Published on 07/28/22
In 1906, Ricardo Flores Magón, an intellectual who championed freedom and equality during the Mexican Revolution, sharply criticized the press for its "venality and aggressive cynicism." He accused it of "praising the clumsiness and wrongdoings of the government... covering up crimes, threatening virtues, spreading evil and barbarism." Fast forward to today, and the situation in Mexico bears an eerie resemblance. It has evolved into one of the world's most perilous places to live and work as a journalist, where censorship, government interference, and violence have effectively stifled a free press.
The alarming statistics paint a grim picture of Mexico's media landscape. A staggering revelation is that a journalist in Mexico falls victim to an attack every 26 hours, with 39 journalists murdered between 2012 and 2017. To put this into a global context, during the same time frame, South Sudan, one of Africa's most violent countries, saw five journalist murders; Israel and the occupied territories reported six deaths; Colombia had four casualties; and Venezuela had none. Even during the worst years of the Bosnian War (1993–94), there were 11 journalist deaths.
Besides the documented assassinations, 23 journalists have "disappeared" since 2003. Threats, both in person and online, have led to hundreds of journalists being arbitrarily detained by the police, having their equipment vandalized, and even seeking refuge away from their homes. Shockingly, 99% of cases involving murdered journalists in Mexico remain unsolved, a chilling testament to the prevailing culture of impunity. Tragically, when these acts of violence are reported, the media often provides them with scant attention, sometimes reducing the tragic loss of life to a mere tweet.
Strangely, a substantial portion of the population seems indifferent to the silencing of the press, despite the grave circumstances. As someone who has worked as a human rights defender and investigative journalist, focusing on violence against the press in Mexico and Central America, it's perplexing to comprehend this indifference. So, why does this apparent apathy exist?
Firstly, the violence of the 21st century has desensitized us. With every threat, attack, or murder, our threshold for what is deemed acceptable expands further. This issue is compounded by the widespread lack of appreciation for the importance of journalists. The highly concentrated television market and a dearth of diversity in national media reinforce the perception that journalists have surrendered their independence to political power. While a handful of independent journalists, such as Carmen Aristegui, Daniel Moreno, Salvador Camarena, Daniel Lizárraga, Marcela Turati, Alejandra Xanic, and Diego Osorno, have managed to earn the public's trust, they remain exceptions within Mexico's media landscape.
Secondly, the inherent tension between being an activist and a journalist remains unresolved. Activists must be resilient, well-informed, and prepared to take radical stances to have their demands addressed. The essence of activist journalism is to question official narratives relentlessly, casting doubt, seeking answers, conducting in-depth research, and reporting on the facts. Contrary to the notion that this approach compromises journalistic professionalism, it enhances it. Sadly, the national media only sporadically publishes or broadcasts the work of activist journalists.
Mexican journalists find themselves in the worst of both worlds: They live in fear of organized crime and the government. In a country ostensibly fighting a drug war, it's often challenging to ascertain whether a journalist fell victim to drug lords or public officials. Startlingly, five out of every ten attacks, including threats, arbitrary detentions, or physical assaults, are perpetrated by public servants. Local newspapers bear the brunt of this violence. Take, for example, Nuevo Laredo, where the newspaper El Mañana has ceased to cover drug-related violence, despite it being one of the most affected regions. In 2012, the newspaper's building was targeted with explosives, followed by cyberattacks in 2013, the kidnapping of Director Enrique Juárez in 2015, and a local government campaign to discredit the newspaper in 2017.
The past six years have been marred by violence and political turmoil related to the 43 missing students from Ayotzinapa, unpunished corruption scandals, and government surveillance of its dissidents. Today, more than ever, a healthy, vigilant, and critical media is essential to hold the misuse of political and economic power accountable. Mexico has not fully transitioned to democracy, and this is evident in the realm of the press and mass media.
While the media landscape may be more diverse than before, with an additional national TV channel and a growing digital media ecosystem, the enduring relationship between print media owners and political power remains. Media democracy necessitates maintaining distance from government interests and approaching reality critically. In Mexico, print media is entwined with the government's machinery. The press, often referred to as the fourth estate, lacks true independence.
In 2016, the federal government spent over $472 million on governmental advertising. This spending is unregulated, with no transparent criteria for allocation. It interferes with the dissemination of information, making it increasingly challenging to distinguish truth from pure propaganda.
Local newspapers face an even tougher struggle. A closer look at the source of editorial decisions reveals that approximately 50% of local newspapers' income originates from official advertising, a form of control and indirect censorship. In February 2012, the Diario de Juárez received a letter from the Public Security Office, asking them to modify their coverage of violence to qualify for governmental advertising. The newspaper publicly exposed this attempt at censorship, prompting the government agency to retract its threat. How many similar cases remain undisclosed?
On one hand, our version of crony capitalism has led to a market dominated by private advertising, accessible only to major players. On the other hand, unchecked and unaccountable governmental advertising and publicity have a chilling effect at both federal and local levels.
As illustrated by José Merino and Darío Ramírez, "over half of the effective space" on the front pages of Mexican newspapers is dedicated to articles based solely on statements from a single source, institution, or organization. This undermines one of journalism's core objectives: seeking the truth. Daily, we witness media directors and owners photographing themselves alongside politicians in a mutual celebration.
A century later, the words of Ricardo Flores Magón continue to reverberate with chilling relevance. Mexico has not achieved a full transition to democracy, and the press remains under threat, silenced, and compromised. Violence against journalists compels us to fight and strive for the truth every day.
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