09 Aug 13 | Kenya, News and features, Religion and Culture
(Photo: Courtesy Boniface Mwangi)
Boniface Mwangi is an award winning Kenyan photographer and activist. During the 2007 post-election skirmishes he took thousands of photos. His coverage of those attacks entailed great danger as, more often than not, he had to falsify his ethnic identity. In 2009 he founded Picha Mtaani, the first-ever street exhibition in Kenya which was held in towns across the country, showcasing the post election violence photographs to a wider audience beyond Nairobi.
Mwangi has been recognized as a Magnum Photography Fellow, Acumen Fund East Africa Fellow, TED Fellow, and twice as the CNN Multichoice Africa Photojournalist of the Year, among other awards. He currently runs Pawa 254, a collaborative hub for creatives in Kenya. Mwangi recently received the Prince Claus Award 2012 and is now a senior TED fellow.
Mwangi was interviewed by Index on Censorship Head of Arts Julia Farrington at an arts event in Ethiopia in July.
Index: How would you describe Kenyan government’s position on freedom of expression?
Mwangi: Recently the president and deputy president had a media breakfast and invited all the top editors and bloggers, writers at the state house to a meeting. This is unheard of, it has never happened before. The new government is being advised by a British firm advising – it was actually the same firm that advised the US government on how to deal with insurgency in Afghanistan. They are a very smart PR company, they know how to package lies and make it look like the truth, they know how to package crap and sell it to the electorate. At the moment there is a communication bill that is going through parliament which goes against freedom of speech and when they met, the media said they want self-regulation, they don’t want to be regulated by the state.
But beyond this censorship in Kenya is by choice – it is because of the owner’s business interest; they don’t upset the system because they are going to lose business, lose money. The biggest advertisers in the country are the government and the bigger corporations. Editors know as long as they go on the path of truth, they won’t sell advertising space. They spend so much money on advertising – so it is more self-censorship than anything else.
Kenyan journalists are poorly paid. They are paid by story and the money is very little which makes them easy to be bribed, corruptible. If you work in the rural area you have no transport and to get around you rely on the local police to give you a ride or the local politician or drug lord and you get compromised in the process. I worked for five years I know how it works there is a lot of brown envelopes exchanging hands, depending on who is who. And sadly no-one talks about corruption in the media.
Index: You are saying media is compromised but it is essentially independent?
Mwangi: It is independent – there is very little government interference. It’s almost non-existent – they know the media is controlled by interest. Not a single journalist is in jail at the moment. In the previous government there were a lot of libel suits that were awarded to politicians, actually a ridiculous amount of money was involved, but that has stopped.
The other thing is the emergence of bloggers and citizen journalists who can write about anything, which is actually a good and a bad thing because they can write about rumours and attack people’s lives. But sometimes they can become an alternative channel for communication. I have seen a lot of stories that have not made it into the mainstream media, but if you go on line or if you buy the tabloids, it may be exaggerated but there may be some truth in it.
Index: How would you describe the Kenyan’s people’s appetite for freedom of expression?
Mwangi: Kenyan people do not want to fight for their freedoms, they want activists to do it for them, so it is only a minority who are fighting for these rights. There is this wait and see approach on these issues, and it hurts the whole country. Kenyans have all grown up with parents who told them, don’t protest you are going to get arrested, and that fear has been carried out to this generation. There is the lock in the mind of Kenyan people that says we can’t do this, it isn’t possible it is too scary, too daring and dangerous to do it. If you don’t overcome that fear it is going to be passed on to my kids and my kids’ kids so that is what we are trying to do, to give people courage. Our acts of courage are trying to get the people to protest and resist injustices with confidence that nothing bad will happen to them.
Index: You believe doing very extreme, provocative actions is the right way?
Mwangi: We are always going for the shock effect. The shock effect says that if they can do that then other people can do some smaller than that. It has an influence – if I can do it you can do it.
Index: You don’t think it alienates? People could say those guys are crazy?
