Imprisonment of
Journalists
By: Aaron Berhane
First of all I would like to thank the founders of Qalna for taking the initiative to address
the human rights problems in
I hope your organization will lay the ground for the struggle against human rights abuse
in
It's a great privilege for me to be here and speak on behalf of my colleagues who died in
prison as well as those who are still incommunicado.
My dear colleague Fesshaye Yohannes ( Joshua) died last January after enduring more than five years of torture. Three other journalists also died in prison the previous year.
Thirteen journalists remain in prison camps and we don't know whether they are alive or not.
No charges have been filed against them. What is happening
in
I remember in 1991 when
against
of opinion; Contrary to everybody’s wishes, the press situation in the country has become much worse than it was during colonial times.
The modern printing press was introduced by missionaries
in 1866, and the publication of news began to grow when
However, the Eritrean people did not benefit from these few newspapers. Neither did they have their own forum to practice freedom of expression. And they remained marginalized.
During the British colonial period (1941-1952), a small radical
press of the indigenous political parties appeared for the first time and was a
great hope for Eritreans. Since the British relaxed
censorship in 1947, Eritreans enjoyed free discussion
of issues that concerned them - what was good for the Eritrean people and
Unfortunately our people didn’t get the opportunity
to enjoy this freedom for long, it ended when the UN formed a federation of
When we got independence in 1991, I, like most Eritreans, was optimistic about enjoying freedom of speech–the freedom that the colonialists had denied us. But the Eritrean government wasn’t willing to introduce free discussion.
The Eritrean government was totally reluctant to let the private press flourish, and didn’t allow any critical views of itself. In 1994 and 1995, I sent about six critical pieces to the government-owned media with the hope that they would be published, however all of them ended up in a garbage bag.
If it were not for the pressure of the International
Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank, the private press wouldn't have been
existed in
The Eritrean government had no choice but to accept. It issued a press law in June 1996 that allowed the independent press to exist. Simret Seyoum, Habtom and I jumped in to realize our dreams. And after several months of research, in August 1997, we launched SETIT, the first independent newspaper in the country. Others followed our suit two months later. At one point there were as many as eighteen private newspapers.
The driving force behind the private newspapers was the very positive reaction and the unexpectedly high demand from the Eritrean people. To the delight of the public, the private newspapers reported timely issues that the government media were unwilling to cover. The cooperation between the independent press and its readership was a totally new and happy surprise to all. The number of readers increased rapidly, and Participation of the general public hiked tremendously.
However the private papers had to face so many challenges, such as Revenue, illiteracy, distribution and pressures from the government were some of the main difficulties.
There was tough competition among the newspapers as well. The market was too small to accommodate all of them. Eleven out of eighteen newspapers were kicked out of the market due to the competition and lack of finances.
The remaining seven newspapers including Setit survived the market competition and continued to be printed twice a week with a circulation of about 20,000 to 40,000.
We ran our work under harsh conditions particularly after
the two-year-long border conflict with
Of course the government officials were not happy with our coverage. Intimidation and telephone threats became part of our daily experience. Whenever Setit published critical content of the government, the government’s spokesperson and, other senior PFDJ officials and Army generals intimidated us by telephone.
Nevertheless, the government could not halt our momentum. We kept reminding the government to respect the rights of citizens and implement our constitution. We continued to publish stories about the arrest of two thousand university students including the student Union’s president for refusing to sign a compulsory work program which was organized by the government. We became the voice of the people by echoing their pain and real concerns.
The intimidation and harassment increased further when we published the open letter from the reformists known as the G-15 who criticized the President. All sorts of harassment intended to block the development of the free press began to grow. The forceful and unjustifiable conscription of journalists as well as their outright arrests and summons to the police station for interrogation became very common.
Most editors, including myself, were summoned once or twice a week to answer trivial questions. "What are you trying to say in this line, what do you mean? Where did you get this information? Why do you write this story while the country is at war?" (the country was not at war at that time) It was crazy; all their act was a symptom of a paranoid government.
At the beginning of September 2001, I wrote a strong editorial about how a fight between two elephants hurts the grass, where I pointed out that the fight between the President and the G-15 will escalate the suffering of our people.
