There has been a hell of a lot written in the past week or so since the New Statesman published feminist writer Suzanne Moore’s article Seeing red: the power of female anger, and I really do not want to go over the details again. There’s more to be written on transgender issues by people with far better knowledge than I. Suffice to say, people got angry over a phrase in Moore’s piece, she was rather forcefully criticised, responded in kind, and gave up her Twitter account as the weight of group anger became too much. Then Julie Burchill further fanned the flames with a massively controversial article in the Observer.
What I want to briefly focus on here is the frankly disastrous response to the furore over Julie Burchill’s Observer article by International Development minister Lynne Featherstone. Weighing in to the twitter discussion on Sunday evening, Featherstone tweeted that Burchill should be sacked by the Observer, and subsequently implied agreement with another tweet suggesting that Observer editor John Mulholland should also be sacked.
Let’s leave aside for a moment the fact that Julie Burchill is not actually on staff at the Observer, and can’t be sacked, and examine just what’s happened here: a government minister in a modern democratic state has demanded that a journalist be punished for writing a contentious article. And then nodded along with the notion that a national newspaper editor be sacked for publishing a contentious article. An article that has not, as yet, been deemed illegal, or even in breach of the Press Complaints Commission code.
Featherstone has made a mockery of Britain and the EU’s declared commitment to promote free speech. Cast your mind back to the 2011 riots, when it was suggested that social networks be shut down to prevent people co-ordinating movements. The state media of regimes such as Iran and China gleefully reported this suggestion, using it both to mock the UK’s hypocrisy and to justify the censorship of their own people.
Now imagine the next time a newspaper such as China’s Southern Weekly steps out of line, and a senior Communist Party member calls for the head of a reporter or editor. Should a Foreign Office official even attempt to condemn such censorship, be in no doubt that the authorities in China will point to Featherstone’s intemperate tweet and say the UK is in no position to lecture.
There’s the international aspect. Now look at the domestic. Independent editor Chris Blackhurst has said he fears that politicians will use post-Leveson statute to “wreak their revenge” on the press. Speaking on Sky News, Blackhurst commented:
“Once a draft Bill goes into the Commons and the Lords and once they get their teeth into it they can add all sorts of amendments.
“That’s where the revenge will happen. That’s one reason why some of us are very keen that there should not be statute.
“It’s not just expenses, let’s not forget there are a lot of MPs, all sorts of shenanigans down the years, many of which we all know about and have been highlighted, and they can’t wait. They are sort of ‘bring it on’.”
Pro-statute campaigners such as Hugh Grant tell us that we should not be alarmed by the prospect of a new press law. But when, even before such a law is debated, a government minister thinks it’s OK to interfere with the press in this manner, why should we trust politicians with free speech?
The film of Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children is set to be released on 1 February. If the team behind the movie adaptation is at all nervous about screening the film they have good reason. Rushdie, who wrote the screenplay, and has been the literary face for freedom of expression for years, has a tumultuous history of censorship with India.
The Booker prize-winning book is about two children, born at the stroke of midnight as India gained its independence. Their lives become intertwined with the life of this new country.
One of the figures in the book, The Widow, was based on former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. In the book, the character, through genocide and several wars, helps destroy Midnight’s Children. Gandhi had imposed a widely-criticised State of Emergency in India.
In an interesting turn of events, Gandhi threatened Rushdie libel over a single line. That line suggested that Gandhi’s son Sanjay had accused his mother of bringing about his father’s heart attack through neglect. Rushdie settled out of court, and the single line was removed from the book.
The movie adaptation of Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children
The real controversy that followed, the one that changed Rushdie’s life completely, came after the 1988 release of his book The Satanic Verses. While the Iranian supreme leader Ayatollah Khomeini had issued a fatwa against Rushdie and called for his execution (citing the book as blasphemous), the author saw many countries, including India, indulge in their own brand of censorship.
As has been revealed in Rushdie’s memoir Joseph Anton, the author felt the Indian government banned his book without much scrutiny. The Finance Ministry banned the book under section 11 of the Customs Act, and in that order stated that this ban did not detract from the literary and artistic merit of his work. Rushdie, appalled at the logic penned a letter to the then prime minister of India, Rajiv Gandhi, stating:
Apparently, my book is not deemed blasphemous or objectionable in itself, but is being proscribed for, so to speak, its own good… From where I sit, Mr Gandhi, it looks very much as if your government has become unable or unwilling to resist pressure from more or less any extremist religious grouping; that, in short, it’s the fundamentalists who now control the political agenda.
Rushdie was right, of course. Years later, in 2007, he attended the first Jaipur Literary Festival in India unnoticed. Without any security or fuss, he arrived unannounced, mingling with the crowd. Things had changed dramatically by 2012, when Rushdie’s arrival to the now must-attend literary festival was much publicised, and predictably attracted controversy.
