UPDATE: Unconfirmed reports are circulating that Khartabil has been secretly sentenced to death by the Syrian government. We ask the Syrian authorities to reveal Khartabil’s whereabouts and release him immediately and unconditionally.
Syria’s authorities have yet to disclose the whereabouts of Bassel Khartabil, a software developer and defender of freedom of information, one month after his transfer to an undisclosed location, 22 organizations said today. Syrian authorities should immediately reveal his whereabouts and release him.
Military intelligence detained Khartabil on March 15, 2012. On October 3, 2015, Khartabil managed to inform his family that security officers had ordered him to pack but did not reveal his destination. His family has received no further information. They suspect that he may have been transferred to the military-run field court inside the military police base in Qaboun.
“Each day without news feels like an eternity to his family,” a spokesperson for the organizations said. “Syrian authorities should immediately reveal his whereabouts and reunite him with them.”
The Syrian authorities should immediately reveal Khartabil’s whereabouts and release him immediately and unconditionally, the organizations said. He is facing military field court proceedings for his peaceful activities in support of freedom of expression.
International law defines an enforced disappearance as an action by state authorities to deprive a person of their liberty and then refuse to provide information regarding the person’s fate or whereabouts.
Military field courts in Syria are exceptional courts that have secret closed-door proceedings and do not allow for the right to defense. Based on accounts by people who have appeared before these courts, the proceedings were perfunctory – lasting minutes – and did not meet minimum international standards for a fair trial. During a field court proceeding on December 9, 2012, a military judge interrogated Khartabil for a few minutes, but he had heard nothing about his legal case since then.
A Syrian of Palestinian parents, Khartabil is a 34-year-old computer engineer who worked to build a career in software and web development. Before his arrest, he used his technical expertise to help advance freedom of speech and access to information via the internet. Among other projects, he founded Creative Commons Syria, a nonprofit organization that enables people to share artistic and other work using free legal tools. Despite his imprisonment, Khartabil’s digital work is still advancing knowledge; last month, colleagues produced a new 3D model of the ancient Palmyra ruins using data collected by Khartabil before his detention. The UNESCO world heritage site is currently being destroyed by Islamic State, also known as ISIS, fighters, but the project was able to reconstruct their earlier appearance based on Khartabil’s measurements.
So far this year, five secularists have been hacked to death with machetes by hardline Islamists in Bangladesh. Four writers — Avijit Roy, Washiqur Rahman Babur, Ananta Bijoy Das, and Niloy Chakrabarti — have been murdered, and on 31 October, Faisal Arefin Dipan, who published Roy’s books, was killed at his office in Dhaka. Two secular bloggers and another publisher were badly injured in a similar attack just hours earlier.
This spate of attacks began in earnest in 2013, when atheist writer Asif Mohiuddin was attacked with machetes. While he survived, blogger Ahmed Rajib Haider, attacked a month later, wasn’t so fortunate. At the time, the attacks were linked to political tensions over the ongoing war crimes tribunal. Today, the brutal assaults on secularists seem to have taken on a life of their own and the government has failed to take any decisive action, meaning secularists have been marked out as an easy target. “We don’t want to be seen as atheists,” said the prime minister’s son, Sajeeb Wazed, in May.
In 2013, militant Islamists issued a hit list of 84 bloggers. Numerous other lists are in circulation. For those who are under threat, the situation is terrifying: amongst the small community of “freethinkers”, as they describe themselves, there is a sense that no one is safe. One blogger, who wrote on feminism and religion who wished to remain anonymous, arrived in Europe on 30 October, the day before Dipan was murdered. “I had direct threats to my life; I stopped blogging but the threats continued and I couldn’t even leave the house. Even now, I can’t believe that I’m safe,” she told me over the phone.
The feeling is shared among many atheist bloggers, who use pseudonyms out of fear of reprisals. Prithu Sanyal (not his real name) was a mid-level government employee in Bangladesh who blogged for years on different online forums for atheist writers. He comes from a Muslim family, but later became an atheist and is openly critical of fundamentalism and religious intolerance. This year, he had a frightening experience. “Some unknown people, who introduced themselves as members of ‘Allah’s Army’, stopped me on the way of returning home from the office, and threatened to kill me with my wife and sons,” he told me via email. “They told me that now it is my turn to be killed and also threatened to kill my wife for being my accomplice, and my sons for being brought up without a religious view.”
Sanyal did not go to the police. He feared outing himself and losing his job. Moreover, he had no reason to believe that the government would offer him protection.
These fears are well grounded. Mohiuddin, the first blogger attacked with machetes in 2013, was soon afterwards arrested under blasphemy laws, illustrating the double threat of extremist violence and official repression. He remained in Dhaka for some time, but conditions were difficult. He covered his face with a mask when he left the house, fearing vigilante attack or arrest. He now lives in Germany and told me that he still regularly receives death threats. “It’s very normal for me.”
