Big Tech shouldn’t punish women for seeking abortions

This article first appeared in Volume 53, Issue 4 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled Unsung Heroes: How musicians are raising their voices against oppression. Read more about the issue here. The issue was published on 12 December 2024.

Big technology companies have enormous and outsized power. They control what information we can share and how, and demonstrate little transparency or accountability to users about what they are doing. They are too often permitted to set their own arbitrary standards, governing what we can and can’t say on social media, and how and to whom these ever-shifting rules apply. In no area is this more evident than in the battle between those who want to seek out and criminalise women for having an abortion and those who want to protect women’s right to choose.

In recent years, technology has dramatically altered the abortion landscape for women in the USA. It is now possible to order safe and effective abortion pills online and find accurate information about how to use those pills. This represents an unprecedented and world-changing expansion of women’s privacy and freedom. Thanks to improved access to medication, far fewer women will die or be traumatised, despite the US Supreme Court’s 2022 decision to strip the country’s women of federally guaranteed abortion rights. But women’s new-found abortion freedoms are under threat from powerful people who oppose privacy, freedom and safety for women, and corporatists who put business interests above human rights.

With President Donald Trump’s re-election things may be about to become a whole lot worse.

In March 2024, eight months before the election, I attended Visions for a Digital Future: Combating Online Suppression of Abortion Information, a panel discussion hosted by a coalition of rights and safe abortion access organisations including Amnesty International USA, Plan C, the Universal Access Project and Women on Web, along with experts from Le Centre ODAS and Fòs Feminista.

The panellists warned that tech companies were already suppressing information about reproductive health, either deliberately and as a matter of policy, or accidentally, such as when posts containing legitimate medical information trigger filters meant to block other kinds of content. Remedies have been piecemeal. Some organisations have been able to get accounts reinstated after meeting with contacts at Meta, but there is no democratic and transparent way of determining who gets access to vital medical information.

In one very recent case, Meta temporarily shut down the advertising account of Plan C, a group that provides up-to-date information on how US residents access abortion pills online, days before the US election, over claims of “inauthentic behaviour”.

European lawmakers have already taken steps to bring Big Tech companies to heel. They have done so via laws like the EU’s Digital Markets Act, a 2022 law which, among other things, requires large tech companies to get users’ consent before tracking them for advertising purposes; and the European Media Freedom Act (EMFA), which went into effect earlier this year, preventing large online platforms such as Facebook, X and Instagram from arbitrarily restricting or deleting independent media content.

Despite growing pressure from large parts of civil society, the USA has yet to pass federal legislation to meaningfully regulate Big Tech. Under a Trump presidency, the federal government is likely to go one step further and ask tech companies to use the data they hold to assist state and local law enforcement in tracking, prosecuting and jailing women for seeking abortions.

Some of the president-elect’s most prominent supporters are anti-feminist tech executives like Elon Musk, the richest man in the world and an ardent foe of government regulation (of corporations); venture capitalist Peter Thiel, who has questioned the wisdom of ever allowing women to vote; and Blake Masters, failed congressional candidate and chief operations officer of Thiel Capital (Thiel’s venture capital investment firm). All three have either previously expressed personal support for at least some level of abortion restriction or given large sums of money to politicians committed to restricting it.

Knowing it was a liability for him, Trump made confusing and contradictory statements about abortion on the campaign trail: once pro-choice, he bragged about having appointed the Supreme Court justices who overturned Roe v Wade.

By contrast, Vice President-elect JD Vance is an open theocrat who has pressured federal regulators to rescind a Biden administration rule that prevents police from accessing the private medical records of women who cross state lines to get reproductive health care, according to investigative news outlet The Lever.

Project 2025, the 900-plus-page handbook assembled by the right- wing Heritage Foundation and drafted in part by dozens of former Trump administration officials, indicates that a second Trump administration will seek to increase federal surveillance of pregnant people nationwide. They will most likely do this partly by requiring states to report abortion data and cutting federal funding to those that don’t comply. That data could put women and health care providers in serious danger of prosecution and/ or jail time. State law enforcement officials could pressure or compel tech companies to collect and share it.

This has already happened in the USA under a Democratic administration. Facebook’s 2022 decision to comply with a Nebraska police officer’s request for private data enabled the state to try, as an adult, a 17-year-old girl facing criminal charges for ending a pregnancy. Facebook handed over private messages the girl and her mother had exchanged in which the two discussed obtaining abortion pills, according to The Guardian.

