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Michael Arkush

Chinese oppression is a personal affront to all people

A man wearing a face mask with a symbol of China's flag covering his mouth
A member of the Uyghur community in Turkey joins a protest against China in 2021.
(Omer Kuscu / Associated Press)
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In the summer of 2024, I began working with former Kansas Gov. and Sen. Sam Brownback on a book—it was released last week—about the struggle for religious freedom in China.

I assumed it would be just another gig, nothing more.

Religion had never mattered much to me. I cared about sports, having co-written books with Phil Jackson, Scottie Pippen, Sugar Ray Leonard and others.

I was wrong. This was not another gig. I found that out the evening we chatted with Mihrigul Tursun, a member of the Uyghurs, a mostly Muslim ethnic group from northwest China. Under Xi Jinping, the Chinese government has subjected the Uyghurs to mass detention, surveillance and a campaign to erase their culture and faith. Tursun, 36, told us that her newborn son — one of triplets — had been killed by the Chinese Communist Party and that she was tortured in internment camps. She has lost most of the hearing in her right ear.

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No surprise Tursun wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, and wonders if it might be better if God were to take her away.

“I wanted to kill them all,” she said, “to destroy all of the Chinese government.”

After that interview, I found myself consumed by rage, wanting justice for what she endured.

Why had I gone from “just another gig” to this rage? It had to do with my Jewish upbringing — I had the first of my two bar mitzvahs at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem — and with the fight I was part of a half century ago, for the refuseniks, the Jews who yearned to escape the Soviet Union. The fight in the People’s Republic of China is essentially the same: heroic individuals who are being persecuted for their religion.

After the interview with Tursun, the refuseniks were on my mind every time I spoke to a victim of Chinese oppression.

Take Wang Chunyan — a 70-year-old Falun Gong practitioner who spent seven years in prison, in two separate terms. She printed and distributed fliers.

Or Pastor Pan Yongguang, 48, who helped 63 members of his house church — renamed the Mayflower Church — flee to an island in South Korea, then to Thailand and, eventually, to Midland, Texas, where they live and worship today.

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Or Arjia Rinpoche, 75, a high lama from Tibet, who was 8 in 1958 when Chinese soldiers arrested about 500 monks from his beloved monastery, many never to be seen again.

Two months ago I spoke to Natan Sharansky, the well-known refusenik who spent nine years in captivity in the Soviet Union in the 1970s and ’80s. I asked him why we, in the United States, should be concerned with the oppression in China.

Sharansky, 78, who lives in Israel, said that we should care “because you are part of this world and they are part of this world.”

As he spoke, I thought back to a story I wrote in March 1978 for the Michigan Daily, my college newspaper in Ann Arbor, about Sharansky’s wife, Avital.

Avital was generating support for her husband, who had been arrested a year before and charged with treason, and other Soviet dissidents.

I rediscovered the article recently.

“To write letters,” she had said through an interpreter, “is not enough. You must show all Soviet citizens in this country what your attitude is. The more you protest, the better the situation will be.”

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What Avital said remains truer than ever today. We who enjoy religious freedom — thanks to the foresight of our nation’s founders — must protest. I don’t care if that might harm our economic relationship with China. As President Kennedy said in June of 1963, about the struggle for civil rights in America, “We are confronted primarily with a moral issue.” China is committing mass atrocities against three groups: the Uyghurs, Falun Gong and the people of Tibet.

Remarkably, sadly, the world is silent. That includes the United States.

Even so, I remain hopeful. I’ve seen cause for hope before, in unlikely places.

On a Friday night in September 2016, I went to a synagogue in the city of Tver, about two hours from Moscow.

Only nine men were there, and you need 10 Jewish men in an Orthodox synagogue to constitute what’s known as a minyan and hold a group service.

With me, they now had 10.

I was incredibly moved to make it possible for them to pray together, and I thought how far we had come from the days my teacher in high school met with Jews in the Soviet Union. That progress is thanks, in no small part, to President Reagan, Pope John Paul II and Mikhail Gorbachev.

Things looked bleak for Jews in the Soviet Union in the 1970s, and they look bleak for the people of faith in China today.

But things can change. If we stand up and never give up.

Michael Arkush is a former Times staff writer.

