Thursday, February 16, 2012

What are African Leaders So Scared Of?

Last year, as a board member for NYU Wagner’s Student Alliance for Africa (WSAFA), I had the pleasure of organizing a panel of journalists whose main topic of focus was Africa. The journalist, who came from a variety of backgrounds and career paths, shared their experiences as journalists working on the ground in African nations. One particular story that one of our journalists shared stuck with me though, and has since made me seriously reflect on the role of journalism in African democracies. I have not gotten this young man’s permission to tell his story on this blog (I hope to have an interview with him at a later date), so details must be kept vague.

In a quest to promote journalistic freedom in his country, he was repeatedly jailed and beaten, often having to be bailed out by his newspaper’s chief editor. He was forced out of his country after covering a protest march against his country’s military junta leadership which turned violent after the members of the junta began firing into the crowd of peaceful protesters. For this young, educated, and well-connected young man, it would have to take much more than a pen and paper (or in this age, a computer) to challenge the status quo in his country.


Sadly, what happened in this man’s country is far from an isolated incident. This past Christmas, I traveled to Sierra Leone where freedom of the press is also restricted, though it is must better than many other African countries. Though Sierra Leone has made major developmental strides given the fact that its brutal civil war ended just shy of one decade ago, it is still deficient in some basic necessities – namely, water. In the capital, where I stayed, clean water is a hassle to come by for the majority of people, regardless of socioeconomic class. There are wells scattered in neighborhoods throughout Freetown, many of which have long lines as soon as dawn arrives with families anxious to start their days. And, incredibly, in some areas, perfectly good water floods the streets, due to broken pipes, pointing to the weak overall infrastructure within the country, most of which was destroyed during the war.

As I was told, the government mandated several years back that water be provided free of cost to Sierra Leonean citizens, which was a great move on their part. They commissioned one company with the disbursal of this water. Employees of the company turned around and sold it, and they still do until this day (this I observed with my own eyes). About two years ago, a man within the company decided to publicly speak out against the corrupt practices of the water company. He was promptly murdered. The twenty-two people charged in his murder were all set free. In any other “democratic” country, this man’s death would have caused an outrage. In Sierra Leone, it did not. A quick internet search reveals very little of this man’s death – just a quick conversation on an old website. Where was the press? Where were the journalists? Some perhaps in the back pockets of these companies, but most of them, I would say, suppressed by fear. And who could really blame them?

This week, The Daily Nation, is reporting that the government of Congo-Kinshasa switched off two broadcasters linked to its opposition leader, one of which was run by the Roman Catholic Church. When interviewed about the matter, a program officer for the Catholic TV station declared that he did not know why the station’s signal had been stopped. To me, it’s clear that this claim was driven by a survival instinct. In his mind, cutting off the station’s signal may very well have been just the beginning. Where could it possibly end? Feigning ignorance was the best option.

Journalism is an essential feature of any nation that has dedicated itself to democratic ideals. Any nation that calls itself democratic (and receives money from the international community to build and strengthen their democracy) must have freedom of the press. Freedom of the press should be protected by that country’s government, and in cases in which it is not, the international community should withhold funding to that country’s government until its conditions are met. Detractors of this suggestion might say that to intervene in another country’s affairs violates its sovereignty. Perhaps, but the international community is meant to keep countries accountable to each other and to their citizens. (Note: I fully recognize that all countries are not on equal footing. That’s another blog posting for another day). Others may argue that withholding aid will keep money away from those citizens who need it most. This is a solid argument, and to that I say, directly fund internationally approved NGOs and civil society organizations (CSOs) – NOT the government, and still take measures to keep them accountable. Cut out the corrupt middleman. Have them tighten their belts and direct siphoned money to its originally intended location.

To the African leader, I ask: Why are you so scared? If you are a good leader, a decent individual, why not be publicly accountable to your people? In the coming months I’ll be monitoring this issue, which will be very pertinent as several African countries will be having elections this year, therefore making it a time in which freedom of the press is most crucial. Stay tuned.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Rest In Peace, David Kato

Unfortunately, it took me roaming around the New York Times to find out who David Kato was. Today marks one year since his brutal murder in his home. In the final weeks of his life, Kato, perhaps the most outspoken LGBT activist Uganda has seen, had been lobbying for the Ugandan parliament to shelve an anti-homosexuality bill. The bill would have required that all Ugandans report all individuals they knew to be gay, and would have required the dealth penalty for gay Ugandans living with HIV. The bill was in fact shelved, but not after Kato was bludgeoned to death in his own home at the age of 46.




Kudos to you Mr. Kato and may your soul rest in perfect peace. This ignorance needs to stop.