08 Dec 23 | Israel, News and features, Palestine
“Any control imposed on art, regardless of the reasons behind it, is unacceptable to an artist,” Ai Weiwei told Index today. The Chinese artist was speaking to Index following the publication of an open letter by Artists for Palestine, which has been signed by more than 1,500 artists including Oscar-winning actor Olivia Colman, and which accuses art institutions in the West of “systematically repressing, silencing and stigmatising Palestinian voices and perspectives.” This claim raises serious concerns regarding the current climate of free speech within the art world.
Since the Hamas attack on Israel on 7 October, when around 1,200 Israelis were killed and more than 200 taken hostage, Israel’s retaliatory bombardment of Gaza has reportedly killed more than 21,000 Palestinians. Many artists who have spoken out against the violence have faced backlash. In their statement, Artists for Palestine condemned those aiming to silence Palestinian voices and called for a public demand for a permanent ceasefire by the arts and culture sector.
The scale of the issue is made clear in the letter, which cites no fewer than 18 separate examples of artists allegedly being censored as a result of expressing support or solidarity with Palestinians, or simply by being Palestinian themselves, in light of the ongoing conflict. One example in the letter was the cancellation of an exhibition by Ai Weiwei, which was due to open in November at the Lisson Gallery in London. The gallery called off the event due to a post made by Ai on social media in relation to the conflict, a decision that the artist described as “lacking in rationality and comprehensibility”.
The reasoning behind the exhibition’s cancellation is disputed by the Lisson Gallery. A spokesperson for the gallery told Index that the exhibition had just been postponed, and that it was the result of a social media post which “did not refer to the current tragic situation in the Middle East” and was done “in agreement with Ai Weiwei”.
However, this claim was rejected by Ai, who confirmed that no future date had been set for the exhibition to take place and suggested that he had no control over the decision. “I find the assertion that the postponement was “done in agreement” unreasonable. I have dedicated substantial effort to preparing for this exhibition, and there is no intention on my part to advocate for its postponement,” he said.
“Should the gallery express a desire to postpone, my only option is to acquiesce. In our collaboration, they represent the exhibition side, while I stand merely as the creator.”
Another example of censorship cited in the letter also occurred in the UK. Israeli-British historian Professor Avi Shlaim was scheduled to give a lecture titled Zionism and the Jews of Iraq: a personal perspective at Liverpool Hope University in October, only to be told a week prior to the event that it would not be going ahead. Shlaim argued that such a decision was contrary to the principles of academic freedom and claimed that it was the result of political pressure from those who disagreed with his views on Zionism and Israel.
Liverpool Hope defended their decision to Index, stating that the lecture was not cancelled, but postponed until later in the year. A spokesperson for the university also said: “Many of our community are acutely distressed about the current situation in the Middle East, Gaza and Israel, especially those that have family and friends living there. At the current time we are prioritising support for these groups.
“Freedom of speech is, and always will be, core to our values.”
However, Professor Shlaim was unhappy with this explanation. He told Index: “I reject the explanation of Liverpool Hope-less University. The issue was not safety but freedom of speech and they failed to uphold it in my case. Yes, they offered to postpone my lecture but I refused.”
Liverpool Hope UCU expressed their support for the lecturer in a letter to the university’s vice chancellor, calling the decision a “serious curtailing of academic freedom”. The British Committee for the Universities of Palestine also offered their support, warning that “Liverpool Hope’s decision is unfortunately not an isolated one.”
The letter also refers to Adania Shibli, a Palestinian author who was due to be awarded the LiBeraturpreis award at the Frankfurt Book Fair for her novel Minor Detail, a story in part about the abduction and rape of a Palestinian girl by Israeli soldiers. To the outrage of the literary community, the organiser of the award, Litprom, disinvited the author and called off the award ceremony soon after Hamas attacked Israel. Although they originally suggested it was a joint decision with the author, Litprom retracted this comment after being challenged by Shibli’s publisher.
In an interview with the Guardian, Shibli spoke of her belief that a review of her book which complained that “all Israelis are anonymous rapists and killers, while the Palestinians are victims of poisoned or trigger-happy occupiers” was instrumental in the decision to postpone her award, but insists that the ordeal was “a distraction from the real pain, not more.”
Litprom has stressed that they did not intend to silence or censor Shibli for her work or her views, and instead claim to have made the decision to cancel the award ceremony for her own protection and wellbeing given the highly charged atmosphere surrounding the conflict.
