How China’s limited human rights have collapsed under Xi Jinping

I had my first taste of Chinese censorship in 2007. I was living in Shanghai and working at a lifestyle magazine. In the journalistic world the gig was about as uncontroversial as it gets – a calendar of spa treatments and interviews with restaurateurs. But there was a features section and – keen to work on something meatier – I pitched an article on the rise of obesity in line with the rise of US fast-food outlets. The editor gave me the thumbs-up and I spent the next month working on it. Only it never got printed. Because the magazine was published from within China, all material had to go through a censor and this censor was not happy. He told the editor that while the article might blame US chains for the problem, ultimate responsibility lay at the hands of the Chinese Communist Party. How will it reflect on them if they can’t control their nation’s waistlines?

Little did I know then that this uncommon experience, which felt like dealing with the world’s most pernickety censor, would be fairly typical by 2022. We have, after all, just seen children’s book publishers in Hong Kong sent to jail merely for publishing a series about a flock of sheep resisting a pack of wolves (the series could spread separatist ideas, apparently).

But this was the China of Hu Jintao. Everything felt freer then. Facebook was in its nascence and adopted with enthusiasm, foreign visas were easy to get, VPNs were rarely needed. There were taboo topics to be sure, “the Ts” for example – Tiananmen, Tibet and Taiwan. I read a copy of Wild Swans in a café, its front cover wrapped in a scarf, because the book was officially banned in China. Superficially, though, it felt open.

But superficiality is the enemy of nuance. Beneath the surface CCP China was always controlling, even under the more “benevolent” leadership of Hu. Shanghai was exhilarating – what I’d imagine New York must have felt like in the 1970s. All promise and enterprise. And yet injustice was everywhere: in the rickshaw drivers hauling goods in 30-degree heat next to those driving their air-conditioned Mercedes; the construction workers who slept in makeshift villages on the outskirts of the ever-expanding city. My friend wanted to send a parcel to someone in Xinjiang Province. She wrote the address in the Roman alphabet and at the post office was ordered to rewrite it in Chinese characters. She pushed back arguing that the language of the Uyghurs was a Turkic one, so numerals made more sense than characters. It got heated, she backed down. We met for lunch after and she was reeling, about the incident as well as the general ill-treatment of Uyghurs. Days later I read about a baby girl who had been left on a doorstep a few miles away from where I was living, a victim of the One-Child Policy. Not the first victim, nor the last. I started to write about these injustices, only by this stage I had wised up – it would have to be with foreign press.

A few years later, in 2011, I was living in Beijing. China’s capital was and is, by many measures, a harder city to live in than Shanghai and I knew that. Brutally cold winters, an urban sprawl that’s unsuited to walking. But the real challenge about Beijing then was how quickly the country’s politics had moved on in just a matter of years. If Facebook was my early barometer of openness, then its blocking in 2009 was a sign that China’s doors were closing. Gmail ran at a sluggish pace, if at all. Communicating with those outside China was seamless one day, impossible the next.

As for the attitude towards foreigners, which was once warm, this too was starting to change. One night I was locked inside a bar – police officers were outside demanding papers of foreigners. In a dispatch I wrote following the event long-time expats told me they’d never been treated with such hostility.

Most memorable of all was the Bo Xilai scandal in the spring of 2012. With the mysterious death of a UK national, a “love nest” traced to Bournemouth, a security officer seeking refuge in Chengdu’s US consulate, and a Chinese power couple and their Harvard-educated son at the centre, it was little wonder the news gripped people outside China. Inside China it was a different matter. Details were tightly controlled and spun. Bo was charged with corruption in a resoundingly clear message – a new era was starting and favouritism would no longer be tolerated. The charismatic figure’s dramatic fall from grace was, if anything, the first real taste of how Xi would treat his opponents – ruthlessly. Today Bo remains in prison, serving a life sentence.

I left China, this time for good, just after Xi Jinping took office. Despite some early warning signs, the mood was still somewhat hopeful as I departed. Maybe the creeping authoritarianism that had come to define the end of the Hu era would recede under Xi? Such hopes were quickly dashed. From the get-go Xi has put in a level of energy to crush dissent that is dizzying to say the least. Ten years on, the ways in which he has attacked civil society is substantial. Here are some headlines:

–       In the treatment of Uyhgurs, of which over one million are currently in concentration camps, he has presided over arguably the largest genocide the world has seen since the 1940s. In fact, oppression of minorities is so intense under his leadership that people struggle to keep up. Tibet, once a hot topic for the rights-minded, has dropped off the list – people are too overwhelmed and distracted by the other things the CCP are doing.

