U.S. Sends Wrong Message to the World

Original article can be found here.

Restrictive regimes around the world came out ahead when the U.S. Supreme Court announced this week that it would not hear an appeal by two journalists in a case involving the leak of a CIA officer’s name. The reporters, Matthew Cooper of Time magazine and Judith Miller of The New York Times, face up to 18 months in jail for not revealing their confidential sources.

President George W. Bush has stressed the need for greater press freedom in Russia, the Middle East and Asia, but the message from U.S. prosecutors and courts is being heard more clearly in repressive corners of the world. Many of the world’s despots have been using the case to their advantage.

Late last year, the Committee to Protect Journalists protested Cameroon’s imprisonment of Eric Wirkwa Tayu, publisher of a small private newspaper, Nso Voice, on charges that he defamed a local mayor. The government justified the detention in part by saying: “You are aware courts have decided in a number of countries that protection of free speech does not grant journalists, for instance, the privilege to refuse to divulge names of sources in all circumstances.”

Similarly, President Hugo Chávez of Venezuela recently complained when international observers criticized his country’s new media law, which severely restricts broadcast news coverage. They should complain instead, Chávez said, about “U.S. journalists that are being prosecuted by the government in Washington for not revealing their sources.”

The U.S. case has followed a winding path. The syndicated columnist Robert Novak, citing two unnamed “senior administration officials,” first revealed CIA officer Valerie Plame’s identity in July 2003. Cooper wrote about the disclosure later; Miller conducted interviews but never wrote a story. A special prosecutor was appointed to determine whether government officials committed a crime by willfully disclosing the agent’s identity. No government official has been charged after two years of investigation, most of which has focused on compelling reporters to identify confidential sources. By refusing to hear the journalists’ appeal, the Supreme Court let stand a lower court’s contempt ruling against Miller and Cooper.

In repressive countries, journalists are routinely compelled to reveal their sources. Last week alone, CPJ found that three governments on three continents had harassed or jailed journalists while pressuring them to reveal sources.

In Nepal, the police demanded that Kishor Karki, editor of the daily Blast Time, reveal his sources for a report on clashes between the government and Maoist rebels. In a separate incident, two military officers insisted that the editor of Jana Aastha, Kishor Shrestha, and other journalists from the weekly reveal sources for an article about an army general. These journalists refused to reveal their sources, but officers promised they’d be back. In Nepal that threat is not empty.

In Serbia and Montenegro, two police officers visited the independent daily Danas, demanding that the editor, Grujica Spasovic, and director, Radivoj Cveticanin, reveal their sources for a report identifying where indicted war criminal Ratko Maldic may be hiding.

And in Burundi, authorities released journalist Etienne Ndikuriyo after jailing him for more than a week for a story questioning President Domitien Ndayizeye’s health. He said that prison interrogators demanded that he reveal his sources, but that he refused. Ndikuriyo faces criminal charges of “violating the honor” of the president.

The American case is troubling because it follows several others in which U.S. prosecutors and judges demanded that journalists disclose sources. A television reporter served four months of home confinement for refusing to reveal a source; prosecutors are seeking records from two New York Times reporters; several other reporters face contempt charges in a lawsuit involving a former U.S. government scientist.

Because the United States has set a high standard for press freedom, any perceived weakening in U.S. protections provides cover for authoritarian regimes to justify crackdowns. CPJ documented a spike in the number of journalists imprisoned worldwide in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 attacks, when restrictive governments appropriated the Bush’s war rhetoric to clamp down on dissent.

They may have a similar opportunity today.

(Frank Smyth is the Washington representative and journalist security coordinator for the Committee to Protect Journalists.)

Il ricordo di un amico perso nel terrore di Saddam

Original story found here.

Il rovesciamento del regime di Saddam Hussein in Iraq ha liberato un torrente di ricordi repressi, racconti di torture, sparizioni ed esecuzioni sbrigative. Iracheni in ricerca di parenti e amici dispersi da molto tempo hanno invaso diverse prigioni per poi scoprire cimiteri clandestini e dozzine di tombe comuni.

