Contents – Express yourself: Overcoming neurodiversity stereotypes

Contents

The Summer 2023 issue of Index looks at neurodiversity, the term coined in the late 1990s to identify and promote the positives of variation in human thinking which has become more widely used in the past few years. Are old stereotypes still rife? Has the perception of neurodiversity improved? If not, was this because of censorship? Using neurodivergent voices, we wanted to know about this in a global context.

The majority of the articles are written by neurodivergent people, as we wanted to put their voices front and centre. Many said they did have more of a voice, awareness had shot up and the word “neurodiversity” empowered and welcomed a growth in onscreen representation. However, at the same time it was clear that conversations around neurodiversity were playing out along society’s current fault-lines and were far from immune.

Up Front

Mind matters, by Jemimah Seinfeld: The term neurodiversity has positively challenged how we approach our minds. Has it done enough?

The Index, by Mark Frary: The latest in free expression news, from an explainer on Sudan to a cha-cha-cha starring Meghan and King Charles.

Features

Bars can't stop a bestseller, by Kaya Genç: Fiction is finding its way out of a Turkish prison, says former presidential hopeful and bestselling writer
Selahattin Demirtaş.

Don't mention femicide, by Chris Havler-Barrett: Murdered women are an inconvenience for Mexico’s president.

This is no joke, by Qian Gong and Jian Xu: The treatment of China’s comedians is no laughing matter.

Silent Disco, by Andrew Mambondiyani: Politicians are purging playlists in Zimbabwe, and musicians are speaking out.

When the Russians came, by Alina Smutko, Taras Ibragimov and Aliona Savchuk: The view from inside occupied Crimea, through the cameras of photographers banned by the Kremlin.

The language of war and peace, by JP O’Malley: Kremlin-declared “Russophobe foreign agent and traitor” Mikhail Shishkin lays out the impossible choices for Russians.

Writer's block, by Stacey Tsui: Hong Kong’s journalists are making themselves heard, thanks to blockchain technology.

The Russians risking it all, by Katie Dancey-Downs: Forced to sing songs and labelled as extremists, anti-war Russians are finding creative ways to take a stand.

The 'truth' is in the tea, by Jemimah Steinfeld: Spilling the tea on a London venue, which found itself in hot water due to a far-right speaker.

Waiting for China's tap on the shoulder, by Chu Yang: However far they travel, there’s no safe haven for journalists and academics who criticise China.

When the old fox walks the tightrope, by Danson Kahyana: An interview with Stella Nyanzi on Uganda’s latest anti-LGBTQ+ law.

Would the media lie to you?, by Ali Latifi: Fake news is flourishing in Afghanistan, in ways people might not expect.

Britain's Holocaust island, by Martin Bright: Confronting Britain’s painful secret, and why we must acknowledge what happened on Nazi-occupied Alderney.

The thorn in Vietnam's civil society side, by Thiện Việt: Thiện Việt: Responding to mass suppression with well-organised disruption.

Special Report: Express yoruself: Overcoming neurodiversity stereotypes

Not a slur, by Nick Ransom: What’s in a word? Exploring representation, and the power of the term “neurodiversity” to divide or unite.

Sit down, shut up, by Katharine P Beals: The speech of autistic non-speakers is being hijacked.

Fake it till you break it, by Morgan Barbour: Social media influencers are putting dissociative identity disorder in the spotlight, but some are accused of faking it.

Weaponising difference, by Simone Dias Marques: Ableist slurs in Brazil are equating neurodivergence with criminality.

Autism on screen is gonna be okay, by Katie Dancey-Downs: The Rain Man days are over. Everything’s Gonna Be Okay star Lillian Carrier digs into autism on screen.

Raising Malaysia's roof, by Francis Clarke: In a comedy club in Malaysia’s capital stand up is where people open up, says comedian Juliana Heng.

Living in the Shadows, by Ashley Gjøvik: When successful camouflage has a lasting impact.

Nigeria's crucible, by Ugonna-Ora Owoh: Between silence and lack of understanding, Nigeria’s neurodiverse are being mistreated.

My autism is not a lie, by Meltem Arikan: An autism diagnosis at 52 liberated a dissident playwright, but there’s no space for her truth in Turkey.

Comment

Lived experience, to a point, by Julian Baggini: When it comes to cultural debates, whose expertise carries the most weight?

France: On the road to illiberalism? by Jean-Paul Marthoz: Waving au revoir to the right to criticise.

Monitoring terrorists, gangs - and historians, by Andrew Lownie: The researcher topping the watchlist on his majesty’s secret service.

We are all dissidents, by Ruth Anderson: Calls to disassociate from certain dissidents due to their country of birth are toxic and must be challenged.

Culture

Manuscripts don't burn, by Rebecca Ruth Gould: Honouring the writers silenced by execution in Georgia, and unmuzzling their voices.

Obscenely familiar, by Marc Nash: A book arguing for legalised homosexuality is the spark for a fiction rooted in true events.

