Legal and Political Analysis of the Debate on the Most Precautionary Legislation
What Future for Freedom of Speech in Tunisia?
What if the law turned from a guardian of rights to a sword hanging over the necks of ideas? Imagine: criminalizing the output of the mind and the whispers of conscience, judging intentions before deeds, and restricting tongues for fear of the power of legal clauses that turn the expression of opinion into a crime punishable by imprisonment.
Chapter One: “Any thought or expression that contradicts the official general directions of the authority, questions the public policies of the government, or voices opinions that are not favoured by regime loyalists is considered an offence punishable by imprisonment.“
This chapter is a work of fiction, yet it is relevant to reality. What seems like a stretch of the imagination in a dystopian novel where thinking and expressing are criminalized has turned into reality under the cover of Decree No. 54 of 2022 dated 13 September 2022 on combating crimes related to information and communication systems, on the basis of which more than 80 citizens have been arrested since its issuance until November 2024, including political opponents, activists, lawyers, journalists, human rights defenders, and social media users.
This decree is not merely a law, but rather a regression from the spirit of the revolution that chanted “the people want to topple the regime.” The regime fell, but the culture of fear persists, replicating like a virus in the body of the state, feeding on what is left of the balance of struggle and belief in the possibility of change. However, the steadfastness of the word in the face of this ghoul assures us that prison locks do not silence the echo of letters, but rather convert them into bullets of light that demand a freedom that does not know the impossible.
Tunisia at the Crossroad of History: A Revolution in Search of its Salvation, Between the Democracy Slogans and the Trap of Absolute Power
The path that Tunisia has undergone since the revolution (of 17 December 2010 to 14 January 2011) has been filled by drastic and profound political and social changes that reflected the aspirations of Tunisian people for freedom, national dignity, and social justice. The slogans that flooded the streets at that time embodied a new prospect of hope and an unbridled desire to break with tyranny and build a democratic system that would consecrate rights and freedoms, which was translated into the 2014 Constitution, after a difficult labour period that marked a decisive journey in the country’s history. This era commenced with the inclusion of the concept of ‘dignity’ in the motto of the republic, along with ‘freedom, justice and order’.
The second chapter (of 2014 constitution), entitled ‘Rights and Freedoms’ was serves as a bird that landed on the roof of the constitution, singing without fear of the nets of repression, nevertheless, it failed to implement Tunisian people’s hopes on the ground, especially in light of the political tensions, economic and social challenges. Kais Saied, the president who was elected on the basis of the 2014 constitution, took advantage of this (given situation) to announce a series of exceptional measures and procedures that left a catastrophic impact on state institutions and structures and constituted a decisive turning point in the nascent democratic process.
These measures by the president have resulted in a new reality: What began as a “rescue” has turned into a dark basement whose features were marked by the expanding his powers, especially after the issuance of Order No. 117 of 2021, which granted him the authority to rule by decree without constitutional oversight, in addition to undermining the role of constitutional institutions by dissolving the Supreme Judicial Council and replacing it with an appointed council, dismissing a number of judges without trial and disrupting the work of parliament, which was initially suspended and its members’ immunity was lifted (revoked) and then finally dissolved. This process culminated in the enactment of a new constitution on 25 July 2022, which, while being presented as a course correction, nevertheless establishes a political system that concentrates the power in the executive branch, which is a retreat from the gains of 2011 revolution.
The Legislative Context of this Decree: Between Legality of a Law and Legitimisation of Repression
Despite the attempts to market Presidential Decree No. 54 of 2022 dated 13 September 2022 on combating crimes pertaining to information and communication systems in Tunisia, as a tool aimed at establishing a safe digital environment by updating legislative mechanisms to cope with growing cyber risks, and balancing between enhancing cybersecurity and protecting rights and freedoms by filling legislative gaps in the Tunisian legal system ( such as the 2004 Electronic Transactions Law and the 2016 Personal Data Law) which are no longer sufficient to face the growing complexities of cybercrime and the increasing cases of privacy violations and cyber extortion that threaten both national institutions and individuals, or to fulfil international obligations, especially after Tunisia ratification of the Budapest Convention on Cybercrime in 2004.
