It’s hard for many of us to imagine, but all around the world, people are being intimidated out of playing music. Here is a list of some musicians who have been prevented from expressing themselves freely so far in 2016.
Ahmet Muhsin Tüzer, Turkey
The Turkish musician was denied permission to perform in Portugal by Turkey’s Directorate of Religious Affairs, according to several news media, on 1 March 2016. His performance at the Serralves Museum in Porto had been approved by Turkey’s Cultural Ministry before the Diyanet, Turkey’s religious enforcement authority, overruled their decision.
Bangy (CedricBangirini), Burundi
Cedric Bangirinama, known as Bangy, was arrested on 27 January 2016 by Burundi’s national intelligence service for statements he made on his Facebook account that were insulting to the head of state. The musician was held for three weeks and eventually released on 16 February 2016.
Elawela Balady, Egypt
A concert scheduled for 24 January 2016, celebrating the fifth anniversary of the Egyptian Revolution, was to forced to cancel by the country’s Ministry of State of Antiquities. The event was to feature Elawela Balady and had received approval from the Ministry of Culture to hold the show in Cairo’s Prince Taz Palace. The band that was set to play have contributed to political and social awareness through their music.
Art Attack, Kenya
Art Attack, a Kenyan band who campaign for LGBT rights in the country and other African nations, faced censorship after the Kenyan Film and Classification Board banned their video in February for its remix of Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’s song Same Love. The decision was made because the video “does not adhere to the morals of the country”, Kenyan newspaper The Star reported. The video includes powerful images of LGBT protests and homophobic news headlines from the country.
Salar Aghili, Iran
Salar Aghili was banned from performing at Iran’s Fajr International Music Festival and from appearing on Iranian television because of his appearance on a Persian-language satellite channel based in London. Ali Jannati, minister of Culture and Islamic Guidance, said earlier this month that “artists shouldn’t give any interviews to foreign satellite channels”.
Index on Censorship has teamed up with the producers of an award-winning documentary about Mali’s musicians, They Will Have To Kill Us First, to create the Music in Exile Fund to support musicians facing censorship globally. You can donate here, or give £10 by texting “BAND61 £10” to 70070.
“My job is to make good art,” said Belgian artist Kris Verdonck. “I have no interest in being deliberately offensive or provocative.”
Verdonck was speaking at an event at the Onassis Cultural Centre in Athens last week, entitled Art Freedom Censorship. Featuring a range of international speakers and organisations, including Index on Censorship, the event was inspired by recent works and performances that have been shutdown in Greece following public outcry.
In Verdonck’s case, that outcry came predominantly from one man: a local priest.
Last year Onassis Cultural Centre put on one of Verdonck’s works, Stills, a series of oversized, slow-mo nudes that move within confined spaces. The artist has been showing the images around Europe, projected on to buildings associated with historical dictators. In Athens, the show lasted just one day before a priest complained. A staff member from Onassis was temporarily held in police custody before the centre agreed to halt the projections.
Also speaking at Art Freedom Censorship was director Pigi Dimitrakopoulou, who presented a play, Nash’s Balance, at Greece’s National Theatre in January, before it was pulled mid-run after vehement protests and threats of violence. The work used text taken from a book by Savvas Xiros, a convicted member of the 17 November group, which the Greek government considers a terrorist organisation.
In one of the more heated debates of the evening, Dimitrakopoulou said she hadn’t given much thought to censorship before being embroiled in the scandal. “I always thought I was too conservative to be affected by such things.” She spoke of a “political tsunami” that engulfed the show. “I expected a reaction, but more related to the work,” she said, adding that she believed most critics hadn’t seen it.
Greek journalist and publisher Elias Kanellis, who had been outspokenly against the decision to use the 17 November text, stood by his criticism but clarified that he never called for it to be censored. “Criticism is the founding principle of democracy,” he said. “But what if I were to publish Jihadi propaganda?”
Discussions also included a look at the role of the church in Greece today. Stavros Zoumboulakis, president of the supervisory council of the Greek National Library, spoke of orthodox priests refusing to admit the nation is now a post-Christian society, with only a tiny percentage attending mass. But Xenia Kounalaki, a journalist from Greek daily newspaper Kathimerini, argued the issue was less about numbers of active worshipers, more a problem of top-down influence, which still extends into the nation’s education system.
Other speakers included former Charlie Hebdo columnist and author of In Praise of Blasphemy Caroline Fourest; Mauritanian filmmaker Lemine Ould M. Salem, who has run into difficulties with France’s film classification board over his documentary about Salafi fighters in Mali; and German director Daniel Wetzel, who is presenting a theatrical interpretation of Mein Kampf at Onassis in April.