–       Scores of activists, lawyers, writers, publishers, scholars and employees of NGOs have been rounded up and imprisoned. Many of those detained have also appeared on state-run TV confessing to “crimes” ahead of their trial. The treatment of the “Feminist Five”, a group of women who were arrested in 2015 for simply speaking out against the country’s sexual harassment problem, is just one example in an exhaustive list.

–       The number of independent journalists in China has been significantly wheedled down. Foreign reporters have been driven out, either because their visas weren’t renewed or because they couldn’t operate anymore in an environment in which access to information is tightly controlled. Foreign news sites have been blocked, while Chinese sites have been closed. In 2016, for example, news services run by some of China’s biggest online portals, such as Sina’s News Geek, Sohu’s Click Today, and NetEase’s Signpost, were all shut for publishing independent reports instead of official statements.

–       Indeed, getting information out of the country has become much harder, almost impossible. I used to report for Index from China. Then I worked at Index with reporters from China. Today I struggle to get anyone to write for us on the ground, let alone talk to us on the record.

–       Under Xi’s term, one of the most vibrant and liberal cities in the world – Hong Kong – has been gutted of freedoms. Hundreds are in jail, including high-profile figures like Jimmy Lai and Joshua Wong. Thousands more have fled.

–       The tools of repression have spilled beyond China and Hong Kong’s borders. Across the globe, CCP spies harass and threaten dissidents, as highlighted in our Banned By Beijing reports. It’s not just dissidents in Beijing’s firing line. Daryl Morey, general manager of the Houston Rockets, found himself in hot water in 2019 when he tweeted in support of the Hong Kong pro-democracy protesters. Several Chinese businesses suspended ties with the basketball team, including China’s major sports networks who stopped broadcasting their matches. Basketball is big business in China, with hundreds of millions of fans watching NBA matches. Morey quickly deleted his original tweet and apologised.

As said, these are just the headlines.

In 2018 Xi took the unprecedented move of overturning the two-term limit for the presidency, in place since 1982. On 16 October the 20th Party Congress will be hosted in Beijing in which the leadership will be decided for the next five years. After rounds of purges to sweep up his political rivals, the assumption is Xi will retain the top job. Embarking on his third term in power will make him the longest serving leader in the CCP since Mao Zedong. Ever an optimist I hope that when I reflect on Xi Jinping’s next five years in power I can point to more positive things. Being realistic, the trend of the last 15 years under Hu and Xi would suggest that’s unlikely.

At this moment in time it’s not safe for me to return to China. I hope that changes. I’d love to visit the country again and I’d love my kids to go too. More than my own small hopes of returning are my hopes for those 1.4 billion people from there, alongside the seven million residents in Hong Kong. Living in a pluralistic society that tolerates dissent, that is free and transparent, should be a basic right not a geographical privilege.

It’s poignant thinking back to the fast-food article anecdote from the viewpoint of 2022. The city of Shanghai, which pulsated with life 15 years ago, has been brought to its knees over the last few years. Lockdown after lockdown after lockdown has shown that not only can the CCP control the nation’s waistlines if they want to, they can control just about anything. People have literally been locked in their homes and starved by their government – that is how much control the CCP has amassed under Xi Jinping. I wish we were ushering in a new leader and a better era this weekend. That day will come and until then myself, alongside my colleagues at Index, will continue fighting.

Contents – The beautiful game? Qatar, football and freedom

The autumn issue of Index takes as its central theme the FIFA World Cup that will take place in Qatar in November and December 2022.

A country where human rights are constantly under threat, Qatar is under the spotlight and many are calling for a boycott of the tournament.

Index spoke to journalists, human rights activists and philosophers for the latest issue to understand their view on the tangled relationship between football and human rights. Is football really the beautiful game?

Upfront

The Qatar conundrum, by Jemimah Steinfeld: The World Cup is throwing up questions.

