HOTAN, China, 3 November 2006 - Mullah Masude, 63, removes his shoes and gingerly navigates an expanse of carpeting in the Jaman Mosque’s main worship area before climbing a set of rickety steps to the roof.
Powered by a good set of lungs and lots of practice, the cleric belts out the afternoon call to prayer. Despite his best efforts, the chant is all but drowned out by the din of a single-stroke tractor engine and a passing bus.
Beijing bars mullahs from using loudspeakers, one of dozens of rules critics say are designed to mute Islam’s voice in China, particularly among the Uighur minority here in the far-western region of Xinjiang, which the government considers a separatist threat.
Signs and banners at mosque entrances in Hotan, Kashgar and other western cities make it clear who is boss.
“Completely abide by the Communist Party’s religious policy,” reads an oversized banner straddling the gate of Hotan’s Imam Asim tomb, half a mile over desert dunes from the nearest road. “Actively lead religion toward a just socialist society.”
More than 2,000 miles to the east, Beijing seems a world away, which partly explains officials’ deep-seated fear that the region’s more than 8 million Uighurs will unite to form an independent state.
Although most Uighurs are proud of their history, distinct language and centuries-old culture, they tend to see a Uighur homeland as a distant dream, given Beijing’s tight grip and economic clout.
“I’m not in favor of it, nor do I think it’s possible,” said Elham Adl, 22, a Uighur tour guide in Dushanzi, a town in northern Xinjiang. “I don’t want to see Xinjiang become a second Iraq. And if Xinjiang became independent, we’d lose access to China’s big market.”
But Beijing isn’t taking any chances, critics say, and it continues to intimidate the clergy, weaken Uighur culture through assimilation policies and otherwise stifle dissent. The strategy has been successful, largely putting an end to the bombings, protests and unrest of the 1990s, although some say China has only driven resentment underground.
“They put out the fire,” said Dru C. Gladney, an anthropologist and president of The Pacific Basin Institute at Pomona College in Claremont, Calif. “But the embers are smoldering. And unless they address hearts and minds, it will flare again.” The government’s iron grip underscores Xinjiang’s strategic importance. The region has huge reserves of oil, gas, gold and uranium. It is home to the nation’s Lop Nor nuclear testing facility.
With 17 percent of Chinese territory but just 1.5 percent of its people, Xinjiang is an important release valve for population pressures. It’s a buffer against rival Russia. Any loosening would set a precedent for pro-independence movements in Taiwan and Tibet. In the meantime, Beijing is working to soften local hearts and minds to its position, albeit in a sometimes heavy-handed manner.
