Opinion: Which Hostage-Taking Is More Barbaric—Maduro or the Entire Uyghur People?

As the world condemns the capture of a head of state, the mass detention of an entire ethnic group remains largely ignored.

by Shohret Hoshur

Jan 20, 2026

Is it more barbaric to take a president hostage, or to take an entire people hostage? And who, in fact, set the example for hostage-taking—Donald Trump, or Xi Jinping?

When Donald Trump captured Venezuela’s president, Nicolás Maduro, China’s Foreign Ministry swiftly condemned the operation as a violation of international law and Venezuela’s sovereignty, calling it a “hegemonic act” that undermines global norms. I was not surprised that many countries criticized the capture. What shocked me was China’s reaction—not because it condemned the act, but because of who was condemning it. Coming from Beijing, the statement felt less like a moral judgment and more like theater.

The uproar over Maduro’s capture was loud and immediate. In the United States and around the world, commentators warned that international law had been breached. As a member of a people who are themselves being held hostage, I experienced conflicting emotions. I felt joy that the world still possessed a sense of justice—at least in some cases. But I also felt sorrow, because that sense of justice appears selective. It works sometimes, for some people, and fails utterly for others. When it comes to us, it often becomes invisible.

Ironically, China stood among the moral lecturers. Its Foreign Ministry condemned the capture as a “hegemonic act undermining global norms.” For those of us who know what China has done to the Uyghur people, this reaction was not just hypocritical—it was grotesque.

I stopped and asked myself: Is taking one president hostage more savage than taking an entire people hostage? Which act violates international law more profoundly? To answer this, I compared the two forms of hostage-taking.

To capture Maduro, the Trump administration deployed a limited number of personnel by air, land, and sea. The operation lasted two hours and twenty-eight minutes. China, by contrast, mobilized tens of thousands of police officers and hundreds of thousands of government cadres to detain more than three million Uyghurs.

Trump’s soldiers arrived at the gates of a presidential palace. Chinese police jumped over courtyard walls in the middle of the night, broke into homes, smashed doors, and deliberately terrorized families by entering without warning.

Trump’s forces stormed the palace of a president protected by soldiers and security forces. Chinese armed police stormed the homes of defenseless civilians—men and women, and the elderly—whose only protection might have been a dog in the yard. Maduro was bound and taken away by helicopter. Uyghurs were often hooded; when hoods were unavailable, officers pulled their own coats over detainees’ heads and dragged them away.

Maduro’s detention was followed almost immediately by legal procedures. Within three days of being brought to New York, he was handed over to a court. He was allowed to meet his son within a week. The world knew why he was arrested, and so did he.

For the Uyghurs sent to camps, no legal procedures existed at all. There were no warrants, no charges, no trials. Families were left in the dark. Detainees themselves often did not know why they had been taken—except that they were Uyghur, the owners of the resource-rich region known historically as East Turkestan.

Among my own relatives, eleven people disappeared into this system. For nine years, I have not been able to reach a single one.

After arresting Maduro, the Trump administration openly acknowledged its interest in Venezuelan oil, arguing that both countries could benefit. China, meanwhile, has quietly exploited the oil, gas, and natural resources of East Turkestan—one of its most important energy bases—while insisting that it is merely “supporting Xinjiang economically.” It never explains where the profits go.

Maduro will likely receive a verdict, and whatever it is, it will be public. In contrast, information from the Uyghur camps has emerged only in fragments. We have learned that senior intellectuals and officials—such as former regional education director Sattar Sawut and university president Tashpolat Teyip—received death or life sentences. Writers and poets were forced to confess and remain imprisoned. Ordinary Uyghurs routinely received sentences exceeding fifteen years. After nearly a decade, releases are rare.

This hostage-taking did not begin recently. In 1949, prominent Uyghur leaders—including Ehmetjan Qasimi and his colleagues—were deceived into attending China’s Political Consultative Conference and died en route to Beijing in the so-called “Flight Incident.” Their successor, Seypidin Aziz, was taken to Beijing and “promoted,” only to live under lifelong house arrest. He later described his captivity in a single haunting line: “A golden cage is still a cage; an iron cage is still a cage.”

No civilian injuries were reported during Maduro’s capture, aside from the elimination of opposing military personnel. In the so-called “Vocational Training Centers,” deaths have occurred, illnesses have spread, and no full accounting has ever been released. A people is being destroyed without bombs or bullets, without headlines.

Trump’s action may well have been wrong. But is it the most barbaric act? Is capturing one president more savage than imprisoning an entire people? Isn’t international law supposed to protect peoples, not merely heads of state?

If global outrage is reserved for presidents while millions of civilians can be taken hostage in silence, then the problem is not only political hypocrisy—it is the hollowing out of international law itself.

Shohret Hoshur (who until 2025 used the pseudonym of Kok Bayraq) is a political émigré from East Turkestan (Ch. Xinjiang) and an opponent of the Sinicization of his homeland. His unique thoughts and feelings published in Taipei Times and Global Voice comment on the ongoing Uyghur genocide.He is also editorial advisor to newly found Uyghur language based media Uyghur Post.