Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan (Photo: Philip Janek / Demotix)
Shortly before campaigning for Turkey’s upcoming presidential election was officially set to begin, the director of public broadcaster TRT threatened to cut coverage of candidate Selahattin Demirtas. The reason? Demirtas had publicly criticised TRT for bias towards one of the three men in the running — outgoing Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan.
The case, reported by Index on Censorship’s media freedom mapping tool, is just one example of the challenges facing free expression in Turkey on eve of a vote that could alter its political system. When Turks go to the polls on Sunday, it will be in the country’s first direct presidential election. The consensus is that Erdogan will beat his opponents — Dermitas from the left wing People’s Democratic Party and Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu, representing the centre-left Republican People’s Party and the far-right Nationalist Movement Party — comfortably; some predict after just one round. But what makes this election even more significant, is Erdogan’s declared intention to transform the presidency from a largely ceremonial role to a powerful office based on the US model. This would effectively allow him to remain in power despite being barred from re-election as prime minister by term limits.
Concerns have been raised about the impact of the state of free expression in Turkey on the election. The Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), in its capacity as an election observer, recently stated that “direct interference of media owners and political actors into editorial freedom results in a lack of independent and investigative journalism and leads to limited criticism towards the ruling party and the prime minister”. The interim report from its election observation mission published on 31 July, also highlighted shortcomings in the legal framework around impartiality of media coverage and the the country’s restrictive internet legislation.
This is at least in part backed up by Demirtas’ claims. According to research from Turkey’s broadcasting regulator, between 4 and 6 July, TRT gave 533 minutes worth of coverage to Erdogan, compared to 3.24 seconds for Ihsanoglu and 45 seconds to Demirtas. Erdogan has also been accused of blurring the lines between his role as prime minister and presidential candidate, and using resources and platforms exclusively available to him to rally support. The campaigns of Erdogan’s opponents “have been active, but with limited visibility”, as the OSCE put it.
Other recent media freedom cases go beyond questions of impartiality. Released just days before the election, a report by Bianet, a Turkish news site that monitors attacks on press freedom, showed that assaults on journalists is on the rise. As covered by Index, the research found that between April and June, there had been 54 attacks on journalists — between January and March, the figure was “at least” 40. The report also noted that 133 fines were handed out to various TV and radio institutions and continued impunity around attacks on the media. This follows the pattern of Turkey’s global press freedom ranking, which has deteriorated over the past years.
Internet freedom has also been dealt some blows in the lead-up to the election. The latest Twitter transparency report, published last week, showed that Turkey has submitted the highest number of content removal requests in the past six months — despite the fact that Twitter was banned in Turkey for two weeks in March and April. The social media platform has been used by many of the country’s 36 million internet users to have their say on political matters, most notably during last summer’s Gezi park protests — a topic Turkish playwright Meltem Arikan has written about extensively for Index.
More recently, Turkish social media was flooded with photos of grinning women, in protest at Deputy Prime Minister Bulent Arinc declaring that women shouldn’t laugh out loud in public. While the bans on Twitter and later also YouTube were short-lived, authorities continue to keep close tabs on the internet. Twitter user @fuatavni, who has almost one million followers, was blocked in Turkey after criticising the government. Earlier in July, Erdogan filed a legal complaint against the editor of Today’s Zaman, Bulent Kenes, over what he claimed were insulting tweets. This comes in the wake of controversial legislation passed in February, which gives the government wide-reaching powers in regulating the internet.
Last week, the social web, at one end of its endless, pendulum-like swings between mawkishness and self-righteous fury, discovered a letter from the head teacher at Barrowford primary school, East Lancashire. It was a sweet-natured letter, congratulating students on their exam results and then going on to note all the things exams can’t measure and examiners don’t know:
“The people who create these tests and score them do not know each of you the way your teachers do, the way I hope to, and certainly not the way your families do.
“They do not know that many of you speak two languages. They do not know that you can play a musical instrument or that you can dance or paint a picture. They do not know that your friends count on you to be there for them or that your laughter can brighten the dreariest day.”
…and so on; examiners did not that “know that you have travelled to a really neat place or that you know how to tell a great story ” etc etc etc.
