24 Jan 2017 | Albania, Belarus, Europe and Central Asia, Mapping Media Freedom, News, Sweden, Turkey
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]
Each week, Index on Censorship’s Mapping Media Freedom project verifies threats, violations and limitations faced by the media throughout the European Union and neighbouring countries. Here are five recent reports that give us cause for concern.
On 18 January a Turkish court ordered the arrest of three journalists on charges of “membership in an armed terror group,” T24 reported.
These journalists include Ömer Çelik, former news editor of DİHA daily; Tunca Öğreten, former editor of Diken news portal, and BirGün daily staff member Mahir Kanaat.
They were detained on 25 December 2016 with three others; Derya Okatan, managing editor for the ETHA news agency; DİHA reporter Metin Yoksu, and Yolculuk newspaper managing editor Eray Saygın.
After 24 days, the court ruled to release Yoksu, Sargın and Okatan on probation terms. Under the order they are barred from international travel and will have to regularly check in with their local police station.
Pre-trial custody can last up to 30 days under Turkey’s emergency rule, which was implemented on 20 July 2015 following a coup attempt.
On 25 December 2016, pro-government Sabah daily announced that the journalists would be detained in connection to email correspondence of Berat Albayrak, Turkey’s energy minister and the son-in-law of the country’s President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan that were leaked to the media.
The arrests bring the number of journalists in Turkish prisons to 151.
The Gothenburg offices of Swedish public service TV and radio, SVT, were evacuated on Tuesday 10 January after a suspicious package containing white powder and written threats was sent to staff member Janne Josefsson, the broadcaster reported.
SVT reported that “the letter was opened and the contents spread on a coffee machine and stairs”.
SVT Chief Executive Hannah Stjärne commented on the incident: “This threat has disabled a socially important journalistic operation for several hours and is a blow to the open society which we must protect.”
Police have begun an investigation into the source of the threat. The powder was later found to be harmless.
Russian-Israeli blogger Aleksandr Lapshin was detained in Minsk on 15 January 2016, shortly after entering Belarus, Euroradio.fm reported. The detention was requested by Azerbaijan, which is seeking to have the blogger extradited.
Lapshin lives in Moscow and is wanted in Azerbaijan for visiting the disputed region of Nagorno-Karabakh and for criticising Azerbaijani policies on his blog.
A representative for Belarus’s Prosecutor General said it was studying Azerbaijan’s extradition request.
The Committee to Protect Journalists has called on Belorussian authorities to release the blogger without condition and allow him to return home.
Two media directors, Armand Shullaku and Alfred Lela, lost their jobs on 12 January after owners changed the “editorial orientation” of their outlets in favour of the government, ZeriaMerikas.es reported.
Shkullaku, who was the director of the news channel ABC News in Tirana, said his employment contract was not renewed for January 2017 and that he believed that the owner of the TV station changed its editorial line so that it now supports the government. “The owner told me that in his opinion, the channel needed a new managerial and editorial approach,” he said.
Lela, former director of the newspaper Mapo, said that the owner of the outlet had also declared his support for Prime Minister Edi Rama and that his contract, which ended on 31 December, was not renewed for that reason. “I was offered a new contract on condition I respected the new editorial affiliation and I refused,” he told Voice of America Albanian language service.
Lulzim Basha, the leader of the opposition Democratic Party, wrote on his Facebook page that the dismissal of these two journalists means businesses and media have joined the government against the people.
On 12 January an Istanbul Prosecutor asked for a nine-year sentence in the case of prominent journalist Hasan Cemal, reported Hurriyet Daily News.
Cemal is being charged for “making the propaganda of terrorist organisations” and “praising crime and criminals”.
On 1 September, 2016 Cemal was part of a group of nine editors who took part in the Editor For The Day campaign launched in support of the closed pro-Kurdish daily Özgür Gündemy, Bianet reported.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]
Click on the bubbles to view reports or double-click to zoom in on specific regions. The full site can be accessed at https://mappingmediafreedom.org/
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1485247537834-0f5818db-acf6-3″ taxonomies=”6564″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
9 Jan 2017 | Europe and Central Asia, Mapping Media Freedom, News, Portugal
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
Although not exposed to the perils that press freedom encounters in places such as Turkey or Hungary, experts in Portugal tell Mapping Media Freedom that journalists in the country live under a “subliminal” type of pressure that can lead to the deterioration of their work and their fundamental rights as media workers.
