4 Mar 2016 | Campaigns, Middle East and North Africa, mobile, Statements, United Arab Emirates
On the third anniversary of the start of the mass trial of 94 individuals, including government critics and advocates of reform, 10 human rights organisations appeal to the government of the United Arab Emirates to release immediately and unconditionally all those imprisoned solely for peacefully exercising their rights to freedom of expression, association, and assembly as a result of this unfair trial.
The human rights organisations deplore the UAE government’s disregard for its international human rights obligations and its failure to act on recommendations from United Nations human rights experts that it release activists sentenced at the unfair trial.
Dozens of the activists, including prominent human rights defenders, judges, academics, and student leaders, had peacefully called for greater rights and freedoms, including the right to vote in parliamentary elections, before their arrests. They include prominent human rights lawyers Dr. Mohammed Al-Roken and Dr. Mohammed Al-Mansoori, Judge Mohammed Saeed Al-Abdouli, student leader Abdulla Al-Hajri, student and blogger Khalifa Al-Nuaimi, blogger and former teacher Saleh Mohammed Al-Dhufairi, and senior member of the Ras Al-Khaimah ruling family Dr. Sultan Kayed Mohammed Al-Qassimi.
The organisations urge the UAE government to end its continuing use of harassment, arbitrary detention, enforced disappearance, torture and other ill-treatment, and unfair trials against activists, human rights defenders and those critical of the authorities, and its use of national security as a pretext to crackdown on peaceful activism and to stifle calls for reform.
The 10 human rights organisations urge the UAE government, which is serving its second term as a member of the UN Human Rights Council, to demonstrate clearly that it engages with UN human rights bodies by implementing recommendations by UN human rights experts to protect the right to freedom of opinion and expression, and to freedom of association and peaceful assembly.
Speaking to the UN’S Human Rights Council (HRC) on 1 March 2016, the UAE’s Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, Dr Anwar Gargash asserted that “we are determined to continue our efforts to strengthen the protection of human rights at home and to work constructively within the [Human Rights] council to address human rights issues around the world.”
As a member of the UN Human Rights Council, the UAE government must observe its pledge to the Council to uphold international human rights standards and must spare absolutely no effort in implementing human rights recommendations effectively; to do otherwise puts into question the UAE government’s commitment towards the promotion and protection of human rights at home.
The 10 human rights organisations further call on the UAE to mount an independent investigation into credible allegations of torture at the hands of the country’s State Security apparatus, including by immediately accepting the request by Juan Méndez, the Special Rapporteur on torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment, to visit the UAE in the first half of 2016.
In her May 2015 report to the UN Human Rights Council, Gabriela Knaul, the UN Special Rapporteur on the independence of judges and lawyers, recommended that an independent body composed of professionals with international expertise and experience, including in medical forensics, psychology and post-traumatic disorders, should be established to investigate all claims of torture and ill-treatment alleged to have taken place during arrest and/or detention; such a body should have access to all places of detention and be able to interview detainees in private, and its composition should be agreed upon with defendants’ lawyers and families.
On 4 March 2013, the government commenced the mass, unfair trial of 94 defendants before the State Security Chamber of the Federal Supreme Court in Abu Dhabi. Those on trial included eight who were charged and tried in absentia. The government accused them, drawing on vaguely worded articles of the Penal Code, of “establishing an organisation that aimed to overthrow the government,” a charge which they all denied. On 2 July 2013, the court convicted 69 of the defendants, including the eight tried in absentia, sentencing them to prison terms of between seven and 15 years. It acquitted 25 defendants, including 13 women.
On 18 December 2015, the government of Indonesia forcibly returned to the UAE Abdulrahman Bin Sobeih, one of the defendants tried in absentia. He had intended to seek asylum but is now a victim of enforced disappearance in the UAE and at risk of torture and other ill-treatment.
The UAE 94 trial failed to meet international fair trial standards and was widely condemned by human rights organisations and UN human rights bodies. The court accepted as evidence “confessions” made by defendants, even though the defendants repudiated them in court and alleged that State Security interrogators had extracted them through torture or other duress when defendants were in pre-trial incommunicado detention, without any access to the outside world, including to lawyers. The court failed to order an independent and impartial investigation of defendants’ claims that they had been tortured or otherwise ill-treated in secret detention. The defendants were also denied a right of appeal to a higher tribunal, in contravention of international human rights law. Although the State Security Chamber of the Federal Supreme Court serves as a court of first instance, its judgements are final and not subject to appeal.
