A new report from civil rights group GreatFire has revealed that Apple acts on virtually every takedown request it receives from the Chinese and Russian governments for apps in its App Store, a far higher compliance rate than with requests from other governments.
The report, Taken Down: A Look into Apple’s Transparency, is published this month as part of GreatFire’s AppleCensorship campaign. Written in collaboration with Apple whistleblower Ashley Gjovik, it reveals that the tech company receives an app “takedown” request from a government every 2.5 days on average and removes an app from the App Store every 16 hours. Overall, Apple complies with 74% of these requests, but in the cases of China and Russia the rate is 98% and 95% respectively.
Apple whistleblower Ashley Gjovik is co-author of the new report
Gjovik, who wrote the report’s foreword, was fired by Apple after complaining about toxic waste under her office. Her case was first raised by Index last year. She said of the findings: “Human rights are not determined by borders on maps, or by borders between the physical and online worlds. Freedom of expression is a fundamental right which must be protected: everywhere. Private corporations should not be allowed to deprive people of their rights, nor should we tolerate off-the-record, backroom discussions between corporations and authoritarian governments. We must demand transparency, respect, and dignity.”
Benjamin Ismail, AppleCensorship project coordinator and GreatFire’s campaign and advocacy director, added: “[Apple] must acknowledge the deeply flawed management of its App Store and start taking the necessary steps to prevent government-led and corporate censorship from depriving millions of users of their fundamental rights to access to information and freedom of expression.”
The report calls for more detailed disclosures in Apple’s Transparency Reports, which simply publish the number of take-down requests and the number of apps removed but provide no further information. There is no information, for instance, about the apps themselves, what laws they are alleged to have breached or the legitimacy of the government requests.
Ashley Gjovik first began to raise questions about toxic vapour intrusion under her office, which, like much of Silicon Valley, was built on polluted industrial land. She had become ill after discovering a similar problem under her apartment block and began to ask questions when Apple staff were asked to return to work after the Covid-19 pandemic.
After a six month battle over the contamination, her contract was finally terminated on the grounds that she had disclosed “confidential product-related information”. This refers to concerns Gjovik raised about experiments carried out on Apple employees involving facial identification and studies of ear canals. Gjovik now believes the corporation retaliated against her for raising her concerns about the risk to her and her fellow employees from the pollution. But instead of walking away she has continued to pursue Apple over its record on safety, privacy and labour rights, both in the United States and Europe.
Gjovik, who was training as a lawyer while working at Apple and now specialises in human rights law, has since taken on numerous cases against Apple. She told Index: “They all focus on one end goal: initiating a serious, global conversation about how to reset domestic and international relationships with these megacorporations. We need to demand transparency, accountability, legal compliance and a workforce that is treated with dignity.”
I regularly start my weekly blog with the exclamation “there is just too much news!” Too much horror and heartbreak and this week the assertion is all too true.
Russia has invaded a sovereign country and daily we are seeing evidence of war crimes on the continent of Europe; China is arresting yet more democracy activists on the flimsiest of excuses; there have been bombings targeting schools in Afghanistan; a neo-fascist is, yet again, in the final run-off in the French Presidential elections; there are riots in Sweden against the far-right with dozens hurt; people are starving in Shanghai under Covid-19 restrictions; there is active conflict again in Jerusalem, with over 150 Palestinians hurt in clashes after a series of terror attacks targeting Israelis in recent weeks; another video of a black man being fatally shot by the police has emerged in the US – Patrick Lyoya was killed, while being held on the ground, defenceless, on 14 April and riots have followed in Michigan.
Our team at Index is working on every one of these news stories. We work with people on the ground, and we commission dissidents and writers, in country, to give us a first-hand account. In the twenty-first century we can speak to people in every corner of the globe, as events are happening, because of the internet and the social media platforms which afford us all a level of protection because of end-to-end encryption. We work with people on the ground who would be arrested, tortured, or even killed because they want to share their experiences with the world. They want the world to know what is happening to them and to their communities. They are on the frontline in the perpetual fight for our democratic right to freedom of expression. They are vulnerable because of who they are and what they want to share with us, whether that’s their writings, their opinions or their art.
They are brave and inspirational and determined to stand up for what is right. For as long as they want to tell their stories there is a moral onus for us to listen to them.
Which brings me to the current proposals to regulate our online lives currently being progressed in the European Union and in the United Kingdom. In Europe, today (Friday) the final negotiations on the substance of the Digital Services Act are underway and, in the UK, the Online Safety Bill began its parliamentary journey on Tuesday. Index is working actively with partners to try and mitigate the worst aspects of both pieces of legislation and we were in Brussels this week to make the case for additional protections for freedom of speech. Our overriding goal is to make sure that our access to those brave dissidents is protected and that our rights to discuss the detail of these horrors are protected. To make sure that while legislators are trying to ‘protect’ us online they don’t end up inadvertently silencing us.
