Daily Star: The Elusive Myth of Press Freedom
This Op-Ed piece is from Mirette Mabrouk, the Publisher of The Daily Star-Egypt. The Star is the most well-respected English paper in the Middle East, and publishes two daily versions, one focusing on Egypt and the other on Lebanon.
Mabrouk's essay is spot-on. The specter of tighter restrictions on freedom of expression hovers over Egypt, and after recent protests in favour of an independent judiciary ended in violent crack-downs everyone seems to be waiting for the next foot to drop, or the next boot to angrily stomp.
Next Sunday there is a scheduled protest outside of Parliament against the addition of the new speech-related offenses into the Penal Code. I am curious to see how the regime and the military respond.
The Elusive Myth of Press Freedom
By Mirette F. MabroukFirst Published: July 8, 2006
We're Egyptians, we like fairy tales. Aly Baba and the 40 Thieves, Joha, One Thousand and One Nights.
Oh, and the most modern of our fairy tales; the one about social and political reform.
Most Egyptians know that one; it's ongoing. If only Scheherazade'd had access to that one, she'd have been busy for a lot longer than the 1001 nights.
One of the world's oldest civilizations, Egypt's been through the gamut of social and political experiences. The democratic one, however, with its resident trappings of civil rights and political freedom, judicial independence and effective non-governmental institutions, is still eluding us.
When President Hosni Mubarak pushed through a referendum on an amendment to article 76 on multi-candidate presidential elections, people held their breath. While the referendum and the decision were slammed by various parties, there was no doubt that they led to a first in this country's history; multi-party presidential elections last September 7. There were drawbacks, of course. The other nine candidates were a motley crew, many of whom were known only to their closest friends. And there was never any doubt about the outcome. Mubarak swept to victory with the kind of majority that most presidents in democratic countries see only in their sweetest dreams. But the elections themselves were, by the account of non-partisan observers (many of whom would have been delighted to find irregularities) were clean. For a brief few weeks, Egyptians dared to hope. Of course, less than two months later, the parliamentary elections, drenched in violence and allegations of corruption and vote-rigging dashed those hopes. But at least we were back on familiar ground.
The problem with hopes of freedom or democracy is that they're like mosquitoes in summer, they just won't go away. No matter how much you swat, they continue to hum persistently in your ear.
The government's ears must be ringing. First it was the whole embarrassing debacle with the Judges Club, almost 2000 members are voicing that irritating notion that the judiciary should be independent. That's an ongoing saga, with two judges having been hauled in front of a court for voicing allegations of corruption, including vote-rigging, in the parliamentary elections. And a few days ago, the news came that that much-hyped amendments to the Press Law had been rejected by the Journalists' Syndicate.
Egypt is one of very few countries that allows for imprisonment over libels (most countries limit themselves with back-breaking fines). In Egypt, under the 1996 law, libel or defamation are punishable by a LE 1,000 to LE 5,000 fine, or a maximum of one year in prison.
If the subject of the libel is a public official, then the maximum penalty skyrockets to LE 5,000 to LE 20,000 fine and the prison sentence doubles, to two years. It doesn't take a political scientist to draw the conclusion that this might be detrimental to the ability of the press to hold public officials accountable. More disturbingly, there are no clear parameters as to what constitutes `defamation.'
On February 23rd, 2004 Mubarak stood up and said that was a sorry state of affairs, and that journalists should have protection, enabling them to do their jobs without fear of imprisonment.
Over two years later a draft of the new law has been presented by the government. It was hailed by senior National Democratic party (NDP) officials. Among them were Gamal Mubarak and Safwat El-Sherif to be the `positive step toward reform' and ensure `a press victory.'
The Journalists' Syndicate failed to share their view. The law still stipulates a summary prison term of one to two years, but it's now a maximum LE 30,000 fine – or prison. Journalists may be protected from a prison sentence, under exceptional circumstances, the `exceptional circumstances' have not been defined. In fact, according to Sayyed Abuzeid, lawyer to the Journalists' Syndicate, article 302 of the previous law, which allowed for the provision of absence of malice, has been revoked. Absence of malice is where a journalist says that they have no personal axe to grind, or in other words, it isn't personal – it's just business.