During the trial, the authorities prevented independent reporting of the proceedings, barring international media and independent trial observers from attending. The authorities also barred some of the defendants’ relatives from the courtroom; others were harassed, detained or imprisoned after they criticised on Twitter the proceedings and publicised torture allegations made by the defendants.
Blogger and Twitter activist Obaid Yousef Al-Zaabi, brother of Dr. Ahmed Al-Zaabi, who is one of the UAE 94 prisoners, has been detained since his arrest in December 2013. He was prosecuted by the State Security Chamber of the Federal Supreme Court on several charges based on his Twitter posts about the UAE 94 trial, including spreading “slander concerning the rulers of the UAE using phrases that lower their status, and accusing them of oppression” and “disseminating ideas and news meant to mock and damage the reputation of a governmental institution.” Despite his acquittal in June 2014, the authorities continue to arbitrarily detain him, even though there is no legal basis for depriving him of his liberty.
On-line activist Osama Al-Najjar was arrested on 17 March 2014 and prosecuted on charges stemming from messages he posted on Twitter defending his father, Hussain Ali Al-Najjar Al-Hammadi, who is also one of the UAE 94 prisoners. In November 2014, he was sentenced by the State Security Chamber of the Federal Supreme Court to three years’ imprisonment on charges including “offending the State” and allegedly “instigating hatred against the State.” He was also convicted of “contacting foreign organisations and presenting inaccurate information,” a charge which followed his meeting with the UN Special Rapporteur on the independence of judges and lawyers during her official visit to the UAE in February 2014. Like all defendants convicted by this court, he was denied the right to appeal the verdict.
In his March 2015 report, Michel Forst, the UN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights defenders, expressed serious concern about the arbitrary arrest and detention of Osama Al-Najjar. He expressed concern that his arrest and detention may have been related to his legitimate activities in advocating for justice and human rights in the UAE and the peaceful exercise of his right to freedom of opinion and expression, as well as his cooperation with the UN and its human rights mechanisms. The Special Rapporteur called on the government to ensure that human rights defenders can carry out their legitimate activities in a safe and an enabling environment, including through open and unhindered access to international human rights bodies such as the UN, its mechanisms and representatives in the field of human rights, without fear of harassment, stigmatisation or criminalisation of any kind.
The 10 human rights organisations also express concern at the introduction of retrogressive legislation and amendment of already repressive laws, thereby further suppressing human rights. In July 2015, the authorities enacted a new law on combating discrimination and hatred with broadly-worded provisions, which further erode rights to freedom of expression and association. The law defines hate speech as “any speech or conduct which may incite sedition, prejudicial action or discrimination among individuals or groups… through words, writings, drawings, signals, filming, singing, acting or gesturing” and provides punishments of a minimum of five years’ imprisonment, as well as heavy fines. It also empowers courts to disband associations deemed to “provoke” such speech, and imprison their founders for a minimum of 10 years, even if the association or its founder have not engaged in such speech. The highly repressive 2012 cybercrime law, used already to imprison dozens of activists and others expressing peaceful criticism of the government, was amended in February 2016 to provide even harsher punishments, including by raising fines from a minimum of 100,000 Dirhams ($27,226) to 2 million Dirhams ($544,521).
Increasingly, the UAE authorities are using these laws and others simply as a means to silence peaceful dissent and other expression on public issues, and to sentence human rights defenders or peaceful critics of the government to lengthy prison terms.
The 10 human rights organisations urgently call on the UAE government to:
- Release immediately and unconditionally all those individuals detained or imprisoned solely for peacefully exercising their rights to freedom of expression, association and assembly
- Prohibit the practice of secret detention and institute safeguards against torture and other ill-treatment, ensuring that all allegations of torture and other ill-treatment are promptly, independently and thoroughly investigated
- Ensure that all persons deprived of their liberty receive a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial court in accordance with international human rights standards, including by having the right to appeal the judgement before a higher court or tribunal
- Amend any legislation which unduly restricts the rights to freedom of expression, association and assembly, and bring all of its laws into full conformity with international human rights standards
- Engage with the UN’s human rights bodies and implement their recommendations
- Accept the request by the Special Rapporteur on torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment to visit the UAE in the first half of 2016
- Allow entry into the UAE of independent human rights organisations, including the co-signatories to this open letter, and commit to implementing their recommendations.
Signed:
Amnesty International
Arabic Network for Human Rights Information (ANHRI)
ARTICLE 19
English PEN
Gulf Centre for Human Rights (GCHR)
Index on Censorship
International Commission of Jurists
International Service for Human Rights (ISHR)
Lawyers Rights Watch Canada (LRWC)
PEN International
16 Feb 2016 | Art and the Law Commentary, Artistic Freedom Commentary and Reports
By Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti, a British playwright.
