Chinese exiles living in fear in Thailand

Chinese exiles living in fear in Thailand

Dissidents who have sought sanctuary in the Kingdom after fleeing the mainland are now at risk of forced repatriation from a once safe haven.

No escape: Uighur refugees deported from Thailand are taken off a plane by Chinese police and security officials at an unidentified location in China in July last year.
No escape: Uighur refugees deported from Thailand are taken off a plane by Chinese police and security officials at an unidentified location in China in July last year.

Alone, without a passport and desperate to evade authorities, Xi* slipped across the border to Vietnam on foot. With all his belongings crammed into a small backpack, he traversed hundreds of kilometres of dense, mountainous jungle to reach Hanoi. But even then the democracy activist knew he wasn’t safe from the reach of the Chinese government.

Xi continued walking south, sneaking into Cambodia, where he turned his sights westward. Finally, in late 2011, after more than three months of arduous travel, he reached Bangkok.

“Thailand was a free and democratic country, not like Vietnam and Cambodia. So I felt I would be safe here,” Xi said.

And for much of the next four and a half years, he was, managing to live a relatively normal life in Bangkok alongside dozens of other exiled Chinese dissidents, even marking the anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre without fear of arrest. But that all changed late last year. “Now,” Xi said, “we are afraid.”

TAKEN AWAY

The Chinese exile community living in Thailand has grown steadily over the past decade or so. While it is impossible to know exactly how many are here, estimates range from a few dozen to well over 100; Xi believes the higher estimates are more accurate.

For dissidents fleeing China, Thailand has long been viewed as a safe haven. With well-established routes into the country, the journey here from China is relatively easy, even without proper documentation. They slip quietly across porous borders to Myanmar, Laos or Vietnam and then travel on to Bangkok where established networks of exiles and NGOs can help them lay low.

Xi says the strong UN presence in Bangkok also makes the city attractive, as there is support available to protect exiles and help them to eventually resettle in the West, further from the reach of Chinese agents.

But that process often takes years.

While they wait, these exiles have mostly been left alone by Thai police. Chinese make up only a tiny fraction of Thailand’s total urban refugee population, which Human Rights Watch estimates numbers as high as 10,000.

But on Oct 28 last year, the shroud of safety was removed. Thai police detained veteran Chinese dissidents Jiang Yefei and Dong Guangping in Bangkok and charged them with entering the country illegally.

The men were later taken from an immigration prison by Chinese agents and deported in the middle of the night, despite having been granted asylum in a frenzied rescue effort by the Canadian government.

If that placed exiles on edge, the disappearance of Gui Minhai triggered the beginnings of panic. The 51-year-old Hong Kong publisher, who held dual Swedish citizenship, was snatched from his Pattaya condo in October by what were believed to be Chinese government agents.

He reappeared last month making a televised “confession” on state broadcaster CCTV.

Less than a week before that television appearance, journalist Li Xin, a former government informant who fled China last year, went missing while taking a train between Bangkok and Nong Khai. Last week, it was confirmed he is being held in a Chinese prison.

ROUGH LANDING

Zhang* arrived less than a month before the abductions began, and says his life in Thailand so far has been nothing like what he had hoped.

Held: CCTV in Beijing shows Gui Minhai, a Swedish national and co-owner of publisher Mighty Current in Hong Kong, in custody.

“I didn’t know much about Thailand [before I arrived],” he said. “I couldn’t contact anyone here because I was afraid that the communication would be monitored.”

Spectrum met Zhang last week in a small but crowded cafe in downtown Bangkok, dressed in a dark blue bucket hat and large, reflective sunglasses which obscured much of his face. He cast furtive glances around each time a customer entered or left.

He says he is having difficulty finding a place to live; apartment managers want a copy of his passport, but his visa is already expired and he is afraid of his identity being recorded in any formal documents. He is pondering a move to the countryside, away from prying eyes.

