Project Exile: Turkish journalist still fearful in Germany

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]This article is part of Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist’s Project Exile series, which has published interviews with exiled journalists from around the world.[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”“I try to live isolated to protect myself. “”][vc_separator][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]

Zubyede Sari

When she got her start in the news business in 2009, Turkish journalist Zübeyde Sari couldn’t have imagined her chosen profession would cause her to have to leave her homeland.

At that time, Turkey’s then-prime minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan was making peace overtures to Kurdish separatists, the Arab Spring that triggered civil war in neighbouring Syria was still more than a year away, and Turkish journalists and opposition parties had significant latitude to criticise Erdogan and the ruling AKP party. 

After graduating from university in the southern port town of Mersin, Sari later moved east to the mainly Kurdish city of Diyarbakir, about 60 miles (97km) from the Syrian border. There she became a correspondent for BBC Turkish and the pro-Kurdish IMC TV,  eventually covering the Syrian civil war as well as Turkey’s conflict with the PKK, a Kurdish militia.  

Yet Turkey was becoming a more restrictive place for journalists. Censorship increased after massive protests in 2013 in Istanbul’s Gezi Park. Gezi Park. In 2016, a failed military coup against President Erdogan triggered a ferocious crackdown on dissidents. More than 150,000 civil servants, police officers and academics were fired from government jobs for suspected disloyalty, according to a tally from the website Turkeypurge.com. Over 300 journalists were arrested and 189 media outlets shut down. IMC TV was raided by police and shutdown mid-broadcast.

Sari survived the initial purges, but in late 2018 she was forced to flee to Germany.  “I had to leave in just one night,” she says. “They put my face on all the front pages of the magazines, accusing me of being part of a broadcast television network connected to the Kurdish movement. The next day, I would have woken up with the police knocking at my front door.”

Soon after leaving, she published an article for the site SuperHaber.tv detailing collaboration between the ruling AKP party and Turkish security in the construction of hidden prisons for political dissidents. Now 36, she lives in Berlin, Germany and works for Özgürüz [We Are Free], an online Turkish news portal founded by the well-known exiled journalist Can Dündar. 

Sari, who still fears threatened by the many pro-Erdogan Turkish immigrants in Germany, spoke with Global Journalist’s Arianna Suardi. Below, an edited version of their interview:

Global Journalist: Why exactly were you targeted? 

Sari: It’s complicated, but I think the Turkish government chose to target me because I’m reporting the truth about the political situation in Turkey. I talk about corruption and the lack of freedom of expression, and of course Erdogan’s party doesn’t like it. I also have friends who are Kurdish and [minority] Alevis and that’s probably why I’ve been accused of being one of them.

GJ: How was it to leave in just one night?

Sari: I’m still under the impact of that feeling. You basically leave your life behind with a small suitcase. It was November 2018, in one night I packed all the things I could and in the early morning I went to the airport and I took the first plane to Berlin. 

I feel I don’t belong in this place. Leaving your country is a problem, but settling down in another one isn’t easy either.

GJ: Is life in Germany different than you imagined?

Sari: I’m working for  Özgürüz. I can do my profession and I’ve been supported by [press freedom group] Reporters Without Borders. But it’s still very difficult here, more than I imagined. That’s why I started getting therapy. One important aspect is that I don’t speak German. I’m basically restarting my life from the beginning.

GJ: When do you think it will be possible to go back to Turkey?

Sari: I’ve packed my luggage everyday hoping to go back, and I’m still doing it. The problem is the climate of freedom of expression – in Turkey it’s terrible. You need press cards from the government to be a journalist. The government has full control over press card distribution. All the media outlets in Turkey are controlled by Erdogan, and if you’re not part of them you’re considered a terrorist or a traitor. 

GJ: Now that you’re in Germany, do you feel free to express yourself or do you still feel pressure?

Sari: No, I can’t express myself. No one has actually threatened me so far, but I just try to hide myself as a form of protection. Sometimes I have the feeling that [Turkish] people in Germany do not really understand what is happening in Turkey, and that is the reason why they sympathise with Erdogan. 

