Taha Siddiqui, Dissident Club Paris – man wearing a fedora standing in front of a cafe front painted red.
t outside the Dissident Club.
Identity

Inside the Parisian Cafe for Subversives and Whistleblowers

The Dissident Club is a meeting spot for insubordinate minds in exile.
Paul-Louis Godier
Brussels, BE
Paul-Louis Godier
Brussels, BE

This article originally appeared on VICE Belgium.

Taha Siddiqui is a man who wears many hats and has lived many lives. After a career as an investigative journalist in Pakistan, Siddiqui survived a kidnapping and an assassination attempt. In 2018, he decided to move to Paris with his wife to rebuild far away from home. Cut off from his regular sources and the ability to do fieldwork, he found himself looking for a new career.

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In 2020, Siddiqui launched the Dissident Club, a modern-day “café littéraire” reminiscent of the gathering spots where bright minds would exchange ideas in the 1800s. “In Paris, there are many bars with cultural, social, and political activities,” Siddiqui tells VICE. “As a political refugee, a journalist in exile and a dissident, I wanted to bring together people like me under one roof.”

Today, Siddiqui is both the café’s manager and its bartender. He organises events to highlight the work of journalists, activists and artists who had to leave their home country under threats of persecution, just like him. Discussions, debates, conferences, and exhibitions help him create a safe space for dissidents from all over the world, as well as enlightening and educating customers at the bar.

In 2022 alone, 50 different countries were represented at the Dissident Club. Some of their home countries are mapped onto a dartboard, where journalists and activists have pinned photos of their often undemocratic leaders. (I’ll refrain from disclosing the identity of the figure on the 20 point slot.)

“I have a project on transnational repression where we talk about the fact that, even in exile, you can still be targeted, intimidated and harassed,” Siddiqui says. "What I want to convey to people with this project is that when you go into exile, you don’t simply start a new life and everything is different. You continue living your previous life – in greater safety, yes, but never in total safety. I want to raise awareness about this.”

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Siddiqui has rebuilt his life in France to the best of his ability, and continues to write for international publications including the Guardian and the New York Times. In March, he published the graphic novel Dissident Club: Chronicles of a Pakistani Journalist in Exile, where he talks about freedom of expression and of the press – topics he also raises in regular talks at schools.

But because of the target on his back, Siddiqui still has to be careful about who he associates with in daily life. Pakistan is one of the most dangerous countries for journalists, ranking 150 out of 180 in the World Press Freedom Index. His friends and relatives from Pakistan also have to avoid being seen in public with him, as associates of reporters are often targeted.

That’s also why the Dissident Club matters so much to Siddiqui. Being in exile can be isolating, so he made it his personal mission to forge connections between political refugees and locals.

Daniel Noel, a Frenchman and retired teacher, is one of Siddiqui’s regular collaborators. Since June 2018, Noel and his wife have been running an artist residency programme called La maison des artistes en exil (The House of Exiled Artists) in the small northwestern town of Saint-Briac sur Mer.

Every year, the couple supports new artists’ exhibitions and invites them over to stay while working on their projects. Over 50 artists so far have joined the programme from countries all over the world, including Syria, Afghanistan, Palestine, Iran and Ukraine.

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“This project is a political choice,” Noel explains. “I'm not a humanitarian proving assistance to people in distress. After decades of activism, we decided that supporting individuals persecuted by political regimes after having fought against them was the best choice for us.”

Noel believes our understanding of what it means to be a refugee has been hollowed out by our current political debate. “These people don't flee their countries just to seek shelter,” he argues. “They do it to continue living, to rebuild themselves, and to pursue their struggle through their art.” That’s why he’s always on the lookout for artists to connect with Siddiqui and show their work at the cafe, whether they go through his residency or not.

The evening I visited the Dissident Club was the opening of Belarusian painter Iren Flore's exhibition. Flore has opposed her country’s government – often called Europe’s last dictatorship – since she was young and, at 17, she decided to leave for Ukraine. In 2022, the war prompted her to seek refuge in Paris.

Since then, Flore says, she’s been struggling to showcase her work. She’s visited several Parisian galleries, but no one showed an interest in her work. The language barrier and her status aren’t exactly helping, she adds.

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Like Flore, this is also Dasha's first time at the Dissident Club. Dasha, who asked to remain partly anonymous out of safety concerns, is a politically engaged Russian intellectual who left after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Back home, she had many run-ins with the police, including an official letter addressed to her university, accusing her of illegal conduct.

After the letter, Dasha no longer felt safe. She quit her job and moved to France, where she’d previously studied during her Bachelor’s, to avoid more problems. For Dasha, a space like the Dissident Club represents an opportunity to connect with people who share a similar story as hers without having to constantly explain the finer points of her situation.

“The other people here understand that you're not in great shape and that you might not want to talk about it,” she says. “I’ve been trying to speak more with French people to improve my French, but in general, I spend most of my time with Russians. Otherwise, I get a bit tired of always having to tell the same story.”

Siddiqui is familiar with this mental and emotional fatigue. After his assault, he kept having flashbacks to the trauma and had to seek therapy to treat his PTSD. “ Of course, I sometimes still get tired, upset, or depressed at the thought of talking to people, but that's natural,” he explains. “I think therapy helped me better understand my feelings.”

Discussions at the club might feel challenging or hard, but the only way to feel less alone is opening up to those who understand you most. Siddiqui organises a roundtable on mental health for political refugees with the help of psychologists, alongside the many debates and performances open to the public. Ultimately, his vision is to foster some unity among people in exile and to transform the Dissident Club into a haven of support for them; a place they can come home to, even if they have to navigate tough circumstances in every other part of their lives.