Writing is an act of resistance | Behrouz Boochani | TEDxSydney

For the past six years Behrouz Boochani, like hundreds of others who have sought asylum in Australia, has been imprisoned on Manus Island. In this moving talk, he calls for compassion and freedom, reminding us all that "we are human just like you." As Behrouz says, "for me, writing and creating is a kind of resistance, it is a way of fighting to get my identity, humanity and dignity back in front of a system that is established to take anything that has meaning of life from us."

Behrouz Boochani is a Kurdish journalist, writer, poet and filmmaker. He has been held in Manus Island detention center since 2013. During his time in detention, he has published regularly with The Guardian, and his writing also features in The Saturday Paper, Huffington Post, New Matilda, The Financial Times and The Sydney Morning Herald, covering the plight of his fellow refugees held by the Australian government on Manus Island.

In 2018 he published his novel - "No Friend But the Mountains: Writing from Manus Prison," which won Australia’s most valuable literary award, the $100,000 2019 Victorian Prize for Literature. His journalism has also been awarded the Amnesty International Australia 2017 Media Award, the Diaspora Symposium Social Justice Award, the Liberty Victoria 2018 Empty Chair Award, and the Anna Politkovskaya Award for journalism. Boochani remains in detention on Manus Island.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

Hello everyone.

My name is Behrouz Boochani.

Some of you will know me;
some of you will not.

I am a Kurdish novelist and journalist.

In May 2013, I fled Iran

because of my journalism
and cultural activities.

I traveled to Australia by boat,
but never arrived.

I was exiled to Manus Island
alongside 1,000 other people.

Manus Island is a remote tiny island

in the north of Papua New Guinea, PNG,
in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

This is my story:

A man who left his country
because he didn't want to live in prison.

A man who sought asylum,
but ended up in a prison for six years.

My story is the same
as 2,000 other innocent people.

People who have been in prison

in Manus and Nauru
for seeking asylum in Australia.

My story is only one of many stories
in these two islands.

When they exiled us to Manus in 2013,

we found ourselves in a place
that was worse than a prison.

We were deprived from having
access to many things.

Basic things, including having a phone.

For four and a half years,
we were living in this prison

with metal fences and guards,
and with much deprivation.

At the end of 2017,

we were forcibly moved from that prison
to other compounds on Manus Island.

So the history of our life here
is in two parts:

The closed prison and now the compounds

which have fences around them and guards,

but we are allowed to move
around the island during the day.

Although we have been moved
from the first prison,

we are still in a prison,

a bigger prison,

an island prison.

After three and a half years,
the PNG Supreme Court ruled

that keeping innocent people
in prison is illegal

and deprived us of our human rights.

It also ruled that we
should have access to phones.

This was a big achievement.

Before that, I had smuggled
a phone into the prison

by exchanging my clothes,
shoes, and cigarettes

with a local man who was working
inside the prison,

and I started to communicate
with the outside world,

with people such as journalists.

The guards would sometimes
attack our rooms, looking for phones.

Twice they found my phone and took it,
and I had to smuggle another phone.

This happened to many of us here,

so it was not easy to communicate
to the outside world.

I didn't feel safe
with the authorities and guards,

and that's why I worked under a fake name
for more than two years.

When I became sure that I had made

a strong network of journalists
and supporters internationally,

I decided it was safe to publish
my work under my real name.

For me, writing has always been
an act of resistance.

In this situation on Manus,
it is still my resistance.

The system that operates this prison
aimed to reduce us to numbers,

to remove our individuality,
and destroy our identity.

For me, writing and creating
is a way of fighting

to get my identity, humanity,
and dignity back,

in front of a cruel system
that is established to take anything

that has meaning of life from us.

In Manus, I soon found
that the language of journalism

is not able to describe
the systematic torture that we are under

and the life in Manus prison camp.

The language of journalism
is a kind of language

that is part of the power structures
that I am fighting against.

How can I describe six years
living in exile

in one of the worst prisons in the world?

Twelve people have died already.

For so many people who have heard
about people in Manus and Nauru

we are reduced to some simple pictures.

But we are human.

We exist.

And we are suffering.

We are human, same as you.

How can I describe a father's suffering

who is separated from his wife
and children for six years?

How can I describe a mother witnessing
her small kids growing up for six years

in a prison camp?

How can I describe a young man
who was full of life,

but has lost opportunity
to continue his education,

to find love, has lost his health,
his family, his hope,

has lost many opportunities
that you take for granted?

That is why I have worked for years
to tell this story,

through creative and literary language.

That is why I wrote a novel on my phone

and sent it, text by text,

through WhatsApp
to my translator in Australia.

Language is important.

You will notice I call
this place a prison,

Manus prison,

not an offshore processing center.

Naming this prison as a prison
shows the lies of government language.

It helps us to understand
the structural and systematic torture

of Australia's detention regime.

Part of creating my own language

is to fight against the commodification
and objectification of our pain.

It is a deep part of this system
that imprisons and tortures us.

I know that people who participate in TEDx
share their inspiring life and perspective

to create a way for others.

But, for me, as a person,
who is still struggling

alongside hundreds of innocent people
against this system,

what can I say?

How can I inspire people
while still I am not sure

if I will survive or not.

I am really sorry,
sorry that I make you uncomfortable,

but I think that I don't have a choice
other than to make you uncomfortable

because this is my story.

I'm a kind of person who was born in war,

I have had the life full of adventures,

I've experienced homelessness, poverty,

and sometimes the luxury
of an income and a home.

I have met many kinds of people,

I experienced amazing love,

and of course,
I have many stories to share.

But, I think I don't have this right
to talk about myself

while many people are suffering
in these two islands.

I don't know, perhaps, one day,
when I am a free man,

I will be invited to talk with people
about other experiences -

about love, life, and the meaning of life.

I don't know, perhaps,
if I smoke less, I will survive.

I smoke too much.

For now, I must write and talk

because there are still 500 people
with me in prison on Manus Island.

There are still hundreds on Nauru .

We are still in prison.

I have the tool of language, of writing.

It's not easy to write from here.

It costs me a lot.

I fight to write and hope
that people actually read my words closely

and engage deeply with them.

In the end, my wish

is that people in Nauru and Manus
reach their freedom soon.

Thank you

(Applause)