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The latest issue of Index on Censorship explores anonymity through a range of in-depth features, interviews and illustrations from around the world. The special report looks at the pros and cons of masking identities from the perspective of a variety of players, from online trolls to intelligence agencies, whistleblowers, activists, artists, journalists, bloggers and fixers.
Former CIA agent Valerie Plame Wilson writes on the damage done when her cover was blown, journalist John Lloyd looks at how terrorist attacks have affected surveillance needs worldwide, Bangladeshi blogger Ananya Azad explains why he was forced into exile after violent attacks on secular writers, philosopher Julian Baggini looks at the power of literary aliases through the ages, Edward Lucas shares The Economist’s perspective on keeping its writers unnamed, John Crace imagines a meeting at Trolls Anonymous, and Caroline Lees looks at how local journalists, or fixers, can be endangered, or even killed, when they are revealed to be working with foreign news companies. There are are also features on how Turkish artists moonlight under pseudonyms to stay safe, how Chinese artists are being forced to exhibit their works in secret, and an interview with Los Angeles street artist Skid Robot.
Outside of the themed report, this issue also has a thoughtful essay by novelist Hilary Mantel, called Blot, Erase, Delete, about the importance of committing to your words, whether you’re a student, an author, or a politician campaigner in the Brexit referendum. Andrey Arkhangelsky looks back at the last 10 years of Russian journalism, in the decade after the murder of investigative reporter Anna Politkovskaya. Uzbek writer Hamid Ismailov looks at how metaphor has taken over post-Soviet literature and prevented it tackling reality head-on. Plus there is poetry from Chilean-French director Alejandro Jodorowsky and Russian writer Maria Stepanova, plus new fiction from Turkey and Egypt, via Kaya Genç and Basma Abdel Aziz.
There is art work from Molly Crabapple, Martin Rowson, Ben Jennings, Rebel Pepper, Eva Bee, Brian John Spencer and Sam Darlow.
You can order your copy here, or take out a digital subscription via Exact Editions. Copies are also available at the BFI, the Serpentine Gallery, MagCulture, (London), News from Nowhere (Liverpool), Home (Manchester), Calton Books (Glasgow) and on Amazon. Each magazine sale helps Index on Censorship continue its fight for free expression worldwide.
Index on Censorship magazine was started in 1972 and remains the only global magazine dedicated to free expression. Past contributors include Samuel Beckett, Gabriel García Marquéz, Nadine Gordimer, Arthur Miller, Salman Rushdie, Margaret Atwood, and many more.
Anonymity: worth defending, by Rachael Jolley: False names can be used by the unscrupulous but the right to anonymity needs to be defended
Under the wires, by Caroline Lees : A look at local “fixers”, who help foreign correspondents on the ground, can face death threats and accusations of being spies after working for international media
Art attack, by Jemimah Steinfeld: Ai Weiwei and other artists have increased the popularity of Chinese art, but censorship has followed
Naming names, by Suhrith Parthasarathy: India has promised to crack down on online trolls, but the right to anonymity is also threatened
Secrets and spies, by Valerie Plame Wilson: The former CIA officer on why intelligence agents need to operate undercover, and on the damage done when her cover was blown in a Bush administration scandal
Undercover artist, by Jan Fox: Los Angeles street artist Skid Robot explains why his down-and-out murals never carry his real name
A meeting at Trolls Anonymous, by John Crace: A humorous sketch imagining what would happen if vicious online commentators met face to face
Whose name is on the frame? By Kaya Genç: Why artists in Turkey have adopted alter egos to hide their more political and provocative works
Spooks and sceptics, by John Lloyd: After a series of worldwide terrorist attacks, the public must decide what surveillance it is willing to accept
Privacy and encryption, by Bethany Horne: An interview with human rights researcher Jennifer Schulte on how she protects herself in the field
“I have a name”, by Ananya Azad: A Bangladeshi blogger speaks out on why he made his identity known and how this put his life in danger
The smear factor, by Rupert Myers: The power of anonymous allegations to affect democracy, justice and the political system
Stripsearch cartoon, by Martin Rowson: When a whistleblower gets caught …
Signing off, by Julian Baggini: From Kierkegaard to JK Rowling, a look at the history of literary pen names and their impact
The Snowden effect, by Charlie Smith: Three years after Edward Snowden’s mass-surveillance leaks, does the public care how they are watched?
