1 Feb 2014 | News and features, Politics and Society, Zambia
(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)
By Paul Carlucci for Think Africa Press, an online magazine that offers commentary and in-depth analysis from leading African and international thinkers.
Lusaka, Zambia: A little over two years ago, when Michael Sata was campaigning for Zambia’s top office, he promised that, if elected, he would finally bring to an end a decade of abandoned legal reform and deliver the country a definitive new constitution. Not only that, but he would do it within 90 days of taking power.
Sata’s election campaign was successful, and soon after taking office in September 2011, the new president − along with his Patriotic Front (PF) government − tasked a committee of lawyers and academics with drafting the document.
Things soon slowed down however, and it is only now − several shrugged-off deadlines later − that Zambia seems to be nearing the completion of its constitutional process. Though that’s not to say things are necessarily moving smoothly. In December 2013, the government blocked the constitutional committee from releasing its final draft to the public, insisting it be sent to the government alone, while allegations have emerged that Sata has changed his mind about Zambia’s need for a new constitution, believing instead that the existing one can simply be amended.
The government has rejected these claims, asserting that Sata’s commitment to a new constitution remains “unshakeable”, and his two-year-old promise continues to loom large in the psyche of an increasingly outraged brigade of critics. After the 2014 budget revealed a skew of alarming numbers and the global rating agency Fitch downgraded the country’s credit rating, the PF’s economic success story lost its celebrated momentum, leaving it with little more than a narrative of heavy-handed autocracy.
Many of the government’s opponents have closed in on the constitution as a panacea for all that ails the country, a movement that culminated in a major demonstration at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in Lusaka and which took a sensational twist on 15 January when the outspoken Zambian Watchdog published what it claims is a leak of the final draft.
A torrent of official statements followed as the drafting committee denied originating the leak, the police vowed to clamp down on what they termed a ‘cybercrime’, and the government vowed to track down and punish the perpetrators of the leak. The cabinet, which is meant to be deliberating the final draft, also claimed it hasn’t yet received its copies of the document.
Talking the talk
While the authenticity of the leaked constitution is uncertain, it doesn’t stray far from the publicly available first draft, or even from previous drafts commissioned under past administrations. Zambia’s electoral system is addressed, requiring candidates to garner over 50% of the vote to hold presidential office, while parliament would be composed of members elected through a combination of first-past-the-post and proportional representation.
The draft Bill of Rights − which includes classical first generation rights as well as social, economic and cultural rights − is also more clearly articulated than it is in the existing constitution, and it seems to be these protections, more than technical changes to governance structure, that the opposition is longing for. They complain that their protests have been menaced by police and ruling party thugs, that critical media outlets have been persecuted by the government, and that the general population, especially outside the capital Lusaka, slogs through a life of poverty, illiteracy and environmental degradation.
Indeed, tackling these problems is crucial, but here’s the rub: there’s more than enough substance in the existing constitution to transform human rights in the country. That’s not the issue. The real problem is that successive administrations, including those headed by members of the now opposition Movement for Multiparty Democracy (MMD), simply cast off their legal responsibilities when it suits them. What needs to be tackled is Zambia’s tradition of impunity, which dates all the way back to the era of its independence president, Kenneth Kaunda.
When Zambia was granted independence in 1964, it started its new life with a multiparty framework, led by Kaunda’s United National Independence Party (UNIP), which had won 55 of 75 seats in the pre-independence elections. But this wasn’t to last. In 1972, keen outmanoeuvre political opponents both inside and outside the ruling party, Kaunda banned all political parties apart from UNIP. In 1973, he formalised one-party rule in a new constitution that also that consolidated state power in the president’s office.
It was only 18 years later when Zambia was choked by debt and was facing mounting pressure from the international community that Kaunda commissioned a hasty legal review. That move led to the establishment of the 1991 constitution and multiparty elections that brought MMD leader Fredrick Chiluba to power.
Not a lot has changed since then, despite the reform commissions that have been mandated, the reports that have been produced, and the many amendments proposed. One amendment that has been passed was a provision barring candidates with foreign parentage from running for the presidency. Chiluba, assisted by Sata, who was then a member of the MMD, managed to force through this provision in 1996, effectively blocking Kaunda, whose father was born in neighbouring Malawi, from returning. The amendment still exists today, but the kinds of reforms that would hold leaders more closely to account have remained elusive.
A tradition of impunity
However, in many ways, the existing constitution does a lot of things right. It contains all the baseline requisites such as human dignity, equality before the law, protection from inhuman treatment, freedom from slavery, and freedoms of religion and expression. It also explicitly protects young people from various forms of exploitation. And under the Directive Principles of State Policy section, its clauses address employment, shelter, disability, and education. It does use some derogatory language, but so too do the current drafts of the new constitution.
