Burma

A Muslim woman, Win Win Sein, has been charged with “religious defamation”, after she accidentally knocked over the alms bowl of a Buddhist monk (AFP)

France
The video for “College Boy” by rock band Indochine has been banned from TV for its portrayal of bullying and the crucifiction and shooting of a schoolboy (Huffington Post France)

(Warning: video is graphic)

Turkmenistan
Government officials searched phones and cameras of spectators at a horse racing event in an attempt to suppress footage of President Kurbanguly Berdymukhamedov falling off his horse at the end of a race he “won” (The Times £)

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Thangyat troupes, which can be up to 70 people strong, compete for cash prizes in heats leading up to the festival. The finalists perform on the main stage and the winner is announced on New Year’s Day. This year Sky Net, a new independent TV company, has sponsored the Thangyat competition and will broadcast it nationwide.

— The first day of this year’s Thingyan Water Festival and Myanmar new year – Thet Htoo / Demotix

Sky Net required all participating teams to submit their scripts or videos of their work so they could vet the material. Index met members of one troupe that had been banned from  taking part.

The performers we met from the banned troupe believed Sky Net was more sensitive to political satire than the government, and were shocked and angry at being excluded. They thought that they had been banned for the generally political nature of their performance, rather than because they ventured into particular no-go zones. The troupe is going ahead with their performance anyway but their shows will not be broadcast; they are making their own documentary instead.

In Mandalay pre-censorship remains in the hands of city authorities and when I was there earlier in the week the first ever all-woman Thangyat ensemble was waiting to hear back from the censors. The women are teachers and students from a college in the city who have formed a group to preserve Burmese traditions — in particular traditional dress for women.

I was lucky enough to see an early rehearsal of this group, which took place in a monastery in a strange wilderness district of the city where huge, gated mansions mainly built for the Chinese buyers, are springing up around the monastery compound. The women, accompanied for the rehearsal by two percussionists, were working in an ornate communal building without walls and very young monks crowded in to hear the women rehearse.

Their performance is a passionate litany of biting satire that highlights the threats to Burmese culture, traditional life-style, and environment from business interests, with Chinese influence particularly targeted. The contentious Letpadaung Copper Mine, deforestation and the suspended Myetsone damn project were all targets. I heard that they are determined to perform their show as it is, whatever the censors say.

That Thangyat will be part of the celebrations again after 25 years is a sign of the times — and reveals the opening up of space for freedom of expression in Burma. But the fact that the comeback is being so closely scrutinised by both political and corporate interests illustrates the power of Thangyat to hit where it hurts.

As government pre-censorship is to some extent loosening its grip on arts and entertainment in Burma, as it appears to be, it is interesting to see corporate censorship stepping comfortably into its shoes. And as corporate censorship is a global phenomenon, it is something that artists all over the world, not just here in Burma, are increasingly concerned about.

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The programme was another in the series of firsts as the space for expression in Burma opens up.

Of course, this freedom is still a work in progress. The conference had a visit from an official who asked politely how things were going, and Index was told there were a couple of undercover government agents present, who kept an eye on who was saying what.

Some of the most respected artists in the country spoke, including film-maker Min Thin Ko Ko Kyi — who produced the Art of Freedom Film Festival last year with Zarganar and Aung San Suu Kyi — poet Zeyar Lin, who represented Myanmar in Poetry Parnassus as part of the Cultural Olympiad in London, and performance artists Moe Satt, Ma Ei and Aye Ko.

Zarganar, comedian, film-maker and partner of the symposium gave the opening and closing speeches;  U Win Tin, patron of the National League for Democracy, and Min Ko Naing, a leading voice in the Generation 88 group, gave the key note speeches on the first and second days respectively.

One of the key questions the symposium asked was how the reforms had affected artists who had developed a nuanced and subtle vocabulary to circumvent censorship.  For some it is difficult to find their bearings; several poets admitted it would take time, maybe two years, to make work under such different conditions.

One speaker claimed that poets were being criticised for sounding more like journalists than poets, that the subtlety of their voice had been lost. Another said that he did not want to publish his poems that had been banned in the past because they would no longer be of the moment. Another artist, who had created hundreds of artworks in prison, said that he felt his most free when he was behind bars.

Some of the younger artists Index spoke to felt very differently about the influence of new reforms.  They welcomed the openness, the free exchange of ideas, particularly online.

