Argentina’s President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner Photo: Demotix

Argentina has an extraordinary number of newspapers, magazines, radio and TV stations. Greater Buenos Aires, the largest urban centre where 13.5 million people live has 18 newspapers, 37 TV channels (five analogue and 32 digital), seven news channels, and 550 AM and FM radio stations. Does this mean that it is a thriving market, with highly educated, enlightened audiences, where the development of the media is directly linked to prosperity?

No. The reason Argentina boasts a huge proliferation of media organisations is strictly political.

Many of the media outlets – indeed most newspapers – could not survive a single month with what they get from selling copies of the newspaper and sales in advertising space. The country’s 141 periodicals and newspapers sell a total daily average of 1.3m copies. Eighty-two per cent of them have tiny circulations of about 10,000 copies. Over 40 per cent sell less than 1,000 copies, according to the Asociación de Entidades Periodísticas Argentinas (ADEPA), the largest association of press companies in Argentina.

How do most of them survive? From state advertising paid by public funds or from surreptitious contributions made by entrepreneurs seeking to impose their political agenda.

In 2011, the government earmarked 1,490m pesos (about US$300m) for public advertising, according to data from the private organisation Asociación Argentina de Presupuesto y Administración Financiera Pública, which analyses public finance and official government data in Argentina.

Being that the state is a vital advertiser, successive governments have attempted to put pressure on the critical press by withdrawing or cutting its publicity disbursements from certain newspapers. It happened, for example, during the administrations of Carlos Menem (1989-1999), with Página/12, and, for the administrations of Néstor Kirchner (2003-2007) and Cristina Kirchner (2007-present), with Perfil. In 2012, the owner of Perfil, Jorge Fontevecchia, succeeded in getting the Supreme Court to rule against the government for its discriminatory use of its advertising policies. The Supreme Court ordered the government to restore its advertising in Perfil. It did not conform.

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It was also Fontevecchia who, in 1998, publicly denounced Grupo Clarín, the largest media conglomerate in Argentina with about 44 per cent of the market, accusing it of cajoling major advertisers to avoid placing ads in his newspaper. He was not the first media entrepreneur to denounce Clarín, which, because of its dominant position in the market, was able to ‘punish’ advertisers that placed ads in other rival papers. In a practice openly criticised by its peers as ‘discriminating’, Clarín has been controlling the commercial ads market for years.

In Argentina, in many cases nobody knows who the owners of media organisations are, what their ownership structure is or even how big – or small – their sales and audience are. Official circulation figures are often pumped up and not to be trusted. This lack of transparency extends to media relationships with any kind of political influence or impact. Entrepreneurs routinely strike secret deals with government officials, including the president of the nation, resulting in financial or economic benefits on one side and favourable coverage on the other. It’s a win-win situation. These agreements, never admitted publicly, bring about self-censorship in newsrooms and are characterised by manipulation, concealment, and outright lies.

In a book published in 2011, I disclosed several of these secret meetings between Grupo Clarín’s CEO, Héctor Magnetto, other media organisations, President Néstor Kirchner and public officials. Both ranking government sources and Clarín executives provided evidence that pointed to a cosy relationship. One such meeting in 2008 between President Kirchner and Grupo Clarín, for example, resulted in the opportunity for the media conglomerate to acquire shares in Telecom, one of the country’s biggest telephone companies. In 2009, the negotiation failed and the group never acquired the shares. Kirchner, in a rare television interview on 24 February 2010, disclosed that he had discussed the deal with Magnetto.

Vortex of bitter battles

Things began to change in 2008, starting a long process that ended in a declaration of war. For the last four years, media organisations and journalists have been in the middle of a virulent public debate rarely seen in this country. It is a conflict that has permeated daily life, creating a national divide. It started when the Kirchners decided to wage war against Grupo Clarín and other newspapers, magazines, TV channels and cable networks, along with many other companies. Since then, media organisations have taken sides: for or against the government. Both sides depict the opponent as the personification of evil. Grupo Clarín, together with other national and international organisations, claims President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner is seeking to muzzle the independent press, stifle freedom of expression and put a stop to criticism. The government and its many supporters respond with the argument that it is the corporate media, especially Clarín, who are trying to hurt democracy and plurality.

The polarisation is such that it has become very difficult to find independent observers able to capture nuances and explain the situation in all its complexity. To understand it, you have to examine the recent history of the relationship between the press and those in power.

