World Press Freedom Day

On almost any day of the year, the headlines concerning attacks on free media around the globe are shocking. Consider the main headlines from a day last week, Friday, April 27 carried on the website of the International Freedom of Expression eXchange http://www.ifex.org, the world’s free expression monitoring network:

Mexico – Murdered journalist had received list of suspects in kidnapping he was investigating

Pakistan – Police in Pakistani Kashmir harass television station employees to force withdrawal of news story

Cambodia – Newspaper editor found dead in suspicious circumstances

Ghana – District official assaults, verbally abuses TV journalists

Uzbekistan – Rights defender sentenced to six years in prison

Zimbabwe – Government plan to revoke all NGO licenses violates free expression rights

This pattern repeats itself in dozens of countries around the world. Add to the list the number of journalists killed in war zones and the stringent control of journalism in many newsrooms, and it’s clear that journalists and media are under heavy attack.

To bring awareness to the number of attacks on free expression, UNESCO sponsors World Press Freedom Day every May 3. Free expression groups are reporting that the number of journalists killed on the job has escalated dramatically in recent years. One organisation, Reporters Without Borders (RSF), based in Paris, says that 81 journalists and 32 media assistants were killed last year. That’s the highest total since 1994, and is due in part to the number killed in Iraq. Another group, the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) reports there were 134 journalists and 49 Internet journalists in prison. In addition, hundreds of journalists were attacked and beaten, and several newsrooms were bombed. 

But does it have to be this way? Are the more than 100 non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and media groups that spend in excess of US$15-million a year investigating, monitoring, and trying to ameliorate attacks on journalists and on media freedom doing everything possible to reduce the attacks, killings, and many forms of censorship?

***

In the late 1970s, physical attacks on journalists in the Latin American countries of Argentina, Uruguay, and El Salvador made headlines around the globe. Dozens of journalists were tortured and murdered, sometimes for investigating corruption or drug dealings, but just as often for pursuing stories that would have been considered quite routine in developed countries. As a result of these attacks, a new breed of organisation – the press freedom group – began to spring up in many developed countries to campaign in defence of those being attacked and killed, first in Latin America, then in Africa, and ultimately in other parts of the world. Initially, groups were funded largely by donations from individual journalists and media companies, and later by grants from western governments and foundations, which viewed media protection as a vital component of human rights protection and the development of democracy.

By the late 1980s, about a dozen free expression groups – all located in western countries – were in operation. Although some of these organisations met annually to discuss free expression issues, there was very little cooperation. In fact, rivalries developed. Groups manoeuvered to see which one could develop a particular programme first, or to see who could report on a case first. But the greatest rivalry developed over access to the increasing pot of money available from donors: competition for financial support led to secrecy about activities rather than cooperation on programmes.

In 1992, pressure was exerted on the ever-increasing number of free expression groups to join ranks and work more closely together. While in New York for a United Nations conference on refugees that year, four press freedom organisations individually visited The Ford Foundation, each acting in isolation from the others and asking for funding for their own pet projects. Frustrated by the failure of the groups to work together, the Ford programme officer called a meeting and told the groups that they needed to establish mechanisms that would allow them to carry out fundraising in a more coordinated way and to implement more effective programmes. In this way, the impetus for a more efficient and more effective approach to the world’s free expression issues came not from the free expression community itself, but from a prominent donor.

To their credit, the groups warmed to part of the message coming from Ford. Within a year, agreement was reached to have Canadian Journalists for Free Expression (CJFE) manage the activities of a new network, the International Freedom of Expression eXchange (IFEX) out of Toronto. Twelve groups – all from northern countries – were the first members of the network. (For background and current list of IFEX members see, http://www.ifex.org/en/content/view/full/429/ .) The creation of IFEX led groups to increase their cooperation in some areas, such as the distribution of action alert reports by email, and the creation of a weekly email newsletter that described developments in the free expression community. The Canadians also raised funds to help support new free expression groups that were springing up in many developing countries, thus, for the first time, giving those most directly affected by attacks on their rights an opportunity to play a role in their own defence.

But when IFEX held its second annual meeting it became clear that some of the largest and best-funded members had no interest in empowering their network so that it could help develop collective policies or large-scale campaigns. They wanted individual groups to have all the power. Soon thereafter, three of the original founders of the network – the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), the World Association of Newspapers (WAN) h, and Reporters Without Borders – expressed apprehension that the growth of independent groups in developing countries, as well as IFEX’s overall popularity, would undermine their own interests. The three groups put forward a motion at a Board meeting that any one of the founding members of IFEX would have a veto that would allow them to stop any major change or development in the organisation they disapproved of. The resolution was defeated. Had the veto been approved, support for groups in developing countries would almost certainly have been curtailed, and a weakened IFEX likely would not have survived.

