Who is 2022’s Tyrant of the Year?

At the end of every year, Index on Censorship launches a campaign to focus attention on human rights defenders, dissidents, artists and journalists who have been in the news headlines because their freedom of expression has been suppressed during the past twelve months. As well as this we focus on the authoritarian leaders who have been silencing their opponents.

Last year, we asked for your help in identifying 2021’s Tyrant of the Year and you responded in your thousands. The 2021 winner, way ahead of a crowded field, was Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdogan, followed by China’s Xi Jinping and Syria’s Bashar al-Assad .

The polls are now open for the title of 2022 Tyrant of the Year and we are focusing on 12 leaders from around the globe who have done more during the past 12 months than other despots to win this dubious accolade.

Click on those in our rogues’ gallery below to find out why the Index on Censorship team believe each one should be named Tyrant of the Year and then click on the form at the bottom of those pages to cast your vote. The closing date is Monday 9 January 2023.

 

 

 

VOTING HAS NOW CLOSED. SEE WHO YOU VOTED AS TYRANT OF THE YEAR 2022 HERE.

Tyrant of the year 2022: Andrés Manuel López Obrador, Mexico

“He who has nothing to hide, has nothing to fear”. These were the words uttered by the Mexican president, Andrés Manuel López Obrador in a February 2022 press conference held the day after Heber López Vásquez, founder and director of the digital news outlets NoticiasWeb and RCP Noticias, was shot and killed. However this was not a call for greater transparency and action to respond to the ever-climbing rate of journalist murders in Mexico. He was publishing what he alleged were the confidential financial details of leading journalist, Carlos Loret de Mola, in response to the journalist’s reporting.

“This act of intimidation and the abuse of the presidential office would be egregious in any circumstance. However In Mexico, against a backdrop of rampant impunity and one of the worst track records for the safety of journalists, it is far worse than that,” says Index’s policy and campaigns officer Nik Williams. “According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, 151 journalists and press workers have been killed in Mexico since 1992. The causes of these murders are complex; but a messy tangle of narco-politics, organised crime, corrupt police and state officials and runaway impunity has made Mexico one of the most dangerous locations to be a journalist outside a warzone. In fact, so far in 2022, Mexico is second only to Ukraine for the number of journalists killed.

Since Obrador only came to power in 2018, it would be overly-simplistic to lay this solely at his feet. However, according to Article 19, attacks on the press have increased by 85% since he took power, with every single Mexican state witnessing such incidents for the first time in 2021.

When there is a culture of impunity and the devaluing of journalists, the scene is set for violence. It is this erosion of the civic fabric that makes Article 19’s director for Mexico and Central America: “His [Obrador’s] speech causes other political actors to replicate his attacks. These actors feel empowered and allowed to attack in the face of a narrative that presents the press as an adversary. We are in a war speech, where the enemy must be annihilated.”

After publicly leaking Carlos Loret de Mola’s alleged salary and potentially violating Article 16 of the Mexican Constitution in the process, Obrador labelled journalists who are critical of him as “thugs, mercenaries, sellouts” and “the real mafia.” This framing establishes a false and dangerous parallel between the free press and criminal enterprises, further emboldening threats that can soon escalate to violence.

Impunity, the like of which is found in Mexico, requires significant and proactive action to address. It is not something that will just right itself when no one is looking. It requires a commitment to the value of free expression. It requires action. According to Human Rights Watch, “[o]f the 105 investigations into killings of journalists conducted by the federal Special Prosecutor for Crimes Against Freedom of Expression (Feadle), since its creation in 2010, just six have led to homicide convictions.” What good is a dedicated prosecutor if the rate of convictions is so low? Not only is this a failure to the family, friends and colleagues of the murdered journalists whose killings are being investigated by Feadle, this is a signal to those seeking to silence critical reporting: you can continue uninterrupted and undisturbed. This weakening of the mechanisms by which journalists can be protected is also seen in the 2020 decision of the Mexican Congress and supported by Obrador, to eliminate the independent funding that supported the Federal Mechanism for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders and Journalists. Now the mechanism is dependent on the Interior Ministry to pay for protection measures, but funds have been consistently cut. Leading media freedom organisations and 14 members of US Congress have raised concerns about this, seemingly to no avail.

Williams says: “What Obrador sees as a war against the elites, we see as a war against journalists, and ultimately free expression. Without Obrador stepping forward and addressing the ingrained climate of fear and impunity, instead of fixating on those who report on uncomfortable facts, Mexican journalists will remain stuck in the crosshairs of those seeking their silence.”

