Twelve years ago East Timor, or Timor-Leste, was recognised as the 191st member of the United Nations after a devastating 25-year Indonesian occupation. The fledgling democracy has since faced unprecedented challenges in building and maintaining its infrastructure, institutions and society after a UN-effort to help rebuild the tiny, impoverished island of 1.1m people. Adding to this struggle, the government has recently been criticised after a media law was ratified on 7 May, which seeks to regulate the media by imposing restrictions on journalists.
The legislation requires journalists complete a six, 12 or 18 month internship with a certified media organisation that must be recognised by a government-funded press council. These laws effectively exclude citizen, freelance and student journalists from publishing anything, with the prospect of fines and disciplinary action if they do. Foreign journalists, too, will now be compelled to apply to for accreditation and permission from the same council to report inside the country. Further restrictions are enumerated in Article 17, which states that “The profession of journalism cannot be performed concurrently with the following functions,” listing civil servants, office holders in local authorities, members of political parties, people in public relations and those involved in advertising. Violation of this “shall be punished by a fine of $250-$1000”, more than a month’s salary for most Timorese.
The constitution of East Timor is written with admirable clarity and Articles 40 and 41 enshrine freedom of the press and of expression for all citizens. The Timor-Leste Journalists Union pleaded its concern about the restrictive effect the law would have upon them, recognising the long shadow of censorship implicit within it. They were endorsed from outside by the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), who called “on the government of East Timor to take heed of the concerns raised by its media in developing the country’s new media laws. Any legislation that would limit the capacity of local and international journalists reporting on East Timor also limits the public’s right to know and is of great concern to the IFJ.”
The weekly publication Tempo Semanal is edited by José Belo, perhaps the most eminent and decorated journalist in the country. Belo was rated as ‘one of the top 100 information heroes’ by Reporters Without Borders for his role in documenting the Indonesian occupation and his integral position in building the democratic media in East Timor. He has been vociferous in his criticism of the legislation, saying it “gives excessive powers to a state funded media council with the power to impose penalties that will be used to control journalists.” One of Belo’s exposé led to the imprisonment of a government minister for corruption in 2012, and despite its democratic nature, the country was ranked at 119 out of 177 countries surveyed in Transparency International’s 2013 Corruption Perceptions Index. Indeed, Australian freelancer Meagan Wymes, of The Dili Weekly, another paper in the capital, wrote that “it is incredibly difficult for journalists to access what should be public information through official channels. When it comes to reporting on corruption in any depth, this tightly controlled environment makes it very difficult. For most investigative stories, leaks are required from within the government or public service.”
Belo went further, saying: “It seems to me the Press Council is likely to be police or prosecutor – even judge – for journalists and media.” Having also worked for outside news agencies – like The Associated Press – during the occupation he was naturally concerned that “foreign correspondents who have played a key role in our struggle for independence will not be able to operate freely” alluding to Article 25 of the new law, which requires agencies of foreign media to register and gain permission before being allowed in to report.
It is the contention of the government that the largely unprofessional nature of the emerging media often results in inaccurate and unbalanced reportage, sometimes blurring the distinction between fact and opinion. A regulatory law and mandatory training is needed to increase standards, they argue. This is not entirely unreasonable and Toby Mendel, an international human rights lawyer for the Centre for Law and Democracy, told Index: “It could be useful for the country to pass a media law. As in most young democracies, the press there is just establishing itself and this inevitably leads to a measure of unprofessional behavior.’” Mendel, though, was critical of a number of “problematic” provisions in the law, and specifically noted “the biggest problem is control over who is a journalist, pursuant to Articles 12 and 13, and the fact no one may work as a journalist without being accepted into the profession. This is completely contrary to international standards.”
There are a handful of daily and weekly publications in East Timor and the print media remains quite small largely due to a near 50 per cent illiteracy rate and high publishing costs. Radio is the widest reaching channel of information reaching some 63 per cent of the population monthly, with public TV estimated to be watched by around half. Internet access is extremely limited, though not censored, and reaches around 1 per cent of the population, according to Freedom House. The US-based NGO also rated the country as “partly free” and reported that already “journalists practice self-censorship and authorities regularly deny access to information. The free flow of information remains hampered by poor infrastructure and scarce resources.” The prevalence of two main languages, Tetum and Portuguese, as well as multiple different dialects, further complicates the process and distribution of news and events to citizens. East Timorese NGO, La’o Hamutuk, added its voice to the sceptics, saying that: “Timor-Leste has already gone for more than a decade without a media law and we have not had problems with media and information, During this time, Timorese people enjoyed their right to information and freedom of expression through various media, after nearly five hundred years of repression and censorship.”
This is a nation where around 60 per cent of the population is under 24 years old and where around 40 per cent of citizens live below the international poverty line. After centuries of Portuguese colonialism –then a brief 10 day sojourn of independence- a quarter century of brutal Indonesian occupation followed razing the infrastructure and intimidating the populace of the island. The UN mission here had to effectively re-author the state from ruin and is regarded as one of their biggest success stories, producing a self-determining democratic government.
For the optimist it may be that the passing of this law is a well-meaning, essentially benign attempt to produce more professional standards of journalistic conduct. Though it seems a number of the conditions extend beyond that, bordering on constrictive regulation. A government statement read: “Its purpose is primarily to regulate the activity of professionals, adequately prepared and ethically responsible, so that they can inform the public objectively and impartially and encourage active and enlightened citizenship by the population, thus contributing to a democratic society.” All very well in theory, then, though its imposition in practice could be much more sinister.