The extent of the data Facebook handed over is unclear, but it’s apparent that companies like Facebook’s parent company Meta cannot be trusted to safeguard users’ privacy. Many of the largest tech companies in the world have refused to clarify how they will handle law enforcement requests for abortion-related data. While Meta does not allow users to gift or sell pharmaceuticals on its platform, it does, in theory, allow them to share information about how to access abortion pills, although enforcement of that policy has been inconsistent and non-transparent.

One ray of hope is that there’s a small chance that Trump will retain Lina Khan, Biden’s pick for chair of the US Federal Trade Commission (FTC). Khan has advocated for restraining the tech industry’s power and is seen as a threat. Days before the election, Musk wrote on X that Khan “will be fired soon.” Yet Vance has defended Khan, saying in a recent television interview that “she’s been very smart about trying to go after some of these big tech companies that monopolise what we’re allowed to say in our own country.”

Best known as an anti-monopolist, Khan has brought lawsuits against data brokers trafficking in geolocation data, a crucial bulwark against efforts by anti-abortion prosecutors to obtain women’s private medical data. This is important because in 2023, 19 Republican attorneys general in states that criminalised abortion demanded access to women’s private medical records in order to determine whether they had travelled out of state for care.

Under Khan, the FTC also cracked down on companies that extracted and misused customers’ private data. Browsing and location data of the kind these companies were gathering can provide intimate details of a person’s life, from their religious and political affiliations and sexual proclivities to their private medical decisions. Companies, knowing that most people would object to having this kind of data collected and shared, often hide what they are doing or mislead users about the extent of it.

It’s not yet clear what Trump’s top priorities will be as president, or who will have his ear. On the question of Khan, it seems likelier that he’ll take his cues from an oligarch like Musk than from his own vice president. As Politico recently noted Vance will have “little agenda-setting power of his own” in the new administration. Occasional anti-Big Tech rhetoric notwithstanding, neither Trump nor Vance cares about protecting women’s privacy. If Khan is fired, it’s extremely unlikely that any member of the Trump administration will take measures to safeguard medical data. State and local authorities will have to do everything in their power to pressure or require these companies to clarify why they are suppressing abortion-related content, and push them to fight requests that violate users’ privacy in court.

Authorities should also push or force tech companies to take measures – such as not collecting certain data in the first place or making it more secure – that would make it difficult or impossible to comply with law enforcement requests designed to punish women for exercising a right recognised by most Americans and international law. Failure to do so will jeopardise women’s lives, health and freedom.

 

Joe Mulhall, Solá Akingbolá and Hanna Komar champion silenced musicians

On Wednesday, Index launched its latest magazine issue, Unsung Heroes, with an evening of powerful talks, poetry, and music from Joe Mulhall, Rahima Mahmut, Hanna Komar and Solá Akingbolá celebrating fearless musicians who use their voices to stand up to oppression. The event took place at The Jago in London, bringing together artists, activists, and an engaged audience to honour those who risk everything to make themselves heard.

The latest magazine issue explores the universality of music as one of the most potent forms of self-expression—and how, because of this, it is being silenced worldwide.

The evening opened with a compelling conversation between Hope Not Hate’s Joe Mulhall and Index editor Sarah Dawood. Mulhall spoke in depth about his new book, Rebel Sounds: Music as Resistance, reflecting on the role of music in protest and resistance movements across the globe. The discussion delved into the complex relationship between music, hate speech, and censorship, before Mulhall shared his personal experiences of facing threats from the far right for his work.

Renowned Uyghur musicians Rahima Mahmut and Shohret Nur then took the stage to perform songs that spoke to the attempted erasure of Uyghur identity in China. Nur played a moving solo on the dutar and accompanied Mahmut’s beautiful vocals with the rawap instrument. 

Belarusian poet Hanna Komar followed, dedicating her performance to political prisoners still held in Belarus, including Andrei Aliaksandrau, who had just spent his fourth birthday behind bars. Komar spoke of the fraudulent elections that once again cemented President Lukashenka’s grip on power and reflected on the pivotal role music played in the 2020 protests against his rule. Moved by her words, the audience joined in an act of solidarity, writing letters to Aliaksandrau.

The evening closed with an electrifying performance by Solá Akingbolá and the Eegun Rhapsodies. As Akingbolá paid tribute to the revolutionary legacy of Fela Kuti, the audience danced, a living testament to the power of music to unite, resist and inspire.

 

Bobi Wine still standing up to oppression in Uganda, politically and musically

This article first appeared in Volume 53, Issue 4 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled Unsung Heroes: How musicians are raising their voices against oppression. Read more about the issue here. The issue was published on 12 December 2024.

In Uganda, to be an opposition politician is to be a marked man or woman. You can be taken out of action at any time.