Mwangi: I don’t think many people think we are crazy – maybe some upper class people and some politicians. But the people understand where we are coming from and they understand our anger and given the chance they would also do extreme things, but they are actually afraid.
Index: Do you think that part of what you need to do is to test the boundaries of the law especially in the context of the new constitution?
Mwangi: We need to do that for Kenyans because we have some over-zealous police officers who arrest and charging people using non-existent laws . So it is important that people understand their rights. And the police should be educated on the bill of rights so that they don’t infringe on Kenyan’s rights.
Index: Some say freedom is a luxury, let’s get people housed and educated first and then let’s turn our minds to freedom of expression. What do you think?
Mwangi: Education is a term that is used very loosely. Many Kenyans are very full of wisdom and they have never been to school. So when you are talking about education you are talking about western standards of how people get educated – more education in what they call the ‘good life’ that isn’t going to change anything.
Freedom is good – it gives human beings dignity, with freedom you can do what you want – it means you can challenge authority, you can give feedback to the government about how you feel. So if you look at a dictatorship most of them stagnate because there is only one thinker amongst a population of many people. That one thinker cannot be omnipresent then you find that there is a shortage of ideas and a want of thinking. So freedom of expression is key to life and to democracy. It has to be there at the start – it is like life.
Index: This space which you have created – is it for a planning space for activists? Or it’s a public space? Or it’s both.
Mwangi: It is a space for creatives where we people share plan events, protest, a place where people discuss. So it’s a place where you can come in any time and discuss, read a book, come in anytime and do a grafitti or just chill or read a book. It’s called PAWA 254. Creatives, activists, journalists and film-makers, guys and women who are like minded who have a real job or a real career but they want a place where they can come and meet like-minded people and discuss.
It is open every day, we plan for it to be open 24 hours per day. And the debate nights are every Tuesday and other days we have different activities where we train activists, photographers, animators or cartoonists – different trainings going on at any given time.
Index: The authorities know you are there. Do they let you get on with it?
Mwangi: The thing is we have a very progressive constitution if you come to my property they need to have a search warrant or a warrant for my arrest. They can’t just come and ask questions. They have to read me my rights. That is actually something that doesn’t happen in this continent but Kenya has a very progressive constitution, which if everything was working could make it a beacon of democracy and human rights.
07 Aug 13 | Africa, Digital Freedom, Index Reports, News and features, Politics and Society, Religion and Culture, South Africa
(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)
Though the shackles of apartheid and the public role of Nelson Mandela have faded, South Africa is confronting questions about government surveillance in the digital era, media regulation and artistic censorship.
Apartheid in South Africa (1948-1994) was partially kept in place with restrictions on the flow of information. The state attempted to draw a veil of secrecy over the intensification of repression through detention without trial, house arrests and the torture and killing of opponents from the 1960s onwards. Music and literature were among the modes of anti-apartheid resistance from the 1960s onwards. Literature and music supportive of political opposition or that was deemed sexually permissive was banned. Some journalists, authors and musicians left the country to escape prosecution while many who stayed were persecuted. Television was only allowed in the country in the mid-1970s and only when the then ruling National Party was convinced it could control the medium.
The transition to democracy in the 1990s under Mandela marked a radical departure, with openness and transparency declared primary aims. Clause 16 of the Bill of Rights in the South African Constitution of 1996 guarantees that “everyone has the right to freedom of expression, which includes freedom of the press and other media; freedom to receive or impart information or ideas; freedom of artistic creativity; and academic freedom and freedom of scientific research.” However, this right is not absolute. The same clause warns that it “does not extend to propaganda for war, incitement of imminent violence; or advocacy of hatred that is based on race, ethnicity, gender or religion, and that constitutes incitement to cause harm.” Clause 14 (d) of the Bill of Rights safeguards the right to privacy, including the right not to have the privacy of communications infringed.
South Africa’s adoption of the right to freedom of expression in its Constitution is reflected in a lively national debate as democracy takes root. However, as pundits claim the space to hold to account the government and, less frequently, business, the past five years have seen worrying moves against free expression. These range from verbal threats to legislative measures to the irregular arrest of a journalist. Protesters have also targeted journalists at community-level demonstrations about socio-economic rights.
