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Vietnam is a country that bans authors because of what they write. I know this because it has just happened to me. Two months ago the Diplomatic Academy of Vietnam invited me to attend its annual East Sea conference. Today, standing at the airport check-in counter at Heathrow Airport, I finally abandoned my efforts to get there. It’s a huge disappointment — the conference looks excellent and it would have been a chance to properly understand the Vietnamese position on the East Sea disputes. Now the book that I am writing about those disputes will have to go ahead without a Vietnamese perspective. All because of the Vietnamese Ministry of Public Security.
It’s taken two months of emails and phone calls to get to this point. For the past week the Diplomatic Academy has actively been trying to find a solution, and in the past few days the British Embassy in Hanoi has also been trying to help. Today came the confirmation — my visa has been refused by the Ministry of Public Security (MPS). The Embassy told me as I was waiting by the check-in desk.
The only reason the MPS can have for banning me is that it doesn’t like the book I published two years ago, Vietnam: Rising Dragon. It can be the only reason — I have no contact with dissident organisations, I have never plotted to overthrow the Party or the state and I have never committed an offence against Vietnam’s immigration laws. Of course, when I was the BBC reporter in Hanoi six years ago, I regularly broke the Press Law — but then every foreign journalist in Vietnam breaks that almost every single day. It’s impossible to be a foreign journalist in Vietnam without contravening the Law’s draconian restrictions.
The Press Law requires all foreign journalists to give the authorities five days notice of every journalistic activity they undertake — every interview, every phone call, every request for information. Of course it is impossible to do this and meet deadlines, so all foreign journalists just break the law and the authorities ignore it — until the foreign journalist writes something that the Ministry of Public Security doesn’t like. It’s one reason why Vietnam sits at the bottom of international lists on media freedom. But they don’t get banned.
So why am I a threat to Public Security? Does the MPS think my book could really destroy the leading role of the Communist Party of Vietnam? It’s a fair, honest and balanced portrayal of modern Vietnam. That means it contains both praise and criticism — honest accounts of how the political system works, how the Party maintains its hold on power and how it relates to the outside world. Little of it is new to most Vietnamese people: they know most of these things very well. I think my offence was to say these things in public – and in English — where foreign governments and aid donors can read them. Vietnam: rising dragon has been well received. At least one American university recommends it to students studying Southeast Asia. No-one has told me about any mistakes or inaccuracies, and no-one has called it biased or unfair.
Perhaps this is the reason why it has not been granted a publication licence in Vietnam. Perhaps this is the reason why I am now banned from the country too. It seems that — for the MPS — it’s an offence to write the honest truth about modern Vietnam.
Bill Hayton is a former BBC reporter in Hanoi and author of Vietnam: Rising Dragon
The fact that Azerbaijan is hosting the Internet Governance Forum (IGF) may seem incongruous to many, not least Emin Milli and Adnan Hajizadeh, who in 2009 were jailed for 14 months ostensibly for disseminating a satirical video remarking on the suspiciously high price the government paid to import donkeys. However, the General Secretary of the International Telecommunications Union (ITU — a specialised UN agency that sets standards for international telephony) has thought about this carefully. Remarking on the role that social networks can play in the strengthening freedoms, Hamadoun Toure said:
The fact of 1 million Facebook users in Azerbaijan shows that the country is among the world leaders in this field.
Perhaps it is too easy to respond to these comments, breathlessly trumpeted in the state media, with a quick check on what Saudi Arabia‘s 5.8 million Facebook users might indicate for freedom in that country. When I was in Baku, one blogger told me that the internet in Azerbaijan is relatively open (at least to those with access, penetration remains low outside the cities), sites are not blocked and the authorities would encourage everyone to say everything online with the unfortunate caveat that it is all recorded and you may pay for your expression with a late night knock at door, your career terminated, or worse.
A Eurovision protest is crushed in Baku
These claims further demonstrate the Aliyev regime’s frustrating insistence on organising international events and thus opening up the country to examination, only to be baffled when not everyone is happy at the host’s questionable activities. In May 2012, Azerbaijan spent untold amounts of its oil profits on throwing a lavish Eurovision Song Contest only for party-pooping journalists and activists to kill the mood by publishing images of beaten protesters, impoverished citizens and the smoking ruins of houses bulldozed to make way for the Eurovision arena Crystal Hall. After the contest had finished and the circus had left town, presidential spokesman Ali Hasanov departed from the cuddly Eurovision script to recommend that “public hatred” should be directed towards the independent media that brought these issues to light.
Like other eccentric, lonely billionaires, president Ilham Aliyev seems to think that ostentatious displays of wealth lead to happiness. Azerbaijan’s money actually could buy happiness for the population if directed in the right way but instead it is lost in a black hole of corruption or funnelled into curious white elephant projects, culminating recently in the most audacious to date: a statue of former leader Heydar Aliyev in a park in Mexico City. Meanwhile the President’s children are blessed with multi-million dollar property portfolios, and the majority of Azerbaijanis struggle along.
My experience as a foreign journalist in Azerbaijan during Eurovision was bizarre from the moment I stepped off the plane. After being welcomed by some friendly young volunteers I was shepherded on to a large coach with Eurovision logos emblazoned on the side in which I was the sole passenger. I spent part of the journey along Heydar Aliyev Avenue, admiring the ubiquitous Heydar Aliyev posters and wondering why a large fence had been erected either side of the motorway. Some Azeribaijanis dryly termed this the “belt of happiness”, as it was clearly a flagrant attempt to conceal the sprawl of ramshackle houses beyond it.
The belt of happiness provides a useful metaphor of the Azerbaijani government’s constant clumsy attempts to conceal deep problems in the country with a gold sticker and hope that visiting observers and investors will not notice. The act of hosting the IGF does not mark you out as a pioneer of freedom any more than building a statue in Mexico endears you to Mexicans. Such moves can be used to fuel the gargantuan PR machine that says Azerbaijan is a stable, open-minded country to do business with, when in fact bribery and financial chicanery are endemic and teenagers are arrested for shouting the word freedom on the streets. However, Azerbaijan must be encouraged in its unquenchable thirst for partying and events if only to attract increased scrutiny to yet another repressive regime that exchanges oil for the silence of European politicians.
Witnessing Azerbaijan’s autocracy in action, Mike Harris reports from the Internet Governance Forum
Greek Journalist Kostas Vaxevani after his arrest for exposing alleged tax cheats – Athens – Stathis Kalligeris | Demotix
The European Union has a duty to speak out against increasing censorship, writes Rohan Jayasekera (more…)