29 Aug 2025 | Americas, Europe and Central Asia, Iran, Israel, Middle East and North Africa, News and features, Palestine, United Kingdom, United States
Bombarded with news from all angles every day, important stories can easily pass us by. To help you cut through the noise, every Friday Index publishes a weekly news roundup of some of the key stories covering censorship and free expression. This week, we look at the Israeli “double-tap” strike on a hospital that killed 20 people, and the sexual misconduct libel case of actor Noel Clarke.
In public interest: Actor Noel Clarke loses libel case against The Guardian
Prominent English actor Noel Clarke has lost a lengthy sexual misconduct libel case in High Court against The Guardian in which 26 witnesses testified against him.
The landmark case was based on a series of articles and a podcast published by the Guardian between April 2021 and March 2022 in which more than 20 women accused Clarke of sexual misconduct, with allegations ranging from unwanted sexual contact to taking and sharing explicit pictures without consent. The actor claimed that these allegations were false, bringing libel charges against the Guardian over what he believed was an unlawful conspiracy, reportedly seeking £70 million in damages if his case was successful.
Mrs Justice Steyn, ruling on the case, gave the verdict that the Guardian succeeded in defending themselves against the legal action on truth and public interest grounds, with Steyn stating that Clarke “was not a credible or reliable witness”, and that his claims of conspiracy were “born of necessity” due to the sheer number of witnesses testifying against him. In a summary of the findings, she ruled that the allegations made were “substantially true.”
The UK Anti-SLAPP Coalition, headed by Index on Censorship, have stated that while this is a crucial ruling, the case “exerted a significant toll on The Guardian and its journalists”, and that a universal anti-SLAPP law is necessary to avoid similar situations from occurring. Index also stated that “public interest journalism needs greater protections”. Katharine Viner, editor-in-chief of the Guardian, wrote this was a landmark ruling for investigative journalism and for the women involved. During proceedings, the court heard that one woman had been threatened with prosecution by Clarke’s lawyers in what was described by the lawyer acting for the Guardian as an attempt at witness intimidation.
Back–to–back strikes: more journalists killed in “double tap” attack on Gaza hospital
An Israeli attack in which two missiles hit back-to-back on the same Gaza hospital has killed at least 20 people, including four health workers and five journalists.
The attack struck Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, at approximately 10am on Monday 26 August. An initial missile hit the hospital, killing at least one person – then approximately ten minutes later, when rescue workers and journalists had flooded the scene, a second strike hit the hospital. This second attack was broadcast live on Al Ghad TV, and showed a direct hit on aid workers and reporters,. The nature of the attack has led to it being dubbed a “double-tap”, a military tactic in which an initial strike on a target is followed up shortly after with a second strike, which targets those who rush to the scene.. The IDF have released an initial inquiry into the attack, and are further investigating “several gaps” in how this incident came to pass.
The five media workers killed were Reuters journalist Hussam al-Masri who died in the initial strike, and Mohammad Salama of Al-Jazeera, Mariam Dagga of Associated Press, Ahmed Abu Aziz of Middle East Eye, and independent journalist Moaz Abu Taha killed subsequently. The attack follows a targeted Israeli strike on 10 August that left four Al-Jazeera journalists and three media workers dead. The Committee to Protect Journalists have documented that at least 189 Palestinian journalists have been killed by Israeli attacks in Gaza since the start of the war.
Putting out fires: Trump attempts to ban the burning of American flags
Donald Trump is moving to ban the burning of United States flags – an act that has been protected under a Supreme Court ruling since 1989.
Stating that burning the flag “incites riots at levels we’ve never seen before,” Trump signed an executive order that calls for Attorney General Pam Bondi to challenge a court ruling that categorises flag burning as legitimate political expression under the constitution. He outlined how anyone caught committing the offence would be subject to one year in jail – a statement that will be tested soo. Mere hours after signing the order a 20-year-old man was arrested for burning an American flag just outside the White House.
The White House published a fact sheet that described desecrating the American flag as “uniquely and inherently offensive and provocative”, and referenced the burning of the flag at the 2025 Los Angeles protests alongside conduct “threatening public safety”. They argue that despite the 1989 ruling, the Supreme Court did not intend for flag burning that is “likely to incite imminent lawless action” or serve as a form of “fighting words’” to be constitutionally protected.
The crime of online activism: Iranian activist sentenced to prison over social media activism
Iranian student activist Hasti Amiri has been sentenced in absentia to three years in prison for her social media advocacy for women’s rights and against the death penalty.