The decree was a response to an internal political and security context overshadowed by the events following 25 July 2021, which called for strengthening the state’s control over the digital space under the pretext of combating fake news and protecting national security. This sparked a wide debate/ public outcry over its constitutional legitimacy, particularly as some of its provisions have been exploited to restrict freedom of expression or prosecute civil society activists and those engaged in the political sphere. Thus, the biggest challenge to this provision remains to achieve a balance between the need to protect the digital space and ensure that it does not slip into becoming a tool of censorship or repression. The state, through its agencies and laws, has the right to protect its citizens from crimes related to the digital realm, but this should not become a pretext for silencing voices, because the law is not just text, but the conscience of justice. In the absence of this conscience, legislation converts into instruments of repression and authoritarianism, which exemplifies the crisis of legitimacy in presidential regimes that hide behind the judiciary and legislation to entrench their power. Legislation without democratic guarantees turns into a tool of domination, transforming the right into an authoritarian privilege, and the citizen into a target under surveillance, as happened with the dean of Tunisian veterinarians (Ahmed Rajab) when he gave a press interview published in a paper newspaper about the issue of health insurance and then found himself subject to judicial prosecution for the meaning of the decree in a case filed against him by the Minister of Agriculture.
In the abovementioned context, Decree 54 embodies a profound paradox related to the contradiction between legal legitimacy and democratic legacy, which is reflected in the obvious discord between the legitimacy of the text itself as a legal document issued by the authority and binding according to legal frameworks, and the legitimacy of the popular will represented by democratic legitimacy, which requires that laws reflect the will of citizens and being a result of a public consensus within society that is adopted through democratic mechanisms, such as elections or public discourse.
First of all, it was issued pursuant to Presidential Decree No. 117 of 22nd September 2021, which grants the President the power to regulate by exceptional decrees. However, its issuance in the period between the dissolution of the Legislative Council elected on the basis of the 2014 Constitution and the formation of the new Council in accordance with the 2022 Constitution emptied it of its constitutional content, as it turned from a temporary exceptional measure into a method of governance without any actual legislative supervision. Although this text appears to be formally legal in terms of complying with the formal constitutional procedures, it contradicts the ‘spirit of the Constitution’, which is based on the principle of the separation and balance of powers, since the power to legislate should be in the hands of Parliament, which is by definition the institution/body that represents people and expresses their will.
Accordingly, instead of being a means of regulating the digital space in a way that preserves the balance between freedom and responsibility, this decree has instead become a tool in the hands of the executive authority to control digital content, This is a glaring example of how laws can be used to ensure the permanency of the executive authority and strengthen its powers at the expense of elected institutions. This leads to the transformation of the state into a mono-decision entity, away from any form of institutional control/supervision or political participation, raising serious concerns about its potential use as a means of silencing dissidents and prosecuting journalists on the basis of social media posts and comments criticizing the president or the army, then the penalty reduced later on.
International paradox: between Tunisia’s obligations and the reality of rights
Since its accession to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), Tunisia has been obliged to respect freedom of expression according to criteria that maintain a balance between individual rights and the public interest. Under Article 19 of the ICCPR, any restriction of this freedom must be based on a precise legal provision to prevent arbitrary interpretations, justified by the need to protect the security or public order of society, and proportionate to the size of the alleged threat without turning it into a gagging tool. Despite the constitutional adoption of the principles of necessity and proportionality to regulate the limits of restricting freedoms (whether through Article 49 of the 2014 Constitution or Article 55 of the 2022 Constitution), the Tunisian reality after the issuance of Decree 54 reveals a glaring contradiction between international human rights discourse and local practice, as instead of establishing the principles of transparency and accountability, vague concepts such as public security or the rights of others have become like masks that hide an ugly face of repression, where criticism is prosecuted as a crime and silence is rewarded as a virtue, in a transformation that reproduces the logic of authoritarian regimes that reduce law to the service of power, not the protection of freedoms. In this way, international commitment turns into a dead letter. At the same time, democracy is reduced to a facade that hides modern mechanisms of repression, disguised as legal protection to confiscate the right to free speech and unjustly imprison people only because they dared to say: “The king is naked!” . In this context, the repressive practices adopted by the Tunisian government through Decree 54 have been internationally criticized and threaten to lose Tunisia’s status as a democratic model in the region, which could lead to serious economic and political consequences, including international support.