All very sweet sentiments, and new and traditional outlets went crazy for it. The letter went viral, and then the mainstream media, including BBC Radio 4’s The Today Programme, covered the fact the letter had gone viral.
There were a few problems with the well-meaning letter, though. As Toby Young pointed out in the Telegraph, it was incorrect to say the people who “scored” the children’s Key Stage 2 achievements “do not know each of you the way your teachers do”; part of the assessment is done by teachers at the schools.
Meanwhile, children in East Lancashire do not, generally, go to “really neat” places. American kids go to “really neat” places. Barrowford kids might, say, get taken to Turf Moor to see a Burnley match, or more likely at this time of year, Blackpool Pleasure Beach, and it would be proper good.
The reason for these disparities was simple: large sections of the letter had been lifted from elsewhere; apparently, it’s been circulating in various forms since originally being written by a Mary Ginley of Massachusetts in 1999.
When various people (including me) pointed this out on Twitter, they were seen as being somewhere between the Grinch and ISIS in terms of spoilsport misanthropy. “So what if it wasn’t original?” we were told. The sentiment was correct, and that’s what was important.
It may seem unduly curmudgeonly to complain about a rural school’s end of term letter, but the point of interest here is how quickly it spread, and how blase people have been about the basics of who actually wrote it.
Consider another example: after Algeria went out of the World Cup, it was widely rumoured on Facebook, Twitter and other networks that the team had donated its fee for the tournament to “Gaza”; not the ICRC or MSF, or even Hamas, just vague “Gaza”.
It felt good, and it felt nice, and it was plainly not true. But no one really cared whether it was true or not because (a) Algeria had been quite an enjoyable team to watch, b) people wanted to think someone was doing something about Gaza, and c) well, the Algerian team were Muslims, so they’re probably concerned about Palestine (I never said this was a well-thought out view).
This pattern was repeated when German Muslim player Mesut Ozil was similarly reported to have donated his fee to “Gaza” after his team’s eventual World Cup triumph. The news spread like wildfire, because people wanted it to be true. It wasn’t. Ozil had already pledged his cash to projects in Brazil.
The Gaza conflict has provided more of these moments: a picture of thousands of Orthodox Jewish men protesting in New York is widely touted as a pro-Palestine protest; it is not. It is taken from a protest against Israeli conscription laws in March; a meme circulates quoting actor Robert De Niro comparing Israel to a mad dog; there is no evidence that he has ever said this.
But these things, like the school letter, circulate because they feel right and they make us feel good.
As the old line says “a lie will go round the world while truth is pulling its boots on”. The speed with which we can now move information around surely compels us to be even more mindful of this fact. And yet, what’s the answer? Social media thrives on the instantaneous; slowing it down could be severely damaging to the positive aspects of it. Draconian Chinese laws on “spreading rumours” are reported to have severely affected the number of interactions on social media. In democracies, it would likely be impossible to prevent feelgood-but-false memes, as well as straighforward propaganda, to spread without a massive crackdown on free expression.
For a long time, the web has demanded that we “become our own editors”, ensuring that we take in a broad amount of information rather than merely reading the sites we like on the topics we like, avoiding challenging or new ideas.
But the editorial process must always involve a high level of scepticism; some of the greatest journalistic failures of the past 40 years, such as the Hitler Diaries Hoax, or Piers Morgan’s disastrous publishing of fake pictures of Iraq war abuses in the Daily Mirror, came down to an editor’s and others involved required scepticism being overwhelmed by a story that was simply too good to be true. Disaster ensued.
The same must apply for anyone who thinks themselves vaguely “active” in the political sense on the web. Inaccurate information ultimately damages your cause. So the next time you see a meme on NHS spending, Israel, or whatever it is you care about, think before you tweet: Is this too good to be true? Do I have any way of checking this for myself?
Patrick Hamilton, the English author and playwright, has now reached the curious position within the literary world of being best known for being overlooked. Hamilton wrote sad, cruel and intensely funny novels of what I’ve taken to calling the Oh-God-The-War-Is-Coming (OGTWIC) genre — a genre of rented rooms, gin and lonely, quietly failing people, usually based in London and the South East, striving grimly, dimly aware that something is going drastically wrong on the continent and their inconsequential existence is unsustainable in its current form (see also Nigel Collins, Julian McClaren-Ross, and George Orwell, to an extent).
