13 Apr 2017 | News and features, Turkey, Turkey Uncensored
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”86316″ img_size=”full” alignment=”center”][vc_column_text]This article is authored by a researcher who has requested anonymity.
Much has been publicised about the crackdown on freedom of expression in the aftermath of the failed coup attempt that transpired on the night of 15 July 2016 in Turkey. This is not the first time that Turkey has experienced a military coup; indeed, violent overthrows of elected governments had already occurred in 1960, 1971 and 1980.
In 1997, the military intervened once more, this by issuing a memorandum that aimed to rein in the Islamist agenda of Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan and his Welfare Party Government. Widely called a “postmodern coup” the military effectively forced him out of office. Each of these coups has engendered a rupture in Turkish political life and has profoundly impacted the realm of arts and culture.
This quality of rupture was perhaps nowhere more contoured than in the military take-over of 12 September 1980, during which the junta under the leadership of Kenan Evren pursued “mass imprisonment, systematic torture, and disappearances” of oppositional, and especially leftist forces. The actual extent of the human rights violations that occurred has yet to be investigated in full but a few figures published by the Istanbul-based Truth, Justice and Memory Center give a glimpse of the social, political and cultural toll of the coup: “according to statistics, approximately 650,000 people were taken into custody, more than 1.5 million were blacklisted by the state, a quarter of a million were put on trial, and 300 lost their lives in various ways.”
Along with disbanding labour unions and limiting freedom of assembly and freedom of the press, the military junta also curtailed academic and artistic expression by establishing the state-controlled Higher Education Council (YÖK) and instituting various mechanisms to pre-screen and censor artworks, especially literary production and films, for years to come. What is often overlooked, however, is that each of these coups has also produced erasure and forgetting in the cultural history of Turkey, not least by curtailing associational life.
Associations that artists were part of were never simply closed, their archives were confiscated too. In this way, the memory of their work was not merely delegitimized but the material traces were likewise destroyed or made inaccessible to the generations that followed. While this dynamic has affected the realm of arts and culture in Turkey in general, the persecution, repression and erasures of Kurdish cultural and artistic production have certainly been the most consistent.
As Kurdish was long classified as an “unrecognised language”, and the existence of Kurds has long been denied in Turkey, Kurdish artistic production has been criminalised and frequently classified as separatist propaganda. Along with individual artists and works of art, Kurdish associational life – as a bedrock of artistic production and cultural reproduction that facilitates the transfer practices, knowledge and memory have been repeatedly targeted; their archives were confiscated and (possibly) destroyed many times over.
What sets this time apart, however, is that the coup attempt actually – and importantly – failed. Yet, the state of emergency declared on 21 July 2016, billed as a necessary tool to investigate the coup and bring the plotters to justice has expanded beyond members of the Gülenist movement to oppositional groups overall by way of Turkey’s vague anti-terrorism legislation. With the extension of the power of the state apparatus, we are, once more witnessing attacks on the field of culture and the arts in general, and Kurdish artistic production in particular.
As investigative journalist Elif İnce reported in January 2017: “Over 1,400 associations and foundations have been shut down with the state of emergency decrees […]. Kurdish arts and culture associations with prominent theatre companies, such as Seyr–î Mesel in Istanbul and various branches of the Mesopotamia Cultural Centre (MKM), are among those permanently shut.”
From September 2016 onwards the AKP government ordered state-appointed trustees to take over the municipalities of several Kurdish cities that had been governed by the pro-Kurdish HDP; their mayors are now facing various charges of aiding and abetting terrorists, and separatist propaganda. These municipalities had been supportive of Kurdish artistic production, both establishing new avenues for artists and assisting initiatives that had been built arduously through grassroots efforts during decades of violence and insecurity. Among the current cases of repression, the de facto closure of the Amed Art Gallery in Diyarbakir through the Ankara-appointed trustee left the city without public facilities to exhibit visual art. The municipal theatre, lauded by the AKP government just a few years ago for performing Hamlet in Kurdish, has likewise been disbanded. The same is true for the city theatres of Batman and Hakkari.
