was constructed or completed. Some buildings that were too small to register in Planet Lab’s lower resolution imagery, such as single-storey utility buildings or sheds, were not included in this analysis. This data can be found in the database accompanying this report.

Facilities were then matched to publicly available construction tenders released by local governments using Chinese-language web-searching and links collected by other researchers (chiefly, Adrian Zenz, a China security expert at Germany’s European School of Culture and Theology). Saving this information often involved a race against time to gather the data before the documents were removed by those censoring China’s cyberspace. Every important document discovered and included in our database was permanently archived online.

Finally, the report drew on media reporting in local, national and international outlets. This media collection—including photographs, videos and geographical data—was used to further confirm key details such as the location, use or purpose, and physical features of each facility.

Conclusion

The speed with which China has built its sprawling network of indoctrination centres in Xinjiang is reminiscent of Beijing’s efforts in the South China Sea. Similar to the pace with which it has created new ‘islands’ where none existed before, the Chinese state has changed the facts on the ground in Xinjiang so dramatically that it has allowed little time for other countries to meaningfully react.

This report clearly shows the speed with which this build-out of internment camps is taking place. Moreover, the structures being built appear intended for permanent use. Chillingly, stories of detainees being released from these camps are few and far between.

Without any concerted international pressure, it seems likely the Chinese state will continue to perpetrate these human rights violations on a massive scale with impunity.
 

Acknowledgments

ASPI ICPC would like to thank Dr Samantha Hoffman and Alex Joske for their contributions to this research.

This project would not have been possible without the crucial ongoing work of Shawn Zhang, Adrian Zenz, journalists and civil society groups.


Important disclaimer

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© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2018

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  1. The centre featured on state broadcaster CCTV last week is one of at least 181 such facilities in Xinjiang, according to data collected by AFP, online. ↩︎
  2. tandfonline.com ↩︎
  3. Listed as Camp 5 in the ICPC public database, online. ↩︎
  4. hrw.org ↩︎
  5. jamestown.org ↩︎
  6. cecc.gov ↩︎
  7. theguardian.com ↩︎
  8. globaltimes.cn ↩︎
  9. If you would like to highlight new or missing information that you think should be added to the database, please contact icpc@aspi.org.au ↩︎
  10. hongkongfp.com ↩︎
  11. washingtonpost.com ↩︎
  12. Camp 15 in the ICPC public database. ↩︎
  13. twitter.com ↩︎
  14. jzbnet.com ↩︎
  15. twitter.com ↩︎
  16. Camp 3 in the ICPC public database. ↩︎
  17. economist.com ↩︎
  18. January 2016 to September 2018. ↩︎
  19. archive.org ↩︎
  20. bitterwinter.org ↩︎
  21. Shawn Zhang’s Medium blog can be found here: medium.com ↩︎

Tag Archive for: Xinjiang

Editors’ picks for 2024: ‘Australia’s climate ambitions have a modern slavery problem: examining the origins of our big batteries’

Originally published on 6 September 2024. Republication of this report today follows news on 6 January 2025 that the US Defense Department had added CATL to its list of companies that work with the Chinese military.

Several big battery projects in Australia vital for storing renewable energy to meet the nation’s climate goals are highly likely to be using materials sourced through the forced labour of Uyghur and other Turkic ethnic groups in China, ASPI research has found.

ASPI has examined the supply chains for big battery projects across various Australian states and found that, even when the batteries are sourced from US-based companies, critical components are still obtained from Chinese suppliers. These suppliers carry well-documented risks of involvement in human rights abuses.

Australia needs big batteries because its renewable energy plans require storage for intermittent sources such as wind, solar and hydro. That’s why state and territory governments are pouring billions of dollars into battery energy storage systems (BESS), also known as big batteries.

However, most of the global battery supply is controlled by companies based in the People’s Republic of China and is dependent on raw materials mined and processed in Xinjiang Uyghur autonomous region (XUAR).  Two of the largest companies that supply batteries and lithium cells for batteries—Contemporary Amperex Technology Co. Ltd. (CATL) and EVE—are used in Australian projects in spite of having been reported to be implicated in grave human rights violations, notably forced labour of Uyghur and other Turkic ethnic groups in the manufacturing and processing of raw materials. In a damning 2022 report, the United Nations stated that such violations might constitute crimes against humanity.

