17 Jan 2025 | Asia and Pacific, News and features, Vietnam, Volume 53.04 Winter 2024
This article first appeared in Volume 53, Issue 4 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled Unsung Heroes: How musicians are raising their voices against oppression. Read more about the issue here. The issue was published on 12 December 2024.
Hoàng Minh Tường has published 17 novels. Seven of these have been banned from re-publication or circulation in Vietnam and two had to be published overseas due to political sensitivities. But the Hanoi-based writer remains upbeat.
“I have been blessed by the heavenly gods,” said the 76-year-old, who used to work as a teacher and journalist. “Many times, I was afraid that I might be imprisoned. Yet I still remain alive.”
The award-winning novelist is currently seeking help to have his best- known novel Thời của Thánh Thần (The Time of the Gods) translated into English. On release in 2008, it was widely regarded as a literary phenomenon yet was immediately recalled and has been banned ever since.
Hoàng, and many other writers I spoke to for this article, agreed that censorship is accepted as part of living and working in Vietnam, where the Communist Party monopolises the publishing industry. The 2012 Publishing Law emphasises the need to “fight against all thoughts and behaviour detrimental to the national interests and contribute to the construction and defence of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam”.
But censorship of fiction is just one part of the country’s free expression quandary. Reporters Without Borders has long categorised Vietnam as being among the worst countries for freedom of the press. The Ministry of Information and Communications (MIC) is the government agency responsible for state management of press, publishing and printing activities. Writers have to regularly negotiate with censors – and then creatively rise above them or patiently wait for the individuals or agencies in charge to change their minds.
Living with censorship
Hoàng, a Communist Party member, said that The Time of the Gods, written between 2005 and 2008, was a turning point in his literary career, which has spanned three decades.
“After finishing writing the book in 2008, my biggest concern was how to get it published,” he said. “I gave it to three influential friends in three publishing houses, all of whom rejected it because if they published it they would be sent to jail.”
In his banned novel, the characters are multi-faceted. Four brothers navigate different sides of armed conflicts, align with various factions and transcend the simplistic “us versus the enemy” narrative often depicted by the Communist Party.
They endure many of the hidden, historical tribulations of Vietnam – from the Maoist land reform in the 1950s, which seized agricultural land and property owned by landlords for redistribution, to the fall of Saigon in 1975, which ended the Vietnam War and resulted in a mass exodus to escape the victorious communist regime.
“The story of a family is not just the story of a single family but the story of the times, the story of the nation, the story of the two communist and capitalist factions, of the North and South regions of Vietnam and the United States,” said Hoàng. “Perhaps that is why, for the past 15 years, tens of thousands of illegal copies of the book have been printed and people still seek it out to read.”
The ban has created fertile ground for black market circulation, he said, with online and offline pirated copies often full of mistakes. There have never been any official government documents justifying the book ban, nor has there been any explanation for the sensitivities surrounding his works. He asserted that this lack of transparency and accountability was a common occurrence for novelists. “Most of the bans [on my books] were purely by word of mouth,” he said.
For years, Hoàng has communicated with editors at the state-owned Writers’ Association Publishing House (which originally published the book), but to no avail. However, the novel has made its way to global audiences, being translated into Korean, French, Japanese and Mandarin Chinese.
His 2014 novel Nguyên khí (Vitality) was originally rejected for publication, and again reasons were not disclosed. The story, revolving around Nguyễn Trãi – a 15th century historical figure who was a loyal and skilled official falsely accused of killing an emperor – symbolises the still strained relationship between single-party rule and patriotic intellectuals. In response, Hoàng revised the narrative of the novel by getting rid of a character – a security agent doubling as a censor and eavesdropper. He retitled the work to The Tragedy of a Great Character, a rebranding that managed to pass through pre-print censorship. Subsequently, in 2019, the book was published and sold out. However, its previous ban was soon recognised, so it didn’t secure a permit for republication.
Learning from history
In his 2022 article Banishing the Poets: Reflections on Free Speech and Literary Censorship in Vietnam, Richard Quang Anh Trần, assistant professor of Southeast Asian studies at Ca’ Foscari University of Venice, concluded that the literary landscape in Vietnam was “as limited as political speech itself”.