Decree No. 54 not only breaches international law but also undermines the legitimacy of the 2011 revolution itself. How can a revolution that called for ‘dignity’ be transformed into a regime that hates its citizens in their silence?
It may be a temporary triumph of fear, but history has taught and demonstrated to us that free speech is like a river that may be blocked, but will one day overflow its banks, carrying with it the false narratives of power to the dustbin of history.
How does Decree 54 violate those principles?
President Kais Saeed’s phrase “freedom does not mean chaos and conspiracy against the internal and external security of the state” came in a public speech in September 2022, in conjunction with the issuance of Decree No. 54, turned into a slogan repeated by the authority in its endeavor to create an internal enemy to be blamed for its failures in the midst of worsening economic and political crises. In this complex game of authoritarianism, words have turned into swords aimed at the necks of those who are dissenting. The authority has formed a double charm with the concept of chaos: it reduces it to a loose mould that swallows any critical voice and then transforms it into a scarecrow that it waves in the face of society. Freedom of expression, which is supposed to be the new blood in the arteries of democracy, is labelled as sabotage, conspiracy, and threatening national security. Not only does the authority redefine chaos, but it also reshapes the collective consciousness around it; what is presented on a social or media platform as an analysis of economic mismanagement or exposing suspicions of corruption is reduced to security reports under the title of ‘threatening public security’. One example on that when the investigative office brought 10 charges of using information and communication systems to spread false news and attribute untrue matters with the aim of harming public security, defaming and inciting others, the target of which was a public official in accordance with Article 24 of Decree No. 54, against journalist and lawyer ‘Sonia Dahmeni’.
This semantic displacement is not innocent; rather, it is an attempt to change the language, turning it into a virtual prison by linking freedom to chaos. Turning it into a virtual prison by linking freedom to chaos. The word chaos is shifting from a philosophical concept associated with the absence of a system, to a weapon to silence a journalist who writes about rising prices, or a lawyer who demands to hold the corrupt accountable. Thus, the security discourse in Tunisia aimed at containing chaos is no longer just a means of ensuring societal stability, but has instead become a political tool used to reshape the public scene to serve the interests of the current authority, which does not explicitly reject freedoms, but rather fabricates imaginary enemies to justify its violation, as if to say: “We are defending you even from yourselves!”, then it would be easy to demonise every critical or oppositional expression by describing it as a threat to the stability of the state and national unity, not to mention distorting the opposition, accusing it of obstructing the state’s efforts or serving foreign agendas, without providing any concrete evidence for these serious allegations.
The inevitable outcome of this discourse is not merely arrests or trials, but the legitimization of fear in the collective unconscious; a journalist will hesitate before publishing an investigative report, and an intellectual who used to criticize policies will prefer silence out of fear of being accused of fueling chaos. Here, the authority succeeds in transforming society from a watchdog to a hostage by destroying trust in the value of the word itself and justifying it by saying that some freedoms must be sacrificed to save the country from collapsing. However, history has shown that homelands are not built on prison walls or protected by laws that criminalize opinion. Homelands are built with the freedom of their citizens, not their fear, as the Tunisian thinker Ibn Khaldun said: “Injustice is the harbinger of the ruin of civilization.” The most challenging issue now is the collapse of the social contract between the people and the state, and the disintegration of the social contract between the people and the state.
In this context, we believe that the key question revolves around how institutions that are supposed to protect freedoms have turned into tools to suppress them. How was the authority able to penetrate the digital space that was considered a haven of freedom to impose comprehensive censorship? The answer lies in dissecting the mechanisms of implementing Decree 54, which reveals that repression no longer needs torture chambers, but rather computer screens and loose/ elastic legal provisions that turn the truth into a crime and the citizen into a virtual prisoner.
