Win, lose or draw: the Iranian cartoonist Mana Neyestani was jailed in 2006
Show Hide image

Doodles with death: the brutal mistreatment of cartoonists in the Middle East

The experience of cartoonists like Ali Ferzat, whose hands were broken in 2011, provides a bleak backdrop to the Charlie Hebdo massacre.

Clutching his bulging suitcase, Bashar al-Assad jerks his right thumb out to hitch a ride. He is gesturing to Muammar al-Gaddafi, frenziedly chugging towards him in a getaway car.

It was this simple drawing – calling on the Syrian president and the former Libyan leader to flee during the Arab spring – that led to a brutal act of censorship by Syrian security forces. The man behind the sketch, one of the Arab world’s best-known cartoonists, Ali Ferzat, was beaten up before dawn in Damascus in 2011. The masked gunmen removed the one weapon on his person: they broke his hands.

The experience of cartoonists such as Ferzat, doodling with death in the Middle East, provides a bleak backdrop to the Charlie Hebdo massacre in France. The attack provoked a collective shock that journalists in a western democracy could lose their lives exercising their right to free expression. Imagine, then, the risks that their counterparts are taking in nations that are less respectful of human rights, where they encounter not only censorship but imprisonment, beatings, exile and execution.

In Iran, the cartoonist Mana Neyestani was imprisoned in 2006 for depicting a cockroach speaking Azeri. He fled the country at the first opportunity and now lives in exile in France. Another Iranian cartoonist who riled the authorities, Kianoush Ramezani, a political refugee since 2009, calls cartooning “the art of danger”. He fled when the government began to arrest his friends: bloggers, activists, journalists. “We just had to leave the country,” he says grimly.

Ramezani is particularly scathing about self-censorship, in which fear and financial necessity force some to acquiesce. “There is no free or independent media inside my country,” he says. “If you want to work, you need to accept some red lines. Then, in my opinion, you’re not a cartoonist. You do propaganda for a regime.”

His recommendation to those who wish to draw with integrity is to “leave the country”. Last year, he said in a Tedx talk: “In order to do my job, I need some things: pen, paper, maybe a hand – and a secure society to give me freedom of expression.”

Also on hand for advice is Robert Russell, the founder and director of Cartoonists Rights Network International. He calls the Middle East “the most dangerous place in the world for cartoonists” and insists that those who “stick their big toe over the red line really have to have some alternatives”.

“We recommend they have what we call a ‘bail bag’,” he says: “a suitcase with an airline ticket in it, $1,000, a way to get out quickly, or to go to a safe house easily . . . collect their most trusted friends and relatives and be prepared to disappear for a while.”

It is poignant that cartoons are a more potent political tool in the Middle East than they are in the west. The Turkish-born academic Fatma Müge Göçek, a sociology professor and the editor of Political Cartoons in the Middle East, argues: “In countries where there is no freedom of expression, where to think things that are revolutionary or destabilising is in itself a crime, text is easier to punish. A cartoon has much more legal space within which to define oneself than something you write.”

Russell points out that there is a double jeopardy for cartoonists drawing in non-or pseudo-democratic states: terrorist groups and ruling regimes alike “are equal-opportunity oppressors”, in his eyes. “It just depends who the cartoonist is bothering that day.” 

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 January 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The Jihadis Among Us

Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

In focusing on the famous few, we risk doing a disservice to all victims of child sexual abuse

There is a danger that we make it harder, not easier, for victims to come forward in future. 

Back in the 1970s when relations between journalists and police were somewhat different to today a simple ritual would be carried out around the country at various times throughout the week.

Reporters, eager for information for their regional newspaper, would take a trip to the local station and there would be met by a desk sergeant who would helpfully skim through details in the crime Incident Book.

Among the entries about petty thefts, burglaries and road accidents there would occasionally be a reference to an allegation of incest. And at this point the sergeant and journalist might well screw-up their faces, shake their heads and swiftly move on to the next log. The subject was basically taboo, seen as something ‘a bit mucky,’ not what was wanted in a family newspaper.