A young performance artist said that her art form was now considered “sexy” and she had plenty of invitations to perform so opening up her work to new audiences.   An established poet said that poets have to be more accountable now for what they write.  Previously, when all work had to be passed by the censors, the decision about what was published was completely out of the writer’s hands.

As the first symposium of its kind in the country it was necessarily experimental and as much as anything about finding a Burmese way to have a conversation about artistic freedom in public.

Index is producing a short documentary which will be translated into English. An English language podcast is also in production.

Julia Farrington is head of arts at Index on Censorship

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Watching the comics performing so freely on stage, it was extraordinary to think this would have been impossible only two years ago, when Zarganar was facing the very real possibility of spending the rest of his life in prison. His comeback was full-on and uncompromising.

The event took place against the backdrop of heightened tensions following violent clashes from between Buddhists and Muslims in Middle Burma that left 40 dead and at least 8,000 displaced. Tensions spread to Rangoon, and eventually Burmese authorities issued a ban on public gatherings and a partial curfew in three townships surrounding Rangoon.

I was in the offices of one of the many new journals that have started up since the abolition of pre-censorship for print media when we received news of the move. Some of the journalists and activists present were relieved, having felt unrest in the city, and one of the paper’s owners said that his staff who live in areas with high Muslim populations were afraid to go home. Some were even changing the locks on their doors.

Human Rights Watch has called upon Burmese authorities to help end violence against the country’s minority Muslims, and the United Nations has warned that the violence will only endanger Burma’s new wave of reforms.

On 1 April, private dailies returned to Burma once more; but on the same day, members of the newly independent media were not invited to cover the visit of the Singaporean president.

Artist Htein Lin summarised what it is like to be in Burma at such a crucial time, saying, “This is Burma: unstable one day, stable the next.”

Julia Farrington (Head of Arts, Index on Censorship) and artist Htein Lin are in Burma to deliver a symposium on artistic freedom of expression with Zarganar and his new company HOME (House of Media and Entertainment)

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Index on Censorship spoke to journalists and proprietors in Burma during a recent mission to the country in March. The return of independent daily newspapers has not been without incident. The government refused to grant licenses for daily publication to a number of publications including the Eleven Media Group, apparently because their application lacked an official revenue stamp valued at 100 kyats ($0.12). This decision was overturned in March and the group will launch its daily newspaper “The Daily Eleven” symbolically on World Press Freedom Day on May 3 according to AP.

Previously news was published in weekly journals that reviewed news and politics and had to submit all their proofs to the Press Scrutiny and Registration Division (PSRD) prior to publication (hence weekly publication). According to state journal the New Light of Myanmar, the termination of the PSRD was signed off at the cabinet meeting of 24 January 2013. Though ominously, the report claimed a new “Copyrights and Registration Division” would be formed under the Information and Public Relations Department.

Index on Censorship views the licensing of newspapers as an unwarranted restriction on freedom of the media. The registration process for daily newspapers in Burma has been particularly restrictive with the application requiring a code of practice, a code of ethics and a code of conduct for the publication — even though the Press Council is working on a series of ethical codes for journalists as part of its on-going negotiations to draft a more proportionate press law.

One editor told Index he had applied for a press license on 21 February and had not yet heard of the result by 13 March. The application was over 80 pages in total and the local authorities stated the application needed to be in both Burmese and English. Journalists told Index several questions on the application for a daily newspaper license concerned the previous political activities of the applicant, which raised concerns that political considerations will be taken into account when awarding the limited number of licenses proposed.

Further advances in media freedom are expected in the coming months, with foreign journalists to be given working visas from mid-April (rather than taking the risk of a tourist visa as is the norm now) and the BBC hoping to broadcast its global news channel in Burma later this year. Reporters Without Borders has moved Burma’s ranking in its Press Freedom Index up 18 places to 151 out of 179 countries.

Yet, old habits die hard. On the first day of new daily newspapers, the government kept the independent media at arm’s length from an official state visit by the President of Singapore Tony Tan Keng Yam with only the official state media allowed into the press conference surrounding the trip. A forthcoming Index report into the state of freedom of expression in Burma will examine these trends in further detail.

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The fight for freedom begins with freedom of speech, says Burma’s pro-democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi. This is one of a series of manifestos demanding a more outspoken world in the 40th anniversary issue of Index on Censorship

The gift of speech is the most effective instrument for human communication. The ability to communicate enables us to establish links across time and space, to learn to understand different civilisations and cultures, to extend knowledge both vertically and horizontally, to promote the arts and sciences. It also helps to bridge gaps in understanding between peoples and nations, to put an end to old enmities, to achieve detente, to cultivate new fellowships.

