Journalist and human rights activist Rafael Marques de Morais (Photo: Alex Brenner for Index on Censorship)
Just days after being named the joint winner of the journalism award at the 15th Index on Censorship Freedom of Expression Awards, Angolan journalist Rafael Marques de Morais appeared in court for exposing corruption and human rights abuses.
Marques was confronted with up to 15 additional charges when he arrived in court on 24 March. The case was later adjourned until 23 April.
I went to court today facing nine charges of criminal defamation. I left slapped with up to 15 additional ones for defamation. Speechless!
Marques’ leading investigative work into corruption and human rights abuses at Angola’s diamond companies was distilled into his 2011 book Blood Diamonds: Torture and Corruption in Angola. He recounted 500 cases of torture and 100 murders of villagers living near diamond mines, carried out by private security companies and military officials.
Marques declared the bosses of these groups morally responsible for the atrocities committed under them, and filed charges of crimes against humanity against seven Angolan generals. After his case was dropped by the prosecution, the generals launched a series of retaliation lawsuits in Angola and Portugal, charging Marques with criminal libel.
The suit demands a total of £800,ooo from Marques. He could face up to nine years in prison.
Index on Censorship calls for Angolan authorities to drop all charges against Rafael Marques de Morais and respect press freedom.
Vladimir Putin has returned to his people after a noted absence. Like Jesus Christ, but with a longer interlude. Was Vladimir Vladimirovich on paternity leave? Has he been ill? Did a botox injection go wrong? Was he fending off a coup? Has there, in fact, been a coup? Is this even the real Putin we see before us? Has he been replaced by a KGB cyborg?
It’s all delightfully old-fashioned, as if global politics was being staged by the Secret Cinema people. Any day now, someone will declare that Kremlinology is the hot new thing among urban ABC1 early adopters.
As ever, this column aims to be ahead of the curve. So what do we know?
The near-coincidence of the murder of Boris Nemtsov and the temporary disappearance of the president is bound to raise suspicion. I recall a conversation with an old colleague who grew up under the Soviet system. The idea of “cock up versus conspiracy” came up. I explained haughtily how people were wrong to see invisible hands guiding events when sheer human incompetence was almost always the explanation when things went weird. “Yes,” my friend replied. “But where I’m from, there usually is a conspiracy.”
Fair point.
The rounding up of some Chechens to pin the assassination of Nemtsov on feels almost contemptuous. It’s like the Russian authorities are not even bothering any more, or as if they are hoping to win a medal for sheer chutzpah in the face of the facts.
The suggestion that seems to be gaining ground is that Putin is no longer in charge, or perhaps won’t be for much longer. People such as The Economist’s Ed Lucas, The Times’s Roger Boyes and The Interpreter’s Catherine Fitzpatrick now speak deadly seriously about a return to the Cold War, with Putin outflanked by people who think he is not hardline enough.
A long blogpost on the current situation by Fitzpatrick outlines the scenarios. Former Prime Minister Primikov has issued an ultimatum to Putin, but Primakov himself could not command a move against Putin. Nemtsov had to go because a popular outsider could have caused problems for a palace coup. What is the involvement of Duma Deputy Delimkhanov, a cousin of Chechen President Kadyrov? What is the position of Viktor Zolotov, head of internal troops? It all becomes dizzyingly complicated, like an epic Russian novel, or Woody Allen’s parody of the epic Russian novel, Love and Death: “Alexei loves Tatiana like a sister… Tatiana’s sister loves Trigorian like a brother… Trigorian’s brother is having an affair with my sister, who he likes physically, but not spiritually… The firm of Mishkin and Mishkin is sleeping with the firm of Taskov and Taskov.”
Putin returned this week, not offering an explanation for his 10-day absence, but instead wryly commenting, during a press conference with the president of Kyrgyzstan, Almazbek Atambayev, that “life would be boring without gossip”.
Indeed, Vladimir Vladimirovich. Indeed.
