28 Jan 2025 | Afghanistan, Asia and Pacific, News and features, Volume 53.04 Winter 2024
This article first appeared in Volume 53, Issue 4 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled Unsung Heroes: How musicians are raising their voices against oppression. Read more about the issue here. The issue was published on 12 December 2024.
After three years of Taliban rule, nobody really believed women could be erased further from public life in Afghanistan.
“But the Taliban found another way: they’ve restricted our voices and faces,” said Maryam, an Afghan legal scholar and journalist.
Maryam, who uses a pseudonym, was referring to the Taliban’s “vice and virtue” laws, which were passed in August and ban women from speaking, singing or showing their faces in public. If women break the rules, they – or their male relatives – face imprisonment.
Maryam spoke to Index in hushed tones over Signal from the relative safety of her living room in Afghanistan.
The new laws typify the rapid intensification of the Taliban’s crackdown, which has already seen women banned from parks, workplaces, schools and universities since it took power in August 2021. Once implemented monthly, harsh laws, decrees, house raids and arrests are now a daily occurrence.
“It’s a very intense attack on the dignity of humans and the dignity of women,” said Shaharzad Akbar, executive director of Afghan rights group Rawadari. “Before, there was some wiggle room, but it’s very scary because now it’s law, it’s out there and people are required to comply with it.”
The crackdown isn’t manifesting just through new laws.
“The Taliban have also been destroying institutions and putting new institutions in place to actually implement and carry out their vision of society,” said Akbar. She should know, having chaired the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission before it was abruptly dismantled when the Taliban toppled Kabul.
At that time, Maryam was on the cusp of completing her legal training, having graduated from university, and working as an assistant lawyer in the country’s courts, often assisting on highly sensitive divorce and domestic violence cases that drew the ire of Taliban members.
After the takeover, the Taliban closed the country’s only bar association. All existing licences to practise law were revoked, putting lawyers out of work. Many like Maryam, who were still waiting for their licences to be formally approved, never received their documentation. As the Taliban filled the Ministry of Justice and the courts with its own lawyers, judges and prosecutors, Maryam’s chances of a legal career vanished.
Maryam was just a toddler when the Taliban was overthrown in 2001. Now 26 years old, she finds it hard speaking about the early “bad days” after the Taliban’s recent return to power and the subsequent unravelling of decades of progress on women’s rights.
She has relatives – mostly judges and their immediate families – who have managed to leave the country. Yet, like many Afghans, she’s not been deemed enough “at risk” to warrant evacuation. Instead, she’s focused on doing what she can while living under the constant threat of Taliban restrictions.
Through word of mouth, she established a homeschool teaching English to girls in her neighbourhood. It was one of the many underground schools that proliferated across Afghanistan after September 2021 when the Taliban issued a ban on girls over the age of 11 attending secondary school.
However, as rumours swirled about the rising number of secret schools, the authorities began doing door-to-door searches. She received messages over Telegram from Taliban fighters warning that she’d be thrown into jail if she didn’t stop “working against the regime”.
Maryam said she had no choice but to close the school.
“We already were in danger because of the position of my family in the justice system,” she said. “I didn’t want to make more danger for myself, my family or my students.”
In December 2022, the Taliban banned all Afghan women from attending university. Maryam’s husband, an engineer, was teaching at a local university, and he was devastated that his female students were being forced to give up their studies.
Under the most recent law, he faces losing his job if he leaves work to accompany Maryam anywhere. Without him, she’s forbidden from leaving the house.
The Taliban has created hundreds of positions for men to teach in gender-segregated religious schools – madrassas – across the country, while women with university degrees and teaching experience are forced to stay at home.
Rawadari – one of the few organisations that has maintained a network on the ground documenting violations of civil and political rights since the takeover – has been closely following the detrimental impact of the education ban on women’s and girls’ mental health across Afghanistan’s 34 provinces.
The overwhelming sense of ‘hopelessness’ is undeniable, said Akbar, who now lives in the UK in exile but still finds reports of what’s happening back home extremely difficult to hear.