Put simply, there are Nazis, and sooner or later there will be a war. In Hamilton’s Hangover Square, George Harvey Bone’s drinking cronies display fascist sympathies, the bullying Peter having actual served time in jail for Blackshirt streetfighting. Orwell’s George Bowling, in 1939’s Coming Up For Air, bemoans the machine world in the perfect line: “Everything’s streamlined now, even the bullet Hitler’s saving for you.”
Perhaps alone among the OGTWIC novelists, Hamilton found fame in Britain before Hitler. His thrilling play Rope debuted on the West End in April 1929, shortly after his 25th birthday, and was an immediate sensation. Rope, later filmed by Alfred Hitchcock, concerned a pair of students who decide to kill a friend, just for the hell of it. But, after the murder, as suspicion grows, their nerve dissolves.
The play was apparently based on the 1924 “Leopold and Loeb” case, in which two wealthy Chicago students, convinced by Nietzsche’s idea of the the Übermensch who live beyond humanity’s moral codes, decide to murder a young friend, Bobby Franks. In the lead up to the murder, Nathan Leopold had written to Richard Loeb that: “A superman … is, on account of certain superior qualities inherent in him, exempted from the ordinary laws which govern men He is not liable for anything he may do.”
The courts felt differently: Leopold and Loeb did kill poor young Franks, but far from committing the perfect crime, they made several clumsy mistakes and were easily caught and convicted. Only the brilliance of their defence lawyer, the famed Clarence Darrow, helped them avoid execution.
Hamilton was almost embarrassed by Rope’s success, perhaps irritated that his fame had come from a popular West End thriller rather than his novels. But, according to Hamilton biographer Nigel Jones, others gave it more credit. An article in the Times Literary Supplement after the war credited Hamilton with picking up on the Zeitgeist of 1920s and 1930s masculinity, specifically the “young men with the highest social pretensions and an almost mystical pursuit of violence” who would fill the ranks of Europe’s fascist movements. The TLS went on to praise the Rope writer, saying “[W]hether the author was conscious of it or not, his social sensitiveness had invested the thriller form with more than its usual significance. And he has shown himself at least concerned for human values and able to feel passionate indignation at their denial.”
Rope roared on to Broadway and round the world, providing Hamilton with a steady income for the rest of his too-short, drink-sodden life.
But, given its prescience, it encountered a particularly ironic moral panic when it was scheduled for broadcast by the BBC in January 1932.
The radio had been commissioned by BBC HEad of Productions Val Gielgud — brother of Sir John and of an equally theatrical leaning. Eagerly hyping his commission, Gielgud put himself forward to issue a statement on air, warning that the play was shocking indeed and that BBC listeners should “send the children to bed and lock granny in her room” before settling down to listen to the thriller.
Gielgud’s music-hall instincts worked a dream, and the newspapers and defenders of the nation flew into a fury. The Morning Post quoted a concerned correspondent who allegedly wrote: “The play had a successful run — there is, of course, a section of the British public which enjoys the degenerate; no one wishes to interfere with their pleasure. It is, however, quite another thing to broadcast this stuff into millions of homes.”
The aggrieved Morning Post reader went on to bemoan the “outrages and murders of little girls” that filled the pages of the newspapers, and suggested that the broadcast of Rope would only encourage “the morbid tendency which leads to these crimes. I submit that the BBC is making a gross misuse of its powers.”
The British Empire Union, a xenophobic, ultra-conservative organisation, picked up on the “morbid tendency” theme, protesting to the BBC that: “While not questioning the ‘cleverness’ of the play, or the undoubted dramatic ability of the author, we consider the broadcasting of a play of this description cannot but encourage in unbalanced and degenerate minds that morbid tendency which leads to the crimes depicted.”
Gielgud, by this point trolling the entire country, told the Evening Standard: “There is nothing disgusting or gruesome about this play, [but] it would have been unfair to broadcast it without letting people know in advance what they were going to hear. For example it might not be the most suitable thing to hear in a hospital.”
