This is the text of a speech give by Index on Censorship CEO Jodie Ginsberg at the Freedom of Expression Awards on April 13, 2016.
In the very first edition of Index on Censorship magazine – published in 1972 – the then editor Michael Scammell wrote that a definite need existed for such an organisation… only time will tell whether the need is temporary or permanent.
Sadly, 43 years later – as evidenced by tonight’s winners – the need seems permanent. Our aim though, remains to be temporary – our goal is nothing less than an end to all censorship. That’s some target, but if those whom we have honoured here this evening have shown us anything, I hope it’s that is this a target worth aiming for.
Index challenges censorship and celebrates the value of free expression in four ways. The first is through the publication of works by censored writers and artists and about censorship.
We do this through our magazine, a copy of which you all receive this evening, and through our website and social media. If you want a reminder of how censorship remains as live an issue as it was in 1972, in this issue you will find a story from Azeri playwright and poet Akram Aylisi, whose books were burned and his title of “People’s Writer” revoked after he dared to discuss the Armenian genocide. Just this month he was barred from leaving the country.
We challenge censorship through campaigning. This year we will be campaigning along with other like-minded organisations to ensure the government’s planned new extremism bill contains none of its proposed new curbs on free speech.
We challenge by encouraging debate such as one held here at Unicorn Theatre last year following the cancellation of Homegrown — whose director Nadia was one of tonight’s guest presenters, by the National Youth Theatre.
And we challenge censorship by supporting those on the frontlines of its defence. Each of tonight’s winners becomes an Index fellow and we will work with them for the next year to help make sure we can magnify their impact at home and abroad.
We have heard stories tonight of what censorship means in practice. Tonight I want to share with you another slice of Index history: a video made for Index 30 years ago that I think drives home all of those stories.
Free expression needs defenders. It needs defenders to ensure that Zunar does not go to prison for 43 years – another Index lifetime – for drawing cartoons of Malaysia’s Prime Minister. It needs defenders to help ensure that the world in which Zaina’s six-week-old baby, who joined her in London this week, grows up to be a woman who can speak freely, and – if she so chooses – report freely. It needs defenders so that Nabeel Rajab, one of this year’s awards judges, is free to travel and speak freely without fear of jail, harassment or torture.
So what I want you to do this evening is very simple. I want you to reach into your programme and take out the pledge card you’ll find there. Then I want you to take a moment to think what you might otherwise have spent this evening. Then I want you to take a pen and write down that figure – or a higher one – to help ensure that Index can continue to defend free speech. If you can’t do analogue, you can text FEXY16 £10 to give us £10 right now. We might not end censorship immediately but with your help we can make ourselves a little less permanent.
Thank you. To end this evening I am delighted to introduce Martyn Ware, who will present our inaugural Music In Exile Fellowship.
The MIEF is a joint initiative with the producers of the film Music in Exile, which explores the plight of Mali’s musicians after jihadists banned music in the country. Moved by their experiences, producers Johanna Schwartz and Sarah Mosses approached Index to see what we could do to support persecuted artists like those featured in the film. Indeed, one group featured, Songhoy Blues, was shortlisted for an Arts award last year. The MIEF, funded through money from special screenings of the film and other events, will support one musician each year as part of the Index awards fellowship. I’m delighted that MW of Human League and Heaven 17 fame is here to present it.
Turkish journalist Ferit Tunç quit his advertising job in 2013 to found the newspaper Yön Gazetesi, covering the Kurdish Batman province of Turkey. Since its inception, the newspaper has been the subject of nearly 40 lawsuits, and Tunç has been taken close to bankruptcy.
“Being a journalist in Turkey is very difficult,” he told Index. “But being a journalist in the Eastern provinces of Turkey is more difficult, especially these days.”
However he has refused to give up fighting for press freedom in Turkey. In protest to the crippling lawsuits – all of which had been eventually dropped – Tunç began to devote his front pages to recipes for traditional Turkish dishes.
The recipes contained references to government corruption and media censorship, with readers were informed about the best way to prepare “governor kebab” and a sherbet treat the paper satirically-titled “deputy’s finger.”
“They [the authorities] love to eat so we give them recipes. After they understood our protest, they appropriated the newspaper more than before. We will continue our protest until there is a free local media,” Tunç said.
The protest gained local and international attention, and Tunç eventually won a three-month sponsorship from a group of local businessmen, allowing Yön Gazetesi to stay open.