The problem is that despite these legal mandates, correctional facilities are overcrowded and access to justice fails many prisoners in remand; there’s a long track record of beating, arresting, and criminally charging journalists, civil society leaders, and political figures who criticise government; poverty is endemic in rural areas, where education and healthcare facilities are also inadequate and the means of pursuing a gainful livelihood are largely absent.
When it comes to social and economic rights, many developing countries explain their failures in terms of cost. How can a poor nation like Zambia be expected to improve the lot of its direly undeveloped rural areas? How can it extend its meagre health and educational resources that far? How can it afford what human rights theorists call ‘positive rights’, those measures that require government action to protect and maintain?
Part of the answer is to dam the ever-bubbling backwaters of corruption, which divert enormous sums from the country’s development agenda. While corruption charges and trials do occur – usually motivated by political reasons – leaders from Chiluba to Sata have done little to substantively affect the diversion of public money from development to private bank accounts, while Chiluba in particular oversaw the country’s most notorious chapter of embezzlement.
Steak on the table
In the short term, real change won’t emerge from the government’s legal apparatus. It will have to come from outside. Protesting Zambians have chalked up victories before, as when public demonstrations played a role in dissuading Chiluba from seeking an unconstitutional third term. And if NGOs, beleaguered though they are by looming registration reforms, were to focus their efforts on mobilising not just urban Zambians, but also those people living in undeveloped areas, more tangible results could be achieved.
But it’s not just a case of focusing their efforts. It’s a case of refocusing them. The fight for a new and improved constitution is certainly a worthy one, but civil society organisations have made a holy grail of constitutional reform, as if delivery will automatically slacken the state’s grip on an array of levers it freely abuses, from stacking the judiciary with supporters to deploying waves of violent thugs in by-election campaigns.
The current opposition, meanwhile, is only too pleased to ally itself with activists, but given the MMD’s own history of unjust governance, the teaming up is clearly for self-serving reasons. Rather than giving politicians such an elevated podium from which to reinvent themselves, civil society would do better to zero in on specific rights violations and protest those on the same scale as they do constitutional reform.
The other piece of this puzzle is the international community. That’s a difficult prescription for a continent whose leaders routinely play their populations against what they frame as foreign interference, but sustained pressure from multilateral organisations able to reference even the current set of constitutional guarantees would help consolidate demands made in the streets.
None of this is to say that robust laws can’t lay the groundwork for a future of mature, responsive governance. A strong legal framework, no matter its current irrelevance, will make for useful terms of reference in a more developed future, and human rights theorists habitually point to ambitious laws as key components to equitable progress. Indeed, what is a pie in the sky today could very well become steak on the plate tomorrow. The point is that it will take more than a good-looking tablecloth to make that happen.
This article was originally published on 21 January 2014 at Think Africa Press and is reposted here by permission.
Paul Carlucci is a Canadian writer and journalist based in Lusaka, Zambia. He has reported from Ghana and Ivory Coast for Think Africa Press, IPS Africa, Al Jazeera English, the Toronto Star, and the Toronto Standard. His collection of short stories ‘The Secret Life of Fission’ is available through Oberon Press. Follow him on twitter @PaulCarlucci.
29 Jan 2014 | Digital Freedom, News and features, Politics and Society, Religion and Culture
The revelations by Edward Snowden last June about massive, unaccountable surveillance by the US National Security Agency (NSA) and its British counterpart GCHQ have raised one vital question. Is there a global right of privacy? If so, what form might it take?
In November 2013, Kenneth Roth, the executive director of Human Rights Watch, argued in favour of a global human right of privacy. “All [governments] should acknowledge a global obligation to protect everyone’s privacy, clarify the limits on their own surveillance practices (including surveillance of people outside their own borders), and ensure they don’t trade mass surveillance data to evade their own obligations.”
Fundamental to this discussion is the role technology has played in outpacing legal oversight. In April 2013, the report of the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression had one express focus: To examine “the implications of states’ surveillance of communications in the exercise of the human rights to privacy and to freedom of opinion and expression.” In the Rapporteur’s view, it was clear that the march of technology, with its move to low cost mobile communications as opposed to previous fixed-line methods had “increased opportunities for state surveillance and interventions into individuals’ private communications.” Borderless surveillance has become a reality.