A truly graphic tale, by Taha Siddiqui and Zofeen T Ebrahim: A new graphic novel lays bare life on Pakistan’s kill list, finding atheism and a blasphemous tattoo.

A censored day? by Kaya Genç: Unravelling the questions that plague the censor, in a new short story from the Turkish author.

Poetry's peacebuilding tentacles, by Natasha Tripney: Literature has proven its powers of peace over the last decade in Kosovo.

Palestine: I still have hope, by Bassem Eid: Turning to Israel and Palestine, where an activist believes the international community is complicit in the conflict.

Zambia: How much can a new constitution really change?

(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)

(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)


By Paul Carlucci for Think Africa Press, an online magazine that offers commentary and in-depth analysis from leading African and international thinkers.


Lusaka, Zambia: A little over two years ago, when Michael Sata was campaigning for Zambia's top office, he promised that, if elected, he would finally bring to an end a decade of abandoned legal reform and deliver the country a definitive new constitution. Not only that, but he would do it within 90 days of taking power.

Sata's election campaign was successful, and soon after taking office in September 2011, the new president − along with his Patriotic Front (PF) government − tasked a committee of lawyers and academics with drafting the document.

Things soon slowed down however, and it is only now − several shrugged-off deadlines later − that Zambia seems to be nearing the completion of its constitutional process. Though that's not to say things are necessarily moving smoothly. In December 2013, the government blocked the constitutional committee from releasing its final draft to the public, insisting it be sent to the government alone, while allegations have emerged that Sata has changed his mind about Zambia's need for a new constitution, believing instead that the existing one can simply be amended.

The government has rejected these claims, asserting that Sata's commitment to a new constitution remains "unshakeable", and his two-year-old promise continues to loom large in the psyche of an increasingly outraged brigade of critics. After the 2014 budget revealed a skew of alarming numbers and the global rating agency Fitch downgraded the country's credit rating, the PF's economic success story lost its celebrated momentum, leaving it with little more than a narrative of heavy-handed autocracy.

Many of the government's opponents have closed in on the constitution as a panacea for all that ails the country, a movement that culminated in a major demonstration at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in Lusaka and which took a sensational twist on 15 January when the outspoken Zambian Watchdog published what it claims is a leak of the final draft.

A torrent of official statements followed as the drafting committee denied originating the leak, the police vowed to clamp down on what they termed a 'cybercrime', and the government vowed to track down and punish the perpetrators of the leak. The cabinet, which is meant to be deliberating the final draft, also claimed it hasn't yet received its copies of the document.

Talking the talk

While the authenticity of the leaked constitution is uncertain, it doesn't stray far from the publicly available first draft, or even from previous drafts commissioned under past administrations. Zambia's electoral system is addressed, requiring candidates to garner over 50% of the vote to hold presidential office, while parliament would be composed of members elected through a combination of first-past-the-post and proportional representation.

The draft Bill of Rights − which includes classical first generation rights as well as social, economic and cultural rights − is also more clearly articulated than it is in the existing constitution, and it seems to be these protections, more than technical changes to governance structure, that the opposition is longing for. They complain that their protests have been menaced by police and ruling party thugs, that critical media outlets have been persecuted by the government, and that the general population, especially outside the capital Lusaka, slogs through a life of poverty, illiteracy and environmental degradation.

Indeed, tackling these problems is crucial, but here's the rub: there's more than enough substance in the existing constitution to transform human rights in the country. That's not the issue. The real problem is that successive administrations, including those headed by members of the now opposition Movement for Multiparty Democracy (MMD), simply cast off their legal responsibilities when it suits them. What needs to be tackled is Zambia's tradition of impunity, which dates all the way back to the era of its independence president, Kenneth Kaunda.

When Zambia was granted independence in 1964, it started its new life with a multiparty framework, led by Kaunda's United National Independence Party (UNIP), which had won 55 of 75 seats in the pre-independence elections. But this wasn't to last. In 1972, keen outmanoeuvre political opponents both inside and outside the ruling party, Kaunda banned all political parties apart from UNIP. In 1973, he formalised one-party rule in a new constitution that also that consolidated state power in the president's office.

It was only 18 years later when Zambia was choked by debt and was facing mounting pressure from the international community that Kaunda commissioned a hasty legal review. That move led to the establishment of the 1991 constitution and multiparty elections that brought MMD leader Fredrick Chiluba to power.

Not a lot has changed since then, despite the reform commissions that have been mandated, the reports that have been produced, and the many amendments proposed. One amendment that has been passed was a provision barring candidates with foreign parentage from running for the presidency. Chiluba, assisted by Sata, who was then a member of the MMD, managed to force through this provision in 1996, effectively blocking Kaunda, whose father was born in neighbouring Malawi, from returning. The amendment still exists today, but the kinds of reforms that would hold leaders more closely to account have remained elusive.

A tradition of impunity

However, in many ways, the existing constitution does a lot of things right. It contains all the baseline requisites such as human dignity, equality before the law, protection from inhuman treatment, freedom from slavery, and freedoms of religion and expression. It also explicitly protects young people from various forms of exploitation. And under the Directive Principles of State Policy section, its clauses address employment, shelter, disability, and education. It does use some derogatory language, but so too do the current drafts of the new constitution.

