Waiting to be Arrested at Night is the winner of the 2024 Moore Prize for Human Rights Writing. The Christopher G. Moore Foundation brings you an interview with winning author Tahir Hamut Izgil and translator Joshua L. Freeman.

Many other recent books about the Uyghurs in China have focused heavily on mass detention, forced sterilisation and abortion, separation of children from their parents, the destruction of mosques etc, yet yours is a much more deeply personal story. Did you find while writing Waiting to be Arrested at Night that you had to restrain any bitterness you felt, and refrain from letting descriptions of violence and forced labour take over your personal story?

THI: While the tragic events in the Uyghur region are agonizing, I think it's still important to relate them as objectively as possible. This book relates things which I personally experienced and witnessed. I didn’t feel a need to avoid or, conversely, to emphasize any topics.

You write of the difficulty in writing poetry while under duress. Did you find it easier to write prose, even though it's not the medium you are known for?

THI: Writing isn’t particularly easy for me, regardless of the genre. For me, poetry is the most personal form of expression, whereas I wrote this book because I felt it needed to be written. In particular, because it was urgent to tell the world about what had happened in the Uyghur region since the mass internments began in 2017. I felt that this memoir was the best way for me to do so, so that was my focus for a while.

With the wars in Ukraine and Palestine, the plight of the Uyghurs is not on the front pages as frequently. What would you say as a reminder of the Uyghur's continued need for international focus?

THI: Of course, all kinds of things will continue happening in the world, and it’s not possible for what Uyghurs are going through to always be at the head of the agenda. That’s not a reasonable thing to expect. But following the internment of millions of Uyghurs in camps and prisons, the Uyghur issue has become well known internationally. Needless to say, as a Uyghur intellectual, I continue to do everything I can to ensure that Uyghurs’ needs and struggles remain a global priority. Numerous organizations have made a commitment to the Uyghur cause, and I believe they will continue their work.

Uyghur identity is also a question of freedom of religion – yet it seems that most Muslim majority countries are strangely silent when it comes to the persecution of the Uyghurs. Why do you think that is?

THI: Of course, as a Muslim people, we hope that Muslim countries will feel solidarity with Uyghurs and speak out for us. But due to China’s powerful economic and political influence on these states, they have not been outspoken on this issue, which is disappointing for us. There is still work for us to do in encouraging Muslim countries to speak out on our behalf.

There must be a sense of frustration in writing about a regime that censors anti-government writing. Has there been any word of your book reaching readers still in China?

THI: This book has been published in Chinese in Taiwan. After its publication in Taiwan, it was my hope that it would reach readers in mainland China and even my friends in prison. In the past, it was a common practice for books published in Taiwan but banned in China to nonetheless make it to the mainland in pirated editions. However, since Xi Jinping came to power, such possibilities seem to have diminished, and I have received no word of my book reaching mainland China.

Was there a conscious attempt to write for a foreign audience rather than people who are intimately familiar with the Uyghur plight?

THI: Yes, I think that will be clear to readers. My intention was to write a book that would be understandable to readers unfamiliar with the Uyghur community or with what we are going through. It is my hope that this book will help as many people as possible to learn about the Uyghur issue.

Now that you have been in the US for a while, does daily life get any easier?  Have you children found it easier or harder to adjust than you and your wife?

THI: We are definitely more accustomed to life in the US than when we first arrived. Since the US government accepted our applications for refugee status, we feel more at ease. Our children, of course, got used to life here much more easily than us. It makes us really happy to see how quickly they have adjusted.

Do any of your friends and colleagues now live in the same area as you do in the US?  Has that made transition any easier?

THI: We live in northern Virginia, in the largest Uyghur community in the US, among whom we have a number of close family friends. This collective is a deep source of comfort for us. It’s also been very important in enabling our children to preserve their culture and language. It is our hope that our son Tarim, who was born in the US, will grow up with Uyghur language, culture, and lifeways, and this community will play a big part in that.

Having experienced the emotional dilemma of the decision to leave, and what has since happened to your friends and associates, is there anything you you would have done differently?

