海角大神

Three years ago in northwest China, in a rancid hotel room that reeked of cigarettes and booze, plainclothes police pressed Ablatt Mahsut for answers. He stared at the stained gray carpet as they made him empty his pockets.聽

The interrogation covered three decades of his life. Again and again, police asked if he personally knew Uyghur activists in the United States. Again and again, Mr. Mahsut said he didn鈥檛. Some 10 hours in, they accused the American father of five of helping a few hundred Uyghurs join the Islamic State group.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 just an outright lie,鈥� he says.聽

The scene has looped in his mind ever since. Only in recent months has he felt compelled to share his story publicly.

Mr. Mahsut聽became a U.S. citizen 10 years ago. He lives a quiet life in Franklin, Massachusetts, shuttling between his kids鈥� soccer games. But in June 2017, a month before his trip to Korla in China鈥檚 Xinjiang region, he learned troubling news about his niece there. Mihrigul Abla, a high school teacher, had been arrested for the second time and sent to prison.

A court document reviewed by the Monitor says Ms. Abla possessed 鈥渕aterials propagating terrorism or extremism.鈥� Mr. Mahsut was told that she simply had a digital copy of the Quran.聽

For the next few weeks, he struggled to sleep, scanning news out of the region past midnight. Family in Xinjiang stopped responding to texts. Desperate for answers, he flew to China that summer to find his niece. But the interrogation upended his plans. He fled without the answers he sought.

Mr. Mahsut聽and his family are Uyghurs, a mostly Muslim ethnic group with its own Turkic language and culture. China has detained an estimated 1 million or more Uyghurs, Kazakhs, and other ethnic minorities across a vast detention system in its Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region.聽

Mr. Mahsut聽says Ms. Abla is still incarcerated. He was told she was briefly taken to a hospital for surgery, and worries that it was to remove her uterus against her will, based on similar allegations from the region鈥檚 survivors. Several other relatives in Xinjiang have disappeared.聽

鈥淚鈥檝e stayed silent thinking that my silence would be able to protect the family,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hat hasn鈥檛 happened.鈥�

After three years of agonizing over going public, Mr. Mahsut鈥檚 desperation has trumped his fear. He joins a growing group of Uyghurs in the diaspora finding the courage to speak up, hoping their chorus of voices can save family abroad.

鈥淎ll we have is our hope,鈥� says Rushan Abbas, an Uyghur activist in Virginia. 鈥淚f we lose our hope, we have nothing.鈥�

February 2019

A few days after New Year鈥檚 in 2019,聽Mr. Mahsut takes the first step to share his story with the Monitor on a call. In February, he joins a journalist at a small corner table at a Starbucks near Boston. He will only speak off the record. The soft-spoken man also declines to be recorded. Fear has overtaken his life, he says.

Every day inches toward June 10 鈥� the date his niece鈥檚 sentence ends, according to a court document. Her uncle Qurbanjan had snapped a photo of the enforcement notice for his brothers in the U.S.聽Mr. Mahsut nervously deleted it from WeChat soon after. Two years later, he stumbled upon a digital miracle: iCloud saved the photo for him.

He finds it hard to focus on his job. Each media report on Uyghurs or Kazakhs who鈥檝e fled the region conjures his niece鈥檚 face. At least twice, he says, his cell phone glows with callers who present as Xinjiang officials. They dangle news of his family in exchange for serving as a spy.

鈥淚 never give any information,鈥� says Mr. Mahsut.

Human rights groups have documented allegations of China鈥檚 surveillance and intimidation of Uyghurs overseas 鈥撀爏uch as requests for personal information, offers to work as informants, and threats against speaking out. Since the U.S. has declined requests by the Chinese government to hand over Uyghurs, Beijing has also asked the American government directly for information on the diaspora, says Daniel Benjamin, former U.S. State Department ambassador-at-large and coordinator for counterterrorism.