When I started writing my third play, Behzti, in 2003 I could never have imagined the furore which was going to erupt.
There was an atmosphere of great tension in the lead up to its production in December 2004, and it was indeed an extraordinary time. Mass demonstrations culminated in a riot outside the theatre. I woke up one day to find journalists from five national newspapers on my doorstep. The West Midlands Police informed me there had been threats to my life. I left my home to go into hiding. I was assigned two police officers and came home weeks later to find CCTV installed outside my flat and security railings over my windows. Famous people inundated me with message of sympathy and support. I was offered money for my story. You literally could not have made it up.
Nationally, there ensued a complex debate about freedom of speech, censorship and multi-culturalism. Meanwhile, on a micro level there was both back-biting and solidarity from fellow artists, the now-normal daily interaction with the police and the actual processing of what had happened to me.
I knew immediately I had to write about what was going on. Looking back now, I realise that I was in shock and my mental state was fragile, part of me was soaking up all the arguments, the issues, the various players and agendas.
I knew it had to be a piece of theatre. Any other form would be too simple and straightforward; it was as if nothing else could do justice to the juxtaposing darkness and light of this strange series of events.
Behud was always going to be personal, though never autobiographical. Behzti, for example, is a play about hypocrisy and the pressures of being part of a community, a talk about what’s underneath the British Asian dream. It started out with me wanting to write about my own life as a carer. My experiences around Behzti were complicated, sometimes hilarious and occasionally very painful. My instincts as a writer are dark and comic. I’m attracted to what’s under the surface, and I see nothing wrong with being provocative. The play that came out of all this had to be true to all of these elements.
Behud had to be written, or it would have been the elephant in my head. In the immediate aftermath of Behzti being pulled, I pretty much shunned the media and notoriety. I wanted to get on with my life and reclaim my normality as a jobbing writer. I wrote another two plays commissioned by other companies, worked on my own series for the BBC and also developed a number of screenplays. I found myself being constantly questioned about my feelings about Behzti. People were fascinated, excited, pitying, scornful…it was hard to express how I honestly felt and also to connect with anyone who had gone through anything similar. Again, it was by writing a play that I could pour everything into a fictional text.
Behud had a chequered history from its inception. More than anything I have ever written it divided literary managers, theatres and directors. It seemed as though everyone had their own ideas about what I ought to be saying about the Behzti affair. What I came to realise was that the events of December 2004 had affected the industry deeply, damaged it even. Individuals had their own passionate opinions about that time, so I think it was difficult for people to view it as just another play and it took a long time to get into production.
Everything I feel about that time is in Behud – from my own self-doubt and self-loathing to institutional racism and the friction between artist and state – and ultimately the triumph of the imagination. I wanted the play to be able to stand alone, without the spectre of Behzti behind it. By the time Behud was about to be produced, the rawness of my initial feelings had given way to a degree of acceptance and compassion which I hope are reflected in the piece. I still remain interested in the notion of provocation, the space where an audience opens up and/or closes down, the opportunity to have words heard or to challenge and shake things up – which I expect will always remain a feature of my work.
The fact that the play was going on at all felt like a victory in itself, though not an exorcism or catharsis — that occurred when Behzti was produced in Europe. When the actual production was happening I was of course aware of the various behind-the-scenes conversations and strategising. I too had to get real. In 2004 I had been childless, whereas now I was pregnant with my second child, so I had new responsibilities. My partner and I discussed worst-case scenarios and made plans accordingly. I knew inside I had to be strong and bold and confront whatever came to pass.
Both Soho and Coventry went to great lengths to make sure I was okay about every aspect of the production. I was well supported, and for once I allowed myself to be supported. When any new piece of work is put on, there is always some anxiety about its reception. With Behud, this was heightened to the extreme. As the opening night drew closer, the theatres started to receive letters and protestations from various groups and individuals. A few rogue stories appeared in the press – some Sikhs apparently were outraged that Behud was opening in London on the night of Baisakhi, the Sikh new year. After the first dress rehearsal, Hamish Glen told Lisa Goldman, the director, and me that he had been asked by the police to pull the play. My heart sank and it felt like real life was horribly, weirdly mirroring art. I just kept telling myself to keep going. To his enormous credit, Hamish stood firm but the implicit threat and police presence created an incredibly difficult atmosphere for the artistic team and actors to work within.
