Religion rules in Russia

Pussy Riot supporters prevented from praying for Putin's resignation. (Image: Anton Belitskiy / Demotix)

Pussy Riot supporters prevented from praying for Putin’s resignation outside the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in Moscow    (Image: Anton Belitskiy / Demotix)

Two issues preoccupying post- Soviet society are a wish to oppose outside influences (mainly from the West), and to resist aggressive behaviour in matters of religion. It is not difficult to point out inconsistencies and contradictions in these approaches, but more germane is the fact that both have survived, if in modified form, to the present day. When the possibility of further restrictions on freedom of conscience are being discussed, a key topic is invariably the need to protect society from the “expansionism” of new religious movements and radical Islam.

The arrests of members of the Pussy Riot punk band after their performance outside Moscow’s Cathedral of Christ the Saviour proved a powerful catalyst for both these concerns. The protest was seen as a frontal attack on “tradition” by “pro-Western forces” (the actual point Pussy Riot wanted to make was neither here nor there), and as an attack on the religious sensibilities of the “Orthodox majority”. The reaction was accordingly heavy-handed, including not only imprisonment of two members of the group, but also the passing of a law criminalising the “offending of believers’ religious sensibilities”, often referred to as the “blasphemy” law.

The legislative proposal was introduced in September 2012 and became law in August 2013 but has not yet been enforced anywhere. There may be at least two reasons for this. First, many laws that are aimed at NGOs, protesters or what is seen as the “opposition” have either been applied much less rigorously than expected or not at all. The authorities have chosen not to resort to wholesale repression, preferring intimidation. Second, the Russian state and its political elite are still very secular and feel uncomfortable about what is widely regarded as a law against blasphemy.

Strictly speaking, this is not a law against blasphemy, unlike, for example, similar legislation in Italy. The offence is not against religious doctrine, the deity, or things considered holy. Desecration of sacred objects is an offence not under the Russian Criminal Code, but under the code of administrative offences, which means it is seen as less serious. Offending religious sensibilities or beliefs is a crime in the penal codes of several European countries, but the European Court of Human Rights (and, following it, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe) has consistently confirmed that a distinction needs to be made between offending sensibilities and inciting hatred.

In Russia today there are still attempts to bring charges of incitement to hatred under Article 282 of the criminal code in incidents that the law enforcement agencies, victims or others might reasonably have been expected to regard as mere offences against religious sensibilities. In a few cases, charges have been brought and, in fewer still, these charges have led to convictions. From interviews with law enforcement officers and representatives of various religious organisations, it is evident that numerous individuals and organisations that feel they have been offended on religious grounds appeal to the police and prosecutor’s office to institute criminal proceedings under Article 282. These requests are almost invariably turned down, and this is not a matter of officials taking sides: they are simply reluctant to institute proceedings on a shaky legal basis, except when that is in their own self-interest. They will do so if there is pressure on them from above, or if they face a pressing need to meet some target.

The addition of this new article to the criminal code, if it is not repealed, will lead sooner or later to its being enforced, and the main source of litigation will be complaints from numerous indignant parties. Demands for charges to be brought rained down upon the prosecutor’s office and police even before the amendments became law. It is important to recognise that the problem is not only repressive intentions on the part of the authorities, but also the repressive instincts of Russian citizens. Representatives of a wide range of community interest groups (though, thankfully, by no means all), including a number of minorities, constantly demand that criminal prosecution be the main way to influence those who cause them offence.

If the system does start enforcing this law, freedom of conscience will come under immense new pressure because of the likelihood of the sheer volume of litigation. Enforcement is likely to be highly selective, because a law of this kind can only be applied selectively. It will be manifestly discriminatory, in accordance with some individuals’ personal preferences and depending on the government’s latest priorities. Finally, it will be completely chaotic, because complaints will come in from all directions and there is nobody remotely qualified to assess their merits.

We can hope, of course, that the new article may yet be removed from the criminal code, but the chances of that are slim. The fact that it is there in the first place results from a consistent trend towards restricting freedom of expression in matters of religion, justified on the basis of the need to maintain “religious peace”. There are two main aspects to this laudable aim, and they enjoy widespread support. The first is safeguarding national security against the preaching of terrorism motivated by religion. The second is to safeguard national security against internal, particularly ethnic, conflicts, which are seen as often being fuelled by religion.