In their remarkable article on privacy in the Harvard Law Review of 1890, Louis D. Brandeis and Samuel D. Warren argued that, “The press is overstepping in every direction the obvious bounds of propriety and decency. Gossip is no longer the resource of the idle and the vicious, but has become a trade”. Through sharp, analogical reasoning, the jurists decided that grounds for a civil wrong in breaching privacy might be found. The law had to keep pace with the type of technology involved. In their times, it was the telegraph.
International law accepts that a right to privacy exists and should be protected. Article 12 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) makes it explicit. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, through Article 17, has the same effect. Article 8 of the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms has spawned rich jurisprudence on the subject. The Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development, and the Council of Europe, have various guidelines and protocols in place for data protection.
That said, common law countries such as Britain and Australia have shown a reluctance to find a genuine civil wrong when someone’s privacy is violated. Preference is given to finding a breach of confidence. In the United States, there is a reasonable expectation under the Fourth Amendment that one’s privacy will be protected, though it has no application to foreigners. Civil code countries have shown a greater willingness to identify the human body as inviolable before unwarranted interference.
Analysts have argued that a protected global right to privacy is urgent because the global surveillance state has itself become a reality. It is not merely sufficient to restrain through warrant and judicial control the actions of the NSA regarding American citizens. As David Cole of the Georgetown University Law Centre argues (Just Security, Oct 29, 2013), focus must lie beyond the limited social contract between US government and its citizens. The rights of non-US citizens to privacy, in other words, extra-territorial rights, matter. Privacy rights are transnational issues, requiring transnational measures of protection.
In the United States, President Barack Obama has at least acknowledged the globalised nature of the surveillance problem, and the need for global protections that consider the rights of non-US citizens as well. His latest suggestions can be found in Presidential Policy Directive 28 (PPD-28.
A notable feature in PPD-28 is the restriction on monitoring foreign citizens, which might be termed the “Merkel” clause after it was revealed that the German Chancellor’s phone was being monitored by the NSA. Section 4 of PPD-28 also serves to create the machinery by which the US will form a “point of contact for foreign governments who wish to raise concerns regarding signals intelligence activities conducted by the United States.”
In these proposals, Obama fails, as executive director of Amnesty International USA Steven W. Hawkins explains, to accept “the abusive nature of mass surveillance or put international human rights standards at the centre of US policy”. They do not so much curtail surveillance as simply limit aspects of its reach. Executive Order 12333 still affords Obama powers to authorise surveillance programs without judicial review. The law is still kept at arm’s length.
The normalisation of Stasiland is the great feature of the twenty first century – no political system has been spared that, largely because the technological means have outpaced the legal regulations. A collective of some 500 writers, among them Margaret Atwood, Martin Amis, and Don DeLillo, have argued via a petition in December 2013 that, “A person under surveillance is no longer free; a society under surveillance is no longer a democracy. To maintain any validity, our democratic rights must apply in virtual as in real space.” It is time to consider not merely limits to the bulk surveillance, but enforceable obligations on the part of states to abide by a global rule on privacy.
This article was posted on 29 January 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
20 Jan 2014 | Events
Index invites you to Dilemmas, Debates, Demands and Drinks a candid discussion about working with freedom of expression.
Where: Free Word Centre, 60 Farringdon Road, EC1R 3GA
When: 7 February 7 6.30pm – 9pm
Tickets: Free, but RSVP Essential via [email protected]
A year on from Index’s conference ‘Taking the Offensive – defending artistic freedom of expression in the UK’ (read the conference report here) – join us for an open space event at the Free Word Centre to discuss how the changing free expression landscape affects the arts and vice versa.
There were highs and lows for free expression in UK last year.
HIGHS: the reform libel law by the Defamation Act; the box-office success for Book of Mormons; the growth in sales of self-published books; reform of Section 5 of the Public Order Act, and Grayson Perry singing out loud and clear for freedom of expression in the Reith Lectures. What pushed the boundaries for you in 2013?
LOWS: the revelations about government’s wholesale surveillance of our online activity, the enactment of new press regulations post Leveson, government commissioned web filtering and segregation on university campuses, reforms to GCSE downgrading arts education. How do these developments affect the climate for artistic expression?
FUTURE: The issues of online filters, the call for protection against harassment and social media guidelines (Crown Prosecution Service social media guidelines published last year) require us all to think what sort of internet we want – how free it is, or should be. Are you, or artists/producers you know, concerned about online abuse or commentary in relation to your work?
OPEN SPACE EVENT: The agenda is based on what you bring to it. Here is the space to discuss anything from one of the big issues of the day or talk about that difficult poem that someone once wrote in a workshop. Or just sit and listen. Join Indexers past and present and some of our close friends and associates at Free Word, facilitated by Chrissie Tiller.