As for the question of marketing of Behud – was the image the right one to sell the play? With hindsight, I think it probably wasn’t as it didn’t truly reflect the play’s tone and content. I was of course disappointed that audiences were lower than expected (both my previously produced plays had had sell-out runs). There were comments from people saying that the Asian community didn’t even know Behud was on. I do find it sad that the theatres felt they weren’t able to reach out to an Asian audience. I was thrilled when Soho staged a reading of Behzti during the run. This was a great achievement by the theatre, but it was a shame that the event wasn’t advertised in any form. There is only so much an artist can do, it is also up to the institutions he/she works alongside to meet impending risk with courage.
I was heartened by some incredible feedback on the play from different people who saw it. And it was great to hear the muffled laughter of one of the Sikh men who came as part of the deposition in Coventry. Whether he was laughing with or at the play, it at least elicited some kind of reaction.
The important thing for me is that Behud was produced, and now the published text is out there for anyone who’s interested. The play, production and surrounding strategies were by no means perfect, but they were heartfelt. The fact that they happened at all is a step in the right direction.
At the end of Behud, Tarlochan, the writer, picks up her pen and continues writing. That’s what I feel my role is – to keep on creating drama I believe in, to maintain my true voice, writer from the heart and hopefully make work that is both challenging and entertaining.
And as for Behzti, it’s life too goes on. As well as winning the 2005 Susan Smith Blackburn prize, the play has had readings in Canada and London, been translated into French, published across Europe and toured France and Belgium. It has also become a set text in university drama departments across the UK.
Finally, would it be possible to do Behzti again in the UK? I certainly hope so, as I’d love to work on it some more. Doubtless it would be a tough challenge. I hope one day someone will want to take that challenge with me.
16 Feb 2016
By Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti, 16 February 2016
Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti is a British playwright.
The playwright Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti found herself in the eye of a storm that had profound effects on her personally and on theatre as a whole.
When I started writing my third play, Behzti, in 2003 I could never have imagined the furore which was going to erupt.
There was an atmosphere of great tension in the lead up to its production in December 2004, and it was indeed an extraordinary time. Mass demonstrations culminated in a riot outside the theatre. I woke up one day to find journalists from five national newspapers on my doorstep. The West Midlands Police informed me there had been threats to my life. I left my home to go into hiding. I was assigned two police officers and came home weeks later to find CCTV installed outside my flat and security railings over my windows. Famous people inundated me with message of sympathy and support. I was offered money for my story. You literally could not have made it up.
Nationally, there ensued a complex debate about freedom of speech, censorship and multi-culturalism. Meanwhile, on a micro level there was both back-biting and solidarity from fellow artists, the now-normal daily interaction with the police and the actual processing of what had happened to me – *with friends and family and also in my own head**don’t know if thats necessary*.
I knew immediately I had to write about what was going on. Looking back now, I realise that I was in shock and my mental state was fragile, part of me was soaking up all the arguments, the issues, the various players and agendas.
I knew it had to be a piece of theatre. Any other form would be too simple and straightforward; it was as if nothing else could do justice to the juxtaposing darkness and light of this strange series of events.
Behud was always going to be personal, though never autobiographical. Behzti, for example, is a play about hypocrisy and the pressures of being part of a community, a talk about what’s underneath the British Asian dream. It started out with me wanting to write about my own life as a carer. My experiences around Behzti were complicated, sometimes hilarious and occasionally very painful. My instincts as a writer are dark and comic. I’m attracted to what’s under the surface, and I see nothing wrong with being provocative. The play that came out of all this had to be true to all of these elements.
Behud had to be written, or it would have been the elephant in my head. In the immediate aftermath of Behzti being pulled, I pretty much shunned the media and notoriety. I wanted to get on with my life and reclaim my normality as a jobbing writer. I wrote another two plays commissioned by other companies, worked on my own series for the BBC and also developed a number of screenplays. I found myself being constantly questioned about my feelings about Behzti. People were fascinated, excited, pitying, scornful…it was hard to express how I honestly felt and also to connect with anyone who had gone through anything similar. Again, it was by writing a play that I could pour everything into a fictional text.
Behud had a chequered history from its inception. More than anything I have ever written it divided literary managers, theatres and directors. It seemed as though everyone had their own ideas about what I ought to be saying about the Behzti affair. What I came to realise was that the events of December 2004 had affected the industry deeply, damaged it even. Individuals had their own passionate opinions about that time, so I think it was difficult for people to view it as just another play and it took a long time to get into production.