Alcune famiglie sono riuscite a identificare e disseppellire il corpo di una persona amata rubata via da loro molti anni prima. Ma la maggior parte dei morti rimane inidentificabile, incluso il mio amico fotografo Gad Gross.

Gross è stato ucciso nelle vicinanze di Kirkuk nel 1991 mentre seguiva l’insurrezione kurda, incoraggiata dall’amministrazione Bush, durante e dopo la guerra del Golfo. Ora che il governo di Saddam non controlla più il paese, molti iracheni avranno probabilmente la possibilità di recuperare i resti delle persone che sono scomparse da tanti anni. Con “ottimismo” ora si comincia a sperare che anche i resti di Gad saranno ritrovati e verranno identificati.

Gross, lo vidi l’ultima volta il 28 marzo 1991, ai confini del Kirkuk.

Eravamo in quattro, tre giovani giornalisti occidentali e un giovane guerrigliero kurdo, Bakhtiar Abdel Rahman, la nostra guida. Kirkuk è caduta sotto l’attacco delle forze di Saddam in sette ore. Con un kalashnikov sulle spalle e una pistola appesa nella cinta, Bakhtiar ha guidato Gad, che portava con sé alcune macchine fotografiche, verso alcune case nella vicinanza sotto un pesante bombardamento, mentre io ed un fotografo francese, Alain Buu, siamo saltati dentro una fossa.

Soldati iracheni si accamparono durante tutta la notte intorno a noi. Le loro mitragliatrici spararono su un campo che durante il giorno precedente era occupato da centinaia di kurdi che lasciavano la città, la maggior parte donne, portando con sé i bambini. Poco dopo l’alba, io e Alain abbiamo avvertito un trambusto proveniente dalle case in vicinanza, sembrava che i soldati iracheni stessero catturando delle persone. Dopo alcuni minuti, abbiamo sentito il colpo di un fucile, seguito da un lungo e stordente urlo, placato da un ulteriore colpo.

Aguzzando lo sguardo oltre la fossa, io ed Alain abbiamo osservano alcuni soldati iracheni lasciare la scena, uno dei soldati teneva sulle sue spalle la borsa blu di una delle macchine fotografiche di Gad. Abbiamo continuato a nasconderci fino a quando, un’ora dopo, un soldato ha avvistato Alain, che alzandosi si arrese. Gli iracheni sembravano pronti a sparaci, fino a quando un ufficiale, appena arrivato sulla scena, non è intervenuto.

L’ufficiale vestendo la divisa del partito in commando, Ba’ath, ordinò ai soldati di accompagnarci verso un altro ufficiale iracheno, un capitano delle Forze Speciali, che ci ha ricevuti con parole infuriate: “Il vostro amico si è suicidato. Sapete perché? Perché aveva una pistola.” Io non so se Bakhtiar avesse dato la sua pistola a Gad, quello che so è che accanto al capitano c’era la borsa della macchina fotografica di Gad. Appeso ad esso c’era il suo tesserino stampa, macchiato di sangue.

Le forze irachene hanno rilasciato me ed Alain dopo 18 giorni. Ma i resti di Bakhtiar e di Gad non sono mai stati ritrovati. Gad, come me, era figlio unico. Sua madre, Edith Gross, è una pittrice di etnia germanica nata in Romania, immigrata poi nella Germania occidentale quando suo figlio era ancora adolescente.

Non erano stati benvenuti da alcuni vicini tedeschi, i quali li denigravano per le radici straniere. Gad decise di iscriversi come studente di scambio in una scuola superiore americana e ottenne più tardi una borsa di studio integrale per studiare ad Harvard.

Ritornò in Europa dopo la laurea, e le sue foto dei bambini rumeni che morivano di AIDS arrivarono in prima pagina sul Newsweek. Subito dopo averlo conosciuto, vinse il premio Missouri Award of Excellence per una sua foto di due soldati rumeni seduti su una statua caduta di Lenin.

