The support for
freedom of expression that was coupled with the denunciation of terrorism
during last weekend’s rally in Paris
was phenomenal, but how resilient is it going to be in the face of various forms
of intimidation?
Holding pencils
and pens skyward in a show of solidarity was one thing, but what now? Freedom
of expression remains a tangled and contentious issue with no uniformity of
opinion on just how free the freedom should be.
On top of a unanimous
condemnation of the Paris attacks, politicians of all parties in the Portuguese
parliament united in a resolution strongly backing freedom of expression in the
press, which is already enshrined in the constitution.
A few days
earlier, however, an expression of a more subtle and slightly ominous kind was
daubed on the main door and a wall of the central mosque in Lisbon. It was
simply the number 1143 scrawled the night after the imam of the mosque had described
the Charlie Hebdo attack an “act of
barbarity” and pointed out that “it has nothing to do with Islam.”
The number 1143 refers to the year Portugal became an
independent kingdom while parts of the country were still occupied by the Muslim
Moors. It is believed to have been adopted as a symbol of a small neo-Nazi
group in Portugal of whom little is
heard compared to the outspoken far-right organisations in France and elsewhere
in Europe.
The imam told the
newspaper Público that the graffiti
was “provocative… but we don’t feel threatened.”
Still, it was deliberately
offensive and that is when freedom of expression of any kind starts to become questionable,
both morally and legally.
Freedom of
expression is a Western value, not an absolute right. Although political
leaders pay lip service to it, they do not always fully endorse it. France bans
Muslim women from wearing the hijab. The utterance of a few insulting words
by a well-known person in Britain can cause national outrage. The wrong kind of
Twitter message can get you locked up. Write what you consider to be an accurate,
honest and truthful book about a criminal investigation and you could face
years of court action and a crippling bill at the end of it.
Freedom of
expression has little relevance in countries such as China and none at all in North
Korea. Nor does it mean anything to extremist Muslims.
USA Today published an open letter from the
radical cleric Anjem Choudary saying, “Contrary to popular misconception, Islam
does not mean peace but rather means submission to the commands of Allah alone.
Therefore, Muslims do not believe in the concept of freedom of expression, as
their speech and actions are determined by divine revelation and not based on
people’s desires.”
The assassins who
massacred 13 people in Paris were apparently happy to die as martyrs in avenging the publication of cartoons of the prophet
Mohammad, but their efforts to curtail freedom of expression could not have
been more counter productive. Their savagery only brought the cartoons to the
attention of a vastly greater audience than the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo could otherwise have
dreamt of.
When the emotions
of last week’s events in Paris have settled, hopefully the pen will still be
regarded as mightier than the AK47, but even the fiercest advocates of zero
censorship will be faced with limits to their freedom of expression.
Not all who
strongly support freedom of expression in principle agree that it should be
limitless. Nor is there agreement where the boundaries should be drawn. It will
always be contentious – and that’s fine.
Charlie Hebdo was openly anti-religious and it did not
confine its ridicule to the Muslim religion. But because Christians are less
likely to be offended by mockery of Jesus Christ, does that mean Muslims should
feel the same way about fun poked at Mohammad?
Looked at from
another angle, if censorship starts with Mohammad, where does it stop?
If freedom of
expression cannot be absolute, surely it demands moral responsibility. Not
everyone is a Je Suis Charlie admirer and most professional journalists agree
that even without being cowed by the threat of violent retribution, some form
of self-regulation and legal restraint is appropriate.
Offence is in the
eye of the beholder. Like it or not, the media is going to remain offensive to
some, one way or another. A good example is the anger expressed last August by
admirers of Sir Cliff Richard while he was relaxing in his holiday home in the
Algarve.
The fans were
shocked by the BBC’s live coverage from a hovering helicopter of the police raid
on the singer’s Berkshire home. The unannounced raid was in connection with an
allegation of sexual abuse of a boy under the age of 16.
Hundreds of viewers
complained to the BBC that its coverage made Sir Cliff look guilty even before
he had been questioned by police about accusations he subsequently dismissed as
“completely false.”
The Daily Mail, itself no stranger to plying
offensive stories about celebrities, last week described the BBC as “shameless”
in submitting its raid coverage for the ‘scoop of the year’ prize at next
month’s Royal Television Society journalism awards.
The point here is
that the BBC still faces the threat of legal action because, according to Sir
Cliff’s lawyer, the coverage caused “immeasurable harm to our
client and was both premature and disproportionate.”
Whatever the rights or
wrongs of this particular case, news organisations in Portugal and in the
rest of the democratic world can be counted on to resist any attempts,
especially by the powerful, rich or famous, to curb what they regard as honest
reporting in the public interest.
Defending freedom
of expression will be the focus of a timely two-day conference that will bring
together journalists and lawyers in Lisbon at the beginning of next week.
The conference
ends the day before a resumption of the protracted trial in which Kate and
Gerry McCann are seeking damages of more than €1 million from the author and former
detective Gonçalo Amaral because he decided to publish a theory they
wholeheartedly disagreed with.