Overbroad Legislation Turns Opinion into a Crime
Chapter 24 of Decree 54 is one of the most controversial chapters, due to the direct threat it carries to freedom of expression and media, as it uses a loose drafting that cause many legal problems, the absence of accurate definitions of terms such as ‘false news’, ‘false documents’, or ‘harm to public security’ opens the way to extensive interpretations.
I: The problematic definition of “fake news”
In the absence of a specific and objective legal criterion, the definition of “fake news” remains subject to the discretion of the executive authority, raising questions about whether this encompasses news that is later found to be inaccurate or extends to personal interpretations and analyses. Moreover, who holds the authority to determine this, especially when the entities that establish the validity of the news are the same ones facing criticism? Who guarantees that journalistic investigations into corruption or critiques of public policies will not be deemed false news and subjected to severe penalties? For example, numerous cases filed under this section have targeted journalists and activists. Tunisian lawyer and media personality Sania Dahmeni was prosecuted multiple times for her television statements related to news analysis and criticism of public policies, particularly regarding sub-Saharan migration issues, as well as her views on the Tunisian prison system and its shortcomings.
This terminological ambiguity makes it easy to exploit the text and interpret it in multiple ways, which allows it to be utilized against journalists, activists and bloggers, especially those who criticise public policies or expose abuses of power, thereby encouraging a climate of self-censorship and limiting freedom of the press and expression in the digital space.
II: Vague Concepts Utilized as a Pretext for Gagging Voices
Article 24 also includes penalties related to the use of personal data to damage the reputation of individuals, which is an essential principle for protecting privacy, but can also serve as a tool to prevent investigative journalism from publishing information about public figures. The term “infringement of the rights of others” or “harm to public security” without specifying the exact meaning reinforces concerns about its selective application. The failure to clarify what ‘rights of others’ are to be protected raises questions about whether it includes only the right to protect reputation from defamation or extends to criticism of public figures. Journalists who expose suspected illicit enrichment or conflicts of interest, which require the publication of the property of government officials or public servants, may find themselves accused of defamation. However, the role of the press in democratic societies is to hold officials accountable and enable citizens to access information freely and in a transparent and open manner. As for public order, it is a term often used in repressive laws as a pretext to suppress protests and restrict dissent. The absence of clear criteria to define the scope of application of the decree allows these penalties to be used selectively, as they can be strictly applied to dissidents. At the same time, misleading news that serves the authority is tolerated. This is reminiscent of novelist George Orwell’s quote: “All are equal, but some are more equal than others.”
This decree, despite its claims of neutrality and inclusiveness, serves as an authority that shields itself against criticism and accountability, while criminalizing anyone who dares to expose or criticize its transgressions.
As we witnessed, the general secretary of the Tunisian General Labour Union, Wajieh Zaidi, was prosecuted by the Ministry of Transport for comments he made on Radio DiwanFM in January 2023, where he criticized the deteriorating conditions of Tunis Transport’s equipment and the overall malperformance or incompetence of the Ministry of Transport.
As for incitement to violence and hate speech, while they are penalized offences, the problem lies in the lack of a precise definition of what constitutes the difference between ‘direct incitement of violence’ and ‘sharp and heated expression of opinion’. Given this ambiguity, the law could be exploited to penalize critical speech against the government or public figures, even if there is no explicit call for violence, contradicting democratic principles that protect freedom of expression as long as it does not directly lead to acts of violence.
Procedural Flexibility: Exploiting Oversight to Stifle Political Dissent.