Leave no trace, by Mark Frary: Five ways to increase your privacy when browsing online
Goodbye to the byline, by Edward Lucas: A senior editor at The Economist explains why the publication does not name its writers in print
What’s your emergency? By Jason DaPonte: How online threats can lead to armed police at your door
Yakety yak (don’t hate back), by Sean Vannata: How a social network promising anonymity for users backtracked after being banned on US campuses
Blot, erase, delete, by Hilary Mantel: How the author found her voice and why all writers should resist the urge to change their past words
Murder in Moscow: Anna’s legacy, by Andrey Arkhangelsky: Ten years after investigative reporter Anna Politkovskaya was killed, where is Russian journalism today?
Writing in riddles, byHamid Ismailov: Too much metaphor has restricted post-Soviet literature
Owners of our own words, by Irene Caselli: Aftermath of a brutal attack on an Argentinian newspaper
Sackings, South Africa and silence, by Natasha Joseph: What is the future for public broadcasting in southern Africa after the sackings of SABC reporters?
“Journalists must not feel alone”, by Can Dündar: An exiled Turkish editor on the need to collaborate internationally so investigations can cross borders
Global view, by Jodie Ginsberg: Europe’s right-to-be-forgotten law pushed to new extremes after a Belgian court rules that individuals can force newspapers to edit archive articles
Index around the world, by Josie Timms: Rounding up Index’s recent work, from a hip-hop conference to the latest from Mapping Media Freedom
What ever happened to Luther Blissett? By Vicky Baker: How Italian activists took the name of an unsuspecting English footballer, and still use it today
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”SUBSCRIBE” css=”.vc_custom_1481736449684{margin-right: 0px !important;margin-left: 0px !important;border-bottom-width: 1px !important;padding-bottom: 15px !important;border-bottom-color: #455560 !important;border-bottom-style: solid !important;}”][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship magazine was started in 1972 and remains the only global magazine dedicated to free expression. Past contributors include Samuel Beckett, Gabriel García Marquéz, Nadine Gordimer, Arthur Miller, Salman Rushdie, Margaret Atwood, and many more.[/vc_column_text][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_single_image image=”76572″ img_size=”full”][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]In print or online. Order a print edition here or take out a digital subscription via Exact Editions.
Copies are also available at the BFI, the Serpentine Gallery, MagCulture, (London), News from Nowhere (Liverpool), Home (Manchester), Calton Books (Glasgow) and on Amazon. Each magazine sale helps Index on Censorship continue its fight for free expression worldwide.
Members of the board were asked to write a blog discussing one free speech issue in their country. The resulting posts exhibit a range of challenges to freedom of expression globally, from UK crackdowns on speakers in universities, to Indian criminal defamation law, to the South African Film Board’s newly published guidelines.
Muira McCammon is a member of the Index youth advisory board. Learn more
Guantanamo Bay (GiTMO) is a place where language barriers embody part of the institution’s social architecture.
Two years ago, Peter Jan Honigsberg of the University of San Francisco wrote about linguistic isolation, using the experiences of an Uzbek detainee to highlight this reality. But, we know that during various points throughout GiTMO’s history, dictionaries have been used and even written by detainees. In March 2004, the U.S. Joint Task Force Guantanamo published a revision of its 2003 Camp Delta Standard Operating Procedure, adding “dictionaries” to the list of materials banned from the Guantanamo Bay detainee library. There was no immediate reason given for this policy change, even though, according to a report later released by the US Department of Defense, detainees speak over 18 native languages.
