3 Feb 2014 | China, News and features, Religion and Culture
(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)
During China’s Cultural Revolution the Uyghur linguist Ibrahim Mutte’i, who helped compile a comprehensive multilingual dictionary, was tortured in the pursuit of cultural conformity by having large volumes of his edited dictionary dropped on his head.
Although the Cultural Revolution resonates as an extreme moment in China’s modern history, today the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) continues to develop expansive legal and political frameworks that repress the cultural and religious freedoms of its Uyghur population in Xinjiang province.
China maintains a stifling grip on the largely Muslim minority Uyghurs of Xinjiang. Aspirations for greater autonomy are repressed through ambiguous and far-reaching criminal laws that equate expressions of independence with separatism and terrorism. Severe restrictions in cultural and religious freedoms are part of considered government policy and Uyghurs are practically the only minority group subject to structural executions for religious offences.
Narratives of “terrorism”, external threats and fanatical separatism have been successfully produced and reproduced by the CCP, to confront ethnic problems in Xinjiang and delegitimise criticisms of government policy. The post 9/11 context has enabled the CCP to widen the scope of “terror” offences in its criminal code, where potential crimes include the dissemination of information and public gatherings that “disturb social order”. Rights to free assembly and expression, alongside peaceful protests are prohibited through punitive legal frameworks.
Expansive definitions of terrorism to include any “non-state” action decontextualise violence in Xinjiang as isolated extremism and privilege national security over individual human rights. By externalising ethnic discord, the CCP denies the existence of legitimate dissent and acts with domestic impunity.
The abuse of national security and anti-terror laws to marginalise and censor free speech are emphasised in the recent arrest of prominent Uyghur intellectual Ilham Tohti.
In a statement released by the Bureau of Public Security in Urumqi, capital of Xinjiang, Tohti is charged with promoting “Xinjiang independence”, the spread of separatism and ethnic discord, sending followers overseas to engage in separatist activities and praising individuals involved in “terrorist” attacks. China’s state-owned newspaper, the People’s Daily, commented that “police authorities have uncovered the concrete evidence behind Ilham Tohti’s separatist activities”.
Tohti has not joined calls for an independent East Turkestan but questioned the impact of economic, social and cultural policies in Xinjiang, and advocated for better treatment of Uyghurs. His arrest and official discourses explaining his crimes point to the criminalisation of dissent and a predictable pattern whereby challenges to state power are not tolerated.
Alongside the political and legal frameworks deployed to proscribe freedom of expression, curtailments of religious and cultural self-determination continue unabated. A recent Project Beauty campaign endorsed by the provincial government in Kashgar, ostensibly to promote “beauty” and “modern culture”, registered veiled women and bearded men at checkpoints in attempts to discourage expressions of Islamic and Uyghur identity.
The Uyghur Human Rights Council documents the indiscriminate targeting of religious practice. Outward expressions of faith at state institutions are forbidden, with public signs ostracising Islamic dress through explanations such as “women and girls, open your veils, don’t disturb modern civilised society”. In addition Uyghur language is being systematically eliminated from tertiary institutions, and classes on Uyghur literature, instructed entirely in Chinese, have been subject to inspection by “language police”.
Local religious leaders must complete compulsory political training through the state-run Islamic Association of China, which provides the Islamic clergy with a collection of state-sanctioned sermons and “approved” copies of the Koran. Private religious education is banned and those found to facilitate the independent tuition of Islam or in possession of non-approved literature, are often charged with “illegal” religious activity.
Furthermore, state employees and anyone under the age of 18 cannot enter a mosque. These measures point to a comprehensive draconian system of censorship, with Uyghurs arrested for offences such as “possession of wrong books” and “teaching the Koran”.
A report from Human Rights Watch, citing the official document A Manual for Urumqi Municipality Ethnic Religious Work, provides further evidence of the flagrant denial of civil and political rights. The manual identifies illegal religious activities to include: “inciting the masses to illegally rally and demonstrate”; “distorting history”; going abroad to study religion or engaging in any kind of religious activity that “span[s] different localities”; and carrying out activities “harmful to the good order of society”. These highly ambiguous injunctions restrict not only freedoms of religious belief, but also deny free expression and freedom of movement under virtually any pretext.
