#8: How long must this go on?
The journalist finds himself waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Meanwhile, diplomatic efforts are finally ramping up to a culmination...
NOTE: This is a continuation of a previous episode. For full context, please find the previous episodes here. If you’re reading the School of Tunisia for the first time, you can find an introduction to the page here.
After speaking with my lawyer and receiving the non-update from the court in Sfax on October 31st, I sent a message to my embassy. I told them what had happened, then I sent them this article, which had just come out, about the imprisonment of the French PhD student, Victor Dupont. I had read in a separate article in Tunisie Numerique that the French authorities had access to his case file, which felt relevant to the embassy team I was speaking with. Finally, I requested to have a call with the team about the situation.
Not long after sending my email, the ambassador responded, and we scheduled a call for 3 p.m.
Over the past several months of stuckness, I was fortunate to have a project on my hands: I was single-handedly doing post-production for what would become a 74-minute feature documentary film about migration, all filmed in Tunisia in the summer of 2023.
Anyone who has ever used video editing software would have an immediate sense of the magnitude of such a task. But I was happy to have something to fill my time with and to build a routine around.
The day of the call was no different. The final 74-minute cut had been made, and I was working non-stop on the final sound editing on a bunch of animation clips that accompany one of the interviews. Most of it was done on a shared iMac at a cultural center because my old laptop couldn’t handle it.
A few minutes before 3 p.m., I left my workspace to go out onto the sidewalk and got ready for my call. The plan was to try to get some of the points across from the unsent email draft from a few days earlier.
I plugged in my headphones and sent the ambassador a WhatsApp message to let her know that I was ready, and a few minutes later we got on the call.
The first thing I told her was that my primary goal with the call was to let her and the embassy team know that my perspective on everything had changed a lot since we had last discussed the fundamentals of our approach in late September. Then, I had been focused on clearing my name and solving my situation so as to not ruin my life in Tunis. Now, I told the ambassador, I was beginning to lean towards the other option: get me out as fast as possible, no matter what.
Simultaneously, I was hearing stories from different sources and contacts with high-level access in the Tunisian system that the President was basically only interested in geopolitics, while all internal Tunisian affairs were left to the internal security forces who were doing a great job manipulating the president into thinking he was running things. Great. It felt like things were going south fast, and I had been caught up in it.
The call
In my conversation with the ambassador, I remembered my meeting with the staffer during the embassy team’s visit to Tunisia in late September. The staffer had quoted a friendly ambassador with whom they had discussed my case who had asked quite nonchalantly why the Danes didn’t just ask the Tunisians to deport me. I mentioned to the ambassador that I was starting to lean strongly in this direction.
The ambassador responded to me that they had a couple of different ways to move forward.
The first option was to continue to take a diplomatic approach, but to bring efforts up a level. A Danish secretary of state would be going on an official visit to Tunisia on November 25th. I found it to coincide with the Nordic-Tunisian Sustainability Business Forum where a Danish secretary of state would be speaking and assumed it would be the same person, but I don’t know with certainty. This person would be able to bring my case up with their Tunisian counterpart, which would be a serious escalation from previous efforts. After that, the ambassador told me, if it were necessary she could request a meeting with the Tunisian Minister of Foreign Affairs.
The second option would be to work towards a deportation. This would not happen through official channels but through back channels (my words, not the ambassador’s). In this case, the Danes would seek the assistance of the friendly ambassador who suggested a deportation back in September.
I did learn during our conversation which embassy made the comment, but I will not be sharing. I can, however, confirm that they have a heavy stake in Tunisia’s continued management of Europe’s Mediterranean borders, and that it is well-known in Tunis that this ambassador is beloved by the Tunisian authorities.
There would be no guarantees that this approach would work, the ambassador prefaced, but the Danes would ask it as a favor from said ambassador who could bring it up with the Tunisians more directly.
Lastly, the ambassador mentioned that she had sent a follow-up cable to her contact in the Tunisian consular services who had seen it but not responded.
I told the ambassador a bit more about my condition after that. This became a bit of a monologue, mirroring some but not all of the points that I had made in my unsent email draft.
I explained to her that while I’m mentally stable still, I could not guarantee my sanity if this were to continue for another 4-5-6 months. I mentioned that I didn’t sleep at night and was dealing with constant anxiety and paranoia, which was taking a heavy toll. I mentioned the 22nd of November as a red line I was almost settled on, as well as the wedding in December, and that I was seriously considering risking everything on that date to make as much noise and trouble possible with no consideration of the risk it might entail. I also mentioned the case of the imprisoned French PhD student once again.
