“Bitter Winter” readers are familiar with the “lonely Uyghur” protesting in The Hague. He tells the story of his new protest initiative—and of an old one.
February 12, 2025
On the evening of January 20th, while I was watching TV at home, I received a call from a Dutch friend, who supports my activism against the Chinese government. He informed me that Chinese Vice Premier Ding Xuexiang would be making a two-day state visit to the Netherlands on January 22nd and 23rd. He then sent me a related news article from a government website via WhatsApp. I immediately visited the website to review the details of Ding Xuexiang’s visit.
King Willem-Alexander of the Netherlands was scheduled to receive Ding Xuexiang at his palace in The Hague on the evening of Wednesday, January 22nd. On Thursday, January 23rd, Dutch Prime Minister Dick Schoof was to host Ding Xuexiang for a dinner reception at the government building. Their discussions would cover geopolitical developments, including the war in Ukraine, climate change, trade, healthcare, energy, and other issues.
With only two days left until Ding Xuexiang’s arrival in the Netherlands, I immediately contacted Tsering Jampa, the president of the Dutch Tibet Support Organization, and we began urgent preparations for a demonstration. Although we applied to the Dutch Prime Minister’s Office to hold a protest in front of the building where Ding Xuexiang was to be received, our request was denied. Instead, we were permitted to demonstrate at Church Square, 500 meters away, directly opposite the Chinese embassy in The Hague.
On the afternoon of January 23rd, from 2:00 PM to 6:00 PM, we held our demonstration against Ding Xuexiang’s visit to the Netherlands. Despite the cold, rainy, and windy weather, we stood firm. The demonstrators carried the blue flag of East Turkestan with the crescent moon and star, as well as the flags of Tibet, Southern Mongolia, Hong Kong, and Canton. We shouted slogans such as “Chinese government, stop the genocide in East Turkestan!”, “Independence for East Turkestan!”, “Independence for Tibet!”, and “Stop the Chinese government’s infiltration of the Netherlands!”
During the protest, we issued statements condemning the Chinese government’s human rights violations. I, Abdurehim Gheni, called on Dutch Prime Minister Dick Schoof to raise the case of my 19 missing family members during his meeting with Ding Xuexiang. I also warned against the political and moral failure of prioritizing trade over human rights in a democratic country like the Netherlands. I urged the Dutch government to take a stronger stance against China’s atrocities in East Turkestan.
The Dutch Parliament was the first in Europe to recognize China’s crimes in East Turkestan as “genocide and crimes against humanity” on February 25, 2021. Given this recognition, I argued that it was wrong for King Willem-Alexander and Prime Minister Dick Schoof to meet with Chinese leaders, as doing so would send the wrong message both to the world and to China.
Half an hour before the demonstration ended, angry protesters gathered near the government building. Then, Tibetan activists staged a short theatrical performance titled “The Confrontation Between Dick Schoof and Xi Jinping.” In the scene, a young Tibetan man, wearing a headscarf resembling Xi Jinping, shook hands with another young Tibetan wearing a Dick Schoof mask—his hands covered in blood. Three Tibetan women sat before them, crying and holding their children, who lay lifeless in pools of blood. The emotional performance deeply moved the protesters, bystanders, and even the police officers who were maintaining order.
Xi Jinping’s likeness in the performance was so realistic that, even though I knew it was just a mask, I couldn’t contain my rage—I punched and spat at that cursed figure’s ominous face. Though it was symbolic, this act expressed my deep anger against that character. The raw intensity of my anger electrified the protest, stirring excitement among demonstrators and passersby alike. For the first time in a long while, I felt a small sense of relief from my anguish.
Four years earlier, while protesting in front of the Chinese embassy in the Netherlands and demanding answers about my 19 missing family members, I hung Xi Jinping’s picture—the killer of Uyghurs and mastermind of the Uyghur genocide—next to the “Embassy of the People’s Republic of China in the Netherlands” sign on the embassy fence. Using a microphone, I shouted at the Chinese embassy: “Hey Xi Jinping, you executioner! Why do you kill millions of Uyghurs? Why do you commit genocide in East Turkestan? Come here, arrest me, and put me in a concentration camp—torture me too! I am here today to hold you accountable!”
As I struck Xi Jinping’s picture with a stick and spat on it, I vented my unbearable pain. At that exact moment, the Chinese Consul General’s car was waiting for the embassy gate to open. Without hesitation, I ran in front of the ambassador’s car and stood my ground. “Hey Chinese officials, why do you commit genocide in East Turkestan? Where are my 19 missing family members? Why can’t I talk to them on the phone? Answer me!”
I blocked the car, demanding answers. No one dared to step out. In my rage, I even tried to open the door to pull the ambassador out, but he quickly reversed and fled. When I attempted to enter the Chinese embassy while shouting my demands, security guards stopped me. Dutch police then arrived and arrested me, releasing me two hours later with a €1,000 fine.
Even during my brief detention, I felt no regret—only satisfaction. I had managed to create fear in Xi’s subordinates.
Sixteen years ago, on July 6, 2009—the second day of the Urumqi massacre—we protested in front of the Chinese embassy in the Netherlands to express our fury at the Chinese government. Enraged Uyghurs hurled stones at the embassy walls. I, too, threw a stone, and with a perfect strike, I knocked down the Chinese state emblem hanging above the entrance. At that moment, I felt an indescribable joy. Though I was among the Uyghurs detained by police for 24 hours, the punishment was worth it—I was elated. To this day, I have never forgotten that feeling.
It may seem absurd that I punched and spat at the image of Xi Jinping during the protest on January 23, 2025. No one physically attacks a statue or a picture. However, the sinister face of Xi Jinping reminded me of other notorious Chinese executioners—Sheng Shicai, Wang Zhen, and Mao Zedong. My boundless anger surged uncontrollably.
If the real Xi Jinping stood before me, I know I would explode with rage. I believe that those who, like me, have suffered under his tyranny understand this feeling all too well.
Source: bitterwinter.org
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