Yet, IFEX not only survived, it flourished. Most significantly, IFEX’s Toronto-based Outreach Programme has helped build and develop more than 40 free expression groups throughout the developing world and the Newly Independent States. The work of IFEX and the more than 100 groups that now exist has substantially increased the profile of free expression around the globe and reaffirmed its status as a vital component of democratic development. There is no doubt that some campaigns by IFEX members, aided by the support of other groups, such as Amnesty International, and the intervention of northern donor governments, resulted in journalists being saved from torture or execution.

Unfortunately, beyond their cooperation in IFEX, there are few examples of high-profile or highly successful activities involving the pooling of resources among press freedom groups. In one cooperative venture through IFEX, where groups maintain their own autonomy, about 15 organisations are pressuring the Tunisian government to allow some degree of press freedom. In other instances, two or three groups will sometimes work together to develop strategies for a particular case, to advance legislation relating to media in a restrictive country, or to conduct a joint mission to investigate conditions in a country and issue a joint report at the conclusion of the project.

But, despite such initiatives, and despite having in the IFEX network the perfect vehicle at their disposal, the free expression community has failed to overcome much of its own narrow interest and has not brought significant change to the status of free expression around the globe. The Ford Foundation’s urging that groups work more closely as a united force has largely gone ignored. The idea of pooling huge resources in the millions of dollars to conduct massive campaigning programmes has never been given serious consideration. All major western groups have clearly demonstrated, and have said openly, that their own activities and programmes are of paramount importance. Old rivalries continue and new ones have developed.

The many journalists working in dangerous and sometimes life-threatening conditions pay the price when the dominant free expression groups continue to focus on the advancement of their own interests. Such a focus frequently results in funds being spent in a questionable manner about the advancement of their own groups, including spending considerable money in questionable manner and in areas that often result in a duplication of effort:

• In countries where journalists are being threatened and killed – for instance, the Philippines, Colombia, or the Democratic Republic of Congo – as many as four to six northern groups carry out their individual activities, generally paying little attention to the similar work of other groups, both northern and local.

• When a serious incident occurs, such as an attack on a journalist, usually in a developing country, as many as six northern groups independently gather information on the case, duplicating effort and wasting resources.

• Although one of the main reasons behind the creation of IFEX was to have it systematically organise and distribute Action Alerts prepared by the many individual groups, perhaps as many as 20 groups continue to distribute their own alerts in addition to having them circulated by IFEX. This is an extra cost and still means that human rights activists may receive as many as a half-dozen alerts on the same case.

• At least five Northern groups cover many of the same cases by publishing their own newsletters and preparing costly annual reports concerning attacks on media.

***

Members of the donor community must accept some responsibility for the fact that there is waste in the free expression community, as well as the fact that there is no well-focused common strategy to stop the killings, attacks, and censorship. Donors can’t agree on priorities among themselves, and this is a major reason why more than 100 free expression groups – mostly with differing objectives – are funded around the globe. An effort to bring together the world’s top 30 or so donors for the media/free expression field in order to develop more common approaches to issues appears to be floundering. A couple of small groups of donors are setting common goals and objectives, but, for the large part, many donors are just as guilty as the free expression and media development groups of working in isolation of other donors.

The amount of money available to the press freedom community increased by leaps and bounds for about a dozen years, but many NGOs now say that funds are shrinking. If there is less money available, an obvious response would be for groups with similar activities to amalgamate and build a more efficient and more powerful machine to defend free expression.

***

No one can say with certainty that there would be improvements in free expression and that fewer journalists would be killed if groups pooled some of their resources and adopted more dynamic campaigning and lobbying techniques. Broad-based, concerted efforts surely cannot be less successful than current practices.

A research project was carried out by the Committee to Protect Journalists last year that shows how ineffective the free expression movement is in helping put the murderers of journalists in jail.

CPJ researched the murders of 580 journalists over a period of 15 years and discovered that about 85 per cent of the journalists’ killers faced neither investigation nor prosecution for their crimes. Moreover, when murders were investigated and some convictions obtained, those behind the killings were brought to justice in only seven per cent of the cases.