Media Freedom
Four large corporations dominate South Africa’s print media sector, which limits diversity in opinion. While the sector has been battling plunging circulation figures, as elsewhere in the world, it has still managed to invest in investigative journalism, which remains vibrant. Art and related types of journalism have however suffered from a lack of resources. The media stand at the centre of vehement political debates in the country, with newspaper leaks common in the infighting between factions of the ruling African National Congress (ANC). The combination of political and investigative exposures has led to ANC threats of appointing a “media tribunal” to replace the system of self-regulation. In response, the media funded a public consultation process, and a new system has been instituted which remains self-regulatory but includes more mechanisms to allow greater accountability of the press to the public. However, the ANC has decided that the country’s parliament should still investigate the creation of a media tribunal “that is empowered to impose sanctions without the loss of any constitutional rights”.
The Protection of State Information Bill was adopted by parliament this year, despite concerted resistance from a wide range of organisations and individuals. The bill, driven by state security agencies, is expected to undermine access to state information and inhibit investigative journalism. Revisions did not address its draconian penalties of up to 25 years or the overly narrow scope of its belatedly included public interest clause. In a significant improvement, however, the bill no longer overrides the Protection of Access to Information Act or the Protected Disclosures Act, both passed in 2000.
Recent changes in print media ownership have seen the Independent Newspapers (former Argus) group returned by the Irish company Independent News and Media (INM) to South African control. While INM is generally regarded as having “harvested” the Independent Newspapers and thereby stunting its growth in South Africa, the acquisition by Sekunjalo has raised concerns about political control as business allies of the ruling party are involved in the deal.
Most South Africans remain dependent on television and especially radio for information. The state-owned South African Broadcasting Corporation (SABC) remains the dominant TV and radio outlet with its programming in all 11 languages. However, the SABC has been riddled with management battles and repeated allegations of political interference, which included the blacklisting of commentators critical of the government.
Digital Freedom
After a good start in the 1990s when Internet use was commercialised in South Africa, tardy and expensive broadband has slowed connectivity. Recent research suggests that 39 percent of adults, or 14 million people, access the Internet at least once a week. Another study found that a relatively high percentage of South Africans use mobile phone services (66 percent). According to the 2011 government census, half of those who use the Internet use their mobiles to do so, as only about 23 percent of households have a computer at home. Internet service providers believe this number would be higher if mobile broadband prices were more competitive. While mobile broadband is more affordable and faster than fixed-line services, prepaid mobile customers pay more than contract customers, which means poorer people have less access.
Regarding government measures, the Regulation of Interception of Communications and Provision of Communication-Related Information Act of 2002 (RICA) requires service providers to record and keep customer information, which can be requested by government agencies. The act disallows interception of communication, subject to judicial approval. Similarly, a judge has to grant permission before government agencies can access mobile phone records.
The Right2Know (R2K) civil society campaign in 2012 mobilised against the General Intelligence Laws Amendment Bill, which would have empowered state-security operatives to monitor e-mails and social media communication without permission from a judge. While this expansion of powers was avoided, R2K pointed out that the final version of the bill still did not provide clarity regarding the monitoring of electronic communication passing through a foreign server. The Mail and Guardian newspaper has reported on the illegal bugging of private citizens’ communication. Security agencies’ illegal monitoring of communications has become a weapon between factions in the ruling party. In the most notorious case, the ascendancy of the current president, Jacob Zuma, to the highest office was clinched with the withdrawal of corruption charges against him on the basis of “spy tapes”. These recordings, seemingly illegally made, allegedly showed a political plot against Zuma that involved the National Prosecuting Authority. Interceptions by the police’s crime intelligence divisions rose sharply between 2009 and 2010, including illegal bugging that led to the recent resignation of the head of the South African Revenue Services for attempting to recruit someone in return for sexual favours. Meanwhile, the implications are unclear of the National Cyber Security Policy that the ANC wants the government to adopt by 2014 to prevent the distribution of “harmful and anti-social” content.
