To visit Gaochang is to step backward hundreds of years. The history of that ancient metropolis is central to Xinjiang, the city in northwest region of China that is home to the minority Uyghur people. To reach the city you must first stroll through the dusty streets of Kharakoja, which the Chinese call the “village of the two forts,” located near Turpan, on the northern edges of the Taklamakan Desert. Nearing Gaochang you see ancient stone walls and the ruins of Buddhist temples. Near the entrances to the city’s archaeological site, hawkers dressed in silk and peddle objects made from jade. Ahead, young women in veils, wagon and mule drivers, creep slowly forward. Summer brings temperatures of more than 50° Celsius. Everyone around me is a Uyghur. They form 46 percent of the population of modern Xinjiang, though tourist placards are written only in Chinese. “Gaochang is an ancient Buddhist city,” reads one, “founded in the first century BC, “where peoples and religions coexisted.” Visibly overlapping styles of artifacts, coins, wall paintings, temples and homes show a succession of rulers. The then-sovereign Uyghurs of Central Asia and the Chinese Han imperial dynasties belonged to an era of reigns and powerbrokers in which categories of ethnicity and boundaries were neither well-defined nor relevant. What mattered was wielding of authority, winning wars and belonging to a family clan. Pacts determined the territorial geometry of the dominant and the dominated. The city of Gaochang covers tens of kilometers. The minaret of the colorful, ceramic-rich main mosque of the village Kharakoja is visible between the walls, halls, temples and staircases. In the seventh century, Islam began supplanting Buddhism and other local religions. The population gradually acquired a strong Islamic  identity. But local residents refused to yield to the religious syncretism of a pre-Islamic past. In today’s Xinjiang, the capital of the Uyghur Autonomous Region, shamanism, animism, Christianity, Manichaeism and Buddhism all coexist. Barely perceptible traces of these religions can also be found in context of syncretistic Islam practiced in some rural areas. Walking through the temples and once-time homes of these ancient peoples taxes minds that are accustomed to seeing categories of ethnicity in rigid terms. Gaochang, a major commercial hub on the Silk Road and regional power-center, lacked fixed boundaries. Borders, real and imagined, and the very nature of space, were constantly shifting. 

Fluid boundaries and changing identities belonged to an era that eschewed both ethnic categories and linear borders. Many local territories were never fully incorporated by empires or foreign powers. Territorial domination was in many cases fleeting and covered only small parts of a vast region. What is now referred to Chinese Xinjiang, or the “new territories,” was historically a contested area in which nomads who populated the northern steppes raided the agricultural oases of the Tarim Basin, their chiefs often allied with ruling Central Asian potentates. These crossborder raids troubled Chinese authorities, which viewed the incursions of peoples from the steppes with concern. The hunt for crops on the one hand and the need for a territorial buffer that would protect both rural and bureaucratic China, placed the population of what is now Xinjiang in an increasingly precarious position. Alliances, deals and brokering between Uyghur and Han leaders, the latter including nomad chieftains, dominated regional policy until the 19th century. In the second half of the 18th century, expansionist campaigns by Emperor Qianlong of the Qing dynasty brought the outlying Xinjiang territories into the Chinese empire for the first time. But the real Han integration began with 19th century bureaucratic reforms and immigration policies. These laid the foundation for the creation for an administrative system capable of controlling outlying regions. They also opened the door to the transferring of parts of the Han population from coastal and inland regions to the new frontier. These migrations gradually grew in size, becoming massive, and were the hallmark of a Chinese strategy completely reshape the region’s demographic balance. The 20th century policies of Mao as well as those of the ruling Chinese leadership can be seen as continuation and strengthening of such older measures. 

They extract oil and the riches buried in our subsoil and use it to fuel their coastal development. They farm the region’s most fertile lands, take the best jobs each sector has to offer, and get the last word in all matters of local government. Wherever you see Uyghur officials, rest assured they’re always deputy chiefs working under Han leadership.» We meet Adil, 25, on the bus between Turpan to Urumqi, the capital of the region. He doesn’t mince words about how he sees the role of the Han. At the same time, young Uyghurs are often torn between their own strong sense of ethnic identity and the wish to share China’s economic boom. Most copy the Han in looks and clothing, but refuse to put aside deeper doubts. Prominent among them is Uyghurs concern about the future of the raw materials located under the Taklamakan desert and the steppes of Xinjiang. The flame-spewing oil derricks that line the two-lane road that cuts north-to-south through the Taklamakan desert was built in 1995 to help channel oil from Tarim to other parts of China. It contains a sea of trucks and container convoys. The spurting of the flames and the roars of the vehicles break the night quiet of the bus trip from Urumqi in the north to Khotan, a city south of the desert. According to official sources, oil production from Xinjiang meets about a seventh of China’s total national demand while its reserves represent a quarter of the total. According to the Chinese National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC), natural gas production amounts to some 100 billion cubic meters, making Xinjiang China’s largest producer. Large reserves of uranium and coal have also increased the region’s stock. If that weren’t enough, it enjoys an enviably geopolitical position (bordering Russia, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Kashmir) and is as large as Italy, France and Germany combined, making up a sixth of China’s total national territory. The West-East Gas Pipeline (WEGP), built in 2005, gets its start in Tarim and snakes 4,000 kilometers to Shanghai. Work on a second pipeline, this one projected at 9,000 kilometers, was begun 2008 and will run from Gansu to Canton. China is also building a pipeline from Turkmenistan to China expected to run through Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Xinjiang. According Chinese government plans, five more pipelines will bring even more natural gas from Central Asia to China, and each one will pass through Xinjiang. Beijing continues investing heavily in Xinjiang, mostly for the exploration, extraction and transport of natural resources. It’s a costly effort. Although specific data on investment, subsidies and funding hard to find and analyze, economist Calla Wiemer and human rights researcher Nichola Bequelin managed to publish studies on how expensive Xinjiang is to Beijing. Beijing’s dependence on the region erodes much of Xinjiang’s legitimate autonomy. The relationship between central, regional institutions and the Mao-developed Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps, an autonomous body that Bequelin says controls 48 percent of the total territory, often create rivalries and tension. Shortage of water, poor infrastructure, transport costs, and road maintenance expenses as a result of extremely harsh weather conditions sees regional authorities making increasingly steep financial demands of Beijing, fueling the tension between China’s administrative center and its extreme western province. Add to that discontent within the local population – there have been a number of Han-Uygher clashes in recent months – and Communist Party concerns seem justified. Official documents repeatedly describe the Xinjiang as the major domestic political headache for the government of President Hu Jintao.