Vicky Baker spoke at Art Freedom Censorship on behalf of Index on Censorship
The intertwining nature of music and politics is nothing new. Tom Morello, former Rage Against the Machine guitarist, has been raging against corruption and inept politicians for years. Bernie Sanders, influenced by folk greats like Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan, released an EP of covers with the help of fellow Vermont artists and politicians in 1987. Even former US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, a classically trained performer since her adolescent years, played piano alongside Aretha Franklin in Philadelphia in 2010. However, the words “Taiwanese parliament” and “death metal” are not a combination most are familiar with. Freddy Lim, frontman of one of Asia’s most popular heavy-metal bands, Chthonic, is out to change that.
Lim recently won a seat in parliament representing the New Power Party and defeating Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) member Lin Yu-fang, who had held his seat for 20 years. The election saw an end to KMT control, with Tsai Ing-wen, the Democratic Progress Party, becoming Taiwan’s first female president. Lim, a longtime human rights activist, served as president of Taiwan’s Amnesty International branch from 2010 until 2014. Lim’s unconventional persona — performing in excessive face paint and flaunting tattooed biceps — has been attractive to the country’s youth, who have been receptive to Lim’s political activism around gay rights, government transparency and environmental issues.
Index on Censorship had the chance to discuss Lim’s outlook on Taiwanese politics and the power of music.
Index: What are your biggest goals for your term? Which do you hope to accomplish first?
Lim: I hope that during my term, we are able to deepen the democracy in Taiwan. Within the next four years, I hope we are able to correct a lot of things, including fixing our current referendum laws, reworking our impeachment laws so we can actually vote a public official out of office. I’m hoping to help complete the improvement our legislature through reform — to allow our legislators to be able to conduct investigations when they need to, also to allow the legislature to be monitored by citizens, and to give the legislature the ability to monitor the government.
Index: How do you think music breaks down suppression and censorship in the world? In Taiwan?
Lim: Music is a very special medium. It can break through barriers of language as well as socioeconomic barriers that stem from differing backgrounds and upbringing. It’s also softer, it’s different from preaching, so I think it has a special power to break through boundaries. So, for example, in China they have extensive censorship of the internet, they are prohibited from viewing YouTube and Facebook and a lot of different other methods of coming into contact with various types of important information. But now they’ve found ways around that, to find out the information that they want. And within all of this information, I think music is very special, because through music — for our Chinese fans at least, a lot of them find out about Taiwanese history through listening to Chthonic’s music. It’s different from a lecture, reading theoretical books or just learning from history lessons to get to know Taiwan’s current state. A lot of the Chinese fans that I know came to know Taiwan’s history and came to understand it through Chthonic’s music.
Index: What are the pressures in speaking about taboo subjects like being less reliant on China?
Lim: In Taiwan, when you talk about more ‘taboo’ subjects, actually there aren’t really any taboo subjects because we are a free and open country. So when you talk about these things, such as in China, well, in China they just won’t report on it but in Taiwan it is okay. For example, if you talk about Free Tibet, or supporting the freedom of the Chinese people to pursue democracy. There are peculiar groups in Taiwan that are close to China that will give you some pressure, but in terms of this particular question, when you talk about things like “cutting ties and being less reliant on China”, it’s not really prohibited since most people in Taiwan believe that Taiwan is different from China and is a separate country, so when you talk about being less reliant on China actually there isn’t much pressure there. Things that will cause more pressure might be like supporting Free Tibet, or supporting human rights group within China, or things having to do with democracy in China, or protection of legal rights, there might be some pressure such as through verbal threats, they might call us, or perhaps through the internet we receive threats. Or like previously when Chthonic toured abroad, due to my activities with Free Tibet and support of Chinese democracy, there have been some self-proclaimed Chinese students that have given us pressure, threatening that we should not perform on stage otherwise they were going to kill us or something like that. There are a lot of vocal threats, but we won’t be afraid to talk about these kinds of things because of that.
Index: Do you feel like you deal with censorship more so with your music career or political career?
Lim: Actually, I don’t feel strongly either way; maybe it’s because of my personality, but I don’t think that in either my music or political career I’ve felt censorship because in Taiwan we are fundamentally a more free country and so there isn’t any systemic pressure, they won’t really do anything. However, in reality in business or industry, in terms of doing business, in music you can clearly feel there’s some media outlets, or some music businesses, or events or festivals, if they have closer ties with China or if the group responsible for it is on friendly terms with China they won’t want you to go talking those types of things. So on a certain level, in my music career, in Taiwan, in the entertainment or music industry, there is some degree of pressure, but I feel like for Chthonic this isn’t a huge issue because the Chinese market is not our primary market so we aren’t really inconvenienced by it by any means.