鈥淢y response was always the same: Give me credible information of terrorist activity,鈥� and then we鈥檒l look into it, wrote Mr. Benjamin, a scholar at Dartmouth College, over email. Ultimately, he says, 鈥渘othing came my way.鈥�

Following 9/11, China leveraged the U.S.-led war on terror to rebrand so-called 鈥渟eparatists鈥� as 鈥渢errorists.鈥� The May 2014 launch of its 鈥渟trike hard鈥澛燾ampaign against Xinjiang鈥檚 ethnic minorities followed violent attacks on civilians that year, allegedly led by Uyghurs.

Western media began covering Xinjiang鈥檚 mass detentions in 2017. Beijing first denied the existence of prison-like 鈥渞eeducation鈥� camps, then said they helped rehabilitate 鈥渆xtremists.鈥澛燬urvivors have alleged political indoctrination and torture. An official database published as a leak in February suggests individuals could be detained for simply having a passport or 鈥渢oo many children.鈥澛�

A Chinese official said in December that all detainees held in 鈥渧ocational training鈥� centers have been released 鈥� an unverifiable claim. Many former detainees have reportedly landed in formal prison like Ms. Abla.

Researchers say the repression has extended beyond Xinjiang鈥檚 borders. More than 80,000 Uyghurs have been transferred to factories across the country, according to a report released in March. The Australian Strategic Policy Institute鈥檚 research links forced Uyghur labor to several global brands. In a joint statement, a coalition of concerned manufacturing groups urged the U.S. government to assess the issue.

China has touted the success of its crackdown in the western region. 鈥淴injiang hasn鈥檛 seen a single terrorist attack over the past three years,鈥� said China鈥檚 Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Hua Chunying in December. Human rights groups and several governments, including the U.S. State Department, have accused China of systematic human rights abuses in Xinjiang. Some scholars have described the repression as social reengineering or 鈥渃ultural genocide.鈥�

Increasingly desperate, many Uyghurs in the diaspora feel there is little left to lose in speaking out. Around 1 million Uyghurs live outside China, the World Uyghur Congress estimates. Despite fear of reprisal against their families, the diaspora increasingly talks to the press and demands answers on social media.

Outcomes are mixed. China has聽released some detainees whose families have spoken out abroad while detaining others 鈥撀爄ncluding relatives of U.S.-based Radio Free Asia reporters.

Human Rights Watch鈥檚 China Director Sophie Richardson says potential reprisal by the Chinese government forces Uyghurs in the U.S. to weigh 鈥渨hether to exercise their right to freedom of expression here to talk about horrific human rights violations.鈥� Ms. Richardson and other China observers say the launch of the #MeTooUyghur campaign in February 2019 helped mobilize a wave of Uyghurs to go public.

Halmurat Harri Uyghur, a doctor in Finland behind the hashtag, drew inspiration from a proof-of-life video of an imprisoned Uyghur musician that China released in response to pressure from Turkey. Dr. Uyghur was also inspired by the #MeToo movement.

鈥淲e are as a whole nation kind of being raped by this communist tyranny,鈥� he says on a call from Helsinki. 鈥淲e cannot silence ourselves by our own fear while we are living in free countries.鈥�

Ms. Abbas, the Uyghur activist in Virginia,聽spoke about the treatment of Xinjiang鈥檚 ethnic minorities at a Washington think tank in September 2018. Six days later, her sister and aunt in Xinjiang disappeared. Ms. Abbas considers this retribution for her public remarks. Her aunt was released from an internment camp after five or six months, but she still has not heard from her sister Gulshan.

鈥淚鈥檓 doubling and tripling my efforts,鈥� says Ms. Abbas, executive director of Campaign for Uyghurs.

Another response by the Chinese government has been to denounce the exile community through propaganda. State-aligned media have presented Uyghurs denouncing outspoken relatives abroad, like Zumrat Dawut from the region鈥檚 capital Urumqi. Ms. Dawut survived 62 days in an internment camp and an unwanted sterilization, The Washington Post reported.

