Sitting back in Somerville after a whirlwind trip to Norway for the Oslo Freedom Forum, I feel like I need to take pause and reflect on what I’ve experienced. Its difficult because I am exhausted and the weather is so perfectly warm here that my brain wants to melt. The one thing that does stick out when I think about the forum is the essential power of narrative in challenging power.

Challenging power means shifting the dominant narrative – the narrative of those in power and control. This does not simply mean evil dictators out to rule the world (although in many cases this is true) but can mean the dominant mindset or preconceived notions that are accepted.

When the status quo is challenged, it means that there is another story at play – a different one of greater possibility. At the Oslo Freedom Forum, the narrative that was constantly asserted was that of human strength, rights and a better world for all – not just some.

For example, Jenan Moussa did not only challenge power in Syria but challenged the Western conception of rights and what it means in other countries. She argued for the possibility that rights, specifically women’s rights, might look different in other contexts and cultures and the Western point of view should not be imposed on others – challenging power.

Ali Ferzat, the Syrian cartoonist, challenged and continues to challenge the on going discourse of Syria. By using humor, Ferzat is able to portray the authority in power as something to be unafraid of and in doing so, he is able to instill courage in the public, while also publically discrediting the regime to the international community. Ferzat challenges not just the regime, but its story and what it means.

Srdja Popovic used data to show how the non-violent revolutions are possible and must be considered a plausible, effective solution in empowering people to stand for their own human rights. He is empowering people all over the world to take hold of their own story and to fight for it, peacefully, instead of leaving it up to high politics.

Lee Ann De Reus explicitly stated that the narrative of the Congo must be changed because currently those who are survivors of gender-based violence should not be pigeon-holed to be the product of solely the singular act of violence, but of an entire system that is exploitative of them and their perpetuators. By establishing and perpetuating this simplistic narrative is both untrue and disrespectful for those who are experiencing systematic, structural violence. By shifting the narrative, we can give dignity to the survivors while being able to think of their situations holistically to offer better and more concrete solutions.

Hannah Song’s talk was all about shifting the narrative of North Korea to not that of nuclear weapons and diplomatic risks, but of the people. She and her organization, Liberty in North Korea, challenges this notion by bringing attention to the people under the North Korean regime and the possibility that change can come from within. That is definitely not a narrative that most people think of when North Korea comes to mind.

The Oslo Freedom Forum and all its participants and attendees are calling for a better future by saying what is current is not the only option that is possible. Challenging power is about challenging narrative – it means there is a different way of looking at the system and that there is possibility for a different present and future. Challenging narrative is about hope.

Change, especially progress, is never easy – if it were, we would have long reached the utopia that Thomas More wrote about 500 years ago. As if it weren’t hard enough, change and progress face an even steeper slope when dictators and autocracies imprison, rape, injure, chase, detain, exile, or kill people who criticize their policies. How do you make progress in such an oppressive climate? Even if progress can be made, can it ever be sustained? Or will it always be fleeting?

If I’ve learned one thing this past week from attending the Oslo Freedom Forum, it’s that there’s no one answer to any of these questions, and there’s no cookie-cutter solution to remedying injustice. What may work in Singapore, where Chee Soon Juan notes is plagued with extreme income inequality, won’t work in Zimbabwe, where artists like Owen Maseko are imprisoned for producing art that depicts the Gukurahundi massacre. These are completely different types of injustices, yes, but they are both types of repression, perpetrated by those in power against those who are defenseless. So what are we to do?

It wouldn’t be a human rights conference without the brutal details or haunting imagery of survivors’ tales, but it also wouldn’t be a human rights conference without the reminder that there are ways to prevail. Even though there’s no cookie-cutter solution there are certainly common goals of optimism and sustainability that transcended each activist’s hopes for the future. Hannah Song spoke about making grassroots efforts to crack the North Korean regime, for instance, while Jenan Moussa spoke about how that “change has to come from the inside” in order to increase women’s visibility in the Middle East.