“The boundaries of permissible speech, moreover, are ever changing that one may find oneself caught in the crosshairs and on the wrong side at any given moment,” he wrote.
Trần identified two turning points when writers were fooled into believing that the Communist Party had allowed them to challenge the established literary norms of serving the party. The first occurred in the 1950s, during a cultural-political movement in Hanoi, called the Nhân Văn-Giai Phẩm Affair. A group of party-loyal writers and intellectuals launched two journals, Nhân Văn (Humanity) and Giai Phẩm (Masterpieces). They sought to convince the party of the need for greater artistic and intellectual freedom. Despite their distinguished service to the state, they were condemned in state media and their publications were banned.
The second case came in the late 1980s and early 1990s during Doi Moi (the Renovation Period), a series of economic and political reforms which started in 1986. Vietnam’s market liberalisation breathed new life into war-centric literature, and many writers crafted brilliant post-war novels that challenged prevailing narratives – but their works were censored. This was done through limiting the number of approved copies, recalling and confiscating books from libraries and bookshops, and destroying original drafts.
Censorship was at its worst when the party decided to burn the books of those it regarded as its enemies. Following the fall of Saigon on 30 April 1975, it embarked on a campaign to eliminate what it classified as decadent and reactionary culture, including many books and magazines published in the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam).
“South Vietnamese publications were the main target, plus much of popular music, movies and the fine arts,” said Dr Tuấn Hoàng, associate professor of great books at Pepperdine University’s Seaver College in California. “Government workers entered businesses and private residences suspected of having such materials and took away what they could find.”
“Those materials were burned or recycled at factories,” he said. “Citizens were urged to give up banned materials to the government, or to destroy them themselves. A lot of materials were therefore destroyed in the first few years after the war.”
But some materials were hidden, circulated clandestinely or sold on the black market. Phạm Thị Hoài is one of the most celebrated writers of the post- Renovation Period, whose debut novel The Crystal Messenger was a success both at home and abroad. The first edition (1988) and second edition (1995) were published by the Writers’ Association Publishing House, bar a few censored paragraphs, according to Phạm. But it was later banned by the government.
After leaving Vietnam for Germany, in 2001 she established Talawas, an online forum dedicated to reviving literary works by Vietnamese writers. She says she has been banned from travelling back to her home country since 2004, a fact she attributes to Talawas and her literary works, which have been ambiguously deemed to be “sensitive”. Her books have not been permitted to be republished in Vietnam.
“A few years ago, a friend in the publishing industry also tried to inquire about reprinting a collection of my short stories, which were entirely about love, but no publishing house accepted it,” she said.
In 2018, the government introduced a new cybersecurity law, which has made censorship worse. Critical voices that challenge the state’s version of history online are deemed to be hostile forces that are seeking to discredit the party’s revolutionary achievements.
Appreciate, don’t criticise
Censorship also makes its way into education as, in Vietnam, literature is first and foremost intended to inculcate party- defined patriotism into young minds.
According to Dr Ngọc, a high-school literature teacher in Hanoi, Vietnamese authors who are featured in school textbooks normally have very “red” (communist) backgrounds or hold party leadership positions. She added that the higher an author’s position in government, the more focus is given to their work in textbooks. “Many great writers were unfortunately not selected for the literature textbooks,” she said.
Ngọc provides tutoring for high- school students to help them prepare for their national entrance exams. These exams mostly focus on wartime hardship and heroism. Students’ responses need to show that they revere communist leaders and revile invaders. But this teaching method is not best placed to help them appreciate literature.
But ill-fated books still find their way to readers, often through the black market. Phương (not her real name) has been selling books in Hanoi for the past two decades. She says that every now and then people still look for banned books, which she collects and sells. However, these are reserved only for her closest customers.
“I would not sell sensitive books to a random buyer,” she said. “They might be disguised security agents trying to recall the book from the market.”
10 Jan 2025 | News and features, United States
Mark Zuckerberg’s announcement this week of changes to Meta’s content moderation policies appeared to primarily be about building trust. Trust among users. Trust among investors. And trust among the incoming Trump administration. “It’s time to get back to our roots around free expression,” Zuckerberg said in his announcement.