Most of this pressure, they say, is caused by low wages and endemic job insecurity.
“I can’t say that there’s a threat to freedom of the press such as the interference of political authorities or in the sense that a certain information is silenced, the risk of an attack like that happening is small,” says Carla Baptista, a professor at the communication sciences department of FCSH-UNL. “But there are factors that weaken journalism and journalists and which undermine their capacity to resist if and when those attacks strike.”
According to a study conducted between 2007 and 2014 by Observatório da Comunicação, more than 1,200 journalists — about 20% of the total of media workers — have either lost or left their jobs. This tendency has only but grown ever since, with layoffs taking place in newspapers such as Diário Económico (which later shutdown its paper and online edition at different stages in the early in 2016), Diário de Notícias, i, and Sol. Besides, all in 2016, newspapers Público and Expresso, and magazines Visão and Sábado, put forth voluntary redundancy programmes for journalists and other professionals.
In another study by João Miranda, a journalism researcher at Universidade de Coimbra, that was answered by 806 journalists, 56.3% earned less than €1,000 per month and 14.8% declared they were paid below minimum wage (€505) or nothing at all.
“The fact that so many journalists have no job security affects the way they regard their own activity. In some ways, this restricts the conditions under which freedom of the press exists in Portugal,” João Miranda tells Index.
Sofia Branco, president of the Portuguese Union of Journalists and a journalist at Lusa news agency, seconds his words. “This is not an average job, it has very concrete responsibilities. It’s hard to demand independence and autonomy from a journalist when he or she is working under such circumstances,” she adds.
Is pressure under-perceived?
In Miranda’s research, a total of 23.8% journalists said they felt pressured by their outlet’s board of directors and 26.2% said they felt the same coming from their editorial superiors. However, when asked whether this pressure was exerted with a commercial motivation or rather for political gain of third agents, Miranda recognised that his data “doesn’t go deep enough to assess that.”
“To be honest I think those numbers are too low”, Branco said of the approximately one quarter of journalists who complained of being pressured. “A lot of people are under pressure but don’t realise it. It’s a matter of perception. The pressure does exist and is there constantly, even it most of the times it’s just at a subliminal level.”
Although sensible to the challenges most Portuguese journalists deal with in their daily lives, Carla Baptista argues that “journalists also have to take responsibility”.
For this Lisbon-based researcher, the Portuguese media have failed to investigate the country’s authorities, to set the agenda, and also to serve their audience. “There are asymmetries in the way our society is reflected in the media. They are distanced from the problems of those who they should be talking to: young people, women, families, voters,” Baptista said.
In her view, the average Portuguese journalist looks as though he or she is “a factory worker in the assembly line who is feeding a stream of ready made news like the 19th century coalman would feed an industrial oven.”
First journalists’ congress in 19 years to be held in January
It is to look inside all of the above mentioned problems and to seek their solutions that the Portuguese Union of Journalists, alongside two other non-union journalistic associations, will hold the 4th Conference of Journalists from January 12th to the 15th — a much anticipated event since it last took place, in 1998. Its first edition dates back to 1982 and the second happened in 1986. In this year’s edition, a total of seven panels will discuss topics like the ethics of journalism, the working conditions of media professionals and the economical viability of the news media.
“The fact that the last time we all sat down to discuss our work as 19 years ago is unbelievable,” Branco points out. “This time, we can’t close the doors without having reached conclusions both to ourselves, to the the institutions we work for and to the government, too.”
Baptista feels less optimistic. “My fear is that this conference will reflect the anemia of most Portuguese journalists,” she says. “I think 2017 will be a very bad year for journalism in Portugal.”
Click on the bubbles to view reports or double-click to zoom in on specific regions. The full site can be accessed at https://mappingmediafreedom.org/
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1483954255579-f41de8e9-b0bd-8″ taxonomies=”7679″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
16 Dec 2016 | Magazine, Volume 45.04 Winter 2016
[vc_row full_width=”stretch_row” full_height=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1481647350516{background-image: url(https://www.indexoncensorship.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/magazine-cover-subhead.jpg?id=82616) !important;background-position: center !important;background-repeat: no-repeat !important;background-size: contain !important;}”][vc_column][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Governments that introduce bans on clothing and other forms of expression are sending a signal about their own lack of confidence” google_fonts=”font_family:Libre%20Baskerville%3Aregular%2Citalic%2C700|font_style:400%20italic%3A400%3Aitalic”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
IF YOU HAVE to introduce laws telling your citizens that they are banned from wearing purple, sporting red velvet, or showing their knees, then, frankly, you are in trouble.