The passage of time will determine what effect this law has on the press in real terms and it remains unclear how authoritatively the regulations will be enforced. If this nascent democracy is going to develop properly, an unhindered press will be vital to that process. However, these restrictions could, in potentia, open the door for parliamentary encroachment and censorship, stunting the growth of a nation just embarking on its first experiment in self-rule.
After decades of dictatorship and two years of arguments and compromises, Tunisians passed a new constitution laying the foundations for a new democracy. (Photo: Mohamed Krit / Demotix)
“A model to other peoples seeking reform” said UN Secretary-General, Ban Ki-moon on the successful passing in 2014 of the new Tunisian Constitution. Championing a secular political and legal system following the popular uprisings of 2011, this constitution sought to maintain robust protections of fundamental freedoms. However, the recent creation of the Technical Telecommunication Agency (ATT) threatens to undermine such progress and all in the service of digital surveillance.
Established by decree no. 2013-4506, bypassing parliamentary approval, ATT “provides technical support to judicial investigations into ICT-related crimes”, enabling it to monitor and record online traffic with full access to networks and information held by Internet Service Providers. Many critics of the agency liken it to the NSA; Tunisian Pirate Party member Raed Chammem stated on Twitter “We finally have our own Tunisian law-abusing agency…#NSA-like #A2T”.
The drafting process of the constitution demonstrated the core divergent forces at play in Tunisia. Central to this tension was the positioning of media freedom, most notably in the mandate and impartiality of the High Independent Authority for Audiovisual Communication (HAICA). Articles 122 and 124 reduced the authority to an advisory role as opposed to that of a regulator and required its membership to be elected by parliament. It took concerted lobbying by civil society activists and the National Union of Tunisian Journalists to modify both articles. As stated by Freedom House “the revised language is not just a victory for press freedom and the media sector, but also a triumph for Tunisia’s growing civil society.”
The fight for greater oversight by civil society and regulatory bodies as seen in the last minute amendments to the constitution has not, to date, impacted the creation and implementation of the ATT. The International Business Times wrote that the ATT “fails to properly define the organization’s relationship with judicial authorities, and there is no legal framework for providing civilian accountability”. They go on to quote Tunisian lawyer, Kais Berrjab who states that the ATT represents a “battery of legal irregularities related to unconstitutionality and illegality.”
With an emergent blogger-community, any movement to restrict, monitor or record online content, strikes at the heart of media freedom in Tunisia. Article five of decree no. 2013-4506 outlines that ATT activities will be “secret, unpublished and only sent to the government”. When coupled with the head of the agency being appointed by the Minister of Information and Communication alone, and government plans to exempt the ATT from legal obligations, which exist for all other agencies, in regards to transparency, the prominence of the state raises pertinent questions about the impartiality and non-partisanship of the agency.
The IB Times highlights a key motivation behind the creation of the ATT; the belief “that monitoring the activities of private citizens is essential to counterterrorism effort.” Indeed this argument is playing out across the world, most notably in the US concerning the actions of NSA and the UK with its own GCHQ.
Mounting public pressure to confront recent high-profile assassinations, as well as the perceived threat of Islamic extremism has been highlighted as key reasons for this move towards creating a more investigative body – ATT in all essences replaces the Tunisian Internet Agency (ATI) – however criticism remains as to how it can operate within the legal and political parameters outlined in the 2014 constitution.
In the same IB Times article, Jillian York of the Electronic Frontiers Foundation is quoted as saying, “starting with legitimate concerns about security, the state can then push beyond that and you see surveillance used against political dissidents or just in violation of basic privacy.” Herein lies the central conflict; the last minute redrafting of the constitution established civilian oversight, an impartial regulator and robust protections, but will the ATT, wired to the central government, through the Minister of Information and Communication, undermine such progress, making online participation as dangerous for journalists and bloggers as seen under the leadership of Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali?
The passing of the constitution proved to be a powerful call-to-action for Tunisian civil society, reshaping the government’s relationship with the media and civil society and embedding freedom of media and expression at the core of the legal and political system. But with the establishment of the ATT, Tunisia risks damaging this precedent, undermining the progress, as part of an ill-defined counterterrorism campaign.
The constitution cannot exist outside any effort to counter terrorism; it should, in fact, lie at the core of these efforts. The combatting of militancy and terrorism requires the support and involvement of all sectors of society, including the media and civil society. But if it is the state that strikes the first blow against the ideals and optimism contained within the constitution, will the emergent civil society be able to defend it?
Tuesday’s ruling from the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) said that internet search engine operators must remove links to articles found to be outdated or irrelevant at the request of individuals. Index on Censorship’s CEO Jodie Ginsberg joined Max Mosley on Channel 4 News to debate why the ruling could lead to further censorship and the re-writing of history.
The Brazilian press is “partially free”, according a study made by Freedom House published on 1 May. The study considered the deaths of three journalists in 2013, the attacks on the work of the press in June’s protests, the lawsuits against bloggers and internet companies and a large number of government requests to remove online content. Brazil scored a 45 — on a scale of zero to one hundred, zero being the best scenario.
The attacks and violence are only one side of the threats to press freedom in Brazil. Communication monopolies standardise the views and concentrate the budget and the audience. The leader is Globo Network, which owns more than half of the television advertising market. The concentration of the media and the intimacy of their owners with powerful politicians is identified by Freedom House as “one of the biggest obstacles to media diversity in Brazil”.