While we applaud anything that is generally trying to embolden free expression, will these moves actually do that? We break it down –
Fact-checking
In the USA, Meta is abandoning the use of independent fact checkers on its platforms (Facebook, Instagram and Threads) and replacing them with X-style “community notes”, where commenting on the accuracy or veracity of posts is left to users. But fact checks by dedicated fact-checking organisations do not work against free expression. As a rule they do not remove, override or stifle existing content. Instead they challenge it and contextualise it. As tech expert Mike Masnick wrote after the announcement: “Fact-checking is the epitome of “more speech”— exactly what the marketplace of ideas demands. By caving to those who want to silence fact-checkers, Meta is revealing how hollow its free speech rhetoric really is.”
On the flipside, as Masnick also points out, professional fact checkers are not always effective. The “people who wanted to believe false things weren’t being convinced by a fact check (and, indeed, started to falsely claim that fact checkers themselves were ‘biased’),” he writes. The notion of “bias” was referenced by Zuckerberg himself, who accused fact-checkers of this.
No fact-checker should be biased, although this is difficult to control. Many fact-checkers have taken issue with Zuckerberg’s assertion that they could be biased. Full Fact, who are part of Meta’s fact-checking programme, said that they “absolutely refute Meta’s charge of bias – we are strictly impartial, fact check claims from all political stripes with equal rigour, and hold those in power to account through our commitment to truth.”
While the set-up that existed until now has been imperfect, are proposed community notes any better? This is complicated. and there is little evidence to suggest they work to the extent that Zuckerberg claims. Community notes tend to be effective for issues on which there is consensus, because there must be agreement before a note can be added to a post. This means that misleading posts on politically divisive subjects often go unchecked, while some accurate posts can be flagged as untrue if enough people determine it that way. According to MediaWise, a media literacy programme at the Poynter Institute, only about 4% of drafted community notes about abortion and 6% of those on immigration were made public on X.
There is also a big difference between those who are paid (and qualified) to fact-check versus non-professionals and this can be evident in the very logistics. According to X, “in the first few days of the Israel-Hamas conflict, notes appeared at a median time of just five hours after posts were created.” In the online world, where a post can go viral within minutes, hours is a long time, arguably too long.
Content moderation
In addition to getting rid of dedicated fact-checkers, Meta is dialling back its content moderation teams and reducing reliance on filters. The move away from automated content moderation processes is to be welcomed. Due to the complexity of speech and online content sharing – with languages and communities evolving slang, colloquialisms and specific terminology – and the ambiguity over imagery, automated processes do not retain the contextual details or complexity necessary to make consistent and informed decisions.
Mis- and disinformation are problematic standards for content removal too. For instance, satire is commonly presented as fact when obviously false and this a central tenet of protected speech across the globe. Simply removing all posts that are deemed to contain misinformation is not and has not worked.
What is more, censoring misinformation does not address the root cause; removing fake news only temporarily silences those that spread it. It doesn’t demonstrate why the information they are spreading is inaccurate. It may even end up giving conspiracy theorists more reason to believe in their theories by feeling that they are being denied access to information. It can end up undermining trust.
Content moderation isn’t just about removing perceived or real misinformation. It is also about removing posts that propagate hate and/or incite violence. Like with misinformation these have to date been imperfectly applied – sweeping up legal speech and missing illegal speech. Algorithms are ultimately imperfect. They miss nuance and this has had a negative impact on speech across Meta platforms.
It is right for Meta to review these policies as they have too often, to date, failed the free speech test.
Still, in scaling filters back – rather than addressing how to improve them – it does run the risk of allowing a lot more bad content in. Zuckerberg, by his own admission, says that the newly introduced measures are “a “trade-off”. “It means we’re going to catch less bad stuff, but we’ll also reduce the number of innocent people’s posts and accounts that we accidentally take down.”