This is one of the lessons that president Yoweri Museveni’s most formidable challenger – the popstar-turned-politician Robert Kyagulanyi Ssentamu, popularly known as Bobi Wine – has learnt.

In September, just weeks before talking to Index, Wine was taken to hospital after the police fired tear gas to disperse his supporters in the town of Bulindo, about 17km north of Kampala. A canister exploded and fragments of the casing had to be removed from his leg.

Museveni, who stormed to power in January 1986 after waging a five-year guerrilla war against former President Milton Obote’s regime, has done everything in his power to bring the democratic process in Uganda to a halt.

He has changed the constitution on two occasions. In 2005, he removed the term limits (which stipulated that nobody could serve as president beyond two five-year terms) and in 2017, he removed the age limit (which stipulated that nobody could stand for president if they were older than 75). He turned 80 this year, but these amendments have enabled him to stay in power almost as a monarch – a point that was made by Joshua B Rubongoya in his 2007 book, Regime Hegemony in Museveni’s Uganda: Pax Musevenica.

Elections are held in Uganda, but they are usually a sham. Museveni is always assured of victory as he appoints the people who preside over elections. He ensures that the police not only intimidate voters but also brutalise opposition politicians, as myriad observers have noted.

Bobi Wine's live music ban

The violence meted out to opposition politicians does not end with elections – it is more or less a daily happening.

In August 2018, Wine survived an assassination attempt when a security operative opened fire on his car, believing that Wine – and not his driver, Yasin Kawuma – was at the steering wheel. Nobody has been arrested for Kawuma’s murder.

Beyond physical violence, Wine has also suffered as an artist through the government’s ceaseless quest to silence him. There’s effectively a ban on Wine’s live music, as he was last allowed to hold a concert in November 2018. Even then, the police first blocked the show several times, setting several impossible conditions to frustrate him. Public venue owners were also intimidated into not hosting his shows.

“Before joining politics in 2017 as a member of parliament for Kyadondo County East constituency in Wakiso District, Central Region, I used to hold at least two major concerts every year – on Easter Sunday and on Boxing Day,” Wine told Index.

“When we attempted to hold these concerts in 2019 and 2020, the military took over the venues. They claimed that I was using music concerts to pass political messages. Ironically, artists who are paid by the regime can hold concerts and pass any political messages as long as those messages are in support of the autocratic regime.”

Wine and his team decided to hold the concerts at his own property, One Love Beach, in Busabala. They also sought redress through the courts, which declared the blockages illegal. But in an autocratic regime the law does not matter if it goes against the official party line, and the ruling was ignored.

“Basically, the regime in Uganda has criminalised my music,” said Wine. “Many radio stations and TV stations hesitate to play our music for fear that the regime might clamp down on them.”

He has been denied access to radio stations on numerous occasions – especially those outside Kampala, where the regime deliberately keeps people in the dark.

“Sometimes, I am plucked out of a radio station even after the programme has started, as happened in Hoima, a city in western Uganda,” he said. “In fact, radio proprietors who have had the courage to host us have faced numerous challenges, including struggling to renew their licences.”

Ugandan radio silence

Sarah Muhindo, managing director of Kasese Guide Radio, confirmed to Index that hosting opposition politicians came with a lot of pressure, including being summoned by the authorities for “guidance” on how questions asked of politicians should be “balanced” to avoid bias.

The message to the radio station managers and owners is clear: “We are watching what you are doing and we are listening to what your visitors are saying.”

However, Wine sees a ray of light even in the dark tunnel of dire circumstances in which he operates.

“With all the censorship and the clampdown on our political activities, many people around the world have picked-up interest in our music and made every effort to look for it online or from other sources,” he said. “While autocratic regimes use censorship to silence critical voices, sometimes it is that censorship that amplifies our voices.”

After Wine did so much to awaken artists as advocates for social justice issues on behalf of the masses, Museveni’s brother Salim Saleh – chief co-ordinator of the government’s Operation Wealth Creation (OWC) – compromised artists and music producers with money and other favours.

This included handpicked artists being given training workshops after the Covid-19 pandemic and cash bailouts, which the OWC denied were being offered. These actions were widely understood to have been a way of dissuading them from working with Wine.
Early this year, Museveni appointed a popular music promoter, Balaam Barugahara, as a minister. It was common knowledge that he had previously avoided working with musicians critical of the regime. In August, Museveni appointed another musician, Eddy Kenzo, as a senior presidential adviser.

Both appointments were widely considered to do two things: reward musicians and promoters who distanced themselves from Wine as a way of weakening him, and send a message that any musician or promoter who is critical of the government can “convert” and become pro-Museveni, reaping the rewards.

