http://www.canada.com/Afghan+media+struggles+independence/1377916/story.html
Afghan media struggles for independence. By Archie McLean, Canwest News ServiceMarch 11, 2009 KABUL - Elisha Cuthbert's neckline is far too low. So Amir Tawakoli, an editor at Tolo TV - Afghanistan's most popular station - clicks and drags a pixelated box over the Canadian starlet, obscuring the scandalous skin up to her neck. Afghans love American action shows such as 24, in which Cuthbert appeared in earlier seasons, as well as Indian and Korean soap operas. But in this conservative Muslim country, the government and many of its citizens do not love seeing low necklines, exposed shoulders or knees, references to religions other than Islam or public displays of affection. Tawakoli blurs those out, too. Since the fall of the Taliban in 2001, media have flourished here, and continue to operate in a partially free environment. But in recent years, there has been something of a retrenchment of those rights as the government has sought to control information in the face of a rising insurgency. Jahid Mohseni and his three siblings moved back to Afghanistan from Australia in 2002 to start a radio station, Arman FM, which means ``hope'' in Dari. The family had been living in exile since the late 1970s and saw an investment opportunity in their home country. Arman was the country's first-ever private broadcaster. As soon as it went on air, it sparked condemnation by having women talking with men in ordinary language. But it was wildly popular and soon other stations began copying their music format, which is now common in Kabul. ``We were leading the way,'' says Mohseni, the CEO of Moby Group, which owns Tolo and Arman. ``We caught the flak . . . but all the ones who came after us never heard a peep.'' A similar pattern emerged when they started Tolo (sunrise or dawn) in 2004. Mohseni says they are constantly walking the line between developing new and interesting programming without alienating their viewers. Afghanistan is still largely a one-TV household nation, so mom, dad and the kids all crowd around the single set, likely during the few hours in the evening when they have power. ``You have to have the entire family in mind whenever you create a program. You have to be acceptable, otherwise you won't have viewers.'' Nearly three-quarters of the Afghan population is illiterate, so television and radio have a large effect on popular culture. According to the Asia Foundation, roughly 83 per cent of urban Afghans have televisions and about the same amount have radios. Because of its popularity, Tolo shapes the culture much more than most Western stations. Mohseni takes great pride in helping develop a local music scene as well as shows such as Afghan Star - an American Idol knock-off - and a popular political satire show. But that kind of influence has meant they have fought censorship battles at every turn. Some of the criticism comes from cultural elites, who deem the programming unsophisticated. But the loudest criticism comes from religious conservatives who say it is un-Islamic and corrupting Afghan culture. A year ago, the government's information minister banned five Indian soap operas. Most other stations in the capital complied with the order, but Tolo still airs the shows and is currently fighting in court to keep broadcasting them. Tolo has also had news reporters jailed. Just five years ago, Reporters Without Borders ranked Afghanistan the 97th best country in the world for media freedom. Since then, its ranking has fallen every year and now ranks near the bottom, at 156th. With all the hassles, Mohseni is often asked if he would invest here again. ``Honestly, the answer is no,'' he said. ``There's just too much uncertainty, too much risk - policy is based more on emotion than reason. You basically have to fight every day.'' Still, Mohseni says he is here to stay. Helping stabilize the country and grow its economy is going to take a while and he has invested too much time and energy in the company to quit now. ``This is my country, too, and I'll be damned if I'm going to get run out of town by a few politicians,'' he says. Tawakoli is part of a team of editors working to cover up the sorts of things that would give his boss trouble. On the screen in front of him, a husband and wife move toward each other and threaten to embrace. He explains the rough rules for censoring such scenes - kisses on the lips are always cut. Married couples may embrace each other, but not too passionately. Fathers and daughters are usually OK. He closes a window on his computer to reveal a desktop picture of a sultry woman smoking a cigarette. She has at least two buttons of her shirt undone - not acceptable for TV. ``I would prefer not to cover,'' Tawakoli says, glancing at the monitor still showing Cuthbert. ``But it's my job.'' Edmonton Journal