Index advocates for free expression within the protections afforded to us by the European Convention on Human Rights. There is no right not be offended. There is no right not to see things online, or in real life, that will upset you. Of course, we all want to protect each other from seeing the worst aspects of human life – that’s an admirable aspiration but it isn’t the grounds for making new law. In fact, it’s the exact opposite – legally we have protected freedom of expression, it’s a fundamental right. I have written before about our concerns regarding online regulation and in the coming months I’ll be writing extensively on it – but we start with the basic principle – what is legal to say should be legal to type. And that should be the case whatever any new legislation seeks to amend.
Shanghai, a normally buzzing, dynamic city of 25 million, is in week three of an intense lockdown as part of President Xi Jinping’s desire to keep the country “Covid-Zero”. It’s buckling at the knees, so much so that they’ve had to ease measures in some areas. The desperation is in large part due to how mismanaged the lockdown has been. Shanghai authorities’ promises of providing necessities to those confined in their homes have not been kept, leaving many residents starving.
“Pets beaten to death. Parents forced to separate from their children. Elderly folks unable to access medical care. Locked-up residents chanting ‘we want to eat’ and ‘we want freedom’,” ran the lead in a Bloomberg article last week.
As anger bubbles over, the censors are working overtime.
The phrase “buying vegetables in Shanghai”, a video showing mountains of food waste, a post written by Ho Ching, wife of the prime minister of Singapore, calling the Shanghai lockdown “a waste of time, money, resources and opportunities” are just three examples of content that has been censored in the past few weeks in China.
“I am not particularly concerned about politics, and I believe many other ordinary people are the same. Most people just want a safe and comfortable land to live in.” The words of another netizen whose post was blocked. These words speak volumes. Shanghai residents’ desire to post, and particularly post under popular hashtags, isn’t necessarily about making a grand political statement. It’s about a sense of unity at a moment of desperation. It’s a cry for help. It’s a way to pool resources and offer tips.
The intense lockdown, and the government’s response to criticism of it, is deeply disturbing. At the same time it follows a depressingly familiar pattern. Beijing has been pursuing a draconian Covid control policy from the start and censorship has been the government’s bedfellow. Remember Li Wenliang, the Covid doctor who was hunted down for blowing the whistle on the virus?
The censorship we are seeing fits perfectly into the Chinese model that only allows for minimal criticism of policy from the top. And the posts, while not always directly pointed at senior leaders, clash with what they fear the most – collective action. As outlined in 2012 by a Harvard study of Chinese censorship any posts with a hint of collective intent are targeted. One example in this study came from Zhejiang Province. There, following the Japanese earthquake and the subsequent meltdown of the Fukushima nuclear plant, a rumour spread that iodine in salt would counteract radiation exposure. To offset a hectic dash to buy salt, all online content was removed. Yesterday’s iodine in salt is today’s vegetables in Shanghai.
Many are now too scared to speak online about their situation in case they get the dreaded knock on the door. They know the internet police are watching. Some have made the brave move to switch on a VPN, even though VPNs are banned in China. They really want to know exactly what is happening in their city, outside of their own four walls. Who can blame them? By this stage it’s confusing to even know what is happening in Shanghai on a purely clinical level because we simply can’t trust the numbers. Just how many people are currently ill? How effective is the Chinese vaccine against Omicron, and other variants for that matter? The official line says vaccine uptake among the most vulnerable has been low. Exactly how low?
Without knowledge of the real stats, it’s hard to see justification for the lockdown and harder still justification for such an extreme one. As for the blocking of posts related to it that’s condemnable no matter the content or circumstance. Ultimately it feels like we are watching an elaborate show of Xi’s stranglehold on the country. Perhaps that’s the point? This though is a view that can’t be shared on Weibo. Or at least not for long.
The story of Index on Censorship is steeped in the romance and myth of the Cold War.
In one version of the narrative, it is a tale that brings together courageous young dissidents battling a totalitarian regime and liberal Western intellectuals desperate to help – both groups united in their respect for enlightenment values.
In another, it is just one colourful episode in a fight to the death between two superpower ideologies, where the world of letters found itself at the centre of a propaganda war.
Both versions are true.
It is undeniably the case that Index was founded during the Cold War by a group of intellectuals blooded in cultural diplomacy. Western governments (and intelligence services) were keen to demonstrate that the life of the mind could truly flourish only where Western values of democracy and free speech held sway.
But in all the words written over the years about how Index came to be, it is important not to forget the people at the heart of it all: the dissidents themselves, living the daily reality of censorship, repression and potential death.
The story really began not in 1972, with the first publication of this magazine, but with a letter to The Times and the French paper Le Monde on 13 January 1968. This Appeal to World Public Opinion was signed by Larisa Bogoraz Daniel, a veteran dissident, and Pavel Litvinov, a young physics teacher who had been drawn into the fragile opposition movement during the celebrated show-trial of intellectuals Andrei Sinyavsky and Yuli Daniel (Larisa’s husband) in February 1966. This is now generally accepted as being the beginning of the modern Soviet dissident movement.
The letter itself was written in response to the Trial of Four in January 1968, which saw two students, Yuri Galanskov and Alexander Ginzburg, sentenced to five years’ hard labour for the production of anti-communist literature.
The other two defendants were Alexey Dobrovolsky, who pleaded guilty and co-operated with the prosecution, and a typist, Vera Lashkova.