“I think most of the girls believed this will be temporary and never imagined they would experience what their mothers had experienced,” she said. “They are depressed and they’re struggling to keep their hopes alive.”
Maryam continues to battle her own mental health struggles as a result of the restrictions, but has found some solace in working in the shadows as an online educator, mental health trainer, journalist and advocate.
However, as the internet and social media platforms are increasingly monitored by the Taliban and its spies, she has had to be more careful about her online interactions.
“I can’t trust who is safe and who is not,” she said. “There are women on Instagram and other places who are looking for women who are disobeying Taliban rule. For that reason, I don’t share anything about myself. They just hear my voice and the teachings I’m offering them. I’m scared and my colleagues are scared, but we go forward, do the job and provide teaching for those who need it.”
Unsilenced in exile
There is also growing momentum from Afghan women internationally to give their sisters inside the country a voice. One such woman is Qazi Marzia Babakarkhail, who became a judge in Afghanistan at 26 – the same age that Maryam is now.
Babakarkhail worked in the family courts, later setting up a small shelter for divorced women in Afghanistan and a school for Afghan refugees in Pakistan. Those initiatives were a lifeline to dozens of women, but they soon drew unwanted attention from the Taliban and she fled the country in 2008 after two assassination attempts.
Since moving to the UK, Babakarkhail has learnt English and now works as a caseworker for an MP near Manchester. As well as helping campaign for the evacuation of hundreds of female judges, she speaks daily to former colleagues and friends still trapped in Afghanistan.
Her advocacy earned her an invitation to an all-Afghan women’s summit held in Tirana, Albania, in September. It was the first time since the Taliban regained power that such a large group of Afghan women – more than 100 from across Europe, the USA, Canada and Afghanistan itself – had been given an international platform to discuss the rollback of women’s rights. They are so often excluded from conversations on Afghanistan’s future.
This marked a sharp contrast with a UN meeting held earlier in June in Doha, which was heavily criticised for inviting Taliban leaders and neglecting to bring Afghan women’s voices to the table.
Babakarkhail said the summit had opened ‘a new window of hope’ for Afghan women. Seeing women who defied the Taliban travel to Tirana reminded her of her own perilous journey and gave her hope for Afghanistan’s future.
“They are real activists because they are still fighting and still stay in Afghanistan,” she said. “Of course they do a lot of things silently, but they will go back. They know how to deal with the Taliban and they will keep silent. They made us proud.”
She is hopeful the summit – which discussed the unravelling human rights situation, the urgent need for humanitarian aid and international recognition of the Taliban’s mistreatment of women as “gender apartheid” – will provide the necessary wake-up call to the international community.
“We don’t want the United Nations or other countries to recognise the Taliban as a government,” she said. “This group is a stand against the Taliban and a stand for people in Afghanistan.”
Pushing for accountability
The international push for accountability, both at the International Criminal Court – which has an ongoing investigation into alleged crimes committed in Afghanistan – and the groundbreaking move to bring a gender persecution case against the Taliban at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) – are other signs that the dial may finally be shifting in Afghan women’s favour.
Akbar has been one of the leading voices campaigning to bring the case to the ICJ. Although she is appalled by what is happening to her motherland, she believes these judicial measures and the summit in Tirana will help ensure Afghan women’s voices are no longer silenced.
“We have a saying in Farsi,” said Akbar. “We say, ‘Drop by drop, you make a river.’ All of this will come together to become this river of hope and this river of defiance against the Taliban. The dream really is that we show the Taliban that the power of people everywhere in the world is with the women of Afghanistan and not with them.”
For Maryam, such developments are already reviving dreams that Afghan women’s rights and freedoms will one day be restored.
“I know that the suffering that women are enduring under the Taliban’s gender apartheid regime is unique,” she said.
She hopes the ongoing efforts, both by women like her inside the country and by those elsewhere in the world, will be enough.
“We are motivating and inspiring each other. We will win and the future will be ours – women’s.”