This recent wave of repressions has included sealing off performance and rehearsal spaces, and the confiscation of archives, props, and other equipment. It has extended from municipal theatres in the Kurdish regions to theatre groups affiliated with Kurdish arts and culture associations across the country. Archives are now digital and can be more easily saved, quite in contrast to the 1990s when the MKM were raided repeatedly, threatened by closure, their members often harassed and charged with separatist propaganda based on the mere fact that they pursued artistic production in Kurdish. The Kurdish cultural landscape has been very resilient and experienced in navigating these kinds of repression – and the erasures they engender. But will the same be true for the rest of Turkey’s art world?
Access to the past, to cultural and artistic memory, is intimately connected to freedom of expression. Along with human rights and democratic institutions, cultural memory is once again at stake, and under risk to be erased in Turkey. [/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]
Turkey Uncensored is an Index on Censorship project to publish a series of articles from censored Turkish writers, artists and translators.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”12″ style=”load-more” items_per_page=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1492093371629-c08ef909-721a-10″ taxonomies=”8607″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
13 Apr 2017 | Magazine, News and features, Volume 46.01 Spring 2017
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”89329″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes” alignment=”center”][vc_custom_heading text=”Mexico-based journalist DUNCAN TUCKER writes in the spring 2017 issue on reporting in a country where news is not just repressed, it’s fabricated, and journalists face violent threats from police and cartels. ” google_fonts=”font_family:Libre%20Baskerville%3Aregular%2Citalic%2C700|font_style:400%20italic%3A400%3Aitalic”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
“I hope the government doesn’t give in to the authoritarian temptation to block internet coverage and start arresting activists,” Mexican blogger and activist Alberto Escorcia told Index on Censorship magazine.
Escorcia had just received a series of threats for writing an article about recent unrest in the country. The next day the threats against him intensified. Feeling trapped and unprotected, he began making plans to flee the country.
Many people are concerned about the state of freedom of expression in Mexico. A stagnant economy, a currency in freefall, a bloody drug war with no end in sight, a deeply unpopular president at home and the belligerent Donald Trump administration freshly installed in the USA across the border, these forces are all creating a squeeze in 2017.
One of the biggest tensions is Mexico’s own president. Enrique Peña Nieto’s four years in office have brought sluggish economic growth. There has also been resurgent violence and a string of corruption scandals. In January this year his approval ratings plummeted to 12%.
But when journalists have tried to report on the president and his policies they have come under fire. For example, 2017 began with intense protests after Peña Nieto announced a 20% hike in petrol prices. Days of demonstrations, blockades, looting and confrontations with police left at least six people dead and more than 1,500 arrested. The Committee to Protect Journalists reported that police beat, threatened or briefly detained at least 19 reporters, who were covering the unrest in the northern states of Coahuila and Baja California.
News was not just suppressed, it was fabricated. Mass hysteria enveloped Mexico City as legions of Twitter bots incited violence and spread false reports of further looting, causing the temporary closure of 20,000 small businesses.
“I’ve never seen Mexico City like this,” Escorcia said over the phone from his home in the capital. “There are more police than normal. There are helicopters flying above us every hour and you can hear sirens constantly. Even though there hasn’t been any looting in this part of the city, people think it’s happening everywhere.”
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
Duncan Tucker is a freelance journalist, based in Guadalajara, Mexico. The rest of this article is available online here. This article is part of a series in the spring 2017 issue of Index on Censorship magazine that looks at situations where free speech is being restricted from multiple sides. You can read about all of the other content in the magazine here.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”From the Archives”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”89160″ img_size=”213×300″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/0306422011399687″][vc_custom_heading text=”Narco tales” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1177%2F0306422011399687|||”][vc_column_text]March 2011
Bloggers and citizen journalists are telling the stories that the mainstream Mexican media no longer dares to report, says Ana Arana.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”89168″ img_size=”213×300″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03064220902734319″][vc_custom_heading text=”Wall of silence” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1080%2F03064220902734319|||”][vc_column_text]February 2009
Analysis of the culture of intimidation facing investigative journalists in Mexico — from attacks on reporters to criminal activity.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”94760″ img_size=”213×300″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03064227608532576″][vc_custom_heading text=”Guessing game” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1080%2F03064227608532576|||”][vc_column_text]April 1983
The unpredictability of Mexican government crackdown keeps the press guessing, making them careful with what they publish. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_separator][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_custom_heading text=”The Big Squeeze” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Fwww.indexoncensorship.org%2Fmagazine|||”][vc_column_text]The spring 2017 issue of Index on Censorship magazine looks at multi-directional squeezes on freedom of speech around the world.
