Much to the dismay of the Ethiopian government in Addis Ababa, “Zone 9” has become a household name in the country.
Since 2012, this small group of journalists-turned-online activists has used social media to campaign for political freedoms and civil liberties in their country.
The group’s success — measured, for example, by the flood of likes and comments on its Facebook page — has come in spite of government efforts to silence the writers, including the arrest of six members in 2014 on trumped-up terrorism charges.
Ethiopia’s government is not alone in seeking to consolidate political power by restricting what citizens say online.
Across Africa, governments are enacting legislation to restrict Internet access and outlaw criticism of elected officials. Digital campaigners face myriad censorship tactics, including “border gateway protocol” attacks, “http throttling,” and “deep packet inspections.”
The irony, of course, is that censorship rarely quiets the disaffected. Rather than quelling dissent, government intervention only inspires more people to take their grievances to WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter and other social media platforms, where Africans are increasingly challenging corrupt governments, exposing rigged elections and demanding to be heard.
However, at the moment, few of Africa’s leaders are listening.
Leaders in nine of the 18 African countries that held elections last year placed some level of restriction on the Internet to limit dissent.
Four days prior to Uganda’s presidential vote in February, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni cut access to mobile payment services and social media sites. In August and September, Gabonese President Ali Bongo, seeking to project an atmosphere of calm to the international community, shut down Internet access overnight.
In December, officials in the Democratic Republic of the Congo ordered an Internet shutdown the day before Congolese President Joseph Kabila was scheduled to leave office, thereby quashing online dissent when he refused to step down.
Internet blackouts like these violate people’s human rights and undermine democratic processes.
Last year, the UN Human Rights Council approved a resolution affirming that “rights that people have offline must also be protected online, in particular freedom of expression.”
Most African governments try to justify Internet embargoes by arguing that the restrictions are necessary to ensure public safety and security. Museveni, for example, claimed that blocking Internet access was the only way to protect visiting heads of state during his swearing-in ceremony.
However, he presented no evidence linking social media accessibility and security in Uganda, or anywhere else.
People typically feel less secure without the Internet, because they cannot access information or connect with friends and family in times of uncertainty, said Access Now, an international advocacy group for digital rights.
With several key African elections coming up, Internet shutdowns are again on the horizon.
In Zimbabwe, where 93-year-old President Robert Mugabe is expected to run for his eighth term in the middle of next year, a government-led crackdown appears inevitable.
For decades, Mugabe has relied on intimidation and violence to stifle political dissent. It is not surprising, then, that he has already begun taking a hostile approach to online activism.
Last year, his government shut down the Internet in the middle of political protests and vowed to arrest anyone caught generating or sharing “abusive or subversive material on social media.”
However, citizens are not helpless. While governments issue orders to cut off Internet access, only telecommunications companies have the ability to hit the “kill switch.”
That is why Africa’s bloggers and online activists must work more closely with investors and shareholders of communications firms to convince them to stand up for democracy and human rights by resisting illiberal government directives.
Moreover, civil-society groups, the African Union and the UN should do more to condemn national legislation that aims to normalize restrictive Internet policies.
Just as it launched a model law on access to information in 2013, the African Union should provide new guidance to states on how to safeguard the right to assemble and express views online.
Finally, new continent-wide measures are needed to ensure that Africans’ online rights are recognized and respected by their governments.
Although the UN Human Rights Council’s resolution to protect online freedoms is not binding, it offers a starting point for ensuring that governments allow citizens to use the Internet as a tool to maximize political participation.
Such interventions are needed now more than ever. The Kenyan, Zimbabwean and Ethiopian legislatures are considering laws that would permit significantly greater government control over Internet access. Last year, Tanzania adopted legislation that has already been used to charge people who have criticized Tanzanian President John Magufuli on social media with crimes.
Whether governments bar citizens from gathering in public, signing petitions or accessing the Internet and posting on social media makes no difference. All such measures are designed to strip citizens of their rights.
The battle for freedom, as Zone 9 has shown, is no less real when the public square is the digital domain.
Kizito Byenkya is a senior program specialist at the Open Society Human Rights Initiative. Alex Humphrey is a policy associate at the Open Society Foundations.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
Two sets of economic data released last week by the Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics (DGBAS) have drawn mixed reactions from the public: One on the nation’s economic performance in the first quarter of the year and the other on Taiwan’s household wealth distribution in 2021. GDP growth for the first quarter was faster than expected, at 6.51 percent year-on-year, an acceleration from the previous quarter’s 4.93 percent and higher than the agency’s February estimate of 5.92 percent. It was also the highest growth since the second quarter of 2021, when the economy expanded 8.07 percent, DGBAS data showed. The growth
In the intricate ballet of geopolitics, names signify more than mere identification: They embody history, culture and sovereignty. The recent decision by China to refer to Arunachal Pradesh as “Tsang Nan” or South Tibet, and to rename Tibet as “Xizang,” is a strategic move that extends beyond cartography into the realm of diplomatic signaling. This op-ed explores the implications of these actions and India’s potential response. Names are potent symbols in international relations, encapsulating the essence of a nation’s stance on territorial disputes. China’s choice to rename regions within Indian territory is not merely a linguistic exercise, but a symbolic assertion
More than seven months into the armed conflict in Gaza, the International Court of Justice ordered Israel to take “immediate and effective measures” to protect Palestinians in Gaza from the risk of genocide following a case brought by South Africa regarding Israel’s breaches of the 1948 Genocide Convention. The international community, including Amnesty International, called for an immediate ceasefire by all parties to prevent further loss of civilian lives and to ensure access to life-saving aid. Several protests have been organized around the world, including at the University of California Los Angeles (UCLA) and many other universities in the US.
Every day since Oct. 7 last year, the world has watched an unprecedented wave of violence rain down on Israel and the occupied Palestinian Territories — more than 200 days of constant suffering and death in Gaza with just a seven-day pause. Many of us in the American expatriate community in Taiwan have been watching this tragedy unfold in horror. We know we are implicated with every US-made “dumb” bomb dropped on a civilian target and by the diplomatic cover our government gives to the Israeli government, which has only gotten more extreme with such impunity. Meantime, multicultural coalitions of US