“Did I Fear Returning to China? Not at All”: Ai Weiwei Discusses AI, Western Censorship, and His Journey Home

Ai Weiwei is reflecting on his decision-making process before embarking on his first trip back to China in over a decade. Renowned globally as a prominent critic of the Chinese Communist regime, Ai found himself grappling with intense emotions while calculating the risks associated with his return.

As he prepared to board a flight with his son, Lao—who has never met Ai’s elderly mother—he recalled his time in detention, specifically the moment when his captors ominously suggested he would remain imprisoned for the next 13 years on false charges: “They said, ‘When you come out, your son won’t recognise you.’ That was incredibly heavy and truly the only moment that really moved me deeply.”

He spent several months in captivity, and now, with Lao at 17, Ai feels less need to guide him. So, he booked their flights, taking a significant risk. “When people asked, ‘Are you scared?’ I said, ‘No, why should I be scared? I’m Chinese. I possess a Chinese passport. I’m entitled to go back and see my mother. So I went back,’” he stated confidently.

Welcome to the world of Ai Weiwei. Unlike most individuals, returning home for him entails evaluating the potential risks of never seeing loved ones again. This is the harsh reality for a 68-year-old artist and activist whose life has been shaped by authoritarianism and the continuous battle against it.

His trip to China proved uneventful in the end. He was interviewed at the airport but released a couple of hours later, re-entering a country that overwhelmed him with familiar sights, sounds, and smells. Ai described the experience as akin to “a phone call suddenly reconnecting.” He poetically described it as “like a piece of jade that is broken but can be put back together since it fits perfectly. Everything is so familiar: the light, the temperature, the people.”

Meeting me at the London offices of his publisher, Ai discussed his new book, On Censorship, a 90-page analysis of state control, AI, and the pervasive nature of surveillance. His background positions him well to delve into these themes. Born in Beijing in 1957, he faced early life in labor camps after his father, poet Ai Qing, was exiled. In 2011, he underwent an 81-day imprisonment, trapped in a 170 sq ft windowless cell, an experience that stemmed from his activism. Upon his release, he was closely monitored and harassed by the Chinese authorities until they returned his passport in 2015, allowing him to begin anew in exile. Presently, he splits his time between Lisbon, Berlin, and Cambridge.

The essence of Ai’s artwork mirrors the dramatic tone of his life story. Sixteen years ago, 1,600 Chinese artisans created 100 million hand-painted porcelain seeds scattered across Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall in London. He adorned Berlin’s Konzerthaus with 14,000 fluorescent orange lifejackets previously worn by refugees and produced a film dedicated to the children lost in the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, directly challenging the state’s narrative and earning the title of “the most dangerous person in China.”

His forthcoming project at Aviva Studios in Manchester incorporates 30 tonnes of buttons that were sourced from a London factory facing closure, smuggled into China, and transformed into large hanging art pieces by local artisans.

His book poses a startling perspective, arguing that individuals in the West often misunderstand censorship. He describes it as “the exercise of power over intellectual space,” serving as “an indispensable tool for mental enslavement and a fundamental source of political corruption.” Censorship is not merely a concern restricted to authoritarian regimes; Ai cautions that liberal societies erroneously believe censorship is infrequent, stating, “but people forget that even in bright, sunny conditions, shadows will always linger.”

Some of Ai’s arguments are thought-provoking. For instance, he discusses a selfie he took with Alice Weidel, a leader of the far-right AfD party, in 2018. AI misinterpreted this authentic image, deeming it fake due to the contrast in their political beliefs. At that time, Weidel, whose grandfather was a Nazi, was viewed as a moderate within her party, but her stance has since hardened, leading her to advocate for “large-scale repatriations” of migrants.

When I asked if he regretted the selfie, Ai mentioned that while he disagreed with some of Weidel’s views, he found her to be “more rational than other political opponents in Germany.” He added, “If Germany’s policies change to limit immigration, there’s nothing inherently wrong with that.” His perspective may seem surprising to those familiar with German politics, where the AfD is often considered the party closest to Trump’s ideology. His support for someone from the far-right might raise a few eyebrows.

Ai’s perspective on China has undergone significant change. He recently remarked that the nation is “in an upward phase,” highlighting technological advancements and growing personal freedoms. In contrast, he believes the West struggles with sustaining its own coherence, claiming it has lost its “ethical authority” and has “descended into something barely recognisable.”

While a glance at the U.S., particularly during ICE raids, supports his perspective, he equally critiques Europe. Has the most notable critic of the Chinese regime now shifted closer to its ideological stance? Ai insists, “My relationship with China began before I could define myself. I grew up in this black hole with my father,” showing a desolate location in north-west China on his iPhone.

Not exactly angry, Ai felt the need to clarify that any impressions of him softening toward the Chinese government strike a nerve. “I retain my Chinese passport. My mother remains Chinese. That’s my sole connection to China,” he stated. “I’m not nostalgic. I hold no patriotic feelings.” Regarding the critique that the West also engages in censorship, Ai commented on his experiences in the UK: “I cannot elaborate, but I feel the same kind of surveillance, the same kind of censorship in the West.”

When pressed for specific examples, Ai recounted an episode involving the Royal Academy in London, which hosted a seminal exhibition in 2015 and awarded him honorary membership in 2011, following his detention in China. In November 2023, however, a planned exhibition of new works at the Lisson Gallery was abruptly cancelled after he tweeted a message perceived as antisemitic. “The sense of guilt around the persecution of the Jewish people has at times been redirected towards the Arab world,” he stated before deleting the tweet, which led to the cancellation of his show.

Following this incident, a vote was held at the Royal Academy regarding his membership due to the controversy surrounding the post. “My intention was never antisemitic. Many of my closest friends are Jewish,” Ai explained. “I have tweeted millions of times, yet why should one tweet create such a storm? They said an Academicians’ vote was the procedure.”

Fortunately, Ai received the support of his peers, winning the vote in favor of his continued membership. Subsequently, he was urged to pen an article on freedom of speech for the Royal Academy’s magazine, where he emphasized that “speaking the truth and holding onto one’s perspective can be perilous, often resulting in unpublished books, closed exhibitions, and cancelled concerts.”

However, after he submitted the article, he faced silence. Eventually, the Royal Academy informed him they lacked space to accommodate the piece. This incident underscores the type of censorship Ai perceives in the West, which he argues tends to be “more hidden, more deceptive and more corrosive” than in authoritarian regimes. “I have numerous cases like this,” he notes, referring to similar experiences in both Britain and Germany.

In response, the Royal Academy disputes Ai’s version, asserting that the decision to cancel the piece preceded its submission. They emphasized, “Plurality of voices, tolerance, and free thought are core values we uphold and protect.”

As I probed further about Ai’s views on the world in 2026, his book portrays a challenging landscape for those who champion self-expression and freedom of speech. “Presently we inhabit a complex world, where reality resembles a shattered mirror,” he remarked. “It reflects actual circumstances, yet the reflection often mirrors a broken reality.”

Did his trip to China reignite hope in humanity? He paused before responding. “If we were living in the Tang dynasty, individuals like me would return and compose exquisite poetry,” he smiled. “Yet today, I simply take a few selfies.”