The broadcast was, of course, a roaring success, with millions listening in and critics (the Morning Post and the Daily Mail aside) wooed utterly.
The mechanisms of so many public outrages are tied up neatly in Rope: the tease of the promoter; the wilful misunderstanding of a work which explores a controversial issue rather than condoning it; the head in the sand refusal to look at the context of the work; the censorious impulse of those who, while not themselves affected by such things, fear for those lesser beings who may be; the intervention of the Daily Mail; and, ultimately, the fleeting, soon-forgotten nature of the controversy. Over 80 years later, in the age of the iPhone and the Twitter mob, how little we have changed.
A few months after the adoption of a progressive new constitution guaranteeing freedom of expression and the right to privacy, reported plans by Egyptian authorities for indiscriminate mass surveillance of social media in Egypt have alarmed rights advocates and many within the country’s internet community.
The proposed surveillance plan has also sparked fears that internet activists may be the next targets of the military-backed government’s widening crackdown on dissent.
Defending his ministry’s decision to introduce the new mass monitoring system, Egypt’s Minister of Interior Mohamed Ibrahim was quoted by the semi-official Al Ahram newspaper on Monday as saying that the proposed system was “necessary to combat terrorism and protect national security”. He added it would be “similar to that used in the US or the UK to protect their national security”.
Seeking to allay concerns that the new system would curtail freedom of expression, Ibrahim said: “We do not seek to interfere with citizens’ privacy. The system will merely help us track and identify potential terrorist and criminal threats.”
Ibrahim’s statements came a day after the privately-owned Al Watan newspaper published a leaked call by the ministry of interior for tenders from companies to establish a sophisticated mass surveillance system.
In a statement criticising the proposed mass surveillance plan, Amnesty International said the monitoring of social media “would deal a devastating blow to the rights to privacy and freedom of expression in the country”, adding that “the new surveillance system risks becoming yet another instrument in the Egyptian government’s toolbox of state repression”. Amnesty also urged the Egyptian authorities not to replicate illegal programmes that have been used by other countries to violate the right to privacy. “Any surveillance programmes must comply with the general principles under international law of legality and judicial accountability,” the statement said.
Meanwhile, Egyptian rights groups and internet activists have expressed fears the proposed system would “close down the last remaining space for free expression in Egypt”.
Since the ouster of Islamist president Mohamed Morsi by military-backed protests last summer, the interim authorities have taken measures to tighten the state’s grip on the media. Days after the military takeover of the country, several Islamist-linked media outlets were shut down by the interim government. Security forces ransacked the offices of a Muslim Brotherhood TV channel and the Al Jazeera Mubasher Channel (accused by Egyptians of being pro-Muslim Brotherhood), confiscating their equipment and arresting their journalists.There has since been a marked shift in the tone of both state and state-influenced news media with many journalists now towing the government line either for fear of persecution or of being labelled “unpatriotic.” Several journalists have complained of “harassment” and intimidation” by security agencies. In today’s deeply polarised Egypt, reports of verbal and physical attacks by “patriotic” mobs on journalists trying to cover the conflict, are all too common.
Journalists covering “anti coup” protests have been deliberately targeted by security forces with no fewer than five being shot and killed while covering the unrest. Mayada Ashraf who worked for the privately-owned El Dostour newspaper became the latest journalist-victim of the violence when she was shot in the head in March while covering clashes between security forces and supporters of the ousted Morsi. Meanwhile, 65 journalists have been detained since the military takeover of the country nearly a year ago. There are 17 journalists currently behind bars in Egypt, according to a recent report released by the Committee for the Protection of Journalists. Three Al Jazeera English journalists have been in prison for six months, charged with “aiding a terror group and spreading false news that harms national security.” Despite pleading “not guilty”, their repeated requests to be released on bail have thus far been denied by the prosecutors in the case. A fourth Al Jazeera journalist has been in jail since August 2013 and has to date, not been charged.
Besides detecting any references to terrorism on social media, the controversial new system will also scan social networks for “calls for illegal protests and sit-ins, incitement to violence and defamation of religion,” Abdel Fattah Othman, a spokesman for the ministry of interior said in an interview broadcast Sunday on Al Mehwar Channel. In the absence of a “watch list” determining the topics the ministry intends to censor, many internet users are worried, fearing their electronic communications may be targeted.
Responses by Egyptian internet activists to the ministry’s surveillance plan have teetered between anger and sarcasm. Some Twitter users chose to take the matter lightly, mocking the decision in their tweets. #Wearebeingwatched — created by Twitter activists a week ago in response to the proposed plan — has fast become one of the top trending hashtags in Egypt with more than 50,000 uses within the span of a single week.
“State security agents when are you coming to get me?” Mahmoud El Zanaty a Twitter user jokingly asked, using the hashtag.”You never keep your appointments.”
“I’m free, that is why I’m being watched,” was another sarcastic message posted, by a user going by the twitter handle Doaa. Meanwhile, in a message addressed to the “agent” supposedly watching him, another twitter user wrote: “Farrag, come join me for tea!”
While most rights activists fear the proposed surveillance system may be used as a tool of repression, a few rights advocates have dismissed it as “mere government propaganda”.
“State security agencies have always kept a close watch on social media networks in Egypt,” Rights Lawyer Gamal Eid told Index. He cautioned however, that the ministry’s announcement was meant “to intimidate online activists and silence voices of dissent”.
Over the course of the past three years, several activists have been arrested and prosecuted for the content they have posted on social media networks. Blogger Maikel Nabil was arrested in March, 2011 and later sentenced to 3 years in prison for a Facebook post allegedly insulting the military. He had written: “The army and the people were never one hand.” He spent ten months behind bars before being released. In September 2012, Alber Saber, a Computer Science student and blogger was also arrested on allegations of having shared the YouTube trailer of the anti-Islam film “Innocence of Muslims” on his Facebook page. While police found no evidence that he had uploaded the video deemed insulting to Islam, he was nevertheless sentenced to 3 years in prison for “defaming Islam and Christianity” and allegedly “spreading atheism”. Saber was released for an appeal session a year later and subsequently fled the country. Earlier this year, Amr Hamzawy, a prominent liberal intellectual and political scientist was charged with “insulting the judiciary” for a Twitter post criticising a court ruling against three US pro-democracy civil society organisations .
Ahead of the January 2011 uprising, young pro-democracy activists had used social media networks to mobilise and organise the mass protests that brought down autocratic president Hosni Mubarak. Videos depicting police brutality and others urging Egyptians to rise against the corrupt Mubarak regime posted by the April 6 pro-democracy youth movement and “We Are All Khaled Said” — a Facebook page created by Google Executive Wael Ghoneim to bring attention to the brutal murder of a young Alexandrian (allegedly beaten to death by two police officers) — were the initial spark igniting the 2011 uprising, prompting some analysts to describe the revolt of 3 years ago, as a “Facebook Revolution”. Recognising the role of social media in the mass uprising, Mubarak cut off the internet and mobile phone lines in an attempt to quell the protests, a few days after their eruption. His rash response however, triggered public furore and only served to further strengthen the resolve of the Tahrir protesters.
With internet penetration in Egypt at 43 per cent (at the end of last year) — relatively low compared to other countries where illiteracy rates are lower than in Egypt — the Egyptian government is nevertheless wary of social media, having witnessed first-hand the role of Facebook and Twitter in toppling the authoritarian regimes in the region. Despite provisions in the recently-adopted constitution protecting the right to privacy and guaranteeing the confidentiality of electronic correspondence, telephone calls and other means of communication, the military-backed authorities are taking no chances. Systematic monitoring of Facebook, Twitter, You Tube and possibly mobile phone applications such as WhatsApp, Viber and Instagram would enable the government to identify dissenters and possibly, crackdown even harder on them, critics fear.
In the past year, the interim government has shown little respect for freedoms and rule of law. With military strongman Abdel Fattah El Sisi now sworn in as the country’s new president and in the wake of the proposed mass surveillance plan, skeptics warn that things are likely to get even worse as a counter-revolutionary bid seeking to obliterate all traces of the 2011 Revolution that called for bread, freedom and social justice, gains ground in Egypt.