The tragic reality of Xinjiang is that a multidimensional system of surveillance, control and religious suppression has exacerbated an ongoing human rights crisis. Although the number of missing Uyghurs is difficult to verify, most estimates point to the arbitrary detention of thousands every year for “illegal” religious activity.
The signs in 2014, of continued violent “separatist” attacks and aggressive state crackdowns, should alarm the international community as controls seem likely to escalate. Beyond the political disenfranchisement, economic exploitation and cultural erosion of Uyghur identity, CCP assimilationist policies ironically serve only to reinforce a sense of alienation and difference.
This article was posted on 3 Feb 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
31 Jan 2014 | Digital Freedom, India, News and features, Politics and Society
(Image: Sergey Nivens/Shutterstock)
In 2009 India announced its grand universal biometric scheme “Aadhaar”. The scheme, managed by the Unique Identification Authority of India (UIDAI), collects the fingerprints, iris scans and facial images of applicants in exchange for a national identification number. First handed out in 2010 the numbers, randomised 12-digit codes, function as “internal passports” which can be used as proof of identity to access state services.
November 2013 marked 500 million enrolments to the scheme, making Aadhaar the largest biometric programme in the world. This year the scheme is set to be linked to major development reforms, and the collection of data, stored in a centrally controlled database, aims to improve transparency, reduce corruption and ensure access to the country’s myriad of welfare benefits.
India’s welfare state is characterised by “leakage”: by corrupt middlemen syphoning off benefits and claimants taking more than their share. The biometric scheme plays an important role in making sure that those who are entitled state aid receive it. But despite this developmental progress India lacks comprehensive protections for biometric data, raising serious concerns about individual privacy.
A report by Oxford Pro Bono Publico, a research centre affiliated to the University of Oxford, found India’s controls over the collection, storage and use of biometric data, compared to other jurisdictions, hugely deficient.
The sheer scale of the project compounds concerns, with UIDAI aiming to enrol every one of India’s 1.2 billion people. The scheme was first introduced as voluntary, but as more and more development schemes are administered through it, welfare recipients seeking state aid have little choice but to hand over their data.
Justice Puttaswamy, a retired High Court judge, has led the charge in challenging the scheme on privacy grounds. As he argued in his petition to the Indian Supreme Court, “there are no safeguards or penalties and no legislative backing for obtaining personal information”. His complaint culminated in a Supreme Court interim order, which insisted that the scheme must remain voluntary and that those entitled to receive welfare should do so regardless of their Aadhaar status.
Attempts to circumvent the Aadhaar programme to deliver benefits, however, have become increasingly difficult. Last year, despite the Supreme Court order, reports emerged from Delhi that food-subsidy ration cards were only being handed out to those with national identification numbers. A recent announcement by the Minister for Food and Civil Supplies, that consumers without Aadhaar cards would continue to receive discounted cooking gas, provoked oil companies and the Union Ministry of Petroleum and Natural Gas to return to the Supreme Court to file an appeal.
Aadhaar was introduced via an executive order, a lack of statutory backing that critics argue makes the scheme unconstitutional. As Shyam Divan, a practising lawyer and petitioner in a case against the UIDAI, explains, there is no legislative oversight of the collection, storage and use of biometric data. Controls on access are similarly scant. There are no provisions that address who can access the data, when and why. At the field level, agents enrolling applicants to the scheme are employed privately and work without government supervision. Once collected, the data passes through private hands before being transferred to the UIDAI’s central repository. Corporations (including the consulting firm Accenture, tech-solutions firm Morpho and American defence contractor L-1 Identity) are involved at every stage of the operation, a sprawling collection and transmission network that campaigners fear maximises the opportunity for abuse.
The case against the scheme on constitutional grounds is equally robust. Every time a person uses their unique Aadhaar number, a real-time confirmation is sent between the access point and central database, a process that activists complain amounts to covert surveillance. Critics argue that this tracking violates the right to privacy enshrined in Article 21 of Indian Constitution. According to campaigners insufficient information on the data-collection process also amounts to a lack of informed consent, a further rights violation.
Through public interest litigation various groups have taken the UIDAI to court over the lack of statutory backing and inadequate data protection, suits that the state has dismissed as “frivolous, misleading and legally incorrect” attempts at derailing a “project that aims to promote inclusion and benefit marginalized sections of society”.
The size and inefficiency of India’s welfare state imposes enormous pressures on officials to improve service delivery. The scheme’s defenders invoke a democratic justification, arguing the government has a responsibility to ensure that welfare spending reaches those that are most in need.
