Noose, noose everywhere in Africa

These are not the best of times for African journalists. Official noose, not to be mistaken for a necktie, continues to tighten around their elongated necks caused by a hostile operating environment. Think of them as kwashiorkor necks.

The Committee for the Protection of Journalists, CPJ, the very active watchdog over the fate of African journalists, has of recent reported disturbing cases of one African country after another laying the cane across the back of journalists, many of whom are struggling under repressive press laws to merely do their duty to their countries and their people. It has never been easy for journalists in many African countries, especially those ruled by African big men, fossilized dinosaurs who enjoy their self-perpetuation in power at the expense of their own people.

Here is a sampler of these reports in the past one month or so by CPJ. They represent new threats to the news media in an increasingly inhospitable weather of settled or incipient autocracy that passes for strong leadership.

On June 3, police officers from the Central Office for the Repression of Banditry, in the Central African Republic, arrested Landry Ulrich Nguema Ngokpele for alleged defamation. He is the publication director of a private newspaper, Le Quotidien Bangui. He was held overnight and released. That did not end his problem. His alleged sin is not forgiven. He still faces trial. If he is convicted he would face a heavy fine of between $180 and $901.

According to CPJ, “the defamation investigation stems from a complaint filed by Harouna Douamba, the president of Aimons Notre Afrique, a local non-governmental organisation.” His complaint was that the newspaper alleged that he swindled government authorities. He hit back at Ngokpele by claiming that the journalist asked him for money to kill the story, an allegation stoutly denied by the journalist. Under the country’s laws, a journalist could only be fined but not jailed if he loses a defamation case against him. Cold comfort.

Botswana, the tiny south African nation, is perhaps the most stable democracy in Africa. But there the leash is dangled before the press too. CPJ reported an interesting case of the police sometime in 2019 using an Israeli Cellebrite technology to search the cell phone of Tsaone Basimanebotlhe, a political reporter with Mmegi, a local newspaper in Gabarone. The same technology was used again sometime in 2020 to search the phone of another journalist, Oratile Dikologang, who was charged that year for posts in his Facebook account alleging that “police violently interrogated his news sources.”

The police in Botswana have repeatedly resorted to the frequent use of this technology to violate the rights of journalists in that country. In April this year, the police took away phones belonging to David Baaitse, a reporter with Weekend Post and his colleagues. Baaitse said that the tactics by the police were a clear and dangerous threat to press freedom and the right of journalists to protect their news sources from official sniffer dogs. As he rightly put it, “..sources no longer trust us. They no longer deal directly with us.”

This would qualify as benign official repression of the press. Evidence, if any were ever needed, that the assault on press freedom in many African countries takes many forms, some blatant and others so subtle they could hide in plain sight.

Jacob Zuma, the former president of South Africa, was jailed on July 4 for contempt of court. His rather wretched fate triggered social unrest in two provinces, KwaZulu-Natal and Gauteng. The news media in that country are bearing the brunt of the civil unrest and protests that quickly spread beyond the two provinces to other parts of the country. The rioters attacked and looted at least four radio stations in various parts of the country. No one knows who was behind these attacks but there is no evidence that the government had a hand in it. Nevertheless, mob assault on journalists to prevent them from doing their duty cannot be numbered among acts of civilised conduct. It is as bad as direct government assault. The objective is the same – a criminal demonstration of intolerance of reporters looking over the shoulders of the important people.

Local and foreign media organisations in Burundi are not having an easy time of it. In 2018, the country’s media regulator, the National Communication Council, banned the BBC, VOA as well as some local news media organisation, the most prominent being Ikiriho. The  National Commission Council accused the BBC of broadcasting “exaggerated, non-verified, defamatory” reporting on the late President Pierre Nkurunziza. The commission withdrew the BBC licence.

The commission is letting in the sun somewhat into the banned media. It has lifted the ban on Ikiriho. On June 16, it said that the BBC could apply for the renewal of its licence. VOA appears to have a more difficult case. The National Communication Council would lift the ban only if the American broadcast organisation produces an unnamed Swahili journalist. VOA has refused to comply. In February this year, Burundian Supreme Court convicted seven journalists in absentia. The law has a long reach.

Muthoki Mumo, CPJ representative in Sub-Saharan Africa, said that “despite tentative gestures towards allowing more news media to work, the outrageous demand that a journalist be surrendered to authorities before the VOA’s suspension can be lifted and the continued silencing of other outlets show that Burundi remains a fundamentally hostile environment for the press.”

On with the catalogue of African shame. Ethiopia was not famous for press freedom but when the new prime minister, Ably Ahmed, assumed office in 2018, one of the first welcome steps he took was to unchain the press in his country. He released jailed journalists and lifted the ban on media outlets that had been under lock and key. But, as often happens in Africa, the sun only peeped through the dark cloud. CPJ reports that this year alone, it documented cases of physical assaults, arbitrary arrests and the expulsion of one journalist from the country. The authorities instituted a telecommunication blackout in the conflict-ridden Tigray region. It also reported that the police raided the homes of some freelance journalists.

On July 14 or so, the Ethiopia Media Authority withdrew the operating licence of Addis Standard and forced it to suspend operations. CPJ’s Muthoki Mumo calls it “…the latest demonstration of the government’s hostility towards independent journalism.” He described Addis Standard as “..an important source of critical reporting and commentary on Ethiopia.” The voice has been silenced for now.

Back home in Nigeria, journalists are fighting what they call a draconian bill before the national assembly that would once more, foul the operating environment and padlock the lips of the independent media outlets. It never rains for the press in Africa. It always pours.