Speech allows human beings to articulate their thoughts and emotions. Words allow us to express our feelings, to record our experiences, to realise our ideas, to push outwards the frontiers of intellectual exploration. Words can move hearts, words can change perceptions, words can set nations and peoples in powerful motion. Words are an essential part of the expression of our humanness. To shackle freedom of speech and expression is to cripple the basic right to realise our full potential.

Can freedom of speech be abused? Since historical times, it has been recognised that words can hurt as well as heal, that we have a responsibility to use our verbal skills in the right way. What is the “right” way? The Ten Commandments include an injunction against bearing false witness.

Misusing the gift of speech to deceive or harm others is generally seen as unacceptable. Buddhism teaches that there are four verbal acts that constitute “tainted failure in living”: uttering deliberate lies for one’s own sake, for the sake of others or for some material advantage; uttering words that cause dissension, that is, creating discord among those united and inciting still more those who are in discord; speaking harshly and abusively, causing anger and distraction of mind in others; indulging in talk that is inadvisable, unrestrained and harmful.

Modern laws reflect the preoccupations of our ancients. Perjury, slander and libel, incitement to communal hatred, incitement to violence, all these are indictable offences in many countries today. The recognition of the negative consequences of misusing our gift of speech has not however been matched by an awareness of the detrimental effects of stifling free speech.

It is most generally in societies where the plinth of power is narrow that freedom of speech is perceived as a threat to the existing order. When speaking out against existing wrongs and injustices is disallowed, society is deprived of a vital impetus towards positive change and renewal. Censorship laws that ostensibly protect society from iniquitous influences generally achieve little that is positive. The most usual result is a pervasive atmosphere of uncertainly and fear that strangles innovative thought.

It was only in the 20th century that freedom of expression began to be recognised as a basic human right. Today, freedom of speech and expression remain tenuous or even unknown in many nations that are signatories to the UN’s declaration of human rights. As in the distant past, it is those in positions of power and influence who stand against the freedom to articulate common grievances and aspirations.

It has been rightly pointed out that what is most important is not so much freedom of speech as freedom after speech. Through long years of authoritarian rule, members of the movement for democracy in Burma have been punished for speaking out in protest against violations of human rights and abuses of power. The few who spoke out were articulating the silent protest of the many who had been cowed into submission. To stand as a few against the juggernaut of power is not hard. It was the solidarity of like-minded people, at home and abroad, that strengthened our advocates of freedom of speech.

An advocate of freedom of expression is necessarily also a practitioner. The basic law for those who want to defend freedom of expression is that they must demonstrate their commitment by practising what they preach. When we speak out for our right to freedom of speech, we begin to exercise it. When we write about our right to freedom of expression, we begin to practise it. There can be no theoretical advocacy of these freedoms, there can only be practical, practising advocacy.

Aung San Suu Kyi is leader of the National League for Democracy. She was awarded the Novel Peace Price in 1991

This article appears in 40 years of Index on Censorship which marks the organisation’s 40th anniversary with a star line-up of the most outstanding activists, journalists and authors. Click here for subscription options and more

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In fact the senior officer who had been summoned to passport control to inspect my journalist visa smiled and said “Welcome to Myanmar Mr. BBC”. I gibbered some words of thanks and headed out into the sweltering, glorious night.

In the old days you presented yourself at passport control with a pounding heart and a dry mouth, convinced that at long last you were about to be found out. After all, you had made so many visits as a tourist even the most gullible of immigration officers would be bound to question your devotion to the beauty of Burma.

It didn’t help when my “tourist” trips nearly always coincided with some major political upheaval. What kind of person wants to holiday in Rangoon while thousands of people are being locked up and tortured?

Yet I was never asked that question. Usually the bored officer flicked through the pages until he/she found the required visa, paused for a gut churning few seconds and stamped me into the country.

The real problem was not the men and women who stamped passports. It was the ghosts who haunted the short walk from immigration to customs. If you were going to get nailed going into Burma on a tourist visa it would happen in this little space. So I always made a point of not looking at the spooks from Military Intelligence who were scanning the faces of new arrivals. I knew they had a blacklist of journalists and photographs of their most hated. For some years I numbered among these.

Very occasionally a journalist visa would be issued, usually for an event like the opening of parliament or founders day. But most of the time we were forced to adopt the disguise of tourists. This led to your correspondent parading around Rangoon in a Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts and flip-flops during the 2007 “Saffron Revolution”; I cut a figure so florid, plump and ludicrous that nobody could possibly have suspected me capable of appearing on television.