This is an important measure, because if only seven per cent of the killers are going to jail, such a small conviction rate does not serve as a deterrent against the killing of more journalists. Faced with such a depressing situation, will the press freedom community adopt some new tactics beyond sending e-mails and the occasional mission to countries to help cut down on the number of killings and serious assaults?

With the exception of Reporters Without Borders, most of the world’s free expression groups seldom adopt activist tactics. Groups sprang out of the journalism and human rights communities, and neither take well to being too impolite or causing a disturbance. But with journalists being jailed and killed at the same rate as 30 years ago, more aggressive tactics would seem to be called for. Depending on the circumstances, a case can be made for civil disobedience such as sit-ins and marches, for economic sanctions against offending countries, and for aggressive litigation.

Collectively, free expression organisations spend hundreds of thousands of dollars annually on researching and documenting threats and attacks that have already occurred. They spend very little on developing pro-active strategies to try to cut down on attacks before they occur. In addition, the lack of cooperation, openness, and trust among groups means that there is no “big picture” strategy with regard to tackling free expression issues.

***

In the first decade of the 21st century, one of the deadliest places for journalists is the Philippines. At least 51 journalists have been murdered in the politically troubled, corrupt country since 2001, when President Gloria Arroyo came to power. (Philippines’ Centre for Media Freedom and Responsibility). Most of the murders are related to investigations of corruption, narcotics, and other illegal activities. The most recent victim was 41-year-old Mark Palacios, who worked for a government-run radio station. Palacios reported on corruption in the police and politics, and the Police Director speculated that he must have “earned the ire of scallywag policemen and politicians”.

Despite the government’s promises and cash rewards, only a handful of the murders carried out in the Philippines have been solved. And what has been the response of the free expression community to the murder of an average of more than eight journalists per year for six years? Amazingly, the large and wealthy organisations have done little beyond meticulously researching the deaths, faxing and emailing protest letters of concern to the government, and occasionally sending missions to the country to report on the situation.

The lives of so many Philippine journalists should be worth a greater effort. Perhaps a more effective response could be an action project model pursued several years ago in the United States. In the 1970s a journalist at the Arizona Republic, Don Bolles, was one of America’s most capable investigative reporters. In the middle of one of his corruption investigations, someone attached six sticks of dynamite to the ignition of his car. Bolles died as a result of the explosion.

During a bizarre string of court proceedings over nearly 15 years three men served time for Bolles’s murder, but many U.S. journalists were not satisfied with the result. Thirty-eight journalists came together in a team effort and spent months in Arizona unearthing organized crime networks. What became known as the Arizona Project produced a series of 23 stories on organised crime and corruption that appeared in many newspapers across the US organised crime in the state was exposed and largely shut down.

The world press freedom movement has the resources and skills to launch an Arizona Project type investigation in the Philippines to expose the many murderers who have never been identified. A special team could include some of the Philippine’s top investigative reporters as well as those from other countries. Because of the complicity of some members of the police in the Philippines, only such a large-scale and fully independent investigation will likely put more of the murderers behind bars. If such a project were to work in the Philippines, then another investigative team could be brought together to work in

another country. The goal, ultimately, would be that anyone, anywhere, who kills a journalist should expect to go to jail.

***

For many years now, there has been discussion in the free expression community, both among donors and free expression groups, about the need to empower the South, to shift programs from the North to communities that are living with the fear and repression generated by killings, intimidation, censorship, and other threats to press freedom. Some progress has been made in this direction, but far too little. (The exceptions are Southern Africa [Media Institute of Southern Africa], and Southeast Asia [Southeast Asian Press Alliance], where strong regional organisations have emerged.) It is time to turn rhetoric into action, and to begin developing meaningful programmes that tackle issues head on – not just documenting and feebly protesting attacks. One wonders if the real power and financial resources were held in Manila instead of New York, Paris and Brussels if eight journalists per year for six years would be killed just like clockwork in the Philippines.

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Introduction to special issue on Africa

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Africa & Argentina, the June 1980 issue of Index on Censorship magazine

Africa & Argentina, the June 1980 issue of Index on Censorship magazine

By Ahmed Rajab

We devote a large part of this issue to dissent in literature and the arts in Africa, and the response to it by the ruling circles in a number of countries. This may seem an ambitious project

in the sense that Africa is not a homogeneous whole but a continent with different social systems, beset with a high degree of illiteracy, a multitude of languages and a variety of cultural practices.