Maulana Abul Qasim Nomani, vice-chancellor at India’s Muslim Deoband School, called for the government to cancel Rusdie’s visa for the event as he had annoyed the religious sentiments of Muslims in the past. (Incidentally, Rushdie does not need a visa to enter India as he holds a PIO — “Person of Indian Origin” — card.)
The controversy escalated quickly, with the organisers first attempting to link Rushdie via video instead of having him physically present, but then cancelling the arrangement when the Festival came under graver physical threat. It was a sad day for freedom of expression in India, especially considering the fact that many, including Rushdie felt these moves were politically motivated because of upcoming elections in Uttar Pradesh, where the Muslim vote is very important. The government vehemently denied these claims.
Liberals in India were shocked at the illiberal values that the modern India state espoused, feigning to not be able to protect a writer and a festival against the threats of protestors. Shoma Chaudhary of Tehelka wrote:
The trouble is nobody any longer knows what Rushdie was doing inThe Satanic Verses: neither those who are offended by him, nor those who defend him. Almost no one, including this writer, was given a chance to read the book.
Later in the year, initial press reports around Midnight’s Children revealed that the film could not find a distributorin India. The production team thought it might be a case of self-censorship as the film featured a controversial portrayal of Indira Gandhi. However, PVR Pictures, a major distributor in India, has plans to release the film in the country in February 2013.
31 years after the Midnight’s Children hit the stands, and the same year as he was bullied into cancelling a visit to a literary festival, it seems Salman Rushdie will yet again challenge Indian society. It remains to be seen if he will, yet again, become a pawn in the internal politics of the country.
Music has always been a medium to stir up controversy — from glass harmonicas being banned briefly in the 18th century for driving people mad, to the censoring of Elvis Presley’s wiggling hips on the US-based Ed Sullivan show in 1957. Censorship in the music industry is no relic of the past. Only this month, Egyptian authorities announced a bar on “romantic music”. Here are our favourite modern examples of banned music:
Taming the rave
Authorities in England and Wales attempted to curb the fun in 1994, introducing the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act. This defined raves as “illegal gatherings,” putting a stop to any electronic music one might to listen to at an outdoor party. The Act defines banned music as including “sounds wholly or predominantly characterised by the emission of a succession of repetitive beats.” 18 years after the act was introduced, the parties still appear in their masses — as do the police. Here’s Norfolk Police bashing away at some rave equipment following an order for destruction by request of the court:
Sensuality censored
In a bid to halt “vulgarity and bad taste”, music lovers in Cuba were hit with a tough sanction in December: a complete ban of the sexually-charged reggaeton music in the media. Other music genres with aggressive or sexually explicit lyrics will also be curbed, preventing the songs from being played on television or radio. Under legislation passed under President Raul Castro, music can be enjoyed privately, but will also be banned in public spaces — anyone discovered to be breaking the law could be subject to severe fines and suspensions. According to Cuban Music Institute boss Orlando Vistel Columbié, the music genre violates the “inherent sensuality” of Cuban women. One of the most well-known reggaeton artists is the Puerto Rican born artist Daddy Yankee. Here’s his 2004 hit, Gasolina, which probably wasn’t an anthem for rising petrol prices:
Singing a song of silence
On 23 October 2012, Islamist militants took control of a country steeped in musical history, imposing a total ban of all genres of music in northern Mali. The rebel group jammed radio airwaves and confiscated mobile phones, replacing ringtones with verses from the Quran. Three Islamist groups linked to al-Qaeda have taken control of the northern Malian cities of Timbuktu, Kidal and Gao, banning everything they deemed to breach the religious law of Islam, Sharia. Dozens of musicians have fled the area, and many have been threatened with violence should they practice music again. Mali is famed for its rich cultural heritage and many residing there consider music akin to material wealth. Musician Khaira Arby has fled south since the crisis. Here she is with her band Sourgou:
Careless whispers from Iranian government
Iran had a pop at western music in 2005, decreeing it illegal, along with other “offensive” music. The Supreme Cultural Revolutionary Council banned the music from state-run radio and TV broadcasts. The sounds of Eric Clapton, The Eagles and George Michael were often used as television background music until the ban was imposed. President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad left no 80s hallmark unscathed — banning western haircuts like the mullet two years later. George Michael’s 1984 single, Careless Whisper, breaks Iranian law with both music and hairstyles:
Romancing the state
On 13 December, Egyptian authorities banned the broadcast of “romantic” music, insisting that only songs enamoured with the state would be permitted for playing on TV stations. Only nationalistic numbers can now be played on the 23 state-owned channels, and songs mocking public figures will be banned to adhere to the “sensitivity” of the political situation in Egypt. President Mohammed Morsi fervently denied that a decree granting him sweeping powers was permanent recently. Complaints have begun to surface surrounding the musical censorship, with some speculating that it was a move to mask the development of the decree. Egyptian megastar Amr Diab’s most well-known hit, Habibi Ya Nour Al Ain (Darling, You Are The Light of My Eyes), is just one of the many tunes that won’t be heard on the country’s airwaves:
Between February 2011 and June 2012, I attended nine surveillance technology trade shows around the world. At these events, vendors, developers and government agencies meet, mingle and do business. They’re usually held at anonymous corporate hotels and are strictly invite-only. Yet the atmosphere is usually one of pervasive paranoia and attendees often conceal their real names and governmental affiliations. The sales representatives, by contrast, can be extremely frank, particularly when discussing the ethical implications of their trade. During one presentation, delegates from a password forensics company projected an image of a metal interrogation chair draped with chains and joked that their equipment could be used in conjunction with ‘other methods’. Another vendor told me that he was sure his company could come to ‘some arrangement’ with a (hypothetical) North Korean customer. Fat profit margins are top of the agenda; ethics and social responsibility rarely even come into it.