And that’s really the way things stayed until 1986 when ChildLine was set up by Dame Esther Rantzen in the wake of a BBC programme about child abuse. For the first time children felt able to speak out about being sexually assaulted by the very adults whose role in life was to protect them.

And for the first time the picture became clear about what incest really meant in many cases. It wasn’t simply a low level crime to be swept under the carpet in case it scratched people’s sensitivities. It frequently involved children being abused by members of their close family, repeatedly, over many years.

Slowly but surely as the years rolled on the NSPCC continued to press the message about the prevalence of child sexual abuse, while encouraging victims to come forward. During this time the corrosive effects of this most insidious crime have been painfully detailed by many of those whose lives have been derailed by it. And of course the details of the hundreds of opportunistic sexual assaults committed by Jimmy Savile have been indelibly branded onto the nation’s consciousness.

It’s been a long road - particularly for those who were raped or otherwise abused as children and are now well into their later years - to bring society around to accepting that this is not to be treated as a dark secret that we really don’t want to expose to daylight. Many of those who called our helpline during the early days of the Savile investigation had never told anyone about the traumatic events of their childhoods despite the fact they had reached retirement age.

So, having buried the taboo, we seem to be in danger of giving it the kiss of life with the way some cases of alleged abuse are now being perceived.

It’s quite right that all claims of sexual assault should be investigated, tested and, where there is a case, pursued through the judicial system. No one is above the law, whether a ‘celebrity’ or a lord.

But we seem to have lost a sense of perspective when it comes to these crimes with vast resources being allocated to a handful of cases while many thousands of reported incidents are virtually on hold.

The police should never have to apologise for investigating crimes and following leads. However, if allegations are false or cannot be substantiated they should say so. This would be a strength not a weakness.

It is, of course, difficult that in many of the high-profile cases of recent times the identities of those under investigation have not been officially released by the police but have come to light through other means. Yet we have to deal with the world as it is not as we wish it would be and once names are common knowledge the results of the investigations centring on them should be made public.

When it emerges that someone in the public eye is being investigated for historical child abuse it obviously stirs the interest of the media whose appetite can be insatiable. This puts pressure on the police who don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past by allowing offenders to slip through their hands.  And so there is a danger, as has been seen in recent cases, that officers lack confidence in declaring there is a lack of evidence or the allegations are not true. 

The disproportionate weight of media attention given to say, Sir Edward Heath, as opposed to the Bradford grooming gang sentenced this week, shows there is a danger the pendulum is swinging too far the other way. This threatens the painstaking work invested in ensuring the public and our institutions recognise child abuse as a very real danger. 

Whilst high profile cases have helped the cause there is now a real risk that the all-encompassing focus on them does both victims of abuse and those advocating on their behalf a fundamental disservice.

As the public watches high -profile cases collapsing amidst a media fanfare genuine convictions made across the country week in week out go virtually unannounced. If this trend continues they may start to believe that child sexual abuse isn’t the prolific problem we know it to be.

So, while detectives peer into the mists of time, searching for long lost clues, we have to face the unpalatable possibility that offences being committed today will in turn become historical investigations because there is not the manpower to deal with them right now.

Operation Midland, which was set-up to check claims that boys were abused in the 1970s and 80s by a high-level group of paedophiles including politicians, military figures and members of law enforcement agencies, has had up to 40 detectives assigned to it and a similar investigation. Admittedly some of these were murder and major crimes officers but that’s still a large contingent.

In fact if such squads were formed for every historical case the Metropolitan Police would be overwhelmed as last year alone it received reports from nearly 1100 adults – many of them well past retirement age –that they were sexually assaulted when children.

So, now the Goddard Inquiry is in full swing, taking evidence about allegations of child sex crimes involving ‘well known people’ as well as institutional abuse, how do we ensure we don’t fail today’s victims?

If they start to think their stories are going to be diminished by the continuing furore over how some senior public figures have been treated by the police they will stay silent. Therefore we have to continue to encourage them to come forward, to give them the confidence of knowing they will be listened to.

If we don’t we will find ourselves back in those incestuous days where people conspired to say and do nothing to prevent child abuse.

Peter Wanless is Chief Executive of the NSPCC.