Mexican journalists are still being failed

Murdered journalists in Mexico

People march in the streets of Mexico to protest the death of journalist and photographer Rubén Espinosa, killed in Mexico City in 2015. Photo: Eneasmx/wikimedia commons

Mexico has long been a ruthless place for journalists and press freedom. According to the international human rights organisation Article 19, 156 journalists have been murdered in Mexico since 2000. Of the total, 144 were men and 12 were women. In April 2017, the journalist Duncan Tucker revealed in Index on Censorship magazine that it was really common for the newsrooms of local media to have drug cartel spies and informants infiltrated as staff members. Threats from corrupt government officials were also a daily problem for the Mexican press.

“Without a drastic change, Mexico and its journalists will face an even bleaker future,” Tucker wrote. Sadly, five years on this drastic change has not arrived in Mexico. Eleven journalists have lost their lives so far this year in the country due to their work. The most recent example is Juan Arjón López, who was killed with a blow to his head in the state of Sonora, in August.

One of the most dangerous regions for journalists in Mexico is the state of Veracruz: between December 2010 and November 2016, when Javier Duarte was governor of the state, 18 journalists were killed. A well-known case was the death of Regina Martínez Pérez, a journalist who investigated corruption in Veracruz and its connection with drug cartels. Her body was found in her flat on 28 April 2012, strangled to death. Four years later, Duarte resigned as governor following a series of corruption scandals, which led to a nine-year sentence in jail.

To understand more about this situation, Index talked to Mexican journalist Témoris Grecko, who currently lives in Mexico City and is a columnist for Aristegui Notícias, and a contributor to other media including Milenio Daily, La Octava TV and Rompeciento TV. In 2020 Grecko’s book, Killing the Story: Journalists risking their lives to uncover the truth in Mexico, was published.

Drug cartels seem to be a massive threat across Mexico. What is the relationship between them and the government or public officials?

The first thing I’d like to point out is that there is a bit of a myth regarding narco-trafficking in Mexico. Of course, it exists and there are many criminal gangs, but it’s not to be blamed for everything and that’s what happens. If a woman is killed or a journalist is killed, or something terrible happens, you can’t only blame the narco-trafficking and that’s it. And the narcos serve to mask many other activities. Many of the gangs are secondarily dedicated to narco-trafficking. Maybe they are in different kinds of smuggling, or they are doing illegal logging. Narcos are believed to be opposed to the government, but the real international mafias are in many governments, criminal gangs are usually related to people who work in the government, either in the Mexican government or the American. And in this way, the narcos need to be blamed for what happens to journalists of course, but organisations that are working with freedom of speech, such as Reporters Without Borders (RSF) and the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), have collected data that shows that most aggressions are coming from official figures, maybe from politicians, political parties, police, the army or other authorities.

What kind of story can be the most dangerous one for journalists to work on?

There is crime-related journalism. But also, journalists who are exposing activities from mega companies. Maybe mining or logging companies or companies who are doing labour exploitation, and of course activities of politicians. For instance, we suspect Rubén Espinosa [who worked for the investigative magazine Proseco], a photographer murdered in 2015 in Mexico City, was killed by people linked to the then governor of the state of Veracruz, Javier Duarte. And this is because he felt very uncomfortable with some of the pictures that Rubén had published, that didn’t show Duarte in the life he wanted to be seen [the best example is a photo that Espinosa took for the left-wing news magazine Proceso, which showed Duarte’s white shirt with his name embroidered on it and a police cap written “Governor”]. And there have been journalists obviously murdered by criminal gangs, such as Javier Valdez [who became known for covering drug cartels], killed in 2017 in the state of Sinaloa.

Is there a particular region in Mexico that you consider the most dangerous for journalists?

By far the state of Veracruz. Two-thirds of the killings have happened there since 2010 and then there are other very dangerous states, such as Sinaloa, Guajaca and Tamaulipas. But sometimes it is not only about killings, but other types of aggression. For instance, maybe in the state of Tamaulipas they don’t kill so many journalists, but they are regularly beaten up or threatened. Persecuted somehow. Tamaulipas is the best example of what we call a silence zone. A place where politicians and criminal gangs control the news. They have people that we call ‘enlaces, who work as press officers for these powerful people. And they are in touch with the journalists to tell them what can be published and what cannot. And also they suggest, which is actually an imposition, some news or photographs that they want to see published.

Have you ever been threatened due to your work as a journalist in Mexico City?

Not in Mexico. While working in the Middle East, Africa and Asia, yes [Grecko has covered conflicts in places like Libya, Egypt, Iran, Syria, Palestine, Congo and The Phillippines], but not in Mexico.

How do you manage to keep yourself safe in this ruthless environment?