Index: Which political leaders influence you during the songwriting process? What artists/bands do you go to for inspiration?
Lim: For me, when I write songs a lot of my inspiration doesn’t come from political leaders, rather it comes from bands and artists I like, such as some Taiwanese singers like Yu-Tian, Shen Wen Chen, Yeh Qi-Tian, and some that I used to really love such as Chen Yi-Lang, as well as Taiwanese Opera. In addition there are also foreign metal bands like Slayer, I really like Slayer, Pantera, Emperor, these are all bands I really love. In terms of political leaders, I really respect and admire, the one that stands out is the Dalai Lama.
Index: How do you think gatherings like the Chthonic 20th anniversary show can help make people more politically aware?
Lim: I think in terms of soft events, such as our 20th anniversary, the primary focus is still as a fun event, to let everyone have a good time, that is its nature is in entertainment, in the excitement that people get from listening to metal, so I think at its core it is still to let everyone have a good time. Now in terms of politics, I feel like it depends on the circumstance. Of course, we would hope that our fans or people that come to our shows can feel and understand some of our own political views, but the music is still the focal point when we hold these events, and for the political aspect, we just allow this exchange to happen and hope it inspires some people and that’s it.
Index: What do you think the similarities and differences are between the two types of gatherings? How do you work to bridge that gap between the two?
Lim: I think that no matter if it’s a political gathering or a musical gathering, the most important thing is the situation, it’s different from going to a lecture. For example, at a political gathering, I feel like a successful political gathering it is important to consider the logos and ethos of the audience members, whereas in terms of musical gatherings, obviously it is heavier on the ethos because most audience members at a metal show just want to have a good time, to enjoy the music. They’re not going to be analysing your lyrics or picking apart the musical or its composition. However, in political gatherings I feel like the rationale of the audience must be taken into more consideration because the people in the audience are there to logically analyse your presentation. However, I feel that in political gatherings the emotional aspect is still very important, as we can’t focus purely on logic. So how are you going to address [these political issues] with reference to the land, to history, to the people, to the relationships between the people, how are you going to call on that, to touch these emotions and to touch the people and to inspire them to rally with you? I think this is very important.
Index: How has music helped you express your misgivings about the Taiwanese government?
Lim: Actually, our music rarely expresses our misgivings about the Taiwanese government. Our music is focused primarily on Taiwanese mythology, history, legends…oh and some are ghost stories, so actually we don’t really express ‘misgivings about the Taiwanese government’. On the contrary, our music fans will express their own anger towards the government through our songs and at our concerts, sometimes even more so than we ourselves, which is pretty interesting.
Index: What kind of methods do you plan to use to promote free expression in Taiwan?
Lim: I haven’t really thought of methods to promote free expression in Taiwan, I think that Taiwan is already a country that should have freedom of expression, so to protect this freedom is to protect Taiwanese human rights and related institutions, so in this aspect, in interactions between Taiwan and China, or Taiwan and other countries where freedom of expression is suppressed, we need to have a greater precaution in our approach, like right now between Taiwan and China. Although Taiwan itself is already a country that has freedom of speech, because we are too close to China, there have been compromises, some of which I mentioned earlier, such as in the entertainment business, music industry, and publication industry, there has been some self-censorship in order to appeal to the Chinese market, and so I think that if we are going to promote free expression in Taiwan, one of the most important things is to place freedom of expression at the forefront when we are interacting or collaborating with other countries, to have it written into the contracts and so forth so that we do not compromise the value of the free expression that we already have.
Index on Censorship has teamed up with the producers of an award-winning documentary about Mali’s musicians, They Will Have To Kill Us First, to create the Music in Exile Fund to support musicians facing censorship globally. You can donate here, or give £10 by texting “BAND61 £10” to 70070.
Watching the surreal videos of the police takeover of Turkish newspaper Zaman last week — inside the building police officers played cards behind the newspaper’s reception desk and devoured plates of baklava in the cafeteria as journalists looked on — I was reminded of the events of the past eight years that so definitively transformed Turkey’s media scene.
The change happened so gradually over the years that many missed the transformation. But journalism in Turkey has turned into a scene of feuds and long-held hostilities. The job description of a Turkish journalist now includes the ability to help lock up journalists from the opposite political camp.
Over the past eight years, a spate of legal cases have altered Turkey’s media environment beyond return. The most recent of these was the 2014 Selam Tevhid case, in which prosecutors intended to jail Turkey’s pro-government journalists who were accused of being foreign spies and aiding terrorist organisations.
But it was the OdaTV case of 2011 that had the greatest impact on journalism. The outcome silenced the popular and populist voice of secular nationalists and spread fear and paranoia to all media workers.