Until 1983, Argentina suffered several military dictatorships, during which more than 100 journalists were ‘disappeared’ (a euphemism for kidnapped and assassinated) and many magazines and newspapers were expropriated or closed down. Traditional newspapers, some of them centenarian, lived through these dictatorships without difficulties, or by agreeing to partner with military governments, supporting them enthusiastically in some cases – even backing their mass killings and disappearances. Some of those newspapers are still active today.

But it is also a country with a fertile journalistic tradition that has produced brilliant journalists and has become a model for reporting in the Spanish language throughout the world. In the 1990s, for example, we saw the birth of a vigorous investigative journalism wave that held the government and the political power to account. The turning point was the creation of Página/12, a newspaper that exposed rampant corruption in the public sector during the government of President Carlos Menem. It was a golden age for journalism.

All major polls revealed that journalism was regarded as the most prestigious national institution, above the Catholic Church, teachers and, of course, politicians.

This period also saw the beginnings of heavy concentration in media ownership. Powerful multimedia conglomerates were created, Grupo Clarín being the most powerful – economically and politically – of them all. Then came 2001 and an economic, political, social, cultural crisis – the worst in decades. Politicians, but also journalists and the media in general, were casualties of the crisis and lost public credibility. The government fell, Argentina defaulted on its foreign debt; there were riots, high unemployment and a proliferation of alternative currencies.

Néstor Kirchner came to power with little political legitimacy. He had lost in the first round against former president Carlos Menem, who, foreseeing a defeat in the second round, abandoned the race. The country was still in the middle of the great crisis. ‘They must all leave’ was the most popular slogan during 2001 and 2002, hinting at attitudes to foreign intervention.

Political parties were at their lowest levels of popularity since the return of democracy, without credible leaders or solid policies. Kirchner, like other presidents on the continent, decided to renew and revive politics. During both Néstor Kirchner and Cristina Kirchner’s administrations, the economy recovered. As in much of Latin America, the last ten years have been a period of extraordinary economic growth and prosperity for Argentina: during successive years, its GDP grew at a rate of nine percent, poverty fell from 57.5 to 20 percent and unemployment rates fell by 54 percent.

But the press did not recover.

During the presidential transition, before even taking office, Néstor Kirchner denounced the media publicly, stating that journalists were not independent: they had their own political and economic agendas. With this announcement, he drew a line between friends and foes. On one side he placed mainly the Clarín Group, with which he negotiated important agreements in private meetings, and on the other side he placed La Nación, a centenary, conservative daily Kirchner denounced for having supported the last military dictatorship.

But, in 2008, due to a series of political disagreements, the Kirchners split up with Clarín. By then, Cristina was the president. An open war commenced, in which key government officials, including the president and her husband, verbally attacked Clarín – ‘Clarín lies’, they said, calling it a ‘quasi-mafioso power’. The government, which for four years had given preferential treatment to Clarín, stopped talking to its journalists and executives. ‘Since 2008, the government has ordered its officials to cut off any contact with our journalists and to deny them access to public information’, Martín Etchevers, spokesman for Grupo Clarin, told me. The same had been done before to La Nación and this silence from those who traditionally provided official information sunk the paper. Clarín responded by becoming an anti-government newspaper.

The Kirchners also decided to damage Grupo Clarín’s economic interests in order to reduce its political influence and economic power. They withdrew their exclusive, multi-million dollar rights to broadcast football matches on television, initiated court cases to investigate their association with the last military dictatorship and managed to pass a media law that would force Grupo Clarín to get rid of most of its cable television licences, which represented more than 60 per cent of its income, as well as other assets.

Clarín refused to comply with the new media law and appealed to the courts, where a bloody battle continues to rage. Cristina Kirchner (Néstor died in 2010) seems determined to destroy Clarín, even if this is the last thing she does before leaving office in 2015. Clarín, its secret deals out in the open, has lost standing and political power.

The war has affected all media, which is now divided between those who oppose the government (Clarín, but also La Nación and Perfil, among others) and those who support it without question, small and medium newspapers and magazines and some important TV and radio stations controlled by opportunistic entrepreneurs who earn big profits from their association with those in power. Media outlets are either opponents or pro-government, with very little in between.

Today in Argentina, there is no state repression of freedom of speech, there is no censorship of the press. There is no need: the fact that journalists must align themselves on one side of the divide or the other speaks volumes about the country’s media environment.

Graciela Mochkofsky is the author of Timerman. El periodista que quiso ser parte del poder (1923–1999) (Sudamericana, 2003) and Pecado Original: Clarín, los Kirchners y la lucha por el poder (Planeta, 2011). She has investigated the relationship between the press and political powers in Argentina for 15 years.

