Global Free Speech

Global Free Speech covers international stories and trends affecting the right to speak, publish, and share ideas across borders. From government crackdowns to grassroots movements, this category highlights the global fight for free expression in diverse political and cultural landscapes.

Georgi Markov was a victim of transnational repression (AP via Alamy) More than four decades after Bulgarian dissident and writer Georgi Markov was assassinated in London, governments and their proxies continue to reach across borders to silence dissenting voices. Markov’s assassination on 11 September 1978, when he was attacked with a poisoned ricin pellet fired from an umbrella on Waterloo Bridge, remains one of the most notorious examples of a state extending its repression beyond its own territory. His death is a stark reminder that exile does not necessarily mean safety. Transnational repression (TNR) describes the ways in which governments and their proxies seek to intimidate, surveil, harass, threaten and harm people beyond their borders. Those targeted include human rights defenders, journalists, academics and members of diaspora communities. In recent years, the threat has taken new and increasingly sophisticated forms. Tactics can range from digital surveillance and intimidation to the misuse of international policing mechanisms, physical violence and targeted killings.  A new project supported by the Swedish Postcode Lottery Foundation, and delivered by Index on Censorship, the Foreign Policy Centre and International Partnership for Human Rights, aims to help strengthen the evidence base on transnational repression, connect organisations and communities working on the issue, and translate research and lived experience into stronger protections and more coordinated policy responses across Europe. The anniversary of Markov’s assassination provides a timely reminder of why this work matters. While the technologies and tactics used to target people abroad have changed dramatically since 1978, the underlying objective remains familiar: to silence those who challenge repression and defend fundamental rights. Andreas Eriksson, Secretary General of the Swedish Postcode Lottery Foundation, said: “No one should have to face threats and harassment for defending human rights. By strengthening support for at-risk human rights defenders and increasing awareness among decision-makers, this project helps promote stronger democracy and freedom of expression in Europe. We are proud to make this important work possible.” Jessica Ní Mhainín, Head of Policy and Campaigns at Index on Censorship, said: “Transnational repression thrives when it remains hidden and when those targeted have nowhere to turn. This project aims to help bring the issue into the light and, in so doing, to support those affected and to push for a stronger response to the issue across Europe. Index on Censorship is delighted to be working with the Foreign Policy Centre and International Partnership for Human Rights, with the support of the Swedish Postcode Lottery Foundation, to tackle transnational repression and to support those affected.” Izzy Cutts, Policy and Parliamentary Affairs Manager at the Foreign Policy Centre, said: “Protecting human rights defenders and their work from repressive actors is crucial to safeguarding our democracy and values. We welcome the recent progress on acknowledging transnational repression by European Institutions but more needs to be done to support and protect those at risk. We look forward to working with Index on Censorship and the International Partnership for Human Rights on this project and are grateful for the support of the Swedish Postcode Lottery Foundation.” READ MORE

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More than four decades after Bulgarian dissident and writer Georgi Markov was assassinated in London, governments and their proxies continue…