In 2015 Tunç also ran as an independent parliamentary candidate in Batman in the June general election.
“In reality, my reason for being a candidate was not to be elected, it was completely a reaction towards those in authority and against the political parties,” he said. “During our campaigning our main slogan was “No to Corruption”.
Even his campaign van was emblazoned with the demand: “Stop Corruption!”.
Tunç believes politics and the media need to be reformed in Turkey: “People feel they’re being denied the right to know and discuss local issues, but first, you have to have a form of media that can focus on them without being destroyed.”
“Freedom of speech is essential for me and I am of those that believe that there will not be development, happiness and peace in a place without freedom of speech.”
Recipe: Governor Kebap
The name of the food that I have given in the recipe is “Governor’s Kebap.” The Governor’s Kebap is one of the most expensive foods we have and the poor have not had much of a chance to eat it. And the small message we are giving through this is that while the poor are unable to eat this food, the rich are only thinking about their stomachs while abusing the rights of the poor and dealing corruptly.
Ingredients:
– 1 kg boneless leg of lamb
– half kg green beans
– 4-5 tablespoons vegetable oil
– 3 potatoes
– 3 tomatoes
– 2 bell peppers
– a red bell pepper
– 15 pearl onions
– 3 garlic cloves
– 1.5 cups water
– Salt, black pepper, thyme
Preparation:
Peel the garlic cloves. Rub the inside of a stew dish (güveç) with one clove of garlic and then grease it with 1-2 tablespoons of vegetable oil. Peel and wash the vegetables. Cut the beans in half. Slice the potatoes, tomatoes, and peppers. Peel the onions.
Coat the meat with thyme and put it in the stew dish (güveç). In order, add onions, beans, peppers, potatoes, and tomatoes. Add the salt, black pepper, water and remaining oil, and then cover the stew dish (güveç) with aluminum foil. Serve hot after cooking it for one hour in an oven set to 160 degrees.
On social media Thai journalist Pravit Rojanaphruk’s amused disobedience to his military-assigned “attitude adjusters” serves to make them look outdated and slightly ridiculous. But in reality the ex-senior reporter of The Nation has faced a systematic harassment that would silence most others.
Rojanaphruk is an outspoken critic of Thailand’s lèse majesté law, which bans any criticism of the monarchy, and one of the few voices still speaking against the military rule which has presided over Thailand since 2014.
“In Thailand, most people think of the beach, mountain, sand, sea and smiles,” he said to Index. “But the reality is that for those who disagree with the military regime, they are being repressed. They are under a dictatorship and find it still ongoing.”
Humour is a powerful tool for him, as is social media, he says, since it’s a lot harder to silence than traditional media.
“Social media is vibrant, it’s instantaneous and it’s widespread. There is no single centre.”
This is a frightening prospect for a military government trying to retain control, and his popularity on social media has gained Rojanaphruk the repeated attention of the junta.
“People kept retweeting or sharing my Facebook and they find it very disturbing. Particularly the fact that I am doing it bilingually. So they feel that right away it’s not just the Thai but the world would also care about what’s happening in Thailand.”
After his second detention his employer of 23 years, the English-language paper The Nation, quietly asked him to leave his position as senior reporter. Rojanaphruk tweeted his resignation, saying: “Thanks to The Nation for everything. After discussing with management I agreed to resign to save the paper from further pressure.”
But this did not slow Rojanaphruk down. He is now writing for Bangkok-based news siteKhaosod English, and still getting in trouble with his attitude adjusters.
“They forced me to attend a meeting, but they gave me the choice of where. So I chose Starbucks. And I paid for them.”
He tweeted this incongruous meeting, the military junta dressed in cammo, drinking fruit smoothies.
“You don’t run away, you try to fight and do what you can to roll back repression, to roll back the trend against freedom of expression.”
His next self-appointed challenge is to take on the new junta-sponsored draft constitution.
When we spoke to Rojanaphruk, he had just posted three possible responses to the draft on Twitter and Facebook.
“I took three photographs. One with a thumbs up sign in front of the physical draft charter. Second one with a three finger, and the third one the middle finger,” he said.
“So they are very upset about my giving the middle finger.”
For this he would likely face further pressure, he said. But he refused to give in to censorship and to stop questioning the military rule that many others have now let slide.