Furthermore, Mahvish Khan, an interpreter and Pashtun-American lawyer, published My Guantanamo Diary: The Detainees and the Stories They Told Me. In the book, Khan shared this anecdote about Taj Mohammad, a then twentysomething from Kunar, Afghanistan:
“He asked us repeatedly to bring him a Pashto-English dictionary so that he could improve his English. Over several months, he had compiled and memorised a list of almost one thousand English words. But during a routine search, the guards had found and confiscated his neatly written glossary.”
Speech is a fickle concept in detention centres, and the story of Mohammad’s confiscated, self-written lexicographic resource raises questions about how detainees in GiTMO or any detention centre for that matter can effectively combat linguistic isolation.
George Orwell’s novel 1984 portrays a violent dystopian society surviving through the continuous suppression and falsification of information. We know first-hand that this is how oppression works throughout the world. One of us (Struckman-Johnson) spent decades piecing together difficult-to-find video clips, news articles, and photos in order to successfully teach about the patriarchal oppression of women around the world. One of us (Sternadori) was cautioned at the age of six by her parents (members of the Bulgarian Communist Party) never to repeat their political jokes, lest something horrible happened just by uttering some words.
We have come to embrace the idea that transparency is crucial to ending any form of violence. This is why we were shocked by the recent fervent attempts — in 2015, in the United States of America — to ban the screening of a documentary, Honor Diaries, which tackles the problem of worldwide honor killings and other violence against women, often embedded in state laws, tradition and political indifference.
Honor Diaries is set to be screened on Friday, 10 April, at 1:45 p.m., in the Muenster University Center Grand Ballroom at the University of South Dakota during the upcoming Women and Gender conference. In addition, Muslim women’s rights activist Raheel Raza, one of the nine women featured in the film, is attending the conference and will participate in a post-screening discussion.
But not all is well just because it ends well. The road to this screening has been fraught with obstacles. The film has been accused of Islamophobia, even though it is supported by groups such as Muslims Facing Tomorrow, the Alliance of Iranian Women and other organizations, most of which are women’s rights groups. The brave women shown in the documentary — like Raheel Raza — are either Muslim or were born in Muslim families, and they speak of making the film as an almost-religious duty to humanity.
The film, however, has faced backlash from other Muslims. According to an opinion piece appearing in The Boston Globe, the attempts to censor the film can be traced to an organization called the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR). Indeed, the organization has campaigned to cancel at least one of the film’s screenings, as indicated by its 2014 letter to the United Nations Foundation.
What is curious is that, as one can see from the letter, CAIR appears to have no issues with the film’s content. The organization does not say that the film’s content is Islamophobic, and does not point to any specific elements in the film it finds questionable. CAIR’s problem seems to be not with the film, but with the two executive producers (who in the film business tend to have limited power over the production content) and one of the film’s 42 partner organizations, the Clarion Project, which is said to have funded the documentary. CAIR denies the female filmmakers any agency by shifting the focus of attention away from their work and away from the issues they raise. This is a textbook example of the so-called “ad hominem” logical fallacy, which entails damning the source while saying nothing about the actual content of the message.
How did this controversy play out at USD? It was more dramatic than we were used to seeing. At first, however, the conversation about screening Honor Diaries occurred in a very peaceful and ordinary manner. The film’s promotional team sent emails to faculty and staff members affiliated with the Women and Gender Studies program at USD, inviting them to host a screening. Some of these faculty and staff members forwarded the emails to one of us (Sternadori), suggesting that the film be included in the program of the Women and Gender conference in April. Then, once the film became part of the conference program in January, a student group, the Association for Advancement of Women’s Rights (AAWR), insistently asked to sponsor the film because “it tells an important story about women’s rights in the global community”.
All seemed well until a faculty member from USD’s College of Health Sciences emailed one of us (Sternadori) to say that she “truly believe[d] that showing this movie goes against ‘Inclusive Excellence’ that this University is working hard to achieve”. She followed up by meeting with other members of the university community and voicing her concerns to them. The tide shifted, and a film that is truly heartbreaking — in ways that should never be politicised — became the centre of a massive controversy.