A total of 31 journalists were killed in the attack (© Saddam Ahmed/IRPI Media) It has been just over a year since 31 journalists were killed by a single bomb in the Yemen capital of Sanaa. The Italian media consortium Investigative Reporting Project Italy (IRPI) has interviewed survivors and pieced together what happened Entry is permitted only to journalists, media personnel, witnesses, survivors, victims’ families, and officials authorised to access the site, located in the heart of Sanaa’s administrative district. Beyond the gate lies a mountain of wild rubble. At the centre of the site stand the scant remains of the printing presses used by the weekly newspaper 26 September, alongside a banner displaying images of the victims of 10 September 2025 massacre. Survivors find it painful to look at the wreckage. Ibrahim al-Masoudi, an illustrator and calligrapher, narrowly escaped death one year ago. He has since lost his hearing, though he retains his sight allowing him to weep for the 31 colleagues killed that afternoon by an American bomb. This weapon – a precision guided bomb with a thermal battery warhead manufactured in Missouri, the tracking of which was confirmed by our investigation for the IRPI – was dropped by the Israeli military on Sanaa, the capital of the pro-Iranian Yemeni Houthi government. Survivors find it hard to look at the devastation in Sanaa (© Saddam Ahmed/IRPI Media) Recent clashes between the Aden-based government – backed by the Saudi military – and the troops of Ansarullah (the name of the Yemeni Houthi party) have reignited the conflict between the region’s Sunni and Shia blocs on the Arabian Peninsula. Pro-Iranian militias in northern Yemen have also repeatedly struck Israel with missiles and drones and blocked Red Sea shipping following the outbreak of the war between Israel and Hamas. Yet, the memory of this massacre of journalists endures, standing as one of the gravest violations of press freedom in the last 20 years. This was, in fact, the single attack that has claimed the lives of the highest number of journalists since 2009 – occurring during the worst year on record for global press safety, with a death toll of 129 media workers according to the CPJ, primarily in Gaza.  On that day – a Thursday, the final workday of the week in Yemen – the bomb was dropped in the middle of the afternoon, just as people were returning from work and the weekly newspaper was being printed for its Friday release. The printing presses were running at full capacity. The son of Esam al-Hashidi, a journalist supporting a large family, had joined his father at work after leaving school. “The son,” reports Noria al-Harazi, a journalist who survived the attack and an editor for 26 September, “had told his mother that after school he preferred to accompany his father to work to watch and learn, so that he could support the family in the future should his father grow old or die.” Rescuers reported finding the father’s remains embracing what was left of the eleven-year-old boy. Esam’s son is one of the “collateral victims” of the massacre on 10 September 2025. On that day alone, the Yemen Data Project recorded a high number of casualties aside from the journalists: 22 men, 11 women, and 5 children killed. One reason for this is that the newspaper compound which was targeted was located in the city centre, surrounded by a bus station, heavily crowded during rush hours. Rescuers reported finding the father’s remains embracing what was left of the eleven-year-old boy  The compound housed the editorial offices of two state-owned Yemeni newspapers – 26 September  and al-Yemen which existed long before the pro-Iranian Houthi militia seized control of state institutions in 2014. Along with the two newsrooms, their staff, and all the machinery and printing presses, Yemen’s central historical archive was also incinerated; the archive had been established alongside the 26 September newspaper, which was set up following the revolution of 26 September 1962 (hence its name), the event in which republicans overthrew the imamate that had ruled the country for centuries.  “Stored here were 36 million photographic negatives and a vast number of documents from the Ottoman era, images of tourist sites, press interviews with government officials. Everything went up in smoke, burned, vanished: nothing remains,” says Nabil Shobail, head of the archive and deputy director of the photography department. Nabil bows in front of a series of black-and-white photographs scattered at the bottom of a pit – reached via a rough path leading into the hollow left by the bomb that destroyed the building housing the archive. “Look, this is Marshal Abdullah al-Sallal; he was one of Yemen’s presidents following the republican revolution of September 26th, in 1962. Twelve years of war weren’t enough. Now our history has been erased, too: who will give it back to us?” The massacre of these Yemeni journalists has garnered little international attention. There are several reasons: the difficulty the international press faced in accessing areas controlled by pro-Iranian militias; Houthi authorities’ concerns about protecting the site and the bomb evidence from potential further attacks; the dehumanisation of professionals who are allied with Iran – or who are Lebanese, Palestinian, Iraqi, Syrian, or Yemeni. Collectively, these factors have stifled efforts to determine accountability and kept details of the massacre from coming to light, within a global context where respect for international law has taken a back seat to the military objectives of the parties involved. “Everything went up in smoke, burned, vanished: nothing remains.” Killing journalists, unless they are directly involved in violence, is against international law, even if they are presenting the views of an armed group. But Israeli Defence Minister Israel Katz justified the attack, claiming the compound housed the “Houthi propaganda apparatus” belonging to the public relations department of their party, Ansarullah. Today from Ukraine to Sudan, from Gaza to Lebanon and Yemen, being a doctor, paramedic, or journalist offers no protection against friendly or enemy fire; instead, it makes one a target. Reiterating that journalism is never a crime has not shielded these colleagues from death. READ MORE

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It has been just over a year since 31 journalists were killed by a single bomb in the Yemen capital…

Copyright law – which is meant to protect writers and reporters – is being used against us. In Azerbaijan, Somalia and Florida, unfounded copyright complaints have recently been deployed to make critical reporting disappear. The misuse of copyright law isn’t new, but to read three similar stories in quick succession takes it from being a tool used sporadically (and egregiously) to stifle dissent to something that feels far more calculated and embedded. I was first alerted to the trend last week when I received an email from Gunel Safarova, acting editor-in-chief of Azerbaijani outlet Abzas Media. Safarova’s email alerted the international community to the fact that Meta had recently blocked the Instagram pages of Abzas and a host of other independent media outlets and individual journalists from the country, following accusations of copyright infringement. Then I read a similar story out of Somalia, and another one again from the USA. In the case of Azerbaijan, Safarova said that even though the complainants apparently provided no evidence to show that they owned the intellectual property, Meta’s automated systems accepted the complaints regardless. Articles were removed, and in some cases entire Facebook accounts were deactivated. The Azerbaijan journalists believe the attacks are coordinated and are being carried out deliberately from the same central source. Safarova has called them a “continuation of a broader campaign of pressure and repression aimed at silencing independent media”. In Somalia, an investigation published by the Somali Journalists Syndicate listed numerous examples of independent media houses and journalists fighting coordinated fake copyright claims and content takedowns. The targeted stories were typically critical of the Somali federal government and state security agencies. Like in Azerbaijan, the online crackdown in Somalia is unfolding alongside growing restrictions on social media content and an increasingly hostile media environment (see our recent article for more). Mid-August, stories posted by the South Florida Sun Sentinel, WLRN, Florida Politics and other news outlets were removed from Google search results. The stories all concerned congressional candidate Michael Carbonara, an entrepreneur running in the Republican primary for Florida’s 22nd Congressional District last month. (He lost, to Casey Asker.) Some of the stories mentioned Carbonara’s ties to a controversial data centre in Michigan. David Schutz, managing editor at the Sun Sentinel, said: “Federal copyright law exists for an important reason: to protect original work from being stolen. It was never intended to be weaponized as a loophole to suppress reporting or hide inconvenient truths.” Schutz also highlighted the automated aspect of rights management processes, noting that systems have been created that are “far too easy for bad actors to manipulate”. This, I think, is a generous take. Copyright violations do happen, and social media platforms are right to take action against them. At the same time automated, AI-driven and anonymous complaints make processing fraudulent takedown notices easier and the job of moderators harder. (Index is running a feature about this in our forthcoming magazine, a thought experiment by contributor Kaya Genç.) A less generous take on the current state of affairs is this: tech companies are too quick and willing to trade free speech rights for access. Whatever the reason, the outcome is the same; “Page not found” are the three words that every censor loves to see. READ MORE

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Copyright law – which is meant to protect writers and reporters – is being used against us. In Azerbaijan, Somalia and…

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