Televisions and radios are government grants, and although the law prohibits monopoly, this is a game of power advantageous for both businesses and the government. There are also congressmen who own or control media. Both sides reinforce each other, forming lobbies to protect their fiefdoms’s of versions and truths. Any proposal on communication democratization or regulation is shouted down by these lobbies as an attack on freedom of expression or an attempt at censorship. The Brazilian Telecommunications Code is 50 years old and a target of campaigns of freedom of expression entities.
However, there is not a declared censorship. All the guarantees of freedom of press and information are established in the Constitution and in various laws. What happens is that press freedom in Brazil is fundamentally compromised by political and state interests and private sponsorships, which finance the media. Thus, it is not a lack freedom, but a lack of autonomy.
Since June 2013, hundreds of protests have been shaking Brazil. During many of them, protesters burned cars belonging to the press. What does this mean? The level of dissatisfaction and resentment is palpable. There’s a heartache that turned against “everything-that-is-there”, including how the media covers the facts. The roles of the press and government is being questioned in the streets. Nevertheless, the sound of these voices is muffled in the media.
With the FIFA World Cup, the exacerbated patriotism and the green and yellow colors have taken control over television commercials, selling an artificial enthusiasm. Advertisers such as private banks, state companies, operators of credit cards, the soft drink industry, beers and cars have invested over £350 million for ads on only one station–Rede Globo, the country’s largest. Each advertiser is spending £1.4 million on advertising per day, the equivalent to a daily Super Bowl.
The largest communication network in Brazil has exclusive rights to broadcast the matches and has the official sponsorship of FIFA. Throughout the day, and especially between 8:30PM and 10PM –“the Brazilian primetime TV” –viewers see an exciting commercial film seeking to promote the acceptance of the FIFA World Cup. With the slogan “Somos um só” (“We are all one”), the advertisement shows how television “has the magic to put the entire country on the same vibe”.
The numbers are even more exciting. Only 30 seconds of a primetime ad cost £168,000. There is still the merchandising: the company is the only one licensed to sell FIFA products. About 1,700 items should yield £534 million to the broadcaster. Such numbers do not harmonise with autonomy of content.
Dozens of federal government announcements are also aired on television. One, for example, announces a rich country, with full employment and a promising future. A country with no inflation, social problems or misery-−”A rich country is a country without poverty”, says the slogan, ignoring the economic crisis, electric blackouts, water shortages and strikes. Petrobras ads claim a solid company, with smiling workers, while in practice the company applies a plan of voluntary dismissals and responds to an investigation into allegations of kickbacks.
With an expenditure of £614 million for ads, the federal government was the fourth largest advertiser in media last year; 65% of the total was invested in TV, according to the Department of Communication of the Presidency. The agenda is to suppress the resentment of the people with a shower of advertising. “We love football and are proud to organize the Cup of the Cups. Therefore, all who come to Brazil will be welcomed and will know a multicultural country, with happy and hardworking people”, said President Dilma Rousseff.
Despite the inundation of propaganda, a survey conducted by the Senate in late April found that 76% of the respondents consider that the expenditure on stadiums are larger than necessary; 86% believe that public funds earmarked for the event would have better use in other areas such as health, education and public safety. 42% of the respondents approve of the event, while 40% disapprove – a technical draw. The margin of sampling error is 3.5 percentage points, plus or minus. The research was not even mentioned in the press.
It can be said that freedom of the press in Brazil at this time is restricted. To talk about protests against the World Cup, a journalist must assume a mild tone to avoid displeasing sponsors. Journalists must also prevent the increasing antipathy to the World Cup, which would bring monumental financial losses. The possibility of withdrawn sponsorships generates a cold feeling for the broadcasters and FIFA.
The ball of Brazil is already rolling and it remains unclear what the outcome of this game will be. In the run up to the opening of the World Cup, workers strikes and protests are on the increase in the country. Journalists do not know what people want, but they listen to experts, the police, and the rulers.
Is the Brazilian press partial in the officialism that privileges the voices of the government and the market in exchange for financial benefits, affable policy and high profits?
Caster Semenya and Oscar Pistorius in 2012 (Photos: Jordi Matas / Demotix)
Caster Semenya carried the South African flag at the opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympic Games; Oscar Pistorius waved it at the closing. Sandwiched between them was one medal, Semenya’s silver, one story of triumph over adversity, Pistorius, who is disabled after having both his legs amputated as a child ran with able-bodied athletes and proof that the country known as the Rainbow Nation does have some pots of gold.
Not even two years have passed since then and both flag-bearers have made the news for something other than sport. Pistorius has been on trial for the murder of his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp, who was shot dead on February 14, 2013 while Semenya’s lovelife has come under scrutiny. For both, the glory has turned into an uncomfortable glare with the spotlight shone on their most intimate moments.
The Pistorius trial is a first for South Africa because it has been covered on television in full. All proceedings have been broadcast on a specially-created channel on the satellite service DSTV although witnesses could choose if they wanted to be filmed while giving testimony. After the live feed, the focus would shift to a dissection and analysis of the day in court.
On May 14, statistics revealed the Oscar Pistorius Trial TV Channel was the fourth most watched channel on pay-television in South Africa. It is also the most successful pay TV channel ever launched in the country’s history, employs 180 freelance producers, reporters, researchers and presenters and has attracted audiences at all times of the day, even the traditionally quiet period in the mid-morning and mid-afternoon.