The last point I made to her is perhaps best conveyed through a note I wrote down later that day:
I also told her that with the institutions crumbling at the speed of light, I wonder if I've shot myself in the foot by keeping quiet and staying for this long, as I'm becoming nervous that a politically opportune moment will present itself a few months down the line, and they'll have this random Danish guy sitting around that they can use in their political game.
Those prospects were not fun.
The ambassador told me she followed my logic and, broadly speaking, agreed with my analysis, and she emphasized that it was my right to speak publicly if I wanted to. She added that if we stick with the diplomatic route, November 22nd would not be the best day for me to put it all out there. Also, I should probably prepare myself for staying through Christmas, if this is what we were to do.
Finally, she asked me if I was ready to commit to pursuing the deportation route. I was tempted, but I told her that I needed to speak with my lawyer and my family first. We agreed that I would sleep on it and get back to her with an answer a few days later.
Later that afternoon, I had a chat with a friend who knows the Tunisian context well. I mentioned the deportation news to him. Like me, he was apprehensive, because we both understood that even if it wasn’t explicitly thought of as such, materially it would be a win-win situation for a European embassy deeply invested in the Mediterranean border externalization they had contracted Tunisia to execute, if they could get a critical journalist out of Tunisia.
It was a big ethical question to consider. But at the same time, I had already been de-facto barred from working on these topics as a journalist since May.
Losing faith
The next day, I was looking to speak with my lawyer. But again, with the deteriorating situation in the country and his insane workload, it was difficult to find the time.
We finally managed to find a time to talk on the phone on Monday, November 4th.
However, earlier that morning I received a few WhatsApp messages from the ambassador. She had been in touch with the French embassy to see what they could learn from the Victor Dupont case. The French had told her that my lawyer had to reach out to the airport police and the Ministry of Interior - a pretty basic step we had taken at the very start.
Then she mentioned that the EU group in Tunisia were considering making a joint démarche to protest, which presumably would loop my case in with that of the French PhD student and maybe other Europeans in similar situations whom I had not heard of. I’m not sure if the démarche ever amounted to anything, but it was in the works at that point. The ambassador did not know exactly what the timeline was for it.
Lastly she recommended I deliberate with my lawyer about the risks of going public, and she added that she feared it would lead to imprisonment.
We chatted back and forth a bit longer, and I avoided making a decision on the deportation question since I still hadn’t managed to speak with my lawyer.
Around 9 p.m. that night, I finally got the chance.
We first chatted a bit about his recent trip to the court in Sfax, during which he had been told to come back the next week. He was committed to doing that, he told me.
I confessed to him that I was losing faith in the process and becoming very afraid of what would happen. I also mentioned the deportation option and my idea of setting a red line date after which I would go public. He understood my frustration, emphasized that I should prioritize my own safety, and recommended I keep things quiet while still in Tunisia.
At the very least, I decided to hold off on the deportation plan until my lawyer had made it to Sfax one more time to check in while the judge responsible was not on vacation.
After the call, I had a talk with my girlfriend surrounding what felt like an illusory question: What if my lawyer came back from Sfax with good news?
The conclusion was pretty clear, though: leave immediately.
Of course, nothing at the court in Sfax would remove my S17 ‘border consultation’ - so I knew that that would most likely activate in the airport regardless. In other words, if the Ministry of Interior really wanted to keep me, no judicial decision would suffice to let me out.
On November 6th, the ambassador and I spoke a bit more about the planned démarche. Apparently, the EU group had already requested the meeting at the Tunisian Ministry of Foreign Affairs a couple of weeks prior. But it could take a bit of time before it actually happened, she told me.
Waiting, waiting, waiting…
The night before had been awful. Out of all the things that were awful about my situation, the lack of sleep was the most torturous. During the first few months, I managed to use certain mindfulness strategies to distract from my thoughts and fall asleep. For a period in September-October, I had managed to successfully implement a routine of waking up every day at 7 a.m., doing a 30-minute body weight workout from a YouTube video, then showering and cooking up some eggs. The goal that night was to return to this schedule, but it proved impossible.
In my notes, I wrote:
I slept like shit last night and the night before because I have so much anxiety about the fact that the situation feels like it's at a sort of tipping point now. [My girlfriend] and I went to bed just before 11 p.m., and I was laying wide awake until midnight thirty, then got up and watched an election livestream (HasanAbi) until 2 a.m. when I was finally tired enough to go back and pass out. Woke up around 7:45 a.m. or so and was unable to fall asleep again. The plan had been to fall asleep quickly at 11 p.m. and get up at 7 a.m. to get back into a more controlled routine like before, but I'm beginning to suspect that I am not capable of doing that right now, which sucks so much.
I'm so fucking over this whole situation, and it honestly makes me wish I had pursued a different life. I just wish I could lay down in my bed and sleep forever.