Lobsang Sangay, Prime Minister of the Tibetan government in exile, perhaps spoke best about this need for sustainable change. The Central Tibetan Administration, he said, demonstrates a model form of true democracy, where Tibetans all over the world, whether in cosmopolitan Oslo or in the mountains of Bhutan, are able to practice their right to elect their representatives in government. This democracy in exile serves as a “litmus test for the international community,” one that can measure how genuine or legitimate a democracy truly is.

Most strikingly, he reminded us that the key to any lasting change, to any sustainable preservation of human rights, is nonviolence and democracy. Change is only so good as it is able to carry through generations, and though it may seem insurmountable to persevere through challenging times of self-immolations and denial of the freedom of religion, a commitment to human rights and justice will help states like Tibet prevail. I may have entered the Oslo Freedom Forum a skeptic about some things, but I certainly left an optimist. Taking to heart the Prime Minister’s eloquent and quiet confidence, I have no doubt that “with a long-term investment in freedom, Tibet will succeed.”

The following post is written by Saman Nargund. Saman is a junior from Tufts University majoring in International Relations. She is a 2013 Oslo Scholar and will be working with Maryam Nayeb Yazdi.

The Oslo Freedom Forum is a remarkable opportunity for countless reasons: it represents unity amongst various human rights movements around the world, it is a networking opportunity, and it allows for individuals to share information and experiences. Though my experience at the Forum encompassed all of these benefits, I was always under the impression that social change was the result of a necessary and daunting sense of desperation. I pictured oppression in its most grotesque form: after all, the speakers exposed us to images and accounts of torture and oppression that seemed ridiculously inhumane to me. However, on interacting with the speakers at the Forum, I realized that activism is not a defense mechanism—it is a choice.

Lee Ann de Reus is the co-founder and assistant executive director of the Panzi Foundation USA, an organization that seeks to raise awareness regarding sexual violence the in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. As a rising senior in college, I found myself asking Lee Ann how she determined that she was emotionally capable of being repeatedly exposed to stories of sexual assault. Lee Ann frankly replied that after she returned back to the USA after her first mission, she was “glued to her couch” because she was both mentally and physically overwhelmed by her work. Working with human rights means working with human emotions, and connecting with other individuals on a personal level. The media has socialized us to think of activism as large scale revolutions with protests and casualties. In reality, activism is the act of simultaneously accepting that humans can act with indifferent, good, or evil actions.

Once this commitment is broken, others are left disappointed. De Reus stated that eventually, she realized that she was “emotionally capable” of committing herself to her work not because there was a revolution occurring outside her window, but because the plight of women was immediate to her. In reality, activism is the act of simultaneously accepting that humans can act with good, instead of indifferent or evil actions. The trick is to realize that human rights are not a question of emotional capability—instead, the question is one of emotional obligation.

The Arab Spring, beginning in the end of 2010, was unprecedented in many ways. The use of art and social media to spread the wave of protest across the region was of especial interest to me, as they are a part of my every day life and exposed me to the issues and the sentiment of uprising before the actual ‘start’ of the Arab Spring. I had heard Arabic songs countering the dictatorial regimes in the Middle East weeks before the uprisings had gained momentum. Notably, I had listened to a song by Tunisian Hamada Ben Amar, stage name El General, titled Rais Lebled (Mr. President), which had been released in November of 2010. Its lyrics targeted the president at the time, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, uncovering the unemployment, hunger, and government corruption plaguing Tunisia. It has been acknowledged that musical artists such as El General played a prominent role in raising awareness of the situation in the Middle East and in inspire the citizens to non-violently fight against their government with words.

Ali Ferzat, a Syrian political cartoonist, has been taking a similar approach against the Bashar Assad regime following the Arab Spring. Though he has been drawing cartoons for over thirty years, his cartoons never were meant to portray a specific individual or situation. This enabled him to still promote the necessity of freedom of expression under the two Al-Assad regimes, that of Hafez and Bashar’s rule, without facing serious consequences from the government. During the onset of the Arab Spring, Ferzat began to directly mock and criticize the Assad regime. As a result, he was attacked brutally by masked men, where among other things, his hands were broken so that he could not longer draw about Al-Assad and his regime.