These two security aspects were major reasons for the introduction, in 2002-2007, of the current legislation to counteract “extremism”. This legislation is used extensively against violent racist groups, but also against sundry ideological minorities, which by no means espouse violence or pose a serious, or indeed any, threat to national security.

Abuse of this legislation is made possible by its imprecise wording, which we also find in respect to the new law to protect religious sensibilities. This inevitably leads to arbitrary application and, specifically, to exploitation for political purposes. There have been numerous instances of this, but let us focus on just three. Among the first major “anti-extremist” trials associated with religion were those targeting contemporary art exhibitions at the Andrey Sakharov Museum, which presaged the Pussy Riot case. Also, in 2011, a journalist was convicted for making rude remarks about believers in general, and the clergy in particular, even though his was not by any means a high profile protest and could not be represented as involving incitement to hatred against any group. Lastly, over several years there has been a serious campaign of criminal prosecution against people who read or distribute the works of a Sufi teacher, the late Said Nursi, even though neither he nor his Russian followers have links to terrorism, or engage in conduct which might constitute a threat to society.

In the case of the Sakharov museum exhibitions, the general public could at least understand more clearly what was going on. Some might consider the exhibition a profound artistic meditation on relations between the church and society; others might see the exhibits as an amusing send-up of the church and/or orthodoxy; some might consider it a send-up in bad taste or even an attack on the church, but within acceptable limits of freedom of expression; others, however, were determined to prove that the exhibition was a criminal incitement to hatred of orthodoxy and Orthodox Christians.

In the case of the persecution of followers of Said Nursi, the general public know nothing about the subject and must either just believe or disbelieve what they are told by the security services, believe or disbelieve what is said by Muslim leaders defending those being persecuted, or simply turn and look the other way. Most people choose the last option, including a majority of journalists,which means a majority of citizens, even those who take an interest in social matters, know nothing about these prosecutions.

Our citizens’ understanding of the issues around freedom of conscience is fragmentary. Most are far more concerned about conflicts over the balance between the slow-but-sure process of de-secularisation and the constitutionally guaranteed secular nature of the state. There are controversies over the presence of religion in schools, about the erection of Orthodox churches and mosques (although in the case of mosques the main cause of dissension is racism), and about various symbols of the cosy relationship between church and state. The real-life problems facing religious groups and, more generally, people expressing an opinion about religion, get forgotten.

These problems are legion. The most acute in recent years have arisen from improper application of anti-extremism legislation, but there are also the more “ordinary” problems, like refusals to release building land for places of worship and systematic campaigns of defamation. In a number of cases, like that of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, all these problems come together.

The Federal List of Extremist Materials has, however, excited the public’s interest by its scale and, even by Russian standards, sheer absurdity. The list can be found on the website of the Ministry of Justice and itemises materials banned from mass circulation. The ban is imposed by courts at the insistence of local prosecutors, who must satisfy the court that the material contains elements that can be construed as constituting “extremist activity”. This is usually incitement to hatred of some sort, impugning the dignity of a group, asserting the superiority or inferiority of a particular religion, and so forth. The whole process is quite  remarkably ineffective and does not stand up to scrutiny. Most of the materials the list is seeking to ban cannot be identified from the titles given and, no less problematically, banning them does not in strictly legal terms mean they cannot be re-published, because a new court case would be needed to re-establish the identity of the materials.

A great many of the banned books, websites, videos and material involves religion in one way or another. Many are jihadist texts openly calling for terrorism or other forms of violence, but many have nothing prejudicial in them: perhaps at most a claim of the superiority of one set of beliefs over others, to which texts of Jehovah’s Witnesses are prone. There are works by Muslim authors well known for their contribution to jihadist ideology, but on topics that are of no concern to national security (most commonly, on aspects of Sharia law). Finally, a number of texts have found their way on to the list purely by chance, having been confiscated from some “wrong-thinking” individual. This explains the presence of medieval treatises by the likes of the Persian mystic al Ghazali. In 2013 there was even a ban imposed on one of the most popular translations of the Quran.