The flipside of catching “less bad stuff” can be, ironically, less free speech. Harassment can drive people to silence themselves or leave online spaces entirely. This form of censorship (self-censorship) is insidious and cannot be easily measured. Unchecked it can also lead to some of the gravest attacks onto human rights. In 2022 Amnesty issued a report looking into Meta’s role in the Rohingya genocide. It detailed “how Meta knew or should have known that Facebook’s algorithmic systems were supercharging the spread of harmful anti-Rohingya content in Myanmar, but the company still failed to act”.
Following Zuckerberg’s announcement, Helle Thorning-Schmidt, from Meta’s oversight board, said: “We are seeing many instances where hate speech can lead to real-life harm.” She raised concerns about the potential impact on the LGBTQ+ community as just one community.
Another damning response came from Maria Ressa, Rappler CEO and Nobel Peace Prize winner:
“Journalists have a set of standards and ethics. What Facebook is going to do is get rid of that and then allow lies, anger, fear and hate to infect every single person on the platform.”
Finally, Zuckerberg said the remaining content moderation teams will be moved from California to Texas where, he said, “there is less concern about the bias of our teams”. As pointed out by many, including the Electronic Frontier Foundation, there is no evidence that Texas is less biased than California. Due to the political leadership of Texas and the positioning of this state and the perception that it is more closely allied with the incoming administration, there are real concerns that this is replacing one set of perceived biases with another. Instead, a free-speech first approach would be to address what biases exist and how current teams can overcome them, irrespective of geographical location. Establishing a process based on international human rights and free expression standards would be a step in the right direction.
Hateful conduct policy
In Zuckerberg’s announcement he stated “we’re going to simplify our content policies and get rid of a bunch of restrictions on topics like immigration and gender that are just out of touch with mainstream discourse. What started as a movement to be more inclusive has increasingly been used to shut down opinions and shut out people with different ideas, and it’s gone too far.”
Simplifying the policies can increase their efficacy, with users clearer as to the standards employed on the platforms. However, suggesting that policies must move with “mainstream discourse” is a challenging threshold to maintain and could embed uncertainty into how Meta responds to the ever-changing and complex speech environment. Identifying topics such as immigration and gender threatens to define such thresholds by the contentious topics of the day and not objective standards or principles for free expression.
It could also open the floodgates to a lot of genuine hate speech and incitement, which will be incredibly damaging for many individuals and communities – in general and in terms of free speech.
Foreign interference
In Zuckerberg’s speech he took issue with foreign interference. Platforms and governments have often collided over their interpretations of what is acceptable content and who has the power to decide. Ideally we’d have standardised community guidelines and rules of moderation in line with international human rights law. In practise this is not the case. Except instead of highlighting countries where the human rights record is woeful and content removal requests have been clearly politically motivated, Zuckerberg cited Latin America and Europe here. Article19 said they were “puzzled by Mark Zuckerberg’s assertion that Europe has enacted an ‘ever-increasing number of laws institutionalizing censorship’” and that it showed “misunderstanding”.
Parking a discussion of EU laws, it was certainly disappointing for the reasons stated above. As reported by the Carnegie Center in 2024: “In illiberal and/or autocratic contexts, from Türkiye to Vietnam, governments have exploited the international debate over platform regulation to coerce tech companies to censor—rather than moderate—content.” That is where we need to be having a conversation.
Countries such as India have demonstrated processes by which political pressure can be exerted over content moderation decisions undertaken by social media platforms. According to the Washington Post, the Indian government has expanded its pressure on X: “Where officials had once asked for a handful of tweets to be removed at each meeting, they now insisted that entire accounts be taken down, and numbers were running in the hundreds. Executives who refused the government’s demands could now be jailed, their companies expelled from the Indian market.” Further in the piece, it states: “Records published by the Indian Parliament show that annual takedown requests for posts and accounts increased from 471 to 6,775 between 2014 and 2022, with those to Twitter soaring from 224 in 2018 to 3,417 in 2022.”
Zuckerberg’s announcement was silent on how Meta would respond to or resist such explicit state censorship in countries with weak and eroding democratic norms and standards.
Final thoughts
For now Meta says it has “no immediate plans” to get rid of its third-party fact checkers in the UK or the EU, nor could it necessarily do so because of the legal landscape. Some countries also have outright bans on Meta’s platforms, like China. So this is a story that will play out primarily in the USA.