There is another sense, however, in which Africa as a whole can be discussed under this one rubric: the artist in almost all the African countries is viewed with suspicion the moment he takes on the role of a social critic. This despite the fact that traditionally, whenever a poet or a dramatist acted as a social critic and a ‘ chronicler of current events ‘, he was protected by society, the tribe. The earlier griot of West Africa or the Swahili poet of East Africa, could indulge in criticism of the social order without undue worry about the consequences — the more so if his views were shared by the rest of his community. The eighteenth century Kenyan coastal poet Muyaka wa Muhaji was famous for his impromptu improvisations of anti-establishment poetry. Cultural activists were more than just individual performers; they acted as the eyes, ears and mouthpieces of their societies. Although griots were originally the spokesmen of local kings, whom they spent days praising, they later extended their role to that of historians and commentators on history. In some parts of Senegambia they are known to have been responsible for bringing down a number of tribal chiefs. They were the conscience of society; they were there to see that society functioned as it should, and if it didn’t they tried to put things right. Not that everybody, rulers included, agreed with them. But if they did not, then their poetic broadsides were answered by other poems defending what the original poems or songs attacked. Rich powerful families instead of engaging in physical warfare with their enemies would send their griots to fight with ‘words’ the griots of their rivals.

Nowadays if a poet, novelist or playwright incurs official displeasure, he will almost invariably be arrested and imprisoned, as happened to the Kenyan Ngugi wa Thiong’o, or be permanently silenced as was the case with the Ugandan playwright Byron Kawadwa. If he is lucky, the dissident writer may escape to another country, and die in exile, like the Guinean novelist Camara Laye.

Colonialism has a lot to do with the present predicament of the artist in post-colonial Africa. Not only did colonialism subjugate the culture of the colonised by imposing its own cultural hegemony in order to facilitate colonial rule, but it also used state power to suppress anti colonial dissent as expressed in the performing arts. With slight modifications, the same coercive instruments of state are now being employed by post-colonial African governments to suppress any anti-establishment critique offered by the arts. The situation is the more serious because, in the absence of a legal opposition in most of these countries, literature and the arts provide the only platform for nonconformist ideas.

It is the ruling circles in these countries which seek to monopolise the ‘ right and correct’ ideas. Ideas that are judged to be hostile are viewed as subversive. The performing arts are also regarded as dangerous once their thematic preoccupations are not acceptable to the ministries of ‘ national’ culture that have sprung up after independence in almost all the African countries.

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In fact, it is the gradual thematic shift in literature and the arts from historical self-glorification to contemporary socio-political realities that has been responsible for increasing official intolerance towards them. But it is an aspect of totalitarianism not to tolerate dissenting views, be it in South Africa under the apartheid system or in any of the many one-party states of black Africa.

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The comparison may not be altogether fair, but the very fact that one can talk of such a comparison sheds a poor light on those countries that have for decades championed the cause of political freedom, free expression of ideas, freedom of association, and human rights in general for colonised Africa.

Admittedly the human rights situation has improved in a number of African countries in the past year. The Organisation for African Unity has recognised the urgent need for the establishment of a Commission on Human Rights for Africa, and there has, in general, been an increase in the awareness of human rights in connection with national development. But although Ngugi wa Thiong’o was released from prison in Kenya, a number of writers and poets are still incarcerated in South Africa and Morocco. In fact, Morocco is the only independent African country with a high number of writers and poets among its prison population. It is not irrelevant, of course, that in a country which supposedly has a multi-party democracy, no opposition party can be legalised without King Hassan’s assent. Those who operate outside the permitted limits are regarded as a ‘ danger to the security of the State’. The same could be said of Egypt, where President Sadat created his own opposition party and forced no less than 220 members of his ruling party to join it. The Egyptian dissident poet, Ahmed Fouad Negm {see Index on Censorship 2/1979 and 2/1980) is still on the run, evading the police. Egyptian journalists who disagree with President Sadat, even those working in the institutionalised press, have been silenced. In Senegal, it is no less a person than the enlightened poet-President Leopold Sedar Senghor, who saw fit to determine how many opposition parties, and of what nature, he was willing to tolerate. And it was Senghor who banned a film by the noted film-maker, Sembene Ousmane, ostensibly because he disagreed with the spelling of the film’s title (see Index on Censorship 4/1979, p. 57). The situation of the arts and literature in Africa could be comical but for its tragic consequences.