I prefer ignoring them rather than get into trouble…I try to avoid every private and personal conversation because I’m scared. It’s not easy, but when, for example, I have to take a taxi, I don’t reveal my identity nor my views about politics. Just yesterday, I was in a taxi and I lied about my profession, I said I was an accountant because I didn’t feel safe. I lie all the time, and I try to live isolated to protect myself.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/6BIZ7b0m-08″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist is a website that features global press freedom and international news stories as well as a weekly radio program that airs on KBIA, mid-Missouri’s NPR affiliate, and partner stations in six other states. The website and radio show are produced jointly by professional staff and student journalists at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, the oldest school of journalism in the United States.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Don’t lose your voice. Stay informed.”][vc_separator color=”black”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship is a nonprofit that campaigns for and defends free expression worldwide. We publish work by censored writers and artists, promote debate, and monitor threats to free speech. We believe that everyone should be free to express themselves without fear of harm or persecution – no matter what their views.

Join our mailing list (or follow us on Twitter or Facebook). We’ll send you our weekly newsletter, our monthly events update and periodic updates about our activities defending free speech. We won’t share, sell or transfer your personal information to anyone outside Index.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][gravityform id=”20″ title=”false” description=”false” ajax=”false”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][three_column_post title=”Global Journalist / Project Exile” full_width_heading=”true” category_id=”22142″][/vc_column][/vc_row]

Project Exile: Reporter escaped Russia after beating, burns

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”107775″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes”][vc_column_text]This article is part of Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist’s Project Exile series, which has published interviews with exiled journalists from around the world.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]

Fatima Tlisova didn’t make it easy for the Russian government to get rid of her. 

As a reporter covering Russia’s fight against Chechen separatists in what was known as the Second Chechen war in the early 2000s, she was kidnapped, beaten and had her fingertips burned with cigarettes by Russian security forces. A colleague at the independent newspaper Novaya Gazeta who also wrote critically of the Chechen war, Anna Politkovskaya, was murdered in 2006. When she later worked as a correspondent for the Associated Press, pro-government media labeled her a traitor and a CIA agent.

Tlisova was threatened again and again, and still she stayed, reporting from both Chechnya as well as the other small Caucasus republics where separatists fought against Russian rule. Finally in 2007, just months after Politkovskaya’s murder and with threats mounting against not just her but also her family, she decided to flee.

Tlisova went first to Turkey. Then, after being granted political asylum in the U.S., was resettled in Erie, Penn. and worked at a plastics factory for $6.25 per hour. With the help of the Committee to Protect Journalists, she won a Nieman Foundation fellowship to study at Harvard University and was able to relaunch her career in journalism. In 2015, she was invited to the White House to meet then-president Barack Obama in honor of World Press Freedom Day. 

Born and raised in a small town in the republic of Karachay-Cherkessia, east of the Black Sea resort of Sochi, Tlisova now lives in Washington, D.C. and works for the Russian-language service of the Voice of America. Her two children, now in their mid-twenties, live in the U.S. as well. Tlisova, 52, who also uses the last name Tlis, spoke with Global Journalist’s Connor O’Halloran about the extensive efforts by President Vladimir Putin’s government to silence her, and her rocky transition to life in the U.S. Below, an edited version of their interview: 

[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”107773″ img_size=”full”][vc_column_text]

Global Journalist: Tell us about the first time you got into trouble with Russian authorities.

Fatima Tlisova: The first issue happened in 2001 when I started reporting on the war in Chechnya and the so-called ‘special operation’ the Russian military was conducting all around the Caucasus. Some of my reports, most of them actually, did not please the authorities.

I reported about the behavior of the Russian commanders…and I witnessed their behavior towards Chechen girls and the local people. And I wrote an article about that. So I was punished, and by punishment, I mean that it was physical. Two large men, unknown to me, ambushed me next to my house and they physically attacked me…I suffered more than one broken rib… 

At the end, they said, “Nothing personal. You know what you are punished for.”