“The battle is to defend this remaining freedom and as we speak, the physical freedom to assemble in public for any political gathering is already gone. Academic freedoms have been curbed,” he said.
“I think it’s an obligation to do something, to do whatever you can as a journalist to defend freedom of speech, freedom of expression. Not just for the media, for the society in general. And you think you, that by any chance well equipped to do something about it, you should give it a try.”
Since becoming a journalist almost 30 years ago, Pakistani journalist Hamid Mir has had to choose between his life and his career. Mir is now one of Pakistan’s best-known journalists, the host of Geo Television’s flagship political show Capital Talk. He also now lives under armed guard, recovering from yet another assassination attempt, with his family sent abroad for their safety.
“My family is not happy with me,” he told Index. “They think that my life is more important than the profession.” Mir does not agree.
“I think that if I leave Pakistan, it’s like I surrender, and I don’t want to surrender to the Taliban, I don’t want to surrender to the rogue elements in our intelligence agencies and the security agencies. I don’t want to surrender to the enemies of democracy.”
Mir became a journalist after his father, who himself taught journalism at the University of the Punjab, died in mysterious circumstances in 1987. Mir saw his career as a continuation of his father’s fight for democracy, human rights and minorities’ rights in Pakistan.
“When I decided to become a journalist, Pakistan was ruled by a military dictator,” Mir told Index. It was not long after he started at a small paper in Lahore that Mir first met the violent opposition to his reporting that would characterise his career and life.
“When I started facing trouble, I was not aware that I was touching some controversial subject,” he said. “I was only doing my job as a reporter.”
In 1990, Mir broke a story about the military establishment and the then-president trying to remove the democratically elected Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto.
“I was kidnapped by the intelligence agency and they tortured me and asked me to tell them who is my source.” Bhutto’s government was removed days later.
Fast forward 30 years and Mir is still reporting on issues many Pakistani journalists won’t touch.
His tireless and outspoken reporting has earned him enemies in Pakistan’s intelligence agency, the Inter-Services Intelligence, the Pakistani Taliban and local terrorist groups, and Pakistan’s political parties.
It has also earned him a lifetime of assassination attempts – the latest a near-fatal attack in 2014 which saw him shot six times as he drove to work – has left Mir living under constant protection. He is driven to and from work in a bulletproof vehicle, alternating between cell phones and residences, and away from his two children, who were sent abroad after a car they were riding in was attacked.
But, for Mir, reporting on these untouchable-topics is not a question. “Maybe it’s controversial for the others but it’s not controversial for me,” he says.
“If a military dictator is suspending the constitution of Pakistan which was approved by the elected parliament, and I, being a journalist and a TV anchor, am opposing that, for me it’s not controversial,” he says.
“And again, if some intelligence agency is trying to dictate me – you should report this and you should not report that – and if the religious extremists, the Taliban, they are issuing threats to women, they are bombing the girls’ schools, and I am criticising the Taliban. I don’t think that it’s controversial.”
Threats to his life intensified in late 2015, and under pressure from his family, Mir planned to take three months off-air.
“After one month, I realised that it’s too much, I have to come back.”
For Mir, if not for his family, his duty to Pakistan and to his colleagues, will always outweigh his own safety. The guilt he feels for those journalists who have died for their work is too great to ever allow him to stop, he says.
“There were some colleagues who used to come to me and take advice about what should we do because we are facing pressures. Should we continue our job as a journalist? I used to advise them, yes you must continue your job as a journalist, nothing bad will happen. But they were killed, they were kidnapped.”
“If I leave Pakistan today, on the pressure of my family, maybe I will leave a very safe life in London or in Berlin or in Paris or in any other country. But it will be very difficult for me to live a normal life, because the ghosts of my martyred friends, they will not allow me to have a comfortable sleep.”
Mir believes he is one of the lucky ones in Pakistan – he has survived. And life in Lahore is a lot easier for journalists than for those living outside the city, he says.
Although he sees media freedom in Pakistan getting worse, with pressures from the extremist forces and state agencies intensifying, his long-view is an uplifting one.
“The good thing is that the people, the majority of the people of Pakistan, the civil society, is the main source of our strength. If I am living in Pakistan, if I am surviving in Pakistan, it’s only because the common man is supporting me,” he said. “The common man believes in democracy, they don’t like extremist ideology, they don’t like dictatorship, they want rule of law. There is a ray of hope for me in Pakistan.”
Ingredients:
