Hassan Saeed Yusuf: One journalist who refuses to be silenced
Rakiya Omaar

I first met Hassan Saeed Yusuf, the editor of Jamhuriya, in Hargeisa central prison in June 1992. Since then, I have visited him there several times, most recently just over a week ago. Jailed by all three presidents of Somaliland, Hassan has been arrested 15 times since 1992. On eight occasions, he has spent time, ranging from five days to a month, in Hargeisa central prison; other times he has been locked up in various police cells. Each time, however, he has been released, for lack of evidence, sometimes aided by international pressure; no court has ever brought a judgment against him.

Hassan's latest brush with the law came just after midnight on 31 August. Policemen came to his office to arrest him in connection with an article he had published that day about the Somali peace talks in Kenya. The article quoted from interviews with Somali delegates to the talks, including some politicians who claimed that the opposition in Somaliland, rather than the government, has taken a hard-line against the prospects of any possible reunification with Somalia.

Given what is at stake, the independence of Somaliland is a sensitive political topic, domestically, regionally and internationally, making it all the more important to have a robust public debate so that the public can make informed judgements. Journalists, like other Somalilanders, have the right to know what the government and the opposition are thinking, and doing, about crucial issues that affect all of us as individuals, and which will determine our collective political future. More than that, they have a responsibility to shine a search light on what politicians would often prefer to hide. If the government wanted to challenge the veracity of these claims, it has many opportunities to make its view heard. Imprisoning Hassan will only fuel speculation that it has reason to be secretive on this issue.

On Wednesday 1 September, the day after he was arrested, Hassan was brought to a packed Hargeisa district court. Journalists, members of human rights organizations, of other NGOs and of the Civic Forum of Somaliland, turned out in full force. We listened as a distressed but resolute Hassan refused bail, saying that he had not committed a crime; had not been told the reason for his arrest; and insisted on his right to legal representation. He explained that he had been picked up from his office by CID officers, held overnight and then driven to the dry river bed in the centre of Hargeisa and warned that his throat would be slit if he continued to “harass” the government.

According to the charge sheet presented in court, the government accuses Hassan of presenting information that is “unbalanced”(Dheellitir la'aan). Surprised by the rejection of bail, the judge told Hassan that he would have to send him to prison, a fate he accepted. The judge fixed the hearing for Monday, 6 September, and told the CID officer in court to produce their evidence and witnesses. Immediately afterwards, the various civic representatives called a press conference and condemned the arrest in strong terms, spelt out the wider implications and emphasized the importance of civic solidarity. Those who addressed the press included Abdi Sahardeed, the chairperson of the Somaliland Council of NGOs (Cosongo); Ahmed Mohamed Abdirahman, vice-chair of NAGAAD, the umbrella for women's organizations; Zamzam Abdi Aden, director of the Committee of Concerned Somalis (CCS); Abdirahman Yusuf Arten, chair of the human rights group, Samatalis, and Suleiman Ismail Bulaleh, director of Human Rights Watch Committee. Ahmed Mohamed Ibrahim and Zamzam Abdi Aden, for instance, recalled Somaliland's painful struggle against the arbitrary exercise of power, and reminded the public of the need for constant vigilance in order to remain free and to live in dignity.

Buoyed by this show of support, Hassan was in good spirits when we saw him the following day, more or less at home in a prison he has come to know only too well. At 2:30 p.m., shortly after we left, CID officers came with a letter from the district court. He was taken to police headquarters to meet with the head of the police force, Mohamed Igge. According to Hassan, Igge informed him that “the President has released you.” But he told him that he must first sign a guarantee that “he would not write similar articles in future.” He refused to sign anything. “Instead, I asked him if the President had written me a letter of apology for wrongful detention.” The police commander responded by saying “we don't issue apologies to fraudsters.” Hassan refused to leave prison “until the crime I had committed had been substantiated, adding that I would otherwise bring a case myself against those behind my imprisonment.”

The argument with the commander continued and, Hassan commented, “I told him that I had been illegally arrested by police officers under his command, and moreover he had now appointed himself the judge.” Getting nowhere, Igge instructed the CID officers to drop the prisoner close to his office. They pointed out the illegality of this suggestion as the prisoner had not been released by a court of law. He then told them to return him to the prison, saying that he would telephone the head of the prison service and request him to order his release.

However, when they reached the prison, the prison warden asked them to come with an official letter from the court confirming his freedom. With the imminent arrival of a British delegation led by the ambassador to Addis Ababa, the government was anxious to avoid an embarrassing distraction. On Saturday, Hassan was told by his lawyer that the CID had met the judge, telling him that Hassan had refused to leave the prison, despite a pardon by the President, and asking for a letter from the court to force him out. But the judge told the CID either to argue their case against him or to bring a letter saying that they no longer had a case against him.

As scheduled, Hassan was brought to court on Sunday the 6th, but the prosecutor did not show up. The hearing was postponed until the 9th, and he was allowed out on bail by his lawyer, allowing him to be at liberty during the visit of the British delegation. Once more, the court room was jammed on the 9th, and a morning was wasted as the prosecution again failed to attend. The judge accepted the suggestion by Hassan's lawyers to summon them in writing, and the next hearing is planned for the 16th.

Though angry to be referred to as “the guilty party” without a shred of evidence, Hassan has drawn consolation and energy from the strong backing and unity shown by a wide spectrum of journalists and civic groups. This break with the past has made him, he said, “want to be a symbol of the determination to fight for justice.” Five lawyers from an association of lawyers agreed to represent him on a voluntary basis, and the Somaliland Association of Journalists (SOLJA) has publicly taken the government to task for attempting to curb freedom of expression.

He has vowed to sue the Attorney-General, Hussein Abdi Qalib, who signed the original warrant of arrest, if the government cannot prove its case in court, as well as the two officers who threatened to kill him. It would be naïve to underestimate the fragility of civil society in Somaliland, to ignore external pressure and to overlook its needs and internal difficulties. The very fact that some of those who spoke at the press conference were subsequently criticized by colleagues, or summoned by a Minister, lays bare the contradictions that inevitably plague small NGOs dependent on government favour for their economic survival or for other ends.

In an impoverished country like Somaliland, with limited prospects for educated individuals, NGOs, the media and international organizations offer the few existing alternatives for gainful employment. That people would hesitate before putting their future in jeopardy is understandable, but if the history of Somaliland itself teaches us anything, it shows that we swim or sink together. The illusion that a few fortunate people will continue to flourish while others languish in prison or battle a bureaucracy indifferent to human rights is just that-an illusion. Somaliland, and in particular civil society, owes a debt of gratitude to Jamhuriya, a beacon for freedom of information and expression when no other newspaper existed. Its journalists, including Hassan, have paid a heavy price for our liberty. In standing by him today, we are remembering our past, and consolidating our collective future.

* Rakiya A. Omaar is the director of the international human rights organization, African Rights.