The absurdity of such methods of “fighting extremism” has obliged even President Putin, at a recent meeting with muftis in Ufa in Bashkortostan, to acknowledge that there are problems with the current approach to banning religious materials. Alas, there is no sign of willingness to review the methods of fighting extremism more generally, or those aspects of them that most blatantly violate freedom of conscience.

 Translated by Arch Tait

This article appears in the Winter 2013 issue of Index on Censorship magazine

 

The Wolf of Wall Street banned in Kenya

Leonardo DiCaprio at the recent British premiere of The Wolf of Wall Street in London

Leonardo DiCaprio at the recent British premiere of The Wolf of Wall Street in London

Hollywood film The Wolf of Wall Street, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, has been banned in Kenya. The Kenya Film Classification Board announced their decision in a post on their Facebook page.

“There is a LIMIT to everything and we believe the Kenyan public deserves better. WOLF OF WALLSTREET has been RESTRICTED. The film is NOT for sale, exhibition or distribution in KENYA. Violators shall be PROSECUTED,” the message reads. No reason beyond this was given for the ban.

This article was posted on 16 Jan 2014 at indexoncensorship.org

Baku magazine and the tale of two Azerbaijans

Earlier editions of Baku magazine

Earlier editions of Baku magazine

The contrast is stark. On one hand, you’ve got Azadliq — Azerbaijan’s leading independent newspaper — balancing on the brink of bankruptcy. Known for its critical coverage of the country’s repressive regime, led by President Ilham Aliyev (in a role he essentially inherited from his father Heydar), the paper has been under continuous economic attacks by the government. Defamation cases and payments being held back, among others things, have left the paper in serious danger of folding.

On the other hand, there’s Baku — the art and culture magazine with an Azerbaijani twist, brainchild of Aliyev’s daughter Leyla and co-published by Conde Nast —  which recently celebrated its second birthday. A magazine so expensively produced it has its own special font probably doesn’t need to concern itself too much with sales figures and turnover.

The birthday bash was held at “vibrant Baku night spot Pacifico”, where “the champagne flowed and the band played into the night” and guests “toasted the title’s success”. I know this because I recently got my hands on issue 10 of the magazine, which hit the newsstands last week. The party was heavily featured in the society section, which also included appearances by Leyla herself, her sister Arzu and mother and First Lady Mehriban.

Somewhat ironically, I found a stack at an Index event exhibiting the work of Azerbaijani photographers capturing some of the country’s many protests.  They were probably kindly donated by the representatives from the Azerbaijani embassy, who popped along to the event.

At first glance, Baku magazine seems like your typical glossy, upmarket mag, promoting the sort of grossly decadent lifestyle most of us would never come within a gold cobbled country mile of. However, it doesn’t take many page turns to sense that something is a bit off.

One of the first things that hits you is the near-obsession between creating links between Azerbaijan and the most glamorous, posh and high-culture aspects of western countries. “Walking along the Boulevard, the wide, tree-lined esplanade that sweeps the length of Baku’s Caspian seafront, is probably quite similar to walking along the Promenade des Anglais in Nice, during the cooler months,” coos Leyla Aliyeva, who also holds the role of Editor-in-Chief, in her Editor’s letter. There is also the feature on the country’s new ski resort, Shahdag. “Sure, it’s not Les Trois Vallees”, the article says. But you can still tuck into Tskian, “the Azerbaijani equivalent of a French alpine tartiflette”. While it is far from the only country to indulge in a bit of self-promotion, the idea of selling Azerbaijan as a modern, glamorous it-spot, seems to permeate the whole publication to a slightly comical extent. But considering they have in the past hired western PR companies to help polish the country’s international image, I guess this is to be expected.

It is further reflected in the editorial staff, filled with Darrens, Marias, Carolines and Simons. For a magazine about Azerbaijan, it doesn’t seem to have many actual Azerbaijanis working for it. Granted, supply might be a bit sparse, as there are a number of journalists among the country’s (at least) 142 political prisoners. Perhaps potential employees are afraid of being blackmailed, like investigative journalist Khadija Ismayilova? Or brutally attacked, like reporter Idrak Abbasov? Or maybe it’s because most of Azerbaijan’s media is otherwise engaged in state-controlled media?