But again and again, when times get tough or leaders think they should be, governments tell their people what to wear, or more often, what not to wear.
“Dare to wear this,” they say, “and we will be down on you like a ton of bricks.” Why any government thinks this is going to improve their power, the economy or put their country on a better footing is a mystery. History suggests you never strike up a more profitable relationship with your people by removing the freedom to wear specific types of clothing or, conversely, telling everyone that they have to wear the same thing. We are either consumed by rebellion, or by dullness.
The Romans tried it with purple (only allowed for the emperor and his special friends). The Puritans tried it with gold and silver (just for the magistrates and a few highfaluting types). Right now the governments of Saudi Arabia and Iran ban women from wearing anything but head-to-toe cover-ups along with a range of other limitations. In one frightening case in the past month there were calls via social media for a woman in Saudi Arabia to be killed because she went out shopping “uncovered” without a hijab or abaya. One tweet read: “Kill her and throw her corpse to the dogs.”
Banning any type of freedom of expression, often including free speech, or freedom of assembly, usually happens in times of national angst, economic downturn or crisis, when governments are not acting either in the interest of their people, or the national good. These are not healthy, confident nations, but nations that fear allowing their people to speak, act and think. And that fear can express itself in mandating or restricting types of expression. Generally, as with other restrictions on freedom found in the US First Amendment, enforcing such bans doesn’t sweep in a period of prosperity for countries that impose them.
At different points in world history governments have forced a small group of people to wear particular things, or tried to wipe out styles of clothing they did not approve of. In medieval Europe, for instance, non-Christians were, at certain periods, forced to wear badges such as stars or crescents as were Christians who refused to conform to a state religion, such as the Cathars. Forcing a particular badge or clothing to be worn sends a signal of exclusion. Those authorities are, by implication, saying to the majority that there is a difference in the status of the minority, and in doing so opening them up either to attack, or at least suspicion. Not much has changed between then and now. Historically groups that have been forced to wear some kind of badge or special outfit have then found themselves ostracised or physically attacked. The most obvious modern example is Jews being forced to wear yellow stars in Nazi Germany, but this is not the only time minorities have been legally forced to stand out from the crowd. In 2001 the Taliban ruled that Afghan Hindus had to wear a public label to signify they were non-Muslims. The intent of such actions are clear: to create tension.
The other side of this clothing coin is when clans, tribes or groups who choose to dress differently from the mainstream, for historical religious reasons, or even just because they follow a particular musical style, are persecuted because of that visual difference, because of what it stands for, or because they are seen as rebelling against authority. In some cases strict laws have been put in place to try and force change, in other cases certain people decide to take action. In 1746, for instance, the British government banned kilts and tartans (except for the military) under the Dress Act, a reaction said to be motivated by support for rebellions to return Catholic (Stuart) monarchs to the British throne. Those who ignored the order faced six months in prison for the first instance, and seven years deportation for the second. Those who wear distinctive, and traditional clothing, out of choice can face other disadvantages. For years, the Oromo people in Ethiopia, who wear distinctive clothing, have long faced discrimination, but in 2016 dozens of Oromo people were killed at a religious festival, after police fired bullets into the crowd. And in her article Eliza Vitri Handayani reports on how the punk movement in Indonesia has attracted animosity and in one case, Indonesian police seized 64 punks, shaved their heads and forced them to bathe in a river to “purify themselves”. Recently the Demak branch of Nadhlatul Ulama, Indonesia’s largest Islamic organisation, has banned reggae and punk concerts because they make young people “dress weird”.
