作者： admin

Freedom of expression sounds like a simple concept—until someone utters a view we fundamentally disagree with, one that irritates and angers us. That is exactly the moment when the true meaning of this fundamental right begins to take shape. This week, at the invitation of the Surinamese Association of Journalists, two Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) experts are visiting the South American nation: Pedro Vaca Villarreal, IACHR Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression, and Daniel Corredor Llorente, human rights specialist with the Office of the Special Rapporteur. Over the course of their visit, the pair will hold discussions with journalists, university students, human rights organizations and other civil society groups on the current state of free speech in Suriname. These talks form part of a broader regional process to develop hemisphere-wide free speech guidelines that reflect the perspectives and needs of diverse stakeholder groups across the Americas.

Suriname is a small but exceptionally pluralistic society, home to a tapestry of overlapping ethnic communities, religious beliefs, languages, political ideologies and cultural traditions. This diversity is one of the nation’s greatest strengths, but it also poses a core democratic challenge: can we truly accept that people from other groups hold different perspectives on society? Today, a critical comment about a politician is quickly interpreted as an attack on their entire party or voter base. Criticism of an individual from a specific community is often extrapolated to condemnation of the whole group. Dissenting voices are frequently labeled along political, ethnic or other identity lines within minutes of speaking out. In these cases, free speech stops being about what a person says—and becomes entirely about who they are, or what group we assume they belong to.

The rise of social media has only complicated this landscape. Never before have ordinary citizens had so many opportunities to share their views instantly with thousands of people across the globe. But this same technology has also made intimidation, personal harassment, disinformation and digital threats far easier to carry out. This reality makes clear that freedom of expression does not mean all speech is permissible. Threats and incitement to violence contribute nothing to constructive public debate, and legal limits can rightly be placed on expression that harms the rights and safety of others. At the same time, we must be cautious about framing legitimate dissent as insult, disrespect or inappropriate criticism as a tactic to silence opposing views.

In recent years, Suriname has seen multiple cases of individuals being arrested and temporarily detained by law enforcement over statements made, particularly on social media platforms. It is true that freedom of expression can never act as a free pass for criminal conduct. When someone crosses the boundaries of what is legally permitted, action must be taken to hold them accountable. But the key question remains: who ultimately gets to define where those boundaries lie?

The answer is not political leaders, nor does the Public Prosecution Service hold final authority over whether a citizen’s statement constitutes a criminal offense. Ultimately, it is an independent judiciary that must rule on this question, grounded in national law, the constitution, and the international human rights obligations Suriname has committed to uphold. When a person is arrested for their words, held in custody for days, and then released without a court ever ruling that their expression was criminal, the harm extends far beyond the individual affected. The implicit message sent to the public is clear: watch what you say, because you can be detained for days even without a conviction. This creates a chilling effect that pushes citizens to self-censor, not because a court has ruled their criticism illegal, but out of fear of what could happen to them if they speak out. When this becomes normalized, it is not just one individual’s freedom that is undermined—it shrinks the entire space for public debate in a democracy.

This reality makes a compelling case for critical review of the provisions in Suriname’s Criminal Code widely referred to as “gag laws”. These statutes date back to the colonial era, when protecting the authority of ruling powers was prioritized over citizens’ right to sharply criticize that authority. The colonial origin of these laws is not, on its own, reason enough to scrap them. The decisive factor is that many of these provisions are no longer compatible with the freedom of expression protected by Suriname’s constitution and modern international and Inter-American human rights standards. When outdated criminal provisions can be used to deprive citizens of their liberty for critical or inconvenient speech, even when no judicial conviction follows, lawmakers must ask whether these provisions still have any place in a modern democracy.

These so-called gag laws deserve a thorough overhaul. Any provisions that cannot be aligned with contemporary human rights standards should be removed from the Criminal Code entirely. A democracy does not protect its authority by frightening citizens into silence. It protects itself by giving citizens space to criticize power, and by letting independent judges oversee the boundaries of criminal conduct.