Zhang flew to Bangkok in mid-September from Hanoi, where he had arrived by bus from China. “I couldn’t tell anyone about my plans [before leaving China]. But when I was in Hanoi, I contacted [Xi]. He told me, ‘Just fly to Bangkok. Don’t worry about anything. You’re safe here.’

“But since I arrived, I have always worried about my safety. In the first three months, many things happened that made me very worried.

“I think the secret police will come to kidnap me [and take me] out.”

‘I MUST GET OUT’

The 48 year old has reason to fear what will happen if he is returned. Zhang worked for decades as a teacher before fleeing China, but filled his spare time writing poetry and articles attacking the government, police and state education system, as well as others in support of pro-democracy movements in Hong Kong and on the mainland.

Because of his writing, Zhang had his passport confiscated by the government for much of his adult life in China.

“They wouldn’t let me go out for international meetings. They wouldn’t let me out at all,” he said. “They thought that if I went out, that maybe I would be a danger to national security.”

In 2004, he said, he was kidnapped by authorities at midnight “because I had applied for a visa to America”, where he had been invited on a scholarship to study at a New York teachers college.

“They took me to a place, just like a farm, and I was locked away in a room. They did not let me sleep. They made me talk about my articles, and threatened to throw me in jail if I didn’t tell the truth. I was there for 15-20 days — I don’t know exactly how long. It was horrible. I was very afraid,” Zhang said.

The police harassment continued for the next decade, as Zhang found himself and his family continually under surveillance.

“It got to the point for me where I thought it was dangerous. I thought, ‘I must get out,’ ” he said. “Around that time, a friend of mine told me, ‘If you go to a police station and tell them your passport was stolen, the local police station will give you a new passport.’ And they did. And so I thought, ‘I must go now.’ ”

Zhang carries in his backpack an informal protection letter from the UNHCR which explains that he is undergoing a review of his refugee status application. He handles it delicately, but it is already showing signs of wear.

The letter stresses that he should, “in particular, be protected from forcible return”.

Zhang’s interview with the UNHCR is not scheduled until the middle of 2018. Until that time, he must remain in Thailand, without a visa and living in constant fear that he will be discovered by Chinese authorities.

“I just have to stay here and wait,” he said.

Xi carries a similar protection letter, although his expired nearly two years ago and is beginning to fall apart at its grimy, tattered creases. A second piece of paper from the UNHCR contains just five lines of writing; it tells him his refugee application has been rejected.

LIVING IN FEAR

Both Xi and Zhang spoke to Spectrum slowly and in stunted English. A translator was initially going to be present — a recent arrival from China — but it was later decided they couldn’t be trusted.

Whisked away: Chinese journalist Li Xin, who went missing while taking a train from Bangkok to the north.

Zhang said the new arrival had been following him and asking a lot of questions. “I have been avoiding meeting with that person,” he said.

Initially both men talked openly about their families, but later grew reluctant and asked for specific information not to be published. They are concerned that authorities in China may use the information to go after family members in an effort to force the men to return home.

“I don’t know the future, and I don’t want them to suffer,” Zhang said.

Zhang said he has met about 20 Chinese exiles during his time in Thailand, mostly at the beginning of his stay. Now, he keeps mainly to himself.

“At first I just believed anyone who is a Chinese refugee. But now I have to stay alone. I don’t believe anybody,” he said. “Anyone could be an agent.”

Still, he suggests trying to hide completely would be futile; Beijing’s surveillance apparatus is simply too powerful. “If the CPP [Chinese Communist Party] wants to take you back, you will be gone in a minute,” he said.

Xi, who has been here much longer and holds deeper ties with the Chinese dissident community, says the band of exiles in Thailand has fractured as paranoia and mistrust take hold — a result he believes is part of a deliberate tactic by Beijing.

“The unity between the Chinese is affected, because the CCP wants the Chinese refugees to not trust each other. The CCP plans to destroy the trust among us,” he said.