Our findings indicate that a legislative or policy directive is required to ensure that the default for Australian companies and governments is to source batteries that are guaranteed not to involve forced labour. Only then can Australia reach its climate goals without that success coming at the expense of human rights.

This directive should compel Australian governments to act as model contractors and incentivise and require private sector partners to undertake appropriate due diligence. It would mean mandating that project owners and operators know the origins, sources and supply chains of the batteries and their materials and are able to confirm they do not carry the risk of human rights abuses. When dealing with countries known to engage in modern slavery, such as China, it cannot be sufficient to say there is no evidence of forced labour. Rather, the supply chain must be known to be free of these risks.

If this work does not provide complete confidence, then the battery suppliers should not be used.

Understanding Chinese battery supply chains is indeed notoriously difficult. Faced with scrutiny from foreign governments and non-government researchers, Chinese companies often obscure their supply chains through intricate webs of suppliers and corporate affiliations, creating significant challenges for consumers and regulators trying to trace the origins of materials and labour. But difficult doesn’t mean impossible.

In June 2022, The New York Times uncovered that Xinjiang Nonferrous Metal Industry (Group), a Chinese state-owned enterprise, was directly exploiting forced Uyghur labour in the mining sector under the guise of a surplus labour transfer program. And in September 2023, the Washington Post detailed concerns about forced labour within the supply chains of several electric vehicle companies, including Tesla, Ford and Volkswagen.

One of the supply chains examined by the Washington Post involved CATL (宁德时代新能源科技股份有限公司), the world’s largest EV battery maker, which has contracts with seven major global automakers.

CATL attracted the scrutiny of US lawmakers in February 2023 after it struck a deal with automaker Ford. The scrutiny prompted the battery company to ostensibly divest its ownership stake in Xinjiang Zhicun Lithium (新疆志存锂业有限公司), a company reported to be connected to forced labour practices in Xinjiang. Zhicun produces lithium carbonate, which is central to the manufacture of lithium-ion batteries, from its facilities in Xinjiang.

However, while CATL officially divested from Zhicun, it continued to exercise significant control or guidance over the company’s operations through a series of holding companies and by the appointment of Guan Chaoyu as a manager of Zhicun’s new shareholder company, Chendao Capital. Guan also holds positions in several companies where CATL has invested, according to two US House of Representatives’ Select Committees.

ASPI’s research now reveals that despite the official divestment, CATL and Zhicun also continue to collaborate through a joint subsidiary, Wanzai Shidai Zhicun New Energy Materials Co., Ltd. (万载时代志存新能源材料有限公司), established in July 2022 with a registered capital of 1 billion yuan (A$211 million). This company is jointly held by Yichun Shidai New Energy Resources Co., Ltd., which is fully owned by CATL, and Zhicun Lithium Industry, with shareholding ratios of 80 percent and 20 percent, respectively.

In August 2023, a group of Republican lawmakers called on the US Department of Homeland Security to add CATL and associated companies to the Uyghur Forced Labor Prevention Act Entity List, citing their connections to coercive labour transfer programs in Xinjiang that were first outlined in a December 2022 report by Laura T. Murphy and others at Sheffield Hallam University. In June, lawmakers accused CATL and another Chinese firm Gotion of ‘state-sponsored slave labour’ and called for them to be added to a US import ban list.

While the spotlight on companies like CATL and their potential reliance on modern slavery has focused on the electric vehicle industry and the involvement of companies like Ford, Tesla and BYD, the overlap of supply chains means the same human rights risks extend to large-scale battery energy storage systems, such as those being constructed across Australia.

Despite what is publicly known, Australian governments and companies in almost all states are readily engaging with CATL, EVE and companies that use their products.

The responsibility for the projects and the selection of providers is complex.

At Collie, in Western Australia, two major battery projects are being built.

One is being built by French company NEOEN using Tesla Megapack batteries. The project is split into stage 1 and stage 2—with the contracts for both awarded by the Australian Energy Market Operator (AEMO), which is jointly operated by the Commonwealth, state and territory governments, and industry.

