Awards Gala tickets“I may lose my life anytime,” Zimbabwean human rights campaigned Nkosilathi Emmanuel Moyo told Index. At the time he was still hiding in South Africa, having fled after news of his last action went viral – he sent Robert Mugabe a birthday present that consisted of a prison outfit marked ‘crimes against humanity’, plus handcuffs.“I started receiving death threats through anonymous calls. My office and my home were visited by suspected state agents who were looking for me. Then I realised that my life was and is in danger and I went into hiding,” he said.
Born in 1987, the same year Mugabe became president, Nkosilathi Emmanuel Moyo was political from a young age. “It’s more of an inborn thing. I remember when I was growing up at that stage where most kids would be interested in watching cartoons I could be seen watching news from CNN to BBC,” he said.
And Moyo watched as Mugabe, who originally fought for independence and assumed power as Zimbabwe’s anti-colonial hero, imposed an increasingly dictatorial regime. Mugabe’s ruling party, the Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF), and Zimbabwe’s security forces, went on to oversee systematic human rights violations. In the post-2000 era, during Moyo’s teenage years, Zimbabwe witnessed unprecedented political violence, leading to an economic freefall, with year-on-year inflation exceeding 1,000%.
Growing up in a small mining town, Moyo saw the young people around him manipulated by politicians to perpetuate this political violence, at the same time that they were pushed to the peripheries of political leadership and policy making. “The youth became ‘willing’ tools of abuse due to economic hardships,” he says, which included “victimising the electorate in election times.” So in 2010, at the age of 23, Moyo set up the Zimbabwe Organization For The Youth In Politics (ZOYP), along with Jasper Maposa, a community leader from his town. “We sought to enculture the youths to resist being used as agents of politically motivated violence,” he said.
ZOYP has now trained a small army of over 2,500 activists, with a new brand of peaceful politics to counter 92-year-old Mugabe’s violent regime. He has also trained 80 human rights defenders in a grassroots programme called the Community Human Rights Defenders Academy, working in remote areas of Zimbabwe.
Now author of four best-selling political books, Moyo has become an important critic of a regime notorious for disappearing, intimidating and arresting dissenting voices – criticism that has not gone unnoticed.
After publishing his book in 2015, Robert Mugabe: From Freedom Fighter to the People’s Enemy, Moyo faced increased state surveillance and death threats. He fled to the Netherlands for three months, staying with Shelter City in Utrecht, an initiative set up to protect human rights campaigners. As soon as he returned to Zimbabwe he published another book, criticising Robert Mugabe’s wife, Grace Mugabe: “Africa’s upcoming first female dictator.”
He’s been arrested in the past for his politics, after organising a youth event where former US Ambassador to Zimbabwe Charles Ray was a speaker. Charged under the Public Order and Security Act – a repressive law used to silence dissenting voices, particularly from civil society organisations and ZANU-PF opposition – he was sentenced to six months in prison, later getting off with a fine.
“My arrest did not come as a shock,” he told Index. And likewise the reaction to Mugabe’s birthday gift is not surprising, but Moyo remains defiant. “I don’t regret what I did, indeed President Mugabe must answer for crimes against humanity which he committed. Justice must prevail in Zimbabwe.”
Moyo has now set his sights worldwide, working to establish an international platform for young with political aspirations. “Looking at what is happening in Burundi, Syria, Uganda only to mention a few, I think there is a need,” he says. “Developing young people in politics is a step towards creating a peaceful world.”
The increasingly autocratic government of Recep Tayyip Erdogan, president of Turkey, has clamped down on press freedom and opposing political viewpoints. Index on Censorship has condemned the ongoing attack on freedom of expression and, through its project Mapping Media Freedom, monitored the growing threats to the media. Below is a roundup of our recent reporting on media violations in Turkey.
Below is a roundup of our recent reporting on the ongoing media freedom crisis in Turkey.
Letter: EU must not ignore collapse of media freedom in Turkey
Press freedom and media organisations wrote to Donald Tusk, president of the European Council ahead of the meeting between EU leaders and Ahmet Davutoğlu, prime minister of Turkey, to express their concern over the collapse of media freedom in Turkey. Read the full letter
Turkish court orders seizure of Zaman news group
The seizure of Turkey’s biggest opposition newspaper is the latest move against press freedom in the country. Since the election of Turkey’s president Recep Tayyip Erdoğan in 2014, the increasingly autocratic politician has waged an ongoing war with voices critical of his government. Read the full article
Zaman: The murder of a newspaper
On Friday night, security forces stormed Zaman, the widest-circulating Turkish newspaper. Though many Turkish news outlets studiously avoided covering the raids, the screens of international news channels were full of images of Turkish police using tear gas and water cannon against protestors trying to protect their paper. Particularly striking were the injuries to young women wearing Islamic headgear, the very segment of the community, which the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) once vowed to defend. Read the full article
Turkey: A long line of press freedom violations
Turkey’s government and courts have demonstrated their unwillingness to adhere to basic values on press freedom and media pluralism. From judicial harassment and seizing media companies to silencing Kurdish and critical media, Turkey’s government has been used by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan to silence critical voices in the country. Read the full article
Zaman’s censored writers The following columns were submitted to and rejected by the new management of the seized Zaman and Today’s Zaman.
