“The
Government should ensure the freedom of movement of media personnel in the
North and East, as it would help in the exchange of information contributing to
reconciliation” (Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission, recommendation
9.115-d)
 |
Soldier – you can’t filmWe – why can’t we film? Under what law are we being prevented? The GA told us we can film!Soldier – sorry, but my orders are not to allow you to film, if you want, you can video from a mobile phone
( October 30, 2012,
Geneva/Colombo, Sri Lanka Guardian) After more than 11 months of the LLRC
report being handed over to the President, the above recommendation remains far
from reality, despite the National Action Plan to Implement Recommendations of
the LLRC reaffirming it by committing to identify and remove impediments to
free movement of media personnel in the North and East.
A few days ago, I
accompanied a crew from a local TV station to the Mullativu district to do a
story on the life of the last batches of people who left Menik Farm before its
closure in late September 2012.
First, our team met the
Government Agent for Mullativu, who told us we could go and film the
resettlement and relocation areas, and in fact, encouraged us to give maximum coverage
to avoid misrepresentation of facts. Considering restrictions imposed by the
military on journalists who had visited before[1],
our team asked whether the GA could give us a letter granting us permission to
go to Seeniyamottai[2].
He however told us that there were no restrictions, no necessity to obtain
approval, and hence, no requirement for any letters.
So we reached
Seeniyamottai by around 10.30am, located in the interiors of the Vattapalai - Puthukudiyiruppu
road. When we turned further interior, we saw a sign board with the words
“Keppapulavu Model Village” in Tamil and English. The military check point
which had stopped some of us on our previous visit a few weeks back was no
longer there. I thought access has been eased.
As some men were
digging a well there, our team spoke to some of them and they indicated
willingness to be filmed and interviewed. As we were filming, an Army officer
in uniform approached us and asked us where we were from. He didn’t ask us for
any identification or the identity card issued by the Government’s Information
Department. Instead, he told us that no filming was allowed, unless we got prior
permission from the Security Forces (SF) Commander. When we replied that
Mullativu GA had told us personally a few hours ago that we could film any
civilian resettlement and relocation area, specifically including Senniyamottai,
the Army officer insisted that permission would need to be got from the SF
Commander.
The Army Officer refused
to give us his name, rank or phone number, and simply introduced himself as the
Officer in Charge (OIC) for the camp. We called the GA and he again told us that
we could continue with our filming, and to meet with the Grama Niladari (GN), who
he would instruct to facilitate our work. When we met the GN, he too confirmed
that we could continue filming after speaking on the phone with the GA. In the
meantime, another Army Officer in uniform questioned us in a slight more
aggressive and threatening manner about who we were, and told us that he had
orders to remove us from the camp. Just before, several inmates of the camp
told us that this Army officer was asking them (inmates of the camp) who we
were and what we were doing there and to ask us to leave the camp. When we told
this Army officer that the GA had given us the green light to go ahead with our
filming, the officer insisted that the GA didn’t matter, and if we wanted to do
any filming, we had to get permission from the SF Commander. When we asked
whether the SF Commander could overrule the GA in a civilian activity of
journalism in a civilian space such as an IDP camp (or a model village as the
name board now proclaimed), he said that the final decisions are taken by the
SF Commander. When we asked under what law they were preventing us from
filming, the officer’s response was that he was merely carrying out orders and
delivering messages from their superiors, without of course mentioning who actually
the superior officers were.
Thereafter, the GN told
us that he was helpless despite the clear orders he had received from the GA,
and he himself agreeing on principle that we should be permitted to film. He suggested
that it would be more practical and easy for us if we could get permission from
the SF Commander. As it became quite clear to us that we were going to be
physically removed if we resisted, and also because we were keen to do the
filming, we decided to compromise for the time being and request the SF
Commander for permission.
The OIC refused to tell
us the name, rank or the telephone number of the superior officer he had asked
us to get permission from, and merely asked that we leave the camp and go directly
to the SF Headquarters nearby. We went to the entrance of the closest Army camp,
and the Military Police officer on duty told us that he had contacted the
person in charge, and that we should await his response. We asked whether we
can meet or even call the relevant person, but he refused to give us a name,
rank, or telephone number of a person we could contact. After about 10-15
minutes, he suggested we go to another check point several kilometers further
away towards Puthukudiyiruppu, as it might be faster to get permission from
there. We decided to follow his advice, but as we were moving there, the
Military Police officer called us and told us that he had got a message that we
could go to the camp to continue our filming. We turned back towards the camp
and on the way, thanked him for his efforts. However, when we reached the camp,
the OIC said he had not got any message permitting us to carry out our filming.