First of all, there is a massive difference between living in the capital and other states. With my team and my crew, when we go to work in risky states, we have security protocols which include making sure our sources are safe, using secure communication channels, and studying entry and exit ways. We monitor each other. We try to spend the least possible time there. We don’t really tell anyone what we are doing. We are also very careful in trying to keep our sources safe. And in my case, as a more public person, exposure should be a bit of a shield to protect, even if it’s never enough.           

What do you believe could be done to overcome this situation and make Mexico a safer place for journalists?

There are different initiatives. For twelve years we’ve had a mechanism for the protection of human rights defenders and journalists [called The Special Prosecutor For Attention to Crimes Committed against Freedom of Expression, or Feadle in Spanish, it was created in 2010 to tackle the increase in attacks, particularly murders, against journalists and its measures have included panic buttons for threatened journalists, installed security cameras at their homes and bodyguards in extreme situations]. This has saved some lives and protected some people, but also has had very resounding failures. Also, the problem with this mechanism is that it shouldn’t exist. It is needed due to Mexican justice’s failure to take the aggressors of journalists to accountability. What we really need is that the justice system and prosecutors really go after those who are committing these aggressions, and these crimes and take them to jail. I think that less than 1% of crimes committed against journalists in Mexico are actually punished, meaning that the potential aggressors have no deterrent. And they know that they can get away with it. This is something that encourages them to perpetrate these crimes. The Special Prosecutor For Attention to Crimes Committed against Freedom of Expression and its office is more of a problem for us than a help. They rarely do their most basic work. Only when there’s great public or political interest putting pressure on them. They tend to dismiss the journalistic work of a victim as a cause of the crime and tend to suggest sexual or romantic causes instead. They need to remove everyone from the head of the Office and try to rebuild it from scratch. And put people there who are professional and who really want to do their jobs. What they are actually doing is making life more difficult for journalists.

Have you ever thought of leaving the country for good?

I’ve lived in several countries due to work. But no, I don’t feel personally threatened in Mexico. I could leave at any time, but this is not something that obscures my daily life. I’m fine with that. In Mexico City journalists have a privilege. It shouldn’t be like this, but we have the privilege of security. There are other things threatening us here, other ways of hurting us here. Photographers who cover street protests, for example, have a degree of risk. But we have to use this privilege to focus on the journalists working in risky and dangerous areas. In this century in which so many journalists have been killed in Mexico, only one was in Mexico City [Rubén Espinosa], but it was a crime linked to the state of Veracruz. He came to Mexico City to find refuge here, but sadly they came after him.

Contents – Index at 50: The battles won, lost and currently raging

The spring issue of Index magazine is special. We are celebrating 50 years of history and to such a milestone we’ve decided to look back at the thorny path that brought us here.

Editors from our five decades of life have accepted our invitation to think over their time at Index, while we’ve chosen pieces from important moments that truly tell our diverse and abundant trajectory.

Susan McKay has revisited an article about the contentious role of the BBC in Northern Ireland published in our first issue, and compares it to today’s reality.

Martin Bright does a brilliant job and reveals fascinating details on Index origin story, which you shouldn’t miss.

Index at 50, by Jemimah Steinfeld: How Index has lived up to Stephen Spender’s founding manifesto over five decades of the magazine.

The Index: Free expression around the world today: the inspiring voices, the people who have been imprisoned and the trends, legislation and technology which are causing concern.

“Special report: Index on Censorship at 50”][vc_column_text]Dissidents, spies and the lies that came in from the cold, by Martin Bright: The story of Index’s origins is caught up in the Cold War – and as exciting

Sound and fury at BBC ‘bias’, by Susan McKay: The way Northern Ireland is reported continues to divide, 50 years on.

How do you find 50 years of censorship, by Htein Lin: The distinguished artist from Myanmar paints a canvas exclusively for our anniversary.

Humpty Dumpty has maybe had the last word, by Sir Tom Stoppard: Identity politics has thrown up a new phenonemon, an intolerance between individuals.

The article that tore Turkey apart, by Kaya Genç: Elif Shafak and Ece Temulkuran reflect on an Index article that the nation.

Of course it’s not appropriate – it’s satire, by Natasha Joseph: The Dame Edna of South Africa on beating apartheid’s censors.

The staged suicided that haunts Brazil, by Guilherme Osinski: Vladimir Herzog was murdered in 1975. Years on his family await answers – and an apology.

Greece haunted by spectre of the past, by Tony Rigopoulos: Decades after the colonels, Greece’s media is under attack.

Ugandans still wait for life to turn sweet, by Issa Sikiti da Silva: Hopes were high after Idi Amin. Then came Museveni …People in Kampala talk about their
problems with the regime.