On 20 March, AAWR sent an email to rescind its sponsorship of Honor Diaries because, according to the message, “we are concerned about disrespecting or presenting biased portrayals of the Muslim community.” At a planning meeting for the Women and Gender conference later that day, members of this women’s student group said they did not want to be involved with the film because their office in the Diversity Center is next to the office of the Muslim Student Association, and it is very important for them to maintain a good working relationship. Then, two USD faculty members insisted on removing the film from the conference program. (In addition, a screening of Honor Diaries scheduled for Sunday, 22 March, by the Campus Activities Board mysteriously disappeared from USD’s program of events).
In the end, to ban or not to ban Honor Diaries from the Women and Gender conference was fought over on two occasions by a group of people (including Sternadori and Struckman-Johnson) raised in communities with Christian roots. On both occasions, a mythical Muslim “community” was present like the elephant in the room. Some people very much wanted to defend it.
But they never considered some important questions: who are we to judge which Muslim community or group is more equal than others? Who are we to agree with CAIR’s condemnation of the film over the support from the Council of Muslims Facing Tomorrow and the Alliance of Iranian Women? And who is afraid of screening a film that exposes truly horrific human rights violations?
Even though Honor Diaries remained on the conference program as planned, some faculty still expressed concerns about how we should “frame” the post-screening discussion, given that no members of the Muslim Student Association and not even the faculty member who initially challenged the film are planning to attend. This raises yet another question: who are we to “frame” anything at a public university, where the free flow of ideas is supposed to be encouraged and not restricted?
This has also been very upsetting because it is not the first time in the history of USD’s Women and Gender conference when certain content has created discomfort and resistance — but it is the first time anyone has tried to ban such content. One of us (Struckman-Johnson) remembers the time in the 1980s when USD’s women faculty won a class action suit challenging the gender wage gap and then-President Joe McFadden set in motion the first women’s conference on campus. Since then, the conference has presented many controversial issues generating much “discomfort” — including abortion rights panels, exposes by Native women challenging tribal corruption (to the great displeasure of their Native communities), and even a presentation by a group of midwives who could have been arrested for participating in the conference.
And in the past few weeks, we have been fighting over which slivers of a community (or a perceived community) are more authentic and more deserving of our attention than others. The misguided effort to ban Honor Diaries has shaken our confidence in USD women’s ability to stand up to the oppression that so conveniently profits others. We cannot imagine that anyone who cares about the misery, suffering, mutilation and murder of women would consider banning this film.
It is encouraging, however, that, since the controversy began, we have seen an incredible outpouring of support. One of us (Sternadori) received approximately 1,270 emails from people thanking her for opposing the attempt to cancel the film screening. Colleagues from other universities expressed support as well. For example, Lyombe (Leo) Eko at the University of Iowa, wrote to say: “Banning this movie from the USD would be a naked act of censorship that is incompatible with everything universities stand for. The USD needs to teach its students that under the First Amendment, the rights of the speaker (the movie makers and Miglena Sternadori) trump the feelings of the viewers (the censors) on matters of public concern.”
We encourage the readers of Index on Censorship to watch Honor Diaries, which streams on Netflix and Amazon, and to carefully consider its content and the grounds on which it has been so vehemently criticised. We also hope that Orwell’s work will continue to be widely read. In 2015, he is as relevant as ever because — contrary to what the Party says in 1984 — ignorance is not strength.
As women, we have been socialized to play well with others. But we should not regard this as a categorical imperative. We know from the unending history of genocide and from experiments like those of Stanley Milgram and Philip Zimbardo that there are times when getting along with some people at the expense of others is the wrong choice that leads to loss of life and indescribable suffering on a large scale.
For us jaded Europeans, the United States’ first amendment, with its simple pledge that the government will keep out of the business of religion and censorship, seems as stubbornly, oafishly American as Hulk Hogan. It’s a loud tourist with a bumbag, wasting his money in an Angus Steakhouse; it’s Burt Reynolds’ moustache; it’s Jane Russell’s specially-constructed brassiere; it’s brash and unsubtle and does not do nuance.