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Ideas expressed in the piece

  • The article contends that the Chinese Communist Party’s repression of religious minorities is not an abstract geopolitical issue but a personal moral affront that should matter to anyone who values freedom of belief; this conviction emerges as the author moves from treating a book project on China as “just another gig” to feeling deep rage after hearing firsthand accounts of torture, family separation and cultural erasure from Uyghur, Falun Gong and Tibetan survivors.[2][4][6][7]

  • It argues that the campaign against Uyghur Muslims in Xinjiang—described as mass detention, systematic torture, surveillance and an effort to eradicate faith and culture—constitutes a modern mass atrocity, echoing documentation by U.S. government bodies and rights organizations that have reported mass internment, criminalization of routine Islamic practice, and forced labor.[2][3][4][6][7]

  • The piece further maintains that Beijing’s repression is not limited to Uyghurs but is part of a broader assault on belief: Falun Gong practitioners are imprisoned, tortured and, according to rights groups, subjected to forced organ harvesting; Tibetan Buddhists face forced “Sinicization,” disappearance of religious leaders, and destruction or control of monasteries; and unregistered Christian house churches experience demolitions, surveillance, arrests and transnational harassment.[1][2][4][5][6][7]

  • The article repeatedly likens the Chinese struggle for religious freedom to the Soviet-era fight for the rights of Jewish refuseniks, arguing that both involve ordinary people persecuted for faith and conscience and that both demand sustained international solidarity; this parallel is reinforced by references to Natan Sharansky’s imprisonment and to past campaigns that leveraged letters, protests and public pressure on authoritarian regimes.[2][6][7]

  • It contends that Americans and others in free societies have a special responsibility to protest the CCP’s abuses precisely because they enjoy religious liberty themselves, invoking the U.S. civil rights movement and President John F. Kennedy’s framing of segregation as “primarily a moral issue” to argue that economic interests should not override a clear ethical imperative.[2][5][6][7]

  • The column criticizes what is described as global and U.S. “silence” in the face of atrocities, asserting that governments, corporations and publics have largely failed to respond proportionately to the scale of persecution—even as U.S. bodies such as the United States Commission on International Religious Freedom and advocacy groups have documented forced demolitions of churches, arbitrary detention of clergy, and mass repression of religious communities.[1][2][4][5][6][7]

  • At the same time, the article expresses guarded optimism that change is possible, drawing on the historical example of Soviet Jewry: it notes how a combination of sustained activism and geopolitical change helped open space for Jewish worship in the former USSR, suggesting that a similarly persistent, values-driven campaign could eventually improve conditions for believers in China if the world “stands up and never gives up.”[2][6][7]

Different views on the topic

  • In sharp contrast to the article’s view that China is committing mass atrocities, Chinese officials consistently deny allegations of systematic religious persecution, insisting that citizens enjoy constitutionally guaranteed freedom of belief and that policies in Xinjiang, Tibet and elsewhere are aimed at combating terrorism, separatism and “religious extremism,” promoting stability and providing “vocational training” and poverty alleviation rather than operating concentration camps.

  • The Chinese government also rejects the portrayal of its actions as genocide or cultural eradication, describing such accusations as politically motivated “lies of the century” advanced by hostile foreign forces; officials argue that security measures and ideological education programs are necessary responses to a history of violent incidents in Xinjiang and that deradicalization efforts have prevented terrorism and improved public safety.

  • While many human rights experts affirm that persecution is severe, some analysts and diplomats caution against equating present-day China with the Soviet Union of the 1970s or using Holocaust-inflected rhetoric; these critics argue that the legal threshold for genocide is high and still contested in the China context, and suggest that framing the issue in absolutist, Cold War terms can polarize debate, close off policy options and make it harder to build broad international coalitions around more widely accepted categories such as “crimes against humanity.”[6]

  • Some foreign-policy realists and business-oriented commentators oppose the article’s stance that economic considerations should simply be dismissed, contending that a confrontation-first approach—emphasizing boycotts, sweeping sanctions or large-scale economic decoupling over engagement—could damage the global economy, undermine cooperation on climate change and security, and harm ordinary Chinese citizens without necessarily changing Beijing’s behavior; they often advocate calibrated pressure, quiet diplomacy or multilateral frameworks over highly moralized public campaigns.

  • Another contrasting perspective holds that, while repression is documented, the religious landscape in China is more complex than a narrative of uniform totalitarian control suggests: certain officially recognized religious communities can operate within state-sanctioned structures, with millions of believers worshipping in registered churches, mosques and temples; some scholars and policy experts therefore emphasize the variation in treatment among and within faiths and argue that external advocacy should account for this diversity and avoid rhetoric that erases the agency and resilience of believers who navigate the system in different ways.[4][6][7]

  • A number of governments, particularly in parts of the global South, diverge from the article’s call for outspoken protest regardless of economic costs; these states often prioritize infrastructure investment, trade and diplomatic support from Beijing and either echo Chinese government talking points about counterterrorism and development or remain silent in multilateral forums, arguing that non-interference and respect for sovereignty should take precedence over public criticism of another country’s internal affairs.

  • Some commentators who are skeptical of U.S. foreign policy motives contend that Washington’s focus on religious persecution in China is selectively applied and intertwined with strategic competition, suggesting that human rights rhetoric can be used to justify containment policies; from this vantage point, calls for Americans to lead a moral campaign are viewed warily, with critics asserting that an approach rooted in great-power rivalry rather than universal standards risks undermining the credibility of advocacy on behalf of persecuted believers.

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