17 Oct 2024 | Canada, India, News and features, Volume 53.01 Spring 2024
This article was first published in the Spring 2024 issue of Index on Censorship. We are republishing it here after Canadian prime minister Justin Trudeau accused India of making a “horrific mistake” in violating Canadian sovereignty at an inquiry into the death of Hardeep Singh Nijjar.
Last June, Hardeep Singh Nijjar, a 45-year-old Sikh activist campaigning for Khalistan, a separate homeland for his co-religionists, was shot dead in British Columbia, Canada.
The murder happened in a car park, and a video emerged of his body collapsed over the steering wheel. Three months later, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau claimed there were “credible allegations” that the Indian government was involved in the murder. India reacted angrily, terming Trudeau’s charge “absurd”. India removed diplomats from Canada, asked Canada to reduce its diplomatic presence in India, and significantly delayed Canadian visa applications. The USA, Canada’s closest ally, expressed concern but did not say more.
In recent years, India’s strategic importance has increased for three reasons: its growing economy, its outwardly democratic credentials and its potential emergence as the counterweight to China – not only in Asia but on the international stage.
Western governments have been queuing up to invite Prime Minister Narendra Modi to visit their countries and rolling out the red carpet for him, or they’ve been visiting India and announcing investment deals – even if actual inflows may be puny compared with the bombastic claims.
Sikhs and India
Sikhs form about 2% of India’s population, and most of them live in the fertile and prosperous state of Punjab along with Hindus, Muslims and others. In the early-1970s, the Shiromani Akali Dal, a political party representing Sikh and Punjabi interests, passed a resolution seeking greater autonomy. By the late 1970s, a militant movement emerged, seeking an independent homeland called Khalistan, carved out of India.
Extremists representing Khalistani interests attacked government targets and terrorised civilians. Many militants garrisoned themselves in the holiest Sikh shrine, Amritsar’s Golden Temple, and in June 1984 then prime minister Indira Gandhi sent troops into the temple to eliminate the threat.
Hundreds died in what became known as Operation Bluestar. Four months later, on 31 October, Gandhi was assassinated by two of her bodyguards – both Sikh. In the retaliatory violence that followed, thousands of Sikhs were killed in northern India.
Indian security forces pursued the militants ruthlessly, and the Khalistan movement subsided. It survives among Sikhs abroad who dream of an independent Sikh nation, but in India there is little support for Sikh separatism.
However, Sikhs overseas and in India remember the attack on the Golden Temple, the pogrom of Sikhs in 1984 and the lack of justice. While Indian leaders have since expressed regret over the violence, and a Sikh economist – Manmohan Singh – was India’s prime minister from 2004 until 2014, the wounds have not healed. That accounts for the nostalgic longing for an independent homeland among some Sikhs abroad.
Nijjar’s killing would have remained largely forgotten, but in November the USA charged an Indian national, Nikhil Gupta, with attempting to hire an assassin to kill Gurpatwant Singh Pannun, a Sikh separatist leader who is the general counsel for Sikhs for Justice and who lives in the USA. Gupta, the USA alleged, was acting under the directions of an Indian government official and had offered $100,000 to a potential assassin.
He did not know that the man he was trying to hire was, in fact, a US agent, and Gupta is now in a Czech jail, awaiting extradition to the USA.
While the Indian government denied any role, its response to the US charge was more muted and less full of bluster than its response to Trudeau. US President Joe Biden was invited as the guest of honour to India’s day of pomp and glory – the Republic Day parade – in January this year. Biden did not make the trip and while he did not give any specific reason, diplomatic circles believe it was meant as a snub to India, which has elections later this year. The incumbent Modi would have loved the footage of Biden by his side, watching the might of India’s defence forces marching by.
There is no evidence of India’s role in either Nijjar’s murder or the plot against Pannun, and they could just as easily have been rogue operations. But the US charge-sheet is fairly detailed, and India’s subdued response raises questions. India’s current government has long admired the long reach of Israel’s Mossad, which has a record of carrying out spectacular attacks against those Israel considers its enemies.
Could some Indian officials have been tempted to imitate Israel as a form of flattery?