We have tried in this issue to portray some aspects of the difficult situation in which the writer and artist operate in the continent. Although there is these days a tendency to separate North African literature and culture from the rest of Africa, we do not apologise for including them. After all, the very name ‘Africa’ originated from that part of the continent. More important is the fact that the predicament of the writer in North Africa is no different from that of his colleagues south of the Sahara. They live subject to the same fears, and they share the same dreams and the same hope:of being free to operate as artists.

As far as the overall situation is concerned, the picture that emerges from these pages is sobering. But we can still hope that respect for human rights will continue to rise in the continent, and that the artist and writer will eventually be accorded his freedom. In the meantime, dissident artists, if not murdered, continue to be imprisoned, exiled, or silenced by self-censorship.

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Africa — silent continent?

The oral tradition provides outlets for dissent which have been
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No place for the African

South Africa’s education system, meant to bolster apartheid, may destroy it[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”93873″ img_size=”full” onclick=”custom_link” link=”https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03064228508533914″][vc_column_text]

Namibia: How South Africa controls the news

If you think censorship is tough in the Republic, take a look at the
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South Africa cultural boycott—yes or no?

Late last year Index on Censorship circulated to six hundred artists and intellectuals around the world a questionnaire about the cultural boycott of South Africa. The survey was announced in our first issue of 1975. At that time a few early replies were published, together with a brief history of the cultural boycott, and readers were invited to contribute their own opinions on the subject. The present article gives a general overview of the results of the survey among artists, followed by extracts from the more than sixty replies which we have received to date. (March 1975.)

Responses have come from (among other places) India, Argentina, Portugal, Turkey, Eastern Europe and the African continent, as well as from Britain, the United States and South Africa itself, the countries where the boycott debate has focussed in the past. We have heard from playwrights, poets, novelists, publishers, journalists, theatre directors, film critics and technicians, performing artists and academicians. Although the original mailing-list was not a scientifically-chosen sample, these replies can at least be considered representative of the main professional and artistic groups which have been involved with the cultural boycott since its beginning in 1957. While some of the respondents had previously signed petitions or otherwise signaled support or disapproval for the boycott, few had ever before expressed themselves fully about the question. This, together with the depth and individuality of the replies, lends considerable interest and importance to the results of the survey.

In an early reply to the INDEX questionnaire, the black South African poet Dennis Brutus gratefully acknowledges ‘your efforts to discuss and evaluate a problem which bristles with complexities though the essential human issue is certainly clear’. We are in turn grateful to Mr Brutus and to the other respondents for so readily understanding our purpose and for taking up so enthusiastically the discussion which INDEX sought to open. We hope that our readers will continue to be drawn into the debate, as they were by our first article on this subject, and that they will continue to send us their own arguments for and against the cultural boycott. Selections of these will be published in later issues.

The following summary of artists’ views has been organised for the sake of convenience around the six questions which make up the boycott questionnaire. It will be obvious from the extracts, however, that many responses cannot be categorised even in the most general terms of support or non-support for the arts boycott. Therefore the statistical estimates which appear in the summary must be accepted as being only rough ones. We would remind readers that our primary purpose has been to open a debate about a complex problem, not to take a poll. We would also point out that an important group of artists to whom the questionnaire was sent-that is, black South Africans living in their native land – are not represented at all among the respondents. We believe this has happened because official South African policy, which equates support for sanctions against South Africa with support for violent overthrow of the government, makes boycott a subject too dangerous for black artists within the country to discuss. At any rate the fact that this group is missing should be kept in mind when weighing the results of the survey. Finally, a special group of twenty-seven anonymous student-writers from the United States are present among our respondents. Their opinions were solicited as part of an experiment, using the INDEX questionnaire, which was conducted by Dennis Brutus at the University of Texas. Since for these students the cultural boycott is a theoretical rather than an actual problem, as it would be for practising artists, we have recorded their views separately.

1. Do you support a cultural boycott of South Africa while apartheid continues? If so, why? If not, why not?

Of fifty-nine artists and intellectuals responding to the survey, twenty-three express themselves firmly in favour of the arts boycott. Nineteen express themselves firmly against it. Fourteen take positions about the boycott which fall between absolute yes or no. Three respondents take no stand at all.

The sampling of student opinion produced a result heavily in favour of the arts boycott. Out of a total of twenty-seven responses, there were twenty-five positive replies and two negative ones. The arguments on both sides are clear-cut. None of the students’ replies takes account of the complexities which troubled so many of the older respondents to the boycott questionnaire.