Anyway, it is not surprising that a magazine called Baku, whose USP is Azerbaijan, focuses on all things, well, Azerbaijan. Some tenuous links are drawn, like the article suggesting that jewellery designer to the stars Loree Rodkin’s new collection will be inspired by Azerbaijan, essentially based on nice things she said at an exhibition in Baku. The interview with musical prodigy Nazrin Rashidova, who was born in the country, is only really jarring if you know that musicians, like Jamal Ali, who have dared criticise President Aliyev have allegedly been tortured by the police.

However, there are sections that seem to leave all pretence at the door, and go full on into that strange subtle-yet-obvious mode of PR-managed propaganda. The eight-page ode to Baku’s controversial beautification and modernisation project, under the guise of an interview with designer behind much of it, is issue 10’s most striking example. In fawning terms, it discusses the type of urban renewal that saw houses demolished and families evicted in the lead-up to the Eurovision Song Contest, hosted in the capital in 2012. We also get previews of yet-to-be unveiled treats. The Port Baku development, opening this spring, “is set to become the city’s premier luxury address” with “flagship stores from the world’s leading fashion brands” and exclusive apartments with “access to a 3000sq m leisure club and spa”. There are also plans to transform “a former power station complex into three destination restaurants and a nightclub.” And it goes on and on. A separate article announces the opening of the Fairmont hotel in one of the city’s Flame Towers. The 36-floor hotel will boast “Baku’s first French Bistro”.

It’s a dedicated effort to shift international attention away from corruption, poverty and the continuing attacks on human rights. But while this attempt to paint Azerbaijan as a harmonious and modern hot-spot might work for some, juxtaposed against the actual goings-on in the country, Baku magazine also manages to highlight the vast gulf between the life the regime and its elite circles lead, and the struggle of those fighting for democracy. In some ways, it is a very tangible symbol of the two Azerbaijans.

To buy a copy of the autumn issue of Index on Censorship, featuring work by some of Azerbaijan’s most brave photojournalists, click here

This article was published on 20 Dec, 2013 at indexoncensorship.org

China marks Mandela’s death with no mention of “freedom” or “democracy”

The City of Cape Town launched the Nelson Mandela Legacy Exhibition to honour his contribution to South Africa's democracy. The exhibiton is a collection of historic photographs and visuals capturing significant moments in Mandela's life. (Photo: Sumaya Hisham / Demotix)

The City of Cape Town launched the Nelson Mandela Legacy Exhibition to honour his contribution to South Africa’s democracy. The exhibiton is a collection of historic photographs and visuals capturing significant moments in Mandela’s life. (Photo: Sumaya Hisham / Demotix)

Chinese coverage of Nelson Mandela’s death has reflected the government’s new-found sympathy for Maoism, its rejection of democracy and its long-standing sensitivities over Tibet and Taiwan.

When Nelson Mandela died, the official statement from President Xi Jinping praised Mandela as “an accomplished politician of global standing,” while state-owned China Central Television described him as “an old friend of China”.

This was to be a precursor for the following day’s censorship — which banned coverage referencing “freedom”,“democracy”, Mandela’s Nobel Peace Prize and foreign policy hot topics Tibet and Taiwan.

While President Xi Jinping did not attend Mandela’s funeral himself, his Vice President Li Yunchao did, and was booed by crowds as he made his memorial speech.

Xi commented on Mandela’s bright smile, called him a “towering figure” and “an old friend of China”. There was no mention of “freedom” or “democracy”.

In an op-ed for CNN, deputy director of Asia division for Human Rights Watch Phelim Kene argued that the deliberate omissions in official statements, as well as the selective censorship policy, was a ploy to distract attention away from China’s own Nobel Peace Prize-winning freedom and democracy activist, Liu Xiaobo.

In 2009, democracy activist Liu was charged with inciting subversion and sentenced to 11 years in prison. His name has since been banned from Chinese micro-blogging sites, although the state-owned Chinese newspaper Global Times broke the ban recently to issue a seething counter-West editorial, accusing American editors of falsely painting Liu as “China’s Mandela”.

According to The Global Times, outlets like The Washington Post, New York Times and CNN had deliberately focused on the imprisonment of Liu in an attempt to foster unrest.

An op-ed argued that “Mandela was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for leading African people to anti-apartheid victory through struggle, tolerance and efforts to bridge differences,” while Liu had “confronted authorities” and “was dealt with under strict legal procedures. This system ensures that a society of 1.3 billion people runs smoothly.” The piece also argued that “mainstream Chinese society” had rejected Liu’s campaign for democracy.

Yet the circumstances of two men’s imprisonment remain remarkably similar. Mandela was charged and sentenced after he helped produce South Africa’s pro-democracy “Freedom Charter”. Liu, similarly, is one of the activists who drafted “Charter ‘08”, a manifesto for Chinese democracy. Families of both men were persecuted by the state and censorship departments in both countries attempted to remove all mention of the dissenters from the media (including previously written works).

Promotion of Mao’s legacy seems to be Xi Jinping’s communications strategy of choice — and it appears Mandela’s death has been co-opted into this “Maoisation” of Chinese politics. State press releases asserted that Mandela had read Mao’s “Little Red Book” while imprisoned on Robben Island, as well as describing himself as a “student of Mao”.

Mandela was certainly  a fan of Mao, though principally for his military strategies rather than his later domestic policies. In a TIME Magazine interview, he praised the tactics used during the “Long March”, as well as his “determination and non-traditional thinking,” which Mandela briefly noted in his autobiography Long Walk to Freedom.

Overall, the Chinese press complied with censorship restrictions to censor the words “freedom” and “democracy” from accounts of Mandela’s life and death, as well as steering clear of Tibet and Taiwan, both contentious foreign policy issues that Mandela had previously weighed in on. Under his presidency, South Africa cut off ties with Taiwan over its previous support for Apartheid, and in favour of Communist mainland China.

Mandela had also met with the Dalai Lama on several occasions, who issued a video tribute to Mandela. The Tibetan leader has been refused a visa to visit South Africa twice in the last four years, regarded by many as an attempt not to risk diplomatic relations with China.

A dictat from China’s Foreign Ministry also attempted to censor “posts and comments on Weibo that take advantage of Mandela’s funeral to attack our political system and state leaders”, ordering offending content to be deleted immediately.

Property tycoon Ren Zhiqiang commented on Weibo: “Because he was a fighter — for all his life— for democracy, equality and peace and harmony, he is now an icon of all these.” Another user, from Shanxi, wrote “A great leader, rest in peace.”

Some Weibo users employed sarcasm to express their views. In response to philanthropist Fan Wei asking “Will China have its own Mandela?” one user replied, “Heroes only appear in turbulent times. In our ‘harmonious’ homeland, there is no use for Mandelas.” Another simply said, “They are in prison.”

“Old friend?” another user mocked. “He pursued justice, fairness and freedom. Does he have anything to do with you? Don’t blow your own trumpet.”

Notably, the so-called “New Left” Maoists reacted hotly to the government’s comparisons, with Weibo messages strongly in favour of Mao Zedong over Mandela.

“India’s Gandhi and South Africa’s Mandela were great. But Chairman Mao surpassed them all,” said one.

Another commented, “Mandela had bowed to racism. His consideration of the Tibetan independence movement as a human rights movement was a big, big mistake. He is a banana with dark skin.”

The death of Mandela has also resurrected an unlikely pop song from the 1990s. The Hong Kong-based band Beyond surged back into the charts with their song “Glorious Days”, reaching number one after almost a decade of hiatus.

“Glorious Days” had already achieved chart success in the post-Tiananmen era, when many were afraid to discuss political issues. Released in the midst of a music scene that mainly comprised of love songs, the Cantonese pop band achieved record sales with a song about racial equality, which was dedicated to Nelson Mandela.

This article was published on 19 Dec, 2013 at indexoncensorship.org