Earlier, in September 2008, after selling off his secular-nationalist broadcaster KanalTurk, Turkish journalist Tuncay Özkan was detained by Turkish police in relation to the Ergenekon investigation. He was detained in the Silivri Penitentiary, Europe’s largest penal facility where he would await the outcome of his trial for more than two years. One of Özkan‘s friends, Mustafa Balbay, the Ankara correspondent of Cumhuriyetnewspaper, was also imprisoned in the same trial.
To many observers, Özkan’s and Balbay’s ideas were old fashioned, parochial and too nationalistic, views that somehow defined the way they were treated in the public sphere. There was little international reaction when Özkan’s KanalTurk‘s staunchly secularist and republican editorial line was changed overnight. The same broadcaster now defended polar opposite views.
After five years in detention, Özkan was sentenced in April 2013 to life imprisonment for being part of Ergenekon, a “ultra-secularist organisation that plotted a coup”. Balbay was luckier: he received 34 years and 8 months. Again, there was little world reaction to this surreal turn of events, but, in Turkey, many progressive voices applauded the verdicts, seeing them as part of what they ominously called the country’s “normalisation”.
Throughout 2008, Turkey’s media sphere changed enormously through these trials that made the criminalisation of Turkey’s media part of the journalistic occupation. More than a dozen journalists were detained in the OdaTV trials, accused of being members of the “media arm” of the terrorist organisation Ergenekon, named after Turks’ founding myth. There were so many arrests that the prison’s sports hall needed to be transformed into a courtroom to accommodate all the defendants.
Many of Turkey’s progressives bought into the idea that what was happening was a good thing. Once “ultra-secularist coup plotters” would be placed behind bars, Turkey would finally achieve its long-awaited “liberal consensus”. Those who opposed the arrests were branded reactionaries who should have known better.
According to the newspapers, Turkey was cleaning its bowels: there were lone dissenting voices but the general reaction to the prison verdicts was that all the bad, radical people were finally getting what they had long deserved.
The normalisation discourse was built on the idea that Turkey needed a “liberal consensus” where the extreme elements of politics and the media needed to leave the public sphere to moderates of all political persuasions. Thanks to this, Turkey would be able to become “a model democracy” in the Middle East.
As the trials continued, and more than 40 Kurdish journalists were imprisoned because of their alleged ties to terrorist groups, Turkey was represented as its most liberal self in the international scene — what made it democratic, the argument ran, was the trials themselves. In fact, Turkey was being its most illiberal self, having the highest number of journalists in prison at the time. In 2012, just a year before the anti-government Gezi Park protests, the country was being held up as a paradigm. A Reporters Without Borders report from that year, read: “With a total of 72 media personnel currently detained, of whom at least 42 journalists and four media assistants are being held in connection with their media work, Turkey is now the world’s biggest prison for journalists – a sad paradox for a country that portrays itself a regional democratic model.”
Worryingly, the Ergenekon and OdaTV trials moulded a new type of journalist who took pleasure in the jailing of his colleagues. After journalist and IPI World Press Freedom Hero Nedim Sener and his colleague Ahmet Sik were detained in 2011, they were conveniently added to the list of coup plotters. When journalist and editor Soner Yalcin was arrested in February 2011 along with other OdaTv journalists, this was seen as a blow to Turkish nationalism, rather than journalism. In the fight with nationalism, the locking up of nationalist journalists was seen as a necessary evil.
By 2011, the process that had begun in 2008 reached new heights, when the character assassination of journalists became commonplace in the Turkish press. It was now acceptable to publish transcripts of phone conversations between journalists who might have been plotting a coup.
A more troubling development was the rise of a new genre: more and more journalists devoted all their work to making incriminating accusations against their colleagues. The success of a journalist’s work was now defined by the outcome of trials he had supported with his columns: if he managed to get his colleagues convicted through defaming their character, he was promoted.
No political group was able to resist the attraction of this new, adrenaline-ridden form of journalism and, most alarmingly, readers who followed those developments, started taking joy in this spectacle, a development that would surely fascinate Michel Foucault. Journalism became meta: newspaper front pages tallied which journalists were locked up and which were freed. There was fresh material every other month: the political identities of imprisoned journalists changed but the end result was the same.
It is now clear how Turkey’s fake “liberal consensus” failed spectacularly. However unpalatable progressives found them, Turkey’s secularist-nationalists, socialists and communists defended their right to exist in a society where they constitute a historical phenomenon alongside Turkey’s conservatives. Their imprisonment in the name of normalisation was unacceptable and immoral.
Instead of a liberal consensus, what Turkey needs is a proper dissensus: the coexistence of these different political camps.
Turkey Uncensored is an Index on Censorship project to publish a series of articles from censored Turkish writers, artists and translators.
