Across parts of China, a quiet transformation has been taking place behind the country’s tightly controlled information environment.
Mosques are being closed.
Some are being demolished. Others are being merged with neighboring religious sites or converted to secular uses. In still other cases, the buildings remain standing, but their most recognizable Islamic architectural features — domes, crescents and minarets — are removed or redesigned in a distinctly Chinese architectural style.
The Chinese government describes its approach as part of a broader effort to manage religious affairs, prevent extremism and promote the “Sinicization” of religion.
Human rights organizations and independent researchers see something considerably more troubling: an attempt to reshape Islamic religious life so thoroughly that visible expressions of Muslim identity increasingly conform to the political and cultural expectations of the Chinese Communist Party.
The difference between those two interpretations is enormous.
And it is at the center of one of the most consequential religious-policy debates in modern China.
In 2023, Human Rights Watch reported that Chinese authorities were significantly reducing the number of mosques in Ningxia and Gansu under a policy it called “mosque consolidation.” These two provinces are home to some of China’s largest Muslim populations outside Xinjiang. According to HRW, government documents and satellite imagery indicated that authorities were closing, demolishing, merging or otherwise altering mosques.
The organization argued that the campaign was not simply about reducing redundant buildings.
It was part of a broader system of state control over religion.
That distinction is important.
China is not officially a country where Islam is illegal.
In fact, Islam is one of the five religions formally recognized by the Chinese state, alongside Buddhism, Catholicism, Protestantism and Taoism. Religious organizations, however, operate within a tightly regulated framework and are expected to work through state-controlled religious associations.
This means that the central issue is not simply whether Muslims are legally permitted to exist.
It is how much freedom Muslims have to practice, organize and express their religion independently of the state.
Under President Xi Jinping, that question has become increasingly important.
Xi has repeatedly promoted the concept of “Sinicization of religion” — the idea that religions practiced in China should adapt to Chinese society, culture and political realities.
The policy does not apply only to Muslims.
Christian communities, Tibetan Buddhists and other religious groups have also experienced increased state oversight.
But Islam has become one of the most visible targets of the campaign because of the government's concerns about separatism, terrorism, foreign influence and religious extremism, particularly in Xinjiang.
That distinction also helps explain why the experience of China's Muslim communities varies considerably.
The Uyghurs of Xinjiang have faced the most severe repression.
The Hui, a predominantly Muslim ethnic group found throughout China, have historically had considerably more room to practice Islam.
Yet in recent years, researchers have documented growing restrictions on Hui Muslim communities as well.
The mosque consolidation campaign in Ningxia and Gansu is one of the clearest examples.
Human Rights Watch reported that Chinese authorities have used a variety of methods: closing smaller mosques, merging communities, removing architectural features and, in some cases, demolishing buildings altogether.
The campaign has also affected the physical appearance of Islam.
That may sound superficial at first.
It is not.
For religious communities, architecture is part of identity.
A minaret is not merely a tower.
A dome is not merely a roof.
Arabic inscriptions, crescents, courtyards and other design elements can serve as visible markers of religious history and community belonging.
When those features disappear, the physical landscape changes with them.
One of the most striking examples occurred at the Grand Mosque of Shadian in Yunnan.
The mosque was one of China's most prominent examples of Arabic-inspired Islamic architecture. Its large green dome and minarets were highly recognizable symbols of the local Hui Muslim community.
In 2023 and 2024, those features were dramatically altered.
The dome was removed.
The minarets were shortened and redesigned.
Traditional Chinese-style architectural elements replaced features associated with the mosque's earlier Islamic design.
The Guardian reported that the changes were part of the wider campaign to “Sinicize” Islamic architecture, citing photographs, satellite imagery and witness accounts.
The symbolism was difficult to miss.
A building that had visually connected the community to the wider Islamic world was being transformed to look more traditionally Chinese.
To Chinese authorities, such a transformation can be presented as cultural integration.
To critics, it represents something closer to cultural erasure.
The Financial Times conducted one of the most extensive investigations into the phenomenon.
Using satellite imagery and other evidence, the newspaper examined more than 2,300 mosques with visible Islamic architectural features and reported that at least three-quarters had been modified or destroyed since 2018.
That does not mean every mosque in China is being destroyed.
Nor does it mean Muslims are universally prevented from praying.
The reality is more complicated.
Many mosques continue to operate.
Islam remains officially recognized.
And the Chinese government insists that lawful religious activity is protected.
But the physical transformation of religious sites is evidence of a much broader effort to determine what acceptable Islamic expression should look like.
That is the key issue.