Another cover for restrictions or bans stems from religions. As soon as the word “modesty” is bandied around as a reason for somebody to be prohibited from wearing something then you know you have to worry. Strangely, it is never the person who proclaims that there needs to be a bit more modesty who needs to change their ways. Of course not. It is other people who need to get a lot more modest. The inclusion of modesty standards tends to be used to get women to cover up more than they have done.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/4″][vc_icon icon_fontawesome=”fa fa-quote-left” color=”custom” align=”right” custom_color=”#dd3333″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”3/4″][vc_custom_heading text=”When freedom of expression is quashed, it usually finds a way of squeezing out just to show that the spirit is not vanquished” google_fonts=”font_family:Libre%20Baskerville%3Aregular%2Citalic%2C700|font_style:400%20italic%3A400%3Aitalic”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
Then you get officious types who decide that they have the measure of morality, and start hitting women wearing short skirts (as is happening right now in South Africa and Uganda). For some Ugandan women it feels like a return to the 1970s under dictator Idi Amin “morality” laws.
Trans people can find themselves confronting laws, sometimes centuries old, that lay out what people shouldn’t be allowed to wear. In Guyana a case continues to edge through the court of appeal this year, it argues that a cross-dressing law from 1893 allows the police to arrest or harass trans people. A new collection, the Museum of Transology, which opens in London in January, uses a crowdsourced collection of objects and clothing to chart modern trans life and its conflicts with the mainstream, from a first bra to binders.
When freedom of expression is quashed, it usually finds a way of squeezing out just to show that the spirit is not vanquished. So during the tartan ban in the 18th century, there are tales of highlanders hiding a piece of tartan under other clothes to have it blessed at a Sunday service. And certainly tartan and plaids are plentiful in Scotland today. In the 1930s and 40s when British women and girls were not “expected” to wear trousers or shorts, some bright spark designed a split skirt that could be worn for playing sport. It looked like a short dress (therefore conforming to the accepted code), but they were split like shorts allowing girls to run around with some freedom.
While in Iran, where rules about “modest” dress are enforced viciously with beatings, sales of glitzy high heels go through the roof. No one can stop those women showing the world their personal style in any way they can. Iranian model and designer Tala Raassi, who grew up in Iran, has written about how vital those signs of style are to Iranian women. In a recent article, commenting on the recent burkini ban in France, Raassi wrote of her disappointment that a democratic country would force an individual to put on or take of a piece of clothing. She added: “Freedom is not about the amount of clothing you put on or take off, but about having the choice to do so.”
And that freedom is the clearest sign of a healthy country. We must support the freedom for individuals to make choices, even if we do not agree with them personally. The freedom to be different, if one chooses to be, must not be punished by some kind of lower status or ostracism. National leaders have to learn that taking away freedom of expression from their people is a sign of their failure. Countries with the most freedom are the ones that will historically be seen as the most successful politically, economically and culturally.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
Rachael Jolley is the editor of Index on Censorship magazine. She recently won the editor of the year (special interest) at British Society of Magazine Editors’ 2016 awards
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”From the Archives”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”86201″ img_size=”213×289″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/0306422016643039″][vc_custom_heading text=”T-shirted turmoil” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1177%2F0306422016643039|||”][vc_column_text]April 2016
Vicky Baker looks at why slogan shirts are more than a fashion statement and sometimes provoke fear within great state machines.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”89180″ img_size=”213×289″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03064220600624127″][vc_custom_heading text=”Miniskirts” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1080%2F03064220600624127|||”][vc_column_text]February 2006
Salil Tripathi believes the press should not pick and choose what to publish based on who will get offended. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”90622″ img_size=”213×289″ alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03064228908536934″][vc_custom_heading text=”List to the right ” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:http%3A%2F%2Fjournals.sagepub.com%2Fdoi%2Fpdf%2F10.1080%2F03064228908536934|||”][vc_column_text]July 2001
UK’s Terrorism Act 2000 is further evidence of the government’s indifference to fundamental freedoms – clothing included.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_separator][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_custom_heading text=”Fashion Rules” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Fwww.indexoncensorship.org%2F2016%2F12%2Ffashion-rules%2F|||”][vc_column_text]The winter 2016 issue of Index on Censorship magazine looks at fashion and how people both express freedom through what they wear.
In the issue: interviews with Lily Cole, Paulo Scott and Daphne Selfe, articles by novelists Linda Grant and Maggie Alderson plus Eliza Vitri Handayani on why punks are persecuted in Indonesia.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”82377″ img_size=”medium” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”https://www.indexoncensorship.org/2016/12/fashion-rules/”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_custom_heading text=”Subscribe” font_container=”tag:p|font_size:24|text_align:left” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Fwww.indexoncensorship.org%2Fsubscribe%2F|||”][vc_column_text]In print, online. In your mailbox, on your iPad.
