As an academician, I often grapple with the daily challenges of experiments not working as planned, the disappointment of papers being rejected, or, as in a recent case, receiving bad reviews. These are the mundane concerns that occasionally trigger anxiety and self-doubt, despite my track record of having published a dozen papers and securing prestigious research grants.
Yet, as an Uyghur, I face another set of worries that strike closer to home- the uncertain fate of my family and friends, with whom I haven’t been able to connect for the last five years. I ponder whether the traditional family home of my parents, bulldozed by the Chinese regime in 2017, was indeed rebuilt with modern brick houses as the regime promised or whether they are living in a makeshift shelter after their newly built house was destroyed. I worry about the well-being of my seven nieces and nephews, left wondering if they are with my sister and brother or if they were forcibly separated from their parents to be ‘re-educated’ in camps.
These worries hit me especially hard when I heard about the growing number of disappearances and imprisonments of Uyghur intellectuals — individuals whom the Chinese regime once applauded as ‘model’ citizens. The latest victim was Professor Rahile Dawut.
The news of Professor Rahila Dawut’s secret life sentence is profoundly unsettling. Although the forced disappearances and imprisonments of Uyghur intellectuals have been ongoing and common since 2015, professor Rahile Dawut’s sentence is particularly poignant. She was known for her impeccable reputation as a Uyghur folklore scientist and a gentle teacher, making it difficult to justify her imprisonment even under the Chinese penal system.
This news deeply affected me, not just because I am Uyghur, but also because I am a scientist myself. Most importantly, professor Rahile Dawut was one of the Uyghur scientists whose life stories ignited hope in my 12-year-old self, showing me that, as a Uyghur, I too could obtain a Ph.D. and become a scientist.
I grew up in a remote, isolated poor village where owning books, even textbooks, was a distant dream. I would borrow textbooks from other kids or share books. If lucky, I find older, secondhand textbooks from family friends, and neighbors. Back then, I didn’t have many aspirations except hoping to secure an apprenticeship at a local electronics store, where I could learn a trade and make a living after completing middle school.
However, many things changed during a visit to a city with my family when I was 12,13 years old. I stumbled upon a bookstore and lost myself in the world of books and words. Among them, one book stood out — ‘Uyghur Scientists Today.’ This book showcased the stories of 10 to 15 Uyghur scientists, including a medical doctor and entrepreneur professor Halmurat Upur, computer scientist and entrepreneur Prof. Alim Ahet, philosopher and literary critic Prof. Abduqadir Jalalidin, geophysicist Prof. Tashpolat Teyip, and of course, professor Rahile Dawut. Until then, I had never heard of any Uyghurs with a Ph.D. or being scientists. It was this book that inspired me and instilled hope in me that, as a Uyghur, I too could one day become a scientist.
Regrettably, professor Rahile Dawut was just one of the many Uyghur intellectuals featured in the book who have since disappeared or been imprisoned by the Chinese regime. Another was Professor Halmurat Upur, a scientist and medical doctor at Xinjiang Medical University who even served as its president before his abrupt disappearance and subsequent secret death sentence. I met Prof. Halmurat Upur in 2009 and was impressed by his hard-working attitude while also not losing compassion. Seeing an unkempt young guy in jeans and a t-shirt, he gifted me a comb and advised me to wear a suit for any job interview. I took the advice and nowadays at least look at a mirror before going to a job interview.
The list of disappeared or imprisoned Uyghur intellectuals is long. Among them is Pof. Abduqadir Jalalidin, is known for insightful cultural and social critic essays. In one of his essays, he boldly and wittingly argued that wearing a beard had nothing to do with being a radical Muslim, citing Karl Marx, the German philosopher whose ideas inspired the creation of socialist nations like China, as an example of someone who wore a big beard. His writings remind me of the philosopher Bertrand Russel. Another is computer scientist and entrepreneur Dr. Alim Ahet, the founder of a software company that once collaborated with Microsoft. Then there is Professor Tashpolat Tiyip, a geophysicist from Xinjiang University. These are just a few among hundreds of Uyghur intellectuals who have disappeared or been imprisoned since 2017.
One Uyghur scientist I knew personally and considered a close friend is Dr. Tursunjan Nurmamat. I met him through online platforms, and he arranged my initial accommodation and welcomed me in Laramie, Wyoming, USA, in 2010. At that time, he was pursuing a Ph.D. in molecular biology at the University of Wyoming. He later held postdoctoral positions at the University of Texas in San Antonio, the University of California in Irvine, and the King Abdullah University of Science and Technology. He was forced to return to China in 2017 because his family, including his wife and American-born daughter, who were prevented from leaving after a family visit to China. Back in China, he worked as a research scientist at Shanghai Tongji University. Sadly, in the spring of 2022, I learned that he, too, had disappeared, like many other Uyghur intellectuals.
Not being able to contact my family since 2018, I sometimes contemplate returning to see them. But the fear of becoming another ‘missing’ Uyghur scientist pops up, highlighting the disheartening and unjust reality I face. I guess I have to live with the guilt that my family is suffering, in part because of me, an Uyghur pursuing a career overseas. The last time I contacted my family was in 2018. During that call, Chinese police and officials were present with them, pressuring me to return to China, and promising dire consequences for my parents if I refused.
My last visit back home was a decade ago in 2013. During that trip, while browsing in a bookstore, I saw the same book that had once transformed my life, “Uyghur Scientists Today”. It was volume three of the book, implying the addition of several dozen more Uyghurs to the list of scientists and intellectuals. Considering the fact that they are disappearing, and previously widely available Uyghur books are banned or removed from shelves, I doubt that the book is accessible to many young Uyghurs today. It seems that the Chinese government is determined to erase Uyghur culture, eliminate Uyghur intellectuals, and deprive the younger generation of role models, all while propagating the racist and bigoted notion that the Uyghur people are backward, uneducated, and inferior, and need governance of superior Han rulers.
In the face of the mundane challenges I face as a scientist and the potential existential threat as a Uyghur, I am sharing my thoughts and feelings with the hope of highlighting the peril of Uyghurs face and how it affects our professional lives. I am grateful that at least I am alive, able to do what I love and share my thoughts relatively freely. But suffering is suffering, and no two sufferings are comparable. When one suffers, the best others can do is to listen and show compassion. That’s what I tell the Uyghur and the scientist in me.
Do you want to help?
There are a few things you can do.
- Read and share.
2. Call, write, and visit your senators, representatives, and local council members; raise the issue of Uygur human rights violations. There are a number of laws and regulations concerning this issue in almost every free world (the USA, UK, Australia, Canada, Sweden, Czech Republic, etc.).
3. Call, write, and visit your local stores that sell clothes; ask them if any of their product are made from cotton from China. East Turkestan, so-called Xinjiang, produces more than 80% of cotton in China. So, if any cotton or any product made from cotton is imported from China, it is very likely that it is the product of forced labor and made by enslaved Uyghurs.