On average, journalism is not a particularly well-paid profession and few are going to be able to drag LE 30,000 out of their pockets. Their papers will be just as loath to do so and Egypt still hasn't caught onto libel insurance in a big way. And if one ignores crippling debt, one still has the threat of punishment hanging over one's head merely for doing one's job.
Reaction to the draft law has been intense: the Syndicate is frothing at the mouth. Seven independent papers are going on a one-day strike on Sunday July 9 to protest and even the state-owned papers can't help being appalled. “Down with journalism and long live corruption,” wailed Ahmed Ragab in Al Ahram.
Mohamed Ali Ibrahim of Al-Gomhouriya was more tentative in his phrasing but dismally precise in the notion he presented. “The way in which new punishments have been sought makes journalists doubt the government's intentions.”
It's delicately phrased, but it's a safe bet that most journalists already doubt the government's intentions.
It's uncertain what the government is worried about exactly. The average Egyptian has a weary, bone-deep conviction that corruption is a fact of life. They're unlikely to be shocked by anything they read in the paper. And if the government is serious about reform, how can it possibly justify this muzzling of the country's press? If you're studying journalism at university, you'll be taught that one of the functions of the press is its `watch-dog function.' The press is what stands between the people and the abuse of power. If the press cannot watch over public officials, then what is it supposed to warn the public about? Pickpockets and adulterers?
Editor of Al-Dustour Ibrahim Eissa this week received a one year sentence for running an article about a man who is suing the president and his family for abuse of national funds. Hardly surprisingly, the reporter who covered the story for the paper and the man who raised the suit have also been sentenced by the court. Eissa's conviction was for `insulting the president and spreading rumors which threaten public security.' He didn't accuse the president - he covered a lawsuit. In other words, he's been sentenced merely for reporting a fact. It's the most basic tenet of this profession.
The whiplash will rake across more backs than Eissa's.
Mabrouk's essay is spot-on. The specter of tighter restrictions on freedom of expression hovers over Egypt, and after recent protests in favour of an independent judiciary ended in violent crack-downs everyone seems to be waiting for the next foot to drop, or the next boot to angrily stomp.
Next Sunday there is a scheduled protest outside of Parliament against the addition of the new speech-related offenses into the Penal Code. I am curious to see how the regime and the military respond.
The Elusive Myth of Press Freedom
By Mirette F. MabroukFirst Published: July 8, 2006
We're Egyptians, we like fairy tales. Aly Baba and the 40 Thieves, Joha, One Thousand and One Nights.
Oh, and the most modern of our fairy tales; the one about social and political reform.
Most Egyptians know that one; it's ongoing. If only Scheherazade'd had access to that one, she'd have been busy for a lot longer than the 1001 nights.
One of the world's oldest civilizations, Egypt's been through the gamut of social and political experiences. The democratic one, however, with its resident trappings of civil rights and political freedom, judicial independence and effective non-governmental institutions, is still eluding us.
When President Hosni Mubarak pushed through a referendum on an amendment to article 76 on multi-candidate presidential elections, people held their breath. While the referendum and the decision were slammed by various parties, there was no doubt that they led to a first in this country's history; multi-party presidential elections last September 7. There were drawbacks, of course. The other nine candidates were a motley crew, many of whom were known only to their closest friends. And there was never any doubt about the outcome. Mubarak swept to victory with the kind of majority that most presidents in democratic countries see only in their sweetest dreams. But the elections themselves were, by the account of non-partisan observers (many of whom would have been delighted to find irregularities) were clean. For a brief few weeks, Egyptians dared to hope. Of course, less than two months later, the parliamentary elections, drenched in violence and allegations of corruption and vote-rigging dashed those hopes. But at least we were back on familiar ground.
