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.

On never being able to stop

“The greatest of all human delusions is that there is a tangible goal, and not just direction towards an ideal aim. The idea that a goal can be attained perpetually frustrates human beings, who are disappointed at never getting there, never being able to stop.”

Stephen Spender, poet and co-founder of Index on Censorship

Sometimes it is wise to follow the advice of a great. I have spent my life striving for tangible, if all too regularly unachievable, goals and sometimes you do just need to stop—if only to reflect. For the last four years I have led Index on Censorship as we strived to protect and promote freedom of expression in an increasingly polarised world. However it is now my turn to stop—at least at Index.

This is my last weekly blog. As of today my brilliant successor Jemimah Steinfeld will be taking over the reins as CEO (which means we’re looking for a new editor).

My time at Index started during the pandemic when authoritarian regimes used the pretext of Covid-19 as an excuse to restrict access to a free media. We’ve seen Putin invade Ukraine, the people of Afghanistan abandoned to the Taliban, the increased repression in Hong Kong and the continuing rise of populist politics around the world. All of this as technology is changing faster than any of us can really comprehend and we are only now starting to appreciate how it can be used as a tool for dissent as well as repression.

At times the world has felt far, far too bleak. Our ability to directly help dissidents has always been limited to paying them for their work – but when you are publishing their fears and realities every day it can be beyond disheartening. Yet my amazing team have worked to support people in Egypt, Iran, Hong Kong, Afghanistan, Belarus and a dozen other countries. It’s been a privilege to lead them, as they sought to protect others.

The joy of Index is that our supporters—well you—often rightly claim ownership of our work. Challenging us to do more. Before I leave I think it’s important for my successor that I explain why we do what we do. Our remit is promoting the work of dissidents; that means we touch on areas of media or academic or artistic freedom but when we do it should always be through the prism of censorship and repression. In the UK, the EU and the US we also engage on issues which we think undermine our ability to promote freedom of expression in countries where repression is the norm—we cannot forgo the moral high ground. And our rights are as important as anyone else’s.

This means that sometimes we won’t cover issues in the same depth that others do because we’re a small team. Index undoubtedly punches above its weight but there are less than a dozen of us, so we can’t cover everything. We also might not cover an issue because as important or as valid as it is, it might not be a matter of freedom of expression but rather underpinned by an alternative human right.

There is also the fact that some of the team travel – to the very places that we write about. So sometimes we don’t publish until they come home.  So occasionally you may need to indulge us.

Even with all of these constraints Index does exceptional work. I am so proud of the work we’ve done on SLAPPs, on digital rights and of course the work we do with dissidents. So thank you for your support in making it happen.

And while I am doing thank-yous, it would be remiss of me not to thank my amazing Chair, Trevor Philips, and our brilliant board of Trustees. With me, they have helped Index rebrand, relaunch and celebrate our 50th birthday. They have rebuilt the organisation into the force I believe it to be. Their commitment to Index has been unwavering and without them Index wouldn’t be here today. Simply put they are exceptional people and I am grateful to them.

Going forward Index has a huge work programme – freedom of expression will be challenged by AI, deepfakes, transnational repression and a shifting world order with nation states whose actions can mean it is no longer always clear who are goodies. This is all compounded by a public space that no longer encourages debate but rather seeks to silence the alternative view. Issues quickly become toxic and ideological purity is seemingly a prerequisite for engagement in any ‘controversial’ debate. This is at odds with the very basic tenets of freedom of expression – debate and engagement leads to change and enables societies to thrive and grow. We should always be prepared to protect the boundaries of our public space to protect speech – not hate speech – but genuine thought and considered debate. After all that is the basis for any strong democracy.

So as the UK heads towards a general election, my focus will be on the best bit of our democracy – the election campaign.

So thank you for your support, your views and most importantly your commitment to freedom of expression.

Here’s hoping – that as a third of the world heads to the polls this year – freedom of expression will end up as the protected and cherished human right that we all need it to be.

PS – Make sure you use your vote – if you have one!

PPS – Be kind to Jemimah,  she is going to be brilliant. 

New magazine Atar fills information void in Sudan

Atar, a digital magazine distributed via email and WhatsApp, first came to my attention late last October. I was in a dimly lit New York cafe, warmed by the company of a group of Sudanese diaspora; artists, activists, journalists, nursing hot teas and wounded souls. As it often does, the question of obtaining high quality Sudani news bubbled up. “Have you heard about Atar yet?’ someone asked. I hadn’t, yet. But this interaction was instructive. With their formal website still under construction, word-of-mouth was one of the main ways this weekly Arabic (bi-monthly English) magazine was being found.

An initiative of the non-for-profit Sudan Facts Center for Journalism Services – founded by veteran journalist Arif Elsaui – Atar began publishing on 12 October 2023, six months into the war against civilians in Sudan. Co-managing director Amar Jamal told Index it was a project borne of necessity.

“We had been talking about theory for a long time,” Jamal said. “But with the current situation, we realised there won’t be any more media outlets in Sudan left.”

Sudan Facts Center had been running fellowships for young professional journalists, but the crisis spurred them into pushing forward with their greater ambitions. “If we were going to wait until the perfect conditions, we would be waiting a long time. Let us start, and improve as we go along,” Jamal noted.

Since October, the Atar team has produced 28 Arabic editions and four in English. Inspired by The Continent, another popular African digital news magazine, Atar – with the tagline “Sudan in Perspective” – is currently distributed through Telegram, WhatsApp, Signal and email.

“There hasn’t been a day when our distribution list hasn’t grown,” Jamal said.

Stories range from investigations into “Sudan’s labyrinth of torture centres” to the stories of those fleeing the war north through Egypt. Early editions reported on the daily experiences of Sudanese people during the conflict, how they “eat, drink and sleep” and their “daily heroism”, while more recent releases focus on the mutual aid infrastructure keeping people alive.

Not only was the content of the story important to get right, Jamal said, but the voice and tone of the publication was given thorough consideration.

“We stay away from tragic language. While we are writing about death, we write about it with heroism.” Not necessarily out of a desire to give readers hope, “but to give people an encouraging word”.

Atar began with three editors in Nairobi – Arif Elsaui, Amar Jamal and Mohammed Alsadiq – and four correspondents. The first releases were focused on the written word, delivering vital information via dense blocks of text, not unlike the traditional Sudanese newspaper. But this model changed after the team took stock 10 weeks into the project. Over the new year period, “we took a break to review the structure and design, expand our pool of reporters, institutionalise the project so it wouldn’t fail,” Amar said.

Today, Atar is delivered by 24 reporters and seven editors. The growth is palpable, not only in the range of stories, but in their design. The structure and voice of Atar is unique, deliberately so. “This is not a newspaper, delivering daily stories,” Amar makes clear. Atar is focused on analysis, curation, about showing the verification and the context for your average reader to make sense of unfolding events.

“The need for a newspaper has changed in the age of social media,” said Jamal, noting that in an age of camera phones, the recording of events has been democratised.

“What is needed now is the verification and context. That is our ambition. Respecting the intellect of the Sudanese reader, and presenting material that yes, might be difficult, but it has value. The value it has is in its truth.”

Atar is providing a home for fact-based news in a prohibitive information landscape. There are few players in Sudan today, fewer still after the state suspended operations of three satellite channels this April, Saudi state-owned broadcasters Al Arabiya and Al Hadath and UAE-owned Sky News Arabia.

“All of the correspondents that we began with have had to leave the country,” Amar admitted. “It’s very difficult to write from the inside.” But difficult is not impossible, and Atar consistently manages to publish original stories from the ground.

“Sometimes, stories are written under the Atar byline to protect the journalist,” Jamal said, describing how their local correspondents find ways to contact sources and file stories even in the most challenging circumstances. “Even when the internet was cut off,” he said. “You just adjust your investigative style.”

Atar’s popularity now means that they are regularly approached by writers, reporters and potential sources as an outlet for news, with some sending in fully written pieces for publication. Atar pride themselves on having an open-door policy, allowing anyone to submit material via phone or email, but only work that goes through their fact-checking system will be included in the magazine. The volume of engagement and interest is a “scream from the people,” Jamal said. Even a 14-year-old girl sent a piece with some news. These are people’s voices who are not heard and Atar wants to be a home for them.

Such grounded local reporting cultivates intense loyalty and support, such as in the case of the small island of Dagarti. “It has maybe only 300, 400 inhabitants,” Jamal said. “Nobody had written about these people before. But when our journalist went to do a follow-up story, she said the whole island waits for Thursday so they can read Atar.”

What next for Atar? The team has big ambitions. Their English-language edition was always part of the plan, because “it isn’t just the Sudanese reader that cares about Sudan.” They have recently moved into a new, larger office in Nairobi, with talk of a live studio arm, events and more. Their approach is experimental, and with enough funding in the bank for the moment, Jamal is excited about the future.

Jamal is not the only one. If this is what the Sudanese people can do in the most inhospitable of circumstances, imagine the possibilities once the war is over.