28 Feb 18 | Index in the Press
The default position of politicians and prominent public figures under fire is to blame a free press. On the 80th anniversary of Kristallnacht the Index on Censorship, which monitors attacks on world media, reiterates that freedom of expression is a freedom that benefits all. Recently, it noted that once you accept the principle that only certain voices can be heard, “it can be applied to your voice just as easily”. Read the full article
28 Feb 18 | Europe and Central Asia, Mapping Media Freedom, Media Freedom, media freedom featured, News and features, Turkey, Turkey Uncensored
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Recent developments in Turkey, once seen as a role model for the Muslim world, have shown that concepts such as the rule of law and right to free speech are no longer welcome by the Erdogan government.
With 156 journalists behind bars as of 26 February 2018 and the closing down of more than 150 media outlets by virtue of the state’s of emergency decrees, Turkey is the global leader in suppressing the media. The irony is that Erdogan was once a victim of an earlier oppressive regime in the late 1990s, having been dismissed as mayor of Istanbul, banned from political office and put in prison for three months for inciting religious hatred after he recited part of a poem by the Turkish nationalist Ziya Gokalp at a political rally.
The destruction of the rule of law in Turkey has been in the making since the anti-government Gezi Park protests and corruption probes of 2013. However, the government has made its intentions on the right to free speech crystal clear in the aftermath of the 15 July 2016 coup attempt. Many journalists and writers have been imprisoned over accusations as absurd as spreading subliminal messages to promote the coup.
Some of them — like Die Welt journalist Deniz Yucel — have languished in detention without charge for a year. Yucel was used as a bargaining chip against Germany and was only freed after chancellor Angela Merkel put pressure on the Turkish government. Immediately after he was let out of detention he published a video message in which he said: “I still don’t know why I was arrested and why I have been released.”
Ahmet Sik, another well-known journalist, was imprisoned because of his thorough investigations into the dark sides of the coup attempt. Can Dundar was arrested for publishing about Turkish intelligence’s illegal arms transfers to Syria. He was kept in prison for several months and eventually released on a constitutional court decision in February 2016. He fled the country and currently lives in Germany. Veteran journalists Sahin Alpay and Mehmet Altan, on the other hand, were not so lucky. They had been granted freedom by the constitutional court but a local court refused to implement their release. Recently, the Altan brothers, Mehmet and Ahmed, and another senior journalist, Nazli Ilicak, have been brutally sentenced to aggravated life prison sentences. Examples of the obscene unlawful imprisonment of journalists can go on and on.
The heart of the issue is that Turkish journalists do excellent work. They go to extraordinary efforts to make sure the public is informed about corruption, illegal arms transfers, extrajudicial killings of Kurds and minorities, shady affairs of the ruling party with the judiciary and unanswered questions about the coup attempt. The government doesn’t want to see these issues make headlines, and for defying it many journalists have sacrificed their freedom.
Behind the thin veneer of Turley’s judicial system is the political machine manufacturing countless crimes. After 500 days pretrial detention, Ahmet Turan Alkan, an intellectual and a respected writer, pointed that out by telling a judge: “Your honour, I know you can’t release me because if you decide to do so you will be jailed.”
Turkey’s journalists are faced with a unique problem: if they continue to lay bare the truth for all to see they risk exile or prison. In a normal country, journalists performing at the height of their abilities would be encouraged or rewarded, perhaps not by their governments but by the society as a whole. But not so in Turkey, where the government mouthpieces and politically-aligned media outlets spout the latest propaganda to manipulate Turks. Unfortunately, the majority of people actually believe that most of the arrested journalists are criminals or terror supporters.
This collective hostility to freedom of expression makes Turkey one of the biggest violators of press freedom in the 42 European-area countries Index on Censorship’s Mapping Media Freedom project monitors; one of the lowest ranking countries in Reporters Without Borders’ World Press Freedom Index; and deemed “not free” by Freedom House’s evaluation.
It’s not just journalists. Academics, rights defenders, philanthropists and lawyers also face punishment for carrying out their professional responsibilities on behalf of the public. Disclosing the unlawful practices of those in power is all it takes for an individual to find themselves on the wrong side of the bars. As with Alpay and Altan, a court had ordered Taner Kilic, the chairman of Amnesty Turkey, to be released from detention, but the prosecutor put him back in prison. Kilic and his colleagues are being targeted in retribution for Amnesty International’s work to make the world aware of the inhumane conditions in Turkey’s post-coup attempt era.
The government’s intolerance toward dissenting voices can also be seen in its treatment of university professors, students and others who signed an Academics for Peace petition, which called for an end to violence in the Kurdish region of the country. Hundreds of distinguished academics have found themselves summoned to courtrooms. For taking a stand about the ongoing tragedy in Kurdish cities, the majority of these academics are dehumanised and defamed. They have not only become enemies of the state but enemies of all Turks.
Yes, the government has terrorised ordinary people with the narrative of the “world against great Turkey” and urged them to stand against outspoken figures who are the “spies, traitors and enemies”.
What do the EU and other international organisations do? Mostly expressing their “concern” in different formats such as “great”, “deep” or “serious”. Even the European Court of the Human Rights has not issued a single verdict against Turkey’s post-coup purge which has seen the country become the world’s largest jailer of journalists.
On the same day the Altan brothers were sentenced to spend the rest of their lives in prison, Tjorbon Jaglan, the secretary general of the Council of Europe was on a two-day visit in Turkey. He didn’t utter a single word about their situation. What else could better fit the definition of the “banality of evil” conceptualised by Hannah Arendt?[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1519832159496-f7b69135-ce98-10″ taxonomies=”8607″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
27 Feb 18 | Campaigns -- Featured, Equatorial Guinea, Statements
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Caroonist Ramón Esono Ebalé (Photo: CRNI)
Index on Censorship welcomes the news that charges against cartoonist Nsé Ramón Esono Ebalé, who frequently uses his art to lampoon senior Equatorial Guinea government officials, have been dropped.
“This is wonderful news and we urge the authorities in Equatorial Guinea to release Ramon without delay. The charges against him were clearly spurious and we call on the government of Equatorial Guinea to confirm that Ramon will be free to travel,” said Joy Hyvarinen, head of advocacy at Index on Censorship said.
Esono Ebalé, who had been living abroad since 2010, has been held in prison in Malabo, Equatorial Guinea’s capital, since his arrest on September 16, 2017. He was arrested while he was in the country to request a new passport.
Three days after Esono Ebalé’s arrest, the state-owned TV channel ran a report alleging that he had been arrested for counterfeiting and attempting to launder approximately US$1,800 of local currency found in the car he was driving.
Esono Ebalé was not formally charged until 82 days after his arrest. This prolonged period – during which the investigating judge did not respond to three pleadings or motions submitted by his lawyers – called into question the credibility of the evidence. It also appeared to violate Equatorial Guinean law, which mandates that a judge must charge suspects within 72 hours of arrest, unless the judge recognizes an exception.
The charge sheet alleged that an undercover agent, working on a tip, approached Esono Ebalé to provide change for a large bill and was given counterfeit money in return. The charge sheet also stated that the head of the National Police testified regarding receiving information about Esono Ebalé’s alleged involvement in counterfeiting money and that the false notes were presented to the judge. It included no information as to where the police found the money or other alleged members of the counterfeit ring. The judge refused bail and ordered Esono Ebalé to pay a 20 million CFA francs (US$36,000) assurance to satisfy any fines the court may levy on him.