Yavuz Baydar: Bid farewell to journalism, and lose Turkey
Following the presidential attacks on Turkey’s top judicial body, the Constitutional Court, stemming from its pro-freedom ruling over the case of Can Dündar and Erdem Gül of Cumhuriyet, and the unplugging two opposition channels from Türksat satellite, the dramatic seizure of Zaman and this newspaper, Today’s Zaman, both highly influential in their own ways, is one of the final nails in the coffin of journalism in Turkey. Read the full column
Nicole Pope: A lack of free media allows Turkish authorities to control the narrative
How do you write a column for a newspaper that still exists nominally but has been taken over by trustees appointed by an “independent” court? Such are the dilemmas in a country where democratic standards are slipping rapidly. No journalism school or manual of ethical journalism prepares one for such a situation. Read the full column
Suat Kınıklıoğlu: Europa Europa
Turks who are putting up a brave fight confronting the authoritarianism in this country every day are simply aghast at the show put on in Brussels. Turkey’s democrats have been thoroughly exposed to the crude pragmatism of the EU. Read the full column
Doğu Ergil: Turkey, the humanitarian crisis and erratic responses
The numerical figures of the reality of Syrian refugees in Turkey are as follows: 2.2 million of the 4.3 million displaced Syrians who have been registered as persons of concern by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) currently reside in Turkey. There is an estimated 400,000 who have settled in various parts of Turkey relying on their own financial resources. The total number of Syrian refugees in Turkey is higher than the entire population of six of the EU’s 28 member states. Read the full column
One of China’s leading human rights lawyers and free speech campaigners, Pu Zhiqiang is known particularly for his way with words. “Whether in court or online, he is adept at mixing classical erudition and street vernacular,” said Chinese scholar and a friend of Pu’s Perry Link. “Twitter was made for him, but Twitter is banned in China.”
Since May 2014 Pu’s voice has been silenced, after he was arrested and charged for a series of blog posts. His trial drew huge international attention with many observers calling it a litmus test for freedom of speech in China. He was released in December 2015 to house arrest, and has made no public comment since.
Index asked three of Pu’s friends to tell his story for him.
“He was born on 11 January 1965 in Luanxian, near Tangshan, Hebei Province,” said Tong Yi, who has been a friend of Pu’s since meeting him in 1988. “His father was categorized as ‘landlord’. Therefore, when he grew up in his village, he was discriminated against because of his father. He experienced the devastating earthquake in Tangshan in July 1976.”
“Despite all the hardship he faced in those years, he grew up with an imposing physical build, as well as a standout student with a keen intellect and a photographic memory.”
As a student Pu became involved in the Tiananmen Students’ Movement. He was at Tiananmen Square in 1989, and witnessed the massacre of many of his friends and fellow campaigners. That was a turning point for him, says Link.
“He felt especially bad about the ordinary workers who protested and then died. They were not famous like some of the students and intellectuals, but were called ‘riffraff’ by the government, then slaughtered and forgotten. That experience has haunted Pu and, I believe, has been the anchor for his devotion to human rights law.”
This devotion saw him become a leading human rights lawyer in China, taking on controversial campaigns that earned him a “Robin Hood” reputation.
“Over the past decade, Pu has defended right to freedom of expression in a number of well-known cases,” Professor Hu Yong, China’s leading academic authority on the history of the Internet in China told Index.
His defendants include earthquake activist and writer Tan Zuoren, dissident writer Wang Tiancheng, fellow human rights lawyer Zheng Enchong, Tibetan environmentalist Karma Samdrop, banned writers such Chen Guidi, Chun Tao and Zhang Yihe, and artist Ai Weiwei.
“He also rescued a dozen of villagers facing harsh criminal charge for disclosing local corruption and criticizing officials, and defended a number of outspoken whistleblowing journalists and liberal media outlets against defamation charges,” said Hu Yong.
This work obviously earned him a place on China’s closely-watched list, but Pu knew the law so well he’d always managed to stay on the right side of it, said Link. That was until last year, when he was arrested after attending a small meeting about Tiananmen Square. Pu was later charged with “creating disturbances” and “inciting ethnic hatred” via seven comments posted on the microblogging platform Weibo between July 2011 and May 2014. The posts criticized the central government’s policies in Xinjiang and Tibet that repress minorities’ religious and ethnic identities.