“They have made all of us scared,” Zhang added.

TIGHTENING THE SKYNET

Authorities in China and Thailand have so far shied away from talking openly about what appears to be a deliberate effort to fracture dissident networks here, but say they are operating within the law.

Zhang is not convinced. “I think the Chinese government is the devil. It is the worst government in the world. It is not friendly to its people,” he said.

It is not only Thailand that is being targeted — in March last year, two Chinese fugitives were arrested in Laos. In October, Bao Zhuoxuan, the 16-year-old son of a Chinese dissident, was abducted from a guesthouse in Myanmar. Both were taken back to China.

But a time when the ailing Thai economy is growing increasingly dependent on Chinese investment, Bangkok is not in a position to resist pressure from Beijing — a fact seen most prominently in the deportation last July of about 100 ethnic Uighurs back to China, a move labelled a “flagrant violation of international law” by the UNHCR.

The Chinese government has been expanding its efforts to pursue its fugitive citizens abroad for more than a year: mostly officials accused of corruption, but also political dissidents and ethnic minority groups.

More than 850 fugitives returned to China last year to face corruption charges, many of them as part of Beijing’s Operation Fox Hunt campaign. That effort has been combined with Skynet, the government’s latest global effort to track down fugitives overseas and return them.

“Now in Thailand it is very dangerous. The CCP is very rich, and many Chinese people are coming to Thailand to travel, so the Thai and Chinese governments are close friends. The CCP is everywhere,” said Xi. “Five years ago, there was no danger.”

FIGHTING ON

With his UN refugee application rejected, Xi’s future looks condemned to uncertainty.

“Two years ago, the UN closed my [refugee application] case. So for two years I’ve had no help, no support,” Xi said.

The 40 year old used to work as a musician in China and gave little thought to politics. But he says his “mind was opened” by the melamine baby formula scandal of 2008, in which tainted milk caused the deaths of at least six infants and hospitalised tens of thousands. “Because of the milk, my life broke. My mind changed,” he said.

“I didn’t need music any more, because I knew my country has big problems. So I changed to become an anti-CCP [activist].”

While unable to secure work legally in Thailand, Xi is able to earn a small amount of money writing articles for publication abroad which he hopes will “wake up many people in China”.

He says the end goal of toppling the Communist Party is more important than his own safety. “The China government want us to feel fear. But it’s not useful to fear the CCP.”

Still, for the time being Xi’s daily life has been reduced mostly to a routine of tedium, and he says he is itching to return to China and take a more active role in opposing the government.

“My future choice is that I want to go back to China — but when there is no Communist Party. Maybe there is a Communist Party, but we have power. I want to fight. Many people want to fight the communist party,” he said.

“Now, in Thailand, we just sleep.”

Zhang is slowly adapting to his new life, but is pained by his inability to communicate with family members back in China, knowing there is a strong chance any communication will be monitored and could give away his whereabouts.

“I hope we will find safety. But in Thailand it is very dangerous for us. I always worry about our safety,” he said.

“I think the UN should take care of my safety, and speed up the process to interview. I want to leave Thailand as soon as possible.”

Zhang still has some of the savings he was able to bring with him from China, but he’s also earning money for his writing and is receiving some financial assistance from NGOs.

Despite the danger, he remains focused on his work.

“I read a lot of books and write. I have a lot of work to do. I want to write a long poem, more than 1,000 lines. I will finish this poem before June 1. It will remember the 27 years since Tiananmen Square,” he said.

“At first, I didn’t write a lot. But now I think everybody has his fate,” said Zhang. “As for me, my fate is to write, to write the truth, and to tell everybody the truth. I should not stop writing just because in Thailand I am afraid.”


* Names have been changed to ensure safety.

Gone: Jiang Yefei, left, and Dong Guangping after being forcibly repatriated to China. They were arrested by Thai authorities, charged with illegal entry to the country, then handed to Chinese agents.

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