Decree 54 places severe constraints on digital privacy, in contradiction to international standards, especially the principles of the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) adopted in the European Union, which imposes serious restrictions on the collection of personal data. For example, Chapter 6 obliges telecommunications service providers to store users’ data for at least two years, including identity information, call history, and geolocation. This is a form of surveillance that allows the collection of sensitive information about individuals without adequate supervision of this process, which may lead to its potential misuse for political or repressive purposes in the absence of data storage safeguards to protect individual rights. As for Article 10, it grants the authorities the power to intercept and eavesdrop on communications based on a decision by the public prosecutor or the investigative judge. Although the fight against cybercrime justifies this measure, the lack of transparent and objective regulations makes it a double-edged sword. From a legal perspective, eavesdropping is supposed to be an exceptional means to be used only in specific cases related to serious offences, but the broad wording of Article 10 allows it to be used more broadly, potentially targeting political opponents, journalists, and even ordinary citizens who express their opinions online. Perhaps the most prominent example of such practices is the conviction of journalist Khalifa Al-Qasimi, who was initially sentenced to one year in prison for refusing to reveal his sources, and subsequently extended to five years on appeal on charges of “disclosing information”.
It is evident that these two chapters have the potential to act as a dangerous instrument that undermines the right to privacy and limits individuals’ freedom of expression without the prospect of prosecution. This has the effect of engendering an environment of self-censorship, where any dissenting opinion becomes susceptible to prosecution and opens the door to the arbitrary use of personal data to implicate opponents in fabricated cases. This method is reminiscent of the practices of authoritarian regimes that employ technology to dominate the public sphere.
Disproportionate Penalties: Retaliation Disguised as Law
A striking paradox characterizes article 24 of this decree. Indeed, while the perpetrator of the crime of theft or embezzlement is subject to a prison sentence of one to five years and a fine of 120 dinars to 1,200 Tunisian dinars (approximately $385 USD) (based on Article 263 of the Criminal Code), an activist who publishes a post on Facebook may face five years in prison and a fine of 50,000 Tunisian dinars (approximately $16,000 USD). The paradoxical situation is that an individual who usurps another’s livelihood is subjected to the same legal sanction as an individual who, through the medium of words, robs another of their silence.
The imposition of severe penalties can be interpreted as indicative of a strict punitive approach that transcends the principle of proportionality between crime and punishment, as in democratic systems, moderate fines or corrective measures are usually imposed against the dissemination of fake news, especially when it does not cause serious damage. This legal escalation is nothing other than a reproduction of an authoritarian approach with new tools, where the law is not used to achieve justice but as an instrument of intimidation and revenge, especially among journalists and activists who may refrain from covering particular issues/ and news stories out of fear of prosecution. This leads to the erosion of the space for criticism and accountability, undermining the essential role of the media in democratic societies, which has become a reality in an absent media scene dominated by “interpreters” and regime loyalists, excluding all opposition and critical voices, in an almost total absence of the political programmes that we knew during the so-called “Black Decade”.
More seriously, Article 24 toughens the penalties when the target is a public official, thereby establishing excessive protection for officials at the expense of the principle of accountability. The case by Minister of Justice Leila Jaffal in 2023 against the former Secretary General of the Democratic Current Party, Ghazi Chaouachi, is one of the most striking examples, as she accused him of “spreading false news with the purpose of harming public security through audiovisual media” and “attributing false matters to a public official” based on an interviews he gave in 2022 in expressing his stance on the violations committed by the Ministry of Justice and considered the cases raised against opposition figures and dismissed judges to be fabricated. This legal distinction reflects excessive protection for the ruling elite. At a moment when we talk about concepts such as citizen-journalist and the need to break with political influence and the power of corruption, Decree 54 penalizes citizens who publish information about the corruption of an official or public servant with harsher penalties than those that the official or servant himself would face if he were found guilty. The irony is that the regime itself raises the slogan of fighting corruption but detain anyone who exposes corruption in Chapter 24 cell, as if to say, “Corruption is our truth, and anyone who objects to it is a traitor to his country!”
Repression Trilogy: One Face of Tyranny
What is particularly dangerous about Decree 54 is not only its violation of the constitution and international conventions and its threat to the physical safety of dissidents, but its capacity to perpetuate tyranny through legal mechanisms that convert the state into an entity that monitors, punishes, and stifles dissenting voices.
What is particularly dangerous about Decree 54 is not only its violation of the constitution and international conventions and its threat to the physical safety of dissidents, but its capacity to perpetuate tyranny through legal mechanisms that convert the state into an entity that monitors, punishes, and stifles dissenting voices.
