The Court of First Instance of Tunis today ordered Nabil Karoui, boss of Nessma TV, to pay a fine of 2,400 Tunisian Dinars (961 GBP) over the broadcast of the French-Iranian animated film Persepolis.
Karoui was found guilty of “disturbing public order”, and of “attacking proper morals” but the court dismissed the charge of “attacking religious symbols”. Nadia Jalel, whose association dubbed the film into Tunisian dialect, and Hedi Boughnim, Nessma Program Director were also convicted and fined.
Shot from French-Iranian film, Persepolis
The film aired few weeks before elections in October 2011 which bought the moderate Islamist Ennahda party to power. It angered hardline Islamists and sparked violent protests. Karoui’s house and Nessma TV headquarters were attacked by ultra-conservative protesters who considered the film “blasphemous” because it contains a scene where God is depicted. Seculars Tunisians viewed the trial as a test of freedom of speech.
The verdict was issued as World Press Freedom Day was celebrated in Tunis. Naceur Aouini, Karoui’s defence lawyer described the verdict as “political par excellence”, saying “the Tunisian judiciary is not independent”. He told AFP: “This verdict is an affront to the freedom of the press. We hoped for a straightforward acquittal on this World Press Freedom Day.”
Aouini told Express FM that the defence will appeal, and will continue fighting “for the Tunisians’ right to freedom of speech, and to an independent judiciary”.
Faouzi Ben Mrad, another lawyer defending Karoui, described the verdict was “alarming”.
“I feel ashamed because we have provided the court with all documents, and legal texts that prove that Karoui, and the two other defendants did not commit any crime that requires punishment…it’s a sad day”.
The Tunisian Ministry of Interior has issued a ban on protests on Habib Bourguiba Avenue in Tunis, the capital’s main avenue. The ministry claims that it took such decision following complaints received from commercial and touristic businesses located on the avenue, as well as from citizens “over violations committed during some protests”.
“The Ministry of Interior has decided to prohibit protests, marches, and all forms of collective expression on the entire Habib Bourguiba Avenue as of the release of this communiqué”, said the ministry on 28 March.
The decision of the Ministry came few days after a group of Islamists calling for the implementation of Islmaic law gathered on the avenue on 25 March, not far away from a cultural gathering of Tunisian artists, and actors who got together to celebrate World Theater Day. The artists claim that they were assaulted by some of the Islamist protesters, something the Ministry of Interior denies. “During these two manifestations, no acts of violence were registered”, said the ministry in a communiqué released on 25 March.
The prestigious Habib Bourguiba Avenue, once a touristic and commercial attraction, turned into an epicenter of protests in January 2011 when thousands of protesters demanding the fall of the regime of Zeine el-Abidin Ben Ali assembled there. Right after the ousting of former President Ben Ali, a protest culture flourished all over the country, and Habib Bourguiba Avenue has been regarded as a symbol of rebellion.
The report by MPs on privacy talks of the importance of free expression, but the measures it proposes fly in the face of that aim, says Index’s John Kampfner
Prominent Bahraini human rights defender Abdulhadi Al Khawaja has been serving a life sentence since April 2011 for his involvement in anti-government protests last year. Al Khawaja has now been on hunger strike for 26 days. His daughter, Zainab Al Khawaja, also a human rights activist, writes about her imprisoned father.
When my father started his current hunger strike, he was already weakened as he had just ended a seven-day hunger strike 48 hours before. On the 10th day of this hunger strike my father was taken to the hospital, having collapsed in prison. He was taken back to the hospital on day 13, again on day 17 and again on day 24. Each time the doctor pleaded with him to just eat something, anything; each time my father refused, reiterating that he would only leave the prison free or dead.
That previous seven-day strike, undertaken with his 13 co-defendants/co-inmates, was made to protest the ongoing imprisonment of those who had taken to the streets last February and March and were being punished for demanding civil liberties and democracy. For my father, it was personal as much as political — his younger brother was sitting in the same prison as him. His two sons-in-law were arrested with him and also subjected to torture. His wife was fired from her job of 10 years by order of the Ministry of Interior.
My father is not a fanatic; or rather he is only a fanatic when it comes to believing that every person should have her or his basic human rights respected in full. He has worked his whole life for this principle, by documenting and reporting abuse, by training others to do the same, by working to effectively campaign for human rights, by speaking out against abuse and by joining with others to peacefully protest when rights are systemically trampled.
Abdulhadi Al Khawaja with his granddaughter, Jude
Following his arrest, my father refused to give up on the struggle for human rights; he continued his human rights work behind the walls of a military prison, at a site that is not found on any map. My father paid a high price for speaking out on several occasions in the military trial about the torture he and others were subjected to. When his two-month solitary confinement came to an end my father engaged in discussions in the prison, continuing to spread human rights education and the example of nonviolent protest. My father gave the other political prisoners a full course in human rights. He then asked the commander of the prison for paper so he could write certificates for his fellow inmates to document that they had completed a human rights education course.
When I was growing up with my sisters, and we were living outside Bahrain, my dad would talk about the day we would return and the kind of country we would one day live in — where all our rights would be respected, where we could live with dignity and freedom. We did return to Bahrain in 2001, but what we returned to was not my father’s dream. Though not the nightmare it has since become, it was clear even then that there were limits to individual rights and as a community, one group in Bahrain faced systemic discrimination. My father could not live with that, and so he did what he always did — he started working for human rights and opened the Bahrain Centre for Human Rights.
Abdulhadi Al Khawaja with the current director of the Bahrain Centre for Human Rights, Nabeel Rajab
When the uprising in Bahrain started last 14 February, inspired by events in Tunisia and Egypt, my father quit his job with international human rights organisation Front Line Defenders and went to Pearl Roundabout to join the youth, who seemed all at once to have heard his message. This may have been the closest my father got to his dream, those days at Pearl, but now he is caught in the worst of nightmares. But even here he is teaching, leading by example and proving to be the most dangerous kind of men — the kind whose ideals cannot be shut away.
My father is Abdulhadi Al-Khawaja. He has been beaten, jailed, tortured, abused, sentenced to life in prison in a sham court trial, harassed, intimidated, had his family punished and seen friends and loved ones face harm. The last person who saw my father found him very thin, barely able to walk, stand or even sit up. But they also saw a sparkle in his eye. My father has spent his life struggling for others; he would rather die fighting the only way he can, than to ever give up on his dream. My father is Abdulhadi Al-Khawaja, and he is on the 26th day of his hunger strike for freedom.
Zainab Al-Khawaja, daughter of Abdulhadi Al Khawaja, and known as @angryarabiya on Twitter, is a Bahraini activist. Like her father, she has been jailed for protesting. She is a dual Danish and Bahraini citizen