Hidden messages

However, some artists such as Ssemanda Manisul (popularly known as King Saha) and Michael Kakande (also known as Kapalaga) have continued to make a stand by releasing revolutionary songs. King Saha’s shows have repeatedly been cancelled, while Kapalaga sings in exile.
Wine continues to sing, sometimes using allegories to disguise his message. Songs such as Kyarenga and Nalumansi, might sound like love songs on first hearing but are intentionally loaded with political messages about oppression, opportunism and liberation.

“You have to use imagery and proverbial language in order to elude censorship, and even possible prosecution,” he said, pointing out that radio stations brave enough to play his songs are more comfortable playing those that have political meanings hidden behind love lyrics.

“For instance, I don’t remember any radio station in Uganda playing Christopher Ssebaduka’s Ogenda, which I redid in the aftermath of the rigged 2021 presidential election, because I was very direct in that song. Our song directed at security operatives, Afande, also faced extreme censorship as the mainstream media was ordered not to play it.”

Wine has been able to use platforms such as YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and X to pass on his message. But the regime imposed a social media tax in 2018, forcing people to pay to use popular platforms to limit “gossip”. This did not deter Ugandans from re-sharing Wine’s songs. Museveni then banned Facebook in January 2021, ahead of the contentious election, accusing the company of arrogance after it removed a network of fake accounts and pages linked to his re-election campaign. The ban has not been lifted, although Ugandans continue to access the platform through VPNs.

Wine is also collaborating with international artists to amplify his message across borders. He and co-singer Ali Bukeni, popularly known as Nubian Li, featured in a single entitled Such A Beautiful Day, released in August by the global World Funk Orchestra. The song celebrates hope and freedom in the quest for a better day – a message relevant to Ugandans. Seeing Wine and Li take part in the song without any police or military officials assaulting them is a reminder that a lot of work needs to be done to ensure that similar artistic freedom prevails at home.

Wine argues that there is nothing that people cannot achieve if they are united.

“This is why General Museveni is investing billions of shillings of taxpayers’ money every year to ensure that artists do not unite. I wish my brothers and sisters would look beyond the small monies thrown at them and unite for the greater cause,” he said.

He concluded by observing that autocrats throughout history have used censorship to try to silence musicians, authors and other creatives, but no amount of censorship ever prevented their inevitable fall.

He said: “I call upon Ugandans and all friends in the international community to do more to support all creatives in repressive regimes. By amplifying their voice and messages, you are playing your part in ensuring that eventual freedom is won.”

Read more of our Uganda coverage

The war on drill

This article first appeared in Volume 53, Issue 4 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled Unsung Heroes: How musicians are raising their voices against oppression. Read more about the issue here. The issue was published on 12 December 2024.

In January 2019, there was a landmark case in British legal history – it was the first time someone received a prison sentence for performing a song.

The perpetrators were Brixton duo Skengdo x AM, one of the brightest acts of the burgeoning UK drill scene. They had already been put under surveillance by the police after they and two other members of rap group 410 were handed a gang injunction in 2018. This was in response to a song they released depicting clashes with members of rival crews. Three young men from those crews were killed that year, but there was no evidence that members of 410 were involved. The Metropolitan Police still classified 410 as a gang, and the injunction prevented them from entering the “rival” SE11 London postcode area, and from performing songs with lyrics that mentioned rival crews.

But at a concert in December 2018, Skengdo x AM broke the injunction. The pair performed one of their more popular songs, Attempted 1.0, which contained lyrics that were regarded by police as inciting violence. Officers discovered videos of the performance online – and in January 2019 the pair were given nine-month prison sentences suspended for two years.

In a statement, the Met said that the injunction was breached when “they performed drill music that incited and encouraged violence against rival gang members and then posted it on social media”. But it was their fans that shared videos, not them. Shereener Browne, a former barrister for Garden Court Chambers, has spent years working on cases involving young people alleged to be involved in gang or criminal activity. She was shocked by this case, particularly given the pair hadn’t posted online themselves.

“So here, they got an order for not doing anything, and then got an order saying that they were in breach of that order for something that they didn’t do! Head blown,” she told Index. “So we’re just... tearing up Magna Carta – every principle of criminal law is up for grabs. And if it was happening to any other group? We would be marching.”

This is a case that Index on Censorship commented on at the time – and it is not the only instance of UK police trying to control the work of drill artists. One notable case was that of Digga D. In 2018, Digga D (full name Rhys Herbert) was convicted of conspiring to commit violent disorder and ultimately sentenced to a year behind bars. He was also given a criminal behaviour order (CBO) which, alongside having his movements tracked, meant he was required to notify police within 24 hours of uploading music or videos online. Additionally, the lyrics of his songs had to be verified and authorised by the police to ensure that they did not incite violence. If they did, he could be sent back to prison. These restrictions meant that police essentially had control over his work, and this will continue until 2025. Digga D is one of the most influential drill artists on the scene, but even he is forced to censor his work under police surveillance.