THI: It was an extremely difficult decision for us to leave our homeland. It pains us constantly to know that our friends and family are suffering back there. Our sense of survivors’ guilt remains with us. Sometimes I wonder if it might not have been better for me to stay back there, even if I were imprisoned; at least I would be with them, and I would be free of this spiritual anguish. But we must all face reality, and I must think about the things I still need to do for my friends in my homeland, for my relatives there. I must continue speaking up for them and doing what I can for them—that is the most important thing I can do right now.

Did you find writing about what happened cathartic or painful - or perhaps both?

THI: It was both. In our homeland, we have no opportunity to openly express the injustice we face or the feelings it engenders in us, and in that sense, writing this book was indeed cathartic. At the same time, it was painful to write this memoir, especially given the psychological pressure of describing all of these events. Even though I’m happy that so many people are reading the book, I myself don’t dare to reread it. Every time a journalist asks me about the repression Uyghurs are facing, my feelings are paradoxical. On the one hand, I appreciate the opportunity to let more people know about it; on the other, it’s painful every time I relive it.

What do you think is needed for the international community to really do something beyond just paying lip service?

THI: The American government has taken a number of steps to confront China’s repression of the Uyghur community, of which the most effective has been the sanctioning of corporations involved in forced labor. It is my hope that more Western countries will find the resolve to adopt measures addressing the repression in the Uyghur region, and that economic interest will not become a shield for human rights abuses.

While the Chinese government is attempting to erase the Uyghur language and culture, translation of poetry and prose attempts to bring it to a wider audience. Do you find there is extra responsibility in translating, since it has now been deemed a political act?

JLF: When I began translating Uyghur poetry, my goal was simply to share with others this incredibly rich and vibrant literary world which I was then coming to know. A decade later, the Chinese state launched an unprecedented campaign against the Uyghur community, and many of the poets I translate disappeared into internment camps and prisons, along with most other prominent Uyghur poets and writers. The world should know Uyghur literature first and foremost because it’s a remarkable body of work; but also to understand what we all stand to lose if the Chinese state succeeds in erasing Uyghur culture and language.

Poetry is one of the more challenging subjects for translation. Were there any passages where it felt impossible to capture the emotion or poignancy of the original poem?

JLF: “Lost in Paris,” which is included in the memoir, is one of Tahir’s most remarkable poems; it’s also one of the most challenging to translate. The poem takes full advantage of the Uyghur language’s grammatical versatility to create a powerful sense of propulsion, and working to create a comparable effect in English meant I went through more drafts of this translation than I care to count. It’s for readers to judge whether it worked out in the end.

How did you and Tahir originally connect and start working together?

JLF: I had been deeply moved by Tahir’s poetry, and in fact his were some of the first poems I translated. Not long after, in early 2008, I had the chance to meet him in person, and in the years after we became close friends—part of a larger circle of friends in Ürümchi that Tahir depicts vividly in this memoir. It’s been a privilege translating Tahir’s work for the better part of two decades, and I look forward to continuing. 

Waiting to be Arrested at Night by Tahir Hamut Izgil; translated and introduced by Joshua L. Freeman

Waiting to be Arrested at Night is the author’s personal account of how he and his family were trapped in an unimaginable situation - one forced upon them and their fellow Uyghurs by their government. Izgil’s story is set inside Xinjiang, where daily life exists in a world of surveillance, repression and constant fear. His experiences focus a spotlight on a group whose suffering has often been overshadowed by political rhetoric and misinformation. As it charts China’s ongoing destruction of a community and a way of life, the book is both an urgent call for the world to awaken to a humanitarian catastrophe and a sobering look at the human cost of oppression.

Tahir Hamut Izgil is one of the foremost poets writing in the Uyghur language. He grew up in Kashgar, in the southwest of the Uyghur homeland. After attending college in Beijing, he returned to the Uyghur region and emerged as a prominent film director. He currently lives near Washington, D.C.  Joshua L. Freeman is a historian of twentieth-century China and a translator of Uyghur poetry. He is an assistant research fellow at the Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica, in Taiwan.