Mushtaq paid the price of freedom of expression

Imprisoned writer Mushtaq Ahmed has paid the price of freedom of expression in the golden jubilee year of Bangladesh’s independence. What political or legal explanation could there be if after five decades, a citizen in an independent country has to pay such a high price for individual freedom? Those who run the state arrested Mushtaq on grounds of tarnishing the state’s image. Six appeals had been made in court to grant Mushtaq bail. Perhaps bail was not granted on the question of the state’s image. Has that image been protected with the death in captivity of Mushtaq, incarcerated for expressing his opinion on Facebook? Or is that so-called image now submerged in shame and humiliation?

According to the media, Mushtaq Ahmed was a writer and an intrepid entrepreneur. After passing out from cadet college, he studied abroad too. He returned home and took up tea cultivation. An entrepreneur with a difference, he even began a crocodile farm. He wrote two books based on his experience in the tea garden and the crocodile farm. There were no political views in the book and there is no evidence that he was involved in any activity that posed as a threat. However, like millions of others, he would express his views on various topics on social media. There is nothing on his Facebook page that others have not said before. He and his friends had a group where they would exchange views. The charges brought against him include his expressing views on Facebook.

Other than Mushtaq, the others accused in this case filed at Ramna police station are cartoonist Ahmed Kabir Kishore, Rashtrochinta member Didarul Islam Bhuiyan, former director of Dhaka Stock Exchange Minhaj Mannan, Tasneem Khalil, Shayer Zulkarnain, Ashiq Imran, Philip Schumacher, Swapan Wahid, Shahed Alam and Asif Mohiuddin. There were another five or six unidentified accused persons. The charges against them were brought about under sections 21, 25(1), 31 and 35 of the Digital Security Act. They were accused of creating confusion, unrest and disorder among the people of the state by using various Facebook accounts to spread rumours known to be false, about the father of the nation, the Liberation War, the coronavirus pandemic and harming the image of the state/government.

In the case statement, they were not called creators of the rumours, but of spreading rumours known to be false on social media in order to create disorder in the state. The four sections of the Digital Security Act under which the case was filed, are non-bailable. So it would not be wrong to think that even if anyone did create a rumour, it was not the aim of the law enforcement agencies to nab the creators of the rumour. Similarly, it can be assumed that the non-bailable clauses were used in order to teach a lesson to those against whom the case was filed. The question then naturally arises, why such a serious step was taken against those who are not politically the government’s opponents. Various reliable sources have raised the question as to whether certain powerful quarters have used the state establishment in personal interests.

Many have expressed their apprehensions that they were tortured in custody. They say that cartoonist Kishore’s ear drum has been torn and he cannot walk normally due to leg injuries. His diabetes has shot up abnormally but he is not receiving due medical treatment. So there is concern about Kishore’s life too.

It does not seem that these mysteries will unravel anytime soon. But this case has proven once again the enormity of the Digital Security Act. The dangers of misusing the Digital Security Act, in comparison to other laws, are evident in the provisions for bail. In a similar case, the Delhi High Court granted bail to the 22-year-old young woman Disha who had been detained for her anti-government statements on a digital platform, in support of the farmers’ movement in India. The court said that everyone has a right to bail and this cannot be withdrawn other than in the case of exceptional crimes and risks. The court also said it is a citizen’s right to criticise the government and that exercising the right of expression was not a crime.

The clauses of the Digital Security Act under which the charges were brought about against Mushtaq and the others are contrary to the right of free thinking and expression. Section 25(1)(Kha) of the act speaks of tarnishing the state’s image. But what is the definition of state image? Has the state’s reputation been enhanced by keeping a citizen in jail without bail and by his death in custody without trial? The charges brought about accusations of tarnishing the image of the state/government. It is not difficult to understand that there are ulterior motives behind associating the state as one with the government.

There is nothing new to discuss about why we term the Digital Security Act as a repressive or black law. The statistics alone are enough. The UK-based Article 19’s annual report states that 198 cases were filed under this act in 2020 in Bangladesh and 457 were accused. In 41 cases, the accused were 75 professional journalists. In the previous year 2019, a total of 63 cases had been filed. And undoubtedly there are many more cases that were not reported in the media.

Before the law was drawn up in 2018, and even before when demands were made to cancel its previous form, the ICT Act, many appeals were made to the government to drop the repressive provisions of this law. In December 2018, the law minister told the Editors’ Council that after the election the law would be reviewed and necessary changes would be made. The review was never carried out, let along the changes. Recently the prime minister’s advisor Gowher Rizvi, in a talk show of German media platform Deutsche Welle, admitted that there remained weaknesses in the Digital Security Act. But he didn’t say if it would be amended.

Many are blaming the state for Mushtaq’s death. This includes the former chairman of the National Human Rights Commission. He himself has been criticised for the failure of that national institution. This evaluation is like the manner in which the state and the government have been seen as one in the police’s charges. Even in many authoritarian countries, institutions like the human rights commission have tried to gain the people’s trust and have been praised. Unfortunately, the manner in which we have made the human rights commission an affiliated body of the government, they too cannot evade the responsibility of custodial death.

*This column appeared in the print and online edition of Prothom Alo and has been rewritten for the English edition by Ayesha Kabir