Ginzburg later became a prominent dissident and lived in exile in Paris, Galanskov died in a labour camp in 1972 and Dobrovolsky was sent to a psychiatric hospital. Lashkova’s fate is unclear.
The letter was the first of its kind, appealing to the Soviet people and the outside world rather than directly to the authorities. “We appeal to everyone in whom conscience is alive and who has sufficient courage… Citizens of our country, this trial is a stain on the honour of our state and on the conscience of every one of us.”
The letter went on to evoke the shadow of Joseph Stalin’s show-trials in the 1930s and ended: “We pass this appeal to the Western progressive press and ask for it to be published and broadcast by radio as soon as possible – we are not sending this request to Soviet newspapers because that is hopeless.”
The trial took place in a courthouse packed with Kremlin supporters, while protesters outside endured temperatures of 50 degrees below zero.
The poet Stephen Spender responded to the letter by organising a telegram of support from 16 prominent artists and intellectuals, including philosopher Bertrand Russell, poet WH Auden, composer Igor Stravinsky and novelists JB Priestley and Mary McCarthy.
It took eight months for Litvinov to respond, as he had heard the words of support only on the radio and was waiting for the official telegram to arrive. It never did.
On 8 August 1968, the young dissident outlined a bold plan for support in the West for what he called “the democratic movement in the USSR”. He proposed a committee made up of “universally respected progressive writers, scholars, artists and public personalities” to be taken not just from the USA and western Europe but also from Latin America, Asia, Africa and, ultimately, from the Soviet bloc itself. Litvinov later wrote an account in Index explaining how he had typed the letter and given it to Dutch journalist and human rights activist Karel van Het Reve, who smuggled it out of the country to Amsterdam the next day. Two weeks later, Soviet tanks rolled into Czechoslovakia to crush the Prague Spring.
On 25 August 1968, Litvinov and Bogoraz Daniel joined six others in Red Square to demonstrate against the invasion. It was an extraordinary act of courage. They sat down and unfurled homemade banners with slogans that included “We are Losing Our Friends”, “Long Live a Free and Independent Czechoslovakia”, “Shame on Occupiers!” and “For Your Freedom and Ours”.
The activists were immediately arrested and most received sentences of prison or exile, while two were sent to psychiatric hospitals.
Vaclav Havel, the dissident playwright and first president of the Czech Republic, later said in a Novaya Gazeta article: “For the citizens of Czechoslovakia, these people became the conscience of the Soviet Union, whose leadership without hesitation undertook a despicable military attack on a sovereign state and ally.”
When Ginzburg died in 2002, novelist Zinovy Zinik used his Guardian obituary to sound a note of caution. Ginzburg, he wrote, was “a nostalgic figure of modern times, part of the Western myth of the Russia of the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s, when literature, the word, played a crucial part in political change”.
Speaking 20 years later, Zinik told Index he did not even like the English word “dissident”, which failed to capture the true complexity of the opposition to the Soviet regime. “The Russian word used before ‘dissidents’ invaded the language was ‘inakomyslyashchiye’ – it is an archaic word but was adopted into conversational vocabulary. The correct translation would be ‘holders of heterodox views’.”
It’s perhaps understandable that the archaic Russian word didn’t catch on, but his point is instructive.
As Zinik warned, it is all too easy to romanticise this era and see it through a Western lens. The Appeal to World Public Opinion was not important because it led to the founding of Index. The letter was important because it internationalised the struggle of the Soviet dissident movement.
As Litvinov later wrote in Index: “Only a few people understood at the time that these individual protests were becoming a part of a movement which the Soviet authorities would never be able to eradicate.” Index was a consequence of Litvinov’s appeal; it was not the point of the exercise and there was no mention of a magazine in the early correspondence.
The original idea was to set up an organisation, Writers and Scholars International, to give support to the dissidents. It was only with the appointment of Michael Scammell in 1971 that the idea emerged to establish a magazine to publish and promote the work of dissidents around the world.
Spender and his great friend and co-collaborator, the Oxford philosopher Stuart Hampshire, were still reeling from revelations about CIA funding of their previous magazine, Encounter.
“I knew that [they]… had attempted unsuccessfully to start a new magazine and I felt that they would support something in the publishing line,” Scammell wrote in Index in 1981.
Speaking recently from his home in New York, Scammell told me: “I understood Pavel Litvinov’s leanings here. He understood that a magazine that was impartial would stand a better chance of making an impression in the Soviet Union than if it could just be waved away as another CIA project.”
Philip Spender, the poet’s nephew, who worked for many years at Index, agreed: “Pavel Litvinov was the seed from which Index grew… He always said it shouldn’t be anti-communist or anti-Soviet. The point wasn’t this or that ideology. Index was never pro any ideology.”
It has been suggested that Index did not mark quite such a clean break – it was set up by the same Cold Warriors and susceptible to the same CIA influence. In her exhaustive examination of the cultural Cold War, Who Paid the Piper, journalist Frances Stonor Saunders claimed Index was set up with a “substantial grant” from the Ford Foundation, which had long been linked to the CIA.
In fact, the Ford funding came later, but it lasted for two decades and raises serious questions about what its backers thought Index was for.