Which is why we’re so ready to accept the idea that a US court has decided that the first amendment concept of free speech trumps all, even sexual harassment. Especially if that court is in Texas, the bit, we imagine, that makes the rest of the United States look sophisticated.
“Texas court upholds right to take ‘upskirt’ pictures”, said the Guardian, while the Independent tweeted “You’re legally allowed to take upskirt pictures in Texas because it’s ‘freedom of expression’” (note the scare quotes).
The stories under the headlines concerned a ruling by the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals in a case concerning a man named Ronald Thompson.
Thompson had been caught taking pictures of children and women at a water park in San Antonio, focusing on what I believe is called the “bikini area”. Thompson reportedly tried to delete the photos as he was apprehended. He was indicted on 26 counts under Texas’ “improper photography or visual recording” law.
Thompson appealed the indictments on the grounds that the law was incompatible with the first amendment. The court agreed with him, leading to the headlines across the world. Most reports, including, it should be said, the American ones, went hard on the “upskirt” or “creepshot” angle, declaring it was now entirely legal to well, be a creep with a camera in Texas.
Is it really? Well, sort of, ish.
The judgement issued by the court is a genuinely fascinating read for anyone interested in free expression, far from the gun-toting, sexual harassment-ignoring, good ole boy decision it has been represented as. It involves discussion about what constitutes the public realm and the nature of consent. It goes into some detail as to whether the act of photography is in itself creative expression, and decides it is.
Some commentators, such as Salon’s Jenny Kutner have picked up on the wording in the judgment suggesting that “Protecting someone who appears in public from being the object of sexual thoughts seems to be the sort of ‘paternalistic interest in regulating the defendant’s mind’” as evidence of a court being more interested in a pervert’s right to perv than a woman’s right not to be harassed.
But it’s actually a point well worth making. Courts and governments cannot be involved in what people find sexually arousing in their imaginations; it’s only if actions cause harm to others that the law should intervene.
This is not, then, a ruling taken lightly. Rather it reviews very seriously a badly written law.
(b) A person commits an offense if the person:
(1) photographs or by videotape or other electronic means records, broadcasts, or transmits a visual image of another at a location that is not a bathroom or private dressing room:
(A) without the other person’s consent; and
(B) with intent to arouse or gratify the sexual desire of any person;
The “bathroom or private dressing room” exclusion seems weird, but is only there because the next clause specifically refers to bathrooms and private dressing rooms, presumably drafted in light of some kind of Chuck Berry scenario (the guitar legend was accused of secretly taping people using bathrooms in his Missouri restaurant).
The problem is that this is far too broadly drawn as a law, but also weirdly specific. What it does not address at all is what might be a reasonable expectation of privacy in public: it is not a serious argument to suggest that one must always actively give consent to being photographed in public space. But it is reasonable to expect that no one should be taking upskirt pictures of you: the judgment acknowledges as much, specifically mentioning upskirt photographs as an “intolerable” breach of privacy.
The weird specificity comes with the “sexual desire” bit; why is this kind of thought worse than any other? Shouldn’t the focus be on the breach (or not) of privacy, rather than what thoughts the images might lead to? Apart from the argument over whether photography is an act of expression, it is this clause that raises free expression problem with the law: put simply, the human mind is capable of eroticising pretty much anything. Any kind of picture could “arouse or gratify the sexual desire of any person”. Once again, the focus is in fact taken away from the act of breaching privacy and towards the act of expression.
In spite of initial appearances, the Texans have done a good thing here. The state will now have to come up with a law that properly balances privacy and free expression, rather than giving just piecemeal thought to either concept.
First amendment cases often solicit astonished responses. But more often than not, a first amendment consideration isn’t just free expression rolling into town in its monstrous, burger chewing, gasoline drinking, Okie from Muskogee way. No. More often than not, the first amendment forces some real thought and analysis to take place in public life.
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