Reporting in those days meant following certain essential rules:

1. Never leave a compromising document, piece of paper in your hotel room.
2. Destroy all notes when you were finished with them.
3. Change taxis at least twice on your way to and from appointments with dissident figures. Lose yourself in markets and busy public places if you suspect you are being tailed.
4. Say NOTHING on the phone that didn’t sound like tourist blather.
5. Make sure to schedule several tourist activities each day so that anybody watching won’t have undue reason to be suspicious.
6. Never identify an informant on camera. This could have profoundly unpleasant consequences for them.
7. Never travel with your tapes. Find an alternative route for them out of the country. Its funny how many different people prove helpful when they know the story is an important one. This is one of the really pleasant surprises, for me, of clandestine operating. There are more idealistic people, committed to press freedom, than you think.

As the list –– and it is by no means complete –– indicates reporting from Burma in those days could be an exhausting business. Getting caught could mean a very unpleasant interrogation and deportation for the correspondent, but much worse for any of his informants. It was the knowledge of what could happen to the people who helped you that made reporting from Burma such a distinctly unnerving experience. Jail and torture were routine for those who took a public stand against the regime.

Since the beginning of 2012 I’ve visited Burma three times. Each trip has been on an official journalist visa. Not once have I been harassed, intimidated or interfered with. I have reported from city slums and rural villages, from huge opposition rallies and from within sedate government compounds. On my first “official” trip I walked the streets of downtown Rangoon interviewing people at random. Again my expectation was that a secret policeman would appear from the shadows and bundle myself and the camera team away. But nothing happened.

Suddenly it was possible to hire fixers who could organise interviews and translate without fear of arrest. We sat at a teashop in the middle of the city with a recently released pro-democracy activist who discussed his plans for the forthcoming by-elections. There were press conferences at Aung San Suu Kyi’s lakeside residence; they could be prolonged, crowded and exhaustingly democratic occasions: every backpack blogger travelling in Asia seemed to turn up with a question and was given an answer.

On the domestic media scene the iron fisted censorship has been substantially eased. I met young newspaper reporters out on the streets and asking questions of election candidates. The government has lifted restrictions on 30,000 websites, many of which provide political news and commentary.

The privately owned press is testing the boundaries of this new freedom. Exiled journalists were invited to come home for consultations on a new media bill. The only private TV station in the country felt free to broadcast footage of Aung San Suu Kyi addressing the British parliament. The first ever Rangoon Film Festival featured a vivid documentary on the suppression of the Buddhist Monks protests in 2007.

Yet there are still highly problematic areas. Journalist visas still tend to be issued only for landmark occasions: visits by foreign dignitaries, elections, national days of commemoration. Some foreign correspondents are thought to be still on a government blacklist. All blacklists must be scrapped.

As for visits to troubled areas the old habits of concealment and restriction still rule. As a consequence the reporting of the ethnic violence in Rakhine state — which displaced tens of thousands earlier in the summer — was often confused or biased.

Interviews with senior government ministers, especially the President, are very rare. The consequence is that an essential strand of the narrative of change is under-reported. How I long to ask the men at the top why they decided to embark on a process of such profound change, or to challenge both them and the opposition on their response to events in Rakhine state.

Aung San Suu Kyi’s party, the National League for Democracy, was strangely lethargic on the devastating abuses of human rights known to be taking place. It has been criticized for failing to challenge the outpouring of ethnic chauvinism directed against the Rohingya Muslim minority. In fact senior opposition activist Ko Ko Gyi, a former political prisoner, was among the louder voices that joined in the public marginalization of the minority.

On a more general level the NLD’s media operation can be exasperating. Interview requests can vanish into the ether. Finding the right spokesperson on a given issue is invariably a chore. Some of this is down to the inevitable stresses of a long suppressed organization struggling to come to terms with new freedoms. But the centralizing of the media focus around Aung San Suu Kyi leaves the international media largely ignorant of other voices. Local journalists have also complained about their struggles with the NLD’s press bureau.

For all these misgivings the advance of media freedom in Burma is exciting. Burma has never really known a free press — not in the long years of British colonialism, not in the decades of military rule. The challenge now is to embed a culture of openness in which government and opposition are routinely challenged.

Fergal Keane is an award winning journalist and author. His most recent book is Road of Bones: The Epic Siege of Kohima 1944

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