Cartoonists are frequently targeted by authorities for their work. Malaysian cartoonist Zunar has had his works banned, been barred from international travel and frequently arrested for his work. Indian cartoonist Aseem Trivadi was arrested for sedition in 2012 for a series of cartoons that mocked the government, while Syrian cartoonist Ali Ferzat lives in exile after being brutally beaten by government forces.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”1″ element_width=”12″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1519753879317-fe1d51d9-7d5c-0″ taxonomies=”19377″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
27 Feb 18 | Americas, Honduras, News and features
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Since 1992 Honduran journalist Dina Meza has been investigating corruption and violations of free speech throughout South America, including the murder of journalists in Honduras. A staunch defender of human rights, she has reported on police brutality, murder and conflict from the troubled Bajo Aguán region.
In 2014, Meza was a nominee for an Index on Censorship Freedom of Expression Award in the journalism category. In 2007, she was the recipient of the Amnesty International UK’s Special Award for Human Rights Journalism Under Threat. Meza is the president of the Honduras Pen Centre and runs her own online newspaper, Pasos de Animal Grande, where reports on the corruption of government officials. Her work has also resulted in her and her members of her family to face threats and harassment.
Index on Censorship spoke with Meza at an event at the Law Society in conjunction with the Peace Brigades International in London. The meeting was held for lawyers and free speech advocates to discuss with Meza the state of freedom of expression and conditions for journalists in Honduras.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1519987436170-d4dce70b-2a3b-8″ taxonomies=”482″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
26 Feb 18 | Campaigns -- Featured, Statements
Index on Censorship condemns the murder of investigative journalist Jan Kuciak in Slovakia — just months after the killing of Daphne Caruana Galizia in Malta. Kuciak was known for his investigations on tax fraud among businessmen connected to the country’s ruling party. He and his girlfriend were reported to have been shot dead at his home over the weekend, news website Dennik N reported on Monday, citing the Interior Ministry.
The murders raise troubling questions about the safety of media professionals in the European Union, says Index.
“A thorough and transparent investigation into the murder of Jan Kuciak is extremely important. Index calls on the European Union to ensure that an independent investigation takes place and that the legal process meets international standards” Index’s head of advocacy Joy Hyvarinen said. “Investigative journalism is vital to healthy democracies. In 2017, Index on Censorship’s Mapping Media Freedom platform documented 67 cases in which journalists were targeted with threats, violence and death for reporting on corruption.”
Corruption is becoming a major issue in the EU and neighbouring countries, undermining democracy and putting individuals at risk. Journalists play a key role in uncovering and fighting corruption through their investigations and, as a result, put themselves in danger.
On 16 October the Maltese journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia was murdered when the car she was driving exploded. Caruana Galizia published a number of articles on her blog investigating corruption.
“We need to stop behaving as if threats to journalists’ safety happen ‘somewhere else,’” said Index on Censorship CEO Jodie Ginsberg. “Prominent journalists in the United States get regular death threats – and are becoming used to it as part of their daily lives. Meanwhile, in the European Union two investigative journalists have been killed in less than six months. We need to wake up to this growing menace.”
On 16 August, Parim Olluri, editor-in-chief of investigative website Insajderi, was physically assaulted by unknown individuals outside his home in Kosovo’s capital Pristina. Olluri believes the attack was linked to his work. A few days before the assault, Olluri had published an editorial about corruption allegations against former Kosovo Liberation Army commanders, after which he received a torrent of abuse and threats on social media.
Failure to properly investigate cases and bring perpetrators to justice fosters an atmosphere encouraging further attacks.
26 Feb 18 | Campaigns -- Featured, Equatorial Guinea, Statements
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The trial of an artist on dubious counterfeiting charges, apparently brought in retaliation for drawing cartoons critical of the government, will be a test both of the independence of the judiciary and of free speech in Equatorial Guinea, seven rights organisations said on Monday 26 February 2018. The presiding judge announced that the trial will begin on February 27, 2018, for Nsé Ramón Esono Ebalé, who has been held in prison in Malabo, Equatorial Guinea’s capital, since his arrest on September 16, 2017.
Esono Ebalé, who had been living abroad since 2010, is a cartoonist who frequently uses his art to lampoon senior government officials. He portrays the president and other officials as stealing public money to fund lavish lifestyles and sexual exploits, without any regard for the grinding poverty around them.
“Ramón has done nothing more than ask the questions that the rest of his countrymen fear to ask and his answer was a prison cell,” said Dr. Robert Russell, executive director of Cartoonists Rights Network International. “More should be done to challenge those institutions, interests, and individuals who enable the EG government to operate so far outside the boundaries of law.”
The human rights groups are Cartoonists Rights Network International, Committee to Protect Journalists, EG Justice, Human Rights Watch, International Federation for Human Rights, Index for Censorship, PEN America, and PEN International.
Esono Ebalé was arrested while he was in Equatorial Guinea to request a new passport, accompanied by two Spanish friends. All three were initially questioned together in Malabo’s Central Police Station, but the two Spaniards were released after a short period. The interrogation focused solely on Esono Ebalé’s work as an artist, one of the Spanish friends said. The friend also said that the police claimed that only members of approved political parties are permitted to criticize the government.
Three days after Esono Ebalé’s arrest, the state-owned TV channel ran a report alleging that he had been arrested for counterfeiting and attempting to launder approximately US$1,800 of local currency found in the car he was driving. The report claimed that police had followed him during multiple trips to the country since 2014, although Esono Ebalé can be seen destroying his Equatoguinean passport in a video posted to YouTube in 2012, and he has been unable to travel since.
That same day, the police officer who conducted the initial interrogation summoned the Spanish friend to the station in order to explain that the questions he had asked about Esono Ebalé’s art on the night of the arrest were merely a strategy to get to this other crime and stressed that Equatorial Guinea respects the right to freedom of expression.
Despite this quick turnabout, Esono Ebalé was not formally charged until 82 days after his arrest. This prolonged period – during which the investigating judge did not respond to three pleadings or motions submitted by his lawyers – calls into question the credibility of the evidence. It also appears to violate Equatorial Guinean law, which mandates that a judge must charge suspects within 72 hours of arrest, unless the judge recognizes an exception.
The charge sheet alleges that an undercover agent, working on a tip, approached Esono Ebalé to provide change for a large bill and was given counterfeit money in return. The charge sheet also states that the head of the National Police testified regarding receiving information about Esono Ebalé’s alleged involvement in counterfeiting money and that the false notes were presented to the judge. It includes no information as to where the police found the money or other alleged members of the counterfeit ring. The judge refused bail and ordered Esono Ebalé to pay a 20 million CFA francs (US$36,000) assurance to satisfy any fines the court may levy on him.
“Ramón has been sitting in prison for more than five months and yet the prosecution’s feeble efforts at evidence cannot dislodge the appearance that this is a sham prosecution in retaliation for his biting cartoons,” said Mausi Segun, Africa director at Human Rights Watch. “We hope the judge sees through it and acquits him.”