Artistic Freedom
Artists have enjoyed unprecedented freedom to be creative in South Africa since the transition to democracy. However, political tensions have risen about art seen as ridiculing Zuma. In 2012, Brett Murray’s painting called “The Spear” was exhibited at a Johannesburg art gallery, depicting Zuma in a well-known pose of Communist leader Vladimir Lenin but with his genitals exposed. ANC leaders pressurised the gallery by leading a march of ANC supporters to its doors. Two men defaced the painting while on display.
An amendment in 2009 to the Film and Publications Act of 1996 that every unregistered print and online publication that contains sexual content be submitted for classification by the Film and Publications Board has since been declared unconstitutional by the High Court. The Constitutional Court still has to confirm the High Court’s decision. The board has been skittish about films depicting teenagers in sexual situations, whether consensual or forced. In 2008 it banned the Argentinian film “XXY” and this year it banned the South African film “Of Good Report” on the basis of being “child pornography”. Both bans have since been overturned.
This article was originally published on 7 Aug, 2013 at indexoncensorship.org. Index on Censorship: The voice of free expression
25 Jul 13 | Volume 42.02 Summer 2013
Writer and artist Htoo Lyin Myo gives his personal account of working under government censorship in Burma
I became familiar with censorship as a boy in the 1990s, when certain pages of the monthly magazines I read were covered with black ink, which censorship officials manually brushed over printed words. The paragraphby- paragraph, line-by-line ink-covered pages made me curious, so I would place them on a lit-up surface in order to have a peek. Indeed, the hidden words covered with ink criticised government economic policy or local businessmen.
But when the ink was changed from black to silver, I could hardly see those hidden words: it was a totally hidden, reflective surface, like metallic camouflage.
Burma’s notorious censorship developed alongside the dictatorship, a government that created the 1962 Printers’ and Publishers’ Registration Act. So censorship is ‘the problem child’ of the dictatorship. Currently, Burma has nine laws that provide for censorship both directly and indirectly, including the Electronic Transactions Law (2004). It carries with it a penalty of up to 15 years’ imprisonment for internet users who receive email messages that are deemed to be detrimental to the security of the state.
From about 2005, browsing the internet became part of my daily routine. Low-speed internet connection, which continues today, made it difficult to access information.
In addition, though, a great number of websites were banned, including the BBC, Voice of America (VOA) and Radio Free Asia (RFA). At that time, most of my friends who used the internet exchanged proxy website addresses in order to access government-banned websites. Hardly anyone was astonished when, in 2009, the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) ranked Burma the worst country in the world to be a blogger.
As the decade went on, I internalised the censorship I experienced in my journalistic career.
FROM INDEX ON CENSORSHIP MAGAZINE
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This article appears in the current issue of Index on Censorship, available now. For subscription options and to download the app for your iPhone/iPad, click here.
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Weekly journals were required to submit samples to the Press Scrutiny and Registration Division (PSRD) of the Ministry of Information before publication. So a full-page translated article about the Dalai Lama was banned. A so-called PR clerk, a post appointed in every publishing house to deal with the PSRD, sent the article back, telling me to ‘substitute’ it with another ‘lighter’ one. This happened on the day of our deadline and the team, like so many others in the media business, had to pull the front page at the last minute.
I experienced censorship, too, when it came to my work as a performance artist. At one of the international performance festivals held in Rangoon, local and international artists were scrutinised by an army of censorship board officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Homeland Affairs, the Ministry of Information and so on. Artists had to queue to be granted permission to perform and officials checked each participant artist’s materials, making sure their chosen colours and ‘ideas’ complied with guidelines to protect the ‘security of the state’. If officials suspected that an artist’s materials might go against the ‘will’ of the state, these materials were prohibited and the artist banned from using them. In addition to jeopardising the security of the state, artwork and materials could be banned on grounds of religion (offending Buddhism, mainly) or for posing a threat to law and order.