Amiri, who previously served 7 months in a Tehran prison in 2022 over her anti-death penalty stance, has been sentenced by a Revolutionary Court in Iran to three years imprisonment and a 500 million Iranian rial fine for “spreading falsehoods” and “propaganda against the state”, as well as a 30.3 million rial fine for appearing without a hijab in public.
Amiri reported all of the charges against her in a post on Instagram, writing that “When simply opposing the death penalty is considered propaganda against the state, then execution itself is a political tool of intimidation”. She is the latest human rights activist to face criminal charges in Iran – Sharifeh Mohammadi was recently sentenced to death for “rebelling against the just Islamic ruler(s)”, and student activist Motahareh Goonei was this week sentenced to 21 months in prison for the same crime of “propaganda against the state”.
Reforming local government: Reform UK bans local press access in Nottinghamshire
Journalists from the Nottingham Post have been banned from speaking to Reform UK members of Nottinghamshire County Council in what has been called a “massive attack on local democracy.”
Mick Barton, Reform’s council leader in Nottinghamshire reportedly took issue with the paper following an alleged dispute over an article covering a disagreement between councillors. The decision has been condemned by three former county council leaders, and has drawn scrutiny from national groups such as the National Union of Journalists and the Society of Editors.
The ban also covers reporters at the Nottingham Post from the BBC-funded Local Democracy Reporting Service which shares stories with media outlets across the country. The newspaper has also found out that press officers at the council have been told to take reporters off media distribution lists, meaning they won’t get press releases or be invited to council events. Leader of the opposition and former council leader Sam Smith criticised the ban: “The free press play a key role in keeping residents informed of actions being taken by decision makers and in return the press express the views of residents to the politicians and public in publishing balanced articles.”
Reform MP for Ashfield Lee Anderson, who has a history of disagreements with the Nottingham Post, has announced that he will also be joining the boycott. This follows social media posts from the MP accusing journalists of having a negative bias towards the party.
27 Aug 2025 | About Index, Europe and Central Asia, News and features, Newsletters, United Kingdom
Far too often in Britain and elsewhere governments claim the price of countering extremist threats is limiting free speech. The latest example in the UK is proscribing Palestine Action as a terrorist organisation, which has led to hundreds of people arrested for peacefully holding up banners supporting the organisation. On the other side of the aisle, people are exercising their right to protest against the use of hotels to house asylum seekers, actions justified by the shadow home secretary Chris Philp, who said they had “every right to protest”. But there is a fear by some that that “cordon sanitaire” between peaceful protesters and extreme far right neo-Nazis is being breached, with Byline Times identifying known supporters of extremist groups taking part.
That balance between free speech, protest and extremism is a delicate one and the instinct of some politicians to demonstrate grip, or respond to what they see as the consensus, can be to ban things and even label them terrorist or extremist activities. We at Index were warning about this 10 years ago.
Round the world, we know that terrorism legislation is often used to stop journalists reporting and opposition parties standing for election. Anti-terrorism laws can be a catch-all which criminalises opponents and scares off criticism. In some countries clamping down on so-called “terrorism” serves to close down interference from abroad: “Don’t criticise us with your liberal ideas, we are keeping you safe by locking up people who could blow you up.”
Mostly governments really don’t want to discuss these messy nuances. So it might be somewhat surprising that the Home Office, on its website, has decided to publish a series of essays commissioned by the outgoing Commissioner for Counter-terrorism, Robin Simcox entitled: Countering Terrorism: Defending free speech. In his introduction Simcox explains why he commissioned these thought pieces: “One, freedom of speech matters greatly to me. Two, I think it is under sustained attack. Three, counter-extremism work too often forms part of the offensive.”
One of his points, and an argument made in many of the essays, is that freedom of expression is uncomfortable. He writes: “We defend it because freedom of expression is the route by which we discover the truth; because testing conflicting opinion can be challenging but ultimately makes our discourse healthier; and because we learn to accept and indeed cherish those with differing viewpoints. The alternative – a coerced, ‘acceptable’ consensus of the day – offers a bleak vision of the future.”
The idea of “tolerance”, one essay argues, leads to a flattening of robust argument where we censor ideas and conversations in order not to offend others. Meanwhile Liam Duffy’s essay, titled Don’t Do Anything I Say in This Song: Countering Extremism with Candour, Not Censorship, is an interesting insight into how government works. He argues that there is a “complacency and cavalier attitude to freedom of expression” among those who deal with counter extremism with “concerns over free speech too often dismissed as being advanced with cynical motivations”.
