Can the media be a sanctuary for human rights?

One of the great dramatic moments in Victor Hugo’s novel Notre-Dame de Paris comes when Quasimodo snatches the gypsy Esmeralda from the hands of her would-be executioners and escapes with her into the great church of Notre-Dame:
‘The people, fond of daring deeds, followed him with their eyes through the dark nave, regretting that he had so quickly withdrawn himself from their acclamations. Suddenly he was seen again at one end of the gallery of the kings of France. He ran along it like a frenzied person, lifting his prize in his arms and shouting, “Sanctuary!” The crowd again burst forth with applause. When he had crossed the gallery, he plunged again into the interior of the church. A minute later, he reappeared on the upper platform, still carrying the gypsy in his arms, still running madly along, still crying, “Sanctuary!” And the crowd applauded again. At last he made a third appearance atop the tower of the great bell. There he seemed to show proudly to the whole city her whom he had saved, and his thundering voice, that voice which was heard so rarely, and which he had never heard, repeated three times with frenzy, even to the clouds, “Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Sanctuary!”’(1)
This moment is equally striking in the best-known film adaptation of the story, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939) starring Charles Laughton.(2)

What was ‘sanctuary’ and why was it held inviolable? In ancient Egypt the temples of Osiris and Amon offered the right of sanctuary. In ancient Greece all temples enjoyed this privilege, and certain of them, like the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, were known throughout the Mediterranean as a haven for fugitives. In ancient Rome, sanctuary was often sought by runaway slaves.

Emperor Constantine I is said to have given Christian churches the right of sanctuary. Asylum was originally confined to the church itself, but later its limits were extended to include the precincts and occasionally a larger area marked by ‘sanctuary crosses’. In England in Norman times there were two kinds of sanctuary, one belonging to every church by prescription and the other by special royal charter. The latter was considered much safer. A fugitive convicted of a felony and taking sanctuary was afforded protection from 30 to 40 days, after which he had to leave the kingdom and take an oath not to return without the king’s permission.

During the Middle Ages, the period in which Notre-Dame de Paris is set, sanctuary served as a refuge for persons fleeing from violence or the penalties of the law. To injure a person in sanctuary or to remove him or her forcibly was considered sacrilegious. Violations were punishable by fines or excommunication. In some cases there was a stone seat within the church, called the ‘frith-stool’, which the seeker of sanctuary had to reach in order to establish a claim to protection. More commonly, there was a large ring or knocker on the church door, holding on to which gave the right of asylum.

Political and social pressure

In the last few years, the concept of sanctuary has come under fierce political and social pressure. In Bethlehem in April 2002, 124 Palestinians sought refuge in the Church of the Nativity, which was quickly surrounded by Israeli armed forces. A five-week stand-off ensued, after which the Palestinians, including 13 ‘senior terrorists’ according to Israel, were allowed to emerge unharmed. They were flown by British military aircraft to Cyprus and then exiled in several European countries. Israel did not, on that occasion, violate the church’s sanctuary and, with the eyes of the world on it, accepted the ‘voluntary’ exile of the Palestinians.

In April 2004, police in Quebec City, Canada, stormed the Église Unie St. Pierre to remove 35-year old Mohammed Cherfi, who had taken refuge in the basement. The man faced deportation to Algeria for violating bail conditions by taking part in a demonstration. Immigration Minister Judy Sgro criticised the practice of offering sanctuary to refugees. In response a panel of leaders representing 11 major churches was convened, who declared that ‘For us, the duty to care for refugees at risk takes the form of hospitality and nurture and solidarity and protection and hope’, adding that there are situations in which sanctuary is the only recourse that is fair (The Globe and Mail, 4 August 2004).

The controversy provoked a flurry of newspaper articles and letters, including a response from Audrey Macklin, University of Toronto professor of law, one of Canada’s foremost experts on refugee law and a former member of the Immigration and Refugee Board. In an interview she called the practice of sanctuary a valuable ‘safety valve’ for an adjudication process that is significantly flawed (The Globe and Mail, 5 August 2004).

The media pick up such stories as ‘newsworthy’, sometimes sensationalising them. In the Israeli/Palestinian case, there was every possibility that the confrontation would escalate into open violence. In the Canadian case, a single incident was a topical reminder of the precarious status and treatment of political refugees. Yet there is a sense that it is the media today – rather than the churches – that are the bastions of sanctuary. If the media ignore an event, it has not ‘happened’. Public opinion is silent, because no one ‘knows’ what is going on. Conversely, when the media cover a story, particularly one that involves human rights violations, public opinion responds.

When media coverage fails

The media cannot provide the bricks and mortar protection of a church building, but they can offer a kind of metaphysical environment that, at least, draws public attention to human rights violations. Unfortunately, in the worst situations, media coverage cannot save lives. This was dramatically and tragically proven by the case of Ken Saro-Wiwa, television producer, writer of satirical novels, children’s tales, and plays.

Saro-Wiwa, imprisoned in 1994 by order of Nigerian dictator Sani Abacha, had strongly defended the rights of the Ogoni people and criticised the government’s environmentally and culturally damaging oil policies. Despite wide international protest, Saro-Wiwa was hanged in Port Harcourt, on 10 November 1995, after a show trial involving eight other Ogoni rights activists. A media-led campaign was unable to save him.

In 1990 Saro-Wiwa had founded the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People (MOSOP). A more radical youth movement, also founded by Saro-Wiwa, was allegedly engaged in sabotage against Shell. The company decided to cease operations in Ogoniland in 1993. In his books Nigeria, The Brink of Disaster (1991) and Genocide in Nigeria: The Ogoni Tragedy (1992), Saro-Wiwa criticised local corruption and condemned Shell and British Petroleum. The Nigerian government decided to break MOSOP and Saro-Wiwa was arrested.

In a letter written in prison and published in London in both The Mail and The Guardian in May 1995, Saro-Wiwa stated: ‘Ultimately the fault lies at the door of the British government. It is the British government which supplies arms and credit to the military dictators of Nigeria, knowing full well that all such arms will only be used against innocent, unarmed citizens.’

In another letter he said: ‘The most important thing for me is that I’ve used my talents as a writer to enable the Ogoni people to confront their tormentors. I was not able to do it as a politician or a businessman. My writing did it. And it sure makes me feel good! I’m mentally prepared for the worst, but hopeful for the best. I think I have the moral victory.’

Why is media coverage important?

Most governments care about their public image. Democratically elected governments wish to be re-elected. All governments wish to attract foreign investment and promote their country’s tourism industry. No government likes domestic or international criticism. With regard to human rights, the media can:
‘Play a key role in building awareness and shaping public opinion on human rights and related issues; shape the framework and nature of debates over important issues affecting human rights, not least the death penalty or human rights in foreign policy; generate action from its audience; influence government policy, both directly and through its power to influence and mobilise opinion; put direct pressure on a government by placing it in the spotlight; help build the morale and influence of human rights activists and organisations all over the world; investigate and expose human rights issues.’(3)
One problem for the media – setting aside proprietorial or editorial obstacles – is access to accurate and reliable information. The problem for human rights groups is how to ensure that the massive amount of violation data they collect reaches its intended audience. A large part is lost due to confiscation or destruction, neglect, the passage of time or because the activists who gather the data lack the resources and infrastructure to document and communicate it systematically and securely.

Now a new, tried and tested tool is available to human rights groups and accessible by others via organisations that use it. The Martus Project (martus is the Greek word for witness) is a free software based on open source technology. Launched in 2003 and built by Benetech as a ‘global social justice monitoring system’, it uses built-in encryption to safeguard data, enables text-based bulletins about violations to be created easily and quickly, and securely backs up information and replicates it in multiple locations to guard against loss.

Martus is currently being applied to areas of social justice, including human rights, political rights and violence against women. Martus can also be used to monitor and report other issues such as human trafficking, environmental destruction and hate crimes based on gender, sexual orientation or religious persecution. Training in how to use the system has been done by the U.S.-based Asia Foundation, which is supporting work in the Philippines, Thailand, Cambodia and Nepal. Since 2005 the Citizens’ Coalition for Constitutional Change in Kenya has also been using Martus.(4)

There are problems. According to the Global Internet Liberty Campaign, many logistical and legal issues remain to be resolved. In its current form, Martus requires users to have computers with Internet connections, which can be problematic in developing or conflict-torn countries. In addition, many countries have laws that ban encryption products.(5)

The mass media as ‘sanctuary’?

In the past, the notion of ‘sanctuary’ provided a temporary haven from the hazards of persecution. In today’s world of gross human rights violations, political refugees and attacks on social activists, the mass media – at least those that are relatively independent of governments and owners – could serve as a metaphorical ‘sanctuary’ for people whose human rights are under threat.

To do so, the media would have to take the moral ‘high ground’ previously occupied by the concept of sanctuary in church. The media cannot physically defend individuals and communities, although many journalists have lost their lives trying to do so. However, they can offer a measure of protection to the degree that they make public – and keep in the public eye – actual human rights violations. They can and should systematically denounce potential human rights abuses.

While this may appear to contradict the mass media’s much lauded precept of ‘impartiality’, many feel that such principles have already gone out of the window:
‘Broadcasters gesture cryptically at the truth, but continue, as if by instinct, to present received wisdoms in clichéd language acceptable to “us”, the term frequently used for Western power: its narcissism and censorship by omission, its good and bad terrorists, worthy and unworthy victims. This is journalism through a one-way mirror.’(6)

The mass media have always been subject to particular economic and political interests, most recently camouflaged as the war on terrorism or the struggle to preserve democracy. Denis McQuail says that one of the public and collective issues on which the media can be called to account is the way it upholds (or not) human rights and international obligations. He identifies two specific types of media responsibility:

‘Having causal responsibility. The media are potentially powerful agents that can affect behaviour and attitudes, whether intentionally or not, giving rise to claims of harm. The failure to achieve certain effects, for instance in the sphere of public information, leading to public ignorance, apathy or cynicism, may be treated under this heading.

Having moral responsibility. While moral responsibility [is] a matter of the conscience of the many individuals in media, there may also be a collective responsibility, not for direct harm but for general and long-term consequences, usually unintended, of publication practices.’(7)

Taken together, the careful exercise of both causal responsibility (intentionally affecting behaviour and attitudes) and moral responsibility (ameliorating the general and long-term consequences of harm) could significantly improve human rights worldwide. While the media cannot provide de facto sanctuary, they can create an environment in which human rights are persistently upheld and human rights violations exposed to public scrutiny and condemnation.

It is unrealistic, if not naive, to think that today’s mass media might be so altruistic. They are ‘a prisoner of what people in power say’ and of the paucity of public participation in media ownership and control.(8)

Even if political sanctuary in the media were possible, it ought to be complemented by renewed commitment to sanctuary in social sectors. For example, commitment by the state health sector to sanctuary for those who cannot afford hospital treatment; commitment by the state welfare sector to sanctuary for those suffering from mental disability; commitment by the state education sector to sanctuary for those with learning difficulties.

In some countries and to varying degrees, such protection (sanctuary) is available. In the majority – large parts of sub-Saharan Africa, Latin America, and Asia – it is not. The argument for sanctuary can be seen, therefore, as an essential aspect of the discourse on democracy and, indeed, of the discourse on media ethics. In their detailed discussion of agape (understood in both secular and New Testament terms as the highest order of self-giving love), Craig and Ferré propose it as an ethic of care for journalism. In particular they identify two aspects that have the potential to strengthen journalism’s best practices:
‘The first potential contribution is a challenge to pursue the best of journalism steadfastly – especially journalism that serves the ill-treated and those lacking power – in the face of market pressures or desires for professional self-advancement... The second potential contribution of agape to journalists’ understanding of care lies in its radical and unalterable commitment to fairness.’(9)

In this light, by systematically and steadfastly advocating human rights in order to fulfil their political and social responsibilities, the mass media attain the highest level of public service. Idealistic, perhaps, but it can be seen as a normative claim for the mass media to become a virtual sanctuary for the ill-treated and powerless – a universal claim unconstrained by religion or philosophy or culture because it is founded on the common humanity of all people.

Where do we go from here?

Notes
1. Hugo, Victor (1831). The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. Translated by Walter J. Cobb. New York: Signet Classics, 1965. Folio edition (1998) p. 308.
2. Several other film adaptations of Victor Hugo’s novel have been made: Esmeralda (1905) – Alice Guy-Blache’s lost silent short; Esmeralda (1922), a silent British adaptation with Booth Conway as Quasimodo and Sybil Thorndike as Esmeralda; the silent classic The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) with Lon Chaney; The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1956) with Anthony Quinn and Gina Lollobrigida; a BBC TV play The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1977) with Warren Clarke and Michelle Newell; a Hallmark Hall of Fame TV movie The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1982) with Anthony Hopkins and Lesley-Ann Down; the Disney animation The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996); and The Hunchback (1997), a TV movie adaptation with Mandy Patinkin and Salma Hayek.
3. Amnesty International Campaigning Manual (1997). London: Amnesty International Publications, p. 160.
4. ‘Free software working for human rights’, by Frederick Noronha. Tectonic Magazine, 13 February 2006.
5. ‘Martus software may aid human rights reporting’ in GILC Alert, Vol. 7, Issue 2, 13 March 2003.
6. ‘The moral mirror’, by John Pilger. Free Press. Journal of the Campaign for Press and Broadcasting Freedom. No. 150 January-February 2006.
7. ‘Publication in a free society: The problem of accountability’. Open lecture by Professor Denis McQuail at University of Minho, Portugal, 5 May 2005. See: http://www.cecs.uminho.pt/activ/mcquail/D_McQuail_openlecture.pdf
8. See ‘The Problem of the Media’. David Barsamian interviews Robert McChesney. Z magazine, February 2006.
9. David A. Craig and John P. Ferré (2006). ‘Agape as an ethic of care for journalism’, in Journal of Mass Media Ethics, Vol. 21, Nos. 2 & 3.
Philip Lee studied modern languages at the University of Warwick, Coventry, and conducting and piano at the Royal Academy of Music, London. He joined the staff of the World Association for Christian Communication in 1975, where he is currently deputy program director and editor of the international journal Media Development. Publications include Requiem: Here’s Another Fine Mass You’ve Gotten Me Into (2001); and Many Voices, One Vision: The Right to Communicate in Practice (ed.) (2004).