Waiting for the court trip
At this point, I was awaiting my lawyer’s next trip to Sfax. With everything going on, that proved challenging.
On Wednesday, November 6th, I didn’t hear anything. Thursday evening, I got through, and my lawyer told me he’d be able to go the following Wednesday, November 13th.
Meanwhile, my anxiety was developing in new directions. November 11th was the first day on which I took note of heart palpitations, followed by an unexplainable need to take a deep breath that resulted in heartburn. I had experienced heart palipitations previously, but usually in response to specific triggers or, once in a while, in small spaces with many people. Experiencing it at random in my couch at home was a new thing.
On the 12th, I felt it almost the entire day. Many things were coinciding. The documentary film - EN ROUTE TO EUROPE, WE BURN OR DIE - was finished, and we were scheduled to do a semi-closed screening the next day at Georgetown University’s Center for Contemporary Arab Studies where I did my Master’s, and where my partner in the film project teaches. I was proud of course, but also afraid. What if the Tunisians heard about it?
November 12th also marked my father’s 70th birthday. I really had to distract myself in order not to feel sad to miss it. The ironic thing is that I’m terrible at remembering my parents’ birthdays - to the point that it’s almost a family tradition for my message of congratulation to be belated by a few days. This year was different.
And of course, lastly, the next day would be the day that my lawyer went to check in at the court in Sfax - hopefully for the last time. In the evening of November 12th, I texted him, and he confirmed that he was still planning on making the three-hour commute south to Sfax the following day.
Wednesday, November 13th, I woke up around 8:45 a.m. after going to bed at 2 a.m. the night before. I received no news in the morning. No news in the afternoon. I tried to nap in the afternoon because I was so tired I was barely functioning - and I had my film screening to attend in the evening as a panelist.
In the afternoon, I saw online that three new arrest cases had taken place: two activists and a journalist had been taken in for interrogations, all people whose work I am very familiar with and one of whom I’ve met and chatted with a few times before. I figured there was a high likelihood that my lawyer had ended up assisting them in the interrogation instead of going to Sfax. The next day, he confirmed that he did not manage to make it to Sfax.
Lukcily, I had a small win - the film screening went well. Noureddine Jebnoun - the director of the film - and myself were joined by Amade M’charek, professor at the University of Amsterdam, Ahlam Chemlali, PhD Fellow at the Danish Institute for International Studies, and Lahra Smith, the Director of Georgetown University’s African Studies Program. The latter three watched the film for the first time and provided their commentary to about 50 attendees, which made for a great event.
The following day, I woke up to the awful news that one of the individuals we interviewed for the documentary, Abdallah Said, had been arrested and charged with money laundering and conspiracy against state security. Said is an incredible and warm man who probably does more good for vulnerable migrants in the Tunisian south than anyone else. His case is yet another obvious instance of the Tunisian authorities punishing any marginally independent voice that dares provide assistance to black African migrants. Of course, it is important to note that his arrest was not related to the film screening.
To this day, Abdallah is in prison awaiting trial.
On Friday, November 15th, I updated the embassy once again about us not having made it to the court in Sfax. I was beginning to wonder if it would be best if I just went myself. But at the same time, I was scared of getting anywhere near Sfax.
That day, news also broke that the French PhD student, Victor Dupont, had been released and deported back to France safe and sound. As much as that was a good thing, it made me very concerned. The Danish ambassador assured me that it wouldn’t affect the EU group’s plans for a joint démarche, but I was still afraid it would. Once again, I looked back at my choice to keep my case from the public with regret.
On November 18th, my lawyer confirmed to me that he would attempt to make the trip to Sfax on November 20th.
More details…
On November 20th, I woke up around 9 a.m. to a message from my lawyer. He was on his way to Sfax. In anticipation of positive news, my girlfriend implored me to get on a call with my lawyer to figure out the next steps as quickly as possible. If the lifting of the travel ban was confirmed, we would need to figure out how to deal with my lawsuit in the Administrative Court and the S17.
I figured that the ‘request for suspension of execusion’ of the S17 would probably have been granted by now, and it would be good to bring confirmation of that to the airport in case they tried to pull me aside for questioning.
Around 3 p.m., my lawyer got back to me again. He had had a discussion with the person responsible for travel bans at the court, which reached an impasse that I still don’t fully understand to this day.
My understanding is that, while S08 judicial travel bans should lift automatically after 15 days, no one communicates this to the internal security forces that enforce it. Therefore, enforcement continues in perpetuity.
However, it seems to me that a contradiction is at play here. If the travel ban was actually lifted automatically in the court after 15 days, why did the court’s clerk manually enter the travel ban document into the travel ban registry on day 63, back in August, when they realized they had forgotten to do so at its issuance? It felt and still feels extremely fishy to me.