The success of the channel has also led to speculation the upcoming murder trial of Shrien Dewani, the Bristol-based businessman who was extradited to face charges of plotting the hijacking and shooting of his wife, Anni while on honeymoon in Cape Town in 2010, will be televised in the same fashion. South Africans, who live in a country where three women are killed every day by their partners, have shown an appetite for courtroom drama.
During the Pistorius trial viewers were able to watch the athlete retch into a bucket as he heard testimony about the damage the four bullets he shot at Steenkamp caused, to hear him cry on the stand when shown a picture of her bullet-hit head and observe how the legal process takes place. It has even given coverage to the trial in the courtroom next door where a man, Thato Kutumela was convicted of killing his girlfriend Zanele Khumalo, which would otherwise not have made the news at all.
The Pistorius trial has already had one postponement, a two-week adjournment to accommodate for public holidays over the Easter period, but it is now set for a much lengthier one. Pistorius will spend 30 days as an outpatient undergoing psychological evaluation. A psychiatrist called by Pistorius’ defence team testified that he suffered from generalised anxiety disorder from a young age which could have diminished his capacity when he shot Steenkamp.
While Semenya’s mental state has not had reason to be examined, another aspect of her private life, her relationship, has. Earlier this week news broke that Semenya had paid lobola – the traditional bride price which is comparable to dowry – for her girlfriend, fellow athlete Violet Raseboya. When newspapers tried to confirm the story, Semenya refused to help them. “I really have nothing to say about that article,” she said. Irrespective of Semenya’s statement, many public comments have been laced with nastiness about Semenya’s sexuality and gender.
These are themes that have stalked the runner since her champagne moment in 2009, when as an 18-year-old she won the 800 metre race at the World Championships in Berlin. Instead of celebrating the gold medal she faced a barrage of accusation over her gender. Fellow competitors accused Semenya of being a man and her appearance, underlined by her short hair, strong biceps and washboard abdominal muscles, did not help that.
She was required to have her gender tested amid a wave of protests that the procedure was invasive. The results were never made public although it was revealed that she had neither a womb nor ovaries and high levels of testosterone. A year later, the International Association of Athletics Federations cleared Semenya to compete against other women but the stereotype remained.
With the spectre of the tests hanging over her and because Semenya did not look typically feminine, she was thought of as something “other.” The foregone conclusion was that she was homosexual and when media reports unveiled a girlfriend, through Drum magazine which used Facebook pictures of Semenya and Raseboya, there was a collective nodding of heads and growing of stigma.
Being black and lesbian is not easy anywhere in Africa, and illegal in some parts. Sisande Msekele, writing in Curve magazine explained. “In many black cultures being a lesbian is associated with witchcraft. Coming out as a black lesbian is to risk being called a witch, demon possessed, raped, disowned and killed.”
Semenya, who is a public figure, may not face the same dangers from her community and the close inspection of her private life will be inescapable but not illegal. Same sex marriages have been legally recognised in South Africa since December 2006.
Protesters hold a vigil in Istanbul. (Photo: Nurcan Volkan / Demotix)
On the 13th of May the Soma mining disaster caused by carbon monoxide poisoning left over 230 dead. Writing this from afar, sadly there is an excessive amount of police brutality being applied to the protesters who were simply expressing their sadness and fury.
There were arrests. The most painful of all was that there were relatives of the deceased among the people who were detained. This time it wasn’t the freedom of speech that was taken away. It was the freedom to mourn.
While dreaming of awaking each morning to sunlight, there were those who awakened to a coal black. Those, who sacrificed saluting the day with sunlight and nurtured their hopes in a coal black to bring home food and to prepare a future for their children… didn’t, couldn’t… their hopes buried in coal black…
One can struggle for anything, anywhere, in any condition. As long as one breathes… but what if coal black stopped one from breathing? Children left behind without a father, women left behind without a husband, sisters left behind without a brother, mothers and fathers left behind without a son…
the sound of pain has never been filled with this much fury, fury has never turned so bitter… death has never come this blatantly…
The reasoning that easily ignores safety for the sake of more production at a lower cost per ton, causes murders. The disaster in Soma is not an accident. For the sake of mining coal for a thermal plant to produce electricity, our workers have been buried in pitch darkness so that we may be illuminated.
When lust for power and potency takes place of conscience…
When power is built upon fear…
Those, who are out of breath because of coal black, are of no worth
Those, who die at a very young age, are of no worth
Child labor, is of no worth
Freedom of speech is of no worth
Freedom of expression, is of no worth
Trying to express your feelings is of no worth
Trying to put your fury into words is of no worth
The humanitarian values are of no worth
What is of worth is, justifying those, who says “these are usual things”
What is of worth is silencing those, who show resistance
What is of worth is shutting up those, who object
What is of worth is controlling the media
What is of worth is ignoring the facts
What is of worth censoring
What is of worth is banning
What is of worth beating up
What is of worth is submissiveness
What is of worth becomes obedience
Without questioning, at the cost of lives
Brutality of those who are lacking pain empathy…
The hatred and brutality of mercilessness…
And amidst all these, the sensibility of an injured miner, with his coal black face asking in the ambulance “shall I take my boots off? Don’t want to dirty the stretcher.”
And painfully realising that this mercilessness has even taken away your words…
In September last year Vladimir Putin spoke at the Valdai Conference, an autumnal landmark in the Russian political calendar. The theme was values and identity and Putin proposed a “return” to morality and spirituality, praising the Russian Orthodox Church, religious tradition and resistance to political correctness.
Fast forward to Spring 2014 – and Putin’s appeal to nostalgic morality has collided with the internet age. “Swearbots” are the latest deployment – an attempt to curtail Russian’s propensity for foul language online and save the bruised fingers of online censors, who have until recently been tasked with checking over five thousand websites “manually” for profanities each day.
But how does this square off with Russian “identity,” which Putin was so keen to discuss? Russians love swearing, as much as they love vodka or not smiling at strangers. Browsing this eyebrow raising online dictionary (optimised for non-Cyrillic readers), demonstrates quite how large the Russian profanity compendium is. As one commentator cheekily told the BBC “If they ban swearing in Russia, all technical progress will grind to a halt …Warehouses will close and the army will lose its combat readiness. For our Motherland, it will be the end.”
In an attempt to police this ocean of foul language, enter the swearbot. It’s a computer programme forecast to go live this autumn, enforcing laws passed last spring. It should automate the rooting out of blasphemous Russians, and take the pressure off the media watchdog Roskomandzor, who were wilting under the pressure of censoring so much filth.
According to a statement from Moscow’s Academy of Science the law applies to “obscene references to the male and female reproductive organs, copulation and women of loose morals, and all words derived from them.”
Although that seems fairly vague, it’s a step up from when the legislation was originally passed last April. At that point, there wasn’t a specific list of forbidden words. It took until December for the the Institute of Russian Language at the Russian Academy of Sciences to confirm four words they believed should be censored – roughly translated as “c*ck” “f*ck” “wh*re” and “c**t”.
Although it’s still not exactly clear which swear words the swearbot will be primed with, those four seem a good start.
The fines for those cussing too strongly come in at 3000 rubles ($85) for an individual, and over $500 for an organisation. The bill, having passed through the parliament’s Lower House, is expected to be fully ratified by July – at which point it will come into law.
The Kremlin also announced that public performances, including cinema, theatre and stand-up comedy, would be subject to the swearing restrictions. Again, fines are in places as well as a three month suspension of business activities for repeat offences.
A trade magazine for comics, Chortle, lamented the news – worrying that comics would feel limited.
Irish stand-up comedian Rory O’Hanlon told Chortle the new rules would “make it difficult, near impossible to perform,” adding that “on the other hand it may push comedy underground and make it more exciting.’
The private TVC TV channel found itself in controversial waters when it decided to beep out the word “hrenovina” (“bullshit”). Eldar Ryazanov called the decision “an act of idiocy”.
The Ministry of Culture is defending its new legislation. “The law is not aggressive; its only aim is to regulate this sphere, so that swearing will have its purpose,” a ministry spokesperson told the Moscow Times. “It will be up to the artistic director to decide what to do with swearing, whether to break the new law or not, we will not interfere in the process.”
With the arrival of the “swearbot” program some analysts say bloggers might be at risk, especially as a law that defines major blogs as mass media is speeding towards approval.
Bloggers are now required to register as publishing entities, in a process similar to registration for TV stations and newspapers. Commentators have warned this will have a chilling effect as bloggers will be licensed to publish, as well as having their addresses logged with the government.
A chilling message sent by award-winning photojournalist Mosa’ab El Shamy via his Twitter account on Monday filled his 41,000 online followers with dread. Alerting them that his brother, reporter Abdullah El Shamy, had been “removed from his prison cell and taken to an unknown location”, Mosa’ab added that he was “still trying to find out more.”
Abdullah, who works as a journalist with the Arabic-language Al Jazeera (AJ) Misr Mubasher Channel, has been detained at Cairo’s Torah prison since August. He was arrested outside the Raba’a El Adaweya Mosque in Cairo’s eastern residential neighbourhood of Nasr City while filming the forced dispersal of a sit-in by supporters of toppled Islamist President Mohamed Morsi. At least 600 protesters were killed and thousands more were injured in a single day of violence when security forces stormed the pro-Morsi encampment on August 14 .
Mosa’ab’s Twitter post provoked an angry outcry from hundreds of internet activists who demanded that the Egyptian authorities “immediately disclose the whereabouts of the 26 year-old AJ detainee.” The fact that Abdullah has been on hunger strike since January 27–and had reportedly lost a third of his body weight–further fueled concerns over his disappearance and ailing health.
“If they can let a prisoner on hunger strike like Abdullah El Shamy just vanish in Egypt, what does Foreign Minister Fahmy’s talk of ‘due process’ really mean?” asked Jonathan Moremi, a journalist with the independent Egyptian paper Daily News Egypt.
On a recent visit to the United States, Egypt’s Foreign Minister Nabil Fahmy told US Secretary of State John Kerry that the country’s courts were “independent of the government.” He insisted that a “due process” was allowed in all court cases, leading to “fair decisions” by the judges. His statements came in response to criticism from US officials and international rights groups of an April court decision sentencing 683 Muslim Brotherhood supporters to death for their role in protests last year against the overthrow of Mohamed Morsi. Kerry called the mass death sentences a “dangerous development.” Amnesty International, meanwhile, said “the Egyptian judiciary risked becoming a part of the authorities’ repressive machinery.”
In a blog titled “Where is Abdullah El Shamy?” posted on her website Wednesday, prominent Egyptian blogger Zeinobia said that blood samples taken by Abdullah’s family had shown he was “on the verge of kidney failure.” She also reminded readers that “journalism is not a crime.”