The case has garnered international attention, particularly from cartoonists, who have mobilized to support him. On February 2, the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights sent a letter of appeal to the Equatorial Guinean government raising concerns that the arrest violates Ebalé’s right to free expression.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”1″ element_width=”12″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1519640893178-7c5eb27e-0fc3-0″ taxonomies=”19377″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
22 Feb 18 | Events
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Watford Palace Theatre is staging a production of Arthur Miller Broken Glass.
Marking the 80th anniversary of Kristallnacht, Watford Palace Theatre’s production of Arthur Miller’s Broken Glass explores the relationship between Phillip and Sylvia Gellburg, a married couple living separate lives in 1938 Brooklyn. While Phillip is obsessed with getting ahead, in a real estate company where he is the only Jew, Sylvia is disturbed by news of Kristallnacht from Germany. In a single night, the Nazis destroyed thousands of Jewish homes and businesses, smashing windows and burning synagogues. Haunted by these images, she becomes ill and is unable to move. Phillip takes her to see the popular and attractive Dr Harry Hyman, whose ‘talking cure’ has unexpected consequences.
One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century, Miller is author of Death of A Salesman, A View From The Bridge, The Crucible and All My Sons. Broken Glass was first performed in 1994. It received the 1995 Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Play and was nominated for a Tony.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
When: Thursday March 15 2018 7:30pm GMT
Where: Watford Palace Theatre, 20 Clarendon Road, Watford, WD17 1JZ (Map)
Tickets: From £13.50 via Watford Palace Theatre
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21 Feb 18 | News and features, Volume 46.04 Winter 2017
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Close down freedom of expression for those you don’t like and you turn them into freedom-of-expression heroes, writes Jodie Ginsberg
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This year marks the 80th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the two-day attack on Jews in Germany. Crystal Night – a glittering name for an evil event – was so dubbed because of the shards of glass that littered the streets after synagogues and Jewish-owned shops and buildings were attacked. Scores of people were killed and tens of thousands of Jews were subsequently incarcerated.
In the decades since the end of World War II, such mass demonstrations of fascism have been rare, but it is chilling to consider Kristallnacht in the light of the 60,000 neo-Nazis who marched openly through Warsaw in November 2017, or the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, USA, earlier in the year in which a counter-protester was killed.
As white supremacists become more visible, and vocal, demands have grown for those who espouse such views to be silenced. And as that happens, the band of people who champion freedom of speech for everyone – regardless of their views – diminishes. The far-right have stepped into that gap, with devastating consequences for free speech and for those who (genuinely) advocate it.
Let’s be clear about this: The far-right are not in favour of free speech. The far-right – the likes of Richard Spencer, who leads a US white supremacist think tank – are in favour of protecting the speech of their own interest group, not the speech of those who oppose them, nor those whose human rights – and very existence – they openly challenge.
But calls from their opponents for Spencer or controversial columnist Katie Hopkins to be silenced has allowed these individuals to set themselves up as the champions and protectors of free speech. And when the only public advocates for free speech are a bunch of neo-Nazis, who wants to defend free speech as a principle?
We must push back. Freedom of expression is a freedom that benefits everybody. The First Amendment is what allowed not only the Unite the Right movement to march in Charlottesville, but gave the thousands of opponents who turned out to vocally oppose the march the chance to do so publicly. Once you accept the principle that only certain voices can be heard, it can be applied to your voice just as easily.
The narrative that suggests publicising the views of the far-right leads directly to much wider violence is steeped in popular narratives, primarily around the Holocaust and the belief that the public airing of such views led directly to Kristallnacht and the subsequent horrors of Nazi Germany.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/4″][vc_icon icon_fontawesome=”fa fa-quote-left” color=”custom” align=”right” custom_color=”#dd3333″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”3/4″][vc_custom_heading text=”Joseph Goebbels, Theodor Fritsch and Julius Streicher were all prosecuted for anti-Semitic speech” google_fonts=”font_family:Libre%20Baskerville%3Aregular%2Citalic%2C700|font_style:400%20italic%3A400%3Aitalic”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
But as prominent Danish journalist and editor Flemming Rose has said, this is based on false assumptions. People argue that if only the Weimar government had clamped down on the National Socialists’ verbal persecution of the Jews in the years prior to Hitler’s rise to power, then the Holocaust would never have happened.
Rose, who famously published cartoons of the Prophet Mohammed in 2005 when he was culture editor of Danish daily newspaper Jyllands-Posten, said:
“Contrary to what most people think, Weimar Germany did have hate-speech laws, and they were applied quite frequently. The assertion that Nazi propaganda played a significant role in mobilising anti-Jewish sentiment is, of course, irrefutable. But to claim that the Holocaust could have been prevented if only anti-Semitic speech and Nazi propaganda had been banned has little basis in reality. Leading Nazis such as Joseph Goebbels, Theodor Fritsch and Julius Streicher were all prosecuted for anti-Semitic speech.
“Pre-Hitler Germany had laws very much like the anti-hate laws of today, and they were enforced with some vigour.”
Trevor Phillips, founding chair, Equality and Human Rights Commission, said at the Battle of Ideas in London 2017: “What we have learnt in the last 150 years is that, ultimately, freedom of expression is the last and only defence of the minority in any society. When they have taken away everything else from you… the last thing they can take away is your voice. That was true about Sojourner Truth, it was true about the slaves in the Caribbean, it was true about the Jews in Europe. People can take everything away from you, what they cannot do, ultimately, unless physically, physically they obliterate you is take away your ability to express your pain, anger, frustration. So the defence of free speech on the grounds that it is somehow an offence to minorities simply flies in the face of every piece of human experience.”
Increasingly, though, I hear the argument that by allowing free speech we benefit only the powerful. That it is a tool that enriches only the privileged. That it is the armour which empowers the far-right and precedes violence, and that, therefore, we must curtail speech to protect those who are persecuted.
This ignores what a powerful and essential tool freedom of expression has been in freedom movements over the centuries: its role in the US civil rights movement of the 1960s or the drive for women’s rights, gay and lesbian rights and religious tolerance.
If we want to counter the persistent and growing narrative that free speech only benefits the privileged, and the far-right, we must raise up those voices who argue the contrary.
Index works with hundreds of writers, artists and campaigners who have experienced persecution as the minority and whose freedom of expression has been repeatedly curtailed. Atheists in Bangladesh who face death for voicing their views in an increasingly hardline Muslim state; political opponents in Bahrain tortured and jailed for criticising the government; gays in Uganda hounded for expressing their sexuality.
These are the voices we need to raise when people celebrate the value of denying speech to those with whom they disagree.
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Jodie Ginsberg is the CEO of Index on Censorship
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”From the Archives”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”89095″ img_size=”213×300″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/0306422013481709″][vc_custom_heading text=”What it means” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1177%2F0306422013481709|||”][vc_column_text]March 2013
Why does free expression matter? Journalists, artists and activists talk to Index about what free speech means to them.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”91052″ img_size=”213×300″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03064227508532452″][vc_custom_heading text=”Striking a balance” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1080%2F03064229208535375|||”][vc_column_text]July 1992
Helen Darbishire believes protecting victims of bigotry from verbal abuse is more likely to drive prejudice underground than to stamp it out.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”89174″ img_size=”213×300″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03064220802306838″][vc_custom_heading text=”Free speech for all” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1080%2F03064220802306838|||”][vc_column_text]August 2008
Aryeh Neier recalls landmark First Amendment case and believes hate speech will take place but will be countered in an effective form.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_separator][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row content_placement=”top”][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_custom_heading text=”What price protest?” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Fwww.indexoncensorship.org%2Fnewsite02may%2F2017%2F12%2Fwhat-price-protest%2F|||”][vc_column_text]In homage to the 50th anniversary of 1968, the year the world took to the streets, the winter 2017 issue of Index on Censorship magazine looks at all aspects related to protest.