He then spoke to his superior on the phone and confirmed this. When we called
the Military Police officer who told us we could go ahead, and asked him who
had given us the green light, he said he didn’t know who had given him the
order, as he had just been asked to pass on the message to us. The OIC also spoke
to the Military Police officer and informed him that he could not permit us to
do any filming unless he knew who had given that order. The OIC had previously
told us that we could talk to people and take photos, but he told us that even
taking photos or talking to people would not be allowed now. At his insistence,
we again proceeded towards the checkpoint located several kilometers away. The
officer there informed us that the SF Commander, his deputy and all other
senior officers were away, and that there was no one we could call or meet, or that
he could contact, to grant us the necessary permission. We tried to call the GA
again several times, but there was no answer. As we had already spent more than
90 minutes travelling to and fro and waiting around, we decided to proceed to
our other destinations with the hope of returning here later that afternoon.
In the meantime, a
colleague in Colombo had contacted the Army Media Spokesperson, who had
mentioned that there was no restriction for media in these areas, and to
contact Col. Wanasinghe at the 59th Division if we faced any
problems. When we spoke to Col. Wanasinghe on the phone, he too affirmed that
there were no restrictions on filming, and that there would have been some
miscommunication, and that he would sort it out and call us back, so we could
go ahead with filming. We waited for the call from him, but when the call never
came, we tried to contact Col. Wanasinghe on our own, but could not get
through. In desperation, we backtracked all the way to the 59th Division
Headquarters, where we were told that Col. Wanasinghe was away and therefore
could not be contacted. We spent more time waiting, but didn’t hear from him
and as it was turning dark, were compelled to abandon the idea of filming in
Seeniyamottai and turned back. Some of the more experienced crew members
pointed out that the military officers in the camp, SF Headquarters and in
Colombo were all part of one game of frustrating and delaying us and preventing
us from filming.
Earlier in the afternoon,
after having left Seeniyamottai, we travelled to Puthukdiriyippu East, where we
interviewed a school boy and some residents who had been recently resettled,
with their full consent. People seemed eager to talk and tell their stories and
we seemed to be finding more people to interview than we could manage in the
time we had. As the crew was filming, two Army officers approached us and told
us that we were not permitted to film in the area. We repeated the fact that
the GA had told us it was alright to film, and asked under what law we were
being prevented from filming. However, the stock response seemed to be that
they were merely carrying out orders from their superiors.
When we pointed out
that we were filming within the premises of a privately owned property, he
still insisted that it cannot be allowed. Again, realizing it was futile to
resist in the face of clearly hostile armed military personnel, we decided to leave
the area.
We proceeded towards
Mullathivu via Mullivaikal, and as we were leaving, we tried to film the pile
of abandoned lorries, buses, vans, cycles etc. piled up in the fields. I had
seen countless tourists groups – mainly Sinhalese – videoing and taking
photographs of these very items in my visits to the area last month and August
this year. However, once again, a soldier in uniform materialized, and we
exchanged our usual manthras.
Soldier
– you can’t film
We
– why can’t we film? Under what law are we being prevented? The GA told us we
can film!
Soldier
– sorry, but my orders are not to allow you to film, if you want, you can video
from a mobile phone
So we stopped filming
and proceeded further.
We observed a good
friend who had come to remove a lorry that had been left behind during the last
phase of the war. He showed us a file containing many documents, and told us
that he had been put through an extensive process involving multiple documents
and signatures of government and military officials, and that finally after several
months, the procedures were complete, and he was ready to remove his lorry. Our
friend told us it was alright to film the lorry. But as soon as we started
filming, military personnel approached us. So back to the chorus:
Solder
– you can’t film
We
- GA had told us it was ok to film, this is a civilian area, we are filming a
lorry which is a private property with the full consent of the owner. Under
what law are you asking us not to film?
Soldier
- We are carrying out orders and delivering messages from superior military
officers and what the GA and the owner says doesn’t matter
So we stopped filming
yet again, and proceeded.
By this time, we had
realized we were being followed by men on push bicycles. We thought of ways we
usually get rid or make life difficult for those who follow us around, but
since we had nothing to hide, we decided not to do anything to make it
difficult for them to follow us. Later on, at a place in Mullivaikal which was
not a check-point, (where I had never been stopped before on any of my previous
visits, and had not seen any other vehicle being stopped), we were stopped by a
group of soldiers who surrounded our van and asked us menacingly where we were going.
They didn’t ask us who we were. Clearly we were marked and they were waiting
for us. We told them that we were going towards Mullativu. “They are here, and
they say they are going to Mullativu,” was the message one of the soldiers
communicated to someone else in Sinhalese on his radio set. A while later, he
got the response, and “ok, sir says to allow
them to go,” was the message the solider who took the call gave to the soldier on
the motorbike, who appeared to be the leader of the group of soldiers who had
surrounded our van.