Scammell now recognises that the CIA was playing a sophisticated game at the time. “On one level this is probably heresy to say so, but one must applaud the skills of the CIA. I mean, they had that money all over the place. So, I would get the Ford Foundation grant, let’s say, and it never ever occurred to me that that money itself might have come from the CIA.”
He added: “I would not have taken any money that was labelled CIA, but I think they were incredibly smart.”
By the time the magazine appeared in spring 1972, it had come a long way from its origins in the Soviet opposition movement. It did reproduce two short works by Alexander Solzhenitsyn and poetry by dissident Natalya Gorbanevskaya (a participant in the 1968 Red Square demonstration, who had been released from a psychiatric hospital in February of that year). But it also contained pieces about Bangladesh, Brazil, Greece, Portugal and Yugoslavia.
Philip Spender said it was important to understand the context of the times: “There was a lot of repression in the world in the early ’70s. There was the imprisonment of writers in the Soviet Union, but also Greece, Spain and Portugal. There was also apartheid. There was a coup in Chile in 1973, which rounded up dissidents. Brazil was not a friendly place.”
He said Index thought of itself as the literary version of Amnesty International. “It wasn’t a political stance, it was a non-political stance against the use of force.”
The first edition of the magazine opened with an essay by Stephen Spender, With Concern for Those Not Free. He asked each reader of the article to say to themselves: “If a writer whose works are banned wishes to be published and if I am in a position to help him to be published, then to refuse to give help is for me to support censorship.”
He ended the essay in the hope that Index would act as part of an answer to the appeal “from those who are censored, banned or imprisoned to consider their case as our own”.
Since Index was founded, the Berlin Wall has fallen and apartheid has been dismantled. We have witnessed the “war on terror”, the rise of Russian president Vladimir Putin and the emergence of China as a world superpower.
And yet, if it is not too grand or presumptuous, the role of the magazine remains unchanged – to consider the case of the dissident writer as our own.
Vladimir Putin tours the Concord factory and meets director Yevgeny Prigozhin, photo: Government of the Russian Federation
The undersigned organisations express their serious concern at the legal proceedings being brought in London against journalist Eliot Higgins, founder of the investigative journalism outlet Bellingcat. The lawsuit is being taken by Yevgeniy Prigozhin, a Russian oligarch who is widely known as “Putin’s Chef” due to his catering businesses and his close ties to Russian president Vladimir Putin.
Prigozhin claims that he was defamed, and thereby caused serious reputational harm, by five tweets published by Higgins on his Twitter page in August 2020. He is suing Higgins not only for the content of the tweets, but for the content of the media articles (including reports by Bellingcat and CNN) that were linked in the tweets. The media articles referred to Prigozhin’s business operations’ tight links to Russia’s Defence Ministry and its intelligence arm, the GRU.
In September 2021, Prigozhin announced via his press office that he had intended to sue Higgins and Bellingcat in the UK but was prevented from doing so due to the sanctions that had been imposed on him. The UK imposed sanctions on Prigozhin in 2020 for involvement in “significant foreign mercenary activity in Libya and multiple breaches of the UN arms embargo.”
However in December 2021, Prigozhin succeeded in serving Higgins with the lawsuit. This raises questions around whether and why Her Majesty’s Treasury gave Prigozhin permission to proceed with the legal action despite the sanctions.
“We believe that the lawsuit that is being brought against Eliot Higgins is a strategic lawsuit against public participation,” the undersigned organisations said. SLAPPs are an abuse of the law aimed at silencing public interest speech. Index on Censorship has filed a media freedom alert to the Council of Europe Platform for the Protection of Journalism and Safety of Journalists.
In March 2022 Discreet Law LLP, which had been representing Prigozhin, successfully applied to withdraw from representing him. They did not publicly give any reason for the withdrawal at the time.
The preliminary hearing in the case is due to take place on 13 April 2022.
Signed:
Index on Censorship
ARTICLE 19
Committee to Protect Journalists
The Daphne Caruana Galizia Foundation
English PEN
European Centre for Press and Media Freedom (ECPMF)
European Federation of Journalists (EFJ)
International Academy Serbia
International Institute – International Media Center
International Press Institute
IFEX
Global Witness
The Global Forum for Media Development
Justice for Journalists Foundation
National Union of Journalists
Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP)
Kateryna Yegorushkina is a Ukrainian children’s writer and publisher from a town close to Kyiv. Here, in our second video on the state of free expression in Ukraine, Kateryna speaks of her own situation as a writer and mother. She also draws parallels with the Second World War: as she prepared to flee the Russian invasion, Kateryna packed letters sent to her grandmother from her sweetheart who died at the front. The author also describes how the conflict has made her stop writing a planned book about “cute animals and their friendships” and switch instead to a children’s book about the war.
There are some images that touch your heart and make you want to weep. Images that become iconic for an event in history. The Tank Man in Tiananmen Square. Rosa Parks’ arrest picture. The picture of Alan Kurdi dead on the beach. The couple kissing on VE Day. Piles of shoes and suitcases at Auschwitz.
These images live in the public consciousness. And a new one joined their ranks this week.