Our very own editor-at-large Martin Bright’s essay, which you can read here, looks at the challenges journalists face when reporting on extremism and community relations.
Hopefully government ministers will read these essays before the end of the summer break and reflect on whether they have got the balance right in the UK.
26 Aug 2025 | Africa, News and features, Somalia, Volume 54.02 Summer 2025
This article first appeared in Volume 54, Issue 2 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled Land of the Free?: Trump’s war on speech at home and abroad, published on 21 July 2025. Read more about the issue here.
Speaking out about societal issues such as poverty, hunger and police abuse in Somalia is perilous. Both journalists and ordinary citizens practise self-censorship to avoid trouble. The country remains one of the most dangerous places in the world for journalists. More than 80 media workers have been killed since 1992, and dozens have been forced to leave the country due to threats on their lives.
A new directive issued by the government has worsened the situation by further restricting the media and the public from posting or broadcasting any information related to “insecurity” in the capital, Mogadishu. According to the minister of information, culture and tourism, Daud Aweis, those who violate this directive could face “legal consequences, including prosecution in court and severe punishment”.
Questioning government officials about security failures or attacks by the al-Shabaab militant group can land journalists or citizens in jail – as can highlighting issues such as poverty.
On Thursday 20 February at midday, Sayid Ali, a tuk-tuk driver, was waiting to pick up a client for a short ride into Mogadishu city centre when a group of armed police officers confronted him. They had his photo on their phones. Days earlier, Ali had spoken to local journalists about the corruption that has left many Mogadishu residents, including tuk-tuk drivers, struggling with hunger.
Ali, who is 46 years old and a father of five, had gained media attention under the nickname “Saan Miyaa”, which literally means “Is this how it is?” – a phrase expressing frustration over the widespread corruption that seems endless.
In an interview earlier that week with Shabelle TV, he had said: “People in Mogadishu are surviving on only a cup of tea every 24 hours because they have nothing to eat.” He blamed widespread corruption among government officials for driving up inflation, making it nearly impossible for ordinary citizens to afford even a single meal each day. He also complained about police extortion and the bribes they demanded from the city’s struggling tuk-tuk drivers.
External factors have made the problem worse. Somalia is one of the countries hardest hit by US president Donald Trump’s foreign aid freeze, with the termination of the US Agency for International Development (USAID) programme. The aid cuts have worsened food insecurity, reducing critical relief efforts at a time when drought, conflict and displacement were already pushing millions towards famine.
Following his arrest, Ali was taken to a police station and locked in a cell.
“They asked me why I was criticising the government. I said I was only describing the reality of our situation,” he told Index.
One officer allegedly turned the interrogation into a warning, telling Ali that he could be charged with “insulting the president” because his remarks directly implicated Somalia’s leadership. If found guilty of that, he could be imprisoned for between six months and three years.
“I was scared and did not know what to do,” he said. He was released after a day in detention but was given a final warning.
“We know you talk too much,” an officer allegedly told him. “But we warn you, stop talking about the president, or you will rot in jail.”
A police spokesperson, Abdifatah Adan Hassan, did not comment on Ali’s arrest. Ali was re-arrested and re-released in May, after speaking out publicly again.
Police brutality
This case is just one among dozens of arrests, harassment incidents and even killings targeting those who publicly criticise the government or the armed groups responsible for plunging Somalia into turmoil.
A few days before Ali’s arrest, a young man was reportedly killed in Afgooye, about 30km from Mogadishu, simply for sharing a Facebook post about police brutality. According to a family member who requested anonymity, Ismail Moalim, who was 27, was active on Facebook and had previously worked with the police.
“The police demand bribes from the families of detainees, and when they receive nothing, they beat them mercilessly,” the family member told Index.
The specific video that led to Moalim’s death, which has since been deleted, showed a police officer in Afgooye beating a young detainee. The footage was allegedly leaked online by a whistleblower, then shared more widely on Facebook.
“Ismail had only shared the video because he had many followers. Unfortunately, the officer involved in the beating knew him personally and came to our house. He shot Ismail twice in the head. Ismail died on the spot,” the family member said.
Impunity is high in Somalia – cases of murder are rarely investigated and perpetrators rarely arrested, especially when victims belong to a less influential group. Ismail’s case is a clear example of this, as he belonged to the Bagadi minority group, which has little influence among authorities or politicians.