Still, it is part of a broader pattern of Silicon Valley executives misusing the label “free speech” and the timing of it suggests the motivation is for political gain. Even incoming president Donald Trump acknowledged that this week. The shift towards kowtowing to one party and one person, which we have seen occur on other platforms, is incredibly worrying. As Emily Maitlis said on the News Agents this week when evaluating the announcement: “There is a king on the top here and there are courtiers and they recognise that their position is in terms of how they respond to the king now”.
Whether the platforms are used for sharing pictures of your family or galvanising support for a campaign, we know the powerful and central role social media plays in our lives. Furthermore, according to a 2022 OECD report, around four out of 10 respondents said they did not trust the news media, and more and more people were turning to social media for their news, especially young people. As a result it’s essential that social media lands in a helpful place. Content moderation policies at scale are incredibly difficult and cumbersome. They are impossible to do perfectly and easy to do badly. Still, we have little faith that these changes will be helpful and concerns that they could be hurtful.
We will continue to monitor the situation closely. In the meantime, please do support organisations like Index who are genuinely dedicated to the fight against censorship and the fight for free expression.
8 Jan 2025 | Middle East and North Africa, News and features, Syria
For more than five decades, Syria has lived under a repressive regime that has made freedom of expression a distant dream. Under Bashar al-Assad, expression was curtailed by repressive laws and strict censorship, while the security services were used as a tool to silence dissenting voices. With the Syrian revolution in 2011, a new age of free expression seemed to be emerging, but it quickly collided with security, political, and social challenges. Now that the Assad regime has been overthrown, what does this mean for the future of free expression in the country?
Freedom of expression under Assad
There were many forces at play within Assad’s regime that were used to silence those critical of the government and stop dissent.
The first were repressive laws. Throughout the decades of the Assad family’s rule, laws were designed to serve the security services and ensure the political domination of society.
The emergency law, which remained in place from 1963 to 2011, gave the security services unlimited powers to prosecute dissidents and protesters and restrict freedoms. Assad lifted the law following Syria’s Arab Spring protests, though opposition politicians called this move “useless” without reform of the legal system and accountability for security services. The 2001 Publications Law, which tightly censored the press, banned the emergence of any independent media voices. This was later repealed and replaced with a Media Law in 2011, but this still placed restrictions on journalists, including that freedom of expression should be “exercised responsibly and with consideration”. More recently, the cybercrime law in 2022 was used to silence dissenting voices online, and has made public criticism of the regime a crime punishable by imprisonment.
In this context, writer, dissident and former political detainee Fayez Sarah told Index: “The policies of the Assad regime pushed me and many activists to confront [them], as muzzling voices and preventing political and civil activities motivated me to engage in political and social work.” Sarah said he had been arrested several times simply for participating in opposition political activities.
The second tool used was that of the “official” media, which became the regime’s only voice. The official media was focused on perpetuating the public image of Assad’s regime, and presenting his version of events without space for other opinions. All mass media TV channels and newspapers were under direct control of the state, which ensured the promotion of the regime’s ideology and the obscuration of truth.
Journalist and writer Ali Safar recalled that while working for a state media organisation, creativity was rejected, and security reports suppressed any attempt to deviate from the official line.
The third oppressive weapon was direct repression against activists and journalists. Syria is one of the most dangerous countries for journalists, having witnessed unprecedented levels of violence towards media workers over the past few years. According to Reporters Without Borders, Syria has lagged behind in the Global Press Freedom Index, consistently ranking amongst the 10 worst countries since the outbreak of the Syrian revolution in 2011.
Under the Assad regime, journalists were subjected to arbitrary arrests, torture, and enforced disappearances. In areas of armed opposition, despite there being space for independent media, journalists have also been threatened and kidnapped by some factions who saw media coverage as a threat to their interests.
As journalist Sakhr Idris told Index: “Even in liberated areas, journalists faced challenges such as the intervention of military factions and pressure from funders or local communities.”
At least 300 journalists were killed whilst covering the civil war, whilst others lived in exile or under constant threat. Thousands of people have been threatened, arrested and forcibly disappeared. Muhannad Omar has been forcibly disappeared since 2012. His fate is currently unknown but there are fears that he was tortured and killed in detention in prison.