That night, I arrived home around 10 p.m to find two security officers rushing from the shadows beside my house and they blocked my path, standing a mere three inches away from me. Their faces were half-covered with their hats and was hard to recognize.
"Hey, we just came to give you a final piece of advice," said a short man as he pushed a gun hidden in his jacket into my ribs. "If you write any further criticism of the government, that will be your final byline."
It was very scary as I could feel the tip of the gun against my ribs. I didn't dare to say anything until he removed the gun.
"Who are you?" I asked. They didn't answer directly. "Just concern yourself with the advice we are giving you."
That was the red signal. The government did not cross the line until the events of
2001.
The accusation laid against us amazed me. The government media blamed us for violating press law, collaborating with the enemy, evading national service and getting funds from foreigners. All these were baseless accusations, however, We didn't have any means to respond to such defamation. We had to write a letter demanding that the government give us an adequate explanation for the closure of our papers and for the accusations laid against us.
Between September 19 and 20, I invited the
editor-in-chiefs for each of the private newspapers to sign the letter. In the
end Amanuel Asrat, the
editor of Zemen, and I personally submitted the
letter to the Ministry of Information on
While waiting for their response, security officers came, just two days after, to pick us up from our homes. They put most of us in jail that morning, except Joshua, Simret Seyoum,
Dawit Habtemichael and me. It didn't take them much time to get Dawit and Joshua as well. They arrested them on September 26 and 27, respectively.
I was hiding in
It was a moonless evening and could not take the car across the border. So we left it in Ghirmaika (a small town located near the border) and set off on foot, guided by our smuggler.
He did his best to get the latest information for that evening. Unfortunately, he got the wrong information and the army didn't leave their patrolling area at the time they were supposed to—11:30 p.m. —and we were trapped.
We heard a disturbing voice, "Stop where you are!" Noisy guns and the shouting of the soldiers overwhelmed us. We could not discuss in which direction we should run. The soldiers were only a few steps away. I made a mad dash to the Sudanese border. I ran as fast as I could. Simret and the smuggler followed.
When the army realized we were not ready to give in, they started firing. We did not know if our lives would end right there on the flat land of the border.
It was terrifying, but I never thought of surrendering. Because I knew for sure, "If I'm captured, that will be the end of my life." So I convinced myself to keep on running, to prolong my life as long as possible.
It was
Still I was able to penetrate the thick bushes without any problems. I don't know how I jumped the big bushes and ran with such miraculous speed. I ran like an antelope for about two hours and didn't stop until I stumbled and fell. My body and my bag went in different directions. I wasted no time getting my bag. I just kept on going, leaving my belongings behind. I kept hearing gun fire from where I had last seen Simret and the smuggler. When the shooting stopped, I thought they were dead.
To my delight, two months later, I learned that Simret and the smuggler were still alive, unfortunately they were captured. I was the only one who had managed to escape to safety.
Unfortunately, in reprisal, the government had arrested my brother and my cousin.
Meanwhile, the rest of my colleagues were already in jail
without charge. Frustrated by the violations of their rights, they staged a
hunger strike in March 2002 and marked the turning point in their
lives—for the worse. The officials transferred them to Embatkala, then to Eiraeiro, the hotest place in
As a result of ill treatment, three journalists—Yosuf Mohammed Ali, Medhanie Haile and Said Abdelkadir died last year while in prison. This year Joshua Yohanes, the hero who didn't die from the enemy's bullet during the thirty-year armed struggle, was killed in prison. He was tortured terribly. His nails were ripped out and half of his body paralyzed.
Finally, they took his life. He died on
I remember September 23rd with two paradoxical feelings. It is a triumphant day for me in that I secured my life, but an unfortunate one for my colleagues. I don't know how to mark it. However I do know one thing. Their six years' of misery is mine too. I may live happily in flesh in a democratic country but my soul is always with them in their confinement and shares every pain they suffer. This will forever remain my driving force as I pursue my dream – freedom of expression for all people, and the Eritrean people in particular.
Thank you!