A number of reasons for supporting the arts boycott can be identified in the overall sampling. The British actor David Markham feels it is imperative to support the cultural boycott, ‘because any other attitude implies agreement with apartheid’. Muriel Spark, the English novelist, and Luzia Martins, director of the Companhia Teatro Estudio of Portugal, both point to the fundamental illegality of apartheid laws as a justification for boycott action. Sophia Wadia, editor of Indian PEN, the writers’ journal, in Bombay, makes a related argument for the cultural boycott: ‘A cultural boycott is justified on the ground that artists should refuse to be turned into the retainers of an unjust power group.’ Andrew Salkey, the West Indian poet, supports the boycott because it causes ‘minimum deprivation’ to the black majority and maximum deprivation to the oppressive minority.

An argument that appeals to many supporters of the boycott is that the black majority itself in South Africa has called for the international arts boycott to continue, through representatives like Chief Albert Luthuli, the African National Congress and other black organisations. One anonymous respondent writes, ‘The ANC are more effective as leaders of the struggle in South Africa than Arnold Wesker, and they have asked for it [the boycott] as the weapon they want against apartheid.’ The same general idea is echoed by British authors Brigid Brophy, Henry Livings and Alan Plater, by Alan Sapper of the British film and television union ACTT and by Barry Feinberg, a South African writer now living in exile. South African novelist Nadine Gordimer also supports a cultural boycott, as ‘guided by those living in South Africa who are vigorously opposed to apartheid and understand best its cultural consequences.’ Another group of respondents argues for the boycott less on grounds of principle than as a successful tactic for inducing change in South Africa. In using this argument, Dennis Brutus and the Bishop of Stepney, Rev. Trevor Huddleston (two of the original organisers of the arts and sport boycotts of South Africa) agree with two of our Eastern European respondents, the Polish novelist Wlodzimicrz Odojewski and the theoretician Stefan Morawski. Wole Soyinka, the Nigerian poet, also has a pragmatic reason for supporting the boycott: ‘At the very least it contributes to the psychological siege of apartheid and this in itself cannot be negative or futile.’ Two other African writers, Kole Otomoso of Nigeria and Syl Cheney-Coker of Sierra Leone, defend the arts boycott on the basis of their philosophical attitude toward art itself.

Otomoso states, ‘Art is a verbalisation of the dignity of man. Where that dignity is denied, what is there to verbalise except falsehood?’

Some contrasting arguments against the cultural boycott can be mentioned. An important philosophical reason and a pragmatic one are supplied by André Brink, the South African novelist whose latest work Looking on Darkness is the first piece of Afrikaans literature ever to have been banned in South Africa. He opposes the boycott because, first,’vital cultural products can help to stimulate change in South Africa’ and because, secondly, ‘a total boycott (which might be effective) is impracticable, especially in view of South African laws permitting copyright infringement’. The notorious South African copyright laws (see INDEX 1/75, p.37) are also mentioned by another Afrikaans writer, Casper Schmidt, in his argument against the arts boycott. More commonly, however, opponents of the arts boycott argue that it misses its intended target, for only the committed opponents or the innocent victims of apartheid are hurt by cultural isolation, while the bigots remain unchallenged in their prejudices. Several commentators point to an analogy between the artists’ boycott of South Africa and South Africans’ censoring of artists. For example, the South African writer Mary Benson states, “The SA Government censors and bans, why should we who are striving for a just society in that benighted country add to the intellectual and spiritual restrictions?’ John Pauker, an American poet who has travelled to South Africa for the us Information Service, argues, ‘I go wherever they let poetry in.’

A substantial number of respondents to the INDEX questionnaire refuse to classify themselves as either supporters or opponents of the cultural boycott. The reasons vary so widely – from a desire to take ‘each case on its merits, or demerits (Dan Jacobson, South Africa) to a desire to carry out a strictly personal form of boycott (Kurt Vonnegut, USA) – that these replies are best left to be read in full.

2. Do you think that cultural boycott should be used as a form of protest against other governments? Which governments, for example?