Also in the issue: newly translated fiction from Karim Miské, columns from Spitting Image creator Roger Law and former UK attorney general Dominic Grieve, and a special focus on Poland.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”88788″ img_size=”medium” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”https://www.indexoncensorship.org/magazine”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_custom_heading text=”Subscribe” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Fwww.indexoncensorship.org%2Fsubscribe%2F|||”][vc_column_text]In print, online. In your mailbox, on your iPad.
Subscription options from £18 or just £1.49 in the App Store for a digital issue.
Every subscriber helps support Index on Censorship’s projects around the world.
SUBSCRIBE NOW[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
13 Apr 2017 | Awards, Digital Freedom, News and features
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]In a Russian republic marked by a clash between the rule of law, the weight of traditions, and the growing influence of Islamic fundamentalism, Daptar, a website run by journalists Zakir Magomedov and Svetlana Anokhina, covers the issues affecting women that receive little coverage by other local media. Daptar seeks to promote debate. The small team of journalists, working alongside a volunteer lawyer and psychologist, also tries to provide help to the women they are in touch with.
Index spoke to Magomedov ahead of the Freedom of Expression Awards.
Ryan McChrystal: What led you to set up Daptar?
Zakir Magomedov: I am a journalist from Dagestan. A few years ago I worked for a human rights organisation there, helping people mistreated by the police. During that time we received a lot of statements from victims of domestic and sexual violence. In Dagestan there are a lot of human rights organisations, but they are human rights organisations in name only – they don’t actually do anything, especially when it comes to women’s rights.
I decided it would be a good idea to create a website for women, which we started in 2014. We write a lot of articles about domestic violence and honour killings in Dagestan, Chechnya and other North Caucasus regions. And our content isn’t just about women’s problems; we also profile women doing well in business, sports and other areas.
McChrystal: What does the name “Daptar” mean?
Magomedov: It’s an Arabic word that means different things in different caucuses. In the Chechen language it means copybook. In one of the Dagestani languages it means diary.
McChrystal: How is Daptar staffed?
Magomedov: It’s just me and my colleague Svetlana. I am like the director and she is the editor. These are positions without money or salary. The little funds we do receive go towards paying journalists for their articles, for example. We also worked with a lawyer and a psychologist for online consultation services, but now we haven’t any support. I often spend my own money to pay for articles.
We sometimes got support from some local businessmen, but it wasn’t enough. But Svetlana and I aren’t working for money. For me, it’s about doing something good.
McChrystal: How has the lawyer helped?
Magomedov: In one case, the child of a woman from Dagestan was kidnapped by her ex-husband. The woman was beaten. He then took gasoline and said if she didn’t sign papers to say the children could live with him, he would burn her.
After that, she came to us and we took her to the police to give her statement. Every day during that month, I waited for her after work to walk her home because she feared her ex-husband would come. In the end, she got her child and is now living in Russia. We helped her move from Dagestan.
McChrystal: Why do journalists in the region seem to neglect these issues? What are the main difficulties?
Magomedov: In Dagestan, for example, there is freedom of speech, but local journalists don’t cover women’s problems. I don’t know why – perhaps they don’t want to work with unpopular topics, or maybe it’s because of the dangerous.
When we wrote an article about FGM we got a lot of abuse from the internet, especially directed at Svetlana. She got very depressed when a lot of people wrote things like: “we’re going to kill you”, “we’re going to destroy your website”, “you shouldn’t write about this topic”, “you are lying”.
Many suppose we were lying about the extent of FGM, domestic violence and honour killings.
McChrystal: You say Svetlana has suffered quite badly as a result of Daptar’s work. Is it any easier for you as a man to speak out on these issues?
Magomedov: It was difficult for me at first. I was born and grew up in this society. My friends would call me a feminist and say things like: “Today you write about women’s issues and tomorrow it’ll be LGBT issues.” They didn’t mean this in a good way. They would say horrible things, but I’m OK with that. I can write about these topics just like an ordinary journalist with a job.