The plight of female journalists
Women journalists are at particular risk. On the morning of Saturday 15 March, the National Intelligence and Security Agency (Nisa) raided the home of journalist Bahjo Abdullahi Salad in Mogadishu. Salad, who works for local news station RTN TV, had posted a video clip on her TikTok account showing rubbish left in a residential area after a Ramadan iftar feast attended by prime minister Hamza Abdi Barre and his entourage.
“Cleanliness is half of faith. The rubbish left here could pose a health risk to the general public, particularly young children who play in the area. I ask government officials to please clean up your waste,” Salad said in her viral video.
Soon after the video was published, armed Nisa officers entered Salad’s family home and took her away. Her frightened relatives raised the alarm, and fellow journalists quickly reported the incident online.
Nisa has a notorious reputation, with many of its officers being former militants. Three months earlier, another female journalist, Shukri Aabi Abdi, was dragged and beaten in Mogadishu by Nisa officers while covering protests against forced evictions. Her camera operator, Ali Hassan Guure of Risaala Media Corporation, was arrested, and their footage was deleted.
Unlike Abdi, Salad was not physically harmed. Later that day, her sister found her in a police station cell in the Wardhiigley district. She was released without charge but was forced to delete the video of the rubbish as a condition of her freedom.
“My family told me to accept their demands because they would not release me otherwise,” Salad told Index.
Freedom of expression at risk
At the Somali Journalists Syndicate (SJS), we track deleted content from journalists and, when possible, republish it as evidence in our ongoing documentation of media freedom violations in the country, so we have now reposted Salad’s clip.
These incidents highlight the deteriorating state of freedom of expression in the country. In Somaliland, a northern Somali region that declared independence in 1991, authorities shut down the privately-owned Universal TV on 12 February, accusing the station of “violating an agreement” with the government and breaching “Somaliland’s nationhood”. The Ministry of Information, Culture and National Guidance ordered all cable networks to remove Universal TV, banned the use of its logo, and instructed local advertisers to cancel their contracts with the station. Universal TV remains closed.
Later in February, the governor of Somaliland’s Togdheer region ordered the arrest of three journalists in Burao – Said Ali Osman of Sky Cable TV, Ayanle Ige Duale of Sahan TV and Abdiasis Saleban Sulub of KF Media – after they reported on his ties to local clan militias and the destruction of a water reservoir belonging to herders near Burao.
Freedom of expression in Somalia remains highly restricted and dangerous to navigate due to government repression, threats from armed groups and impunity for crimes against journalists. Killings and attacks on journalists rarely lead to justice, as perpetrators – whether government officials, security forces or militants – are almost never held to account.
The situation for journalists is getting worse. In March, police in Mogadishu arrested 19 journalists from both local and international media – the largest number yet in a single day in Somalia. They were rounded up onto a truck and taken to a police station, where their camera equipment was confiscated and their footage was deleted before they were released.
They had been covering the aftermath of an al-Shabaab bomb attack on President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s convoy just outside the presidential palace on 18 March. Following the arrests, police also raided the local radio station, Risaala, due to its coverage of the bomb attack. Armed officers stormed in and shut down the radio transmitters, arresting five journalists.
CCTV footage from the radio station’s offices showed the police forcing their way into the building before taking the journalists into custody. They were released the same day after being warned that they “should not say anything about insecurity”.
What is even more troubling than the raid itself is that the police commander who led it is a former al-Shabaab terrorist commander who defected to the government and was later promoted to a position of authority in Mogadishu.
While the president survived the al-Shabaab bomb attack, several civilians were killed, including journalist Mohamed Abukar Dabaashe, whom I mentored when he was a trainee at Radio Risaala, where I was chief editor in 2011.
Aged only 31, Dabaashe was in his home when the massive bomb exploded, causing the entire building to collapse. His body was found hours later. He was laid to rest the following day, as family and colleagues, overcome with grief, gathered at Madina Hospital.
Threats growing
As always, hope for accountability for the young journalist’s murder has faded away. When al-Shabaab bombs kill civilians, including journalists, and the government also targets them, accountability becomes impossible. Those brave enough to continue reporting face threats from all sides.
