By Kent Ewing
August 28, 2009
Courtesy Of Asia Times Online
HONG KONG - Why is it that, as cocktail glasses clink and urbane voices clatter across the Western world, China's repressive policies in Tibet are generally regarded with outrage while the plight of Muslim Uyghurs in the restive Xinjiang region rarely rates a mention?
No one hung a "Free Xinjiang" banner from San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge ahead of last year's Summer Olympic Games, hosted by Beijing, while "Free Tibet" protesters turned the iconic landmark into a billboard for their cause. And now that the central government of China has put Xinjiang under lockdown in the wake of last month's riots in its capital, Urumqi, Western protests have been virtually all but non-existent.
The only Western country to raise a real fuss about Xinjiang - Australia - isn't even located in the West. But Canberra's row with Beijing, now subsiding as both sides realize how much they need each other, was over whether a biopic on exiled Uyghur leader Rebiya Kadeer should be shown at the Melbourne International Film Festival, held July 24 to August 9; it only tangentially concerned the crackdown in Xinjiang.
Indeed, Kadeer, the 63-year-old chairperson of the World Uyghur Congress, has become accustomed to such low-level publicity that, tongue in cheek, she thanked the Chinese government for the free advertising provided by its heavy-handed attempt to block her visit to Australia for the showing of the film, The 10 Conditions of Love. (See Xinjiang crisis creates ripples abroad, Asia Times Online, July 30.)
Speaking in Uyghur through a translator to Australia's National Press Club, she said, "I deeply appreciate the support of the Chinese government in raising my profile. I could not have spent millions of dollars in getting this sort of publicity, but thanks to the Chinese government for raising my profile and informing Australians of the plight of the Uyghurs."
It's true. After several Chinese filmmakers withdrew from the festival in protest over the Kadeer documentary and China's Foreign Ministry went into high dudgeon over Canberra's refusal to ban her visit, Kadeer was showered with attention and sympathy in Australia.
Meanwhile, the China Daily, the Chinese Communist Party's official English-language mouthpiece, accused "Sino-phobic politicians" in Australia of striking up an "anti-China chorus" over the Kadeer visit. Australia's ambassador to China, Geoff Raby, then returned home last week for "consultations", although Canberra denied any connection with the diplomatic wrangle over Kadeer.
With relations between the two countries already sour over Beijing's recent detention on charges of espionage of an Australian executive working for the multinational Rio Tinto mining and resources group, the Kadeer flap only exacerbated the rising ire.
Realizing that trade between China and Australia added up to US$53 billion last year, however, both sides cooled their rhetoric, took a step back and vowed to get along despite their differences. In fact, while Raby retreated to Canberra last week, the two nations added substantially to that trade, announcing a 20-year, $41 billion deal for China to buy natural gas from the Gorgon gas field off Australia's northwest coast. (See Australia approves gas megaproject
Ultimately, Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, a fluent Putonghua (Mandarin) speaker, offered this diplomatic bromide, "The China-Australia relationship is always full of challenges, and it always has been thus and it will be thus for a long time to come. We approach this relationship mindful of our interests in China, mindful of Chinese interests in Australia."
For anyone paying attention, this was a weeks-long diplomatic drama with telling implications, but it caused only minor ripples in the Western media.
Now imagine that the Dalai Lama, the long-exiled Tibetan spiritual leader and adopted darling of the West, had stood at the center of this controversy. While China's policies in Tibet and Xinjiang are remarkably similar, there is no doubt that the chorus of disapproval for Beijing would have resounded internationally, with French President Nicolas Sarkozy perhaps once again leading the rallying cry, if the biopic shown in Melbourne had featured the Dalai Lama.
Why the difference? Why would American talk-show hosts like Larry King bow, scrape and grovel for an interview with the Dalai Lama but not give Kadeer the time of day? The answers to these questions take us straight to the heart of Western, particularly American, prejudice and hypocrisy.
Xinjiang and Tibet are vast, contiguous western regions rich in natural resources that China needs to fuel its continuing economic boom. Xinjiang has substantial mineral and oil deposits, and Chinese geologists have discovered major new deposits of copper, iron, lead, zinc and other minerals in Tibet, which also has tremendous potential for tourism if only Tibetans would stop their demonstrations against Chinese rule.
Beijing has made a huge effort to modernize the two autonomous regions, pumping billions of yuan into new infrastructure, education and industry. It has also encouraged legions of Han Chinese to migrate to Urumqi and the Tibetan capital of Lhasa to lead the charge toward modernization.
While this tremendous push into modernity has substantially improved the standard of living in both regions, it has not won over the loyalty of the people, many of whom believe the central government is trying to "Sinicize" their culture.
For Tibetans, that culture is steeped in Buddhism and, for many, the Dalai Lama is the living, internationally recognized symbol of their faith and traditions.
The Western romance with the Dalai Lama goes back to the 1959 Tibetan uprising against Chinese rule that led to his flight to Dharamsala, India, where he established a government in exile. The US Central Intelligence Agency's (CIA's) alleged backing of that revolt, its assistance in the then 23-year-old spiritual leader's escape from the Chinese army and its subsequent support of his cause - all still points of debate in the West - are accepted facts life in China and much of the rest of Asia.
Tibetan Buddhism and the Dalai Lama were once seen as important pieces in the chess game of the Cold War. Even now, with the stress on cooperation rather than antagonism in US-Sino relations, that legacy continues. Moreover, the Dalai Lama's pleas for religious freedom and cultural integrity in Tibet continue to resonate among ordinary people in the West.
In 1989, he won the ultimate Western accolade, the Nobel Peace Prize, and his popularity - especially among Hollywood stars such as Richard Gere and Harrison Ford - continues.
The same cannot be said for Kadeer and the Uyghurs of Xinjiang. Although their complaints against the central government of China are strikingly similar to those of Tibetans, their different history and religion have elicited far less sympathy and none of the crazy passion evinced by pro-Tibet demonstrators who dogged the Olympic torch relay last year.
The Uyghurs are a Turkic people with a long and rich history in Eastern and Central Asia and a culture rooted in Islam. Instead of the CIA in their corner during the Cold War, it was the former Soviet Union.
Now, ironically, there are allegations of CIA support for Kadeer, who since 2005 has lived in the US, and of CIA sponsorship of unrest in Xinjiang. Those charges notwithstanding, the anti-Muslim, post-September 11, 2001, environment in America - buttressed by Cold War history - has elicited little sympathy for Kadeer and her cause in the US or anywhere else in the West.
China, which denounces the Uyghur leader as a "terrorist", has its own reasons, also rooted in history, for forcibly imposing unity and stability on these two troublesome regions.
At least Beijing has been consistent. As China's influence grows, the West is increasingly choosy about its darlings and causes.
Kent Ewing is a Hong Kong-based teacher and writer. He can be reached at kewing@hkis.edu.hk.
(Copyright 2009 Asia Times Online (Holdings) Ltd. All rights reserved.)
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