In a statement to Index, the organisers said: “Litprom’s decision was made with the aim of protecting this event and also the prize winner from the politically heated discussion in Germany, which is not accessible to literary discourse.
“Instead, the aim was to enable a worthy celebration of what the award’s jury and many other literary critics consider to be a literary work of very high quality.
“Awarding the prize to Adania Shibli was never in question.”
This example is just one of many included in the open letter to have taken place in Germany. Also cited by Artists for Palestine was the case of Oyoun, a Jewish cultural centre in Berlin which had its funding cut by the Berlin Senate, who told Index that they “certainly feel censored”.
“Oyoun has explicitly refuted the accusations made by the Senate regarding ‘hidden antisemitism’”, the centre said in a press release. “Oyoun explicitly opposes antisemitism and rejects any form of hostility towards people.”
On the 7 December, Oyoun filed a lawsuit against the Berlin Senate. They stated that they wished to “draw attention to this intimidation, the associated grievances, the arbitrariness of the Berlin Senate, and the disastrous signal that the closure of Oyoun would have on artistic and freedom of expression in Germany.”
Candice Breitz, a Jewish filmmaker and artist who had her exhibition on sex work activists at the Saarland Museum’s Modern Gallery in Germany cancelled after commenting on the conflict, recently suggested that the state is weaponising false charges of antisemitism in order to repress artists.
It is clear from these incidents that censorship within the art world is a sizeable issue right now, especially but not exclusively of pro-Palestine voices. Each day brings another example from around the world – just last week a number of artists announced plans to cut ties with the Art Canada Institute after accusations that Arab and Muslim artists were being suppressed by sensitivity reviews. The week before, GQ Middle East Man of the Year winner, Palestinian musician Saint Levant, was told not to mention the conflict in his acceptance speech. This mirrors previous accusations that the BBC censored such speeches at the Scottish BAFTA Awards to avoid mentions of a ceasefire. The list goes on and Israeli artists have also been censored, such as several whose pieces were removed from the 10th annual edition of the Mediations Biennale at Art Istanbul Feshane last month. The organisers cited fears of violence as the reason.
The pattern of artists being deplatformed or silenced for showing support for either side is extremely worrying. Artists who express their views within the confines of the law should not have to risk their livelihoods to do so. Although several of the noted examples suggest that many institutions aren’t necessarily against pro-Palestine content on an individual level, they are still curtailing free speech due to fears of the potential backlash to these views. Such fears are not unfounded within the current context of the rise of Islamophobia and antisemitism, but these fears do not excuse censorship of artistic expression or opinion.
08 Dec 23 | Iran, News and features, Opinion, Ruth's blog
Terrorism, pain, suffering, torture, blood and fear. These are the currencies the Iranian regime trades in. From their support for global terror groups to their development of weapons of mass destruction – this is a regime which seeks to be a force for ill in the world. But while others focus on their geo-political impact it is their treatment of their citizenry which most concerns Index, especially those dissidents whose bravery inspires us every day.
It is clear that the protection of citizens comes secondary to the Iranian authorities who prioritise holding onto power over all other matters.
The murder of Mahsa (Jina) Amini, who was just 22-years-old, following her arrest in Tehran for an alleged breach of the Islamic republic’s strict dress code, on 16 September 2022 saw a new phase in challenging the status quo. This was the spark that lit the fuse on the Iranians’ want for freedom with ongoing protests across the country.
In response to these protests, the regime in Iran has doubled down on their repression. Eight protesters have been executed for daring to participate in the protests. Iran is ruthlessly targeting anyone who dares to challenge one of the most tyrannical regimes in the world. In recent days we have seen their barbaric treatment of one of our Freedom of Expression Award winners, Toomaj Salehi, who has been re-arrested after detailing the horrendous torture he has received in prison.
We will write a great deal in the coming months about what is happening to Toomaj. Today though I want to highlight the experiences of the voiceless. As ever with such regimes it is the children and the vulnerable who suffer most. Those whose voices are easiest to silence.
We all would agree, I hope, that children should be given warmth, love and security as they grow up. It is the most basic of human rights. This is simply not the case in Iran.
Their repression knows no bounds and has culminated in their use of the death penalty on a child.
Hamidreza Azari, a 17-year-old, was executed by the Iranian government as part of their recent slew of capital punishments. Hamidreza allegedly killed a man during a fight when he was 16 years old. We have no details of the incident but what we do know is that he is not in prison. He is now in a grave; murdered by the state, along with Milad Zohrevand, a dissident.