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Mark Boardman/www.mark-boardman.com

Dear Nada,

I regard free speech as a fundamental good, the fullest extension of which is necessary for democratic life and for the development of other liberties. Others view speech as a luxury rather than as a necessity, or at least as merely one right among others, and not a particularly important one. Speech from this perspective needs to be restrained not as an exception but as the norm.

The answer to whether religious and cultural sensibilities should ever limit free expression depends upon which of these ways we think of free speech. For those, like me, who look upon free speech as a fundamental good, no degree of cultural or religious discomfort can be reason for censorship. There is no free speech without the ability to offendreligious and cultural sensibilities.

For those for whom free speech is more a luxury than a necessity, censorship is a vital tool in maintaining social peace and order. Perhaps the key argument made in defence of the idea of censorship to protect cultural and religious sensibilities is that speech must necessarily be less free in a plural society. In such a society, so the argument runs, we need to police public discourse about different cultures and beliefs both to minimise friction and to protect the dignity of individuals, particularly from minority communities. As the sociologist Tariq Modood has put it, “if people are to occupy the same political space without conflict, they mutually have to limit the extent to which they subject each others’ fundamental beliefs to criticism”.

I take the opposite view. It is precisely because we do live in a plural society that we need the fullest extension possible of free speech. In such societies it is both inevitable and important that people offend the sensibilities of others. Inevitable, because where different beliefs are deeply held, clashes are unavoidable. And they should be openly resolved, rather than suppressed in the name of “respect” or “tolerance”.

But more than this: the giving of offence is not just inevitable, but also important. Any kind of social change or social progress means offending some deeply-held sensibilities. Or to put it another way: “You can’t say that!” is all too often the response of those in power to having their power challenged. The notion that it is wrong to offend cultural or religious sensibilities suggests that certain beliefs are so important that they should be put beyond the possibility of being insulted or caricatured or even questioned. The importance of the principle of free speech is precisely that it provides a permanent challenge to the idea that some questions are beyond contention, and hence acts as a permanent challenge to authority. The right to “subject each others’ fundamental beliefs to criticism” is the bedrock of an open, diverse society, and the basis of promoting justice and liberties in such societies. Once we give up such a right we constrain our ability to challenge those in power, and therefore to challenge injustice.

The question we should ask ourselves, therefore, is not “should religious and cultural sensibilities ever limit free expression?” It is, rather, “should we ever allow religious and cultural sensibilities to limit our ability to challenge power and authority?”

Best wishes,

Kenan

Mark Boardman/www.mark-boardman.com

Dear Kenan,

I too regard free speech as a fundamental good and as necessary. On the surface, thus, the simple and direct answer to the question of whether religious and cultural sensibilities should ever limit free expression should be an unequivocal NO! However, the reality is that the question itself is problematic. While free expression, and let’s think of art in this specific case, will always push the limits and “reveal the hidden”, consideration and sensitivity, including religious and cultural sensibility, should not be inherently in opposition. By positioning it as such, the answer can only be reactive. I thus disagree with your argument.

A quick note on “censorship”. Yes, we all hate the word and find it very offensive. It is a word loaded with oppression, but the reality is that censorship in some form exists in every facet of life, personal and public. It is not that one needs to restrict speech in a plural society but that this plurality needs to find a peaceful way of co-existing with respect and acceptance, as much as possible — not tolerance; I personally abhor the word tolerance and find that it generally masks hatred and disdain. No belief is above criticism and nothing should limit our ability to challenge power and authority.

I suppose one needs to decide first the point of this criticism/free expression. Does it have a specific message or reason, and how best to deliver it — or is it simply someone’s personal free expression in the absolute? And if it is someone’s right to free expression, then why is it privileged above someone else’s right — religious and cultural sensibility being someone’s right to expression as well?

For example, and I will use art again, there is a problem when art/the artist is privileged as “genius”, with rights above other citizens — except not really, since the artist is subject to other limitations that may not be religious or cultural, like those of the tradition of expression, funding, law and so on. This is not to say that a religion should dictate expression. We should remember, though, that the marvel of what we call Islamic art was achieved within full respect of Islamic religious sensibilities, but also pushed the limits and critiqued simplicity in interpreting these sensibilities.

Perhaps my view here is less idealistic and more practical, but I see many unnecessary attacks on all sides that do not accomplish anything other than insult and inflame. All I’m saying is that expression is always achieved through negotiations, including limitations.