I was the first person to write about women’s circumcising in Dagestan and I got bullied a lot for that. I don’t care though.
McChrystal: What is it about the culture in Dagestan that makes a word like “feminism” such a dirty word?
Magomedov: It is definitely a dirty word in Dagestan, especially for men. This is a patriarchal society. The culture is that a women’s place is the kitchen. She should just look after the children and be a housewife. Anyone writing about women’s rights is seen as an enemy. The word “feminist” is a dirty word in Russian, but in Dagestan it is especially negative. But I have no problem with calling myself a feminist.
McChrystal: Your investigation into FGM last year went a long way to breaking the silence around the practice by fostering a nation-wide debate. This must make you very proud. What other investigations are you proud of in the last year?
Magomedov: The generation gap among Chechens means that a lot of older relatives don’t like the behaviour of their children. They don’t it like when Chechen girls have dates or are meeting with guys, especially if they aren’t Chechen guys. It all brings shame on that person. There have been a few situations where parents take their girls and kill them. We are currently investigating these cases. We worked with an expert in Chechnya on this issue.
We also cover dress codes in Chechnya, because officials there want girls to wear the hijab. We wrote about divorce in the region and one story in particular where one murdered woman’s sister wasn’t able to get justice for her in court.
Children with HIV is a big issue in Chechnya, and we’ve done work in this area. We cover a lot of stories, and all of them are very important.
McChrystal: What have been some of the more positive reactions to Daptar?
Magomedov: I won’t lie – we haven’t really seen much of a positive reaction. After the work on FGM, we met with Muslim leaders in Dagestan. They acknowledged it was a big problem and said we shouldn’t talk about it, we should write more and more articles, even in religious newspapers. But it was just one meeting and nothing happened after that.
We do hear stories from and about women we have aided or encouraged, including the eight victims of domestic violence we helped last year.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1492084802623-2cd71c55-f5dc-8″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
13 Apr 2017 | Digital Freedom, Events
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”89311″ img_size=”full”][vc_column_text]
Ildar Dadin is a Russian human rights activist who was the first, and remains the only, person to be convicted under a notorious 2014 public assembly law aimed at quashing protest. For his one-man demonstrations, Dadin – a nominee for this year’s Index on Censorship Freedom of Expression Awards – was sentenced, in 2015, to three years in prison, where he was tortured. Despite the sudden and unexpected quashing of his conviction in February of this year, Dadin remains subject to a travel ban which prevents him from leaving Russia. As a result, he is unable to join us in person.
The Henry Jackson Society, in association with Index on Censorship, is pleased to invite you to an event with Anastasia Zotova, Human rights activist and wife of Ildar Dadin. She has worked closely with him throughout his incarceration, fought for his release and has since campaigned alongside him. She will join us to shed a timely light on the increasingly dangerous environment for dissenters in Russia, the appalling conditions faced by Russia’s prisoners, and the future for political opposition in the country.
Anastasia Zotova is a journalist, human rights campaigner and wife of Russian political activist Ildar Dadin. Zotova, a daughter of two Putin supporters, first met Dadin whilst working as a journalist covering his protests. When he was imprisoned, she decided to marry Dadin, allowing the couple to maintain contact. Zotova subsequently worked to protect and defend her husband, using her position to fight for his release, speak out against the torture he and fellow inmates were facing and draw attention to wider Russian human rights abuses. With Dadin now facing a travel ban, she is an important international advocate.
Ildar Dadin is a Russian opposition activist. He was the first, and remains the only, person to be convicted under a notorious 2014 public assembly law. Dadin was arrested and sentenced to three years’ imprisonment in December 2015. In November 2016, website Meduza published a letter smuggled from Dadin to his wife, exposing torture he claimed he was suffering alongside fellow prisoners. The letter, a brave move for a serving prisoner, was widely reported. A government investigation was prompted, and Dadin was transferred – against his will – to a Siberian prison colony. In February 2017, Russia’s constitutional and Supreme Courts suddenly quashed Dadin’s conviction, ruling he should be released and afforded opportunity for rehabilitation.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”12″ style=”load-more” items_per_page=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1492680120979-1b987176-cd1f-0″ taxonomies=”8935″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