This act is against international law. Juveniles cannot be subject to capital punishment. Iran knows this only too well – which is why they lied about Hamidreza’s age in the official reports.
In the United Kingdom protesting does not come with the fear of death. It’s vitally important that people like me and you use our freedom to extol those of others. If we fail to stand up for the voiceless, then the estimated 582 people who have perished at the hands of the Iranian government since 2022 will continue to grow.
Tyrants win where silence prevails.
08 Dec 23 | News and features, Rwanda
After the infamous “go home” vans, the Windrush scandal and a (failed) policy to push back people crossing the channel on boats, this week the UK government sharpened its latest tool in its hostile environment box: the Rwanda plan. UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak threw a surprise press conference about the government’s Rwanda policy, now freshly emboldened with a new treaty following the Supreme Court’s declaration that Rwanda is not a safe country for UK asylum seekers. The prime minister said he would “finish the job” of getting his controversial deportation plan off the ground.
Questions from journalists to Sunak centred largely around what a vote on new legislation means for the state of the Conservative Party and Sunak’s position as leader. There are free speech implications here too and so I’d like to add a few questions to the list: how does the Rwanda plan impact people at risk? How will the UK keep safe persecuted people? And how will we make sure that people who have a legal right to seek asylum have a voice?
Of the latter, last summer, the BBC aired Sir Mo Farah’s documentary on his experience of being trafficked to the UK from Somaliland as a child, and how he was forced to work as a domestic servant. He was told, “If you ever want to see your family again, don’t say anything. If you say anything, they will take you away.”
His real name is Hussein Abdi Kahin. He was eventually helped in his claim for British citizenship through what was technically fraudulent means and, until the documentary aired, he had remained silent about his true identity, about what he had experienced as a child and really about everything that had weighed on his mind. He feared speaking up and so he stayed silent.
As a much-loved public figure, perhaps Farah knew he would have some modicum of protection if he revealed the truth, which it turns out he did. For others who are victims of trafficking, asking for help can be another story. The only option of escaping exploitation might be going to the authorities and seeking asylum, but this is not the most appealing, or even easy, route. Aberystwyth University’s Gillian McFayden described the Home Office’s “culture of disbelief” in 2018, and how in interviews “inconsistencies will be held against the asylum seeker and they will then be viewed as lacking in credibility.” Trauma is difficult to recount in a consistent way – and this is effectively used against people.
When I last visited Calais and spoke to people planning to cross to the UK (and where they frequently reported violence from French police), there was also a severe lack of clear information about what life in the UK would be like and how the system works. Rumours abounded, amid patchy access to data and language barriers. With a landscape ripe for misinformation and policies that are already unclear amongst the UK public, the confusion that comes from a complicated and hostile environment only leaves people making the journey to the UK more susceptible to exploitation.
Then there is Rwanda itself, hardly known for its robust human rights record. Sile Reynolds, head of asylum advocacy at Freedom from Torture, told me today: “We know from our own clients – survivors of torture who’ve fled the most unimaginable horrors and encountered further trauma on their journeys to find safety – the awful toll that this policy has taken on them. Clinicians have reported that some of our clients are so terrified of being shipped off thousands of miles away to Rwanda that they’d contemplate committing suicide if they were ever served with a removal notice. The stakes really could not be any higher.”
On Rwanda, let’s pause for a moment on its rights record. There is widespread evidence of the abuse of LGBTQ+ people, as just one example. Grassroots asylum support charity African Rainbow Family launched a petition earlier this year to stop the deportation of LGBTQ+ people to the country. On a poster for their No Pride in Deportation campaign, they wrote, “One of our service users was just granted her freedom by the Home Office. She was forced to flee her home in Rwanda due to the persecution she faced as an LGBTIQ+ person. Even the Home Office recognises that Rwanda is unsafe for LGBTIQ+ people.”
They said of LGBTQ+ people: “Deporting them back to these hostile environments can risk condemning them to continued suffering, exile, physical harm, emotional trauma, abuse, isolation, torture and death.”
On the UK government’s own foreign travel advice page for Rwanda it says: “LGBT individuals can experience discrimination and abuse, including from local authorities.” Should we be sending people to a country where they can’t freely express their identity, where doing so could even lead to death?