If an artwork was deemed to be critical of the state or going against its ‘will’, an artist could be completely rejected and denied permission to exhibit or perform that particular work. In order to avoid including anti-social materials in their art, artists often had to self-censor, imagining a potential ‘justification’ for banning pieces prior to the ‘permission hearing’. In 2008, I took part in a clandestine international performance festival held in a compound in a countryside township an hour outside of Rangoon. The event was moved there after local authorities denied permission for it to take place in a public park in the city.
Visiting foreign artists also had to practise self-censorship. During a workshop in 2009, a renowned Chinese artist originally suggested participants walk down the streets of Rangoon, pointing to the sun with their index fingers. Later, he rejected this performance art idea because, in Burma, the sun, ne in Burmese, implicitly refers to the late dictator Ne Win. The artist said he ‘understood’ why the activity might be refused and decided to withdraw it from the workshop.
Self-censorship evolved in the print media in a superficially different way: if the PSRD was known to reject a certain kind of front-page headline, journalists and editors made changes before submitting them for approval. However, occasionally a newspaper’s once-rejected headline could, with luck, be approved upon its second submission to the censor board, so journalists often kept this in mind when planning headlines.
After the 2010 elections – perhaps as a reaction to widespread accusations that the election was rigged – some subjects covered in the print media, including sport, health and entertainment, did not require censor officials’ approval prior to publication. News stories and articles about politics and religion, however, were still required to be submitted for approval. Leading print media companies seldom faced week-long publication bans for subversive stories on front pages, but journals could be subject to defamation lawsuits – and this law still exists today.
Since September 2011, formerly banned websites VoA, BBC Burmese and RFA have been accessible, as have the websites of some Burmese exiled media outlets like Irrawaddy and Democratic Voice of Burma. The latter are popular among the Burmese middle class because of their critical insight into the military government. With a handful of amnesties for journalists, activists, whistleblowers and bloggers, who had been given sentences of decades-long prison terms, the Burmese media environment has become more relaxed.
Almost overnight it became possible to report on land seizures for state projects like dams or for use by regional military bases, or on workers’ protests against unjust wages and corruption. Yet the silence around taboo subjects has not altogether lifted.
In terms of democracy, Burma is in its infancy. Freedom of speech is not 100 percent guaranteed. And government cronies have their eyes on the print media as a viable market they can control and which will earn them a nice profit. In Burma, the ruling party owns one of the most prominent daily newspapers and crony businessmen own a number of weekly and monthly journals.
The last time I confronted pressure from local authorities was after I joined a temporary art space called 7000 Padauk in March 2013. On the second day of opening, a group of ward-level authorities ordered those wanting to enter the space to formally check in, resulting in a dispute with artists. The ward official insisted it was illegal to use the premises for such events, demanded to know who the owner was, asked for information about planned events, the names of those involved, and so on. I have witnessed firsthand that people on both sides – those who rule and those who are ruled over – still engage in a process of ‘bargaining’. A free space like 7000 Padauk is very much needed at this time of so-called transition for Burma. But when I arrive there, I still look over my shoulder.
©Htoo Lwin Myo
Htoo Lwin Myo is a journalist, translator and artist living and working in Rangoon. His translation of a biography of the Dalai Lama, the first of its kind to be published in Burmese, was published in 2012
15 Jul 13 | Burma
“In the past political art was very easy – ‘this government is bullshit’ – but now due to the transition period and role of Aung San Suu Kyi in government it’s more complex, people are wary of making sweeping statements.”[21]
The abolition of pre-censorship in the print media has created a more widespread relaxation of pre-censorship including for other artistic forms. Artists were clear that the situation had improved significantly since the beginning of the transition, in particular there was more freedom to criticise the military and the USDP. One clear indicator of the greater openness was demonstrated by The Art of Transition symposium co-produced by Zarganar’s company HOME (House of Media and Entertainment) and Index. The symposium, which was a licensed event, was the first cross art form debate about artistic freedom of expression in the country.
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