Ali Ferzat responded to this attack with humor and courage that resonates not only in his cartoons, but the interactions I had with him at the forum. Following his attacks, he released a cartoon, included above which reads, “it hurts when I laugh, but when I think that Assad is afraid of a pencil, I can’t help it!” Indeed, the attacks on Ferzat highlighted the powers of words to scare even the most feared people. When I spoke with Ferzat his courage was incredibly admirable. He never spoke of the attacks beyond his grateful surprise that it did receive international coverage. Recognition of his work on such a large-scale, he indicated, is what he hoped would come of his persistent satire of dictatorships over the past years. By using humor to minimize Assad’s legitimacy, he has empowered Syrians by showing them that these ‘powerful’ dictatorial regimes deeply fear the true power of the people.

Though, what I especially was inspired by was Ali Ferzat’s courageous outlook towards the future. After the hardships his family, forced to relocate across the region, his fellow Syrians, the beautiful ancient land, and he himself have faced, he continues to draw and continues to believe that a bright day for Syria, free of oppression, will come. His optimism was obvious from the onset of my conversations with him; he is still so filled with life and warmth that it is clear that he will not be broken. As I was concluding my conversation with Ali Ferzat, he asked that I let him know when I plan on visiting Syria. He sensed my confusion with his statement, and then added, “maybe not today, but tomorrow.”

Ali Ferzat was a speaker at the 2013 Oslo Freedom Forum and was the recipient of the Václav Havel Prize for Creative Dissent.

The time has come to create a new team of human rights activists and students for this life changing opportunity!

The Forum, now in its fourth year, provides students with invaluable networking and learning opportunities, and the chance to plan their summer internships with their host speakers. In 2011, the Oslo Scholars Program organized internships with Dr. Izzeldin Abuelaish, Justine Hardy, and Vincent Manoharan, each of whom hosted Oslo Scholars from Tufts University for the summer, engaging the Scholars in their inspiring work in the defense and promotion of human rights across the world. In 2012, students worked with Mauricio Rodas, Justine Hardy, Asma Jahangir and Abebe Gellaw.

We are now seeking applicants from Tufts University!

If you are a graduating senior this year, you are STILL ELIGIBLE to apply. You are only eligible to attend the Forum if you apply for an internship with a 2013 speaker (as highlighted next to each speaker).

For further questions, please email us at:  scholars@oslofreedomforum.org

GIM:
Monday March 4th, Cabot 206, Fletcher School, Tufts University – 8PM

You can go to our website to read more about the program and the scholars’ experiences: http://osloscholars.com/

The internships for this year:

1. Justine Hardy 

- Journalist: BBC, The Times, The Financial Times, Vanity Fair,  Author: In the Valley of Mist

-  Founder: Kashmir Welfare Trust

- President: Development Research and Action Group

- Mental health in conflict zones

- Location: Srinagar, Kashmir

- Language: Hindi/Urdu/Kashmiri

2. Lobsang Sangay (2013)

- Elected Prime Minister of the Central Tibetan Administration’s Government-in-exile

- Expert in Tibetan law and International Human Rights

- Currently a senior fellow at the East Asian Legal Studies Program at Harvard Law School

- Named one of the 24 Young Leaders of America by the Asia Society

- Location: Cambridge, Massachusetts

- Language: English/Tibetan/Mandarin

3. Rafael Marques de Morais (2013)

- Founder: makaangola.org

- Journalist and activist reporting on conflict diamonds and government corruption in Angola

- Author of “The Lipstick of Dictatorship”

- Location: Angola

- Language: English/Portuguese

4. Maryam Nayeb Yazdi (2013)

- Editor-in-Chief: Perisan2English.com

- Dedicated to delivering freedom and democracy to Iran

-Spokesperson for Iran Human Rights, focused on ending death penalty in Iran

- Current Location: Toronto, Canada

- Language: English/Farsi

5. Hannah Song (2013)

- CEO of Liberty in North Korea (LINK)

- Current Location: Seoul, South Korea

- Language: Korean

The following article is written by Yiran Du and Charmaine Poh of Love 146, William Luk and Christina Luo of Amnesty International and Vasundhara Jolly of the Oslo Scholars Program.