On Monday evening I checked social media just before bed. There was a huge part of me that wished I hadn’t because an image on my feed made me cry.
I saw an image of a toddler in a nappy. Her mother had taken the heart-wrenching decision to write on her daughter’s back. The words give details of who to contact in the event that her parents were killed. Sasha Makoviy, a Ukrainian artist, watching the horror around her felt this was the best way to protect her daughter.
I really don’t have the words to express the horror or fear that that image speaks to.
Images stick with us forever. And the picture of an innocent toddler whose parents are preparing for their own deaths because of the actions of a tyrant will stay with me forever.
Index provides a voice for dissidents. Today we also provide a platform for that little girl and the horrors her family, and many others, are facing as I type.
We stand with Ukraine. We stand with democracy. We stand with peace.
Evgeny Kissin, one of the most famous pianists in Russia, has described Vladimir Putin as a “bloodthirsty criminal”. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/Gkobe
The world in which Index on Censorship was born seems to be reemerging. In August 1968, after the blossoming of freedoms in Czechoslovakia known collectively as the Prague Spring, the Soviet Union invaded the country. Protesters were brutally crushed. Despite the violence and the stranglehold on freedoms back in Russia, eight fearless dissidents took to Red Square in Moscow to demonstrate.
One of the bold demonstrators was Pavel Litvinov, a young physicist at the time. In that same year Litvinov had co-authored a pamphlet entitled Appeal to World Public Opinion, asking those in the west to fight against the suppression of dissent in the Soviet Union. The poet Stephen Spender responded, suggesting the creation of an international committee whose goal would be to support the democratic movement in the USSR. This committee would engage writers, scholars, artists and public personalities from countries like the UK, the USA and also Latin American nations.
This is how Index on Censorship was brought into life, responding to the call of these dissidents and giving them a voice.
More than 50 years later, the USSR doesn’t exist anymore, but Russia has shocked the world with the invasion and consequential brutal war in Ukraine. What remains is the courage and bravery of people and dissidents defying the regime of Vladimir Putin. Below are just six of the noticeable Russian citizens who’ve spoken up against Putin and the war in Ukraine.
Russian artist Victoria Marchenkova, who’s been using Facebook to encourage people in Ukraine to flee to Canada. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/Na4ya
“STOP THE WAR” – that’s what the Moscow-born artist Victoria Marchenkova wrote on her website. Marchenkova works with different styles, but with one thing in mind: approaching the economic situation of the world, international traditions and its heritage. After the war in Ukraine began, she announced on her website that her solo exhibition at a Moscow gallery had been delayed until the end of the Russian invasion. Her exact words? “Please let’s save the world all together. STOP THE WAR”. Very active on Facebook, she has also encouraged people in Ukraine to flee to Canada.[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”2. Evgeny Kissin – pianist”][vc_column_text]The pianist Evgeny Kissin has been an important name from Russia who declared himself against the war. In a solemn video titled Note of Protest, Kissin called Russia’s invasion of Ukraine a crime that has no excuse and also described Vladimir Putin as a bloodthirsty criminal. “Sadly, far from all who initiate criminal wars are punished, but none escape the judgment of history,” Kissin said. The video was published on his Instagram account and was viewed around 100,000 times.[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”3. Mikhail Gelfand – biologist”][vc_column_text]Renowned Russian biologist Mikhail Gelfand is considered one of the most important people in the area of molecular evolution, comparative genomics and systems biology. He was the main person behind a letter signed by approximately 7,000 Russian scientists against the war in Ukraine. It’s a bold move. The Russian president has said that every Russian citizen who questions his invasion of Ukraine will be treated as a traitor and that a necessary self-purification of society will help to strengthen the country.[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”4. Marina Ovsyannikova – journalist”][vc_column_text]
Daughter to a Russian mother and an Ukrainian father, Marina Ovsyannikova is a Russian journalist who had a job on the Channel One Russia TV channel. She gained prominence after she broke into a state-controlled Russian TV news broadcast and protested against the war. As a result, she was arrested and fined, but was released afterwards. Today, while she waits trial for interrupting the news programme, she is very active on her Instagram account. If convicted, she could be sentenced to 15 years in prison. In a recent post on Instagram, she wrote: “I wanted to demonstrate to the world that not all Russian people believe the same and I believe that many people… are against the war.”
This video grab shows Russian Channel One editor Marina Ovsyannikova holding a poster reading ” Stop the war. Don’t believe the propaganda. Here they are lying to you” during on-air TV studio by news anchor Yekaterina Andreyeva, Russia’s most-watched evening news broadcast. Photo: Zuma Press/Alamy
[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”5. Ilya Varlamov – blogger”][vc_column_text]The Russian Youtuber from Moscow has been speaking openly about the war in Ukraine on his Youtube channel, which is focused on analysing politics in Russia. Often critical in tone he has interviewed people such as Alexei Venediktov, the former editor-in-chief of the now-closed Ekho Moskvy. He has more than 3.3 million subscribers, where he’s been publishing videos almost daily. At the time of print, Varlamov had not been detained for his criticisms. He does have some experience of this though; he was briefly arrested in South Sudan after security found the remote control of a drone in his luggage, accusing him of trying to film military activities with the drone.
