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This week I was planning to write about the Queen’s speech, delivered this week by HRH Prince Charles, as the British Parliament began its new parliamentary session and the Government outlined it parliamentary priorities. There are now six proposed pieces of legislation by the British Government that will impact our collective rights to both freedom of expression and privacy in the United Kingdom. But my views on the ideological incoherence of the Government’s approach to freedom of expression will have to wait until next week.
Because today we mourn the death of another journalist. On Wednesday, Shireen Abu Akleh, a well-known and well regarded Palestinian-American journalist was killed while doing her job in Jenin.
According to Committee for the Protection of Journalists (CPJ) Shireen is the 17th journalist to have been killed in the line of duty in 2022. Index has fought to defend the rights of journalists for over fifty years. Every attack on a journalist is an effort to stop people speaking truth to power. It’s an attempt to quash dissent and to impose a single world view. And every death seeks to silence not just the voice of journalists but through them the voices of all of us. We cannot allow those who seek to repress their populations to win.
Today our thoughts and prayers are with Shireen’s family and loved ones. And as much as we mourn her today, we remember and honour the work and sacrifices made by her, her family and the sixteen other journalists who have lost their lives in 2022.
6 January – John Wesley Amady, Haiti
6 January – Wilguens Louis-Saint, Haiti
9 January – Pu Tuidim, Myanmar
17 January – Alfonso Margarito Martinez Esquivel, Mexico
5 February – Rohit Biswal, India
9 February – Evariste Djailoramdji, Chad
10 February – Heber Lopez Vasquez, Mexico
23 February – Maximilien Lazard, Haiti
1 March – Yevhenii Sakun, Ukraine
13 March – Brent Renaud, Ukraine
13 March-1 April – Maks Levin, Ukraine
14 March – Oleksandra Kuvshynova, Ukraine
14 March – Pierre Zakrzewski, Ukraine
15 March – Armando Linares Lopez, Mexico
23 March – Oksana Baulina, Ukraine
Late March – 2 April – Mantas Kvedaravicius, Ukraine
11 May – Shireen Abu Akleh, Occupied Palestinian Territory
Each of these brave journalists needs to be remembered and celebrated for their work and their sacrifice. And their families need and deserve both the truth and, most importantly, justice.
I regularly start my weekly blog with the exclamation “there is just too much news!” Too much horror and heartbreak and this week the assertion is all too true.
Russia has invaded a sovereign country and daily we are seeing evidence of war crimes on the continent of Europe; China is arresting yet more democracy activists on the flimsiest of excuses; there have been bombings targeting schools in Afghanistan; a neo-fascist is, yet again, in the final run-off in the French Presidential elections; there are riots in Sweden against the far-right with dozens hurt; people are starving in Shanghai under Covid-19 restrictions; there is active conflict again in Jerusalem, with over 150 Palestinians hurt in clashes after a series of terror attacks targeting Israelis in recent weeks; another video of a black man being fatally shot by the police has emerged in the US – Patrick Lyoya was killed, while being held on the ground, defenceless, on 14 April and riots have followed in Michigan.
Our team at Index is working on every one of these news stories. We work with people on the ground, and we commission dissidents and writers, in country, to give us a first-hand account. In the twenty-first century we can speak to people in every corner of the globe, as events are happening, because of the internet and the social media platforms which afford us all a level of protection because of end-to-end encryption. We work with people on the ground who would be arrested, tortured, or even killed because they want to share their experiences with the world. They want the world to know what is happening to them and to their communities. They are on the frontline in the perpetual fight for our democratic right to freedom of expression. They are vulnerable because of who they are and what they want to share with us, whether that’s their writings, their opinions or their art.
They are brave and inspirational and determined to stand up for what is right. For as long as they want to tell their stories there is a moral onus for us to listen to them.