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How do you picture genocide? Is it the black and white photo of men sitting in bunks at Buchenwald, or is it the portrait of a young Sudanese boy orphaned by the war in Darfur? Can you encapsulate the deaths and suffering of millions of victims in one frame? How about ten?

Genocide is not easily understandable given its scope and breadth, especially not to the average U.S. college student. Defined in international law as “an act committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group,” genocide has become a grave reality in numerous regions around the world, disrupting the lives of millions of individuals, and their families and communities. Still, though, the stories of those affected by genocide have too often been neglected, belittling its reality and diminishing any hope for change.

This Saturday, Tufts Amnesty International, Love 146, and the Oslo Scholars Program are bringing One Million Bones to Tufts in an effort to conceptualize just how devastating genocide can be. The One Million Bones Project is a large-scale social arts practice in which schools and individuals across the country use education and hands-on art-making to raise awareness of the many genocides and atrocities in the past and present. This project strives to collect one million artwork bones and display them in a collaborative installation on the National Mall in Washington D.C. next June. The sight of a million white bones across one of the most iconic spaces in America is bound to be inspirational and tear-jerking. Each bone will stand as a testament to the human cost of genocide; each bone will, in essence, ossify the remembrance of lives lost. The event on Saturday marks the beginning of a month-long bone-making marathon on campus.

What makes the One Million Bones Project stand out from other awareness-raising campaigns is its foundation in art. Students can use newspaper, clay and other materials to make bones, symbolically taking part in the nation-wide vigil.

Art can be used as a powerful tool to compel people who would otherwise not be interested in the issues of genocide to take part in the project. It serves as a means of accessibility, allowing viewers from all walks of life to participate without feeling intimidated or alienated. The act of physically creating as well as personally witnessing an art installation like this initiates the viewer into the issue, and can make a powerful impact on them.

In our media-saturated world, where disengagement can be as simple as clicking to close a Youtube window or flipping the page of a newspaper, an art installation like the One Million Bones Project can serve as a reminder of the everyday reality of genocide.

In addition to educating participants about the horrors of genocide, the Project has partnered with the organization Students Rebuild, a collaboration that challenges young people to think and act critically about global issues, such that each bone made will generate a $1 donation, up to $500,000, from the Bezos Family Foundation to CARE for their work on the ground in Somalia and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

One million bones means one million efforts to build this powerful image and raise awareness about the atrocities of genocide. Using art to educate and touch the hearts of others can help us start the journey towards unearthing, understanding, and ultimately overcoming the horrific pain caused by mass atrocities around the world.

This past summer has undoubtedly been a memorable one for Abebe Gellaw, the Ethiopian Satellite Television (ESAT) and Ethiopia at large, and definitely for me as well. After meeting Mr. Gellaw at the Oslo Freedom Forum in May as one of the Oslo Scholars, I became much more knowledgeable about the dire situation in Ethiopia. In many respects, the media censorship in Ethiopia is not only comparable but may even be worse than that of China, where I frequently travel to. This came as a surprise to me, as Western media has always portrayed Prime Minister Meles, the dictator of the African country, as an ally. Through Abebe and this experience, my perception of not only Ethiopia, but also the politics of the press has been changed dramatically.

After the Conference, I immediately began working with Abebe. Although I was based in Hong Kong while ESAT is in Washington D.C., I worked telecommunicatively. My major task was to research on the topic of radio signal jamming, which is frequently used by Ethiopian authorities against foreign press. It has been one of the major challenges to ESAT, which tries to broadcast information to Ethiopians back home. Through my research, I learned about the many types of radio jamming, as well as counter jamming technologies. In fact, much of the existing technology in Ethiopia was acquired from China, which has invested heavily in many African countries in past decades, with the help of the Chinese Central Authorities. While no single counter technology is foolproof, there are some methods of radio transmission that are more difficult to penetrate into. Unfortunately, there are costs and obstacles to implementing these methods.

I had a heartfelt moment when I heard that Abebe stood up in the middle of an event attended by Prime Minister Meles in Washington D.C. and shouted “Meles Zenawi is a dictator!” At that instance, Meles was rendered speechless. In the land of the free, Abebe has silenced the dictator that had silenced, and exiled him. I could not begin to imagine how he must have felt– thousands of emotions mixed together in an overall ecstasy – the thrill of free speech. This fundamental right that we take for granted, was exemplified by Abebe in that moment.

Meles died towards the end of the summer. His death was not reported until days after his actual death, which serves to show the suppression and manipulation of information by the Government in Ethiopia. This was good news to Ethiopians whose rights have been restricted or taken away because of his regime. There is no doubt that this is a huge turning point in history. The question lies in whether it will turn for the better, or the worse. After all, a dictator’s death could very well be the beginning of another.

Ethiopia will have many obstacles ahead, from extreme poverty and illiteracy to lacking infrastructure. But the greatest one is finding a leader who will find a solution to the aforementioned problems, instead of using them as a means to keep his power in place. There are now great expectations for Prime Minister Hailemariam, basically automatically elected as the Ethiopian People’s Revultionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) holds the majority in the Parliament. In the meantime, the Ethiopia Satellite Television and Abebe Gellaw have and will continue to do its best to deliver the truth to Ethiopians back home and around the world.

Kashmir, tucked into the Himalayas at the northern tip of India, has changed remarkably. This seems to be the broad consensus in Srinagar, the state’s summer capital. Violent incidents such as shootings and riots are less frequent in this pristine Himalayan neighborhood. The city is expecting the largest tourist season in recent years. People who fled the painful militancy that has plagued the region for more than 20 years are finally returning to their homes. “Ten years ago you would walk down the street and see only long, depressed faces but people actually seem happy now” and “I have hope for my business, I am not afraid of violence shutting down my shops anymore” are statements you now hear from Kashmiris.

Despite all this positivity, a thick air of tension has settled into the picturesque Kashmir Valley. Kashmir harbors a pervasive fear that something can still happen. For many of the people I have spoken with, an episode of “stone pelting”, a “firing” or a resurgence of the militancy are all very real possibilities. As a newcomer to “paradise on earth“, I am not immune to this feeling of anxious expectancy. No matter how much of Kashmir’s “welcome drink”, the warming kahwa tea, I consume, I simply can’t rinse away the deeply rooted tension that follows me throughout Srinagar. Kashmir has become one of those places that can give the bravest person phobias of anything from the dark to policemen. Quite paradoxically, there is so much in beautiful Kashmir that tells you to be afraid.

It starts before you even leave for Kashmir. Both in the US and in New Delhi, I was bombarded by sentiments of apprehension from friends and family members. “Don’t tell anyone you’re a foreigner” and “Don’t go anywhere alone” were two of the most common tips. Although some of the perceptions of Kashmir held by average Indians are media inflated, they do have validity. For the past several years, Kashmir was probably one of the most unsafe places in the world. And it might still be. The current crime rate in Kashmir is astronomical and stories of infamous kidnappings of foreigners by militants are still fresh in peoples’ minds. The US State Department has this warning on it’s website:

The Department of State strongly recommends that you avoid travel to the state of Jammu & Kashmir (with the exception of visits to the eastern Ladakh region and its capital, Leh) because of the potential for terrorist incidents, as well as violent public unrest.

Many other governments also hold similar warnings for their tourists. Even the Australian government website has a “Do Not Travel” warning.

Taste the Unease

The tension does not go anywhere when you arrive. Immediately after I step out of my walled-in guesthouse, I face thick barbed wire clutching the 10-foot wall hiding an abandoned house taken over by a battalion of Indian security forces. Sometimes I glance through the grenade-proof netting into the small bunker next to the gate and make awkward eye contact with the tense looking guard, alone, save for his slender assault rifle.