Abdullah is one of 17 journalists currently imprisoned in Egypt and one of four detainees working for the Al Jazeera news network , according to a recent report released by the Committee for the Protection of Journalists , CPJ. Sixty five journalists have been detained since the military takeover of the country in July 2013, the CPJ report adds. Analysts say Abdullah’s situation appears to be “more serious” than that of the other three AJ journalists who have been charged with “fabricating news that harms national security” and “aiding a terror group.” Abdullah has languished in prison for nine months (four months longer than his detained colleagues) and unlike them, he has not been charged thus far. Furthermore, he works for the Al Jazeera Mubasher Misr, a network that has been accused by the Egyptian government of being “a mouthpiece for the Muslim Brotherhood”, designated by Egypt as a terrorist organization last December. The three other AJ detainees work for Mubasher Misr’s sister channel, Al Jazeera English, generally perceived by Egyptians as being “more balanced” and “fair”.
In a letter smuggled out of his prison cell at the end of January, Abdullah described the dire conditions inside Torah prison, saying he was sharing a tiny cell with 16 inmates. Announcing his decision to go on hunger strike “to send a message to intimidated journalists practicing self-censorship” and “exhort them to overcome their fear,” Abdullah expressed a defiant spirit, telling the military junta that nothing would break his will or his dignity. In a video smuggled out of prison , he held the Egyptian authorities responsible should harm befall him. ” I have repeatedly asked for medical attention but to no avail,” he says in the video.
It took a nerve-wracking two days for Mosa’ab to find his “missing” brother. In a second message posted on Twitter on Wednesday, he informed his online friends and fans that Abdullah had been moved to solitary confinement in Tora’s high security “Scorpion Prison”. Abdullah was being punished “for refusing to end his hunger strike and for attracting international attention to his plight,” Mosa’ab said.
Heba Saleh, the Financial Times’ Cairo Correspondent, who visited the three AJE detainees on Wednesday, offered another explanation for Abdullah’s disappearance. She quoted prison authorities as saying that Abdullah was being punished “for a smuggled cell phone found in his possession.”
Meanwhile, the trial of the three Al Jazeera English journalists –Australian journalist Peter Greste, Cairo Bureau Chief Mohamed Fahmy and producer Baher Mohamed–took a turn for the worse on Thursday when Lawyer Farag Fathy– the Defence Attorney representing Greste–quit the case, accusing the international news network of jeopardizing his client’s case.
In a surprise move on Thursday, Fathy announced he was withdrawing from the case, adding that Al Jazeera was using the trial for “promotional purposes.” Fathy’s decision to step down came after the Qatari-hosted news network served a Notice of Dispute against Egypt for breaching a 1999 investment treaty with Qatar, Hayden Cooper , ABC’s Middle East Correspondent reported on Thursday. In an article published online by Australia’s ABC news network, Cooper said Al Jazeera was seeking US Dollars 150 million in compensation from Egypt for losses the media outlet had incurred as a result of the closure of its offices in Cairo, the jamming of its satellites broadcasting in Egypt and the mistreatment of its journalists.
Thursday’s court session made little headway as defence lawyers complained to the judge that the prosecution had asked them to pay an exaggerated fee of 1.2 million Egyptian Pounds to review “the evidence.” Adjourning the trial until May 22, the judge urged the prosecutors to allow the lawyers access to the video footage they claim contains “evidence” against the defendants. He also asked them to state in writing their “desired price” for making the footage accessible to the lawyers.
The new developments threaten to further prolong the case that has dragged on for four and a half months. Defence lawyers and analysts fear the recent turn of events may also threaten the final outcome of the case, resulting in an unfair verdict. The four detained AJ journalists, including Abdullah El Shamy, are caught up in the middle of the Egypt-Qatar political dispute, they say, adding that the case is clearly “political” and hence there is little hope that justice will prevail. Abdullah, who has completed 100 days on hunger strike, may not live long enough to hear the verdict.
Modi invoked Lord Ram while addressing a meeting in Faizabad, barely six kilometres from Ayodhya. He shared the stage with the Faizabad candidate Lalu Singh who was issued a notice by the EC for displaying religious portraits.
“The Ram- Rahim ideal and the secular ideology are often the stuff of an Indian politician’s election haberdashery, not his soul-stuff.” Justice Krishna Iyer of India’s Supreme Court was scathing in his criticism of those electoral candidates who canvass votes in the name of religion or by instigating polarisation among different religious and ethnic communities. Besides violating India elections law, they also damage the country’s secular fabric.
The law is Section 123(3) of the Representation of the People Act, which deems candidates’ or their agents’ appeal for votes on the basis of religion or religious symbols as a “corrupt practice”, and if found guilty, entails disqualification.
On May 6, while campaigning for Lalloo Singh, the Bharatiya Janata Party’s (BJP) candidate from Faizabad, Narendra Modi, with the picture of Ram, a mythological king of ancient India, revered as a god by the Hindus, adorning the background, promised to bring about “Ram Rajya” (kingdom of Ram) if voted into power. The Election Commission was quick to order an investigation for a violation of the election law as well as the Model Code of Conduct–a set of guidelines which aren’t legally binding.
As it has become de rigueur for a Hindu Right party like the BJP, bellicose arguments about violation of the fundamental rights to freedom of religion and freedom of expression were relentlessly trotted out. The truth is quite different, because the Supreme Court has held that the restriction on religious electioneering doesn’t impinge upon any such right.