A quel punto Gad stava organizzando i suoi prossimi passi. Aveva presentato domanda per iscriversi al corso di giurisprudenza dell’università di Yale mentre era in Giordania, aveva intenzione di studiare la protezione dei diritti umani. Ma non è sopravissuto per sapere che era stato accettato nella scuola.

La Germania non riconoscerà la morte di Gad senza il suo corpo, mantenendo Edith senza alcun beneficio. Lei vorrebbe seppellire i suoi resti vicino alla sua casa di Colonia. Con tante tombe comuni in Iraq, non sarà facile ritrovare i resti di Gad.

© 2003 International Herald Tribune 2003

Remembering a Friend Lost to Saddam’s Terror

The overthrow of Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq has unleashed a torrent of repressed memories — tales of torture, disappearance, and summary executions. Iraqis searching for long-lost relatives and friends broke into prisons only to discover clandestine cemeteries and dozens of mass graves.

Some families did find solace, identifying and burying the body of a loved one taken from them years ago. But most of the dead remain unidentified, including my friend Gad Gross. He was killed near Kirkuk in 1991 while covering the Shi’ite and Kurdish uprisings that were encouraged by the last Bush administration during and after the Gulf War.

Now that the hostilities have finally abated in Iraq, many Iraqis will hopefully have the opportunity to recover the remains of those who have been missing for so long. Hopefully, too, the remains of Gad will be found and identified. I last saw him on the afternoon of March 28, 1991, on the northern edge of Kirkuk.

There were four of us, three young Western journalists and one equally young Kurdish armed guerrilla, Bakhtiar Abdel Rahman, our guide. Kirkuk fell to Saddam’s forces in seven hours. With a Kalashnikov over one shoulder and a pistol tucked into his belt, Bakhtiar led Gad, carrying several cameras, toward some nearby houses under heavy fire, while a French photographer, Alain Buu, and I dove, one after the other, into a nearby ditch.

All night, Iraqi soldiers camped around us. Their machine gunners shot into fields that the day before had been filled with hundreds of Kurds fleeing the city, mostly women either carrying or leading children. Not long after dawn, Alain and I heard a commotion coming from the nearby houses — it sounded as though Iraqi soldiers were capturing people. Within minutes, we heard the burst of an automatic rifle, followed by one long, loud scream, before another burst cut it short.

Peering over the edge of our ditch, Alain and I saw a group of Iraqi soldiers walking away from the scene, one soldier holding Gad’s blue camera bag over his shoulder. We continued to hide until about an hour later, when a soldier saw Alain, who jumped up and surrendered. The Iraqis seemed ready to shoot us, too, until an officer, evidently newly arrived at the scene, intervened.

Wearing the uniform of Iraq’s ruling Ba’ath party, he ordered the soldiers to save us for interrogation. They led us to another Iraqi officer, an army Special Forces captain, who greeted us with angry words: “Your friend, he kill himself. You know why? He had a gun.” I do not know whether Bakhtiar might have given Gad his revolver. But nearby, Alain and I saw Gad’s camera bag. Hanging from it were his laminated press cards, stained with blood.

Iraqi authorities released Alain and me 18 days later. But neither Gad nor Bakhtiar’s remains have been recovered. Gad, like me, was an only child. His mother, Edith Gross, is an ethnic German painter born in Romania who later immigrated to West Germany with her son when he was a young teen.

But they were not welcomed by some German neighbors who disparaged them for their foreign roots. Gad decided to apply to become an American high school exchange student and later won a full scholarship to Harvard.

He returned to Eastern Europe after graduating, and his photographs of Romanian babies dying of AIDS made the cover of Newsweek. Right after I met him, he won the Missouri Award of Excellence for his picture of two Romanian soldiers sitting on a toppled statue of Lenin.

By then, Gad was planning his next step. He applied to Yale law school while he was in Jordan, intending to study the protection of human rights. But he did not live to learn that he had been accepted.

Germany will not recognize Gad’s death without his corpse, keeping Edith without benefits. She wants to bury his remains near her home in Cologne. With so many graves across Iraq, finding Gad’s remains will not be easy.

The writer is the Washington representative of the Committee to Protect Journalists.