With the strengthening of the hostile environment comes the lack of something else: safe routes. It’s not just people already in the UK being impacted by this asylum policy, but persecuted people looking to the UK for help. Take the Afghan journalists we work with who fled to Pakistan only to find more danger awaiting them, and little opportunity to earn a living. Some told us they had considered selling a kidney to afford food, which, horrifyingly, others have indeed done. And after Pakistan forced Afghan refugees to leave at the beginning of November, the situation may have become even more dangerous. Women in Afghanistan have no voice. There is no room for dissent or criticism.
Thankfully, some of the Afghan journalists we work with have found sanctuary in France, after the UK failed to make good on promises of refuge. There are still many more Afghans at risk who should be offered safety in the UK, but instead the focus is on deterrents over safe routes and compassion.
Reynolds accused the government of the “demonisation and scapegoating of refugees” and called policies like the Rwanda scheme and Bibby Stockholm “performative cruelty.” For people seeking refuge in this environment, fear breeds silence. For persecuted people who are still looking for safe routes, there are few options left but more danger.
07 Dec 23 | Chile, News and features, United States
It is oddly appropriate that Henry Kissinger should have died in the year that commemorates the 50th anniversary of the 1973 military coup in Chile — the cataclysmic overthrow of its democratically elected president, Salvador Allende, and the end of a fleeting attempt to create a socialist society without resorting to violence, a first in the history of revolutions.
As national security advisor to President Nixon, Kissinger ferociously opposed Allende and destabilized the Chilean government by every means possible. He considered that, were Chile’s peaceful movement for social and economic justice to succeed, American hegemony would suffer. He feared that the example might spread and affect the world balance of power.
And Kissinger not only fostered the ousting of a democratically elected foreign leader, he subsequently supported the murderous regime of General Augusto Pinochet, even as the dictatorship was massively violating the human rights of Chile’s citizens, most egregiously in the cruel and terrifying practice of “disappearing” opponents.
It is these desaparecidos whom I think about now, as Kissinger is feted by a shameless bipartisan Washington elite. All these years after the coup in Chile, 1,162 men and women are still unaccounted for. The contrast is telling and significant: Kissinger will have a memorable, almost regal, funeral, while the victims of his policies have yet to find a small place on Earth where they can be buried.
If my first thoughts, when I heard the news about Kissinger’s death, were filled with memories of my missing Chilean compatriots — several of them had been dear friends — soon enough a flood of other casualties came to mind: the countless dead, wounded and disappeared in Vietnam and Cambodia, in East Timor and Cyprus, Uruguay and Argentina. The Kurds Kissinger betrayed; the apartheid regime in South Africa he bolstered; the Bangladeshi dead he belittled.
I always dreamed that a day would come when Kissinger would stand in a court of law and answer for his crimes.
It almost happened. In May 2001, Kissinger was sojourning at the Ritz Hotel in Paris when he was summoned to appear before French Judge Roger Le Loire as a witness in the case of five French nationals who had been disappeared during the Pinochet dictatorship. Rather than take that occasion to explain himself and vindicate his reputation, Kissinger immediately fled France.
Nor was Paris the only city in which he was pursued. Spanish Judge Baltazar Garzón unsuccessfully requested that Interpol detain the former U.S. secretary of State to answer questions in the ongoing trial of Pinochet for human rights violations (the general was arrested in London but finally remanded to Chile, where he died, never convicted, in 2006).
Nor did Kissinger deign to respond to Argentine Judge Rodolfo Corral about the infamous and lethal U.S.-backed Operation Condor in Latin America, or to Chilean Judge Juan Guzmán about the murder of American citizen Charles Horman in the days just after the coup (a case that inspired the Costa Gavras film “Missing”).
And yet I nursed the impossible dream: Kissinger in the dock. Kissinger held accountable for so much suffering. A dream that vanished with his death.
The more reason for that trial to happen in the court of public opinion. The disappeared of Chile, the forgotten dead of all those nations Kissinger devastated with his “realpolitik,” are crying out for justice.
I do not wish that Kissinger may rest in peace. I hope, on the contrary, that the ghosts of those multitudes he damaged beyond repair will trouble his memory and haunt his history.
Whether that happens depends, of course, on us, the living, on the willingness of humanity, amid the din and deluge of praise and eulogies, to listen to the hushed, receding voices of Kissinger’s victims and vow never to forget.
This article was originally published by the LA Times and republished here with permission