Pu was detained for 19 months, with many prepared for his trial to result in an 8-year-sentence. On 22 December 2015 Pu was finally released, with an unexpected 3-year suspended sentence.
Xinhua, China’s official news agency, claimed Pu had been given “a light punishment…as he confessed his crime honestly, pleaded guilty and repented his guilt.”
“The government’s goal in persecuting Pu was to to quell freedom of speech on the internet,” said Link. “It was as if the government was saying, ‘Look, if we can take free speech away from the country’s leading advocate of free speech, then what can’t we do? EVERYBODY TAKE NOTE.’ It has worked, to some extent. But the story is not over.”
Hu Yong agrees that Pu’s arrest and sentence, even though less harsh than expected, marks a huge step backwards for freedom of speech in China. “Many people saw Pu’s case as a touchstone that would demonstrate whether the rule of law in China has been moving backward or progressing,” Hu Yong wrote for ChinaFile.
“In terms of levels of the government other than the judiciary, some thought that if Pu were to be convicted, it would serve as a weathervane indicating that China is returning to a ‘second Cultural Revolution.’ In fact, there is no need for a touchstone, and the weathervane has long been pointing in the same direction.”
As for Pu’s own future, Hu Yong believes he could lose his right to practice law. Whether his voice as the Robin Hood of China is lost forever is also still to be decided.
“What happens to Pu will depend mostly on how he decides to play his cards from now on,” said Link. “ If he accepts the government’s muzzle, the authorities will leave him alone. If he chooses to speak out again, they will try to re-imprison him or punish him in other ways.”
Bolo Bhi, which means “speak up” in Urdu, is a non-profit run by a powerful all-female team, fighting for internet access, digital security and privacy in Pakistan and around the world. Founded in 2012 by Sana Saleem and Farieha Aziz, they have since fought tirelessly to challenge Pakistan’s increasingly pervasive internet censorship.
“In the year 2012 the government were trying to bring in a national URL filtering firewall along the lines of China,” Farieha Aziz told Index.
“Then came the YouTube ban in September 2012. We lead a campaign against that and got commitments from businesses around the world not to bid for the tender the government of Pakistan had floated.”
The team have now launched countless internet freedom programmes, published research papers, fought for gender-rights, government transparency, executed successful campaigns and run digital security training sessions all over Pakistan.
“In Pakistan the internet is an unlegislated space, so a lot of our work involves discussions law and policy, and the shape they should be taking and the shape they should not be taking,” says Aziz.
Their biggest fight to date has been taking on the draconian Prevention of Electronic Crimes (PEC) Bill. The proposed legislation includes the criminalisation of political criticism and political expression in the form of analysis, commentary, blogs and cartoons, caricatures, memes; “obscene” or “immoral” messages on social media; posting of photographs of anyone on Facebook or Instagram without their permission; and sending an email or message without the recipient’s permission.
“We were able to get a leaked copy [of the bill] and we went public and we started forming an alliance,” said Aziz. “Our part was really to get people on board and collect people to collectively resist the bill in its current form.”
At every stage of the bill’s dramatic progression, Bolo Bhi been tirelessly campaigning against and shedding light on the legislation, which would have otherwise been quietly passed. They have created a timeline tracking cybercrime legislation with information on every development.
They also organised a series of press conferences, media events and campaigns to raise public awareness about the bill, as well as facilitating a series of consultations on the proposed cybercrime law with activists, lawyers and technology experts.
“Over a period of a year from advocating, trying to get the media to talk about it, we saw that a lot of people, even citizens, were very concerned about it. Across the board this concern resonated and nobody wanted the bill in the form it existed. We thought it would pass in a month, but it’s been almost a year and it’s been held off.”
Last year they also took down Pakistan’s Inter-Ministerial Committee for the Evaluation of Websites, filing a petition in the Islamabad High Court challenging the legality of committee, which is responsible for all official decisions taken to block online content in Pakistan. After a court ruling in March 2015, the IMCEW was disbanded – a win for Bolo Bhi, until the Pakistan Telecommunications Authority was given powers for content management on internet. Bolo Bhi continue to fight against the restrictions.
As well as shaping the debate around internet freedom in Pakistan, Bolo Bhi campaigns tirelessly for women’s rights.
“Gender is an integral part of what we do at Bolo Bhi. Recently we’ve tackled acid crimes, which are particularly perpetrated against women. We launched a social media campaign but we’ve also worked with women’s groups.”
Freedom of expression in Pakistan is a complicated phrase, Aziz says. But Bolo Bhi’s work ensures it is not one that is left unexamined.
Zaman’s censored writers