These threats are only intensifying. Between 22 and 24 May, 15 journalists were arrested in 48 hours, with the SJS recording a disturbing spike in arbitrary detentions, equipment confiscation and the obstruction of media workers by security forces. On 25 May, a media worker for the privately-owned Mogadishu television network Astaan TV was also killed – Abdifatah Abdi Osman was riding his motorbike on his way to work when he was shot by a hotel security guard.
When physical violence or criminal prosecutions are not used, legal and financial threats can be. I have faced legal threats for writing critically about a Somalia-based bank linked to the president.
The threats against me, which began in January, are part of the long-term persecution I have endured as a journalist and secretary-general of the SJS. A London-based law firm working on behalf of the bank threatened to sue me if I did not delete my social media posts and issue the bank an apology. The same bank, which has ties to the Somali government, has previously targeted both me and SJS, at one point freezing the SJS’s bank accounts and blocking its funding.
Somalian journalists face assaults from the authorities, opposition and militant groups, and big businesses. Under this constant attack, it increasingly feels that we have little recourse.
25 Aug 2025 | Asia and Pacific, China, News and features, Volume 54.02 Summer 2025
This article first appeared in Volume 54, Issue 2 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled Land of the Free?: Trump’s war on speech at home and abroad, published on 21 July 2025. Read more about the issue here.
It was late one night in September, but the Beijing subway was still noisy and crowded. Most of the passengers were young commuters returning home from work. Ken was sitting in a corner of the carriage and didn’t know exactly how it happened.
“It seemed like someone standing in the middle of the carriage began to sing and some others joined him,” Ken said. “By the time I noticed it, half of the passengers were singing together.”
The song was called “I Finally Believed in Fate”. A video later circulated online with subtitles, although these differed from what they sang, Ken recalled. Ken and I are chatting over Signal, myself in Australia and Ken still in Beijing. “Such songs are called depressing songs. It is all about frustration and pain,” he said. “But there’s no one to blame and nothing that can be done.”
I’m tired of the unfairness of the world
I’m tired of false love
I’ve broken the vinegar bottle of life
There’s so much pain in my heart
I’m all alone in a foreign land
Who can I tell my heart to?
I dried my tears and my heart broke
I finally believed in fate
In recent years, such things happen frequently, perhaps out of a momentary burst of emotion, or possibly a planned action. Many songs are sung, including “I Finally Believed in Fate”, or “People Without Dreams Won’t Be Sad” or “When I’m Done With All This Suffering”. These songs are popular among young people, but cannot reach the top of the charts because they mostly express “negative emotions” that the Chinese government does not like: frustration, pain and a sense of powerlessness that “no matter what I do, I can’t change my destiny.”
The voice of youth
This is a small yet important entry point to gain insight into Chinese lives. These songs illustrate the real feelings of the younger generation, and prove that discontent and anger are growing. To avoid censorship, these songs employ semantic ambiguities like “the earth” or “the world”. It’s not difficult to see where their anger is directed: the government. When they gather on platforms and in carriages to sing, it is not just to complain; it is a form of resistance. It is far from shaking Beijing’s rule, but enough to fissure the iron wall through which a little light can shine.
Listening to these songs was a new experience for me. I was born in 1974, not long before Mao Zedong’s death and the end of the Cultural Revolution. Several years later, the country turned its eyes from “class struggle” to making money. I witnessed the so-called “Chinese Miracle” over the next four decades. Although it was still a communist country, our incomes rose, and China became the world factory. Countless skyscrapers were built, and almost everyone had a smartphone. At the same time we still didn’t have the right to vote or much freedom of expression.
We have sung countless songs over the past four decades, including the cringe-worthy “O Party, My Dear Mom” and “The Sun the Reddest, Chairman Mao the Dearest”. Even decades on from Chairman Mao’s passing, this song can be heard anytime and anywhere in China. But the most popular songs are, unsurprisingly, positive and uplifting. We sang “Tomorrow Will Be Better” in the 1980s and “Let our smiles/filled with youthful pride/ let’s look forward to a better tomorrow”. We sang “My Future Is Not A Dream” in the 1990s and “I know/ my future is not a dream/ I seriously live in every minute”. “I want to Fly Higher” was popular in the first decade of the new millennium. “I know the kind of happiness I am looking for/ is up there in the sky/ I want to fly higher”, it went. These songs expressed our true feelings, and also proved that even in this autocratic country, people can still have hope.