The Index, by Mark Frary: The latest in the world of freedom of expression, with internet shutdowns and Salman Rushdie’s attack in the spotlight. Plus George M Johnson on being banned.

Features

An unholy war on speech, by Sarah Myers: A woman sits on death row in Pakistan. Her crime? Saying she was a prophet.

Perfecting the art of oppression, by Martha Otwinowski: Poland’s art scene is the latest victim of nasty politics.

Poland’s redemption songs, by Martin Bright: In anti-apartheid solidarity, reggae rode with revolution in Europe.

Fighting back against vendetta politics, by Hanan Zaffar and Hamaad Habibullah: In India, tackling fake news can land you in a cell.

The mafia state that is putty in Putin’s hands, by Mark Seacombe: The truth behind the spread of pro-Russian propaganda in Bulgaria.

Bodies of evidence, by Sarah Sands: A new frontier of journalism with echoes of a crime scene investigator.

Chasing after rights, by Ben Rogers: The activist on being followed by Chinese police.

The double closet, by Flo Marks: Exploring the rampant biphobia that pushes many to silence their sexuality.

Is there a (real) doctor in the house? By John Lloyd: One journalist uncovers the secret of Romania’s doctored doctorates.

The mice hear the words of the night, by Jihyun Park: A schooling in free expression, where the classroom is North Korea.

The most dangerous man in Guantanamo, by Katie Dancey-Downs: After years in Guantanamo, a journalist dedicates himself to protecting others.

America’s coolest members club, by Olivia Sklenka: Meet the people fighting against the surge in book bans.

Special report: The beautiful game?

Victim of its own success? By Simon Barnes: Blame the populists, not the game.

Stadiums built on suffering, by Abdullah Al-Maliki: Underneath the suds of Qatar’s sportswashing, fear and terror remain.

Football’s leaving home, by Katie Dancey-Downs: Khalida Popal put women on the pitch in Afghanistan, before leading their evacuation.

Exposing Saudi’s nasty tactics, by Adam Crafton: A sports journalist is forced into defence after tackling Saudi Arabia’s homophobia.

It’s foul play in Kashmir, by Bilal Ahmad Pandow: Protest and politically motivated matches are entwined in Kashmir’s football history.

How ‘industrial football’ was used to silence protests, by Kaya Genç: Political football: how to bend it like Erdoğan.

Xi’s real China dream, by Jonathan Sullivan: While freedoms are squeezed, China’s leader has a World Cup-sized dream.

Tackling Israel’s thorny politics, by Daniella Peled: Can Palestinians de-facto national team carve out a space for free expression?

The stench of white elephants, by Jamil Chade: Brazil’s World Cup swung open Pandora’s Box.

The real game is politics, by Issa Sikiti da Silva: Is politics welcome on the pitch in Kenya?

Comment

Refereeing rights, by Julian Baggini: Why we shouldn’t expect footballers to hand out human rights red cards.

The other half, by Permi Jhooti: The real-life inspiration behind Bend it like Beckham holds up a mirror to her experience.

We don’t like it – no one cares, by Mark Glanville: English football has moved away from listening to its fans argues this Millwall supporter.

Much ado about critics, by Lyn Gardner: A theatre objects to an offensive Legally Blonde review.

On reputation laundering, by Ruth Smeeth: Beware those who want to control their own narrative.

Culture

The soul of Sudan, by Stella Gaitano and Katie Dancey-Downs: What does it mean for deep-running connections when you’re forced to leave? Censored writer Stella Gaitano introduces a new translation of her work.

Moving the goalposts, by Kaya Genç and Guilherme Osinski: Football and politics are a match made in Turkey. Kaya Genç fictionalises an unforgettable game.

Away from the satanic, by Malise Ruthven: A leading expert on Salman Rushdie writes about an emerging liberalism in Islamic discourse.

Iran shuts down internet after protests spiral over 22-year-old’s death

Iranians are again finding it impossible to access the internet and social media messaging platforms after yet another shutdown by the country’s authorities. The move comes after protests erupted in the country, sparked by the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini (right) last Friday.

Critics say the shutdown of services and the filtering of content is restricting freedom of expression and preventing peaceful protest. Access to news in Iran is strictly controlled by the government and for many Iranians, their only access to independent news sources is through digital platforms.