Which brings me to the current proposals to regulate our online lives currently being progressed in the European Union and in the United Kingdom. In Europe, today (Friday) the final negotiations on the substance of the Digital Services Act are underway and, in the UK, the Online Safety Bill began its parliamentary journey on Tuesday. Index is working actively with partners to try and mitigate the worst aspects of both pieces of legislation and we were in Brussels this week to make the case for additional protections for freedom of speech. Our overriding goal is to make sure that our access to those brave dissidents is protected and that our rights to discuss the detail of these horrors are protected. To make sure that while legislators are trying to ‘protect’ us online they don’t end up inadvertently silencing us.
Index advocates for free expression within the protections afforded to us by the European Convention on Human Rights. There is no right not be offended. There is no right not to see things online, or in real life, that will upset you. Of course, we all want to protect each other from seeing the worst aspects of human life – that’s an admirable aspiration but it isn’t the grounds for making new law. In fact, it’s the exact opposite – legally we have protected freedom of expression, it’s a fundamental right. I have written before about our concerns regarding online regulation and in the coming months I’ll be writing extensively on it – but we start with the basic principle – what is legal to say should be legal to type. And that should be the case whatever any new legislation seeks to amend.
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”116823″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes”][vc_column_text]I can’t remember the first time I heard the slogan “No voice is louder than the voice of the intifada”.
I was born at the peak of the intifada (uprising) in which this slogan first appeared, in 1988. I became more aware of it during the second uprising, at the start of the millennium when the slogan re-emerged.
When I chose the topic of my dissertation in sociology on the impact of a prevalent ideology in determining the options of sociological research in Palestinian universities, I found that the slogan summarised how the existent national ideology works against critical visions in social sciences and tries to silence them. After research, I found that the slogan was a modification to a slogan that existed during phases of tyranny in Arab countries in the last century, namely “No voice is louder than the voice of the battle.”
Ever since I was born, I’ve been living through the “battle” in which no other voice should prevail. This is what happens when you live in a conflict that has not been resolved for more than 70 years. I live in Ramallah in the West Bank, an area that is subject to Israeli military occupation according to the UN since 1967.
There have been national movements that worked towards ending the occupation but these were transformed into an authority that signed a peace agreement with Israel and that hasn’t led to peace. Instead, there were understandings reached that resulted in administrative and security coordination.
At various times, this led to calm periods full of economic opportunities and cultural activity that were supported internationally. It seemed as if the battle’s voice receded or faded away. Yet the national authority maintained the battle discourse, which must remain above all others.
Years ago, on the wall of an oil press, in the village of my maternal grandparents, I read a slogan that shocked me: “You are either a mine that explodes under the feet of the enemy or you shut up.” Underneath was the signature of a leftist faction. I realised that I faced two choices: I am either dead –because I am a mine that explodes under the enemy’s feet – or I am muted.
In 2016, when I wrote my novel A Crime in Ramallah, I was subject to a dual-pronged attack.
The first manifested itself legally through the public prosecutor and the Palestinian Authority (PA), who confiscated my novel from bookstores and libraries, issued an arrest warrant against me and detained the distributor of the novel.
The second was of a popular dimension in social media, which fed on the prevalent ideology and its logic. This incident highlighted the reality relating to freedom of speech in the areas controlled by the PA, through legal tools on the one hand and national tools connected to the prevalent ideology on the other. Accusations were hurled against me regarding public morals in the current law, along with charges of treason and insulting national symbols that are prevalent in the discourse of the “battle”.
The current laws in force in PA areas remain a topic of legal argument. These include the penal code of 1960, which is a regressive law with an abundance of violations to freedom of expression and speech in addition to violations of political freedoms, freedom of sexual orientation and freedom of women.
Further, the law is vague and can be maliciously misinterpreted. The arrest warrant was issued against me on this basis. Efforts to amend the law or enact a contemporary law that allows for even minimal freedom of expression have all failed.
In 2018, the electronic crimes law was issued which violated freedom of the press and online expression and statement. It included harsh penalties that had an impact on writers, journalists, artists and everyday people who have become hesitant to merely criticise the authorities with a post or tweet on social media.