After that there were many different situations when I was arrested, kidnapped. This escalated [when I went to work for] AP because at the time, foreign reporters had to obtain multiple licenses and permissions to get to the Caucasus – and I was reporting directly from the Caucasus. Most of the time, the reports I provided were absolutely exclusive because no other factual, reliable, eyewitness journalism was coming from the Caucasus – especially to the Western audience in English. 

So suddenly the government media started publishing and broadcasting reports calling me a CIA agent, calling me a traitor to Russia because I was working for the AP…what they saw as American media.

GJ: How many times were you detained?

Tlisova: Almost weekly. Anytime I was assigned to go some place and to send reports. In Russia, especially in the Caucuses at the time, there were military installations called ‘block posts’: military or police or combined, at every entrance road to every single city or town. Imagine you have to drive to several villages or even cross borders between republics.

That means that at every single block post, you are going to be stopped, you’re going to be pulled in. Your body’s going to be searched, your possessions searched. Every single time they were waiting for some command from above before they would release me. Sometimes it lasted for an hour, sometimes for a day. 

GJ: Tell us about your kidnapping in 2005.

Tlisova: The kidnapping happened when I was trying to help two German colleagues from Moscow to write about a local insurgency in Nalchik, Kabardindino-Balkariya [200 km west of Grozny, Chechnya].

I had a meeting with them scheduled that day and I decided to stop by my bank to withdraw some cash. At the exit of the bank, there was a car. At that time, I’d been under 24/7 surveillance for months – and I could even identify cars that belong to different [security] departments. All of them were following me in different vehicles. 

This time, it was an FSB [Russian internal security service] vehicle. They usually have tinted windows, absolutely dark. They cut me off and the door opened. A voice said, “If you want to see your children again, get in.” 

My kids, I knew they were at school. I had no ability to check on them so I just went into the car. They took me outside the city. There was this forest that was not very populated…not many people walking around. 

They kept me there for the entire day. They were very angry. One of them said: “You don’t know, but two very good guys were fired today from the FSB. Do you know how much they had to pay in bribes to get those positions? Now they lost everything. Who’s going to feed their families?”

And that continued with insults, with beatings, with [them] burning cigarettes on my skin for an entire day. 

Apparently, they’d been waiting for some kind of command about what to do with me next. Later on, I learned that somebody inside the FSB alerted a friend who was a very influential businessman. His name was Stanislav…he interfered and a source [later] told me that he had to pay the FSB for my release. 

The next morning I was all covered in bruises and burns.

GJ: So it was after that you finally took the decision to leave?

Tlisova: It wasn’t exactly that moment. But almost a year later. These arrests continued. 

When your friends read some nasty stuff about you in the local newspapers or government newspapers, the first time they call you, they laugh. But when they read it three or four times, you notice that when you see a longtime friend on the street, they just can’t look you in the eye. He or she just crosses the street and pretends they can’t see  you. 

And then sometime later they’ll call you from a public phone and tell you: “Please don’t think bad about me. If I just exchange two words with you, I’m going to be called in by the FSB and questioned.”

That explanation was actually good enough for me to stop contacting even close friends. 

I understood that the entire [government media] campaign was not only to punish me and not only to scare me from doing my duties as a journalist, but also to discredit and isolate me. It was a combination of different methods to silence a journalist. 

GJ: So when did you finally decide to leave?

Tlisova: I never wanted to leave. I love my work, I was very successful as a journalist. I felt that journalism was my calling and my mission. But at a certain point, I realized that this wasn’t about me anymore. It was about my family. 

In 2006, a group of 15 masked men raided my parents’ house who lived 200 miles away from me [in Karachay-Cherkessia]. They searched the house, turned it upside down. My father kept asking: “What’s going on? What are you looking for?”

When they finished, they told him, “Thank your daughter.”

I was prohibited from ever entering government buildings, but suddenly in 2006 I received this phone call inviting me to meet with the head of the presidential administration of Kabardino-Balkraira [a small Russian republic in the North Caucasus]. I knew the man before he joined the government and I knew he was a good man, so I decided I should go. 

That man actually started shouting at me as soon as I opened the door. He said: “What do you think of yourself? Disgracing our republic before the entire world? What kind of articles are you writing? What kind of reports?”