Through loose legal tools, this decree redefines the relationship between authority and society, where digital security no longer a tool for protecting citizens, but instead a means to tighten the grip of ‘inquisition courts’ that back the security discourse of the authority in trading freedom for security and justifying every violation for the need to maintain public security and prevent chaos, but the legislator fails to realize that chaos is not in a protest demanding bread, but in a law that prevents hungry people from screaming, not in criticism that exposes corruption, but in a media that fools the audience.
Security discourse in this sense is chaos itself, because it undermines the fundamental principles on which the modern state is based: Transparency, accountability, and dialogue. The victims of the decree have become dozens, then hundreds, and no one has been spared. Even digital platforms, which once were considered a space for liberation, have become reminiscent of virtual thugs who beat pens instead of bodies.
The Judiciary: Partner in Oppression or Victim of Polarization?
Since the revolution of 17 December to 14 January 2011, the Tunisian judiciary has been a key pillar of the nascent/ emerging democratic transition, shifting it from a mere tool in the hands of the former regime to a guardian of the constitution and a guarantor of citizens’ rights. However, with the wave of exceptional measures that began with the placing of 45 judges under house arrest without prior warning or authorisation from the High Judicial Council (HJC) which is the constitutional body responsible for nominating and appointing judges and ensuring their independence. Then the dissolution of the HJC itself, pursuant to Decree No. 11 of 2022, on the pretext of corruption in it and its lack of commitment to its obligations (and duties) , then the issuance of the 2022 Constitution, which divided the judicial function into three councils: legal, administrative, and financial. This transformed the judiciary from an ‘authority’ to a ‘profession’, in addition to fragmenting the unitary nature of the HJC and taking the controls related to its composition and competencies out of the constitutional sphere and into the field of laws, without guaranteeing its independence as a structure that preserves the unity of the judiciary. Consequently, the new council (the Temporary High Judicial Council (THJC) consisted of direct and retired judges, who are assigned according to seniority by free choice by the president and by his order and sworn before him. Moreover, one of the tasks of the THJC is to submit a report every three months to the President of the Republic on the progress of its work. The president also has the right to object to the nomination, promotion, or transfer of any judge based on a reasoned report. He also intervenes in disciplinary proceedings route by requesting the dismissal of any judge who breaches his professional duties, which would make the councils lose their independence and impartiality and make them a tool in the hands of the executive function that dominates appointments and dismissals without the council’s oversight role over them.
This “cleansing” path was reinforced by arbitrary dismissals and exemptions of at least 57 judges during the months of February to December 2023, through a presidential decree that did not define specific criteria or provide concrete evidence of the charges brought against them. This decision was reversed in favor of 49 judges by the Administrative Court on 10 August 2022, but it has not yet been implemented, as the government and Justice Minister “Leila Djeffal” have refused to reinstate the judges to their posts. We have also witnessed ‘morality trials’ during official appointments of the President of the Republic against female judges, defaming their honor in a scene that reflects the executive authority’s attempt to humiliate judges and control one of the most important pillars of the state.
Such interventions were not only confined to direct dismissals, but also extended to psychological pressure and administrative harassments, prompting many judges to hesitate to issue judgements exonerating journalists and activists out of fear of job retaliation or stigmatization, especially after the President of the Republic’s statement that “anyone who acquits them is an accomplice. Many criminal cases against judges, such as the judge at the Court of Cassation, Hamadi Rahmani, who was charged under Article 67 of the Criminal Code related to committing an atrocious act against the President due to a Facebook post accusing Kais Saeed of committing a “coup” on 25 July 2021, thus turning judges who refused to obey the President’s measures into direct targets of the “judicial cleansing” policy in the framework of a systematic process to turn the judiciary into a compliant tool.