The Met has been scrutinising drill musicians for a while. In 2019, it launched a targeted initiative titled Project Alpha which scoured social media platforms for potential signs of gang activity in posts and videos by young, usually Black, people. As revealed by The Guardian, the force monitors the activity of young people – primarily young men aged 15 to 21 – online, which it says aims to fight serious violence, identify offenders and assist in removing videos that glorify stabbings and shootings. In many cases, Big Tech is complying, and this policy has led to hundreds of drill music videos being removed from platforms such as YouTube, Instagram and TikTok.

In a Freedom of Information application on Project Alpha, it was revealed that the Met made 682 requests to remove drill songs from streaming platforms between 1 January 2021 and 31 October 2023, with most requests made to YouTube. Another FOI request found that on YouTube specifically, 654 requests for removal were made between September 2020 and January 2022, and 635 of them were granted.

Browne believes that the claimed attempt to tackle gang violence has become a concerted effort to silence drill artists, and young Black men in particular. It amounts to systemic racism, she told Index, with the evidence for this being that other genres of music are not censored or surveilled in the same way.

“It creates a culture of fear amongst mainly young, Black men, and it makes them feel even more disenfranchised, marginalised and silenced,” she said. “Because if you see your heroes – and I think to a lot of these young men, the drill and rap artists that break through are seen as their heroes – being silenced in that way, it’s going to make you angry and frustrated.

“There’s this demonisation of an entire generation of young Black people, and it’s crushing their self-esteem.”

The moral panic surrounding drill music means it has become common practice for lyrics to be used in court as evidence of criminal activity amongst drill artists. Rapping about crime and violence is often seen as an admission of guilt rather than musical storytelling, and even listening to drill music can be taken as a precursor to violent behaviour.

Art Not Evidence is a campaign group fighting against the criminalisation of drill. Founded a year ago, it has collaborated with musicians and human rights organisations to battle against the use of lyrics – and creative expression more broadly – to unfairly implicate people in criminal charges when there is a lack of real evidence. Co-founder Elli Brazzill works in the music industry and has spent time at a major record label with some of the biggest names in music. She noticed how the police began to interfere with the work of drill artists signed to the label.

“I started to see the disparities between the way different artists are treated, and what I referred to as a correlation between the growing popularity of certain rap and drill artists and an increase in police interference and surveillance,” she told Index. One artist who was signed after serving a prison sentence was at risk of further criminal punishment for simply posting online about Black Lives Matter, she claimed.

In founding Art Not Evidence, Brazzill hopes that she can help change presumptions around drill music, from a violent and dangerous genre to a form of therapy and creative expression. “What all the other genres are awarded, and rap and drill music are not, is artistic licence,” she said. “Which is why it comes up in court as autobiographical, as literal, as a confession, as a premeditation to crime.”

Music can be a therapeutic tool. According to the charity Youth Music, which conducted a survey of 16 to 24-year-olds last year, nearly three quarters found that listening to, reading or writing musical lyrics enabled them to “process difficult feelings and emotions”, whilst half said it helped to reduce feelings of isolation or loneliness. “That is what these kids need, especially if you’re in a community where you don’t talk about things,” said Brazzill. “I’m 28 now, and I still struggle to talk about my emotions! When you’re 15, all you can do is let it out like this. I’m pretty sure every artist would say that that is what it is for them.”

Censoring drill music only further ostracises an already-marginalised group, Browne believes. “It’s a group of young men who have fallen through the cracks – very often excluded from schools, put into pupil referral units... they’re not doing their A-levels, they’re not going to university,” she said.

“There are very, very few legitimate ways for them to raise themselves [and] lift themselves out of poverty, and this is one of the few ways that they can do that. That’s why it’s even more cruel for the state to try to shut down those avenues of escape.”

Her point is valid. If these young Black people cannot tell the stories and realities of their lives, and they are instead silenced because their retelling is deemed “too violent” or “glorifies gang culture”, we are depriving them of a crucial outlet, erasing a core element of modern-day British culture and exacerbating the cycle of poverty and crime. And inevitably, this can only lead to prison sentences for some young people. Brazzill recalled the poignant words of one drill artist from a recent podcast interview: “You are really angry, and you don’t want us to make the music talking about our life. But you don’t care if we’ll just go back and have to do The Life."

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