At the same time, he was frantically writing something on a piece of paper. And then he showed it to me. 

It said: “Please leave. They’re going to kill you.” 

He saw that I read the comment and he kept shouting. And then he started tearing that piece of paper apart into very microscopic pieces. He didn’t even dare to trash it. He very carefully collected the pieces from his table and put them in his pocket. 

This wasn’t the only warning. There were a lot of warnings, but some of them I totally dismissed.

There were two instances that I thought were genuine, sincere and clear. One of them was the minister.

The other guy was my former classmate, who became head of one of the FSB departments. Once, like they always do, a car cut me off on the sidewalk. It stopped and he jumped out and said, “Don’t worry, it’s me.” 

We greeted each other, and then he said, “I know you’re going to think they sent me to scare you, to frighten you. Trust me, I’m coming at my own risk. I know if this gets out I can lose my job.”

He said, “But just so you know, we have lists. You are on those lists. Those lists never expire.” 

I didn’t ask any questions, and then he looked at me and he added, “Your friend Anna Politkovskaya, she was on the list. So we are clear what kind of list I’m talking about.”

The thought came to my mind, I mean, it’s horrible if they kill me when I’m alone. But what if they do something when I’m with my kids? That is something I cannot allow or forgive myself for. That’s when I decided to leave. 

GJ: How did you finally get out?

Tlisova: I had to first go to Turkey. All I could bring with me was 25 kilograms of personal possessions. My entire life, everything had to be left behind. Of course, they took my computer. I lost my entire archive. 

GJ: What happened when you got to the U.S.?

Tlisova: I see there’s a lot of talk about refugees…about how much money they take from U.S. taxpayers. Trust me, when you have to abandon everything and come here and start from zero, you cannot rent a house or a car. You can’t apply for a credit card. You have nothing! 

So you just start from zero. I worked at a factory for $6.25 an hour. The plastic factory was producing plastic bottles for water and drinks. All of the refugees who came to that institution [in Erie, Penn.] worked at that factory. 

GJ: How did you get back to journalism? 

Tlisova: I wrote a proposal for a Harvard fellowship. It was in Russian because my knowledge of English was zero at the time. It was 2007. So I wrote the proposal in Russian. The Committee to Protect Journalists, they found somebody in New York who translated that proposal overnight…15 pages into English. Then someone in Boston took that proposal physically, in person, to Harvard. 

I started screaming when I opened the letter from Harvard University. It said: “It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted for a fellowship at Harvard University.”

My kids got scared, they ran to me. I said, “Harvard! We’re going to Boston!” 

[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/6BIZ7b0m-08″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist is a website that features global press freedom and international news stories as well as a weekly radio program that airs on KBIA, mid-Missouri’s NPR affiliate, and partner stations in six other states. The website and radio show are produced jointly by professional staff and student journalists at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, the oldest school of journalism in the United States. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Don’t lose your voice. Stay informed.” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_separator color=”black”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship is a nonprofit that campaigns for and defends free expression worldwide. We publish work by censored writers and artists, promote debate, and monitor threats to free speech. We believe that everyone should be free to express themselves without fear of harm or persecution – no matter what their views.

Join our mailing list (or follow us on Twitter or Facebook). We’ll send you our weekly newsletter, our monthly events update and periodic updates about our activities defending free speech. We won’t share, sell or transfer your personal information to anyone outside Index.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][gravityform id=”20″ title=”false” description=”false” ajax=”false”][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content”][vc_column][three_column_post title=”Global Journalist / Project Exile” full_width_heading=”true” category_id=”22142″][/vc_column][/vc_row]

Project Exile: Criticising Kurdish referendum forces journalist to leave Iraq

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]This article is part of Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist’s Project Exile series, which has published interviews with exiled journalists from around the world.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]

Kamal Chomani

Kamal Chomani

Iraq’s autonomous Kurdish region has long had a reputation in the west as a bastion of stability in a chaotic region plagued by religious and ethnic tension. Yet despite the oil-rich region’s close ties to the U.S. and billions of dollars in foreign investment, Iraqi Kurdistan is no easy place to be a journalist. 