Yet a November Global Times video shows two of Ms. Dawut鈥檚 relatives in Xinjiang denying her detention, and claiming that the surgery removed a growth on her uterus. Stories like hers amplify Mr. Mahsut鈥檚 concerns about his niece鈥檚 surgery.

Nearly every Uyghur family聽Mr. Mahsut knows in the U.S., he says, has at least one disappeared relative. In the car or at his desk, Xinjiang is constantly on his mind.

鈥淭he mental pressure is so high,鈥� he told the Monitor about a year ago.

His wife, Ziyoda, an Uzbek-American interpreter who did not want her last name used, watches聽Mr. Mahsut guard his emotions around their kids. They鈥檙e spared most of the news.

鈥淚t affects him,鈥� Ziyoda says. 鈥淗e鈥檚 in a country that has power, but he鈥檚 powerless.鈥�

Brief reprieve arrives with the spring. In March 2019, Mr. Mahsut helps organize a Nowruz event in Medway, Massachusetts. Millions of individuals worldwide gather with family to mark the vernal equinox, which Uyghurs consider their New Year. Some 60 Uyghurs join the party in a rented room circled by balloons.

鈥淭his is the first time I鈥檓 a little bit happy in two years,鈥� says a guest.

An Uyghur caterer treats the crowd to a traditional Nowruz stew.聽Mr. Mahsut dances the sama, gushing with joy. Despite inviting this journalist to cover the party, he still asks for anonymity.

He texts his family Happy Nowruz. No one writes back.

July 2017

Mr. Mahsut聽says Shanghai airport authorities detained him when he arrived in China on July 24, 2017. They confiscated his passport and appeared to conduct an extensive background check without explanation. Mr. Mahsut聽rerouted his travel the next day to evade authorities. He waited out two nights in an American hotel, hoping it would lend some safety.

Xinjiang defied his childhood memories. Security checkpoints paused pedestrians every few blocks. Soldiers and police rounded up Uyghur men on the street and led them into trucks. When聽Mr. Mahsut finally arrived in Korla at his parents鈥� front door, police were there to greet him 鈥� the first of multiple visits.

Besides trying to track his niece and other relatives,聽Mr. Mahsut had come to remove his name from the hukou system, or household registry, since he was now a U.S. citizen. He addressed this in Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang, within a week of his arrival. His interrogation happened the day he returned to Korla. Mr. Mahsut聽says he demanded to call a lawyer or the U.S. Embassy, but was told the American government already knew of his 鈥渃rime.鈥�

Mr. Mahsut聽denied he personally knew prominent Uyghur activists in the U.S. He also denied the ISIS accusation leveled against him by police, who said they had 鈥渃redible evidence鈥� based on a U.S.-China intelligence sharing agreement.

Multiple regional and security experts told the Monitor that the allegation seems implausible. On the credibility of alleged intelligence sharing, such details are 鈥渋nappropriate for public disclosure,鈥� an Office of the Director of National Intelligence spokeswoman said in an email.

Around midnight at the hotel in Korla,聽Mr. Mahsut negotiated his exit by saying he鈥檇 return the next day. They handed back his belongings. When he stepped out onto the street, he says, he threw himself to the ground to avoid a speeding car he believes was meant to kill him. Scared for his life, he cut his trip short and slipped out of Korla. He didn鈥檛 speak Mandarin, he claimed at the airport. He flashed his American passport.

Safely back in Massachusetts,聽Mr. Mahsut learned authorities took away 14 of his relatives after his departure. Some spent months in 鈥渞eeducation.鈥� Public security bureau police also came knocking for him, unaware he had slipped away.聽

It鈥檚 not uncommon for authorities to question individuals returning to China, even if they鈥檝e become a citizen of another country, experts say. 鈥淚t has happened many times that [ethnic minorities鈥橾 new citizenship is not recognized,鈥� says anthropologist Darren Byler, a Xinjiang scholar and postdoctoral researcher at University of Colorado, Boulder.