Recently, and at an unprecedented level, major social media outlets have started censoring Palestinian content. Accordingly, I cannot write anything about the occupation and its practices in Arabic without the threat of my account being restricted or removed.
Due to the weak algorithms of these sites in the Arabic language, the context thus becomes irrelevant. So merely mentioning certain words might result in the restriction or cancellation of my account. Two options here remind me of the graffiti on the wall I previously mentioned: I either shut up or become non-existent in this cyberspace.
Today as I write these words, I am unable to freely express my thoughts on both sides of the “battle.” I fear that many began surrendering indeed to the truth that there is no voice above its voice, and I worry that I am one of them.
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[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”116776″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes”][vc_column_text]Here’s an experiment. When you read about the systematic persecution of the Uyghurs in China, what’s your reaction? Do you think it’s acceptable to tweet that the Chinese, as a people, are Nazis? And when you read about the treatment of the Rohingya in Myanmar, do you believe it’s a legitimate response to comment on social media that the Burmese, as a people, are genocidal racists? We don’t see Buddhist temples daubed with swastikas in Europe as a reaction to discrimination against the Rohingya (although Buddhist temples have been attacked in racist incidents believed to be triggered by coronavirus). But we are seeing synagogues in Europe (including a synagogue in Norwich) defaced and attacked following the current violence in Israel and Palestine. It is the Jews, as a people, who are considered guilty. Not just Jews in Israel, Jews everywhere.
Israel is an ethnic state. Zionism was a nationalist movement, its claim to Palestine based on the historical roots of the Jewish people. The creation of the state of Israel in 1948 resulted in the dispossession of hundreds of thousands of Arab Palestinians. Since the Six Day War, Israel has occupied territory illegally; since Oslo, it has expanded settlements and ensured that a two-state solution is unviable. The international community (Arab states as well as the US and Europe) has, shamefully, allowed this to happen. But is it acceptable for the actions of a state (currently resulting in the deaths of innocent men, women and children) to lead to racist abuse against a people?
Not all Jews are Zionists. And there are Zionists, too, who want equality for Palestinians. If you read the Israeli newspaper Ha’aretz, you will regularly find vociferous condemnation and criticism of the state (from Palestinian as well as Israeli writers). When Netanyahu was moving towards annexation of the West Bank last year, public figures from the left and the centre in Israel signed a petition published in Ha’aretz condemning the action as apartheid. The Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem declared Israel’s actions to be apartheid months before Human Rights Watch did the same. There are Jewish grassroots movements inside and outside Israel fighting for justice for the Palestinian people.
Yet it is Jews as a people who are guilty. Israel’s actions regularly trigger familiar antisemitic tropes: cartoons of hook-nosed Israeli soldiers dripping with blood who look like Nazi caricatures or claims of a Zionist conspiracy that echo the old accusation that the Jews are seeking to control the world. This kind of expression is not political commentary on the abuses of the Israeli state and not speech that should be protected – it is a racist attack on all Jews. Four men were arrested at the weekend, following an incident in London where antisemitic abuse that incited violence was broadcast from a convoy of cars emblazoned with Palestinian flags (the image at the top of this article is from a video of the incident). According to the Community Security Trust, there has been a fourfold increase in antisemitic incidents since the escalation of the current conflict.
It is a reservoir of prejudice that runs deep. European antisemitism has repeatedly cast the Jews, victims of racism throughout the history of modern Europe, as victimisers – a group that seeks to cause harm and is secretly plotting to do so. It is a chilling inversion of victimhood that characterises much of antisemitism. The Israeli state’s actions play into this narrative, confirming the now ancient prejudice of Jews as oppressors.
We are currently witnessing supremacist nationalism in Israel and a prime minister clinging on to power who has cosied up to the most extreme elements in society. Let’s call it what it is – without resorting to racist abuse. It’s high time for the Palestinians to have their own state and it’s also time for Europeans to let go of a prejudice that rots political discourse and endangers Jews.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]