How much distance from Mao? By Rana Mitter: The Cultural Revolution ended; censorship did not.

Climate science is still being silenced, by Margaret Atwood: The acclaimed writer on the fiercest free speech battle of the day.

God’s gift to who? By Charlie Smith: A 2006 prediction that the internet would change China for the better has come to pass.

50 tech milestones of the past 50 years, by Mark Frary: Expert voices and a long-view of the innovations that changed the free speech landscape.

Censoring the net is not the answer, but… By Vint Cerf: One of the godfathers of the internet reflects on what went right and what went wrong.[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”Five decades in review”][vc_column_text]An arresting start, by Michael Scammell: The first editor of Index recounts being detained in Moscow.

The clockwork show: Under the Greek colonels, being out of jail didn’t mean being free.

Two letters, by Kurt Vonnegut: His books were banned and burned.

Winning friends, making enemies, influencing people, by Philip Spender: Index found its stride in the 1980s. Governments took note.

The nurse and the poet, by Karel Kyncl: An English nurse and the first Czech ‘non-person’.

Tuning in to revolution, by Jane McIntosh: In revolutionary Latin America, radio set the rules.

‘Animal can’t dash me human rights’, by Fela Kuti: Why the king of Afrobeat scared Nigeria’s regime.

Why should music be censorable, by Yehudi Menuhin: The violinist laid down his own rules – about muzak.

The snake sheds its skin, by Judith Vidal-Hall: A post-USSR world order didn’t bring desired freedoms.

Close-up of death, by Slavenka Drakulic: We said ‘never again’ but didn’t live up to it in Bosnia. Instead we just filmed it.

Bosnia on my mind, by Salman Rushdie: Did the world look away because it was Muslims?

Laughing in Rwanda, by François Vinsot: After the genocide, laughter was the tonic.

The fatwa made publishers lose their nerve, by Jo Glanville: Long after the Rushdie aff air, Index’s editor felt the pinch.

Standing alone, by Anna Politkovskaya: Chechnya by the fearless journalist later murdered.

Fortress America, by Rubén Martínez: A report from the Mexican border in a post 9/11 USA.

Stripsearch, by Martin Rowson: The thing about the Human Rights Act …

Conspiracy of silence, by Al Weiwei: Saying the devastation of the Sichuan earthquake was partly manmade was not welcome.

To better days, by Rachael Jolley: The hope that kept the light burning during her editorship.

Plays, protests and the censor’s pencil, by Simon Callow: How Shakespeare fell foul of dictators and monarchs. Plus: Katherine E McClusky.

The enemies of those people, by Nina Khrushcheva: Khrushchev’s greatgranddaughter on growing up in the Soviet Union and her fears for the US press.

We’re not scared of these things, by Miriam Grace A Go: Trouble for Philippine
journalists.

Windows on the world, by Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe and Golrokh Ebrahimi Iraee: Poems from Iran by two political prisoners.

Beijing’s fearless foe with God on his side, by Jimmy Lai: Letters from prison by the Hong Kong publisher and activist.

We should not be put up for sale, by Aishwarya Jagani: Two Muslim women in India on being ‘auctioned’ online.

Cartoon, by Ben Jennings: Liberty for who?

Amin’s awful story is much more than popcorn for the eyes, by Jemimah Steinfeld: Interview with the director of Flee, a film about an Afghan refugee’s flight and exile.

Women defy gunmen in fight for justice, by Témoris Grecko: Relatives of murdered Mexican journalist in brave campaign.

Chaos censorship, by John Sweeney: Putin’s war on truth, from the Ukraine frontline.

In defence of the unreasonable, by Ziyad Marar: The reasons behind the need
to be unreasonable.

We walk a very thin line when we report ‘us and them’, by Emily Couch: Reverting to stereotypes when reporting on non-Western countries merely aids dictators.

It’s time to put down the detached watchdog, by Fréderike Geerdink: Western newsrooms are failing to hold power to account.

A light in the dark, by Trevor Philips: Index’s Chair reflects on some of the magazine’s achievements.

Our work here is far from done, by Ruth Smeeth: Our CEO says Index will carry on fighting for the next 50 years.

In vodka veritas, by Nick Harkaway and Jemimah Steinfeld: The author talks about Anya’s Bible, his new story inspired by early Index and Moscow bars.

A ghost-written tale of love, by Ariel Dorfman and Jemimah Steinfeld: The novelist tells the editor of Index about his new short story, Mumtaz, which we publish.

‘Threats will not silence me’, by Bilal Ahmad Pandow and Madhosh Balhami: A Kashmiri poet talks about his 30 years of resistance.

A classic case of cancel culture, by Marc Nash: Remember Socrates’ downfall.