The second project is being developed by energy company Synergy, which is wholly owned by the WA government. In September 2023, the WA government announced it had awarded contracts exceeding $1 billion to CATL directly for the Synergy projects at Collie and another site, Kwinana. Both stages one and two of the Kwinana project use CATL batteries.

Meanwhile, in New South Wales, the most significant project is the 850-MWh Waratah Super Battery near Newcastle, supplied by Powin, a US-based company. Powin’s batteries are supplied with lithium cells made by CATL and EVE, another Chinese battery manufacturer. A quick Google search would have revealed that, earlier this year, Swedish research on human rights due diligence found that ‘through equity ownership, joint operations, and collaborations, EVE’s products are also linked to the oppression of ethnic Turkic groups in Xinjiang’.

In Queensland, the government is building a 300MWh big battery through the publicly owned energy company Stanwell, in partnership with Tesla, near Rockhampton. These Tesla Megapack big batteries and EV batteries are made with lithium-ion cells that are made by CATL.

CATL batteries have also been used in other renewable energy projects in Victoria, such as the Phillip Island Battery Energy Storage System, established in 2022, and the IKEA power project in South Australia, established in 2020. NEOEN also operates the Victorian Big Battery, the largest BESS in Victoria.

This raises the question of what requirements governments are putting on major battery suppliers such as Tesla and Powin, and the project owners and operators. There is ample public documentation to show that projects in WA, SA, NSW, VIC and QLD are using battery packs with lithium cells produced by CATL and EVE.

Australia’s stance against human rights abuses and proclaimed global leadership in combating modern slavery should dictate that both governments and companies make it a condition of their contracts with suppliers—even US companies such as Tesla and Powin—that the battery packs provided to Australia are not sourced from any country that engages in these human rights violations. Yes, such goods made in North America and Europe may be more expensive, but that is in part because corporations from these regions have to abide by stricter labour laws and human rights protections.

ASPI sought responses from a wide range of Australian and international entities responsible for the projects, including state governments, energy companies and the Australian Energy Market Operator.

The Victorian Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action referred questions to NEOEN. The Clean Energy Finance Corporation, a federal government green bank that invests in clean energy and contributed $160 million in investment to the Victorian Big Battery, said it made risk-based assessments of the modern slavery risk associated with investments by conducting due diligence on relevant partners and supply chain participants. It said this included consideration of publicly available information such as academic and international reports including ASPI’s own research. It also queried suppliers about their modern slavery risk management practices.

NSW EnergyCo, the statutory authority responsible for the state’s renewable energy project planning, provided a background statement pointing to the Renewable Energy Sector Board plan that states project proponents are required to provide evidence that they have registered a modern slavery statement with the Australian Border Force and that their registered modern slavery statement is compliant with the Commonwealth Modern Slavery Act. (2018) It referred questions about batteries’ manufacturing to Powin.

The WA Department of Energy, Mines, Industry, Regulation and Safety referred questions to public company Synergy, which did not respond by the deadline, and to NEOEN.

The Queensland Department of Energy and Climate referred questions to public company Stanwell, which pointed us to its modern slavery statement. The most recent statement, covering 2022-23, said that of their ‘tier two’ suppliers—that is, those that are one step removed from directly supplying Stanwell—70 percent had suppliers in countries considered high risk for slavery, but none of the key suppliers had self-reported any problems. However, Stanwell did not respond to our direct written questions about Tesla and CATL.

NEOEN declined to comment. Tesla and Powin did not respond to written questions.

AEMO said it could not comment on specific projects and referred questions to project owners for queries on investment and materials.

CATL provided a written statement saying that it has never bought any products from Xinjiang Zhicun. It said it had never owned any interest nor exercised control in its operations. It further said that based on its ‘investigation and fact-checking, Xinjiang Zhicun has never engaged in any forced labor activities’. It said it worked with Jiangxi Jinhui, a subsidiary of Xinjiang Zhicun’s parent company Jiangxi Zhicun, to process lepidolite, which is a lithium-bearing mineral, in Jiangxi Province. CATL’s emphatic response contradicts the substantial media reporting, academic research and investigations done by members of the US Congress, making it highly doubtful that Australian governments and companies should derive any confidence from it as a guide to the risks of these supply chains.