The miasma to the east of the European Union’s borders has become more impenetrable and more obvious since the outbreak of fighting in Ukraine. Events there now take on the characteristics of the title of Peter Pomerantsev’s recent book Nothing Is Real And Everything Is Possible — a state of affairs where the brazen manipulation of truth is taken to staggering levels, to the point where an invasion is not an invasion, a war is somehow not taking place.
The Kremlin and its oligarch clients may not care much for truth, but one would hope that Cambridge University Press would.
CUP has been criticised by the organisers of a book prize for its refusal to publish a book on Russia by one of its own authors in the United Kingdom. According to The Observer, judges of the Pushkin House Russian Book Prize attempted review Putin’s Kleptocracy by Karen Dawisha for competition, but CUP refused to submit it.
“We attempted to get hold of the Dawisha book but the publisher would not submit it to us because of legal advice about UK libel laws. Our judges noted the book and said it raised important issues that deserved a wider audience, but unfortunately could not all get hold of a copy to pass judgment,” Andrew Jack, chair of the judges told the paper.
Disappointing indeed, and confirmation of the continual refusal by CUP to publish this book in the UK. The depressing thing about this, as noted in this column last year, is that CUP has not questioned the veracity of Dawisha’s work.
John Haslam of CUP wrote last year that: “We have no reason to doubt the veracity of what you say, but we believe the risk is high that those implicated in the premise of the book — that Putin has a close circle of criminal oligarchs at his disposal and has spent his career cultivating this circle — would be motivated to sue and could afford to do so. Even if CUP was ultimately successful in defending such a lawsuit, the disruption and expense would be more than we could afford, given our charitable and academic mission.”
I don’t like the language of “bravery” around publishers, but frankly, I’m beginning to doubt CUP’s commitment to the cause of academic freedom. More particularly, one wonders who is offering the company legal advice. Substantive reform to the libel law has made it considerably more difficult for foreigners to bring cases in London. Dawisha is not a fly-by-night hack, but a serious researcher. Conditions for publication are favourable. And faced with an entire Kremlin apparatus which has perfected the use of smoke and mirrors, the world needs all the information it can get.
CUP says it has contacted Dawisha to see “whether we might be able to find a compromise”. But considering they have already admitted there is nothing wrong with the book, it’s difficult to see what Dawisha’s side of the compromise might be.
This thing has dragged on too long now. For God’s sake, Cambridge; just publish the bloody thing.
Safa Al Ahmad has spent the last three years covertly filming a mass uprising in Saudi Arabia’s Eastern Province that had, until her film, gone largely unreported. She did this in a country where those accused of dissent can face execution and travelling solo as a female is restricted. Al Ahmad’s 30-minute documentary, Saudi’s Secret Uprising, gave a rare glimpse of civil unrest from the region when it was broadcast by the BBC in May 2014. Since her important documentary aired Al Ahmad has faced extensive and violent online threats, and has been advised for her own safety not to return to her country. She is the joint recipient of the 2015 Index on Censorship Freedom of Expression Award for Journalism.
Saudi Arabia is a mystery, even to its own people.
Parts of our history deliberately concealed, the present muddled with rumours and half-truths.
The government-owned and controlled media play a major role in the dissemination of those false realities of ourselves and others.
This makes facts a precious commodity in Saudi Arabia.
The uprising in the east of Saudi Arabia is a perfect example of how well the government has succeeded in controlling the story and the narrative around an unprecedented event in modern Saudi history. And it also exposes the failure of media in not cutting through the government’s narrative.
Since the protests started in Qatif in early 2011 along with the rest of the Arab world, youth were arrested and given death sentences for posting on Facebook, like Mohmed Alnmir. Poets like Adel Al Labad, and human rights activist Fathil Al Manasif were given 15 year sentences for threatening “social stability”. So called anti-terrorism laws were introduced to criminalise most forms of dissent.
For the film I made that tells this story, and shares my opinions, I have been accused of lying and spying, advocating terrorism, aiding and abetting terrorists, and of course I have been called a heretic.