Sanyal has also left Bangladesh but his family remains in the country. He asked Index on Censorship not to mention his destination as he still has safety concerns. Bangladeshi fundamentalists recently published an international hit list, including citizens of America and Europe. The clear implication is that nowhere is safe.
One blogger, Nastiker Dharmakatha, wrote a widely circulated document in July explaining the dire situation faced by those who remain in Bangladesh despite being on the hit list. “Since the killing of Ananta Bijoy Das, most of us have been keeping ourselves caged in four walls,” he wrote. “Being the main earning members of our families, we have to go to office regularly. Some of us can’t even avoid evening or night duty at work.”
The letter goes on to explain that the damage inflicted on bloggers isn’t just physical but also mental. With bedroom murders not uncommon, “even staying home fails to guarantee our safety”. Police officers can enter a home at any time to arrest bloggers for “provocative writings”.
After the most recent attacks on publishers, there have been protests in Bangladesh at the continued killings and perceived impunity for the killers. The home minister Asaduzzaman Khan Kamal did nothing to allay the sense that the government is not taking action, telling reporters: “The law-order situation is good. These sorts of stray incidents occur in all countries.”
Such sentiments offer little comfort to those facing a continued and serious threats to their life.
To mark the launch of the Music In Exile Fund, Index on Censorship has compiled a reading list of articles that have appeared in the magazine since 1982 and deal with censorship and music. We are offering these articles — which are normally held behind a paywall — for free.
Index on Censorship launched the Music In Exile Fund in partnership with the producers of They Will Have To Kill Us First: Malian Music In Exile – a documentary that follows musicians in Mali after the 2012 jihadist takeover during which music was outlawed. One band’s story featuring heavily in the film is Songhoy Blues, who are just one of many to feature in the Music In Exile Fund playlist.
The fund will contribute towards Index on Censorship’s Freedom of Expression Awards Fellowship, a year-long programme to support those facing censorship.
Marie Korpe and Ole Reitov have been tracking the music censors and the censored for more than a decade. They reflect on the tactics of modern censorship
When we founded Freemuse ten years ago, our aim was to defend freedom of expression for musicians and composers. Since then, we have documented music censorship in more than 100 countries. At first, we were not aware of the size of the problem, but the longer we have worked in the field, the larger the challenges become. Maybe we are still only seeing the tip of the iceberg. While more journalists have got music censorship on their radar and a number of musicians have benefited from our support, it is still rare to find records of music censorship and violations of musicians’ rights to freedom of expression in reports from Amnesty, Human Rights Watch and other global free expression watchdogs.
Some homophobic lyrics in rap and reggae incite hatred and violence,
agree campaigners Peter Tatchell and Topher Campbell. But is censorship the answer? First, Peter Tatchell explains why education will help. Then Topher Campbell tells Alice Kirkland where he would draw the line
Along with misogyny, homophobic lyrics have long blighted some rap and reggae music. Eminem and Buju Banton, among others, have found themselves in the firing line for their incendiary anti-gay hate music, ranging from rap songs containing insults like “faggot” to tracks that overtly glorify and encourage the murder of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people.
Homophobic hate speech is wrong, regardless of whether it is expressed by a bully in the street or by a singer.
Valrie Ceccherini writing in 1995 as part of a series focusing on the voices of those silenced by poverty, prejudice and exclusion
“My life has changed totally since the war,” says 20-year-old Ermin. He speaks of “the constant presence of death” with resignation. “I live shoulder to shoulder with death. Every time I go out, a missile could kill or wound me. Lots of my friends are dead. I think of them every day and 1 know 1 could join them at any moment. I’ve learned to live with this fear for three years now; there was no choice. I know it’s changed me. I’m harder, braver – or maybe I’ve just gone mad. Everybody here’s changed: everybody’s gone mad. You can’t help it after three years shut up in this hell.”
Emir is a slight youth of 17. “I used to spend most of my time away
from home, out with my friends. Now I scarcely ever leave home. It’s too dangerous.”
In the summer of 1977 I was 15 years old and wore an old tropical linen jacket I’d bought in a charity shop for a quid. It wasn’t so much off-white as ruinous, and it matched the colour of my shoes – winkle-pickers I’d painted myself using some kind of weird leather paint. Naturally I had to lie on my skinny rump to force my El Greco feet through the eight-inch ankles of my drainpipe jeans. Given all this sartorial mayhem it goes without saying that I absolutely concurred with the Sex Pistol’s front man, Johnny Rotten, when he sang, “God save the queen / The fascist regime”. Admittedly the causal connective “it’s” was lost in all the filth and the fury of his delivery, but we knew what he meant.
Actually, I can barely remember the circumstantial pomp that went into the celebration of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee, all I can recall is the Sex Pistols’ treasonable ditty, and the fact that it was banned from being played on the radio. At least I’m certain it was banned from the BBC’s Radio 1.