Soldiers with machine guns or rifles are a common sight in Kashmir. Within the city of Srinagar they are usually CRPF, but once you leave the city you’ll periodically see a group, of Indian Army jawans stationed alongside the road. Each gun is a sharp reminder that militants still pose a potential threat. And these reminders are everywhere. Seeing all of these guns and soldiers does something to you. Subtly, you are put on edge and you can taste the unease almost everywhere you go. Calls to protest during “Martyr’s Week” and rumors of militants stirring in rural areas surely don’t help.

New Sentiments for Outsiders, But Everyday Life for Kashmiris

As a newcomer to Kashmir, I find the subtle sense of pending danger a foreign, unfamiliar feeling. Many Kashmiris, on the other hand, have learned to be comfortable in this general atmosphere of tension. Seeing camouflage and sandbags on street corners has become an accepted part of their day to day life. It is almost as though they are unaffected and unmoved. “This is exactly what worries me,” says a psychologist I recently spoke with about the issue.

The transition from a conflict to a post conflict state has transformed the Kashmiri psyche. The rates of mood and anxiety disorders have followed the drastic uptick in violence in the 90′s. The generation born during Kashmir’s violent era has experienced is characterized by ADHD and general aggression. These are the conclusions that are echoed from senior psychologists to shopkeepers and auto-rickshaw drivers.

The fighting may be over, but who will do the healing?

 The following post is written by Talitha Calder. Talitha studies Political Science and International Development at McGill University in Montreal. She is one of McGill’s first Oslo Scholars and is interning with West Papuan tribal leader Benny Wenda this summer.

My first glance of Benny Wenda was at a press conference at the Oslo Freedom Forum. Among the dizzying array of politicians, diplomats, and journalists, stood a small man with a colourful headdress and a wooden cane.  Benny is a tribal leader from West Papua. The headdress he proudly dons is a powerful symbol of the influence Benny wields in West Papuan society and he walks with a wooden cane, because as a young man Benny and his family were attacked by Indonesian authorities which left him with a badly injured and untreated leg.

Indonesia has illegally occupied West Papua since 1969. In 1969, an unmonitored vote with hand-picked West Papuans voted in favour of integration into Indonesia. This “Act of Free Choice” is disputed in international legal circles and remains unrecognized by West Papua. Since the Act of Free Choice, thousands of West Papuans have been killed or injured, and political activity has been suppressed, with Papuans who raise West Papua’s morning star flag subject to fifteen years of imprisonment. The atrocious human rights violations in Indonesia have not been brought to the forefront of a global human rights agenda, because foreign journalists and humanitarian organizations are banned entry.

It has been four weeks since I began my internship with Benny in London, U.K. and I am continuously touched by his compassionate spirit. On the first day of my internship, I followed Benny to a presentation he gave at Oxford University to a room full of undergraduate students. At the beginning of every presentation, Benny starts with a song he wrote while he was unlawfully imprisoned by Indonesian authorities. Before Benny begins signing he turns to me and laughs as he jokingly compares his escape to an episode of the American television show “Prison Break”. Benny’s own “prison break” involved him squeezing himself into the prison’s narrow ventilation system with his sweat helping him to slide through the tubing. After his miraculous escape, Benny received help from other West Papuan independence activists who safely smuggled him across Papua New Guinea’s borders. Benny later contacted a European NGO group and flew on his first airplane to seek refuge in the UK.  His hands shook nervously, as he showed the agents at the UK border his passport who then took him in for questioning. He was eventually released and granted political asylum in the UK. Benny told me that the first English word he learnt was “asylum”, after hearing another political refugee mutter that same word.

Benny and his wife Maria have since raised their family in Norfolk and Oxford. They educate their children on the beautiful culture and language of West Papua and also the violent politics that have led to their refuge. They tell their children that they are not here in the UK to seek out a better life than what they had in West Papua, but that they are “here on a mission”.  Since Benny’s arrival in the UK he has spoken at some of the best universities in the world and has traveled far distances, including, visiting the government in Senegal and launching the International Lawyers for West Papua in Guyana. His message that West Papua was denied a right to self-determination has drawn the support of nearly 100 lawyers and parliamentarians from every corner of the globe. He has achieved this over a short span of ten years.