Transnational repression
Carrying out violent acts against individuals or organisations that a government considers hostile to its interests in a friendly country is an extreme form of transnational repression. But India has practised many other subtler forms of preventing contact between Indian dissidents seeking a global platform and foreign researchers or journalists wishing to report on India. It has expelled journalists, prevented academics from entering the country, stopped its own journalists or human rights activists from travel and got Indian embassies to complain loudly against foreign reporting of India.
Most recently, Vanessa Dougnac, who had been the longest-staying foreign correspondent in India, said she would leave the country after India revoked her status as an Overseas Citizen of India (OCI). (She is married to an Indian national, and so qualifies for such a status.) The title is misleading: OCI does not grant any citizenship rights such as the right to vote, but it grants the individual a permanent, long-stay visa and the ability to work (except in certain sectors). Dougnac was told her reporting for various French publications created a “biased, negative” perception of India. She wrote a heartfelt lament while leaving the country she considers her own, saying the government’s onerous conditions made it impossible for her to work there.
Earlier, the overseas citizenship of Ashok Swain, who teaches peace and conflict studies at Uppsala University in Sweden, was revoked. In November 2020, Swain was informed his OCI would be revoked because of his “inflammatory speeches” and “anti-India activities”. Swain asked for specific instances and requested for the decision to be overturned so he could visit his unwell mother back in India. His request was denied.
Swain sued the government, and in July 2023 the court ruled in his favour, saying the government needed to provide proper reasons. Later that month, the Indian embassy in Stockholm sent him another note, long on rhetoric and short on specifics, saying he was “hurting religious sentiments”, “destabilising” India’s social fabric and “spreading hate propaganda”. Swain was tweeting too much and too critically about India, the order said, hurting the country’s image abroad. Swain’s case will be heard in May.
The OCI status was created not as a right but as a privilege or an entitlement, because people of Indian origin who lived abroad had been clamouring for dual nationality, which Indian laws don’t permit. It was created in 2005 under the 1955 Citizenship Act, which allows foreign citizens of Indian origin or foreigners married to Indian citizens to enter the country without a visa and reside, work and hold property there, among other benefits.
But lately the government is wary of OCI journalists and academics visiting or living in the country, especially if the government does not like their reporting or investigations. In March 2021, India required OCIs to seek a permit to conduct research, for mountaineering, for missionary, journalistic or Tablighi (a Muslim sect) activities, or to visit any area of India deemed as “protected”.
According to the human rights and law-focused web portal Article 14, which has examined the issue in great detail, more than 4.5 million people around the world are OCIs, and data released by the government in response to an inquiry under India’s Right to Information Act, showed that the Modi administration had cancelled at least 102 OCI cards between 2014 and May 2023. In theory, those whose OCIs are cancelled can apply for a regular visa to visit India, but the government reserves the right to blacklist them which would, in effect, bar them forever from entering the country.
In November 2022, 82-year-old UK-based activist Amrit Wilson received a letter that tore to shreds her official ties with India. The letter, from the Indian high commission, blamed her for “anti-India activities” and for making “detrimental propaganda” which was “inimical” to India’s sovereignty and integrity. There was, of course, no evidence – but she was asked to provide reasons within a fortnight why her status should not be revoked. Wilson sent a detailed response, but several months later the government replied that her response wasn’t “plausible”, and cancelled her status. She is now appealing through the Indian court system. In its response, the government pointed out some of her tweets for being critical of the government and an article that opposed the revoking of the special status granted to the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir.
The government claims it can cancel the status of those who have shown “disaffection to the constitution” or “assisted an enemy during war”, or done anything that it believes is against the interests of “sovereignty, integrity and security” of India.
Chetan Ahimsa (Kumar), a leading actor in Kannada films, had his status revoked briefly, too. Ahimsa is a US citizen. He was arrested in India after he criticised a ban on Muslim students wearing the hijab in schools in the southern state of Karnataka. In court, the government said India could expel people who were “undesirable” and foreigners did not have the right to free speech in India. The court stayed the cancellation.
