Suchitra Vijayan speaks with Abduweli Ayup, writer, linguist, and one of the most significant chroniclers of the Uyghur genocide. Their conversation traces how China’s “People’s War on Terror” in Xinjiang evolved into an unprecedented system of algorithmic suppression. This model of mass repression uses surveillance, biometric data, and AI-enabled policing function as instruments of erasure. They examine how the technologies of control that dominate Xinjiang today grew out of earlier experiments in Tibet and have since become templates exported around the world.
Abduweli situates the Uyghur crisis within a longer history of systematic destruction of community life. He describes how Uyghur language, once the core of identity and imagination, has been deliberately targeted: children forbidden from speaking it at home, parents punished for using it on the phone, and entire generations funnelled into state-run boarding schools designed to sever cultural memory. What distinguishes this genocide, he argues, is not only its scale but its capacity to imprison thought itself.
The conversation then turns to the architecture of surveillance that makes this possible. Abduweli explains how the Integrated Joint Operations Platform (a vast data system initially developed using U.S. technologies) links a person’s phone, bank card, ID, health records, and social networks into a single apparatus. This system determines who becomes a suspect. It is this integration, he says, that turns daily life into a site of constant vulnerability.
Suchitra and Abduweli also trace how the technologies tested on Tibetans and perfected on Uyghurs now circulate globally. From Zimbabwe to Venezuela to Qatar, Chinese-built “safe city” infrastructures, and facial recognition frameworks have been exported. This creates a supply chain where American microchips, Chinese algorithms, and Gulf capital produce new forms of mass control.
The discussion widens into an examination of forced labour transfers and the economic logic that sustains genocide. As visible mass detentions drew international attention, China shifted, under the guise of “poverty alleviation,” to relocating hundreds of thousands of Uyghurs to factories across 18 provinces. This model is more insidious than the camps: it uproots people from their communities, and folds their labour into global supply chains. From seafood processing plants to fashion brands to automobile manufacturing, Uyghur forced labour is the backbone.
The episode closes with a meditation on complicity. The Uyghur genocide is made possible by transnational networks of technology firms, investment funds, and consumer markets. Without Silicon Valley’s chips, international capital, and global demand for cheap labour and surveillance tools, the machinery of repression could not function at its current scale. The Uyghur genocide is a final warning. It demands a reckoning with what we buy, what we ignore, and what kind of human future we are willing to defend.
—
Abduweli Ayup is a Uyghur activist born in Kashgar, China, in 1973. In August 2013, he was detained by Chinese authorities for his efforts to promote Uyghur linguistic rights by opening schools to teach children the Uyghur language. His detention lasted until November 2014. In 2016, Ayup founded the non-profit Uyghur Hjelp to investigate and document the plight of Uyghurs and advocate for their cause. He has continued his efforts to open Uyghur language schools and publish Uyghur language textbooks in the diaspora.
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Suchitra Vijayan speaks with Abduweli Ayup, writer, linguist, and one of the most significant chroniclers of the Uyghur genocide. Their conversation traces how China’s “People’s War on Terror” in Xinjiang evolved into an unprecedented system of algorithmic suppression. This model of mass repression uses surveillance, biometric data, and AI-enabled policing function as instruments of erasure. They examine how the technologies of control that dominate Xinjiang today grew out of earlier experiments in Tibet and have since become templates exported around the world.
Abduweli situates the Uyghur crisis within a longer history of systematic destruction of community life. He describes how Uyghur language, once the core of identity and imagination, has been deliberately targeted: children forbidden from speaking it at home, parents punished for using it on the phone, and entire generations funnelled into state-run boarding schools designed to sever cultural memory. What distinguishes this genocide, he argues, is not only its scale but its capacity to imprison thought itself.
The conversation then turns to the architecture of surveillance that makes this possible. Abduweli explains how the Integrated Joint Operations Platform (a vast data system initially developed using U.S. technologies) links a person’s phone, bank card, ID, health records, and social networks into a single apparatus. This system determines who becomes a suspect. It is this integration, he says, that turns daily life into a site of constant vulnerability.
Suchitra and Abduweli also trace how the technologies tested on Tibetans and perfected on Uyghurs now circulate globally. From Zimbabwe to Venezuela to Qatar, Chinese-built “safe city” infrastructures, and facial recognition frameworks have been exported. This creates a supply chain where American microchips, Chinese algorithms, and Gulf capital produce new forms of mass control.
The discussion widens into an examination of forced labour transfers and the economic logic that sustains genocide. As visible mass detentions drew international attention, China shifted, under the guise of “poverty alleviation,” to relocating hundreds of thousands of Uyghurs to factories across 18 provinces. This model is more insidious than the camps: it uproots people from their communities, and folds their labour into global supply chains. From seafood processing plants to fashion brands to automobile manufacturing, Uyghur forced labour is the backbone.