This is a known problem with a known solution. It requires Australian governments and their contracted suppliers to do adequate due diligence. When battery supply chains involve Chinese suppliers, there is a high risk of exposure to forced labour that is deliberately hidden through shell companies and obscured local ownership and shareholder arrangements. This necessitates a different approach to due diligence: not  a ‘tick-box’ approach to compliance but one that puts a burden of proof on suppliers and procurers to assure supply chains are verifiably free from modern slavery. If that can’t be done, these products should not be permitted in Australia.

With China’s dominance of the battery supply chain, sourcing from other countries is difficult, though not impossible—at least not yet. Australia could introduce a procurement requirement that companies and governments building and operating big battery projects stipulate in contracts that their suppliers source all components through processes and from regions that are free from forced labour risks.

The Australian government and its partners—in particular the US, Japan and Korea, all of whom have some capacity in this area—should collaborate to reduce the near-monopoly level of Chinese control (which begins at the scientific research stage). This would be the only way the Australian government could achieve its stated objectives to ‘diversify global battery supply chains’ and ‘to ensure Australia builds sovereign capabilities’, while also ‘taking a global leadership role in combating modern slavery’.

In addition, given the known threat of economic coercion from Beijing, Australia should consider its reliance on Chinese battery suppliers as a strategic vulnerability, against our national interest. The nation’s climate goals necessitate robust energy storage solutions, but they cannot come at the expense of human rights. The documented use of forced Uyghur labour in Chinese battery supply chains, potentially constituting crimes against humanity, underscores the urgency for Australian companies and policymakers to prioritise trusted, reliable and secure sourcing. By prioritising alternatives to Chinese batteries, Australia can lead not only in renewable energy innovation but also in upholding global standards of human dignity and justice.

The company with Aussie roots that’s helping build China’s surveillance state

The Chinese government’s surveillance state in Xinjiang, where an estimated 1.5 million Uyghurs are being detained in ‘re-education camps’, has created a booming business for high-tech surveillance companies. Koala AI Technology is one of the many Chinese artificial intelligence start-ups riding a wave of Chinese government demand for surveillance technology. But unlike its competitors, Koala AI may have benefited from connections with Australian universities and Australian government funding. The company is led by scientists who worked and studied in Australia before relocating to China through Chinese government talent-recruitment schemes.

In 2011, Heng Tao Shen became one of the University of Queensland’s youngest-ever professors at age 34. Three years later he was recruited through the Chinese government’s Thousand Talents Plan to work at the University of Electronic Science and Technology of China (UESTC), where he became head of its School of Computer Science and Engineering and was given a laboratory and research team to lead. He founded Koala AI a year later, in 2015. His LinkedIn page and personal page on the UQ website say that he only left for UESTC in 2017, but Koala AI’s own reporting indicates that he was already working there in 2014.

According to Shen, ‘a shortage of leading talents in China’s artificial intelligence industry is becoming a stifling force on development’. In 2016, a senior Chinese government official estimated that the country had an AI talent shortage of over 5 million people.

Shen turned back to Australia to address this need, hiring colleagues and students from Australia while juggling his professorships at UESTC and UQ, where he still holds an honorary professorship. Most of Koala AI’s executives also worked or studied at Australian universities, sometimes under Shen or his colleagues, before joining the company with financial support from Chinese government talent-recruitment schemes. Shen continues to collaborate extensively with Australian scientists on technologies directly related to the AI security systems offered by his company.

Members of Koala AI’s research team reportedly include Thousand Talents Plan scholars currently working at the University of New South Wales and UQ, as well as a leading scientists from the University of Melbourne and the National University of Singapore. The Thousand Talents Plan sometimes allows participants to spend most of their time at their overseas ‘base’, provided they also work in China for a few months each year.

Koala AI also draws on research from the Center for Future Media at UESTC, which functions as the company’s R&D wing. Both run by Shen, they work ‘hand in hand’ on AI research, and Chinese media has reported that ‘all effective research outputs from the Center for Future Media are plugged into the R&D of Koala AI products, assisting the development of the AI industry’. The centre has hosted visiting professors from the University of Adelaide and the University of Queensland.

Koala AI claims to be worth ¥1 billion (A$200 million) and aims to become western China’s first AI unicorn—a company worth over US$1 billion—by 2020.