So we were free to
proceed.
Our next stop was to
talk to a family in Puthukudiyirupu West, whose resettlement had been delayed,
as the Army had been occupying their land, when they left Menik Farm in
September 2012[3].
Even at the time of our visit, the Army was still occupying part of his
land. As soon as our team went into the
garden, two Army officers materialized like magic. This time, they didn’t
prevent our team from filming, but stood at the entrance watching. Several
other Army officers were coming and going and staring at our parked van. Some
peeped inside, and one questioned those inside the van. There was a new chorus
now:
Who
are you? What media institution are you from? What are you filming about? Why
did you choose this area? Are there any foreigners? (Perhaps the fair lady in our team who
spoke in English because she was not Sinhalese, was mistaken for a foreigner?)
We patiently tried to
answer their questions and then bid our farewell to the family.
We thought we would push
our luck further and try and meet and film one more family who had resettled
recently, this time in Manthuvil. By now, we would have been surprised if
military personnel didn’t turn up like clockwork as soon as our team went into
the garden and started filming. We were not wrong! It was time for the new chorus:
Who
are you? What media institution are you from? What are you filming about? Why
did you choose this area? Are there any foreigners?
But by this time, we
were getting desperate phone calls from the people we had interviewed before,
saying that officers from the military and the Criminal Investigation
Department (CID) were questioning them about who we were, and if they had known
us before, what we had asked, whether they had our phone numbers etc. All the
three areas we visited and those we interviewed were also “interviewed” by the
Army, and some also by the CID.
Strangely, none of the
soldiers who had stopped us from filming questioned us and subjected us to
surveillance asked for our national identity cards, the company identity cards
or journalistic identity cards issued to some of us by the Government
Information Department.
So we decided to call
it a day. But our friends the soldiers wanted to have the last say:
Where
are you going next?
How
long will you stay?
Maybe they were getting
fed up of following us and keeping track!
Anyways, by this time,
we were concerned about our safety and even more about the safety of those we
had interviewed and filmed, so we left. Anyways, we were fed up of these
restrictions and surveillance by the military.
And besides, we still wanted to have a last shot at filming in
Seeniyamottai, which in the end, military made sure didn’t happen.
But our experience
seems to be the rule, rather than the exception. Few weeks ago, myself and
another colleague were subjected to intense surveillance, and our driver was
grilled when we visited the IDP camp in Seeniyamottai.[4] At
least three well known journalists (one foreign and two local) had reportedly
been prevented from visiting the same IDP camp, whilst also being threatened,
intimidated and subjected to surveillance.[5]
We returned with more
questions on our minds;
·
Under which law can the
military stop journalists from accessing civilian areas, private civilian
properties and interviewing civilians, when the concerned civilians are clearly
consenting, and even eager?
·
Can the military
(Security Forces Commander or soldiers) overrule the Government Agent in the
carrying out of civilian activities such as journalism in civilian areas?
·
Why would the military
ask contact numbers from those interviewed by journalists, when they had shown
no interest in examining the identification, credentials or contact details of
the journalists themselves?
And contrary to the GA
who asked us to give maximum coverage in order not to misrepresent facts,
transparency is clearly the last thing the military seem to want in relation to
resettlement and relocation.
And media freedom
clearly has a long way to go in Sri Lanka.
Especially in the
North, which seems a different country with a different set of rules – or no
rules - as military can even overrule a District Secretary (GA) without
reference to any law.
It seems clear the
government doesn’t want the people in other parts of Sri Lanka and outside
world to know the bitter truths of land occupation by the military and miseries
of resettled people in the North, which runs contrary to the government’s fairy
tales about resettlement.
If there is nothing to
hide, why prevent journalists and TV crews from talking and filming –
especially when the people are eager to tell their stories and show how they
live?
[2] The place where
people whose land had been occupied by the military have been relocated, see http://www.srilankabrief.org/2012/10/menik-farm-tragic-end-of-bitter-saga.html,
http://www.ceylontoday.lk/59-13681-news-detail-relocated-to-nowhere.html
and http://www.thesundayleader.lk/2012/09/30/menik-farm-and-beyond/
[5] See “Terrorist
haven or crime scene: tourists take in the Tiger Trail” by Francis Elliot on 13th
October 2012, published on the The Times,
http://www.srilankabrief.org/2012/10/menik-farm-tragic-end-of-bitter-saga.html
,
http://www.ceylontoday.lk/59-13681-news-detail-relocated-to-nowhere.html
and http://www.thesundayleader.lk/2012/09/30/menik-farm-and-beyond/