As a journalist in the Middle East people think they have the right to constantly ask what religion or sect you belong to and judge your work accordingly. It has become nearly impossible to do a story without talking about Sunnis and Shia. But sectarianism is used as a tool, as a weapon, to further confuse and tangle an already complicated political landscape. It has become acceptable reductive language in the media, both Arab and western, to explain our world.
In Saudi Arabia, it was used to isolate and crush a fledgling uprising. A clever way to stop the rest of the country from joining those who have the same demands – to stop political oppression, free political prisoners, have transparent and just courts, stop corruption, and have equal rights for all citizens.
But in the end, the uprising became reduced into a story of “Shia” minority protesting the majority Sunni rulers. A true statement at face value, but not the whole complicated, messy truth.
Documentary maker and journalist Safa Al Ahmad (Photo: Alex Brenner for Index on Censorship)
Hungarian journalist Tamás Bodoky founded the investigative news website Atlatszo.hu to promote a free press in Hungary, a country where journalists and news organisations face recently introduced media taxes, a proposed internet tax for citizens, smear campaigns and police-run office raids. Bodoky has brought together a range of crowd-sourced approaches to empower citizens in the face of this deteriorating situation for human rights, including tools to allow for anonymous reporting of corruption, to help investigate freedom of information requests (and refusals), and MagyarLeaks, a Tor-based whistleblowing service. Last year Atlatszo.hu was put on the government’s NGO blacklist, but Bodoky continues to run the site, as well as workshops to help keep investigative journalism in Hungary alive. He is the recipient of the 2015 Index on Censorship Freedom of Expression Award for Digital Activism.
Atlatszo.hu is calling on all those who believe that the independence of journalism in Hungary is under threat. All those who agree that politics and business interests have sunk their claws into everyday life. All those who know that taxpayer money is vanishing. We are calling on you to help us let the world know the truth.
Almost four years ago Atlatszo.hu pledged to tackle the uphill battle represented by these challenges.
As a watchdog NGO for investigative journalism, we set out to promote transparency and freedom of information in Hungary.
Atlatszo.hu – “atlatszo” means transparent in Hungarian – produces investigative reports, accepts information from whistleblowers, files freedom of information requests, and commences freedom of information lawsuits in cases where those requests are refused.
We are only a small group of journalists, lawyers and IT-specialists. But since the beginnings we have won more than 60 percent of FOI lawsuits we initiated. In fact we have been so successful in the courtrooms that in 2013 the governing majority introduced a bill to curtail FOI legislation which was dubbed “Lex Átlátszó” by the Hungarian press.
Looking back to 2011, when Atlatszo.hu was founded, I remember that many journalists dismissed the effort and were quite sure it wouldn’t last. We ignored these critics. We were confident that this was the way to go; to position ourselves outside the mainstream media, and to seek out alternative communication channels — because all of the main journalistic platforms were and still are severely constrained.
In Hungary, domestic journalism has come to represent the interests of local oligarchs. Multinational media firms are busy appeasing the political and economic powers that be. The advertising sector is a powerful censorship instrument – too often used to exert pressure. And every year since we started, the situation has become dramatically worse.
Now, the ruling political elite is pushing out its full arsenal. From business regulation to media control. From forcing personnel changes to diverting media outlets by prescribing countless directions. State funded public media has been reduced to a propaganda tool.
Most recently, the Hungarian government sparked a row over the foreign funding of local NGOs. The row has escalated to the extent that even groups advocating simple environmental concerns, or campaigning against corruption, are now being targeted. The only tangible reason to be found is that the government doesn’t appreciate funding going to any organization it doesn’t fully approve of.
I look at all of this, I look at my country, and I say one simple thing. I say Atlatszo will not be defeated. Hungary can have a fair and just democracy. Yes, it still can be done.
Thank you.
Journalist Tamas Bodoky (Photo: Alex Brenner for Index on Censorship)
