Former prisoners push Australia to confront 'hostage diplomacy' with strategic approach

Matthew Radalj was 8,000 kilometres from Perth when the cell door closed behind him, and he felt the weight of abandonment settle in. It was early 2020 in Beijing. He was running an online business selling hoodies and T-shirts when he was arrested trying to recover a stolen phone. Chinese officials charged him with robbery. He was sentenced to four years—though he would spend nearly five.

Radalj says he was tortured into confessing to a crime he did not commit. Once locked away, his only connection to the outside world was supposed to be the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Instead, he found himself largely alone. During his first ten months in detention, he met Australian embassy staff exactly once. COVID-19 lockdowns were cited as the reason, but the isolation was absolute. He had no soap, no toothpaste, no toilet paper, no underwear, no toothbrush. For ten months, he had none of these things. His family in Australia didn't even know he'd been arrested until almost a year had passed—and only then because he demanded a welfare check on his father.

Radalj's case is not an outlier. A new report released by the international NGO Safeguard Defenders documents the machinery of abuse in China's prison system. Drawing on Chinese publications and interviews with 59 former prisoners—half of them foreign nationals—the report details widespread violence, psychological torture, and conditions that breach both international law and China's own domestic statutes. Cells held up to 20 people in cramped quarters with inadequate sanitation. Physical violence from guards and inmates was routine. Family phone calls were capped at 14 minutes a month, usually split into two seven-minute calls, and had to be routed through embassies. Letters were censored and took up to two months to arrive. Prisoners worked up to 11 hours a day for little or no pay. They were forced to write "thought reports"—confessions and expressions of remorse—to earn merit points and qualify for sentence reductions. Those who refused lost privileges: tighter restrictions on family contact, lower spending limits at the prison commissary, no path to early release.

Radalj spent 190 days in solitary confinement, far beyond the 15-day maximum permitted under China's own Prison Law. When he emerged, he weighed 57 kilograms. He is 5 feet 9 inches tall. The Chinese embassy in Canberra dismissed the Safeguard Defenders report as "pure fabrication" and said it was unfamiliar with the details of his case. China has repeatedly rejected accusations of hostage diplomacy, insisting that all arrests and sentences involving foreign nationals are lawful judicial actions.

When Radalj was finally released in late 2024, after nearly five years, he filed a formal complaint with DFAT about how his case had been handled. Internal correspondence obtained through the Freedom of Information Act shows that ten days after his complaint reached the Australian embassy in Beijing, staff discussed responding that they found it had "no merit." Three months later, DFAT formally concluded that the consular assistance he received was consistent with the Consular Services Charter. The department declined to comment further, citing privacy obligations.

Radalj has since married his long-time girlfriend, honeymooned, and welcomed a child. He describes his first two years of freedom as filled with "amazing times." But he speaks publicly now because he does not want another Australian to endure what he endured. Kylie Moore-Gilbert, who spent 805 days imprisoned in Iran on false espionage charges, echoes his concern. She calls Radalj's case one of the "heartbreaking cases" that prompted her to advocate for reform.

Last month, the Australian government announced it would publish a framework for assessing cases of "wrongful detention," including those involving diplomatic leverage. Cases identified as wrongful would be referred to DFAT's complex case team for strategy development and advocacy. Affected families would be assigned a dedicated case manager. Moore-Gilbert welcomes the reforms but says they fall short. She is calling for a standalone office with a single person responsible for coordinating with international allies to discourage and punish countries that wrongfully detain or torture Australian citizens.

Currently, 60 Australians are imprisoned in China. The Australian government's travel advisory warns of arbitrary detention risks in Afghanistan, Burkina Faso, China, North Korea, Iran, Mali, Myanmar, Russia, Syria, and Venezuela. As China markets itself as an increasingly welcoming destination for Australian tourists with visa-free travel, the reality for those caught in its system remains one of arbitrary detention, fabricated charges, and the machinery of a prison system designed to break those within it.