More famously, in 2019, the USA-based writer Aatish Taseer, whose mother is the Indian journalist Tavleen Singh and whose father is the slain Pakistani politician Salman Taseer, had his overseas citizenship cancelled after he wrote a cover story in Time magazine asking if India could survive another five years of Modi.
In Taseer’s case, the government claimed his status was revoked because he had “concealed” the fact that his father was a Pakistani national. Earlier, in 2014, Christine Mehta, a researcher at Amnesty International, had her OCI revoked after she studied India’s human rights record in Jammu and Kashmir.
A gigantic conspiracy?
A web-based portal called Disinfo Lab has, according to a report in The Washington Post, been compiling information of critics overseas, Indian or not, and blaming them for undermining India. The portal establishes links between the critics and the philanthropic billionaire George Soros, sometimes by connecting disconnected dots, to present an image of a gigantic conspiracy.
At the same time, foreign-based web portals critical of India are being taken offline inside the country. The latest to suffer such erasure is Hindutva Watch, which compiled human rights violations by Hindu fundamentalists. India has escalated demands on X, formerly Twitter, and many accounts critical of the government have been “withheld” recently, including those operated by foreigners who live abroad. X has complied, but issued a statement expressing disapproval of the government’s action. Clearly, X’s owner Elon Musk, who claims to champion free speech, has a different standard for different countries, and in the Indian case, he has meekly complied with many requests.
Academics are also being turned away. Within weeks of Modi’s election in 2014, Penny Vera-Sanso, of Birkbeck University in London, who had been visiting India since 1990 and writes about gender, was denied entry. In 2022, Lindsay Bremner, who teaches architecture at the University of Westminster, had a valid research visa when she arrived in India, but was told at the airport that she could not enter. Earlier that year, Flippo Osella, who teaches anthropology at the University of Sussex, was sent back. He is an expert on Kerala and has been visiting India for 30 years. The government claimed his research on caste was deemed “sensitive”. Osella understands Malayalam and has studied the Ezhava community. He has written about Mamootty, a popular actor in Kerala, and was working with local institutions on predicting weather. His research was supported by the UK government, but he was treated brusquely and not allowed to contact friends in India.
India has also barred writers and academics who have tourist visas but who might conduct research, which would technically violate Indian rules. In 2018, Kathryn Hummel, an Australian poet, was turned away at Bangalore airport and Pakistani researcher Annie Zaman was similarly sent back and prevented from attending a conference in Delhi. When I sought out some of the academics denied entry, none of them wanted to speak, on or off the record, because they did not wish to jeopardise their visas in the future. Some American journalists, Indian origin or otherwise, too have had visa requests delayed or denied.
When graduate students and academics at several US universities organised a three-day conference in 2021 called Dismantling Global Hindutva, which examined the rise of Hindu nationalism in India and its effects on Indian society, several academics and potential speakers were warned off from participating, and a few backed out, so as not to jeopardise future visits to India. Indian residents in the USA who support the Indian government wrote to faculty heads and university administrators complaining against those academics. Academics in the USA who are of Indian origin and are critical of India have frequently been targeted by concerted efforts from pro-government overseas Indians, calling for their dismissal or for them to be disciplined.
Several journalists and human rights activists living in India find themselves mired in legal cases, which means they must have clearance from courts or other appropriate authorities before leaving the country. This has prevented several writers and human rights activists from participating at events overseas.
Others with clean records also find that they are suspect. Sanna Irshad Mattoo, a Kashmiri photojournalist whose photographs earned her the Pulitzer Prize in 2022, was prevented from leaving for Paris to launch a book featuring her work, even though she had a valid French visa.
India is erecting a barrier between scholars and their subjects, reporters and their stories, and closing off doors and windows, narrowing Indian minds and hardening outlooks.
And it flexes its muscles abroad, shouting at critics, preventing their travel and access, and – if the Canadian and US accusations are true – attempting to eliminate those it disagrees with.
But it will hold elections in a few months, and encomiums praising the world’s largest democracy will follow. Naturally.