A democratic society cannot function when only agreeable opinions are granted protection. In fact, opinions that nearly everyone agrees with hardly need this protection at all. The fundamental right to free speech is only truly tested when someone says something that makes the majority ask: how could anyone say that?

Protecting freedom of expression requires more than just updated legislation. It requires a cultural shift: a culture where a minister can face sharp criticism without the critic being labeled an enemy of the state. Where a journalist can ask tough questions without their political views immediately becoming the focus of discussion. Where citizens can criticize both the ruling government and the opposition. Where a person of faith can defend their beliefs, and others have the right to question those beliefs. Where young people can challenge long-held older perspectives, and minorities do not need majority approval to have their voices heard.

Building public awareness of these principles is therefore essential. The Inter-American approach to freedom of expression goes far beyond just guaranteeing the right to speak. It also recognizes that people must be able to seek, receive and disseminate information freely. Journalists must be able to carry out their work independently. Citizens must have access to the information they need to hold power to account and make informed choices about their society.

This last component is often underestimated. A citizen may have full formal freedom of expression on paper, but that right is significantly diminished in practice if government information remains inaccessible, critical journalists are intimidated, or people self-censor out of fear of repercussions. That is why press freedom, access to public information and freedom of expression are inseparable. This is not because journalists are special citizens, but because journalism is one of the core ways societies collect the information that allows ordinary people to form their own independent judgments.

The example of veteran Caribbean journalist Rickey Singh, whose legacy is being highlighted during the IACHR experts’ visit, perfectly illustrates this principle. Singh’s career was defined by independence, rigorous preparation, courage, and a commitment to holding political power to account through critical reporting. His work makes clear that freedom of expression is not only about the right to publish. It is also about the responsibility to inform society fairly and force power to answer for its actions.

Ultimately, a commitment to free speech starts not with journalists, governments, courts or international organizations—it starts with each of us. It starts with our willingness to let others speak. It depends on our ability to distinguish between criticism and enmity. It requires the discipline to counter an opposing argument with another argument, rather than with insults, threats or identity labeling. For a country as diverse as Suriname, this distinction is essential. We do not have to agree with one another—that is never the goal of a democratic society. What we must learn to do is fundamentally disagree with each other, without denying one another the right to be part of the conversation.

Suriname’s National Assembly is set to debate a transformative overhaul of the country’s freedom of information regime, after a unified amendment to the draft Open Government Act (Wet Openbaarheid van Bestuur, WOB) was submitted this week. The proposal, which reverses decades of default secrecy in public administration, represents a major push for greater government accountability demanded by journalists and civil society groups for years.

The road to this unified bill began with two separate private member’s bills, tabled independently by Ebu Jones of the National Democratic Party (NDP) and Asis Gajadien of the Progressive People’s Party (VHP). Following input from civil society organizations, the two lawmakers agreed to merge their proposals into a single unified amendment, a compromise championed by NDP lawmaker Rossellie Cotino, who leads the committee of rapporteurs for the legislation.

At the core of the reform is a radical paradigm shift: the bill enshrines open government as the default rule, with secrecy only permitted in narrow, exceptional cases. The explanatory memorandum explicitly notes that existing legislation no longer meets the standards of a modern democratic constitutional state, nor does it accommodate the ongoing digitalization of public administration.

Article 4 of the draft codifies a universal right to access government information, eliminating outdated requirements that requesters demonstrate a specific legal or personal interest in the information they seek, or explain their reason for requesting it. All requests must be processed without discrimination based on nationality, residence, occupation, political belief, or social status. Critically, the bill stipulates that in any case of doubt over disclosure, the public interest in openness will prevail.

One of the most impactful changes is the introduction of a mandatory active disclosure obligation. All public administrative bodies are required to proactively publish a wide range of documents that affect public policy, carry significant social importance, or are necessary for independent public oversight of government. The list of mandatory proactively disclosed documents is extensive, including government budgets, annual financial statements, audit reports, subsidy allocations, public tender documents, award decisions, government contracts and contract amendments, concessions, public-private partnership agreements, state guarantees, foreign and multilateral loans, external advisory reports, research findings, policy impact assessments, information on state-owned enterprise holdings and dividend payments, and data on environmental quality including climate, water, and air metrics.