One example of this is the experience of journalist and blogger Kamal Chomani. Chomani, who wrote for local and international news outlets including the Kurdistan Tribune and Al-Monitor,  was a frequent critic of Kurdistan’s two entrenched parties: the Kurdish Democratic Party (KDP) of regional President Nechirvan Barzani, and the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) of former Iraqi president Jalal Talabani.

Chomani had been threatened as far back as 2011, when he escaped abduction by Kurdish security forces intent on quashing dissent during the Arab Spring by sprinting into a supermarket. Yet it was not until political tensions spiked again in 2017 during Iraqi Kurds’ independence referendum, a vote Chomani had criticised and that the international community did not recognise, that he felt his situation had become untenable.

“There were death threats every day on social media and messages labeling me as a traitor,” he says, in an interview with Global Journalist. 

Chomani, who lived in the Kurdish region’s capital Erbil, realised he either had to quit criticising the Kurdish leadership or leave. With the help of Germany’s Hamburg Foundation for Politically Persecuted People, he left last year.

A former correspondent for the press freedom group Reporters Without Borders, the 34-year-old is now a nonresident fellow with the Tahrir Institute for Middle East Policy and lives in Hamburg. He told his story to Global Journalist’s Franziska Stadlmayer. Below, an edited version of their conversation:[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]

Global Journalist: Tell us about your work in Iraqi Kurdistan.

Kamal Chomani: When the Kurdistan region was founded in 1991 and recognized by Iraq in 2003, many Kurdish youth, writers and journalists were not satisfied with the political system. We thought our dreams of freedom and justice had been stolen.

I was one of those young Kurds who tried to push reforms and make our dreams come true. For example, in Kurdistan we have no national army or national security forces. We have these forces that are linked to the political parties and two families. The Peshmerga [militia] forces fought for freedom before 1991 but turned against the people after the liberation of Kurdistan. For me as a journalist and Kurd this is not acceptable.

I have written about this and the misconduct of the ruling parties. During the fake referendum on independence, I criticized why the referendum should not be held at this time. This was not accepted by the ruling [KDP] party and I was called a traitor, like many other friends at home and abroad. I also criticized the oil policy of the Kurdish regions, which is more the policy of the KDP because it serves the government and the [ruling] families more than the region. 

GJ: What kind of intimidation did you experience?

Chomani: Sometimes you just got phone calls – you don’t know from whom. And sometimes people tell you indirectly that writing this will eventually put your life in danger.  

Sometimes, the security forces knock at your door at 11 p.m. For instance, [one evening] I had guests at my home at 11 p.m. The security forces came to home, forcing the guests to leave my house. 

Sometimes it is a kidnapping attempt. I have some [sources] within the institutions and those people warned. They’d contact you to meet you secretly and tell you something is going on: that you should take care of yourself, that you should not use your car, always be guarded by your friends or your family…I was given such kind of warning before, but I never took that seriously until during the [2017] referendum. This time, I was very much afraid to be targeted. 

GJ: They also tried to kidnap you?

Chomani: A few times. The last time before I came here was probably in March 2018. There was a protest in [the town of] Choman and I was there as a journalist. The protesters were about 50 teachers and [government] employees who demanded their salaries because the government had not paid them for months. I wanted to report and be a voice for them. But then the head of the security forces of the KDP came to me, and called me the person behind the protest. 

The leader of the Asayhish [security agency] took my hand…he told me to either leave or they would beat me very terribly. 

Then he started pulling my hands and took me with him while two other guys, bodyguards, came. The demonstrators held my belt from behind and started shouting against the Asayhish guys. They began to shout that they were ready to fight back. When people realized that something very serious was going on, other people came because their family members were there. I was lucky [the security agents] couldn’t take me with them. 

GJ: Was that the only time? 

Chomani: In 2011, I was with a colleague in Erbil and we were meeting a high official of Kurdistan, just to discuss what is going on in the region. But there were some people following me and my friend and they tried to kidnap us. 

They stopped their car very fast, came out and told me: “Hey man, come with us.” 

They had Kalashnikovs, big sticks and pistols in hand. 