All the best,

Nada

Dear Nada,

I’m afraid that I was no clearer at the end of your letter than I was at the beginning about your actual stance on free speech. You say you ‘regard free speech as a fundamental good’ and that the answer to “whether religious and cultural sensibilities should ever limit free expression should be an unequivocal NO!”  You then, however, go on seemingly to qualify that unequivocal stance but without actually specifying what it is that you wish to qualify. Where should the line be drawn when it comes to the issue of what is and is not legitimate free speech? Who should draw that line? And on what basis? These are the critical questions that need answering. You write: “It is not that one needs to restrict speech in a plural society but that this plurality needs to find a peaceful way of co-existing with respect and acceptance”. It’s a wonderful sentiment, but what does it actually mean in practice? Should Salman Rushdie not have written The Satanic Verses so that he could find “a peaceful way of coexisting with respect and acceptance”? Was the Birmingham Rep right to drop Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s play Behzti after protests from Sikhs? Should Jerry Springer: The Opera ever have been staged (or broadcast)?

You suggest that “one needs to decide first the point of this criticism/free expression. Does it have a specific message or reason, and how best to deliver it — or is it simply someone’s personal free expression in the absolute?” Again, I am unclear as to the point you’re making here. Are you suggesting here that speech is only legitimate if it has “a specific message or reason”? If so,who decides whether it does? During the controversy over The Satanic Verses, the philosopher Shabbir Akhtar distinguished between “sound historical criticism” and “scurrilously imaginative writing”, and insisted that Rushdie’s novel fell on the wrong side of the line. Do you agree with him? If not, why not? You ask: “If it is someone’s right to free expression, then why is it privileged above someone else’s right — religious and cultural sensibility being someone’s right to expression as well?”  This seems to me a meaningless question. A “sensibility” is not a “right”, still less a “right to expression”. If your point is that all people, whatever their religious or cultural beliefs, should have the right to express those beliefs, then I agree with you. That is the core of my argument. What they do not have is the “right” to prevent anybody expressing their views because those views might offend their “sensibilities”.

A final point: to defend the right of X to speak as he or she wishes is not the same as defending the wisdom of X using speech in a particular fashion, still less the same as defending the content of his or her speech. Take, for instance, The Innocence of Muslims, the risibly crude and bigoted anti-Muslim video that provoked so much controversy and violence last year. I would defend the right of such a film to be made. But I would also question the wisdom of making it, and would strongly challenge the sentiments expressed in it. There is a distinction to be drawn, in other words, between the right to something and the wisdom of exercising that right in particular ways. It is a distinction that critics of free speech too often fail to understand.

Best,

Kenan

Dear Kenan,

Nicely said! I believe we are ultimately saying the same thing. It is that “distinction” that you outline in your last paragraph that I call a negotiation between all sides, cultures, etc. My answer is not clear because the issue is not simple! I am saying that it is not a black and white binary divide nor can one “draw a line”. And yes, “who should draw that line? and on what basis?” is critical and essential. I believe that should be reached through negotiation. The “wisdom” of something to exist is as important as its right to exist. But there is also the question of responsibility. Free speech cannot be “inherently good” or bad. The person who utters that speech must claim responsibility for its use and effects. The examples you cite above are not all equal. Yes, they all have the right to exist. But let’s think a bit about the Danish cartoons about the Prophet Mohammed as another example. Were they not an attack aimed to inflame Muslim communities? Was it not part of Islamophobia?

Was the aim not to ridicule and play off people’s fears and prejudices? How were they a critique of Islam? What was the point? It is not that “it is morally unacceptable to cause offence to other cultures” as you once said, but the how and why are just as important as the right to cause that offence. I agree with you that the fear of consequences has become a limitation, but that isperhaps because free speech has been abused.

Perhaps I am looking at this from a different point of view. As an educator, I often face the situation, equally here in the US and in the Middle East, of how to argue a point that has become of specific cultural/religious/political sensitivity to my students. If I offend them here, they will stop listening; in the Middle East, I will not be allowed to continue. What would I gain by doing that? By negotiation I test the limits and push gently. At least in academia, I think we are at a point where we have to teach our students to not get offended by an opposing opinion and to be able to accept various opinions and to be able to accept criticism. I don’t think I can achieve that through shock alone!

Best, Nada

Kenan Malik is a writer and broadcaster. His latest book is From Fatwa to Jihad: The Rushdie Affair and its Legacy (Atlantic Books)

Nada Shabout is associate professor of art education and art history at the University of North Texas and director of the Contemporary Arab and Muslim Cultural Studies Institute

This article appears in Fallout: free speech and the economic crisis. Click here for subscription options and more.

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