Over the years, there have also been many songs of loss and sadness, mostly related to love, homesickness or reminiscence. Brave singers like the rock musician Li Zhi sang “It is the best of times, and people don’t need freedom” to express dissatisfaction with the political system. Li even dared to go near Tiananmen: “Now this square is my grave,” he sang. “Everything is just a dream.” His music gained traction and suffered the fate of a lot of contentious music that became popular – it was silenced. His channels were blocked from all avenues online. He even briefly disappeared. He’s hardly reaching commuters on the subway today.
Still, try as the government might to control music and use it to channel positivity, it fights against the long tradition within Chinese society of singing songs of despair, anguish and denouncement.
It’s hard to know exactly when the new trend for depressing songs began. Some songs have been banished from social media, while others perhaps never caught on. What is certain, however, is that Xi Jinping’s new era is a major reason for the creation of these songs. Years of anti-market economic policies and the brutal lockdowns during the Covid-19 pandemic have led to the closure of many Chinese companies. The super affluent have fled, the middle class have become poor, and the poor have become penniless. In many cities, it’s now easy to find young people who, unable to find a job and with no clear sense of where to go, end up sleeping on the street.
Laying flat
Xi’s administration has damaged not only China’s economy – it has also destroyed the hope and confidence of the Chinese people, especially of the younger generation. No matter how much the communist propaganda machine boasts, life for young people is getting harder and harder. Job struggles feed into other challenges; it’s difficult to afford a house, raise children, and live a decent life like their parents did, while a single illness can wipe out the savings of many for half, or even their entire, lives. Words like “dream” or “future” no longer inspire and frustration has swept across the country. Tang ping (Laying flat) has become a popular term to reflect a new trend – those who are rejecting the rat race in favour of a more ascetic, monastic life: no house, no car, no children, no falling in love, no getting married.
Against this backdrop, these new songs appeared. “I’ve Been In This World” gained traction in 2022. A year later it was “When I’m Done With All This Suffering”, “So You Said, Sweetness Will Follow Bitterness” and “The Age When Sugar Is Not Sweet”. Then in 2024 it was “I Finally Believed in Fate”, the one sung on the subway.
Probably fearing his work would be deleted, the author of “I Finally Believed in Fate” released a completely contrary version online, with the original “I’m tired of the unfairness of the world” changed to “I realised that fate is the fairest of all!” Unsurprisingly, the new version is not as popular as the old. Anyone who knows China well can easily understand the concern he felt.
The sound of resistance
In countries like China, protests are often moderate and meek rather than violent, with many people kneeling, crying and pleading in front of government buildings when they are treated unfairly. But even these “kneeling protests” are often met with violent evictions, beatings or arrests. Singing a sad song on a subway doesn’t seem like a risqué thing to do for most, but the young people who composed and sang them have crossed a government red line. The Orwellian Chinese Communist Party (CCP) will not sit idly by. Already many songs have been “cancelled” and many videos of the subway chorus have disappeared. Still, for young people, the loss of jobs, opportunities and hope is more important. Many will not be halted by fear, and will continue to sing the depressing songs rather than “O Party, My Dear Mom”.
In the post-pandemic era, young Chinese people have initiated many unexpected actions: crawling on all fours through campuses in the dead of night, and riding bicycles to another city in numbers of up to 500,000, until the government forcibly stopped it. From time to time, there are extremely tragic actions taken, such as group suicides. And let’s not forget the famous “White Paper Revolution”, in which many young people took to the streets holding up blank sheets of paper to express their unspeakable anger. Because of this, Xi’s regime ended its brutal Covid-zero policy in an undignified and haphazard manner.
Like these actions, composing depressing songs and singing them in public places is a way for young people to demonstrate their will to resist, and this resistance will not stop because of the government’s intimidation and repression.
Ken lives alone in a small room in a rented apartment beyond Beijing’s 5th Ring Road, on the outskirts of the city. He doesn’t have many friends and desperately wants to fall in love. He’s now ready to leave Beijing because he feels “too tired and couldn’t realise any dreams”. But what he saw and heard on the subway last September inspired him. He’s now writing his own melancholy song called “May Every Good Person Have a Good Death”. Although it’s still inchoate, he hopes to find someone to compose the music for it and post it online so that more people can hear his voice.
He expands on how much the scene on the subway touched him. “I almost missed my station, and I kept thinking about it. I used to feel lonely, and even had a thought that death might be an easier way to live, but at that moment, I suddenly realised that I wasn’t that lonely.” A hint of a smile appears on Ken’s face. “I still have comrades – many, many comrades.”
