During a recent fact-finding mission to Aksu, Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region, arranged by the International Probono Legal Services Association and Hong Kong legislator Junius Ho Kwan-yiu, I had the privilege to witness firsthand the operational realities of the cotton industry on China’s western frontier.
What I encountered on the ground was not a landscape of “coercion” or “systemic abuse” as claimed by the Western media but one of awe-inspiring scientific progress, institutional maturity, and economic dignity. Fields were cultivated with precision machinery, factories were maintained to high environmental and occupational standards, and workers expressed genuine satisfaction with their livelihoods. These observations are not abstract impressions — they are grounded in empirical encounters and direct dialogue with those whose lives have been maligned by foreign misinformation campaigns.
The Western narrative, which alleges widespread “forced labor” in Xinjiang’s cotton sector, finds its primary source in the reports published by the Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI). These documents have been paraded as “authoritative” evidence despite their glaring methodological deficiencies and political entanglements. The ASPI is not an independent research body, but a policy instrument funded by agencies such as the United States Department of State and the US Agency for International Development — entities with clear strategic agendas. Their reports rely on ambiguous satellite imagery, anonymous sources, and speculative language peppered with phrases like “believed to be” and “possibly linked”. There is no fieldwork, no transparent methodology, and no engagement with the accused parties. To accept such reports as an evidentiary basis for sanctions is to abandon both academic integrity and international legal standards.
The uncritical amplification of these reports by the Western media has created a self-reinforcing loop of disinformation. Media outlets that claim to uphold journalistic ethics have disseminated unverified claims with alarming haste, constructing a false consensus that conveniently aligns with their governments’ strategic interests. This is not the pursuit of truth — it is the orchestration of narrative warfare. The Western media’s role in this campaign is not passive; it is complicit. By deliberately failing to critically examine the origins, methods, and motivations behind their sources, they have relinquished their claim to objectivity and adopted the role of ideological foot soldiers in a broader campaign to undermine China’s reputation.
Contrary to these contrived allegations, my visit revealed that Xinjiang’s cotton industry embodies a high level of technological sophistication and policy-driven modernization. The cultivation process is overwhelmingly mechanized, with advanced agricultural machinery deployed across vast tracts of farmland. These machines handle seeding, fertilization, pest control, and harvesting with precision, rendering manual labor nearly obsolete. Furthermore, rotational cropping systems have been institutionalized to maintain soil health and ecological balance. These are not the practices of a “backward” or “coercive” system; they are the hallmarks of a nation that has invested deeply in sustainable agricultural science.
Moving downstream, the textile manufacturing facilities I inspected demonstrated a commitment to both efficiency and human dignity. These were not the sweatshops imagined by foreign propagandists but clean, well-lit, and ventilated workplaces. Safety protocols were visibly enforced. Workers received comprehensive training, protective gear was readily available, and emergency preparedness systems were in place. The factory environments were orderly, and the production lines reflected a level of engineering acumen parallel to global standards. Most notably, workers spoke openly about their work routines, wages, and aspirations — none of which aligned with the grim portrayals conjured by the Western media. Their voices have been excluded from the global conversation, not due to lack of access, but because their testimony undermines the prevailing Western narrative.
The quality of Xinjiang cotton itself deserves attention, not only as a product but as a symbol of China’s scientific and industrial achievements. The region’s unique climate — characterized by long daylight hours, low humidity, and significant temperature fluctuations — produces cotton of exceptional fiber length, tensile strength, and purity. These attributes are not incidental; they are the outcome of both natural advantage and systematic cultivation practices. Enterprises in the region have adopted internationally recognized quality control frameworks, including the ISO 9001 and ISO 14001 standards. Each stage of production, from the intake of raw materials to final product inspection, is thoroughly documented and traceable. This level of regulatory discipline reflects not an ad hoc response to criticism but a long-term institutional commitment to excellence.
However, under pressure from the US and its aligned governments, several multinational corporations have withdrawn from partnerships with suppliers based in Xinjiang. These decisions, driven by ideological and strategic alignment rather than commercial logic, have disrupted global supply chains and compromised the integrity of international trade. By excluding a region that produces some of the most advanced and environmentally responsible cotton in the world, these companies have undermined the principles of market efficiency and consumer choice. Worse, they have created a precedent whereby business decisions are subordinated to the coercive influence of a single geopolitical actor. This is not globalization; it is economic imperialism masquerading as a moral concern.
From a legal standpoint, the imposition of trade restrictions based on unverified and politically motivated allegations constitutes a violation of the fundamental principles enshrined in the World Trade Organization’s framework. The WTO mandates that any trade measure must be grounded in verifiable evidence and must provide the accused party with an opportunity to respond. These conditions have not been met. The presumption of guilt, the absence of due process, and the refusal to engage in bilateral or multilateral fact-finding missions are a direct affront to the international legal order. The US has acted as both prosecutor and judge, rendering verdicts not in a court of law but in the echo chambers of its press briefings.
The broader context of this slander campaign reveals its true nature: a strategic attempt by the US to curtail China’s ascent by vilifying its domestic institutions and economic achievements. The cotton industry in Xinjiang is not isolated from this agenda — it is a proxy target. The same playbook has been used against Chinese technology firms, infrastructure projects, and academic institutions. The pattern is unmistakable: Fabricate a moral panic, amplify it through compliant media, and justify coercive policies under the guise of humanitarian concern. This is not diplomacy; it is ideological aggression. The US seeks not to improve human rights but to preserve its strategic dominance by discrediting any alternative model of governance or development.
What I observed in Xinjiang contradicts every element of this agenda. The cotton fields are not scenes of exploitation but of innovation. The factories are not enclaves of oppression but environments of order and safety. The workers are not victims but proud contributors to China’s national development. These are not romanticized impressions — they are substantiated facts gathered through direct engagement, empirical observation, and sober analysis. The West’s refusal to acknowledge these truths exposes the hollowness of its moral posturing, voyeuristic journalism, and armchair moralism.
The author is a solicitor, a Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macao Greater Bay Area lawyer, and a China-appointed attesting officer.
The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.