25 Sep 2024 | News and features
We are writing to bring attention to the case of the visual and performance artist and master’s student, ODEE, who is being sued for damages (including legal fees likely upwards of £500,000) in the High Court in London on the 25 and 26 September 2024. The lawsuit has been brought against ODEE by Samherji, one of Europe’s largest fishing companies based in Iceland, for the unauthorised use of its website and brand.
ODEE’s art piece centres around the concept of corporate responsibility through a fictional apology – via a website he created and a mural at the Reykjavík Art Gallery – for the alleged corruption committed by Samherji to secure fishing quotas in Namibia revealed in 2019 by the whistleblower, Jóhannes Stefansson, and which quickly became known as the #Fishrot Scandal.
Samherji has exercised its rights to challenge ODEE by issuing an interim injunction to require him to take down the website with the spoof apology, and he did so in May 2023. The court will need to decide whether to vary or discharge the injunction, and whether the artist should be liable for Samerjhi’s legal costs and alleged damages. However, the question remains as to whether such action is proportionate, or an attempt to silence those who speak out against corruption.
The alleged corruption is currently the focus of a high-profile trial in Namibia in which 10 suspects have been charged including the former Ministers of Justice and Fisheries – the majority of whom have been held in custody since 2019, and who may face even longer jail terms if convicted. Investigations into Samherji’s activities are continuing in Iceland.
Ensuring that whistleblowers can disclose information about wrongdoing in the public interest is vital for democratic accountability – so that proper investigations can occur, and those responsible are held to account. Protecting whistleblowers safeguards the public’s right to know, an essential element of the right to freedom of expression.
Artistic freedom of expression – through film, theatre, literature, painting and conceptual art, among many other media – is also vital to a healthy democracy and to public discourse and the development of ideas. Artistic expression allows individuals, communities and societies to consider and examine moral and ethical choices, as well as how power works and affects us, whether it is political, social or economic.
Freedom of expression links whistleblowers and artists – individuals must be protected from the powerful who wish to stop them speaking up. Jóhannes Stefansson and ODEE deserve our support. In today’s world, where we face existential challenges to protect our natural resources, environment and climate systems, we can ill afford to let these voices be silenced.
We, the undersigned, therefore, urge Samherji to drop its disproportionate case against the artist, ODEE.
SIGNED BY:
African Centre for Media & Information Literacy (Nigeria)
Artistic Freedom Initiative (International)
Blueprint for Free Speech (International)
Daphne Caruana Galizia Foundation (Malta)
Disruption Network Lab e.V. (Germany)
Centre for Free Expression (Canada)
Civil Liberties Union for Europe
Citizens Network Watchdog Poland
Climate Whistleblowers (France)
GlobaLeaks (Italy)
Government Accountability Project (USA)
Index on Censorship (UK)
Institute for Public Policy Research (Namibia)
Justice and Environment (EU)
Oživení (Czech Republic)
Pištaljka (Serbia)
Platform to Protect Whistleblowers in Africa (PPLAAF)
Pro Publico (International)
Protect (UK)
Shadow World Investigations (UK)
Spotlight on Corruption (UK)
The Whistleblower House (South Africa)
Transparency International Ireland
Transparency International Italy
Whistleblowers-Netzwerk e.V. (Germany)
Whistleblower Chile
Whistleblowing International Network
* Protect is a registered Charity in England and Wales No.1025557
** WIN is a Scottish Charitable Incorporated Organisation No. SC048595
22 Aug 2024 | Media Freedom, Middle East and North Africa, News and features, Syria
Media freedom has been slowly dying in Syria since the Arab Spring, suffocated by a lack of regular funding and poor governance.
The rise of the Arab Socialist Ba’ath Party and Hafez al-Assad’s coup in 1970 led to state dominance over all its institutions, resulting in a media monopoly that supports the regime. State television and several official daily newspapers have controlled the media landscape for over 41 years.
A rare exception was the launch of the online news service Kulluna Shuraka (We Are All Partners) as a volunteer project in 2003. In 2006, the service expanded thanks to donations from Syrian figures, businessmen, and some grants.
The outbreak of popular protests in Syria in March 2011 resulted in a rare improvement in the country’s media landscape with a rash of alternative local newspapers such as Ain Al-Madina, Tamaddun, Kulluna Suriyun, Zaytun, Souriatna and Enab Baladi emerging, primarily funded by donations and financial support from international organisations.