Twenty years ago, the value of the global surveillance industry was negligible – today it is estimated to be worth around $3bn. The fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 left hundreds of Stasi officers out of a job and the rash of new surveillance companies that sprang up in the early 1990s in Germany suggests that many found lucrative new employment in the private sector. Privacy International published a report in 1995, highlighting this increased flow of surveillance tools from developed countries like the UK, the US, Germany and Israel to repressive regimes in Africa and South Asia, where they were then used as instruments of political control and internal repression. But not a single Western government has felt it necessary to impose export controls on surveillance technologies, and so this unethical trade has therefore continued unimpeded.
After 9/11, governments around the world ramped up their surveillance operations and private companies competed to develop and supply cheaper and more invasive tools. The business of surveillance was no longer the preserve of large military and arms manufacturers like BAE Systems; small technology enterprises and larger Silicon Valley companies quickly flooded the market. Privacy International’s recent research has identified around 250 vendors of surveillance technology based in 33 countries around the world and there are probably dozens more that have managed to remain under the radar. Unfortunately, these new actors seem to conduct themselves with even less integrity than their predecessors – exports to Africa and the Middle East are significant and companies now offer bespoke solutions and training to their clients.
One would think this would make it difficult to plead ignorance when companies get caught doing business with dictatorships and repressive regimes. Yet this is still the most common defence: companies claim that they had no knowledge of the uses to which their products were being put.
They deny complicity in resulting human rights abuses – censorship, torture, extrajudicial detention and executions – because they say that technology is neutral, that it’s not their responsibility to vet their clients, that they can’t control how equipment is used once sold. Let us be clear: in the majority of situations, this is simply not the case. These companies are not staffed by idealistic young software developers creating socially useful tools that their wicked clients are then misusing and perverting. In fact, most of the time they are working with their customers on a close and long-term basis, carefully tailoring surveillance systems to specific needs.
Milan-based Area SpA last year furnished Privacy International with a disturbing example of just how committed to customer service these companies can be. While President Bashar al Assad’s forces were engaged in brutal attempts to crush dissent in Syria, killing and injuring hundreds of unarmed protesters, Area secretly installed a nationwide mass surveillance system. Dozens of the company’s Italian employees were flown out to Syria to install hardware and software that would allow Syrian security agents to follow targets on flat-screen workstations displaying communications and web use in near-real time, alongside graphics that mapped citizens’ networks of electronic contacts. The €13m (US$16.7m) contract also specified that Area employees would supply training to Syrian security agents, teaching them how to monitor vast swathes of the population. Fortunately, after a Bloomberg report exposed the project and protesters gathered outside Area’s offices, the company quietly pulled the plug on the project.
The effect of a surveillance system of this sophistication and magnitude on political dissent, public debate, the rule of law – in fact, on all of the processes fundamental to participatory democracy – is devastating. When people see their friends and colleagues arrested and tortured because of a text message, a Facebook chat or a phone call, they think twice about complaining about government abuses. They may cut off all phone and email contact with those people, afraid that just being part of the wrong networks will bring the secret police to their own doors in the middle of the night. Arranging face-to-face meetings becomes practically difficult, and even speaking in person isn’t secure – governments can target individual mobile phones with malware that allows them to remotely control the device’s microphone and camera and thereby see and hear everything happening around it.