Amini, a Kurdish woman from Saggez in Iranian Kurdistan, was visiting relatives in Tehran on 13 September when she was arrested by the Gasht-e Ershad. These so-called “morality police” uphold respect for Islamic morals, including detaining women who they see as being improperly dressed, such as wearing revealing or tight-fitting clothing or not wearing the required hijab.

The morality police detained Amini as she and her brother were coming out of the city’s Haqqani metro station. Eyewitnesses said Amini was brutally assaulted by the agents inside their vehicle and then taken to a police station.

Two hours after her arrest, Amini went into a coma. She was then taken to Kasra Hospital where doctors said she had suffered a heart stroke and brain haemorrhage due to a fractured skull. She died on Friday, 16 September.

Ever since her death, protests have spread across the country, reaching more than 80 cities nationwide. In typical fashion, the authorities have responded by shutting down access to the internet in a bid to quell the protests.

Iran is one of the world’s biggest censors of the internet. The country has been concerned about the internet since the turn of the millennium and has been operating a sophisticated system of hardware and software-based content filtering ever since. A broad project now known as the National Information Network (NIN), and similar to China’s Great Firewall, was launched in 2005. It requires companies to use Iranian data centres and forces internet users to register using their social IDs and telephone numbers.

NIN was finally fully implemented in 2019 and that same year Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei said of the internet, “During these past 40 years, and today as ever, the enemy’s propaganda and communication policy, as well as its most active programmes, have revolved around making people and even our officials and statesmen lose their hope in the future. False news, biased analysis, reversing facts, concealing the hopeful aspects, amplifying small problems and berating or denying great advantages, have been constantly on the agenda of thousands of audio-visual and internet-based media by the enemies of the Iranian people.”

The country also has a history of using internet shutdowns to crack down on dissent.

In 2019, protests broke out across the country when the Iranian government announced a 50 per cent increase in fuel prices and monthly rationing of petrol. More than 100 people died, according to reports. The government swiftly shut down the internet and mobile networks for several days.

In February 2021, at least ten fuel couriers in Sistan and Baluchistan province on the border with Pakistan were killed after a two-day stand-off triggered by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps blocking the road to the city of Saravan. The killings triggered demonstrations, leading to further deaths, and the regime shut down the internet across several cities in the province.

The UN High Commissioner for Human Rights said at the time:Blanket internet shutdowns violate the principles of necessity and proportionality applicable to restrictions of freedom of expression and constitute a violation of international human rights law.”

The protests around the death of Mahsa Amini have seen the Iranian authorities reach for the internet shutdown playbook once more.

NetBlocks and AccessNow report that internet access began to be disrupted in Tehran and other parts of the country on the day of Amini’s death and on Monday 19 September, internet access was shut down almost totally in parts of the Kurdistan province.

The KeepItOn coalition, of which AccessNow is a member, said that this represents Iran’s third internet shutdown in less than 12 months. They said the “repressive, knee-jerk response to recent protests seriously interferes with people’s right to freedom of expression and assembly”.

Iranians have increasingly resorted to using unfiltered channels to get their news, as the only parts of the internet that they can access are censored. By 2018, it was believed that more than half of Iran’s population were using Telegram. In April that year the judiciary banned the popular messaging app, claiming it has been used to organise attacks and street protests. Since then, Iranians have switched to WhatsApp and Instagram.

It comes as no surprise that with the current protests NetBlocks has reported that access to Instagram, one of the last remaining social media platforms in Iran, was restricted across all major internet providers on Wednesday 21 September.

The authorities appear to have clamped down because of the widespread nature of the protests and, perhaps more worryingly for the regime, a large number of video clips that have gone viral and which they are keen to suppress.

A peaceful protest in Saqqez

Not just the young

A clip of several men defending a woman who has removed her hijab

Another video clip shared on Twitter by British comedian Omid Djalili, whose parents are Iranian, suggested that, perhaps, attitudes may finally be changing in Iran.

Responding to the crackdown on protest and the internet shutdowns, experts from the UN Human Rights Council’s Special Procedures group said in a statement, “Disruptions to the internet are usually part of a larger effort to stifle the free expression and association of the Iranian population, and to curtail ongoing protests. State-mandated internet disruptions cannot be justified under any circumstances.”