The emergence of a range of non-state-controlled media and journalism sources allowed Syrians for the first time in decades to access news that the Assad regime sought to obscure and prevent from being broadcast.
That media freedom has been short-lived.
Over the past eight years, the Syrian media landscape has seen the closure of most of these independent media outlets due to a lack of funding – of those outlets listed above, only Enab Baladi continues to publish regularly, supported by many individual donations.
Kulluna Shuraka’s financial situation began to worsen in 2016, forcing the website to become volunteer-run again. The site ultimately closed in 2018, although its social media channels continue to be run by volunteers.
Ayman Abdel Nour, the former director of the Kulluna Shuraka website, points out that external funding entities in Europe, the USA and Canada usually provide support under explicit contracts, meaning that funding can often be withdrawn at short notice. In a conversation with the Monitoring Fund, Abdel Nour explained that some funders give just a month’s notice of funding ceasing and even just 24 hours in some cases. This has left many Syrian media outlets in difficult circumstances, with journalists suddenly finding themselves out of work despite ongoing financial commitments.
The newspaper Kulluna Suriyun which translates as We Are All Syrians faced a similar shortfall in funding. It was initially launched through individual donations and support from a fundraising entity of the same name. The funding stopped when this entity demanded that the newspaper act as its official spokesperson, according to journalist Hussein Bru, who managed it for several years. Later, Kulluna Suriyun received funding from a Danish organisation to cover printing costs and some expenses; this support was limited and focused on printing and salaries for some journalists in Turkey and Syria.
Bru noted that work continued for a long time with several colleagues working without payment. The highest fee he ever received was 450 euros. The newspaper ceased publication in 2018 due to a lack of financial support after it transitioned from a bi-monthly publication to a monthly magazine, a reality that many Syrian media outlets experienced as they faced similar challenges.
Syrian journalist and activist Alaa Muhammad says the drying-up of funding forces institutions to reduce their staff dramatically which results in a large number of journalists being made redundant at one time, affecting organisations’ ability to produce high-quality journalistic reports with accurate information, even if operations continue and they do not close their doors.
Muhammad believes this is a source of anxiety for many, as they live in a state of financial instability and constant worry about the future, which impacts their performance and their capacity for innovation and development. “This loss of funding might push institutions to seek alternative funding sources, which could be tied to specific agendas, making them operate according to these agendas instead of leveraging their independence,” she says.
This also has a psychological impact, she continues, as journalists face immense pressure to fulfil their duties amid resource shortages and job instability, negatively affecting their mental health.
Many workers at the closed media outlets received no financial compensation when they were made redundant and were subject to arbitrary dismissal. Several confirmed to Index that there are outstanding salaries that remain unpaid.
Journalist Khaled Abdel Rahman, who worked for a respected Syrian media institution, recounted that upon the closure of the institution, he was denied payment exceeding $1600. Abdel Rahman says many of his colleagues share the same plight.
Media activist Anas previously worked for Al-Jisr TV, which broadcast from Turkey for many years. When the channel was closed, the team was informed in advance and compensated for their years of service, but this is a rare occurrence in the Syrian media landscape.
Syrian journalist Rodi Hassou has also seen a noticeable decline in the number and quality of independent media projects and is worried about the loss of these critical voices.
Hassou believes that these media outlets represented fundamental pillars of the Syrian revolution and channels of communication between the international community and Syrians.
“The cessation of funding was not merely a financial loss; it was also a loss of the voices that reflect the realities and analyses of the revolution, serving to document history for future generations,” he says.
The closure of Orient TV and the Kulluna Shuraka website signified the loss of important voices that conveyed the suffering of Syrians. He says, “These outlets witnessed and participated in narrating the story of the Syrian people’s struggle against oppression, courageously covering the events of the revolution from the very beginning. ”
Hassou considers the loss of these outlets as a turning point in the Syrian media landscape, where the voice of the Syrian people has become increasingly faint.