With: Micah White, Ariel Dorfman, Robert McCrum[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”96747″ img_size=”medium” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”https://www.indexoncensorship.org/newsite02may/2017/12/what-price-protest/”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″ css=”.vc_custom_1481888488328{padding-bottom: 50px !important;}”][vc_custom_heading text=”Subscribe” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Fwww.indexoncensorship.org%2Fnewsite02may%2Fsubscribe%2F|||”][vc_column_text]In print, online. In your mailbox, on your iPad.
Subscription options from £18 or just £1.49 in the App Store for a digital issue.
Every subscriber helps support Index on Censorship’s projects around the world.
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21 Feb 18 | Bahrain, Bahrain Statements, Campaigns -- Featured, Statements
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Nabeel Rajab, BCHR – winner of Bindmans Award for Advocacy at the Index Freedom of Expression Awards 2012 with then-Chair of the Index on Censorship board of trustees Jonathan Dimbleby
Index condemns the decision to sentence Bahraini human rights defender – and Index on Censorship Freedom of Expression Award winner – Nabeel Rajab to five years in prison. Nabeel’s ‘crime’ was to tweet about torture in Bahrain’s jails and to criticise the war in Yemen. Those are not crimes. Opinions are not crimes.
It is clear from today’s harsh sentence that the Bahraini government simply wants to silence its critics. We must not be silent in response. We urge Bahrain’s allies – and in particular the UK government – to condemn publicly this shameful and unjust punishment and to call for Nabeel’s release.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”12″ style=”load-more” items_per_page=”3″ element_width=”12″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1519203946844-e98cea3b-21c0-4″ taxonomies=”716″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
20 Feb 18 | Guest Post, News and features, Turkey
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”91904″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes”][vc_column_text]Two of Turkey’s most prominent writers, brothers Ahmet and Mehmet Altan, were sentenced to life in prison on Friday 16 February 2018.
Convicted on groundless charges related to the attempted coup in 2016 against the government led by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, these verdicts, the first of their kind, set a devastating precedent for the many other journalists and writers in Turkey who are being tried on similarly spurious charges widely believed to be politically motivated to silence all criticism of Erdoğan.
Since they began last July, I have been present to observe the Altans’ trial and to witness extraordinary violations of due process and the defendants’ rights to a fair trial. They are also emblematic of an unprecedented crackdown on critical voices in a country where the rule of law is in free fall.
The brothers were arrested in the aftermath of the coup attempt under a state of emergency imposed by Erdogan in July 2016 and renewed six times since, which gave him sweeping powers and pushed Turkey closer to authoritarianism. It is hard to overstate the extent of the purge that has taken place: 200 journalists and 50,000 individuals have been arrested. Independent mainstream media have been all but silenced, with over 180 media outlets and publishing houses closed down. Over 150,000 civil servants, journalists and academics, have been summarily dismissed with no effective appeals process or prospect of re-employment. Dozens of the dismissed have committed suicide.
Once arrested, the Altans found themselves in a legal system where the rule of law has been dismantled with terrifying speed since the coup attempt. What judicial independence existed previously was eviscerated as 4,200 judges and prosecutors were summarily dismissed and replaced with political appointees. The legal system itself – parts of which have long been used to judicially harass independent voices – has been transformed wholescale into a system of repression, with the judiciary now playing a central role in the deterioration of free speech and the rule of law itself.
The indictment in the Altans’ case is 247 pages long, and was largely copied and pasted from other indictments, evidenced by a name from another trial mistakenly appearing in the document. The brothers initially faced three consecutive life terms on charges of plotting to overthrow the government, parliament and the constitutional order for their alleged links to a network led by Fethullah Gülen whom the government accuses of orchestrating the attempted coup. These charges were subsequently reduced to just the latter, carrying one ‘aggravated’ life sentence: a sentence without prospect of parole. Like scores of other journalists across the country, the Altans are also accused of supporting multiple additional terrorist groups – groups which are themselves even in conflict with one another.
Throughout the trials there has been scant evidence or detail of the criminal acts the Altans are said to have committed. A key part of the case has centred on their participation in a TV programme on 14 July 2016, the day before the coup attempt, during which they are said to have sent “subliminal messages” to the coup plotters. (In fact, they discussed the fact that there would be elections and that Erdogan might be voted out.) After this “evidence” was ridiculed wholesale in the Turkish media, it was dropped. In a similarly farcical use of evidence, six $1 bills found in Mehmet Altan’s apartment are cited as proof of his support for the coup, though how these could possibly contribute to attempting to overthrowing the constitutional order remains unclear.
Leading QC, Pete Weatherby, characterised the proceedings as a “show trial” in a report for English Bar Human Rights Committee. At a hearing in November 2017, the judge abruptly expelled the entire defence team. Mehmet Altan was left to defend himself with no lawyer present. I had the surreal experience of observing that hearing with his defence team from the court cafeteria via Twitter. On Monday of this week, his lawyer was expelled from court once again, this time for insisting that the recent landmark Turkish Constitutional Court decision on his client’s case be included in the court’s record, to say nothing of it being upheld.
The lower court’s decision to defy this constitutional court decision on Mehmet Altan is itself at the heart of a constitutional crisis unfolding in Turkey. Until 11 January 2018, the constitutional court had exempted itself from deciding any State of Emergency related cases, despite the 100,000 applications pending before it. Then in a landmark decision a month ago, the constitutional court ruled 11-6 that the detention of Mehmet Altan and veteran journalist, Sahin Alpay for over a year constituted violations of their constitutionally protected “right to personal liberty and security” and “freedom of expression and the press”, establishing the way for their immediate release and setting the necessary precedent for the releases of the dozens of other jailed journalists.
In the hours following the decision, however, a criminal court in Istanbul defied the constitutional court ruling declaring the judgement was a “usurpation of authority” and therefore could not be accepted. This language was disturbingly similar to the reaction of the deputy prime minister and government spokesperson, Bekir Bozdağ, who had tweeted this objection to the decision, claiming that the Constitutional Court had “exceeded” its authority.
This political interference was blatantly in violation of the Turkish Constitution, which renders all constitutional court decisions binding on lower courts. The ongoing crisis surrounding the rule of law and separation of powers, which has been growing since the imposition of the state of emergency, has reached its nadir with Friday’s verdict against Mehmet Altan, demonstrating that Turkey’s citizens can have no expectation of an independent or effective legal remedy in their country.
This crisis in Turkey has profound implications for the European human rights system. The Altans’ case, along with those of eight others relating to journalism is pending before the European Court of Human Rights, of which Turkey has been a member since 1954. Their lawyers applied to the European court in November 2016 after continued inaction by the Turkish Constitutional Court and in April 2017, the court accorded priority status to the cases, opening the way for accelerated proceedings. So important are the implications of these cases for freedom of expression in the country as a whole that an unprecedented group intervened before the court including the Council of Europe’s Human Rights Commissioner, the UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression and a coalition of international human rights NGOs led by PEN International.