Mark Ludwig for Index on Censorship on how the Nazis used music as a propaganda tool in the service of its doctrine of racial purity and superiority. Composers and musicians who did not fit the formula found themselves In the camps
In the 1920s, Weimar Germany was home to a rich and diverse mix of artistic and political movements. Composers stretched the boundaries of, and in some cases charted new courses for, classical music. Zeitmusik (music of the time), the 12 tone system and jazz were part of a new and excitingly diverse web of musical movements. As Hitler and the Nazi Party assumed control of Germany, the arts and the political climate were affected. Under the Nazi dictatorship, the arts – particularly music – were used as tools for indoctrinating and controlling the German nation with an ideology of national superiority, suppression and racial hatred.
David Holden for Index on Censorship in 1993 on how anything — well almost — goes on the UK pop scene, but in the USA it’s a different story with Ice-T and the rappers sending shivers down parental spines
“Big boys bickering/fucking it up for everyone,” goes Paul McCartney’s 1992 song Big Boys Bickering. It’s an ecological song; the big boys bickering were the people at the Rio Earth Summit. About the song, McCartney has said: “When you talk about a hole in the ozone layer, you don’t talk about a flipping hole in the ozone layer, you talk about a fucking hole in the ozone layer. I know it might upset some of my fans, but I’m an artist, and I’m 50 years old and I think I can say what I like.”
Not on MTV America, Paul. According to the pop video channel, The Greatest Living Songwriter — faithful husband, caring parent, concerned citizen — is once again unsuitable for the youth of the USA.
Vratislav Brabenec and Ivan Jirous tell the story of The Plastic People, a rock band which was seen as a threat by the Czech authorities during the Cold War
“Why should music be censorable?” asks Yehudi Menuhin on another page. Elsewhere in this issue the reader will see that in some parts of the world even certain musical instruments can be declared taboo by this or that military dictatorship. In Czechoslovakia since the early seventies it has been chiefly rock music that arouses the ire of the authorities – and those who insist on playing it find themselves not just banned but imprisoned.
Ah, but of course, one might say: if you set out to be a protest singer in a society ruled by a one-party dictatorship, what do you expect? The trouble with that line of argument is that The Plastic People of the Universe and the other rock groups with similarly strange names were not protest singers at all.
Aided by the Internet, racist music has made inroads on European youth culture, says Heléne Löow
It was in the first half of the 1990s that White Noise music became the symbol of the growing racist subculture around Europe. Between 1990 and 1995, the music industry, then in a period of rapid expansion, gradually replaced the badly copied tapes, records that were hard to come by and roughly photocopied magazines with professionally produced CDs. The number of CDs on the market grew steadily; production became increasingly professional with Swedish White Noise record labels among the world’s most active producers.
By 1996, the first phase was over; for the next two years, production maintained its levels but there was no significant increase. By 1999, however, it was once more on the rise, along with white-power magazines, and other propaganda material.
One of Uruguay’s best-known singers talks to Daniel Viglietti about his life in exile
I was first invited to this conference to participate, together with the Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano, in an event in which song and literature would work together, bringing together a man like Galeano, who writes with a pen, with someone like me, who, if you would allow me, writes with a guitar. Later on, the organisers phoned me to ask if I would add some thoughts about exile. I agreed to that, since I have been living in that situation now for eight years and one month. Given the nature of this occasion, I have attended some meetings handicapped by the fact that I do not speak English. For this kind of contribution, I need my mother tongue, Spanish. Today I have the advantage of a translation so I am going to throw out some ideas about the exile in which hundreds of thousands of Uruguayans have been living for eight, nine or even 10 years.
Nick Caistor on the Report of the Commission for Truth and Reconciliation, which revealed for the first time the details of how Chilean musician Victor Jara died
Victor Jara was one of the best-known singers and theatre directors during Salvador Allende’s Popular Unity government in Chile. From 1970 to 1973, Jara sang for the people and put on shows in shanty towns and factories, determined that popular culture should be at the heart of the government’s efforts to take Chile along its ‘path to Socialism’.
Shortly after the military coup led by General Augusto Pinochet on 11 September 1973, Victor Jara was taken prisoner. With hundreds of other suspects, he was held in the Chile stadium in the capital, Santiago. He was last seen alive as he was being transferred from there to the National Stadium on 15 September 1973.
In the latest issue of Index on Censorship magazine Spies, secrets and lies: How yesterday’s and today’s censors compare, we look at nations around the world, from South Korea to Argentina, and discuss if the worst excesses of censorship have passed or whether new techniques and technology make it even more difficult for the public to attain information. Subscribe to the magazine.
Zulkiflee Anwar Haque, aka Zunar, is a Malaysian political cartoonist who has been repeatedly targeted by authorities on account of his work. Five of his cartoon books have been banned by the Malaysian government for allegedly carrying content “detrimental to public order” and thousands confiscated in an effort to curtail freedom of expression.
Zunar told an audience gathered at the Amnesty International Human Rights Action Centre about his battle against corruption through his work as a cartoonist.