The Impact of the Syrian revolution on freedom of expression
With the outbreak of the Syrian revolution, social media platforms began to play a crucial role in breaking the regime’s monopoly on the media.
Activists have used platforms such as Facebook and Twitter to convey the truth to the world, and expose the regime’s abuses.
Citizen media began to emerge as an alternative to official media, with on-the-ground journalists relying on simple technology to circulate coverage of demonstrations and violations.
But despite a promising start, freedom of expression has faced numerous challenges as the conflict morphed into an all-out war. The regime’s repression continued in new forms, including through digital smear campaigns and intensive surveillance.
In areas outside of the regime’s control, armed factions also began to impose their own visions, limiting press freedom.
The takeover of the Syrian State Television building
After the fall of the Syrian regime on 8 December, concerns emerged about the future of the official media as new forces started to dominate the media landscape. One such case was the takeover of the Syrian State Television building in Damascus, raising widespread concern that the official media could turn from a tool to serve the regime into a platform that promotes the vision of dominant rebel groups.
For example, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), the group which led the deposition of Assad, is known for its directed political and religious rhetoric, and may use state television to spread its ideology and strengthen its influence over public opinion in Syria.
The move also raises questions about the fate of free and pluralistic media in a post-Assad Syria, especially with the country’s record of restricting press freedom, suppressing independent journalists, and directing the media to serve its political and religious goals.
There is also a risk that media domination will be used to expand repression, leaving Syria stuck in the cycle of media tyranny under different names and parties.
These concerns highlight the greater challenge of ensuring the independence of the official media in this transitional period and putting in place laws to protect it from political or ideological influences that may divert it from its true role as a platform for all Syrians.
Future challenges to freedom of expression after Assad
One major obstacle is the absence of an existing legal and constitutional framework to protect free expression.
Ali Safar, a Syrian writer and executive producer of Radio Sout Raya, a Syrian radio station based in Istanbul, believes that “the only guarantee of freedom of expression is a sophisticated and dynamic media law that revitalises public space”.
Another challenge is existing societal conflict; the war has left deep sectarian divisions that have affected public debate and discourse.
According to Sheikh Riad Drar al-Hamood, a Syrian opposition political activist, writer and human rights activist, the traditional religious community has not helped to build an environment that respects pluralism, but rather has supported authoritarianism under the umbrella of traditional law.
However, he says the role of religious groups will be significant in future, and forward-thinking individuals within them can “form an incubator for the new society”. “The enlightened voices among the clergy can be leaders of social liberation, but unfortunately they are few,” he said. For instance, Sheikh Muhammad Rateb al-Nabulsi and the late Sheikh Jawdat Saeed were supporters of moderate thought in Syria, and called for change by peaceful means. Their influence combined to promote the values of dialogue and tolerance, which made them distinguished voices in the face of tyranny and extremism.
International actors will also have a key role to play in establishing a pluralistic media. Supporting Syria’s democratic transition depends heavily on international support, which is conditional on political reforms. A transition is needed that draws on the experiences of other countries to avoid media and political chaos.
The role of civil society organisations and activists within Syria will also be crucial. Civil society is a key hope for building a free space. According to Fayez Sarah, political and civil activism has contributed to changing the relationship between Syrians and the regime, as they have become more emboldened in expressing their opinions.
But challenges remain significant, including security threats and the stress of living under threat of prosecution.
Comparing Syria with other global experiences
The state of free expression in Syria can be compared to the experiences of other countries such as Iran and Chechnya, where societies have faced similar pressures around the suppression of dissenting voices and the use of religious or national authority to tighten control.
Even before Iran’s 1979 revolution, freedom of expression was limited under the regime of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, where the press and civil society were censored, and the SAVAK (the Bureau for Intelligence and Security of the State) was used to muzzle voices. While Iranians dreamed of the right to free expression after the revolution, repression has shifted in character from political to ideological.
The new Islamic regime imposed tight control on the media, as obedience to Wali al-Faqih – a doctrine that means the transfer of political and religious authority over to the Shia clergy – became a criterion for the legitimacy of media and intellectual discourse.