Today, Beijing is working to assure the integration of its outlying areas into a clearer concept of a Chinese whole. What were once once-open, illdefined territories with dubious borders have since been reined in thanks to an efficient bureaucracy and considerable use of political propaganda and military might. The “periphery” is now part of the “core,” which urban geographer Piper R. Gaubatz defines as part of a transition from unchecked borders to settled lands. The defining of borders permits the cultural, economical and political incorporation of the “periphery.” In this way, Beijing intends to spread the prosperity and modernity that have already standard in some other areas of China to Xinjiang. Stronger ties between Xinjiang and Beijing have led to improvements in infrastructure, seen the building of schools, hospitals, and futuristic cities. It has also enabled some of the region’s population to adopt standards of modern life. The Chinese media regularly cites Xinjiang success stories. “In the municipalities of Kashgar, 88 percent of population has at least one TV set,” one report read; “running water is now available in villages on the southern edge of the desert,” wrote another. The spread of wealth and the deployment of “affirmative action” policies help Beijing defend itself from human rights detractors. “Ethnic minorities can enroll for high school degrees with lower grades than those required of the Han; they can have more children (two in the city, three in the countryside), while the Han have the onlychild requirement; they enjoy a fast-track to the upper levels of the party.” This is how the mayor of Kashgar, interviewed Britain’s Channel 4, responded to a question about the demolition of Old Kashgar and the resulting displacement of the Uyghur population. According to “The New York Times,” 900 families were moved from Kashgar’s Old City ahead of a city decision to demolish at least 85 percent the mostly run-down homes and shops. It was not the position of the Chinese government, Kashgar’s mayor added angrily, to have its citizens live in dilapidated homes to amuse tradition-seeking tourists – tourists who in turn wouldn’t spend a single night in mud houses devoid of essential services. The message was clear: China was bringing modernity, prosperity, health system and education to an underdeveloped population that until recently lived in abject poverty. Using ad hoc policies, Beijing was also encouraging its minorities. These days, there are more SUVs and skyscrapers. Shopping areas and entertainment complexes are more common, most increasingly populated by a young middle class with money to spend. Yet clashes between Uyhurs and Han cost 200 dead, thousands of injuries, and hundreds of arrests (and death sentences) in July and September clashes. These violent outbursts have upset the best laid Chinese government plans, or to paraphrase sociologist Michael Hechter, its belief in “dissemination.” In Xinjiang, the gap between conditions in cities and rural areas is greater than it is elsewhere in China. Villages suffer chronic drought, endure awful hygiene, and witness high infant mortality rates. Extremely low literacy rates are in part nurtured by religion and family dicta that still defy the idea of “core” integration. Economist Wiemer confirms this impression. Economic integration, she says, is occurring only along ethnic lines, with major inequities in the distribution of wealth. The workplace, meanwhile, is dominated by what Hechter refers to as a “cultural division of labor.” The most lucrative and prestigious posts go to the Han, with Uyghurs filling in the remaining spots. Even taking into account much-peddled concept of cultural integration, the situation seems little better, particularly when it comes to Muslim practices: public sector employees are “invited” to disregard religious obligations such as praying five times daily, the veil, fasting during the Ramadan, and an annual pilgrimage to Mecca. Moreover, those not fluent in Chinese are hard-pressed to find jobs. Even those with degrees must to some extent “reinvent” themselves as retailers or tourist guide. Researcher Bequelin notes grave discriminatory policies at the religious and linguistic levels. It increasingly apparent Beijing wants drown the religious and cultural identity of Uyghur population, seeking to make the local language itself into little more than a rural dialect. Han immigration, increased trade, new infrastructure and modern telecommunications system have certainly increased the extent and nature of the contact between “core” and “periphery,” but none of this has been translated to gains for the local population when it comes to individual rights and a greater sense of social inclusion. The region’s resistance to the idea of being co-opted into a malleable political partner of Beijing as well as the government’s systematic refusal to recognize local cultural identity has led much of the Uyghur population to move toward a new strategy, one which on while accepting the idea of new development standards continues to assert its claim to cultural identity, a tendency that Beijing labels separatist or even terrorist.