Nandan Nilekani, chairperson of the UIDAI, has admitted that he may not have done enough to persuade people of the benefits of the scheme. But as Justice Puttaswamy insists “the way the government has gone about implementing this project is odd and illegal,” and questions about privacy still loom large.
This article was posted on 31 January 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
21 Jan 2014 | Middle East and North Africa, News and features
A pro-democracy protest in Bahrain, where activists have been jailed for inciting protests through their online activities (Photo: Moh’d Saeed / Demotix)
One hundred and forty characters are all it takes.
Twitter users from Marrakech to Manama know—call for political reforms, joke about a sensitive topic, or expose government abuse and you could end up in jail. Following the overthrow of Muammar Qaddafi and Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, authorities in Libya and Tunisia unblocked hundreds of websites and dismantled the state surveillance apparatus. But overall, internet freedom in the region has only declined in the three years since the Arab Spring as authoritarian leaders continue to crack down on any and all threats to their ever-tenuous legitimacy.
As the online world has become a fundamental part of Arab and Iranian societies, leaders are waking up to the “dangers” of social media and placing new restrictions on what can be read or posted online. This shift has been most marked in Bahrain, one of the most digitally-connected countries in the world. After a grassroots opposition group took to the streets to demand democratic reforms, authorities detained dozens of users for Twitter and Facebook posts deemed sympathetic to the cause. Similarly, several prominent activists were jailed on charges of inciting protests, belonging to a terrorist organization, or plotting to overthrow the government through their online activities.
Conditions in Egypt—where social media played a fundamental role in mobilising protesters and documenting police brutality—continued to decline over the past year. In only the first six months of Mohammad Morsi’s term, more citizens were prosecuted for “insulting the office of the president” than under Hosni Mubarak’s entire 30-year reign. Cases have now been brought against the same bloggers and activists that were instrumental in rallying the masses to protest against Mubarak (and later Morsi) in Tahrir Square, while countless others were tortured by Muslim Brotherhood thugs or state security forces.
Even in the moderate kingdoms of Morocco and Jordan, state officials are looking to extend their existing controls over newspapers and TV channels to the sphere of online media. Ali Anouzla, a website editor in Morocco, faces terrorism charges in the latest attempt by the state to silence him and his popular online newspaper, Lakome. Access to independent journalism is even worse in Jordan, where over 200 news sites have been blocked for failing to obtain a press license. The government instituted burdensome requirements in a bid to deter any views that counter the state-sponsored narrative.
If governments are beginning to pay attention, it is because online tools for social mobilisation and individual expression are having a profound impact. Social media accounts were set up for every candidate in Iran’s 2013 presidential elections, despite the fact that Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube are all blocked within the country. In Saudi Arabia – which now boasts the highest Twitter and YouTube usage per capita of any country in the world – social media has been used to promote campaigns for women’s right to drive, to highlight the mistreatment of migrant workers, and to debate sensitive subjects such as child molestation. Citizen journalism was vital in documenting chemical weapons use in Syria, and a new online platform alerts local residents of incoming scud missiles. Nonetheless, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Syria rank as some of the least free countries in the world in terms of internet freedom according to Freedom House’s Freedom on the Net study.
Remarkably, the country that has made the most positive strides over the past three years, was once among the most repressive online environments in the region – Tunisia. Protest videos from the town of Sidi Bouzid led to an intense crackdown on online dissidents by the Ben Ali regime. Digital activists even enlisted the help of Anonymous, the hacktivist group, to rally international media attention, provide digital security tools, and bring down government websites. Since then, Tunisian authorities have ceased internet censorship, reformed the regulatory environment, and ceded control of the state-owned internet backbone. Tunisia is now the only country in the region to have joined intergovernmental group the Freedom Online Coalition.
So while the snowball effect of social media contributed to the overthrow of several despots, many of the region’s internet users conversely find themselves in more restrictive online environments than in January 2011. Authoritarian governments now know exactly what the face of revolution looks like and, over the past three years, have shown their commitment to counter the internet’s potential to empower citizens and mobilise opposition. Users in liberal democracies may joke about the insignificance of “liking” a post on Facebook or uploading a video to YouTube, but in a region where your social media activity can make you an enemy of the state, 140 characters can lead to serious repercussions.