Organising political demonstrations is equally challenging. Blogs containing anti-government sentiments are identified and blocked almost as quickly as they can be written, preventing citizens from expressing their dissatisfactions to a wider audience. Surveillance technology is therefore one of the most powerful weapons in the dictator’s arsenal; it destroys political opposition and subdues populations far more effectively than guns or grenades.
Privacy International doesn’t think it’s right that companies based in Europe and the United States – where governments publicly condemn the kind of human rights abuses described above – should make vast sums of money by facilitating these same abuses. We also believe that this notoriously murky and elusive industry needs to be much more transparent about which products are being sold to which regimes, particularly in Africa and the Middle East. We embarked on the Surveillance Industry Index – a publicly-accessible online catalogue of surveillance companies, products and marketing materials – because we felt that putting the hard facts in the public domain would hopefully stop companies obfuscating their involvement with repressive governments and make them more accountable. We also hoped that it would add to the evidence base for proper export licensing systems in Europe and the US. In particular, the excerpts from the marketing material we’ve presented provide direct insight into the ethical vacuum at the heart of the industry and demonstrate the terrifying scope and power of some of the technologies that are now readily available.
For example, UK-headquartered Gamma Group describes one of their products as permitting ‘black hat hacking [illegal and malicious] tactics to enable intelligence services to gather information from target systems that would be otherwise extremely difficult to obtain legally’. South African VASTech sells a mass surveillance product that can intercept ‘more than 100,000 simultaneous voice channels, allowing it to capture up to one billion intercepts per day and storing in excess of 5,000 Terabytes of information’. Madrid-based Agnitio is even more explicit, stating that their product is ‘designed for mass voice interception and voice mining’. Mass surveillance has been ruled illegal in most democratic countries as, by its very nature, it can never be considered a proportionate or necessary tactic.
Over the past few years, Gamma International’s FinFisher suite, a range of spyware that covertly takes remote control of a computer or mobile device, copying files, intercepting Skype calls and logging every keystroke, has appeared all over the world. Recent reports by computer security company Rapid7 have placed FinFisher command and control servers in Australia, the Czech Republic, Dubai, Ethiopia, Estonia, Indonesia, Latvia, Mongolia, Qatar and the US. A separate investigation in August by CitizenLab, an interdisciplinary project based at the Munk Centre for International Studies at the University of Toronto, identified potential FinFisher command and control servers in Bahrain, Brunei, the Czech Republic, Ethiopia, Indonesia, Mongolia, Singapore, the Netherlands, Turkmenistan and the United Arab Emirates.
Gamma International’s Managing Director, Martin J Muench, has refuted this research – the latest in a long line of denials and excuses from the company. In April 2011, the Guardian reported that two Egyptian human rights activists had found a proposal from Gamma to supply President Mubarak’s regime with FinFisher products inside the ransacked headquarters of the State Security Investigations service. The company said the offer was for a free trial version and that ‘Gamma International UK Limited has not supplied any of its FinFisher suite of products or related training etc to the Egyptian government’. When it was reported that five Bahraini human rights activists had been sent emails containing FinFisher trojans, Gamma suggested that the malware in question was a ‘copy of an old FinSpy demo version’ that ‘may have been stolen’. Muench also tried to point the finger at organisations that had been investigating Gamma’s practices: ‘It’s been suggested that the information was stolen on behalf of a pressure group to disrupt our business but I have no evidence yet to support that claim.’
Yet Muench’s ultimate defence is that Gamma always complies with British, American and German export regulations, recently stating that ‘Export Control Authorities … act as our moral compass’. This would be all well and good – if such export regulations existed anywhere in the world. In fact, exports of surveillance technologies remain almost entirely unlicensed and thus uncontrolled. It should also be noted that, although Gamma has been using the above justification since April 2011, the company only bothered to submit a technical information about FinFisher to the Department for Business Innovation and Skills (BIS) in June 2012. BIS, which is responsible for licensing exports in the UK, has now decided that exports of FinFisher should in fact be licensed, on the basis that the product contains cryptography.
However, the British government has thus far refused to include other surveillance tools in the export-licensing regime, apparently buying into the industry’s claims that these products are all sold for legitimate purposes. Yet BIS controls exports of hundreds of ‘dual-use’ products (products that can be used illegally or dangerously as well as having a legitimate or civilian purpose) and the industry has thus far demonstrated a woeful inability to self-regulate. Unless surveillance exports are effectively controlled by law, the action the UK has taken on Gamma’s FinFisher will be just a sticking plaster on a bullet wound. Though the European Parliament passed a resolution calling for stricter oversight of surveillance technology exports and President Obama announced an executive order to prevent such exports to Syria and Iran, there has not been any clear, decisive action as of yet. And, for dissidents and ordinary citizens alike, the space for speaking out about human rights violations and ensuring this information gets out to the wider world is narrowing all the time.