The problem is that despite these legal mandates, correctional facilities are overcrowded and access to justice fails many prisoners in remand; there's a long track record of beating, arresting, and criminally charging journalists, civil society leaders, and political figures who criticise government; poverty is endemic in rural areas, where education and healthcare facilities are also inadequate and the means of pursuing a gainful livelihood are largely absent.

When it comes to social and economic rights, many developing countries explain their failures in terms of cost. How can a poor nation like Zambia be expected to improve the lot of its direly undeveloped rural areas? How can it extend its meagre health and educational resources that far? How can it afford what human rights theorists call 'positive rights', those measures that require government action to protect and maintain?

Part of the answer is to dam the ever-bubbling backwaters of corruption, which divert enormous sums from the country's development agenda. While corruption charges and trials do occur – usually motivated by political reasons – leaders from Chiluba to Sata have done little to substantively affect the diversion of public money from development to private bank accounts, while Chiluba in particular oversaw the country's most notorious chapter of embezzlement.

Steak on the table

In the short term, real change won't emerge from the government's legal apparatus. It will have to come from outside. Protesting Zambians have chalked up victories before, as when public demonstrations played a role in dissuading Chiluba from seeking an unconstitutional third term. And if NGOs, beleaguered though they are by looming registration reforms, were to focus their efforts on mobilising not just urban Zambians, but also those people living in undeveloped areas, more tangible results could be achieved.

But it's not just a case of focusing their efforts. It's a case of refocusing them. The fight for a new and improved constitution is certainly a worthy one, but civil society organisations have made a holy grail of constitutional reform, as if delivery will automatically slacken the state's grip on an array of levers it freely abuses, from stacking the judiciary with supporters to deploying waves of violent thugs in by-election campaigns.

The current opposition, meanwhile, is only too pleased to ally itself with activists, but given the MMD's own history of unjust governance, the teaming up is clearly for self-serving reasons. Rather than giving politicians such an elevated podium from which to reinvent themselves, civil society would do better to zero in on specific rights violations and protest those on the same scale as they do constitutional reform.

The other piece of this puzzle is the international community. That's a difficult prescription for a continent whose leaders routinely play their populations against what they frame as foreign interference, but sustained pressure from multilateral organisations able to reference even the current set of constitutional guarantees would help consolidate demands made in the streets.

None of this is to say that robust laws can't lay the groundwork for a future of mature, responsive governance. A strong legal framework, no matter its current irrelevance, will make for useful terms of reference in a more developed future, and human rights theorists habitually point to ambitious laws as key components to equitable progress. Indeed, what is a pie in the sky today could very well become steak on the plate tomorrow. The point is that it will take more than a good-looking tablecloth to make that happen.

This article was originally published on 21 January 2014 at Think Africa Press and is reposted here by permission.


Paul Carlucci is a Canadian writer and journalist based in Lusaka, Zambia. He has reported from Ghana and Ivory Coast for Think Africa Press, IPS Africa, Al Jazeera English, the Toronto Star, and the Toronto Standard. His collection of short stories 'The Secret Life of Fission' is available through Oberon Press. Follow him on twitter @PaulCarlucci.


Zambia: Journalists assaulted by supporters of former minister

Supporters and relatives of a former Zambian minister, who appeared in a Lusaka court on Thursday in connection with a large amount of cash which was found buried at his farm, assaulted four journalists covering the case and damaged their equipment.

Photojournalists Richard Mulonga of Times of Zambia, Mackon Wasamunu of Zambia Daily Mail, Joseph Mwenda of The Post and Muvi Television’s Mabvuto Phiri is managing editor were covering the ongoing trial of the ex-minister Austin Liato, when his supporters began verbally abusing the journalists.

As Liato was led to police cells after taking his plea in court, the photographers were beaten, and their equipment was confiscated and damaged.

Mulonga was brutally stabbed in his left hand during the attack and had to undergo treatment at Lusaka's University Teaching Hospital, where he received an injection for tetanus.

A police officer who came to the rescue of the four reporters was also badly injured. Police have since arrested two people in connection with the incident, who are believed to be assisting with identifying the attackers.

Liato is facing charges of receiving stolen property after he allegedly received and kept 2.1 billion kwacha (US$412,000) in cash with the full knowledge that it was stolen.

The attack on the journalists went against the very tenets of democracy, which Zambia supposedly upheld, MISA Zambia chapter chairperson Daniel Sikazwe said.

Sikazwe said it was the duty of the media to inform the public on issues that affected everyone’s welfare and they should not be victimised for performing their duty.

Press Freedom Committee (PFC) Executive Secretary, Leah Kabamba said there was no justification for Liato’s supporters' targeting of journalists, who had found themselves at the court grounds to execute their duty of informing the public.

“We condemned in strongest terms this attack on journalists. It barbaric and malicious,” Kabamba  said.

She added: “Journalists do not need anyone’s permission to inform the general public on matters of public interest.”