Subscription options from £18 or just £1.49 in the App Store for a digital issue.
Every subscriber helps support Index on Censorship’s projects around the world.
SUBSCRIBE NOW[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
2 Dec 2016 | News, Turkey, Turkey Uncensored
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
Turkey Uncensored is an Index on Censorship project to publish a series of articles from censored Turkish writers, artists and translators.
[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]More than anything else, it’s the central question that takes a grip on you: “Will I ever be able to see Turkey, my homeland, again?”
This was the feeling that caught me as I crossed the 15 July Martyrs Bridge over the Bosphorus just days after the failed coup attempt.
Before the failed coup it was known as the First Bridge. During the coup it was one of the centers of bloody scenes that marked the beginning of nationwide chaos and trauma that is still unfolding.
I knew I, just as my nation, was heading towards the unknown. At the time, the only thing that mattered was freedom – perhaps the most precious element in any journalist’s existence.
I knew, even as the tragedy for Turkey played out on the streets, that no matter the outcome, among the first victims would be our freedom, which had been fragile for years. Before the coup, we had been forced to deal with the monster of intolerance deeply embedded in the upper echelons of the state. The fierce power struggle had snowballed into a putsch.
As I watched the sun rise on 16 July, I knew without a doubt that the Turkey’s weary journalists — including me — would be rounded up sooner or later.
Freedom mattered. Freedom to be. Freedom to do. My most vivid thought, crossing the bridge, was to move to a free domain, to be able to do what I should: to observe, to listen and to write Turkey’s interesting and baffling story.
But when you must leave, crossing into exile means something much different than a sigh of relief. You leave parts of yourself behind and you know that they will haunt you. Exile, voluntary or not, means a total reset on your existence. It is a journey laced with second thoughts and unforeseen consequences. You will questioned and criticised by some and admired by others for your adventurous nature.
But once in exile, you are very much on your own. Your routines ruined, and your plans abandoned or in need of modification. It’s like entering a darkened room that you must map by touch.
I felt, still, lucky.
Once across the border, all I felt initially was a sense of numbness. It was strangely calming because I had already made this journey out of Turkey into exile.
Decades ago, as a student repulsed by political violence and state brutality, I had to leave Turkey for Scandinavia. I had a memory, a developed sense of intuition: I knew what the stakes were. When you proceed to safety, you rely on your good friends, forget dwelling so much on tomorrow or the day after, and find a place to settle. Whenever in doubt, remember to be thankful that you are free. It’s calmness that matters.
Then you do two things: recalculate your sources for survival and try to do your best to save those that you left behind who are in danger. As I settled somewhere in Europe, I had already absorbed the notion that I would be living on the minimum.
I sensed that good colleagues would not leave Turkey’s exiled journalists out in the cold. Most of them loved Turkey and its people; found its story fascinating, and admired our resilience in the face of repeated waves of oppression. In many cases recently, I was proven right. Those of us in exile, I believe, do not feel abandoned.
Exile means living in solidarity. I persuaded two colleagues to get out before they too were served with invitations to discuss their involvement in the “media leg of a terrorist organisation”. A third changed their mind and luckily still stands free. I worked on the cases of journalists who are stuck or on the run, connecting them with others who can provide legal or financial help. It’s an ongoing process, just as the era of emergency rule continues.
Exile means living with the uncertainty of time. It eats at you. It is an indefinite sentence filled with questions: When will things return to a semblance of normality? Will I ever be able to return? What if I end up like an Iranian intellectual, who have never been able to go home? What if I will have to abandon journalism, cease my sharing of the truth and be forced to do something else?
My gut tells me that this time Turkey’s turmoil may turn out to be long-lasting and leave a more harmful imprint on the nation’s soul. We are in the midst of an open-ended story, mapping the contours by touch with very few clues about the finale.
Exile means spending your days in a fog.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Yavuz Baydar is the co-founder of Platform for Independent Journalism (P24), an initiative to support and promote editorial independence in the Turkish press. He is a veteran Turkish columnist and blogger and was awarded the Special Award of the European Press Prize in 2014.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Turkey Uncensored” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”4″ element_width=”6″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1485774765528-af1463e8-b299-7″ taxonomies=”8607″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