Mr. Mahsut鈥檚 brother Abliz, who lives in the Midwest and is also an American citizen, says he was questioned three times 鈥� once in a Korla hotel 鈥撀爋n a trip back to Xinjiang in 2015. Public security bureau police accused him of helping Uyghurs travel to Syria, which he denies.

鈥淚 was a little bit worried, but not too worried, because I didn鈥檛 do anything wrong,鈥� says Abliz Mahsut. 鈥淚 believed myself.鈥�

June 2019

June 10 becomes June 11.

No word arrives of his niece鈥檚 release.

Ablatt Mahsut聽frantically calls the municipal police, the district police, the courts. She didn鈥檛 perform well, he hears again and again. 鈥淪he was innocent!鈥� he repeats, demanding more information. Otherwise, he says on a Chinese official鈥檚 voicemail, he will see that this makes news. 聽

He learns that Ms. Abla spent four days at a hospital in December 鈥� six months after her sentence should have ended 鈥� for surgery related to her uterus. She immediately returned to prison.聽

Dr. Byler, who has interviewed several former camp detainees, says uterine and other illnesses are not uncommon among survivors of Xinjiang鈥檚 detention system. But without better access to information from the region, the precise origins of health problems are difficult to determine.

Mr. Mahsut聽is outraged at the news. To both him and Abliz Mahsut, their niece鈥檚 surgery draws parallels to reports by other Uyghur women, like Ms. Dawut. For months the brothers debate the merits of going public, not wanting to endanger any relatives who remained free.

Another blow comes on Oct. 30 with the death of their brother Qurbanjan Mahsut. Though he never spent time in a camp, his family says the Xinjiang University librarian was ordered by the government to archive information on rural Uyghurs in the remote Kargilik county. He worked at least 16-hour days. While his health appeared to deteriorate, Qurbanjan Mahsut told Ablatt Mahsut that he was refused medical help until his final days; the condition for seeing a doctor was not being able to walk.

Survivor鈥檚 guilt cuts deep. Qurbanjan Mahsut had been studying for the GRE exam for graduate school, says Ablatt Mahsut, hopeful for an American Ph.D. in anthropology. When he visited the U.S. in 2016, Ablatt and Abliz Mahsut urged their brother to return home to support his family, despite his desire to stay.聽

His death sparked anger in Ablatt Mahsut. He says he applied for a Chinese visa to attend his brother鈥檚 burial in November, against the wishes of his family.聽

鈥淚 was afraid for his life,鈥� says Ziyoda. 鈥淎m I going to see you again if you leave?鈥�

Mr. Mahsut was unable to secure the visa in time. He held a memorial in absentia at a Massachusetts mosque instead.

Abliz Mahsut channels his depression into researching the region. His 7-year-old joins him in praying for Uyghurs worldwide three times a day.

鈥淚 work alone in my office. Many times I just cry,鈥� says Abliz Mahsut. 鈥淲here is the justice?鈥�

January 2020

A year has passed since Ablatt Mahsut first spoke with the Monitor. Sitting at the same Starbucks table in January, he is transformed.

No longer hesitant, he wants to go on the record, agrees to photos, and even asks about filming a video. He鈥檚 decided to risk raising his voice, hoping it brings his remaining relatives home.聽Mr. Mahsut types up his family鈥檚 story in January and mails it to the United Nations.聽

鈥淢y worst fear is that my niece won鈥檛 be able to leave alive,鈥� he says at the cafe. He fiddles with his car keys. Soon he鈥檒l drive his son to soccer.

A week earlier, his only relative left to contact via WeChat stopped responding. Now with zero connections to family in Xinjiang, what once seemed reckless now seems right.

鈥淚 should鈥檝e gone public a long time ago.鈥