This article was posted on 21 January 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
2 Jan 2014 | Digital Freedom, Middle East and North Africa, News and features, Tunisia
(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)
Tunisian privacy advocates are concerned about a new cyber crime investigative body: the Technical Telecommunications Agency (better known by its acronyms ATT or A2T).
The agency was created by the Tunisian government under decree 2013-4506 issued on 6 November. It is tasked with “providing technical support to judicial investigations into information and communication crimes” (article 2 of decree ).
As soon as the creation of ATT was made public, netizens expressed their concern of a comeback of the despicable Ammar 404 (nickname attributed to internet censorship and surveillance under the Ben Ali regime). Others described the newly established agency as “Tunisia’s NSA”.
“Fears about a Tunisian NSA are justified”, Douha Ben Youssef an internet freedom activist said.
“The ICT Ministry is justifying the existence of A2T the way Ben Ali justified the need for a control of information flow under the pretext of counterterrorism”, she adds.
Ben Youssef is also concerned about the lack of transparency and civil-society participation in drafting decree 4506.
“There was not a single multi-stakeholder debate about the decree while it was a draft”, she says.
While acknowledging the need to “monitor criminals and terrorists’ activities in this digital age”, Raed Chammem, a member of the Pirate Party shares Ben Youssef’s fears.
“The fact that this agency was dropped as it is with no external supervision, in a country with a history full of abuses in this field, is very suspicious”, Chammem said.
The decree is “too vague. It mentions cyber-crimes without providing a clear definition about the nature of these crimes or specifying them”, he added.
Tunisia does not have laws addressing cybercrime or clearly determining “ICT crimes” mentioned in the decree. This legal void could be problematic considering the country’s vague ICT legislation and repressive laws.
Article 2 of decree 4506 states that ATT is tasked with the “reception and processing of investigation orders… stemming from the judicial authority, in accordance with the legislation in effect”.
Without specifying “the legislation in effect”, users could be investigated and put under surveillance by the ATT under criminal defamation and insult laws.
“Judges do not assess the seriousness of putting certain types of internet content under surveillance”, Moez Chakchouk CEO of the Tunisian Internet Agency (ATI) told Index.
Despite the absence of a legal text requiring the agency to practice surveillance, ATI has been tasked with policing the Internet and assisting the judiciary to investigate cases of cyber crime amidst a legal and and institutional vacuum. Though, the establishment of ATT is set to bring an end to such tasks.
Chakchouk says that many of the surveillance court orders received by ATI after the revolution have nothing to do with cases of counter terrorism or national security but are rather related to defamation.
“A crime in the cyberspace is not defined within the meaning of the Tunisian law. A simple facebook post or a tweet could be considered as a serious crime by these people [judiciary]”, he said.
In 2012, the Ministry of Information and Communications Technology (ICT) consulted ATI about a new surveillance agency. The ATI had suggested the creation of an independent and permanent committee tasked with responding to court requests and made up of judges and civil-society actors, ATI chief declared to Index.
ATI’s suggestions “had been completely ignored”, he said.
Under the current decree, ATT is far from being an independent entity.
The agency’s director-general and department directors are “named by decree on the proposal of the ministry of information and communications technology”, (articles 4 and 12).
While an oversight committee established by the decree “to ensure the proper functioning of the national systems for controlling telecommunications traffic in the framework of the protection of personal data and civil liberties”, is dominated by government representatives appointed from the ministries of ICTs, Human Rights and Transitional Justice, Interior, National Defense, and Justice.
Tunisia’s interim authorities have failed to introduce real reforms in order to cut ties with the surveillance abuses of the past. Before taking the step to establish a surveillance entity the priority should have been repealing the dictatorship era laws and legally consolidating personal data protection.
Last year, the National Authority for the Protection of Personal Data (INPDP), Tunisia’s Data Protection Authority, was working on a draft of amendments to the 2004 privacy law.
The proposed amendments’ aims were to consolidate the authority’s independence from government interference and make state authorities’ collection and processing of personal data without the consent of the authority not possible. But, to this date the amendments have not been voted on at the National Constituent Assembly (NCA).
“The government does not see these amendments as an urgent priority”, Mokhtar Yahyaoui head of INPDP told Index.
“Without reforms, the authority is incapable of conducting its role the way it should”, he added.
This article was posted on 2 Jan 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