When the constitutional validity of Section 123 (3) was challenged in 1954, a bench of five Supreme Court judges while upholding the provision held that it does not prevent a man from speaking and merely prescribes conditions which must be observed if he wants to enter parliament. The right to contest an election is not a common law right but a special right created by a statute and the statutory provisions have no bearing on the fundamental rights. Then when a similar challenge was mounted again in 1965, the court affirmed its earlier decision and stated that the law acted as a wedge against the secular, democratic process being vitiated by bigotry and violence. It must be mentioned that both these judgements hold ground to this day.
Going back to Modi’s speech, take a look at the photograph, and some more facts. “Ram Rajya”, which the BJP so desperately tried to pass off as a moniker for good governance, is an exclusive Hindu term, and no one professing any other faith would ever use that expression. The setting in which the speech was delivered makes Modi’s actions all the more egregious. He was speaking at Faizabad in Uttar Pradesh, which is only a stone’s throw away from Ayodhya, which has attained permanent notoriety for the site of the demolition of the Babri Mosque in 1992 by hordes of militant Hindus swearing fanatical allegiance to the BJP and its associated parties. In fact 6 December 1992 marks that watershed moment when communalism became an inalienable and vicious part of Indian politics. Things have only slid downhill from there, and who can forget the carnage in Gujarat in 2002 (under Narendra Modi’s watch)?
And the fact that Lalloo Singh is one of those arraigned as accused for razing the mosque to the ground leaves no one in any doubt as to Modi’s real agenda- to whip up Hindu communal passions and garner as many votes as possible.
Modi’s increasingly strident bigotry has bared its fangs open in the last lap of the election campaign. Only on May 5, he tried to charm his Uttar Pradesh supporters by thundering that only those who worship Durga–a Hindu goddess–are true Indians, and all Muslim migrants will be deported once he came to power.
It remains a mystery and one of grave consternation as to why the Election Commission finally went easy and took no action. But a fitting reply to the last Modi apologist would be -the promise of building a Ram temple over the pulverized mosque occupies pride of place in the BJP’s election manifesto.
Nick Griffin, leader of the British National Party, arrives at a protest in June 2013 in Westminster. (Photo: Paul Smyth / Demotix)
BBC Radio Five Live’s Breakfast yesterday dutifully carried out its public service remit by interviewing Nick Griffin, the world’s most tedious Nazi demagogue, ahead of the European elections. Griffin’s British National Party does have some seats in the European Parliament, so is entitled to some airtime.
It was a dull interview. They always are. The BBC interviewers–in this case, Nicky Campbell–want to pick away at the BNP facade, but always somehow miss out on the really strange stuff. Long ago, I vowed that I would never write about Griffin without pointing out that he had written a pamphlet called “Who Are The Mindbenders?”, which is a catalogue of Jewish and Jewish people who work in the media. Griffin believes that these evil Jews (sorry, “Zionists”) are involved in an enormous plot to keep him–the saviour of the white race–out of the press and off the airwaves.
The conspiracist aspect of BNP policies is often overlooked, with the straightforward racism critiqued more heavily. So it was here. Campbell asked Griffin if he had a problem with black and mixed-race players representing England in the upcoming World Cup. Griffin, barely missing a beat, started complaining about BBC liberals smearing him and worse, denying him airtime.
“The BBC owes me 12 Question Times,” he declared, bemoaning his lack of invitations to appear on the BBC’s Thursday night festival of shouting from and at the telly.
It might have been interesting to delve into why Griffin felt he was being kept off Question Time, to see how long he would be able to maintain a line before going full Doctor Strangelove. As it was, we got only the superficial whine. The whine of the martyr-bully.
It is the background sound of our time. There is absolutely no one engaged in modern public life at any level at all who has not complained that they’ve been silenced, denied a platform, bullied into submission by a cruel cabal of agents of reaction or “the liberal agenda”, take your pick.
That is not to say people are not censored, even in the lovely modern 21st Century. It happens, quite a bit. People get locked up for saying stupid things on the internet that affront public sentiment. For years the libel laws restrained reporters, reviewers and the man on the Clapham Omnibus from saying what they really knew, or thought, or thought they knew. And no reader of this site needs to be told what happens in the less than democratic countries all over the world.
But there is actual censorship, and there is the claim to being censored, which are often two separate things. The BNP’s Griffin, UKIP’s Nigel Farage, and every Blimp all the way to Westminster delights in telling us, at length, the things that nobody, least of all them, is allowed to talk about anymore.
Meanwhile, on the left and the pseudo-left, there is an obsession with “platforms”; who has one, who deserves one, who is denied one. Editors and writers who do their best to represent as many diverse views as possible are denounced routinely for the articles they haven’t published rather than the ones they have. Every oversight is evidence of a conspiracy rather than a cock-up. The right people are always being excluded by the wrong people. If only, if only everyone shut up and let me speak, we think, then I could sort everything out.
It’s ironic that many of those who argue most vehemently that they are being censored are the exact ones who demand everyone else shut up. Intersectional feminists who insist they are being excluded from debate demand that radical feminists be “no platformed”. Ukipers who claim they’re not allowed talk about immigration want the police to arrest their opponents in anti-racist movements. All of them, simultaneously, noisily, will end up invoking Niermoller’s “First they came for…” (with the possible exception of the BNP, who, stopping short of displaying sympathy with Communists or Jews, instead content themselves with calling their opponents “the real fascists”, as I once heard Griffin do at Oxford Union).
Why is this? Why does everyone want to be censored?