We ran away and we were lucky. They chased us running but they could not hurt us because there were people in the street. Somehow we got to a supermarket almost 100 meters away. When people came out of the supermarket, we were able to go in, into the crowd, and they stopped. 

That was in 2011 during the Arab Spring when the KDP and the PUK were kidnapping some activists – critics and journalists. They were taking them outside the city, beating them to death and then throwing them somewhere. This happened to several people…2011 was a dark time.

GJ: Why did you leave Iraqi Kurdistan?

Chomani: Since 2006 I have been a critical journalist writing about freedom of speech, corruption in the oil sector, democracy and human rights violations – also about the nationalist rhetoric of the KDP and the crimes the KDP and PUK committed during the [1994-1998] civil war. This has not been accepted easily…I was able to resist all those years of death threats and kidnapping attempts.

But during the referendum in 2017, I was more vocal. We were very few people inside the Kurdistan region who had a critical view towards the referendum – against the timing and the legality and the purposes. We were labeled a group of traitors. 

There were death threats every day on social media and messages labeling me as a traitor. If I stayed in the Kurdistan region, my life would have been at risk. I would have had to stop writing critically or comprise on what I believe in. Therefore I decided to leave…better to be exiled abroad than feeling exiled at home.

GJ: How did you do that?

Chomani: I reached to some international organizations [to tell them] that I needed a break. Reporters Without Borders got in touch with one of the organizations here in Germany, it’s called the Hamburg Foundation for Politically Persecuted People. It’s a program that gives one year of scholarship here in Hamburg and during this year you will be able to continue your work while living in a safe place. I am going to do a master’s program soon and return with more knowledge. 

[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/6BIZ7b0m-08″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist is a website that features global press freedom and international news stories as well as a weekly radio program that airs on KBIA, mid-Missouri’s NPR affiliate, and partner stations in six other states. The website and radio show are produced jointly by professional staff and student journalists at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, the oldest school of journalism in the United States. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Don’t lose your voice. Stay informed.” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_separator color=”black”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship is a nonprofit that campaigns for and defends free expression worldwide. We publish work by censored writers and artists, promote debate, and monitor threats to free speech. We believe that everyone should be free to express themselves without fear of harm or persecution – no matter what their views.

Join our mailing list (or follow us on Twitter or Facebook). We’ll send you our weekly newsletter, our monthly events update and periodic updates about our activities defending free speech. We won’t share, sell or transfer your personal information to anyone outside Index.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][gravityform id=”20″ title=”false” description=”false” ajax=”false”][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content”][vc_column][three_column_post title=”Global Journalist / Project Exile” full_width_heading=”true” category_id=”22142″][/vc_column][/vc_row]

Project Exile: Moroccan journalist Hicham Mansouri flees after being stripped and jailed

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]This article is part of Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist’s Project Exile series, which has published interviews with exiled journalists from around the world.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”107703″ img_size=”full”][vc_column_text]When the security software on Moroccan journalist Hicham Mansouri’s computer alerted him that there had been a number of attempts to hack his email, he did what came naturally: he began investigating. 

Little did he know that the 2015 incident would be followed by a bizarre effort by Moroccan police to sexually humiliate him and a female friend and ten torturous months in jail after being arrested on trumped-up charges of operating a brothel and adultery, which is illegal in the North African nation. 

Efforts to prosecute or intimidate journalists are not unusual in Morocco, and as Mansouri’s story demonstrates, the government of King Mohammed VI can be both cruel and creative in its efforts to silence dissenting voices. The kingdom ranks 135th out of 180 countries on Reporters Without Borders’ 2019 World Press Freedom Index, below nations like Afghanistan, Zimbabwe and the Philippines. Morocco was also named in a 2018 report from the Canadian Citizen Lab as a country where Pegasus spyware is used to track mobile phones of civil society activists. 

Mansouri himself, a co-founder of the Moroccan Association of Investigative Journalists, had already been beaten up by strangers in September 2014 after leaving a meeting at a hotel with the Moroccan historian and prominent dissident Maâti Monjib. Even today, after 10 months in jail on adultery charges, two hunger strikes and three years in exile in France, Mansouri faces pending charges of threatening state security in Morocco. These stem from his involvement with StoryMaker, an app that helps citizen journalists create video reports based on events they witness. 