[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”6. Youri Doud – blogger”][vc_column_text]Born in East Germany in 1986, Youri Doud sees himself as Russian by identity. He’s worked as a freelance journalist and in 2017 he launched a Youtube channel with the purpose of interviewing Russian celebrities. After Russia began its so called “mission” in Ukraine, Doud shared on his Instagram account a song called 100-year War, written by the group Noize MC, which has achieved millions of likes and reactions. The song discusses what artists should do when it’s not within their power to change a political catastrophe which is developing. The conclusion of the band is short and clear: “We have no other choice than to honestly speak up about what is happening. So that’s what we are doing.
I was in Zaporizhzhia on the morning of 12 March. I wanted to get to Mariupol to write an article; I thought that I had to tell the truth from the blocked city. It was my initiative.
I found out that a humanitarian convoy was going to Mariupol. I went to the assembly point but the convoy had already left. I contacted the authorities and asked them if I could catch it up. They replied that I could try. I did not find a personal driver, so I left with another convoy heading to Polohy. We caught up the Mariupol convoy near Vasylivka, and I continued with them.
I came across the occupiers’ first checkpoint in Vasylivka. Russian soldiers thoroughly checked me. They made me unzip my coat and show the contents of my bag. They found a camera and asked if I was a journalist. I confirmed this. They told me that I had no business in Mariupol and that I should return to Zaporizhzhia. They inspected my phone and camera and found nothing. I asked permission to continue with the column. The occupiers did not mind. We stopped overnight in Berdyansk.
We continued our way in the morning but we were stopped near the city limits and we were told to wait for permission. We were waiting for two or three hours by a crossroads where the roads to Mangush, Energodar and Vasylivka go. Rumours started to spread that we wouldn’t be allowed to move.
Cars passed by and a woman from the convoy told us that she had found some local guys who were willing to drive us to Mariupol. When we arrived at the agreed place, the car was no longer there. The Russian military told us to wait and started talking with us.
I stepped aside. I was thinking of returning to the convoy but a Russian soldier approached me and asked me to show him my phone. He told me that he had instructions from above to check me.
He asked if I was a journalist. I did not lie as it could make things even worse. He asked to show him my WhatsApp account and he saw the contact of the security services of Zaporizhzhia. There was a message with a request to publish a video of a Russian soldier who had swapped sides to join Ukraine.
Some other soldiers began to interrogate me. Then they spoke with Metropolitan Luka [a priest of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church]. Luka and other clerics were leading the convoy. When they returned, they said I had to go with them. I was put into a prison van accompanied by four Chechen paramilitaries who took me to the Berdyansk district administration office.
I was met by people dressed in black and wearing balaclavas. They seemed to be very young, less than 30 years old. They started to interrogate me, searching me and inspecting my phone and documents. They told me that I was not a journalist but a spy and a propagandist which I denied. It lasted for an hour. Then, one of them said: “Everything is clear with you”. I realised later they were from the Russian security services, the FSB.
One of the men in balaclavas brought in his commander. When I asked him who he was, he replied: “I am the man. You have two options: you either go to a jail for women or to a Dagestani military base.” I asked them what that meant. They did not explain. Then two men grabbed me, put a blindfold over my eyes and took me out of the room. I was crying, explaining that I was a journalist, that people would be looking for me, and that they would not get away with it. They took me to the local office of the SBU, the Ukrainian Security Service.
I was met by Chechens and Dagestanis who put me in a tiny room with a chair, a table and a window which they closed and told me not to approach it. They brought a blanket on which I slept on the floor. It was light and warm there. I was taken out only to the bathroom. Almost all my stuff was taken. When I asked when they would let me go, they answered, “When Kyiv is taken”. They added “Luka is in charge of the convoy and he refused to take you”.
From time to time, I was interrogated by Russian occupiers.
“We have no conscience. The law does not exist for us,” the FSB guys said. “Ukraine does not exist anymore.”
They repeated this every day.
“If we bury you somewhere here, no one will ever find out. You will be lost forever,” they said.
I had no fear. I knew they were trying to break me. But I felt desperate because I knew nothing about the outside world, and I was not able to do my job.
“We do not fucking care that you are a woman and a journalist,” they shouted.
But I knew the fact that I was a journalist restrained them.
At some point Chechens joined in with the daily moral pressure of the FSB guys. They guarded me and tried to convince me to cooperate.
“They are serious. They won’t let you go for nothing. You’d better to cooperate with them because you are so young. Otherwise, you will stay here forever,” they said.
They added: “We are the power. They are the brains.”
They brought me some food, but I refused. The first days I ate my remaining supplies from Zaporizhzhia. When it was finished, I took nothing but sweet tea. I felt my energy leave me. It was difficult just to get on my feet. During the last visit of the FSB men, I was not able to stand. But I continued to demand my release. When I cried too loud, one of the Chechens hit me and told me that I wasn’t at home, and I should watch my tone.
There were a few empathetic men among them, nevertheless. They came to ask if I was OK, asked me to eat something and begged me not to kill myself.