Replies to this question follow a pattern close to that of Question 1. Generally those who are willing to support a cultural boycott against South Africa are also willing to consider similar protests against other governments which seem to the respondents to have abridged human rights. Those who are opposed to the South African boycott are also opposed to the use of cultural boycott against other countries. One exception is Henry Livings, a British writer who signed the original 1963 playwrights’ ban. He feels that ‘no other tyrannical government would be vulnerable in the way the SA government is; they seek acceptance as civilised people, it should be denied them’. British playwright Alan Plater makes a second point about the uniqueness of South Africa as a target vulnerable to protest specifically by British artists: ‘South Africa .. . is an English-speaking country and it follows that the work of English writers is in demand. . . .’ Another exception to the pattern of replies is that of Stefan Morawski, the Polish writer and theoretician. He agrees with the principle of cultural boycott, and to Question 2 he answers that cultural boycott would ideally be useful against any government which curtails civil liberties. But he adds that, in practical political terms, such an expanded use of cultural boycott would be futile because it would involve ‘intervention. . . into the internal affairs and ideological battles’ of particular countries. Morawski goes on to note that this last statement refers to the Soviet Union: ‘That’s why I am against mixing up the question of Soviet Jews with the South African problem. The first one has nothing to do with racism: it is a political issue which needs a peremptory response but of another kind.’

Because the Soviet Union recently has become the target of something approaching cultural boycott over Jewish emigration and other problems of civil liberties, it is interesting to examine together the replies of all the Soviet and Eastern European respondents on this point. By and large they remain consistent with their position on South Africa. The Polish novelist Wlodzimierz Odojewski, for example, supports the cultural ‘boycott of any country which practises racial, nationalistic or religious persecutions’. He names the Soviet Union directly as one instance of a country which persecutes special national and religious groups and thus should come under boycott. On the other hand, Zhores Medvedev (the Soviet scientist and dissident writer), Ludĕk Pachman (the Czech chess-master) and A.J. Liehm (the Czech film critic) all oppose the cultural boycott of South Africa. They also oppose arts boycotts against the Soviet Union or Eastern Europe.

Those who support cultural boycott as a form of protest open to artists give many examples of countries besides South Africa and the Soviet Union where such protests might be appropriate. Chile, Brazil, Spain, Uganda, Israel, Great Britain and Rhodesia are all mentioned as possible targets. For example Kole Otomoso, the Nigerian writer and editor of the journal Afriscope states that both Uganda and Rhodesia should come under an arts boycott because of their repressive policies.

3. Do you think that a cultural boycott could be extended beyond the theatre and performing media to other aspects of cultural life (for example films, sport, books)?

Two respondents (Zhores Medvedev and Wlodzimierz Odojewski) understand the question as applying mainly to artistic productions being boycotted abroad. Medvedev opposes any such boycott, arguing from the example of Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s novel: ‘One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich was published partly as a result of a decision by the Politburo, but it would be nonsense to ignore such a book because it was approved by the leaders of the Communist Party.’ Odojewski feels that anti-apartheid productions by South Africans should be positively encouraged.

A majority of those who discuss the question (15 out of 36 respondents) draw attention to sport as an area where the tactic of boycott has been unequivocally successful. Some like Frank Bradlow, the chairman of the South African PEN Club (Cape Town), separate sport from cultural life generally; some do not. Some respondents who disapprove of other forms of cultural protest by playwrights or performers, nevertheless support the sports boycott wholeheartedly. Sir Robert Birley, the British educationalist, and Mary Benson are two examples. In contrast, Jillian Becker, another South African novelist, believes that South African sportsmen would benefit much more by encountering foreigners and hearing direct criticism of apartheid.

In other replies the boycott of public or university lecturing by academicians or authors is mentioned. It is opposed by Nadine Gordimer, Robert Birley and Professor L. C. Knights. But British novelist Margaret Drabble favours such a boycott. The stoppage of books for the South African market is opposed by Margaret Drabble, the playwright John Bowen and British publisher Rex Collings. Kole Otomoso and British novelist Bernice Rubens, however, would press for a book boycott Several respondents, Wole Soyinka, John Bowen, Nadine Gordimer, Bernice Rubens among others, urge the extension of the cultural boycott to films. Margaret Drabble and the critic Martin Esslin disagree. Another extension of the boycott — to television – is urged by playwright Alan Plater: ‘What is crucial is that we must have our defences and our weapons in good order ready for the coming of television in South Africa. Our programmes will be in demand. My hope is that the Writers Guild of Great Britain will insist on a barring clause in writers’ contracts.’South African Frank Bradlow urges the opposite. He argues that extending the cultural boycott ‘is even more counter-productive, especially with television which is a subtle influence on racial attitudes’. Finally, Ethiopian writer Sahle Sellassie expresses himself in favour of boycotting music, dancing and other forms of ‘pure entertainment’ for South Africa, as distinct from literature or theatre of ideas.