Since those interventions, however, the European court has been silent. As there is no expectation of independent or effective justice in Turkey, Strasbourg is the last hope for justice for the writers – and indeed, for Turkish society as a whole. And there can be no more urgent cases than these for the European court: they concern individuals who have been detained for over eighteen months, solely on the basis of their writing, that is to say for peacefully exercising their right to freedom of expression and opinion, which is guaranteed under the European Convention of Human Rights, of which the court is guardian.
However, many in Turkey fear that politicking at the highest levels between Turkey and European member states and institutions is delaying this judgement. Indeed it is widely felt that Europe’s relative silence on the journalists cases is provoked by more utilitarian concerns: the EU-Turkey refugee deal for one, military interests in Syria for another. Meanwhile, Theresa May has shown she is more concerned about selling Erdogan fighter jets and securing a post-Brexit free trade agreement than promoting democracy or human rights.
Meanwhile, the European Union and May appear to be sacrificing the very people who have fought for democratic and liberal values in Turkey. One of the great privileges of my time observing these cases over the last 18 months has been to witness historic defences of freedom of expression from journalists in the dock, on trial for their lives for daring to criticise authoritarianism, corruption and human rights abuses. I think of Ahmet Altan’s defiant closing statement to the judge in the prison court this Tuesday, surrounded by 30 heavily armed riot police – “I came here not to be judged but to judge. I will judge those who, in cold blood, killed the judiciary in order to incarcerate thousands of innocent people.”
Europe would do well to take a longer-term view, to uphold the values of democracy and human rights lest we lose Turkey outright to authoritarianism. Political pressure does work: On the same day as the Altans were sentenced, the Turkish-German journalist, Deniz Yucel, was released after a year in detention following talks between German Chancellor Merkel and Turkish PM Yildirim. Political pressure from Germany is also widely credited for the release of ten human rights defenders and Amnesty International staff in October 2017. Much more of this pressure is needed. Other countries like the UK, and political and financial institutions including the EU need to step up and demonstrate the values they profess to hold in their relations with Turkey.
We urge Europe not to abandon the Altans and Turkey’s other jailed journalists. We can only hope for Turkey’s democrats that justice does not come too late. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”12″ style=”load-more” items_per_page=”3″ element_width=”12″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1519806559338-3ec987ef-0828-8″ taxonomies=”55″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
19 Feb 18 | Global Journalist (Arabic), Journalism Toolbox Arabic
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كان ذلك في يوليو / تموز ٢٠١٠ ، عندما كان مصور التليفزيون المكسيكي أليخاندرو هيرنانديز باتشيكو وزميله يغطيان أحداث الشغب في سجن في بلدة غوميس بالاسيو بولاية دورانغو في شمال غرب المكسيك. بينما كانوا في طريقهم من السجن ، أوقف مسلحو كارتل سينالوا سيارتهم ، ظانين أن الصحافيين كانا أعضاء في كارتل زيتاس المنافس.
في ذلك الوقت ، كانت عصابة سينالوا ، التي كان يقودها زعيم المخدرات المعروف “خواكين” إل تشابو غوزمان ، تخوض معركة دامية للسيطرة على طرق التهريب في شمال المكسيك. في عام ٢٠١٠ وحده ، قتل أكثر من ١٥،٠٠٠ شخص في حروب المخدرات بالمكسيك. في مدينة توريون القريبة التي يتحدر منها هرنانديز ، حيث كان يعمل في محطة تيليفيزا المحلية، كانت هناك ٩٩٠ حالة قتل هناك في عام ٢٠١١ ، مقارنة بـ ٦٢ في عام ٢٠٠٦ ، وفقًا لوكالة رويترز.
أجبر مسلحو كارتل سينالوا هيرنانديز وزميله على الخروج من سيارتهم ووضعوهم في الصندوق.
يقول هيرنانديز في مقابلة مع “غلوبال جورناليست”: “أخبرونا أنهم سيقتلوننا لأنهم اعتقدوا أننا نعمل مع الكارتل الآخر”. “أخبرناهم أننا نعمل مع تيليفيزا وأريناهم هواتفنا ومعداتنا وميكروفوناتنا وكل شيء. وأدركوا أننا كنا نقول الحقيقة “.
هذا لا يعني أنهم كانوا في أمان. فلعدة أيام بعد ذلك، تم نقل واحتجاز هرنانديز واثنين من الصحفيين المختطفين عبر سلسلة من مخابئ كارتل سالينوا ، حيث تعرضوا للضرب والتهديد بالقتل. وقد أُفرج عن هيكتور غوردوا ، مراسل تيليفيزا ومقره مكسيكو سيتي ، والذي كان يعمل مع هيرنانديز ، بشرط أن يقدم تقريرا يفصّل التعاون بين المسؤولين الحكوميين وخصوم كارتل سينالوا في منظمة زيتاس في حين احتجز هيرناندز وزميله الصحفي خافيير كاناليس كرهائن.
عندما رفضت قناة تيليفيزا بث تقرير غوردوا ، خشي البعض من أن يعدم هيرنانديز وكاناليس. لكنه تم إطلاق سراحهما. فوفقاً لغوردوا ، فقد قرر الكارتل أن قتل الصحفيين قد يضرهم أكثر مما ينفعهم.
أما هيرنانديز ، فقد هرب هو وعائلته إلى الولايات المتحدة ، حيث مُنح حق اللجوء في عام ٢٠١١. وهو يعمل الآن كمصور في كولورادو ، وتحدث إلى أستريج أغوبيان من “غلوبال جورناليست” عبر مترجم عن اختطافه وهربه. أدناه ، النص المحرر للمقابلة:
غلوبال جورناليست: كيف أثرت الكارتلات عليك كصحفي قبل أن يتم اختطافك؟
هيرنانديز: كان الوضع جيد وطبيعي قبل اندلاع الحرب بين كارتيلات المخدرات منذ حوالي عشر سنوات. كانت توريون بلدة صغيرة في منطقة هادئة. لكن في عام ٢٠٠٧ وصل العنف اليها. كان هناك الكثير من مهربي المخدرات، لكن لم تكن هناك مشكلة لأن الناس لم يعبثوا معهم وهم لم يعبثوا مع الناس. ثم وصل كارتل آخر ، الزيتاس ، من شمال شرق البلاد.
ثم بدأت الحرب بينهم وبين عصابة إل تشابو ، أي كارتل سينالوا. بدأت عمليات القتل والاختطاف… وهذا هو الوقت الذي بدأ فيه الخوف ينتشر بين السكان. كانت هناك أعمال قتل كل يوم. وكانت جرائم القتل تجري بالكثير من السادية. لم يكن الأمر مجرد رصاصة في الرأس ، بل تم قطع رؤوس الناس أو قلع أعينهم.
غلوبال جورناليست: كيف فامت وسائل الإعلام التي عملت معها بتغطية هذه الأحداث؟
هيرنانديز: في البداية ، كان كل شيء على ما يرام. كما نقوم بتغطية الاغتيالات ولا ننشر أسماء الفريق الذي عمل على القصة لحمايتهم. بدأنا في التعود على عهد النركوس (مهربي المخدرات) ، والحرب ، وكمية القتل.