I asked to be allowed to make a call. They refused. Afterwards, the FSB told me that there would be a neutral interview and then I would be released. I insisted that I wouldn’t lie. They agreed. They brought a camera after a while. They had a prepared text with them, and they demanded I read it. I did not agree with the wording “high probability of having saved her life”. Eventually I agreed to shoot the video and they dropped the previous demands regarding full support of Russian actions and accusations against Ukraine.
Once the video was completed, they took me to another place. It was the local jail in Berdyansk. They refused to return my phone and camera as they considered them “propaganda tools”.
I spent the night in a room with a Russian soldier, who was supposed to guard me. The electricity and heating were cut off during the night. It was very cold. With my flashlight I counted the hours until morning. The soldier told me that the people who had interrogated me were from FSB. He was afraid that I would kill him during the night. He asked me whether I considered them as occupiers. Then he put the Ukrainian flag and the national emblem near me and said: “This is to calm you down. You see, we did not destroy them.”
In the morning, they blindfolded me again. Then they took me out of the jail and showed me the direction to go. I reached the closest bus station and went to the location of an evacuation convoy. I left with them the next day to territory controlled by Ukraine.
I am sincerely grateful to everyone who put in their efforts to find me and release me.
This account was first published by independent Ukrainian news channel hromadske and is published here in English for the first time.
LGBTQI rights. Gender equality. Media freedom. The fate of liberties in Hungary hang in the balance as the nation heads to the polls on Sunday. With a falling currency, a mismanaged response to the pandemic still fresh to mind and a stronger opposition under United For Hungary – a coalition of six parties spanning the political spectrum – the election campaign has been the closest in years. But the war in Ukraine, right on Hungary’s border, has changed its course in unexpected ways. Below we’ve picked the most important things to consider when it comes to the April 2022 elections.
Basic rights could worsen
Since his election in 2010, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban has whittled away fundamental rights in the country to the extent that Hungarian activist Dora Papp told Index in 2019 free expression had no more space “to worsen”.
Orban’s main targets have been people who identify as LGBTQI. Last year, amid global outcry, he passed a law that bans the dissemination of content in schools deemed to promote homosexuality and gender change. Seeking approval for this legislation, Hungary is holding a referendum on sexual orientation workshops in schools this Sunday alongside the parliamentary elections.
Orban also takes aim at the nation’s Roma and immigrants, and has revived old anti-Semitic tropes in his attacks on George Soros, a Hungarian-born Jewish philanthropist who Orban claims is plotting to flood the country with migrants (an accusation Soros firmly denies).
As for half of the population, Orban’s macho-style leadership manifests in rhetoric on women that is dismissive, insulting and focuses on traditional roles. Asked in 2015 why there were no women in his cabinet, he replied that few women could deal with the stress of politics. That’s just one example. The list goes on.
His populist politics have seeped into every democratic institution and effectively dismantled them. The constitution, the judiciary and municipal councils have all been reorganised to serve the interests of Orban. Education, both higher and lower, has seen huge levels of interference. Progressive teachers and classes have been removed. Even the Billy Elliot musical was cancelled after Orban called the show a propaganda tool for homosexuality.
But the media can’t freely report much of this
In response to claims of media-freedom erosion, the Hungarian government likes to point out that there are no journalists in jail in Hungary, nor have any been murdered on Orban’s watch. But as we know only too well there are many ways to cook an egg. Through gaining control of public media, concentrating private media in the hands of Orban allies and creating a hostile environment for the remaining independent media (think misinformation laws and constant insults), the attacks come from every other angle. Orban has even been accused of using Pegasus, the invasive spyware behind the murder of Saudi journalist Jamal Kashoggi, to target investigative journalists.
It’s little wonder then that in 2021 Reporters Without Borders labelled Orban a “press freedom predator”, the only one to make the list from the EU.
As election day approaches the attacks continue. In February, for example, pro-government daily Magyar Nemzet said it had obtained recordings showing that NGOs linked to Soros were “manipulating” international press coverage of Hungary, a claim instantly rejected by civil society groups.
Ukraine War has shifted the narrative, for better and worse
Given Orban’s track-record on rights, it comes as no surprise that he’s the closest EU ally of Vladimir Putin. This wasn’t a great look before 24 February and it’s even less so today, as the opposition are keen to highlight. They are pushing Orban hard on his neutral stance, which has seen him simultaneously open Hungary’s borders to Ukrainian refugees and oppose sanctions and the sending of weapons.
But Orban is playing his hand well. Fears of becoming embroiled in the war appear to be stronger in Hungary than anger at Putin’s aggression, many analysts says. Orban is claiming a vote for him is a vote for stability and neutrality, while a vote for the opposition is a vote for war. He’s even tried to cast his February visit to Moscow as a “peace mission”.
And though he has condemned the invasion, he has yet to say anything bad about Putin himself. Worse still, Hungarian media is blasting out Russian propaganda. Pundits, TV stations and print outlets are pushing out lines like the war was caused by NATO’s aggressive acts toward Russia, Russian troops have occupied Ukraine’s nuclear plants to protect them and the Ukrainian government is full of Nazis.
Anything else?