The episode closes with a meditation on complicity. The Uyghur genocide is made possible by transnational networks of technology firms, investment funds, and consumer markets. Without Silicon Valley’s chips, international capital, and global demand for cheap labour and surveillance tools, the machinery of repression could not function at its current scale. The Uyghur genocide is a final warning. It demands a reckoning with what we buy, what we ignore, and what kind of human future we are willing to defend.
—
Abduweli Ayup is a Uyghur activist born in Kashgar, China, in 1973. In August 2013, he was detained by Chinese authorities for his efforts to promote Uyghur linguistic rights by opening schools to teach children the Uyghur language. His detention lasted until November 2014. In 2016, Ayup founded the non-profit Uyghur Hjelp to investigate and document the plight of Uyghurs and advocate for their cause. He has continued his efforts to open Uyghur language schools and publish Uyghur language textbooks in the diaspora.
The Genocidal Gaze: A conversation with Elizabeth Baer
Polis Project Conversation Series
29 minutes 23 seconds
3 years ago
The Genocidal Gaze: A conversation with Elizabeth Baer
Suchitra Vijayan in conversation with Elizabeth Baer about her book "The Genocidal Gaze."
The first genocide of the twentieth century, though not well known, was committed by Germans between 1904–1907 in the country we know today as Namibia, where they exterminated hundreds of Herero and Nama people and subjected the surviving indigenous men, women, and children to forced labor. The perception of Africans as subhuman—lacking any kind of civilization, history, or meaningful religion—and the resulting justification for the violence against them is what author Elizabeth R. Baer refers to as the “genocidal gaze,” an attitude that was later perpetuated by the Nazis. In The Genocidal Gaze: From German Southwest Africa to the Third Reich, Baer uses the metaphor of the gaze to trace linkages between the genocide of the Herero and Nama and that of the victims of the Holocaust. Significantly, Baer also considers the African gaze of resistance returned by the indigenous people and their leaders upon the German imperialists.
Polis Project Conversation Series
Suchitra Vijayan speaks with Abduweli Ayup, writer, linguist, and one of the most significant chroniclers of the Uyghur genocide. Their conversation traces how China’s “People’s War on Terror” in Xinjiang evolved into an unprecedented system of algorithmic suppression. This model of mass repression uses surveillance, biometric data, and AI-enabled policing function as instruments of erasure. They examine how the technologies of control that dominate Xinjiang today grew out of earlier experiments in Tibet and have since become templates exported around the world.
Abduweli situates the Uyghur crisis within a longer history of systematic destruction of community life. He describes how Uyghur language, once the core of identity and imagination, has been deliberately targeted: children forbidden from speaking it at home, parents punished for using it on the phone, and entire generations funnelled into state-run boarding schools designed to sever cultural memory. What distinguishes this genocide, he argues, is not only its scale but its capacity to imprison thought itself.
The conversation then turns to the architecture of surveillance that makes this possible. Abduweli explains how the Integrated Joint Operations Platform (a vast data system initially developed using U.S. technologies) links a person’s phone, bank card, ID, health records, and social networks into a single apparatus. This system determines who becomes a suspect. It is this integration, he says, that turns daily life into a site of constant vulnerability.
Suchitra and Abduweli also trace how the technologies tested on Tibetans and perfected on Uyghurs now circulate globally. From Zimbabwe to Venezuela to Qatar, Chinese-built “safe city” infrastructures, and facial recognition frameworks have been exported. This creates a supply chain where American microchips, Chinese algorithms, and Gulf capital produce new forms of mass control.
The discussion widens into an examination of forced labour transfers and the economic logic that sustains genocide. As visible mass detentions drew international attention, China shifted, under the guise of “poverty alleviation,” to relocating hundreds of thousands of Uyghurs to factories across 18 provinces. This model is more insidious than the camps: it uproots people from their communities, and folds their labour into global supply chains. From seafood processing plants to fashion brands to automobile manufacturing, Uyghur forced labour is the backbone.
The episode closes with a meditation on complicity. The Uyghur genocide is made possible by transnational networks of technology firms, investment funds, and consumer markets. Without Silicon Valley’s chips, international capital, and global demand for cheap labour and surveillance tools, the machinery of repression could not function at its current scale. The Uyghur genocide is a final warning. It demands a reckoning with what we buy, what we ignore, and what kind of human future we are willing to defend.
—
Abduweli Ayup is a Uyghur activist born in Kashgar, China, in 1973. In August 2013, he was detained by Chinese authorities for his efforts to promote Uyghur linguistic rights by opening schools to teach children the Uyghur language. His detention lasted until November 2014. In 2016, Ayup founded the non-profit Uyghur Hjelp to investigate and document the plight of Uyghurs and advocate for their cause. He has continued his efforts to open Uyghur language schools and publish Uyghur language textbooks in the diaspora.
