The silencing of media in times of war

Israel’s High Court of Justice this week heard a petition challenging new legislation allowing a ban on foreign broadcasters deemed a threat to national security.

Known as the Al Jazeera law, in honour of its inaugural target, this allows the communications minister, with the consent of the prime minister and the committee of national security, to impose far-reaching sanctions.

“There is no doubt that there is a violation of freedom of expression here,” the High Court panel’s head, Justice Yitzhak Amit, told the hearing.

Yet Israel’s May shuttering of Al Jazeera – described as a “terror channel” by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu – passed without much domestic concern.

Any outrage was limited to Israel’s small liberal left wing, even though in banning Al Jazeera, Israel joins the august ranks of countries including Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Bahrain.

The issue is, of course, rife with politicisation. Al Jazeera is headquartered in Qatar, as is part of the Hamas leadership, and is hardly free from bias. Nonetheless, this law can be used in the future to ban other foreign broadcasters that are deemed to pose an amorphous “threat to national security”.

And crucially, it includes an “override clause” that even Israel’s high court cannot overturn.

It’s important to note that countries often introduce special legislation affecting media in times of war and crisis, amid legitimate national security considerations.

Ukraine is an obvious case in point, not least because it faces such a particularly sharp threat from Russian disinformation.

A year before Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022, President Volodymyr Zelensky moved to shut down three pro-Russian TV channels judged to effectively be weapons in Russia’s information war.

Immediately after the full-scale invasion, all national news channels were united into a 24-hour broadcast, and a subsequent newly revised media law was intended to be muscular enough to withstand Russian malign influence.

Yet while criticism of the government in times of war – especially one being fought with a citizen’s army – is not easy, Ukrainian journalists have quite effectively held their leaders to account.

Reporting on corruption in the defence ministry, for instance, heralded the minister’s resignation of defence minister Oleskiy Reznikov and government pledges for greater transparency.

And critically, the Government’s moves in the information sphere have not gone unchallenged. Ukraine, with its history of authoritarian government and a media scene under the sway of oligarchs and political interests, knows all too well how fragile free expression can be.

While officials made clear that the telethon would be completely free of government intervention, not all outlets were included, and critics note that some of those excluded such as Espresso, Channel 5, and Priamyi, had often criticised Zelensky and to varying degrees were associated with his predecessor Petro Poroshenko.

And there was widespread criticism of the March 2023 media law for handing too much power to government intervention, with the same measures to counter Russian disinformation all too easily abused to limit critical voices.

In neighbouring Moldova, scores of pro-Russian outlets were banned under the state of emergency declared immediately after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.  More than two years later, the TV channels and websites remain blocked despite the end of the state of emergency, and many critics would argue that the country remains as vulnerable as ever to Russian propaganda.

What is needed to ensure that national security considerations do not become a tool to control free expression is a robust civil society push back and an ongoing debate on the boundary between freedom of speech and the fight against fake news.

In Israel, where the national narrative has become an inextricable part of the conflict itself, the public appears increasingly supine in the face of the official version of events.

Israel has long championed its diverse and outspoken media sector as a sign of a vibrant democracy, alongside robust laws that purport to protect free expression. But civil society and media are now experiencing repression from both official and non-state sources, with Palestinian citizens of Israel bearing the brunt.

Anti-war protests have been curtailed and violently repressed; Jewish and Arab teachers fired over left-wing posts on social media, while students have faced disciplinary actions for simply supporting a ceasefire.

Dissenting voices and journalists are being directly targeted and doxxed. Just after 7 October, Communications Minister Shlomo Karhi suggested police be empowered to arrest those accused of spreading information that could harm morale or fuel enemy propaganda.

Haaretz journalist Rogel Alpher this week noted a column in Yisrael Hayom which called for articles in the penal law that mandate execution or life imprisonment enforced on those disseminating “defeatist propaganda” or “abetting the enemy”.

Of course, Israel is not about to start executing journalists. The vast majority of extreme proposals do not make it into law, just as most anti-war arrests do not lead to indictments. Even bans on specific outlets are not total; Al Jazeera can still be accessed with absolute ease online.

But this all helps create a chilling atmosphere, serving to normalise such actions and increasing self-censorship.

Israel’s Hebrew-language media has chosen to self-censor to such a large extent that Jewish Israelis experience what Esther Solomon, editor-in-chief of Haaretz English, describes as a  “cognitive gap” between the content they consume and what the rest of the world sees.

This means that anything confronting the profoundly uncomfortable reality of war and contradicting the accepted IDF narrative is seen as traitorous and a threat to national security.

The public acceptance of vaguely worded censorious media laws seems to fit all too well with the ongoing slow and creeping deterioration of Israel’s democracy.

Toomaj Salehi: A voice of defiance

We are devastated.

At Index we work with and for dissidents every day. And while we always work without fear or favour, some of the people we work become part of the Index family. Over the last year an Iranian rapper has managed to do just that. And this week we have learned that the totalitarian regime that runs Iran has sentenced him to death – his crime, using his voice, his art, to challenge the status quo and defend those whose voices were not as powerful.

In the realm of hip-hop, where words are wielded like weapons and beats serve as battlegrounds for social justice, Toomaj Salehi emerged as a voice of defiance against oppression in Iran. A lyrical maestro and an unwavering advocate for the rights of Iranian women, Toomaj has created music that transcends mere entertainment – it became a lifeline for those silenced by the iron grip of authority.

Last year, we recognised Toomaj with the Index on Censorship Freedom of Expression Art Award, a recognition of his unwavering commitment to using his craft as a weapon against injustice. However, we couldn’t celebrate with Toomaj in person, for he was imprisoned for using his voice.

As I write, Toomaj languishes in jail, condemned to endure the darkness of imprisonment for the unfathomable crime of “corruption on earth”. His sentence, however, is not now only a term behind bars (as appalling as that was); as of this week it is now a death sentence. If his appeal fails, it seems all too possible that Toomaj will be murdered by the Iranian regime within a matter of weeks.

Toomaj’s journey as an artist has been one fraught with danger and defiance. Despite facing previous arrests and intimidation tactics, he refused to be muzzled, using his music as a conduit for truth in a landscape dominated by lies. His verses reverberated with the echoes of injustice, shining a spotlight on the abuses perpetrated by the Iranian authorities.

In the wake of the tragic death of Jina “Mahsa” Amini, Toomaj’s resolve only hardened. He lent his voice to the chorus of protest, amplifying the cries for justice that reverberated through the streets. However, his outspokenness proved to be his undoing, as he found himself ensnared by the tendrils of repression.

His arrest was not merely a bureaucratic formality but a violent crackdown on dissent. Toomaj was subjected to the horror of torture until a fake confession was coerced, a desperate attempt to stifle his message of resistance.

The plight of Toomaj Salehi serves as a stark and horrifying reminder of the harsh realities faced by artists in repressive regimes. In Iran, where creativity is stifled and dissent is met with brutality, the act of speaking out becomes an act of defiance in itself. Toomaj’s music, once a beacon of hope for the oppressed, now stands as a testament to the cost of resistance.

In the coming days the team at Index will be doing everything it can to raise awareness of Toomaj’s case. Together we must harness all the tools at our disposal to reverse the unjust death sentence imposed upon him and work tirelessly to secure his release. We need your help to amplify his voice and stand in solidarity with him, for his struggle is not his alone — it is a rallying cry for all those who believe in the power of music, art, and human rights.

And Toomaj now needs our help.