Yet Mansouri remains undaunted. Now living in France, he blogs for the French online investigative and opinion site Mediapart and contributes to the Italian newspaper Caffe Dei Giornalisti as well as the online site of Maison des journalistes, a group that provides housing to journalists in exile. Mansouri spoke with Global Journalist’s Gaëlle Fournier about his imprisonment, his continuing legal troubles and life in exile. Below, an edited and translated version of their conversation:[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]

Hicham Mansouri was beaten up on September 24, 2014. (Photo: Ahmed Bensedik)

Hicham Mansouri was beaten up on September 24, 2014. (Photo: Ahmed Bensedik)

Global Journalist: Tell us about your journalism career.

Hicham Mansouri: I worked for a regional newspaper called Machahid in [the southern coastal city of] Agadir and then for the non-governmental organisations Free Press Unlimited and International Media Support in Rabat. 

In 2009, I participated in an investigative journalism programme. With some colleagues, we decided to create a network of Moroccan investigative journalists. The association was recognised in 2011, two days after the Arab Spring began in Morocco. I was then programme director of the association, but now the association has ceased its activities. The website of the AMJI [Moroccan Association for Investigative Journalism] was hacked and replaced by pornographic content. We were censored and received threats.

GJ: How would you describe the environment for the press in Morocco?

Mansouri: Freedom of the press is differentiated geographically. If you’re living around Casablanca or [the capital] Rabat, more things are tolerated than they are in the countryside.

There are what is commonly called the three “red lines” in Morocco. These topics are likely to be censored: Islam, the monarchy and the issue of Western Sahara [a territory claimed by Morocco]. 

All independent newspapers that have addressed these issues have been punished by the authorities. Editors have been put in jail, so they cease their activities. There is a lot of self-censorship

Some journalists are even in trouble for translating foreign articles into Arabic. Not many people read newspapers in Morocco as there is a high illiteracy rate. The journalists who get in trouble are [often] the broadcasters. 

GJ: You spent 10 months in jail after being arrested for adultery and operating a brothel. This came right after you began investigating the electronic surveillance of journalists and activists, including yourself.

Mansouri: I was working on an investigative piece about electronic surveillance when I got arrested by the police in 2015. I’m not a cybersecurity specialist, but thanks to software, I found the IP addresses [of the cyber attacker]. They were protected by malware and I decided to investigate. I tried to delete the two addresses but found that they could not be deleted.

I found this strange, so I contacted the creator of the [security] software who indeed told me that there was something wrong. 

Three days later, I was arrested. It was around 10am on a morning back in 2015. I was seeing a female friend and five minutes after she arrived, the police broke down the door of my apartment and forced me to undress.

They also tried to undress the woman in order to stage a scene showing us engaged in adultery. The police filmed the entire thing from the beginning. 

At trial, we asked the police video be shown as proof of what happened, but they refused. They only showed pictures they took of me, almost naked, on my bed. They also said they found a used condom on the bed. 

I had been assaulted a few months prior to this, so I was really paranoid. I found out later that I had been watched by the police for a few months prior to my arrest. 

GJ: You were later jailed on the adultery charge. Tell us about your time behind bars.

Mansouri: It was very hard. I felt the invisible hand of repression and it followed me everywhere. 

The first day in jail, I was thrown in a cell with [serious] criminals, while I should have been assigned to the what’s called Block A, which is reserved for first-time offenders like me. I was sent to Block D, which the inmates call “the trash,” the worst of all. The cell was overcrowded. I had to sleep on the floor in unsanitary conditions. Within a week I was infested with lice. 

The worst was the violence I witnessed, including fights between inmates and self-harm. I even thought some of the fights were orchestrated to kill me. 

I went on two hunger strikes, which eventually led the authorities to provide me with some books and newspapers and assign me to a block with inmates suspected of terrorism, who were watched by policemen. 