The problem with hopes of freedom or democracy is that they're like mosquitoes in summer, they just won't go away. No matter how much you swat, they continue to hum persistently in your ear.
The government's ears must be ringing. First it was the whole embarrassing debacle with the Judges Club, almost 2000 members are voicing that irritating notion that the judiciary should be independent. That's an ongoing saga, with two judges having been hauled in front of a court for voicing allegations of corruption, including vote-rigging, in the parliamentary elections. And a few days ago, the news came that that much-hyped amendments to the Press Law had been rejected by the Journalists' Syndicate.
Egypt is one of very few countries that allows for imprisonment over libels (most countries limit themselves with back-breaking fines). In Egypt, under the 1996 law, libel or defamation are punishable by a LE 1,000 to LE 5,000 fine, or a maximum of one year in prison.
If the subject of the libel is a public official, then the maximum penalty skyrockets to LE 5,000 to LE 20,000 fine and the prison sentence doubles, to two years. It doesn't take a political scientist to draw the conclusion that this might be detrimental to the ability of the press to hold public officials accountable. More disturbingly, there are no clear parameters as to what constitutes `defamation.'
On February 23rd, 2004 Mubarak stood up and said that was a sorry state of affairs, and that journalists should have protection, enabling them to do their jobs without fear of imprisonment.
Over two years later a draft of the new law has been presented by the government. It was hailed by senior National Democratic party (NDP) officials. Among them were Gamal Mubarak and Safwat El-Sherif to be the `positive step toward reform' and ensure `a press victory.'
The Journalists' Syndicate failed to share their view. The law still stipulates a summary prison term of one to two years, but it's now a maximum LE 30,000 fine – or prison. Journalists may be protected from a prison sentence, under exceptional circumstances, the `exceptional circumstances' have not been defined. In fact, according to Sayyed Abuzeid, lawyer to the Journalists' Syndicate, article 302 of the previous law, which allowed for the provision of absence of malice, has been revoked. Absence of malice is where a journalist says that they have no personal axe to grind, or in other words, it isn't personal – it's just business.
On average, journalism is not a particularly well-paid profession and few are going to be able to drag LE 30,000 out of their pockets. Their papers will be just as loath to do so and Egypt still hasn't caught onto libel insurance in a big way. And if one ignores crippling debt, one still has the threat of punishment hanging over one's head merely for doing one's job.
Reaction to the draft law has been intense: the Syndicate is frothing at the mouth. Seven independent papers are going on a one-day strike on Sunday July 9 to protest and even the state-owned papers can't help being appalled. “Down with journalism and long live corruption,” wailed Ahmed Ragab in Al Ahram.
Mohamed Ali Ibrahim of Al-Gomhouriya was more tentative in his phrasing but dismally precise in the notion he presented. “The way in which new punishments have been sought makes journalists doubt the government's intentions.”
It's delicately phrased, but it's a safe bet that most journalists already doubt the government's intentions.
It's uncertain what the government is worried about exactly. The average Egyptian has a weary, bone-deep conviction that corruption is a fact of life. They're unlikely to be shocked by anything they read in the paper. And if the government is serious about reform, how can it possibly justify this muzzling of the country's press? If you're studying journalism at university, you'll be taught that one of the functions of the press is its `watch-dog function.' The press is what stands between the people and the abuse of power. If the press cannot watch over public officials, then what is it supposed to warn the public about? Pickpockets and adulterers?
Editor of Al-Dustour Ibrahim Eissa this week received a one year sentence for running an article about a man who is suing the president and his family for abuse of national funds. Hardly surprisingly, the reporter who covered the story for the paper and the man who raised the suit have also been sentenced by the court. Eissa's conviction was for `insulting the president and spreading rumors which threaten public security.' He didn't accuse the president - he covered a lawsuit. In other words, he's been sentenced merely for reporting a fact. It's the most basic tenet of this profession.
The whiplash will rake across more backs than Eissa's.
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