“Over the past four decades, Iranian women have continued to peacefully protest against the compulsory hijab rules and the violations of their fundamental human rights,” the experts said. “Iran must repeal all legislation and policies that discriminate on the grounds of sex and gender, in line with international human rights standards.”

Speaking to Index, exiled Iranian film-maker Vahid Zarezdeh said the WhatsApp and Instagram ban means he has been cut off from his young son and the rest of his family still in the country.

He said, “In the absence of independent parties and free media, Iranian society gets its news and events, social and political issues from the internet. News reaches its audience very quickly and people can easily distinguish fake news from real news. How, you ask? The solution is very easy. By looking at the state television, you can understand which news is true and which is false. Whenever the government reacts sharply to news and prepares a report, it is very likely that the news is true, and when it ignores the news and is indifferent, it means that it is fake.”

State TV has been reporting on the protests but its coverage has focused less on the protests by women and instead suggesting that the unrest has been caused by Iran’s enemies, rather than spurred on by the regime’s crackdown. Certainly, TV viewers in the country have not seen the clips above.

“This is a system of repression and the Iranian regime does not care what the world community thinks about it and human rights,” said Zarezdeh.

He added, “It’s more than forty years since Iranian women started to be ignored by the Islamic regime.  Now they have found the courage and belief to stand in front of the bullets with empty hands and without a scarf.

Mexican journalists are still being failed

Murdered journalists in Mexico

People march in the streets of Mexico to protest the death of journalist and photographer Rubén Espinosa, killed in Mexico City in 2015. Photo: Eneasmx/wikimedia commons

Mexico has long been a ruthless place for journalists and press freedom. According to the international human rights organisation Article 19, 156 journalists have been murdered in Mexico since 2000. Of the total, 144 were men and 12 were women. In April 2017, the journalist Duncan Tucker revealed in Index on Censorship magazine that it was really common for the newsrooms of local media to have drug cartel spies and informants infiltrated as staff members. Threats from corrupt government officials were also a daily problem for the Mexican press.

“Without a drastic change, Mexico and its journalists will face an even bleaker future,” Tucker wrote. Sadly, five years on this drastic change has not arrived in Mexico. Eleven journalists have lost their lives so far this year in the country due to their work. The most recent example is Juan Arjón López, who was killed with a blow to his head in the state of Sonora, in August.

One of the most dangerous regions for journalists in Mexico is the state of Veracruz: between December 2010 and November 2016, when Javier Duarte was governor of the state, 18 journalists were killed. A well-known case was the death of Regina Martínez Pérez, a journalist who investigated corruption in Veracruz and its connection with drug cartels. Her body was found in her flat on 28 April 2012, strangled to death. Four years later, Duarte resigned as governor following a series of corruption scandals, which led to a nine-year sentence in jail.

To understand more about this situation, Index talked to Mexican journalist Témoris Grecko, who currently lives in Mexico City and is a columnist for Aristegui Notícias, and a contributor to other media including Milenio Daily, La Octava TV and Rompeciento TV. In 2020 Grecko’s book, Killing the Story: Journalists risking their lives to uncover the truth in Mexico, was published.

Drug cartels seem to be a massive threat across Mexico. What is the relationship between them and the government or public officials?

The first thing I’d like to point out is that there is a bit of a myth regarding narco-trafficking in Mexico. Of course, it exists and there are many criminal gangs, but it’s not to be blamed for everything and that’s what happens. If a woman is killed or a journalist is killed, or something terrible happens, you can’t only blame the narco-trafficking and that’s it. And the narcos serve to mask many other activities. Many of the gangs are secondarily dedicated to narco-trafficking. Maybe they are in different kinds of smuggling, or they are doing illegal logging. Narcos are believed to be opposed to the government, but the real international mafias are in many governments, criminal gangs are usually related to people who work in the government, either in the Mexican government or the American. And in this way, the narcos need to be blamed for what happens to journalists of course, but organisations that are working with freedom of speech, such as Reporters Without Borders (RSF) and the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), have collected data that shows that most aggressions are coming from official figures, maybe from politicians, political parties, police, the army or other authorities.

What kind of story can be the most dangerous one for journalists to work on?