I tried to survive and write about my memories in jail. This diary project is not so much about sharing my experience, it’s about telling the stories of the inmates I met, who came back from Syria, were tortured, used drugs. However, my experience in jail is not unique. It is one all activists and journalists [jailed in Morocco] have to go through.

Hicham Mansouri being welcomed out of the prison by his friend and colleague Maâti Monjib, who was nominated for an Index on Censorship Award for Campaigning in 2017. Monjib, a historian and writer, along Hicham Mansouri and five other journalists, is accused of endangering Moroccan state security. Their trial has been postponed 14 times since its start in 2015.

Hicham Mansouri being welcomed out of the prison by his friend and colleague Maâti Monjib, who was nominated for an Index on Censorship Award for Campaigning in 2017. Monjib, a historian and writer, along Hicham Mansouri and five other journalists, is accused of endangering Moroccan state security. Their trial has been postponed 14 times since its start in 2015.

GJ: Even though you’re in France, you still face trial in Morocco on “suspicion of endangering state security” along with six co-defendants. This charge was also brought against you in 2015 and the trial has been postponed 14 times.

Mansouri: It began with a citizen journalism project called StoryMaker, created in partnership with Free Press Unlimited and The Guardian. We are officially accused of falsifying videos and photos with this app, which we created to be a reporting tool for citizens. 

The authorities told me that “investigation” is the work of the police, not the media. We are even accused of spying and diverting funds from state-owned media. There is no evidence for any of this.

Every time there is a hearing [in Rabat], the file is not even open and the trial is postponed to another date. It’s like the sword of Damocles. Before, we used to defend our innocence. But now we just want the matter brought before a judge for a decision, whether it’s for or against us. 

GJ: Even after you were jailed, you did a major environmental investigation. What did you find?

Mansouri: In 2016, I did an investigation about Morocco importing 2,500 tons of toxic industrial waste from Italy. The toxic industrial waste was burnt to make cement in Morocco, something that is strictly forbidden in Europe.

Based on documents, it revealed the existence of indirect links between cement works owned by the king’s holding company and an international environmental business tied to the Italian mafia. It was published by the news site Lakome2, whose founder is actually being prosecuted for “sympathising with terrorism”.

GJ: How did you decide when was the right time to leave Morocco?

Mansouri: I made the decision to leave my country when I was in jail. I did not tell anyone. The physical and psychological torture I experienced led to my exile. My first day in prison, I had tachycardia [abnormally fast heartbeat], and I was beaten by a prison guard. I really felt suicidal. I felt like I was suffocating, not able to speak, to cry, to scream. I was ready to do anything to leave this hell. 

I decided to leave Morocco when I learned that the judge who sent me to jail [for adultery] was also the one who was going to work on the state security case. I know how he proceeds and it did not portend anything good.

When I learned this, I had been in jail for six months. It was a nightmare. It was as if I was in a bottomless pit. Everything was dark. I could not bear staying five more years in jail when I could have spent those years studying for a PhD. 

GJ: What are your plans for the future?

Mansouri:  Living in exile is far from being easy. You have to start for scratch.

I was mostly busy over the past two years with my asylum application, which was a real obstacle course.

I’m now working on an observation project on hate speech in several countries of the MENA (Middle East and North Africa) region like Jordan, Tunisia, Egypt for the NGO MENA Media Monitoring. We have published two reports so far. I continue to fight for what is happening in Morocco, I keep on testifying to show the truth. I’m publishing from time to time articles on my Mediapart blog. I’m also finishing my master’s in political science[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/6BIZ7b0m-08″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist is a website that features global press freedom and international news stories as well as a weekly radio program that airs on KBIA, mid-Missouri’s NPR affiliate, and partner stations in six other states. The website and radio show are produced jointly by professional staff and student journalists at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, the oldest school of journalism in the United States. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Don’t lose your voice. Stay informed.” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_separator color=”black”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship is a nonprofit that campaigns for and defends free expression worldwide. We publish work by censored writers and artists, promote debate, and monitor threats to free speech. We believe that everyone should be free to express themselves without fear of harm or persecution – no matter what their views.

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