Although dissenting voices have emerged from within the religious establishment – such as Ayatollah Hussein-Ali Montazeri – they have been marginalised and suppressed, which is consistent with Sheikh al-Hamood’s assertion that enlightened voices in religious communities often have little impact.
Similarly to Syria, in Iran religion or nationality has been used officially to justify restricting freedoms and turning the media into a tool for official propaganda.
In Chechnya, freedom of expression has been heavily affected by armed conflicts and wars between the Russian government and separatist movements.
During the First (1994-1996) and Second (1999-2009) Chechen Wars, independent journalism was virtually wiped out. Russian authorities and local groups have used the media as a propaganda weapon against the opposition, reminiscent of the Syrian regime’s control over the media during and after the revolution.
In the post-conflict era, freedom of expression remained limited under the head of the Chechen Republic, Ramzan Kadyrov. Independent journalists were imprisoned and political activity was suppressed. As in Syria, armed conflicts have weakened the free media and have led to the authorities’ exploitation of nationalism and religion to justify repression.
In Iran, Chechnya and Syria, freedom of expression has been affected by volatile political phases and armed conflicts. Free expression was the first casualty of repressive regimes that used religion or nationalism as a pretext for control.
Global experiences continue to offer useful lessons for Syria in the future, as they can be leveraged to build a free media system that respects pluralism and promotes national reconciliation.
Looking to the future
The journey of freedom of expression in Syria is a reflection of the stages that the country has gone through politically and socially, from systematic repression under Assad, to limited openness during the revolution, to successive setbacks as the conflict escalated. There are many challenges to building an environment that incubates free expression post-Assad, from the need for a constitution that protects the right to confront sectarian discourse, to rebuilding trust between the media and society. But despite this, there is still hope that Syria could become a model for free expression within the region.
This article was translated and edited from Arabic by Hussein Maamo.
6 Jan 2025 | Europe and Central Asia, France
This week, 7 January 2025 marks exactly ten years since the Charlie Hebdo attacks, when Islamist gunmen stormed the satirical magazine’s Paris editorial office and killed 11 people over cartoons of the Prophet Muhammed. A month after the attack, the Turkish writer Elif Shafak wrote for us on the increasingly divisive world in which we live, and the urgent need to differentiate between the right to be offended and the right to commit violence. Ten years on, with the proliferation of fractious rhetoric on social media, her words seem more poignant than ever. To mark the anniversary of the tragedy, we have republished Shafak’s piece below. It was originally published online on 12 March 2015, and in print in Volume 44, Issue 1 of Index on Censorship. Charlie Hebdo has also produced a special edition to mark ten years, which you can read more about here.
After the horrific attacks against the French satirical journal Charlie Hebdo and a Jewish supermarket in Paris, the world has turned into a Tower of Babel where there are too many languages spoken but too little, if any, real communication. Ever since those three days of terror in France, across the globe there has been more anger than sorrow, more emotional backlash than rational analysis, and more confusion than insight.
As heartwarming as it was to see millions of Parisians march against religious extremism and countless others show their solidarity via hashtags and messages on social media, we cannot ignore the fact that a rather disturbing cognitive gap is opening up between different parts of the world and different segments of humanity. Even in the face of atrocity, humankind is failing to speak the same language.
Among the political leaders who marched in Paris there were quite a few with a lamentable human rights curriculum vitae. While Saudi Arabia was quick to send a representative to France, the regime did not shy away from publicly lashing Raif Badawi, a liberal blogger, for his views. Israel, Russia and Egypt, among others, have been criticised for their double standards at home and abroad. Turkey, my motherland, has a shocking number of journalists and cartoonists either in prison or facing trial.
No doubt, the most moving response to the act of brutality came from cartoonists across the globe. With powerful images and few words they showed their unflinching support for freedom of expression. But those of us who cannot draw, and therefore must talk or write have done a poor job in general. With every aggrandising remark the cognitive gap widened.