As the event comes to a close, Benny and I pack up the numerous advocacy materials we have brought with us to the event. It’s a cold, rainy night, the usual in the United Kingdom, and as we walk along the winding, cobblestone paths and through the historic buildings of Oxford, I turn to Benny and ask if he would have ever imagined his life to have turned out this way. He lets out his trademark jovial laugh.

Benny’s optimism has not been stifled. He is confident that West Papuans will soon be able to enjoy a freedom that most of us have — independence. Benny’s remarkable escape from prison, and the growing support rallied around West Papua across our globe is a testament to his inner strength and determination.  He lives out the Chinese proverb “it is better to light a candle than  to curse the darkness” everyday of his life, for he has shone a light on West Papua, an area of the world that could have gone unrecognized, had it not been for courageous people like him.

Mr. Abebe Gellaw is a terrorist; at least, according to the totalitarian regime of Ethiopia, ruled by Prime Minister Meles Zenawi. According to others, however, he is an inspiration.

At the 2012 Food Security G8 Summit in Washington D.C. on May 18, 2012, Abebe Gellaw stood up in the audience while Dictator Meles was giving a speech about African agricultural transformation, and demanded freedom.

“Meles Zenawi is a dictator! Meles Zenawi is a dictator! Free Eskinder Nega! Free Political Prisoners! You are a dictator. You are committing crimes against humanity. Food is nothing without freedom! Meles has committed crimes against humanity! We Need Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!” – Abebe Gellaw

Shocked, Zenawi became completely disoriented and tongue-tied. “In the land of free speech, he was rendered speechless,” one reporter wrote. Indeed, it almost seemed that for a second, the dictator, who has silenced many during his reign, tasted his own bitter medicine. Abebe lived up to his status as a “terrorist”, as his courageous act did indeed terrorize the dictator. Being called a terrorist by the Meles Regime only means that Abebe is doing a good job. 

In a country that actively represses the freedom of speech and the freedom of media, exemplified by the fact that there is only one national television station, one national daily, one internet service provider, one national radio and one telecommunication provider for its 80 million citizens, Ethiopian journalists have always lived in a constant state of fear. In fact, Ethiopia is the leading source of exiled journalists in the world.

“You cannot be a journalist in Ethiopia,” Abebe lamented, “unless you praise the Government.”

But how could one genuinely praise the Government? The Meles Regime killed over 200 people for protesting against a rigged election in which Meles stopped the counts in most parts of the country, declared himself the winner and threw 40,000 protestors in jail. He enacted an Act that categorizes terrorism so broadly that virtually any opposition to the Regime is made illegal. 

But people are not that easily silenced.

Founded in 2005 by a band of exiled journalists around the world such as Mr. Gellaw himself, the Ethiopian Satellite Television (ESAT) challenges the Government by telling the truth– news otherwise censored in local Ethiopian media. However, as ESAT gains popularity, the Meles Regime began jamming its radio signals, which entails overriding the original signals with noise so as to make the original signal inaudible. While countermeasures are available, there are no guarantees that they could work and implementation is difficult and often costly. The road ahead may be treacherous, but ESAT is ready to brave through the obstacles to achieve its goal—delivering the truth to the people of Ethiopia.

It is against this backdrop of worsening human rights that Abebe confronted the very Dictator that exiled him. Now, exciting things are happening for Abebe. At the 2012 Oslo Freedom Forum in May, Abebe, as a speaker at the Forum organized by the Human Rights Foundation, announced that another speaker at the Forum, Mr. Irwin Cotler, former Minister of Justice of Canada who played an integral part in the freeing of Nelson Mandela, has agreed to take on his case and fight for justice. Because of Mr. Cotler’s help, Abebe’s cry for freedom will be even louder and heard by even more people.