I’m not sure exactly what led to the following decision, but the focus on the travel ban was scrapped, and my lawyer filed a request for expedited review of and judgment in the overall case. The focus shifted from getting rid of the travel ban to getting the case closed completely.
I had many follow-up questions that I sent to my lawyer: about the timeline from here, the travel bans, the closure of the case, the abuse of authority case with the Administrative Court etc., but we decided to speak about it the following day.
On the following day, November 21st, I got a long laundry list of information.
As for the timeline, we would check in again at the court after 7 to 10 days and hope the case had been closed. The S17 could be removed, my lawyer told me, after presenting a certificate of case closure to the Administrative Court. And if the case were to close in the court in Sfax, that would imply an end to the investigation of me by the specialized investigations unit at the National Guard base in Laouina, and I would be entitled to retrieve my phone.
Lastly, on November 21st, 2024, one day before the six-month anniversary of my arrest, I finally learned the official topic of investigation:
“Violation of decisions and orders issued by the authorities, practicing journalism without a license, and processing personal data without the data subject's consent.”
Nothing more, nothing less.
Of course, these are ridiculous things to be investigating.
“Violation of decisions and orders issued by the authorities” is as vague as anything could possibly be and cannot carry any serious meaning without further detail.
“Practicing journalism without a license” is simply not a crime under Tunisian law. In fact, it would imply the criminalization of a wide range of completely normal activities. Since when has the public prosecution had the mandate to investigate non-crimes?
It furthermore implies that there was reason to doubt if I was in fact a journalist, despite the fact that I presented my official Danish press card from the beginning of my very first encounter with the police.
But “processing personal data without the data subject's consent” was perhaps the most perverse point of investigation. With the “data subject” being the interviewee, meaning Nelle from Cameroon, it purports to be the case that this investigation was an effort to protect the migrant woman from me, framed as an exploitative journalist who sought to use her data without her consent. The Tunisian National Guard, which arrests, beats, tear gasses, tortures, desert dumps and sells migrants to Libyan militias are suddenly in the business of investigating journalists in order to protect migrants? The National Guard that tear gassed Nelle into miscarrying her baby suddenly cares to protect her? Give me a break, and come back once you’re done investigating your own colleagues.
Even if we were to take this seriously, why did no investigator ever ask Nelle a single question about what had happened? And why did interview consent not come up a single time in any of the interrogations I was subjected to? I should add that I would’ve been more than ready to detail the explicit consent I received from Nelle to “process” her “personal data” - or as we journalists call it, interview her.
It is as infuriating now, in February 2025, as it was when it happened.
Of course, I forwarded all the information to the Danes to prepare them for the state secretary meeting the following Monday.
Diplomacy
Monday, November 25th, was another waiting day. I was awaiting a few clarifications from my lawyer, as well as an update from the Danes on the state secretary meeting. On Instagram, an acquaintance from the past posted a picture from her participation in the Nordic-Tunisian Sustainable Business Forum - so it was definitely happening.
The day before, my girlfriend received a friend from the U.S. who was visiting Tunisia and staying in our apartment for a few days before the two of them headed to Rome for a long weekend. I was happy to have something to do, and the added company gave a greater sense of normalcy. And while they were in Rome, I would spend a day going to a workshop at a university in Sousse and another figuring out how to find ingredients for, then make a pecan pie for a small Thanksgiving celebration at a friend’s apartment.
I was trying my best to make it all feel normal.
The Danes reached out a day later, the ambassador telling me that the meeting had gone well. The Danes brought records of all the notes they had sent the Tunisian authorities, expressed their worry about the case and encouraged the Tunisians to lean into solving it. The Tunisians promised to look into it.
The important thing was to keep expressing interest like this in the case, I was told, and to hope that the Tunisians wanted to avoid tension between the two countries with the upcoming embassy opening.
As will be known to anyone who has made it this far into my writings, this was far from the first time I heard people on the Tunisian side promise to look into my case, so I was far from convinced. But I did feel like the Danes were doing more now. I felt more reassured than I had felt in October.
I got further confirmation of that on November 29th. I had spent the day going to the workshop in Sousse and had been without internet, since I had not bought a local SIM-card after my phone confiscation.
Around 9 p.m., I made it home to my apartment in Tunis and got online to messages from the ambassador.
"Hello Jakob. Lars Løkke is meeting with his Tunisian colleague 2/12. We're thinking for him to raise your case.”
To those who are not aware, Lars Løkke Rasmussen is the Danish foreign minister. Him meeting with the Tunisian Foreign Minister would truly be raising it to the highest level of diplomatic effort.
How long can this really continue without resolution?
In the next episode of the School of Tunisia, will I make it out?
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