4. Do you think that artistic and sporting events from South Africa which tour abroad should come under boycott?
Generally the responses to this question, as to Question 3, treat sport as a separate case where the boycott of touring groups can be especially effective and should be continued. But most respondents would not boycott events which imply a criticism of the status quo. In this connection repeated mention is made of the recent theatre tour to England and the United States by Athol Fugard and a company of black actors from the township of Port Elizabeth, South Africa. Martin Esslin notes, for example, ‘Common sense rather than rigid rules should apply: otherwise plays like Athol Fugard’s would not have been seen in this country.’ Daniel Mdlule, a black South African living in exile, states that the ‘false ambassadors’ from South Africa, those who are apologists for apartheid, should definitely be boycotted. But he would not boycott others – white South Africans like Nadine Gordimer who speak out clearly against racialism and particularly black South African artists like Welcome Msomi, the Zulu dramatist. Mdlule points out quite movingly that black artists are frequently caught in the situation where their access to public notice is severely restricted within South Africa, until they have been successfully noticed abroad.

5. Do you think that there should be specific areas exempted from a cultural boycott? Which, for example?

The word ‘areas’ in this question is open to be understood in either a geographical or a cultural sense. More frequently, respondents took the second choice, although Muriel Spark does propose to exempt from cultural boycott ‘underdeveloped countries where the rich and literate could derive cultural and educational benefit, and where poverty takes care of the access to culture anyway’. David Markham would exempt ‘all countries where internal freedom of thought and action is allowed’ (he suggests Finland tentatively under this heading).

Among those who speak up for the exemption of certain areas of cultural life from the arts boycott, most (including Margaret Drabble, Martin Esslin, Wole Soyinka and British writers Christopher Hope and Naomi Mitchison) mention books. Union leader Alan Sapper states that only factual news reporting is allowed through the boycott which is operated by British film and television technicians. Henry Livings would exempt radio. Several respondents are firm on the point that there should be no exceptions. Bernice Rubens, for example, states, ‘A boycott must be total.’ She acknowledges, however, that’ there are situations which tempt our co-operation’.

6. If you are opposed to the principle of apartheid and also to the idea of a cultural boycott, what other kinds of sanctions or gestures would you propose, if any?

Thirteen respondents, some of them supporters of the cultural boycott, offer additional suggestions in reply to this question. The proposals mostly range themselves around three kinds of sanctions: stricter economic boycott, wider dissemination to South Africa of specifically anti-apartheid ideas and greater cooperation with the protests of artists within South Africa. Economic boycott instead of cultural boycott is urged by Zhores Medvedev and by Yaşar Kemal, the Turkish novelist. Others, like Syl Cheney-Coker of Sierra Leone and Yousuf Duhul of Somalia urge the use of economic boycott as well as cultural boycott. The South African playwright Ronald Harwood prefers as an alternative to cultural boycott what he calls ‘cultural bombardment’ of South Africa in order to destroy her prejudices. The same general idea of opening wider cultural contacts with South Africa is repeated by Frank Bradlow of South African PEN and Lionel Abrahams, the Johannesburg publisher. André Brink, on the other hand, stresses the importance of world support for artists struggling against apartheid within South Africa. In urging a similar point, Christopher Hope and Lionel Abrahams both mention an important protest against apartheid by artists which was staged recently in South Africa and which was successful. Details of the action, as described by Lionel Abrahams, are worth quoting here  ‘Against the background of a sudden proliferation of Black poets writing in English where none had been notable before, the State’s annual Roy Campbell poetry competition was declared to be open to Whites only. Vociferous protests were ignored. Finally some eighty White poets signed a pledge to boycott the competition unless it were made open to all. The effect of such a boycott would have meant that the competition, if operable at all, would lose whatever prestige it had – which, no doubt, is why the presentation of the pledge was followed almost immediately by an announcement that the Whites-only ruling had been made in error.’

In closing this summary of the INDEX survey, we would point out the universal bias against apartheid which is expressed or implied in every response we have received. Whether or not they support the cultural boycott, these artists oppose racial discrimination, and to a person they base their replies on a fundamental sympathy for the sufferings of Black people in South Africa.

This summary has been compiled for INDEX on Censorship by Dorothy Connell.

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