There is crime-related journalism. But also, journalists who are exposing activities from mega companies. Maybe mining or logging companies or companies who are doing labour exploitation, and of course activities of politicians. For instance, we suspect Rubén Espinosa [who worked for the investigative magazine Proseco], a photographer murdered in 2015 in Mexico City, was killed by people linked to the then governor of the state of Veracruz, Javier Duarte. And this is because he felt very uncomfortable with some of the pictures that Rubén had published, that didn’t show Duarte in the life he wanted to be seen [the best example is a photo that Espinosa took for the left-wing news magazine Proceso, which showed Duarte’s white shirt with his name embroidered on it and a police cap written “Governor”]. And there have been journalists obviously murdered by criminal gangs, such as Javier Valdez [who became known for covering drug cartels], killed in 2017 in the state of Sinaloa.

Is there a particular region in Mexico that you consider the most dangerous for journalists?

By far the state of Veracruz. Two-thirds of the killings have happened there since 2010 and then there are other very dangerous states, such as Sinaloa, Guajaca and Tamaulipas. But sometimes it is not only about killings, but other types of aggression. For instance, maybe in the state of Tamaulipas they don’t kill so many journalists, but they are regularly beaten up or threatened. Persecuted somehow. Tamaulipas is the best example of what we call a silence zone. A place where politicians and criminal gangs control the news. They have people that we call ‘enlaces, who work as press officers for these powerful people. And they are in touch with the journalists to tell them what can be published and what cannot. And also they suggest, which is actually an imposition, some news or photographs that they want to see published.

Have you ever been threatened due to your work as a journalist in Mexico City?

Not in Mexico. While working in the Middle East, Africa and Asia, yes [Grecko has covered conflicts in places like Libya, Egypt, Iran, Syria, Palestine, Congo and The Phillippines], but not in Mexico.

How do you manage to keep yourself safe in this ruthless environment?

First of all, there is a massive difference between living in the capital and other states. With my team and my crew, when we go to work in risky states, we have security protocols which include making sure our sources are safe, using secure communication channels, and studying entry and exit ways. We monitor each other. We try to spend the least possible time there. We don’t really tell anyone what we are doing. We are also very careful in trying to keep our sources safe. And in my case, as a more public person, exposure should be a bit of a shield to protect, even if it’s never enough.           

What do you believe could be done to overcome this situation and make Mexico a safer place for journalists?

There are different initiatives. For twelve years we’ve had a mechanism for the protection of human rights defenders and journalists [called The Special Prosecutor For Attention to Crimes Committed against Freedom of Expression, or Feadle in Spanish, it was created in 2010 to tackle the increase in attacks, particularly murders, against journalists and its measures have included panic buttons for threatened journalists, installed security cameras at their homes and bodyguards in extreme situations]. This has saved some lives and protected some people, but also has had very resounding failures. Also, the problem with this mechanism is that it shouldn’t exist. It is needed due to Mexican justice’s failure to take the aggressors of journalists to accountability. What we really need is that the justice system and prosecutors really go after those who are committing these aggressions, and these crimes and take them to jail. I think that less than 1% of crimes committed against journalists in Mexico are actually punished, meaning that the potential aggressors have no deterrent. And they know that they can get away with it. This is something that encourages them to perpetrate these crimes. The Special Prosecutor For Attention to Crimes Committed against Freedom of Expression and its office is more of a problem for us than a help. They rarely do their most basic work. Only when there’s great public or political interest putting pressure on them. They tend to dismiss the journalistic work of a victim as a cause of the crime and tend to suggest sexual or romantic causes instead. They need to remove everyone from the head of the Office and try to rebuild it from scratch. And put people there who are professional and who really want to do their jobs. What they are actually doing is making life more difficult for journalists.

Have you ever thought of leaving the country for good?

I’ve lived in several countries due to work. But no, I don’t feel personally threatened in Mexico. I could leave at any time, but this is not something that obscures my daily life. I’m fine with that. In Mexico City journalists have a privilege. It shouldn’t be like this, but we have the privilege of security. There are other things threatening us here, other ways of hurting us here. Photographers who cover street protests, for example, have a degree of risk. But we have to use this privilege to focus on the journalists working in risky and dangerous areas. In this century in which so many journalists have been killed in Mexico, only one was in Mexico City [Rubén Espinosa], but it was a crime linked to the state of Veracruz. He came to Mexico City to find refuge here, but sadly they came after him.