بدأت المشاكل في عام ٢٠٠٩ عندما تم اختطاف ثم قتل زميل لنا، اليسيو بارون، الذي كان مراسل شؤون الشرطة في صحيفة في توريون. عرفنا أن المهربين هم من قاموا بذلك ، لكننا لم نكن نعلم أي مجموعة بالتحديد.
كانت هناك أعمال قتل خارج محطات التلفزيون والصحف. استخدموا “مانتاس” ، وهي قطع من النسيج كتب عليها أن ما حدث لاليسيو سيحدث للآخرين أيضًا إذا لم يلزموا الصمت. لذلك بدأ العديد من الصحفيين بالشعور بالخوف.
غلوبال جورناليست: ما هي القضية التي كنت تعمل عليها عندما تم اختطافك؟
هيرنانديز: أتى صحفي من مكسيكو سيتي يعمل في برنامج يسمى”نقطة البداية”. قام مضيف البرنامج بإرسال أشخاص إلى توريون لتغطية قضية مهربي المخدرات هناك. وصل الصحفي [هيكتور غوردوا] ، لكن بدون مصور لأنه غاب عن الرحلة. جاء لطلب المساعدة من محطة تيليفيزا حيث كنت أعمل وطلبوا مني أن أذهب معه.
كان هدفنا إجراء مقابلات مع رؤساء بلديات المدن الثلاث: ليرغو ، غوميز بالاسيو ، دورانجو و توريون. استغرق رئيس بلدية غوميز بالاسيو وقتا طويلا قبل أن يقبل استقبالنا. عندما تركناه ، قيل لنا أن هناك أعمال شغب في سجن سيفيريسو الفيديرالي.
قررنا الذهاب إلى السجن وإجراء المقابلات هناك. كان هناك العديد من أقارب السجناء هناك ، لأنه كانت هناك تقارير عن إطلاق أعيرة نارية في الداخل وكانوا يبكون وكان هناك الكثير من الاجراءات الأمنية. لكن بوجود الجيش والقوى الأمنية شعرنا بالأمان.
عندما غادرنا [هيرناندز وغوردوا] المنطقة ، كانت الساعة الثالثة مساءًا. وعلى بعد ميلين ، عند إشارة مرور ، تم اعتراضنا من قبل سيارة ، وانطلق بعض الأشخاص بالبنادق ودخلوا الى سيارتنا. وضعوني وزميلي في صندوق السيارة.
غلوبال جورناليست: ما الذي حدث بعد ذلك؟
هيرنانديز: قالوا لنا إنهم سيقتلوننا لأنهم ظنوا أننا أعضاء في الكارتل [الزيتاس]. أخبرناهم بأننا نعمل مع تيليفيزا وأريناهم هواتفنا ومعداتنا وميكروفوناتنا وكل شيء. وأدركوا أننا نقول الحقيقة.
كانوا ما زالوا يقولون إنهم سوف يقتلوننا. غطوا أعيننا بقطع من القماش وربطوا أيدينا وأرجلنا. ثم وضعونا في شاحنة وأجروا بعض المكالمات الهاتفية. لا أعرف ما إذا كانوا يتصلون بـ إل تشابو أو شخص آخر.
في يوم الاثنين [٢٦ يوليو ٢٠١٠] عندما أخذونا ، اتصلوا ب تيليفيزا وأخبروهم بأننا في قبضتهم وأنهم سيقتلوننا إذا استمرت الشبكة في نشر الأخبار عنهم. قالوا إنهم يريدون منا أن نقوم بعمل فيديو على اليوتيوب حيث سنقوم باتهام الزيتاس وحكومة كوهويلا.
سجلّنا فيلم فيديو مدته ١٥ دقيقة يوم الثلاثاء وبثته تيليفيزا في ساعة متأخرة من الليل. في هذه المرحلة ، لم يكن أحد يعلم أننا كنا رهائن غير عائلتي وعائلات الرهائن الآخرين، وتيليفيزا.
غلوبال جورناليست: أي أنهم استخدموكم في محاولة لابتزاز تيليفيزا لبث تقارير من شأنها أن تؤذي الكارتل المنافس؟
هيرنانديز: أرادوا يوم الأربعاء أن نسجل تقريرا آخر [يتهم كارتل زيتاس بالتورط مع مسؤولين حكوميين آخرين]. لكن تيليفيسا رفضت قائلة: “لن نكون مسؤولين إذا حدث شيء لهم ، لأننا [الشبكة] لا يمكننا أن نظل رهائن في يد مهرّبي المخدرات.”
كان من المفترض أن الشرطة تبحث عنا. كنا نتوقع منهم أن ينقذونا. لقد احتجزونا في غرفة طولها وعرضها ٤ أمتار. كنا ثلاثة صحفيين وثلاثة رجال شرطة مختطفين وسائق سيارة أجرة. أي كان مجموعنا سبعة أشخاص. كنا في فصل الصيف وكان الجو حارًا جدًا. أعطونا بعض الماء ولكن لا شيء للأكل. إذا كنت تريد النوم أو الجلوس فكان عليك طلب الإذن. لم نتمكن من الذهاب إلى الحمام ، وكان لدينا زجاجة طلاء وهذا كل شيء.
لقد عذبونا نفسياً لأنهم كانوا يقولون إنهم سيقتلوننا. إذا قام [مهربو المخدرات] بقتلك خلال النهار ، فسوف يتركوا جسمانك في الخارج. و بخلاف ذلك ، فإنهم سوف يخفون جثتك.
ما كنت آمله حقاً ، ما كنت أصلي من أجله هو أنه اذا قتلوني ، فإنهم سيتركون جسدي في مكان يمكن للناس أن يجدوني فيه ويتعرّفوا علي ، وأن لا أنتهي كأحد المفقودين. فهذا سيء كثيرا للعائلات ، أسوأ من أن يعلموا أنك ميت.
كنا متعبين جداً لكننا لم نتمكن من النوم ليلاً لأننا كنا خائفين من أنهم سيأخذوننا ويقتلوننا.
غلوبال جورناليست: كيف تم إطلاق سراحكم؟
هيرنانديز: أُطلق سراح الصحفي من مكسيكو سيتي [هيكتور جوردوا] يوم الخميس [٢٩ يوليو ٢٠١٠]. أخذونا [كاناليس وهيرنانديز] إلى منزل آمن آخر. كنا نشعر بالهشاشة مثل الناس في حالة السكر لأننا لم نكن قد أكلنا أو شربنا ما يكفينا لعدة أيام. لم يكن لدينا أي طاقة. وضعونا في غرفة مظلمة مهجورة تشبه الحمامات. كانت الغرفة مظلمة، ولكن أتذكر أنه كانت هناك صراصير وقوارض فيها.
كان الوقت منتصف الليل ، وأردناهم أن يقتلونا لأننا كنا متعبين للغاية من حالة عدم اليقين. لحظة واحدة أرادوا قتلنا ، ثم لم يفعلوا ذلك ، ثم هددوا بذلك مرة أخرى.
بدأنا الصراخ لأنه كان هناك جيران. صرخنا: ” نريد الماء! نريد الماء!”
حاولنا الهرب ، وحاولنا فتح الباب. وصل شخص ما في شاحنة ، وبدأوا في ضربنا. كل الأشياء التي لم يفعلوها في الأيام السابقة ، فعلوها تلك الليلة. ربطونا بالأسلاك من أيدينا وأقدامنا.