Former French President Nicolas Sarkozy claimed: “This is a war declared on civilization.” Soon after, the Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan announced: “French citizens carry out such a massacre, and Muslims pay a price.” He then added: “Games are being played with the Islamic world, we need to be aware of this.” Such statements only served to increase conspiracy theories, which abound throughout the Middle East. Meanwhile journalists, academics and writers lampooned each other. The response to a book is another book.
So far, the language over Charlie Hebdo has been more divisive than unifying. Even the usage of conjunctions is a problem. After the tragedy, a top-level politician in Turkey tweeted that it was wrong to kill journalists, but they should not have mocked Islamic values. Never had the word “but” disturbed me so much.
The controversy had important echoes inside Turkey. The secularist newspaper Cumhuriyet wrote a powerful statement, saying that having lost some of their own writers to terrorism in the past, they understood so well the pain of the Charlie Hebdo killings. But the AKP government was of a different mind. The prime minister said printing the cartoons would be considered “heavy sedition” and they would not allow anyone to insult the Prophet. Accordingly, a court order was issued to prohibit access to Turkish websites that insisted in publishing Charlie Hebdo’s recent cover.
In response, independent news website T24 openly defied the court ban and published the entire issue of the magazine. And people kept spreading the cover via their Twitter and Facebook accounts. It was interesting to see how many of these reactions came from people who were already tired of the AKP government’s restrictive attitudes towards freedom of speech. As always, Turkey’s social media operated as a political platform. Over the years as media freedoms shrunk visibly, the social media became more and more politicised.
Every journalist, every poet, every novelist in Turkey knows words carry a heavy weight, and they can get you in trouble. We know that only too well that because of a poem, an article, a novel, or even a tweet we can be sued, put on trial, demonised, even imprisoned. When we write, we write with this knowledge at the back of our minds. As a result there is a lot of silent self-censorship. Yet we find it rather difficult to talk about this subject, mostly because it is embarrassing.
As a Turkish writer both freedom of speech and freedom of imagination are precious to me. When I travel in Muslim-majority countries I often hear people saying “I am offended, don’t I have a right to be?” Yet I believe we are making a grave mistake by focusing on the word “offence”, and questioning whether art can be offensive or people have a right to be offended. We are stuck in a mental trap as long as we cannot manage to discuss violence and offence separately.
We need to divorce the two notions. It is perfectly human to be offended in the face of mockery, opprobrium or slander. That is understandable. Hindus, Jews, Muslims, Christians or agnostics, we can all feel offended by something someone says, writes or does. But that is where the line must be drawn. What is inhuman and unacceptable is to resort to violence and shed blood in response.
The response to a book is another book. The response to an article is writing a counter-article. The response to cartoons is more cartoons, not fewer. Words need to be answered with words. This simple equation is what we have failed to teach to both the younger generations and ourselves.
Let’s be clear: this is not a clash of civilizations. It is not even a battle of religions. Yet it is a clash, and a deepening one, between two mindsets. The real chasm is between those of us who believe in pluralistic democracy, culture of co-existence and the value of diversity and cosmopolitanism, and those who have chosen to divide humanity into mutually exclusive camps: us versus them. It is a cognitive clash therefore.
As Sufis have been saying throughout the centuries, we are all profoundly interconnected. Globalism has way too often been interpreted as an economic and political phenomenon. Yet it also means that our futures, our stories and our destinies are interconnected. The unhappiness of someone living in Pakistan affects the happiness of someone living in Belgium or Australia. We must understand that in this complex web of relations any divisive rhetoric is bound to create more of the same.
Extremism somewhere breeds extremism elsewhere. Islamophobia spawns anti-Westernism and anti-Westernism spawns Islamophobia. A far-right racist in Germany might regard a Taliban man in Pakistan as his arch-enemy but in fact, they are kindred spirits. They share surprisingly similar narrow mindsets. And what’s more, they need each other to exist and to thrive.
We need to get out of the vicious circle of division and hatred before it engulfs us all. Together we must stand and speak up for pluralistic democracy and harmonious coexistence. At the same time, however, now is the time to think about the response we have given to the tragedy calmly and carefully. In this response lie the hidden important clues to our strengths and weaknesses as fellow human beings and the sharpest dilemmas that will continue to beset the world in the 21st century.