It’s possible that the simple reason is that we are constantly improving as a society. Triumphalism and privilege are pretty much taboo for many. On the face of it, most of the people reading this, and certainly the person writing it, are probably the luckiest sons of bitches to ever have walked the earth. But a combination of our still-relevant horror at the great wars of the last century, plus a greater ability to learn about the ideas and experiences of others, make most of us wary of revelling in our role as the victor. Instead, we prefer to be the underdog, because underdogs are more virtuous–victims rather than perpetrators. Martyrs, even.
The Nazis and Communists of the 20th century also believed they were more sinned against than sinning, but the difference was that they were certain they would show the world who was really boss. Now, no one outside the most extreme movements – Al Qaeda; or North Korean Juche – really wants to state that aim openly. We want to remain oppressed. Censorship is considered almost universally as a bad thing, so people on whom it is inflicted are good.
The background whine of censorship, emanating even from the powerful may just be the tiny price we pay for a world that is generally better and kinder.
Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan (Photo: Philip Janek / Demotix)
Last Thursday, after nearly eight years of detention three journalists were among a group released from a prison near Istanbul. The journalists Füsün Erdoğan, Bayram Namaz and Arif Çelebi were arrested in 2006 and accused of belonging to the Marxist-Leninist Communist Party (MLKP), which is considered a terrorist organization in Turkey. For journalists and activists who had been closely following the case, the sudden release came as a surprise after months of resistance from local courts.
In November 2013, seven years after her arrest, Erdoğan was sentenced to life in prison for her alleged involvement with the MLKP. She has denied involvement with the group. In a letter Erdoğan wrote that was published by the CPJ last year, she explicitly rejected the charges: “In reality, there was only one real reason for our arrest: police were trying to intimidate members of the progressive, independent, democratic, and alternative media.” Erdoğan is a founder of the leftist radio station Özgür Radyo and began writing for the independent news website Bianet while in prison, mailing editors her regular dispatches, says Elif Akgül, Bianet’s freedom of speech editor.
Earlier this year, judicial reforms in Turkey brought down the maximum legal detention time for prisoners awaiting sentencing in terrorism cases from ten years to five. While Erdoğan had been sentenced in local court, she is still awaiting a verdict from an appeals judge. Following the new reform, Erdoğan’s lawyers applied for her release from prison, but the request was denied in March. Around the same time, eight journalists were released who had been detained in 2011 and were accused of belonging to the Kurdish KCK union, which is also considered a terrorist organisation in Turkey.
The turnarounds over the past months, from Erdoğan’s life prison sentence last year to her release from prison a few days ago, have exposed the Turkish judicial system’s capacity for dragging on a case in uncertainty. Erdoğan was not informed of the charges against her until two years into her detention, and served nearly eight years without receiving a final verdict. Now, after Erdoğan’s sudden and unexpected release from prison, the court’s decision also shows the opacity of court regulations in Turkey. The implications of a broken judicial system for press freedom are troubling—especially in a country with consistently high numbers of jailed journalists.
Füsün Erdoğan’s case has attracted the attention of advocacy organizations like the Turkish Journalists’ Union, the European Federation of Journalists, the Committee to Protect Journalists and Reporters without Borders. Because she’s a Turkish-Dutch dual citizen, last year the Dutch Association of Journalists (NVJ) also began campaigning for her release.
Thomas Bruning is general secretary of the NVJ and has started campaigns in the Netherlands to bring attention to Erdoğan’s case. What drew the most reactions, he says, was when the NVJ had 10,000 posters made featuring a picture of Erdoğan with the text “Füsün Erdoğan must be free” and “journalists are not terrorists” in Dutch. The association sent the posters out to subscribers of their magazine and asked them to share pictures of the posters on social media. Over the last few months, Bruning and the NVJ have also been in contact with Erdoğan’s son, and Bruning gave a speech outside the Dutch parliament when Erdoğan’s son went on a hunger strike there to draw attention to his mother’s case. Now that Erdoğan is out of prison, the NVJ is focused on having the charges against her dropped. “We always said that there are two problems left – one is that, although in the last few months journalists have been released, there are still a lot of journalists in prison in Turkey. The second is that Füsün is released but the charges haven’t been dropped yet. She’s not free to travel and she’s awaiting the appeal. She’s not a free citizen,” Bruning said.
Füsün Erdoğan’s surprise release from prison is not an indicator of lasting change in Turkey’s press freedom situation. During its 2013 prison census, the CPJ reported that 40 journalists were in Turkish prisons. Yesterday, five more journalists were released from prison who had been held in connection to the KCK case. Despite the release of multiple journalists this year, the CPJ estimates that at least 11 journalists are still imprisoned in Turkey.
At protests in Istanbul on May 1, journalists were detained and Bianet reported that at least 12 were injured. A few weeks ago, the journalist Önder Aytaç was sentenced to ten years in prison for a 2012 tweet that insulted Prime Minister Erdoğan. Akgül says freedom of speech is evolving but not improving in Turkey. “In the 1990s, you were killed for being a journalist, in the 2000s you were arrested for being a journalist. Right now, you become unemployed if you’re a journalist,” she said.
Erdoğan’s legal situation remains precarious as she awaits appeal trial, but while Akgül says her release is a positive development, the case is a warning sign for the media climate in Turkey. “It’s a threat not just for the journalists who are on trial, it’s a threat for the others too,” said Akgül. “Because a journalist now working in Turkey, writing critical stuff, knows they can be jailed for being a terrorist member, administrator, member, they can be jailed for lifetimes.”
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