Judges are now challenged to make critical choices: whether to apply laws that are used as a tool of intimidation or risk their positions and professional careers. As a consequence, the judiciary has become hostage to a dangerous political polarization that threatens not only its impartiality/ integrity, but also citizens’ trust in the justice of institutions. The judiciary is witnessing selective prosecutions, with cases against opponents moving forward at rapid speed, while cases related to loyalists or security violations are left without serious follow-up. This paradox reflects the exploitation of the judiciary as a tool to settle political scores, instead of being an independent authority that achieves justice, as we witnessed harsh judgements against every dissenting voice, such as the prosecution of journalists Murad Al- Zughaidi and Burhan Bseis on the basis of Article 24 of Decree No. 54 and sentencing each of them to one year in prison. The sentence was reduced on appeal to eight months’ imprisonment.
In such an atmosphere, the courts lose credibility, and the concept of the ‘rule of law’ becomes a mere cover to formalize and legitimize repressive practices, especially in the absence of the Constitutional Court, the main guarantor of monitoring laws and ensuring that they do not conflict with fundamental rights. This absence has granted the executive authority the ultimate power to impose legislation without real judicial oversight.
Moreover, while the politicized judiciary turns the law into a tool to legitimize violations through arbitrary interpretations of broad terms, the institutionalized media plays the role of whitewashing the image of the authority and defaming its opponents, turning facts into “rumors” and critical voices into “enemies of the nation”. This mechanism is not just an attack on freedom of expression, but a systematic dismantlement of the foundations of democracy, turning Tunisia into an arena of “sacred fear” where authority is elevated to the status of taboo, while the truth is buried under a pile of accusations.
The Policy of Generalising Criminality and Overcrowding of Prisons
Law student and blogger ‘Ahmed Bahaa Hamada’, journalist ‘Khalifa Al Qassemi’, lawyer ‘Ghazi Chaouachi’, journalist ‘Ziad Al Hani’, lawyer ‘Ayachi Hammami’, journalist and lawyer ‘Sania Dahmani’, lawyer ‘Islam Hamza’, journalist ‘Mounia Arfaoui’, politician ‘Chaima Issa’, retired ‘Souleyman Rouissi’, journalist Nizar Bahloul, politician Mariam Sassi, veterinarian ‘Ahmed Ragab’. These are names among several, but the pattern is the same: they are all under repression.
The prosecution of these figures is not just an isolated incident but rather a recurring and ongoing scene in the repression theatre that the authorities are directing against every free voice that tries to raise the torch of truth, while refusing to be a mirror for the people, preferring to smash every other mirror that reflects its own shortcomings. The expansion of the repression shows that the goal of the state is not to “combat fake news”, but to silence the entire society and empty the revolution of its content by reproducing fear as a mechanism of governance.
In the context of this scene, critical fundamental questions arise: What kind of justice criminalizes criticism and turns the judiciary into a jailer? What legitimacy can be boasted by an authority that reproduces the old tools of repression with new mechanisms? The arrests under Decree 54 are not only a violation of freedoms, but also a warning alarm.
The National Syndicate of Tunisian Journalists confirms that the number of cases filed against journalists for their work has reached more than 39 cases. The first case dates back to November 2023, when the journalist and commentator ‘Sonia Dahmeni’ criticized on a radio programme the conditions inside prisons, noting that prisoners were denied the right to medical treatment, some families were prevented from exercising their right to visit, and drinking water was scarce.
Ultimately, Justice Minister “Leila Jaffal” initiated a criminal prosecution against her for these criticisms on charges of spreading false news. Dahmeni was also sentenced to eight months in prison for her criticism (while taking part in demonstrations) of the official security and political handling of the issue of sub-Saharan migrants as she stated that Tunisia is not a pleasant place to live, in addition to being sentenced at first instance and on appeal to two years in prison for a media statement she made in relation to the issue of African migrants (and asylum seekers) in Tunisia, a verdict that was overturned by Criminal Chamber number 29 at the Court of Cassation on 03 February 2025, which considered that Decree No. 54 of 2022 constitutes a restriction on freedom and should not be expanded in its application. The court explained that the decree was intended to fill a legislative vacuum in the tracking of offences related to information and communication systems, the collection of electronic evidence, and the promotion of international cooperation in this field. It also emphasized the need for authorities to abide by constitutional guarantees and international conventions on human rights and the protection of personal data.