بعد نوبة الضرب ، عاملونا بشكل جيد. أعطونا المياه وتم نقلنا إلى منزل آمن آخر ليلة الجمعة. ولكن كان هناك دم في جميع أنحاء الغرفة حيث تم أخذنا. كان هناك فروة رأس. واعتقدنا أن هذا هو المكان الذي يقومون فيه بتعذيب وقتل الناس.
كان هناك شخص يعتني بنا ، حتى أنه أعطانا ماء … غالون من الماء لكل واحد منا. قلت لنفسي: “أريد أن أهرب ، لن أسمح لهم بقتلي”.
لكنني لم أنجح. كنت أشعر بسلام على الرغم من أنني حاولت (الهروب) على الأقل. كانت تلك اللحظة التي استطعت فيها النوم أخيرًا. لا أعرف عدد الساعات التي نمتها.
في ذلك الوقت ، كانت الحكومة وكارتل إل تشابو على الأغلب يتفاوضان [لترتيب إطلاق سراحنا]. بعد ذلك ، أعادونا إلى المكان الآمن الذي كنا فيه في وقت سابق. كانت الشرطة الفيدرالية هناك ويبدو أنهم كانوا هناك ليتظاهروا بأنهم كانوا يقومون بإنقاذنا – لا أعرف ما إذا كان مهربو المخدرات تأخروا في اعادتنا أو ما اذا كانت الشرطة قد جاءت مبكراً. [عندما تم تسليمنا] قالت الشرطة: “ها أنتم! أين كنتم محتجزين؟ كيف حالكم؟”
كان الأمر وكأنه فيلما. لكننا كنا أحرار.
أخذتنا الشرطة لعقد مؤتمر صحفي في مكسيكو سيتي. قالوا إنهم أنقذونا وأنه لم يكن هناك إطلاق للنار ، وأن المهربين لم يفعلوا أي شيء لنا وأنهم أطلقوا سراحنا لأن [الحكومة] طلبت منهم ذلك.
غلوبال جورناليست:ك يف قررت الذهاب إلى الولايات المتحدة؟
هيرنانديز: أفرجوا عني [السبت ٣١ يوليو / تموز ٢٠١٠] وأخذتني الشرطة إلى مكسيكو سيتي. قضيت حوالي ٢٠ يومًا في مكسيكو سيتي مع عائلتي.
ألقت الشرطة القبض على بعض المشتبه بهم. كانوا في الواقع هم من احتجزونا كسجناء. ذهبنا وتعرّفنا عليهم. لكن كما تعلم فإنه لدى مهربي المخدرات فإن الرجال الذين يحملون السلاح هم مجرد جنود. زعيمهم هو من قام بتسليمهم.
خلال تلك الفترة ، قمت بإجراء مكالمات إلى إل باسو ، تكساس حيث لدي أقرباء. وضعوني على اتصال بمحامي عظيم ، أنقذ حياتي. تحدثت مع زوجتي ومحاميي وقررنا عدم العودة إلى توريون. استقلّيت شاحنة ، ثم حافلة ، ثم مشيت.
عبرت الحدود في ٢٢ أغسطس إلى تكساس بتأشيرة سياحية ثم بدأت عملية الحصول على اللجوء السياسي. في٢٣ أغسطس، بدأ كارتل سينالوا يبحث عني. في ٢٤ أغسطس ، عبرت زوجتي مع أطفالنا الصغار. لم نأخذ سوى حقيبة ملابس صغيرة للأطفال ومجلد يحتوي على كافة الأدلة التي تثبت ما حدث لي، والصور والمقالات في الصحف. ثم طلبت اللجوء في هيوستن.
غلوبال جورناليست : ما هي ظروفك الآن؟
هيرنانديز: الآن أنا مقيم في الولايات المتحدة. أحب أن أتمكن من العودة [إلى توريون] لكنني لا أستطيع ذلك. أنا غاضب من الجميع ، الشرطة و مهربي المخدرات ، لأن أبنائي اضطروا إلى مغادرة منزلنا ووطننا.
أعطاني أطفالي الكثير من الشجاعة. كان من الصعب التأقلم مع ثقافة أخرى. أبنائي الآن يذهبون إلى المدرسة ويتحدثون الإنجليزية. عندما وصلت ، عملت في محطة تلفزيون إسبانية محلية في إل باسو حتى عام ٢٠١٥. ثم عُرضت علي وظيفة في كولورادو. الآن أعيش هناك مع عائلتي وأعمل كمصور. أنا ممتن جدا لهذا البلد لأنني وصلت مع حقيبة صغيرة والآن لدينا منزل ، لدي فرصة هنا.
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19 Feb 18 | Global Journalist, Media Freedom, Mexico, News and features, United States
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]This article is part of Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist’s Project Exile series, which has published interviews with exiled journalists from around the world.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]
Alejandro Hernandez Pacheco
The men from the Sinaloa cartel had made a mistake, and now they were looking to use it to their advantage.
It was July 2010, and Mexican television cameraman Alejandro Hernandez Pacheco and a colleague had been covering a riot at a prison in the town of Gómez Palacio in Durango state in northwestern Mexico. As they drove away from the prison, their car was stopped by Sinaloa gunmen, who mistook the two journalists for members of the rival Zetas cartel.
At the time, the Sinaloa cartel, led by the infamous drug lord Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán, were in the midst of a bloody battle for trafficking routes in northern Mexico. In 2010 alone, more than 15,000 people would die in Mexico’s drug wars. In Hernandez’s nearby home city of Torréon, where he worked for a local Televisa station, there were 990 homicides in 2011, up from 62 five years earlier, according to Reuters.
The Sinaloa men forced Hernandez and a colleague out of the car and into the trunk.
“They told us they were going to kill us because they thought we worked for the other cartel,” says Hernandez, in an interview with Global Journalist. “We told them we worked for Televisa and showed them our phones, equipment, microphones and everything. And they saw we were telling the truth.”
That didn’t mean they were safe. For days, Hernandez and two other kidnapped journalists were shuttled from a series of Sinaloa safehouses, where they were beaten and threatened with death. Héctor Gordoa, a Mexico City-based Televisa reporter who had been working with Hernandez, was released on the condition that he file a report detailing collaboration between government officials and Sinaloa cartel’s rivals, the Zetas. Hernandez and fellow journalist Javier Canales were kept by the cartel as hostages.
When Televisa refused to air Gordoa’s report, some feared Hernandez and Canales would be killed. Instead, they were released. According to Gordoa, the cartel had determined that killing journalists would do them more harm than good.
As for Hernandez, he and his family fled to the U.S., where was granted asylum in 2011. Now working as a cameraman in Colorado, he spoke with Global Journalist’s Astrig Agopian through a translator about his kidnapping and flight. Below, an edited version of their interview:
Global Journalist: How did the cartels affect you as a journalist before you were kidnapped?
Hernandez: It was good and normal before the war between the narcos started about ten years ago. Torréon was a small town in a peaceful region. But in 2007 the violence arrived there. There were a lot of narcos, but there was no problem because the people did not mess with them and they did not mess with the people. But another cartel, the Zetas, arrived from the northeast of the country.
Then the war started between them and El Chapo’s band, the Sinaloa cartel. There started being murders, abductions, kidnappings…and that is when the fear started spreading in the population. There were killings everyday. Murders with a lot of sadism. It was not like just a bullet in the head, people were beheaded or they would take their eyes out.