Everything I feel about that time is in Behud – from my own self-doubt and self-loathing to institutional racism and the friction between artist and state – and ultimately the triumph of the imagination. I wanted the play to be able to stand alone, without the spectre of Behzti behind it. By the time Behud was about to be produced, the rawness of my initial feelings had given way to a degree of acceptance and compassion which I hope are reflected in the piece. I still remain interested in the notion of provocation, the space where an audience opens up and/or closes down, the opportunity to have words heard or to challenge and shake things up – which I expect will always remain a feature of my work.
The fact that the play was going on at all felt like a victory in itself, though not an exorcism or catharsis — that occurred when Behzti was produced in Europe. When the actual production was happening I was of course aware of the various behind-the-scenes conversations and strategising. I too had to get real. In 2004 I had been childless, whereas now I was pregnant with my second child, so I had new responsibilities. My partner and I discussed worst-case scenarios and made plans accordingly. I knew inside I had to be strong and bold and confront whatever came to pass.
Both Soho and Coventry went to great lengths to make sure I was okay about every aspect of the production. I was well supported, and for once I allowed myself to be supported. When any new piece of work is put on, there is always some anxiety about its reception. With Behud, this was heightened to the extreme. As the opening night drew closer, the theatres started to receive letters and protestations from various groups and individuals. A few rogue stories appeared in the press – some Sikhs apparently were outraged that Behud was opening in London on the night of Baisakhi, the Sikh new year. After the first dress rehearsal, Hamish Glen told Lisa Goldman, the director, and me that he had been asked by the police to pull the play. My heart sank and it felt like real life was horribly, weirdly mirroring art. I just kept telling myself to keep going. To his enormous credit, Hamish stood firm but the implicit threat and police presence created an incredibly difficult atmosphere for the artistic team and actors to work within.
As for the question of marketing of Behud – was the image the right one to sell the play? With hindsight, I think it probably wasn’t as it didn’t truly reflect the play’s tone and content. I was of course disappointed that audiences were lower than expected (both my previously produced plays had had sell-out runs). There were comments from people saying that the Asian community didn’t even know Behud was on. I do find it sad that the theatres felt they weren’t able to reach out to an Asian audience. I was thrilled when Soho staged a reading of Behzti during the run. This was a great achievement by the theatre, but it was a shame that the event wasn’t advertised in any form. There is only so much an artist can do, it is also up to the institutions he/she works alongside to meet impending risk with courage.
I was heartened by some incredible feedback on the play from different people who saw it. And it was great to hear the muffled laughter of one of the Sikh men who came as part of the deposition in Coventry. Whether he was laughing with or at the play, it at least elicited some kind of reaction.
The important thing for me is that Behud was produced, and now the published text is out there for anyone who’s interested. The play, production and surrounding strategies were by no means perfect, but they were heartfelt. The fact that they happened at all is a step in the right direction.
At the end of Behud, Tarlochan, the writer, picks up her pen and continues writing. That’s what I feel my role is – to keep on creating drama I believe in, to maintain my true voice, writer from the heart and hopefully make work that is both challenging and entertaining.
And as for Behzti, it’s life too goes on. As well as winning the 2005 Susan Smith Blackburn prize, the play has had readings in Canada and London, been translated into French, published across Europe and toured France and Belgium. It has also become a set text in university drama departments across the UK.
Finally, would it be possible to do Behzti again in the UK? I certainly hope so, as I’d love to work on it some more. Doubtless it would be a tough challenge. I hope one day someone will want to take that challenge with me.
25 Jan 2016 | Afghanistan, Asia and Pacific, Campaigns, mobile, Statements
In response to the attacks on Tolo TV on 20 January, in which eight people have been killed and 30 others injured, we stand in solidarity with the Afghan media community. We condemn this and all other attacks on Afghanistan’s journalists unreservedly and applaud their courage to stand together undeterred by those who seek to silence them. We want to tell our colleagues throughout Afghanistan they are not alone; the international community is behind them. The journalists and media workers of Afghanistan are playing a leading role in working fearlessly to ensure that the voices of violent extremists do not dominate the news agenda. We remain ready to help them in this perilous endeavour.
Signed by (and including links to additional statements on the Tolo attack from these organizations),
Article 19, UK
Committee to Protect Journalists, USA
Free Press Unlimited, Netherlands
Index on Censorship, UK
Institute for War and Peace Reporting, UK
International Freedom of Expression Exchange (IFEX), Canada
International News Safety Institute UK
International Media Support, Denmark
International Press Institute, Austria
World Association of Newspapers, France
Open Society Foundations, Program on Independent Journalism, UK
Reporters Without Borders, France
Rory Peck Trust, UK