14 Jan 2014 | About Index, Campaigns, Press Releases, Statements
Dean Spielmann
President
European Court of Human Rights
Council of Europe
F-67075 Strasbourg cedex
France
13 January 2014
Re: Grand Chamber referral in Delfi v. Estonia (Application no. 64569/09)
Index’s coverage: European ruling spells trouble for online comment
Dear President Spielmann and members of the panel:
We, the undersigned 69 media organisations, internet companies, human rights groups and academic institutions write to support the referral request that we understand has been submitted in the case of Delfi v. Estonia (Application No. 64569/09). Signatories to this letter include some of the largest global news organisations and internet companies including Google, Forbes, News Corp, Thomson Reuters, the New York Times, Bloomberg News, Guardian News and Media, the World Association of Newspapers and News Publishers and Conde Nast; prominent European media companies and associations including the European Newspaper Publishers’ Association, Sanoma Media Netherlands B.V. and the European Publishers Council; national media outlets and journalists associations from across the continent; and advocacy groups including Index on Censorship, Greenpeace, the Center for Democracy and Technology and ARTICLE 19.
We understand that the applicant in the above-referenced case has requested that the chamber judgment of 10 October 2013 be referred to the Grand Chamber of the Court for reconsideration. We are writing to endorse Delfi’s request for a referral due to our shared concern that the chamber judgment, if it stands, would have serious adverse repercussions for freedom of expression and democratic openness in the digital era. In terms of Article 43 (2) of the Convention, we believe that liability for user-generated content on the Internet constitutes both a serious question affecting the interpretation or application of Article 10 of the Convention in the online environment and a serious issue of general importance.
The case involves the liability of an online news portal for third-party defamatory comments posted by readers on the portal’s website, below a news item. A unanimous chamber of the First Section found no violation of Article 10, even though the news piece itself was found to be balanced and contained no offensive language. The portal acted quickly to remove the defamatory comments as soon as it received a complaint from the affected person, the manager of a large private company.
We find the chamber’s arguments and conclusions deeply problematic for the following reasons.
First, the chamber judgment failed to clarify and address the nature of the duty imposed on websites carrying user-generated content: what are they to do to avoid civil and potentially criminal liability in such cases? The inevitable implication of the chamber ruling is that it is consistent with Article 10 to impose some form of strict liability on online publications for all third-party content they may carry. This would translate, in effect, into a duty to prevent the posting, for any period of time, of any user-generated content that may be defamatory.
Such a duty would place a very significant burden on most online news and comment operations – from major commercial outlets to small local newspapers, NGO websites and individual bloggers – and would be bound to produce significant censoring, or even complete elimination, of user comments to steer clear of legal trouble. The Delfi chamber appears not to have properly considered the implications for user comments, which on balance tend to enrich and democratize online debates, as part of the ‘public sphere’.
Such an approach is at odds with this Court’s recent jurisprudence, which has recognized that “[i]n light of its accessibility and its capacity to store and communicate vast amounts of information, the Internet plays an important role in enhancing the public’s access to news and facilitating the dissemination of information generally.”[1] Likewise, in Ahmet Yildirim v. Turkey, the Second Section of the Court emphasised that “the Internet has now become one of the principal means of exercising the right to freedom of expression and information, providing as it does essential tools for participation in activities and discussions concerning political issues and issues of general interest”.[2]
Secondly, the chamber ruling is inconsistent with Council of Europe standards as well as the letter and spirit of European Union law. In a widely cited 2003 Declaration, the Committee of Ministers of the Council of Europe urged member states to adopt the following policy:
“In cases where … service providers … store content emanating from other parties, member states may hold them co-responsible if they do not act expeditiously to remove or disable access to information or services as soon as they become aware … of their illegal nature.
When defining under national law the obligations of service providers as set out in the previous paragraph, due care must be taken to respect the freedom of expression of those who made the information available in the first place, as well as the corresponding right of users to the information.”[3]
The same position was essentially adopted by the European Union through the Electronic Commerce Directive of 2000. Under the Directive, member states cannot impose on intermediaries a general duty to monitor the legality of third-party communications; they can only be held liable if they fail to act “expeditiously” upon obtaining “actual knowledge” of any illegality. This approach is considered a crucial guarantee for freedom of expression since it tends to promote self-regulation, minimizes the need for private censorship, and prevents overbroad monitoring and filtering of user content that tends to have a chilling effect on online public debate.