GJ: How did the media you worked for cover this?
Hernandez: At the beginning, everything was okay. We would cover the assassinations and not include the names of the team who worked on the story to protect them. We started to get used to the reign of the narcos, the war, all the dead.
The problems started in 2009 when a colleague from a newspaper, Eliseo Barron, was kidnapped and killed. He was a police reporter for a newspaper in Torréon. We knew the narcos did it, but we didn’t know which group.
There were killings outside of television stations and newspapers. They used “mantas,” which are pieces of tissue where it was written that what happened to Eliseo will happen to others too if they don’t keep silent. So then many journalists started being scared.
GJ: What story were you working on when you were kidnapped?
Hernandez: A journalist came from Mexico City who worked for the [national] program “Punto de Partida,” or “Starting Point.” The host of the program sent people to Torréon to cover the narcos. The reporter [Héctor Gordoa] arrived, but without a cameraman because he missed the flight. He came to ask for help from the Televisa station where I worked. They asked me to go with him.
Our intention was to interview the mayors of the three cities: Lergo, Durango, Gomez Palacio, Durango and Torréon. The mayor of Gomez Palacio took a long time to receive us. When we left him, we were told that there was a riot in the CEFERESO [a federal prison].
We decided to go to the jail and do interviews. There were many relatives of the prisoners there, because there were reports of shots fired inside and they were crying and there was a lot of security. But with all the army and the security we felt safe.
When we [Hernandez and Gordoa] left the area, it was like 3 p.m. and two miles ahead, at a traffic light, we were intercepted by a car and some guys got out with guns and got in our car. They put me and my colleague in the trunk.
GJ: What happened next?
Hernandez: They told us they were going to kill us because they thought we worked for the other cartel [the Zetas]. We told them we worked for Televisa and showed them our phones, equipment, microphones and everything. And they saw we were telling the truth.
They still said they would kill us. They covered our eyes with cloth and tied our hands and feet. Then they put us in a truck and made some telephone calls. I don’t know if they were calling El Chapo or whoever.
On the Monday [July 26, 2010] when they took us, they called Televisa and told them that they had us and they would kill us if the network continued to publish stories about them. They said they wanted us to do a video for YouTube in which we would incriminate the Zetas with the [state] government of Coahuila.
We did a 15-minute video on Tuesday and Televisa broadcast it late at night..At this point, nobody knew we were hostages besides my family, the other’s families and Televisa.
GJ: So they used you to try to blackmail Televisa into broadcasting reports that would hurt a rival cartel?
Hernandez: On Wednesday, they wanted us to record another report [implicating the Zetas with additional government officials]. But Televisa refused, saying: ‘We won’t be responsible if something happens to them, because we [the network] cannot continue to be hostages of the narcos.’
The police were supposedly looking for us. We expected them to rescue us. They kept us in a room 4 meters by 4 meters. There were us three journalists, three kidnapped policeman, and a taxi driver. We were seven total. It was the summer and it was so hot. They gave us some water but nothing to eat. If you wanted to sleep or sit you had to ask for permission. We could not go to a bathroom, we had a paint bottle and that’s it.
They psychologically tortured us because they were saying they would kill us. If [narcos] kill you during the day, they will leave your body outside. But if not, they hide your body.
What I really hoped, what I prayed for was that if they killed me, they would leave my body in sight so that people would find me and recognize me and that way I would not be a ‘desaparecido.’ That is so much worse for the families, worse than them knowing that you are dead.
We were very tired but we could not sleep at night because we were afraid they would take us and kill us.
GJ: How were you released?
Hernandez: The journalist from Mexico City [Héctor Gordoa] was released on Thursday [July 29, 2010]. They took us [Canales and Hernandez] to another safehouse. We were fragile like drunk people because we did not have food or enough water for days. We had no energy. They put us in a dark, abandoned room like a bathroom. It was dark, but I remember that there were cockroaches and animals there.
It was the middle of the night and we just wanted them to kill us because we were so tired of all the uncertainty. One moment they wanted to kill us, then they didn’t, then they did again.
We started screaming because there were neighbors. We shouted: “We want water! We want water!”
We tried to escape, tried to open the door. Someone arrived with a truck, and they started beating us. All the things they had not done the days before, they did that night. They bound us with wire by our hands and feet.
After the beating, they treated us very well. They gave us water and we were taken to yet another safehouse on Friday night. But there was blood all over the room where we were taken. There was a scalp. We thought that is where they tortured and killed people.
There was a person taking care of us, who even gave us water…a gallon of water for each of us. I told myself: ‘I want to escape, I’m not going to let them just kill me.”
But I didn’t succeed. I was at peace though because at least I tried. That was the moment when I could finally sleep. I do not know how many hours.
At that time, the government and El Chapo’s cartel must have been in talks [to arrange our release]. Next, they took us back to the safehouse where we had been earlier. The federal police were already there. It seemed they were there to pretend it was a rescue – I don’t know if the narcos were late bringing us back or the police came early. [When we were handed over] the police said: “Oh that’s you guys! Where were you detained? How are you?”
It was like a movie. We were free.
The police took us to do a press conference in Mexico City. They said they had rescued us and that there had been no shooting, and that the narcos did not do anything to us and that they released us because [the government] asked them to.
GJ: How did you decide to go to the U.S.?
Hernandez: They released me [Saturday July 31, 2010] and the police took me to Mexico City. I spent about 20 days total in Mexico City with my family.
The police caught some suspects. It was actually the ones who held us as prisoners. We went and identified them. But you know for drug traffickers, the guys with the guns are just soldiers. The boss turned them over.
During that time, I made calls to El Paso, Texas where I have family. They put me in touch with a great lawyer, who saved my life. I talked with my wife and lawyer and we decided not go back to Torréon. I took a truck, then a bus, then I walked.
I crossed the border on Aug. 22 to Texas with a tourist visa and then started the process to get political asylum. On Aug. 23, [the Sinaloa cartel] started looking for me. On Aug. 24, my wife crossed with our small children. We only took a small bag with clothes for the children and a folder with all the proof of what happened to me, pictures and articles in the newspapers. I asked for asylum in Houston.
GJ: How are things for you now?
Hernandez: Now I am a U.S. resident. I would love to be able to go back [to Torréon] but I cannot. I am angry at everyone, the police and the narcos, because my sons had to leave our home.
My children gave me a lot of courage. It was hard to arrive in another culture. My sons now go to school and speak English. When I arrived I worked at a local Spanish TV station in El Paso until 2015. Then I was offered a job in Colorado. Now I live there with my family and work as a cameraman. I am very grateful to this country because I arrived with a small suitcase and now we have a house, I have opportunity here.
With translation by Maria F. Callejon[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/tOxGaGKy6fo”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist is a website that features global press freedom and international news stories as well as a weekly radio program that airs on KBIA, mid-Missouri’s NPR affiliate, and partner stations in six other states. The website and radio show are produced jointly by professional staff and student journalists at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, the oldest school of journalism in the United States. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Don’t lose your voice. Stay informed.” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_separator color=”black”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship is a nonprofit that campaigns for and defends free expression worldwide. We publish work by censored writers and artists, promote debate, and monitor threats to free speech. We believe that everyone should be free to express themselves without fear of harm or persecution – no matter what their views.
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