At the same time, the Chinese Communist Party has greatly expanded its oppression of religious and ethnic minorities across the country and in Xinjiang in particular. According to one of the leading experts on Xinjiang, Adrian Zenz, spending on security-related construction there tripled in 2017. ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre found that the size of concentration camps in Xinjiang has grown by more than 400% since 2016. High-tech surveillance systems enable repression and control of China’s population by the government’s powerful internal security and public security ministries and agencies.

As AI becomes increasingly sophisticated, oppression in Xinjiang now relies on algorithms and apps as much as it does on batons and boots. Leading companies such as Huawei, Hikvision and iFlytek all supply surveillance and public security technology to the region, where their products are likely facilitating human rights abuses.

Koala AI’s co-founder, Adelaide University graduate Shen Fumin, believes the future of security lies in AI. ‘Using AI to define “new security” is the future we foresee, and it’s also our mission’, he told a Chinese media outlet. At a conference in Xinjiang, CEO Heng Tao Shen demonstrated a surveillance system that the company supplies to the Altay region at Xinjiang’s northwestern edge. The system helps the Chinese government manage its border with Kazakhstan, through which many Uyghurs and Kazakhs seek to flee the region. It can uncover, categorise and recognise targets, alerting police to ‘suspicious individuals and cars’.

Products like these are driving the rapid expansion of Koala AI, which also runs a joint laboratory with China’s Ministry of Public Security. Co-founder Shen Fumin said in 2019: ‘The company is developing so quickly. The government’s assistance and the billion-dollar market for intelligent security means that we can’t rest for even a moment.’

Koala AI describes its surveillance system as an example of ‘self-dependent development’—a priority for China as it tries to end its reliance on technology from abroad—but Shen Heng Tao’s past research was supported by as much as $2.6 million in funding from the Australian Research Council. Up to $1.6 million of that funding covered projects Shen worked on after he established Koala AI and set up a laboratory at a Chinese university. Research he carried out with ARC funding focused on surveillance-related topics such as event recognition in videos. The funding agreement for one of the ARC schemes, a Future Fellowship, prohibits recipients from holding other fellowships that are remunerated or might impair their duties to the ARC. Recipients of ARC funding are also required to avoid and report any conflicts of interest.

Visuals from a demonstration of Koala AI’s surveillance system, showing part of China’s border with Kazakhstan.

In the United States, the Thousand Talents Plan has attracted scrutiny for its links to economic espionage, but not yet for its human rights implications. The scheme is a flagship of the Chinese government’s technology-transfer efforts, which rely heavily on reversing China’s brain drain by encouraging overseas scientists to bring their expertise to China. Since its establishment in 2008, it has recruited over 7,000 leading scientists and entrepreneurs from abroad.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s growing scrutiny of the program has sent it underground. In September 2018, the Chinese government circulated a notice instructing official outlets to censor references to it, and thousands of web pages have since been taken offline. Organisations recruiting scientists for the Thousand Talents Plan have been instructed to do so covertly by inviting potential participants to China using the guise of academic conferences and by not communicating with them through email. At least five participants in Chinese government talent-recruitment schemes have been charged with crimes including economic espionage and fraud. In addition, dozens of US and Australian employees of the government or universities are believed to have joined Chinese government talent-recruitment programs while failing to declare their external employment.

However, the human rights implications of these applications of AI research and technology transfer in China are just as worrying. And, as the case of Koala AI shows, Western universities and even government funding may be used to help carry out research as well as train, fund and recruit talent for AI-enabled state surveillance.

The enormity of the abuses the Chinese government is committing in Xinjiang means that the Australian government, universities and scientists must do more to scrutinise end users of their research. Meeting basic ethical standards would only affect a tiny share of research collaboration between Australia and China. But, currently, our universities do not appear to have sufficient internal mechanisms to enforce and ensure compliance with their policies on conflicts of interest and external employment, to understand who their employees are collaborating with, or to identify participants in foreign talent-recruitment programs. Without change on this front, universities could be unable to meet the guidelines on research collaboration they are asking for from the government.

Better aligning Australia’s engagement with China with our interests and values will often be difficult. But there are clear red lines, and aiding technology-enhanced human rights abuses is surely one of them.