Thirdly, it follows from the above that the Delfi chamber did not thoroughly assess whether the decisions of the Estonian authorities were “prescribed by law” within the meaning of Article 10 § 2. Under the E-Commerce Directive and relevant judgments of the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU), it was not unreasonable for Delfi to believe that it would be protected by the “safe harbour” provisions of EU law in circumstances such as those of the current case.[4] The chamber ruling sets the Court on a potential course of collision with the case law of the CJEU and may also give rise to a conflict under Article 53 of the Convention.
Finally, the chamber ruling is also at odds with emerging practice in the member states, which are seeking innovative solutions to the unique complexities of the Internet. In the UK, for example, the new defamation reforms for England and Wales contain a number of regulations applicable specifically to defamation through the Internet, including with respect to anonymous third-party comments. Simply applying traditional rules of editorial responsibility is not the answer to the new challenges of the digital era. For similar reasons, related among others to the application of binding EU law, a recent Northern Ireland High Court judgment expressly chose not to follow the Delfi chamber ruling.[5]
For all these reasons, we strongly urge the Court to accept the applicant’s request for a referral that would allow the Grand Chamber to reconsider these issues, taking into account the points raised by the signatories in this letter. There is no question in our minds that the current case raises “a serious question affecting the interpretation” of Article 10 of the Convention as well as “a serious issue of general importance” (Art. 43).
Sincerely,
Algemene Vereniging van Beroepsjournalisten in België
American Society of News Editors
ARTICLE 19
Association of American Publishers, Inc
Association of European Journalists
Bloomberg
bvba Les Journaux Francophones Belges
Center for Democracy and Technology
Conde Nast International Ltd.
Daily Beast Company, LLC
Digital First Media, LLC
Digital Media Law Project, Berkman Center for Internet & Society – Harvard University
Digital Rights Ireland
Dow Jones
Electronic Frontier Finland
Estonian Newspapers Assocation (Eesti Ajalehtede Liit)
EURALO (ICANN’s European At-Large Organization)
European Digital Rights (EDRi)
European Information Society Institute (EISi)
European Magazine Media Association
European Media Platform
European Newspaper Publishers’ Association (ENPA)
European Publishers Council
Federatie van periodieke pers, the Ppress
Forbes
Global Voices Advocacy
Google, Inc.
Greenpeace
Guardian News & Media Limited
Human Rights Center, Ghent University
Hungarian Civil Liberties Union
iMinds-KU Leuven, Interdisciplinary Centre for Law and ICT
Index on Censorship
International Press Institute
Internet Democracy Project
La Quadrature du Net
Lithuanian Online Media Association
Mass Media Defence Center
Media Foundation Leipzig
Media Law Resource Center
Media Legal Defence Initiative
National Press Photographers Association
National Public Radio
Nederlands Genootschap van Hoofdredacteuren
Nederlands Uitgeversverbond (NUV)
Nederlandse Vereniging van Journalisten
Net Users’ Rights Protection Association
News Corp.
Newspaper Association of America
North Jersey Media Group, Inc
NRC Handelsblad
Online News Association
Open Media Coalition – Italy
Open Rights Group
Panoptykon
PEN International
PEN-Vlaanderen
Persvrijheidsfonds
Raad voor de Journalistiek
Radio Television Digital News Association
Raycom Media, Inc.
Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press
Sanoma Media Netherlands B.V.
Telegraaf Media Groep NV
The New York Times Company
Thomson Reuters
Vlaamse Nieuwsmedia
Vlaamse Vereniging van Journalisten
Vrijschrift
World Association of Newspapers and News Publishers
[1] Times Newspapers Ltd v. the United Kingdom (Nos. 1 and 2), Judgment of 10 March 2009, para. 27. See also Editorial Board of Pravoye Delo and Shtekel v. Ukraine, Judgment of 5 May 2011.
[2] Judgment of 18 December 2012, para. 54.
[3] Declaration on freedom of communication on the Internet, 28 May 2003, adopted at the 840th meeting of the Ministers’ Deputies.
[4] The CJEU has ruled, with reference inter alia to Article 10 ECHR, that an Internet service provider cannot be required to install a system filtering (scanning) all electronic communication passing through its services as this would amount to a preventive measure and a disproportionate interference with its users’ freedom of expression and information. See Scarlet v. Sabam, Case C-70/10, Judgment of 24 November 2011; and Netlog v. Sabam, Case C-360/10, Judgment of 16 February 2012.
[5] J19 & Anor v Facebook Ireland [2013] NIQB 113 (15 November 2013), at http://www.bailii.org/nie/cases/NIHC/QB/2013/113.html.