This reform is expected to reshape investigative journalism and public oversight of public spending. Currently, journalists, civil society groups, and ordinary citizens must submit individual requests for most of this information to separate ministries and agencies; if the law is implemented, these documents will be available as a matter of routine.

The bill also strengthens procedural rules for individual information requests. Requests may be submitted in writing, electronically, orally, or through a centralized digital portal. Receipt of a request must be confirmed within five working days, and a final decision must be issued within 14 days of receipt, with a single maximum extension of 14 days allowed only for unusually large or complex requests. For urgent requests tied to major public interest matters, a decision must be issued within five working days wherever possible.

Large requests cannot be automatically rejected under the new rules. Public bodies must enter into consultation with the requester, and with the requester’s consent, may narrow the scope of the request or process it in phases. If only a small portion of a document falls under an exception to disclosure, the entire document cannot be withheld: only the protected section may be redacted, with the remainder released. The bill also requires agencies to consider anonymization of protected data as an alternative to full denial of access.

To ensure compliance, the legislation establishes the independent Suriname Open Government Commission, a legal entity that operates free from interference by the executive and other public bodies. The commission’s core mandate includes overseeing compliance with the law, investigating public complaints, facilitating mediation between requesters and agencies, issuing guidance on transparency practices, and improving government information management.

The commission is granted robust enforcement powers: it can compel the production of documents and information (even confidential records), summon witnesses for questioning, access government facilities and inspect information management systems, issue binding instructions and remedial measures, and ultimately impose coercive daily fines for non-compliance.

The five commission members are appointed by the president, but are nominated by the National Assembly, requiring a two-thirds majority vote of all sitting assembly members to confirm a nomination. The selection process is required to be fully public, with candidates evaluated on the basis of professional expertise, independence, integrity, and public trust.

The bill also expands legal recourse for requesters. Appeals against disclosure decisions or administrative inaction may be filed within 30 days, and requesters may also file complaints with the Open Government Commission over denial of access, partial disclosure, or delayed decisions. Following the internal appeal process or a binding ruling from the commission, requesters may bring their case to the competent court. In urgent cases, courts may grant interim relief and order full or partial disclosure immediately.

Notably, the bill shifts the burden of proof for non-disclosure onto the public body. When an agency denies access, it must demonstrate that a valid exception applies, that disclosure would cause specific concrete harm, that the public interest in secrecy outweighs the public interest in openness, and that partial disclosure is not feasible.

The legislation includes meaningful enforcement mechanisms to ensure compliance. For violations, the Open Government Commission can set a remediation deadline, issue binding instructions, or impose coercive fines. For serious or repeated violations, administrative fines may also be imposed.

The intentional destruction, falsification, manipulation, or concealment of documents with the goal of preventing disclosure or oversight is explicitly prohibited. Such violations must be reported to the Public Prosecutor’s Office and can result in disciplinary, civil, or criminal penalties. Whistleblowers who report violations of the law in good faith are protected from retaliation.

A central pillar of the new transparency regime is the planned National Digital Open Government Portal, a centralized online platform where all public bodies will publish their proactively disclosed information. The portal is required to be free of charge, permanently accessible, fully searchable, and machine-readable to facilitate reuse by the public and media.

Implementation of the reform will be rolled out in phases. Within six months of the law entering into force, every public body must appoint a dedicated transparency coordinator. Within 12 months, each body must adopt a public transparency and information management plan. The Open Government Portal must be operational within 18 months, and all active disclosure obligations must be fully implemented within 24 months.

The explanatory memorandum emphasizes that the reform is designed to drive a fundamental cultural shift within government: rather than focusing on which information can be withheld, agencies will now be required to prioritize disclosure of all information that should be public. If the bill is approved and fully implemented, it will not only expand public access to government information: it will embed a legal obligation for the state to proactively show how decisions are made, how public funds are spent, and what agreements are made on behalf of the Surinamese people.