
Today marks the anniversary of the beginning of the multiday siege by Yemeni
police and security personnel of the compound that houses the offices of the
independent daily Al-Ayyam. During its assault on the headquarters of the
critical daily, the government used automatic machine guns, rocket-propelled
grenades, and heavy weaponry. The siege and the ensuing violence was apparently
initiated in response to journalists from Al-Ayyam and other outlets
conducting a sit-in outside the compound to protest the daily's suspension
since May.
The siege was not a first for Al-Ayyam. On
May 13, 2009, government forces stormed the paper's compound after
showering it with a hail of bullets. The ensuing firefight between government
forces and the daily's guards, which the paper's management said lasted about
an hour, left a passerby dead and two of the paper's guards injured.
Al-Ayyam
was once the country's highest-circulation publication, reaching more than
70,000 readers, before it was effectively banned from publication in May 2009. Founded
in 1958, Al-Ayyam has long been Yemen's most popular daily, dwarfing the
circulation of the government-owned dailies combined. Prior to the ban, it was
the only private newspaper to be distributed in every governorate of Yemen. The paper's popularity was rooted in its
readiness to tackle Yemen's biggest red lines: corruption in the upper echelons
of government, social unrest in the southern half of the country, and the
years-long government offensive against Houthi rebels in the country's northern
tip.
I was in Yemen in July to conduct research for a report on the deterioration of press freedom in the county.
Naturally, I visited with Al-Ayyam and its management. Two things in
particular stood out.
First, the damage done to the compound was gruesome. Even
after close to six months of more or less continuous renovations, I saw
exterior walls extensively scared by bullet holes of all sizes, gaping holes in
interior walls large enough for an adult to crawl through (apparently caused by
rocket-propelled grenades), as well as charred furniture, broken glass, and
molten children's toys. The scene resembled Baghdad or Beirut, both of which
still contain an abundance of battle-scarred buildings, a testament to the
ghastly clashes that were waged there.
Second, during a short 15-minute drive through Aden with Al-Ayyam's
executive manager, Mohammad Bashraheel, random
passersby on three separate occasions asked him when the car was stopped at
traffic lights or stuck in traffic when the paper would be back on newsstands.
One of them said that he had sworn off reading papers until Al-Ayyam returned.
The sentiment appeared sincere and seemingly universal, at least among the
small sample of people I encountered on the streets that day.
At this most politically precarious time for Yemen--when the
government is fighting a seemingly losing battle against al-Qaeda and other
extremist groups, is suffering from the highest poverty rates in the region,
and is seeking
to do away with presidential term limits in what
will almost certainly be a rigged 2011 vote-- the void left by Al-Ayyam's
absence is as strongly felt as ever.

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