Yes. Orban met with a coalition of Europe’s far-right in Spain at the start of the year. They discussed the possibility of a Europe-wide alliance. What that looks like now in a post-Ukraine world is hard to tell. We’d rather not see.
Then there’s the fact that Serbia also goes to the polls Sunday. Like Orban, the ruling Serbian Progressive Party (SNS), led by president Aleksandar Vučić, has been unnerved by growing opposition. Also like Orban, they’re close to Putin and using the Ukraine war to their advantage – reminding people of the 1999 Kosovo war when NATO launched a three-month air strike. Orban and Vučić have developed close ties and will no doubt be buoyed up by each other’s victories should that happen on Sunday.
So will the Hungary elections be free and fair?
If the 2018 elections are anything to go by, they will be “free but not fair”, the conclusion of the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), who partially monitored the 2018 election process. That’s the optimistic take. Others are fearful they will be neither free nor fair, so much so that a grassroots civic initiative called 20K22 has recruited more than 20,000 ballot counters – two for each of Hungary’s voting precincts – to be stationed at polling centres on election day with the aim of stopping any voting irregularities.
News from yesterday isn’t confidence-boosting either. Hungarian election officials reported a suspected case of voter fraud to the police. Bags full of completed ballots were found at a rubbish dump in north-western Romania, home to a large Hungarian minority who have the right to vote in Hungary’s elections. Images and videos shared by the opposition featured partially burnt ballots marked to support them. As of writing, no details have been provided of the actual perpetrators and their motives, and Orban has been quick to accuse the opposition of being behind the incident. Either way, it leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
Sir Trevor Phillips and Jonathan Dimbleby. Photo: Mark Frary
First I need to apologise, I should have written this blog last month but events in Ukraine have dominated all of our thoughts. But honestly the Russian invasion has caused the team at Index to not just react to the ongoing war but also think a great deal about our heritage and the similarities between events today and those that led to our founding.
For avid followers of our work it shouldn’t surprise you that the Index family have been delving into our history in recent months. Although we were launched as a British charity in 1971, the first edition of our award winning magazine wasn’t published until 1972. So on Tuesday March 15th we celebrated the 50th anniversary of the first publication of Index on Censorship magazine. And launched our souvenir edition of the magazine – reflecting on the last 50 years as well as looking forward to the new challenges we face.
Given the collective horrors of Covid-19 and Ukraine it was actually a joy to be able to come together. There was birthday cake, the odd glass of fizz and genuinely wonderful conversations with the people who collectively built our organisation. Conversations about our history and Index’s contribution to media, academic and artist freedom around the world during our half century dominated the chat. The extended Index family has made so many contributions to the society we cherish, protecting the core human right of free expression. From campaigning against libel tourism and SLAPPs to publishing the work of some of the most important dissidents of the last five decades.
The highlight of our birthday party was listening to our current Chair, Sir Trevor Phillips, discuss the historic and current challenges to freedom of expression around the world with our former Chair, Jonathan Dimbleby. Their collective contribution to media and academic freedoms are numerous and have been vital to protect these most basic of freedoms both in the UK and further afield.
In the midst of a war on European soil and the likely beginnings of a new Cold War, being able to reflect on our beginnings was both timely and heartbreaking. In the months ahead the professional staff at Index will again be refocusing our work on the areas that led to our founding from Ukraine to Belarus, Russia to China. We never stopped providing a platform for the persecuted in each of these countries but our work will need a renewed focus as we strive to make sure that those being persecuted by increasingly repressive regimes have a voice.
Oleksandra Matviichuk is head of the Centre for Civil Liberties in Kyiv. She recorded this video for Index on Censorship to appeal to the international community to act over Russian abuses of free expression in the Ukrainian territories occupied by Russian troops since 24 February. She is particularly concerned with beatings and abductions of protesters and journalists in cities in the southeast of the country and names Khakova, Mariupol, Kherson and Berdyansk in her powerful testimony.
Index has been working closely with members of the Ukrainian media and civil society since the outbreak of the conflict. It is our intention to build a network of journalists, writers and artists in Ukraine itself and in the diaspora to help keep the outside world informed.
Index was inspired by dissidents in Russia and Czechoslovakia who protested against the Soviet invasion of 1968. We are proud to stand by those who continue to fight for freedom of expression in Ukraine today.
We are currently working hard to ensure that our new website is in perfect working order so we can continue to bring you the latest news, views and content from around the world. You may find that some pages are currently offline or that you are unable to find something that you are looking for. This is only temporary - and we apologise for any convenience this may cause.
Please consider subscribing to our weekly newsletter below, so that you are among the first to hear from our contributors and don't miss anything in future.
Thanks for your understanding.
?
STAY INFORMED.
Be the first to hear from uncensored writers and artists
For over 50 years, Index has published work by censored writers and artists. Subscribe to our email newsletter to get regular updates from our incredible contributors.
Be the first to hear from uncensored writers and artists
For over 50 years, Index has published work by censored writers and artists. Subscribe to our email newsletter to get regular updates from our incredible contributors.
?
SUPPORT OUR WORK
Index on Censorship’s work is only possible because of donations from people like you.
Please consider chipping in to help us give a voice to the voiceless:
