News in India is being erased from the internet

When journalist Afraaz Hussain (not his real name) tried to revisit a series of investigative reports he had filed on human rights abuses in Indian-administered Kashmir, he was stunned to find the links broken and the pages wiped clean. Some of his most critical stories – on government surveillance, military misconduct and civil unrest – had vanished without explanation.

“A lot of my work from the region is totally missing,” said Hussain, who asked that his name be changed to protect his identity. “Entire archives of newspapers before 2019 are missing. Stories critical of the government have disappeared.”

Apart from losing most of his investigative work, which he first noticed had vanished around two years ago, Hussain says he is facing police intimidation and a ban on his travel outside the country.

Many reporters and editors based in India say media outlets are deliberately erasing or hiding their work amid what they describe as growing pressure from the Indian government to limit reporting critical of its policies. Stories that once documented surveillance, hate crimes and rights abuses are now vanishing from digital archives without explanation.

The government has also, in many cases, explicitly ordered the takedown of journalistic pieces that highlight alleged human rights abuses. For instance, last year, India’s Ministry of Information and Broadcasting directed a magazine to remove an article detailing accusations of torture and extrajudicial killing by the Indian Army in the Jammu region.

This is true not only for the conflict-torn Indian-administered Kashmir and Jammu regions, even if it may have started there. Across India, a quiet purge of digital content is underway. News stories critical of the government are being erased – scrubbed from websites, replaced with 404 errors or removed after veiled legal threats. Journalists and activists call it a “digital vanishing act” that’s increasingly common in the country’s shrinking press freedom landscape.

“404 journalism” is becoming the norm

Veteran journalist and author Ruben Banerjee calls it “404 journalism”.

“You click on a link and the story’s just not there anymore,” Banerjee told Index. “It’s becoming a new genre of journalism in India – stories that once were, but are now memory.”

Banerjee was ousted from Outlook Magazine in 2021, a move he believes is in part linked to the magazine publishing a series of stories critical of the Modi government which allegedly invited political pressure on the publication.

Banerjee cited daily Hindustan Times’ now-defunct Hate Tracker as one of many casualties of “404 journalism”. The tracker, which meticulously documented hate crimes across India, disappeared from the outlet’s website with no public notice or editorial clarification.

“Nobody disputed its facts,” he said. “But the political sensitivity was enough to have it pulled.”

The takedown coincided with the exit of editor Bobby Ghosh. The Wire reported that Prime Minister Narendra Modi had a personal meeting with the publication’s proprietor, Shobhana Bhartia, in the months before Ghosh’s departure, and government officials raised objections about Ghosh’s editorial decisions.

In some cases, journalists themselves are requesting takedowns, driven by fear rather than falsehoods.

“Some are scared because their old work is now being used against them,” Banerjee said. “But that is not journalism. That is capitulation.”

The erasure of digital archives is not new, but its scale and coordination appear unprecedented. In Kashmir, where Hussain worked as a correspondent for multiple outlets, entire archives were purged following the Indian government’s 2019 abrogation of Article 370, which revoked the region’s special status.

“Most English, Urdu and vernacular newspapers had their archives wiped clean,” Hussain said. “It is not like a few pieces were removed, it is an institutional erasure.”

These deletions, he said, targeted some of the most impactful journalism on record. “We spent weeks on those investigations. These were exclusive stories on grave issues. When that disappears, you are erasing the rough draft of history.”

The implications are serious.

“For students, researchers, even citizens trying to trace how events unfolded, that material is gone,” said Maariyah Siddique, a research scholar at Aliah University, in the state of West Bengal. “The government’s intention is clear: to intimidate journalists, activists and whistleblowers, reminding them of the government’s omnipresence.”

She added: “Even the government knows that in the digital age, information once posted online cannot really disappear, but such tactics are directed at creating long-term impacts [rather] than short term. It is more mental and psychological than physical intimidation of journalists.”

This subtle form of pressure, explained Siddique, is not only about erasing content but also about instilling a sense of vulnerability among journalists.

“Sometimes government action is simply meant to warn the concerned that their work is being heard and they will be chased next,” she said.

The chilling effect

The government’s legal toolkit also plays a role. A notable example is the 2022 arrest of Kashmiri PhD scholar Abdul Aala Fazili for an article he wrote in 2011. Since then, media houses and their contributors have grown more wary. Several editors told Index that authors and scholars now request takedowns of old pieces, fearing their writing could be used against them.

“What’s worrying,” said Banerjee, “is that many media organisations don’t wait for official orders. They self-censor, just to avoid displeasing the powers that be.”

The consequences go beyond deletion. The constant fear of retaliation has created a culture of self-censorship and editorial paranoia.

“No one even pitches stories critical of the government anymore,” said Qazi Zaid, an editor with Free Press Kashmir, one of the few independent media houses in the region. “We are walking on eggshells with every story. Many authors and journalists ask us to take their articles down because they think it is affecting their passport applications or fellowships.”

Experts say erasure of archives is not just about control but “erasing the past” to influence the future.

“When journalism disappears, so does accountability,” said Siddique. “Every post, every report, every fact contributes to an informed electorate. Erasing it is an act of political manipulation.”

Journalistic freedom in India has steadily declined in recent years, slipping to 151 out of 180 countries in the latest Reporters Without Borders (RSF) press freedom index. Journalists say the vanishing archives are just one more indicator of this decline.

“Press freedom is being eroded like never before,” said Hussain. “And now, it is not just what you can’t say, it is also what you did say, that gets you in trouble.”

For journalists and media experts, it is a moment of reckoning.

“You start reporting, knowing the risks,” said Siddique. “But this erasure… it is the last blow. If your work isn’t going to survive, what’s the point of doing it at all?”

The week in free expression: 26 April-2 May 2025

In the age of online information, it can feel harder than ever to stay informed. As we get bombarded with news from all angles, important stories can easily pass us by. To help you cut through the noise, every Friday Index will publish a weekly news roundup of some of the key stories covering censorship and free expression from the past seven days. This week, we cover the arrest of a prominent Palestinian journalist, and how the Court of Appeal struck down anti-protest legislation in the UK.

Press freedom infringed: Prominent Palestinian journalist detained by Israeli forces in West Bank

On Tuesday morning, Palestinian journalist Ali Al-Samoudi was arrested by Israeli forces in the city of Jenin in the northern West Bank during a raid on his son’s home. Israeli officials stated that he was suspected of the “transfer of funds” to a terrorist organisation – a claim made with no evidence, and that Al-Samoudi’s family strongly denies. The arrest has also been condemned by the Palestinian Journalists’ Syndicate.

Arbitrary punishment for Palestinian journalists has become a recurring theme; Reporters Without Borders has named Palestine as “the world’s most dangerous state for journalists”. Nearly 200 Palestinian journalists have been killed in Gaza since the 7 October 2023 Hamas attacks and ensuing Israel-Hamas war, and the Committee to Protect Journalists reports that at least 85 journalists have been arrested in Gaza and the West Bank.

Al-Samoudi has been targeted before; in May 2022, he was working near the Jenin refugee camp when Israeli forces shot and injured him, killing his colleague Palestinian-American journalist Shireen Abu-Akleh in the same attack. Over his career, Al-Samoudi has never faced accusations of terrorist affiliation, according to his family. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) has reportedly said that he has now been transferred to Israeli security forces “for further treatment”.

The right to protest: UK anti-protest law defeated in the Court of Appeal

Protest rights have been under attack across the globe in recent years, and some of the most notable anti-protest legislation (the Public Order Act 2023) has been passed in the UK. This has drawn condemnation from human rights groups as they have made it more difficult to demonstrate within the bounds of the law, and have given the police more power to disrupt peaceful protest.

But on Friday 2 May, the London Court of Appeal dealt a blow to the ambitions of the UK Government to crack down on protests by agreeing with last year’s High Court ruling that anti-protest regulation was made unlawfully under the former Conservative government. The government appealed against this, but the Court of Appeal has now dismissed that appeal.

Human rights group Liberty, which initially challenged the anti-protest regulation, has described the decision as “a huge victory for democracy”. 

Former Home Secretary Suella Braverman had tabled amendments to the Public Order Act 2023 using so-called Henry VIII powers to lower the threshold at which police could restrict protests to “more than minor” levels of disruption – a move which the High Court ruled as unlawful in May 2024. 

Akiko Hart, director of Liberty, has stated that this ruling should serve as a “wake-up call” for Labour, who so far in its tenure in government have backed many of the same anti-protest laws as the Conservatives.

Attackers exposed: Kenyan government under fire after documentary investigates killing of protesters

On Monday, BBC Africa Eye released a documentary exposé that detailed how in June 2024 Kenyan security forces shot and killed three unarmed anti-tax protesters who were demonstrating against the Kenyan Government’s controversial finance bill

According to the exposé, the protesters were posing no threat to the police officers at the time of the incident, and the BBC’s investigators claim they have identified the individuals who fired shots into the crowd.

The exposé has renewed calls for justice to be served to those officers who carried out the killings, with human rights organisations such as Amnesty International and the Kenya Human Rights Commission putting pressure on the Kenyan government to follow up on the BBC’s findings and ensure the identified officers “face the law”.

Government officials have been split on the documentary; a spokesperson called the documentary “one-sided”, and one legislator even called for the BBC to be banned in Kenya – while opposition politicians have largely been supportive of the exposé’s findings, with the main opposition coalition stating that the “execution of peaceful protesters was premeditated and sanctioned at the highest levels”.

Four years on: Pro-democracy lawmakers released from prison in Hong Kong

In 2021, the Hong Kong 47 were charged under a national security law imposed by the Chinese government. The 47 were made up of prominent pro-democracy campaigners, councillors and legislators in the city, accused of attempting to overthrow the government by holding an unofficial “primary” to pick opposition candidates in local elections. 

The national security law was brought into effect in response to the wave of pro-democracy protests that swept across Hong Kong in 2019. Up to two million people took to the streets to protest peacefully; this was met with batons, tear gas, pepper spray, rubber bullets and water cannons by the Hong Kong police.

It wasn’t until November 2024 that the campaigners were sentenced and jailed; sentences ranged between four and 10 years, with many of the Hong Kong 47 having been imprisoned since their initial arrest in 2021. The jail sentences have been widely condemned by democratic nations.

But this week, on Tuesday 29 April 2025, the first wave of activists were released from prison. Four individuals, including prominent opposition politician Claudia Mo, were among those imprisoned since 2021, and this was taken into consideration for their sentence – after more than four years behind bars, they have been set free.

Military-level punishment: Ugandan president accused of sending dissenters to military court

Opposition leaders in Uganda have accused Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni of silencing political dissenters and opposition by trying them before military courts rather than civilian courts.

This practice was attempted against opposition politician Kizza Besigye last year – he was abducted in Kenya in November and tried before a military tribunal for treason. Besigye, 68, underwent a 10-day hunger strike in protest at his detention, before a ruling by the Supreme Court demanded that his trial be moved to a civilian court. The landmark ruling found that trying civilians in military courts was unconstitutional, and the Supreme Court ordered all such cases to be transferred. If Besigye, 68, is found guilty of treason, he could be sentenced to death.

While Besigye’s case was eventually moved to a civilian court, Museveni has not been deterred. The government is attempting to push through a law allowing civilians to be tried in military courts. Despite its current illegality, the government has continually weaponised these courts to abuse political opponents, such as supporters of the National Unity Platform (NUP), led by popular opposition politician Bobi Wine (Robert Kyagulanyi). According to Amnesty international, more than 1,000 civilians have been unlawfully convicted in military courts in Uganda since 2002.

In Mexico and Honduras, state agents target journalists while governments claim to protect them

This article was commissioned and first published by The Conversation – the news, science and arts website written entirely by academics. You can read the original version here.

Humberto Padgett was reporting on the effects of drought in Cuitzeo, a rural area of central Mexico, when his car was intercepted by armed men on September 13 2024. They threatened him and stole the car, his identity papers and work equipment, including two bullet-proof jackets.

Padgett, a Mexican investigative journalist and author, was reporting on Mexico’s growing environmental worries for national talk radio station Radio Fórmula. It proved to be his last assignment for the station. Two days later, he tweeted:

“Today I’m leaving journalism indefinitely. The losses I’ve suffered, the harassment and threats my family and I have endured, and the neglect I’ve faced have forced me to give up after 26 years of work. Thank you and good luck.”

Padgett made this decision despite the fact he, like many other journalists in Mexico, has been enrolled in a government protection scheme for years – the Protection Mechanism for Journalists and Human Rights Defenders, set up in 2012. Several other Latin American countries have similar protection programmes, including Honduras since 2015.

These programmes offer journalists measures such as panic buttons and emergency phone alerts, police or private security patrols, and security cameras and alarm systems for their homes and offices. Some are provided with bodyguards – at times, Padgett has received 24-hour protection.

In Honduras, reporter Wendy Funes, founder of the online news site RI, was given a police bodyguard after being threatened while covering an extortion trial that linked the Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13), an international criminal gang, with the Honduran government of former president Juan Orlando Hernández, who is now serving a 45-year prison sentence in the US for drug trafficking and arms offences.

Yet even once journalists are enrolled in these government protection schemes, the attacks and threats continue. Shockingly, many come from state employees who, in both Mexico and Honduras, are thought to be responsible for almost half of all attacks on journalists. But the prospect of punishment is remote: at least 90% of attacks on journalists go unprosecuted and unpunished, meaning there is little deterrent for committing these crimes.

Both Mexico and Honduras currently have leftwing governments which have promised to protect journalists, following a long history of crimes against media professionals in both countries. Yet the risk to journalists posed by the state has worsened in recent years amid increasing use of spyware, online smear campaigns, and rising levels of anti-media rhetoric.

Journalists perceived as critical of the leadership are regularly accused of being corrupt, in the pay of foreign governments, and putting out fake news. Donald Trump’s vocal criticism of mainstream media since returning to power in the US is likely to have encouraged this anti-media hostility in Mexico and Honduras, as elsewhere in the world.

Many journalists there have developed strategies for self-protection, including setting up NGOs that support colleagues at risk. But while they are doing journalism in ways that make reporting safer, their work has been further threatened by the abrupt suspension of USAID and other US grants, which is heightening the dangers faced by journalists in Latin America and around the world.

Threats from the state

When I tell people about my research into how journalists in Latin America deal with the relentless violence and impunity, their first question is usually: “Oh, you mean drug cartels?” And indeed, both Padgett and Funes have received death threats for their investigations into cartels and other organised crime groups.

Padgett was once sent an unsolicited photo of a dismembered body in a morgue. He was beaten and kicked in the head by armed men who threatened to kill him and his family while he was reporting on drug dealing on a university campus in Mexico City in 2017. He wears a bullet-proof jacket – or did until it was stolen – and keeps his home address a closely guarded secret.

But cartels and gangs are only part of the story when it comes to anti-press violence and impunity in these countries. In many ways, the bigger story is the threat from the state. This has been a constant despite changes in government, whether right or left wing.

My research project and resulting book were inspired by my work providing advocacy, practical and moral support for journalists at risk in Latin America for an international NGO between 2007 and 2016. The extent of the risk posed by state agents – acting alone or in cahoots with organised crime groups – is clear from the many journalists I’ve spoken to in both Mexico and Honduras.

I first interviewed these reporters, and the organisations that assist them, in 2018, then again in 2022-23 (89 interviews in total), to chart how journalists struggle for protection and justice from the state in the face of growing challenges at both domestic and international level.

For both Padgett and Funes, the intimidation, threats and attacks from organised crime groups often followed them reporting on state agents and their alleged links with such groups. Organised crime groups have deeply infiltrated the fabric of society in many parts of Mexico and Honduras – including politics, state institutions, justice and law enforcement, particularly at a local level.

In Padgett’s case, the suspected cartel threats came after he published a book and investigation into links between state governments and drug cartels, including drug money for political campaigns in Tamaulipas and a surge in cartel-related violence in Morelos under a certain local administration.

Padgett had first joined the federal protection mechanism after he was attacked by police when filming a raid in central Mexico City in 2016. The police confiscated his phone and arrested him.

He was later assigned an around-the-clock bodyguard after the Mexico City prosecutor’s office made available his contact details and his risk assessment and protection plan – produced by the state programme that was supposed to safeguard him – for inclusion in the court file on the 2017 attack on him at the university. This meant the criminals behind the attack had full access to this information.

Being part of this protection programme did not stop the threats by state employees. In April 2024, while trying to report from the scene of the murder of a local mayoral candidate in Guanajuato state, Padgett was punched in the face by a police officer from the state prosecutor’s office, who also smashed his glasses and deleted his photos.

Years earlier, he had been subjected to a protracted legal battle by former Mexico state governor and presidential candidate Eruviel Ávila Villegas, who sued Padgett for “moral damages” to the tune of more than half a million US dollars. His offence? A 2017 profile which mentioned that the politician had attended parties where a bishop had sexually abused male minors.

Padgett eventually won the case – but only on appeal, thanks to a pro bono legal team, after 18 months of stress and travelling to attend the hearings. This is a part of a growing trend of “strategic lawsuits against public participation” (Slapps) in Mexico and Latin America, aimed at silencing journalists and other critical voices.

As Padgett put it: “[Even] once we manage to win, there are no consequences for the politicians who call us to a trial without merit – no consequences at all. Eruviel Ávila is still a senator for the PRI [Institutional Revolutionary Party]” – and he was not even liable for costs.

Mexico’s federal government and army have also carried out illegal surveillance of the mobile phones of journalists and human rights defenders investigating federal government corruption and serious human rights violations on multiple occasions, including by using Pegasus spyware.

In Honduras, Funes is no stranger to state harassment either. In 2011, she was among around 100 journalists, many of them women, who were teargassed and beaten with truncheons by officers of the presidential guard and the national police during a peaceful protest against journalist murders.

In recent years, according to Funes, she and her team at RI have been targeted by cyberattacks and orchestrated smear campaigns on social media that have sought to tar them as being corrupt or associated with criminal gangs. She suspects the army is behind some of these attacks since RI has written in favour of demilitarising the police. Several RI team members have been stopped at army checkpoints; when they have denounced this on TikTok or Facebook, they have been flooded by negative comments.

RI has also been attacked by government supporters unhappy with its critical coverage of the Honduras president Xiomara Castro’s leftwing administration. In August 2024, Funes was threatened with prosecution by the governor of Choluteca, southern Honduras, over RI’s investigation into alleged involvement by local government officials in migrant trafficking. And earlier in 2025, Funes and a human rights activist were subjected to misogynistic and sexist diatribes and threats by the head of customs for the same regional department, for demanding justice for a murdered environmental defender.

Almost half of all attacks on journalists in Mexico and Honduras are attributable to state agents, particularly at the local level. In Mexico, the NGO Article 19 has attributed 46% of all such assaults over the last decade to state agents including officials, civil servants and the armed forces.

In Honduras, according to the Committee for Free Expression (C-Libre), 45% of attacks on journalists in the first quarter of 2024 were attributed to state agents, up from 41% in 2021. These include the national police, the Military Public Order Police, officials and members of the government.

Impunity is a fact of life

One key reason for the failure of the journalist protection schemes in Mexico and Honduras is they lack the power to investigate, prosecute and punish those responsible for the attacks that caused the journalists to enter the programmes in the first place.

Padgett is yet to see justice, either for the attack on him by drug dealers at the university campus almost eight years ago or the results of the official investigation into the Mexico City prosecutor office’s apparent leaking of his contact details to the assailants. When he asked the prosecutor’s office for an update on its investigation in June 2024, he was told it had been closed two years earlier. His request for a copy of the file was denied.

When he went to the office to ask why, he was detained by police officers. “This is justice in Mexico City,” he said in a video he filmed during his arrest, adding:

“Drug dealing is allowed. My personal data is leaked to the organised crime [group] that threatened to kill me and my family. Then the matter is shelved. I come to ask for my file and instead of giving it to me, they take me to court. That is the reality today.”

Padgett lodged a complaint and, following “a tortuous judicial process”, eventually managed to get the investigation re-opened. But he says he has lost hope in the process and the justice system in general. Even something as simple as filing a report on the theft of his bullet-proof jacket during the armed attack in September 2024 has proved beyond the official responsible for the task, so the protection programme has not replaced it.

Funes says she reported one of the cyber-attacks on RI to the special prosecutor established by Honduras in 2018 to investigate crimes against journalists and human rights defenders. Funes provided the name and mobile phone number used by the hacker. However, she said the case was later closed for “lack of merit”.

Previously, the official investigation into the 2011 attack on her and other women journalists had also been quietly shelved after the evidence was “lost”. Funes says this put her off reporting subsequent incidents to the authorities:

“What for? I just want them to protect me … why waste my time? Really, you get used to impunity, you normalise it.”

There have been a few important advances in Mexico in recent years, including the successful prosecution of some of those behind the 2017 murder of two high-profile journalists, Javier Valdez and Miroslava Breach, but such cases remain the exception. Around 90% of attacks on journalists still go unprosecuted and unpunished by the state in both Mexico and Honduras, meaning there is little deterrent against these crimes.

Safer, better ways of working

Many of the journalists I have interviewed prioritise covering under-reported issues relating to human rights and democracy, corruption, violence and impunity. They use in-depth, investigative journalism to try to reveal the truth about what is happening in their countries – which is often obscured by the failings and corruption of the justice system and rule of law.

Many are developing safer, better ways of working, with three strategies having grown noticeably in recent years: building collaborations, seeking international support, and professionalising their ways of working.

Journalists from different media outlets often overcome professional rivalries to collaborate on sensitive and dangerous stories. In Mexico, members of some journalists’ collectives and networks alert each other of security risks on the ground, share and corroborate information, and monitor their members during risky assignments. Others travel as a group – when investigating the mass graves used by drug cartels, for example.

In Mexico and increasingly in Honduras, they publish controversial stories, such as on serious human rights violations involving the state, in more than one outlet simultaneously to reduce the chance of individual journalists being targeted in reprisal. Such collaborations build trust, solidarity and mutual support among reporters and editors – something that has traditionally been lacking in both countries.

Increasingly, international media partners also play an important role regarding the safety of Mexican and Honduran journalists and amplifying public awareness of the issues they report on – encouraging the mainstream media in their own countries to take notice and increasing pressure on their governments to act.

According to Jennifer Ávila, director of the Honduran investigative journalism platform ContraCorriente, transnational collaborations are a “super-important protection mechanism” because they give journalists access to external editors and legal assistance – as well as help leaving the country if necessary.

International partners also bring increased resources. In Mexico and Honduras, as in other Latin American countries, the main source of funding is government advertising and other state financial incentives. But these come with expectations about influence over editorial policies and content, so are not an option for most independent outlets. Private advertising is also challenging for these and other reasons. So, most independent media outlets and journalistic projects are heavily dependent on US and European donors such as the National Endowment for Democracy (Ned), Ford Foundation and Open Society Foundations.

Much of Latin America has high levels of media concentration, with the mainstream media typically being owned by a handful of wealthy individuals or families with wider business interests – and close economic and political links to politicians and the state. Combined with the strings of government advertising, this often results in “soft” censorship of the content that these outlets publish. Some journalists are escaping this either by setting up their own media digital outlets, like Funes, or by going freelance – as Padgett has decided to do following the attack on him in Cuitzeo in 2024.

At the same time, there has been a widespread raising of standards through increased training in techniques such as journalistic ethics, making freedom of information requests, digital and investigative journalism, and covering elections. This all helps to promote “journalistic security” – using information as a “shield in such a way that no one can deny what you’re saying”, according to Daniela Pastrana of the NGO Journalists on the Ground (PdP). It also helps counter the perception – and in some cases, reality – of longstanding corruption in parts of the profession.

Hostile environment puts progress at risk

Despite the promise of transforming journalism through increasing collaboration, professionalisation and international support, the current outlook for journalists in Mexico and Honduras – and other countries in Latin America – is not encouraging. Hostile government rhetoric against independent reporters and media outlets is on the rise, despite the presidents of both Mexico and Honduras having pledged to protect journalists and freedom of expression.

In Honduras, the hostile rhetoric towards journalists is growing in the run-up to the presidential elections in November. According to Funes: “There is a violent public discourse from the government which is repeated by officials [and] prepares the ground for worse attacks on the press … This is dangerous.”

In both countries, such attitudes at the top are often replicated by local politicians and citizens, including online, with the threat of violent discourse leading to physical violence. This hostility appears likely to grow given the example of Donald Trump’s aggressive and litigious attitude towards journalists and the media in the United States.

Indeed, the policies of the second Trump administration are already jeopardising progress made in terms of transforming journalism in Mexico and Honduras. In late January 2025, the US government suspended international aid and shuttered USAID, amid unsubstantiated accusations of fraud and corruption.

According to the press freedom group Reporters Without Borders, the USAID freeze included more than US$268m (£216m) that had been allocated to support “independent media and the free flow of information” in 2025.

USAID has been a key funder of organisations such as the nonprofits Internews and Freedom House, which in turn have been vital to the development of independent and investigative journalism in Latin America through their support of new media outlets, journalistic projects and media freedom groups. Another important donor, Ned – a bipartisan nonprofit organisation largely funded by the US Congress – has had its funding frozen.

Uncertainty about future funding has led to the immediate suspension of operations and layoffs by many nonprofit media organisations in Mexico, Honduras and across the region. While this seismic shift in the Latin American media landscape reinforces the urgent need to diversify its sources of funding, there is no doubt that in the short and even medium term, it has dealt a serious blow to the development of free and independent journalism and the safety of all journalists.

In a region of increasingly authoritarian leaders, it is now a lot harder to hold them accountable for corruption, human rights violations, impunity and other abuses.

International impotence

Anti-press violence and impunity are global problems, with more than 1,700 journalists killed worldwide between 2006 and 2024 – around 85% of which went unpunished, according to Unesco.

Although international organisations, protection mechanisms and pressure can be important tools in the fight against anti-press violence and impunity, they are ultimately limited in impact due to their reliance on the state to comply. Some journalists in Mexico and Honduras suggest the impact of such international attention can even be counter-productive, due to their governments’ increasing hostility toward any criticism by international organisations, journalists and other perceived opponents.

Twenty years ago, Lydia Cacho, a renowned journalist and women’s rights activist, was arbitrarily detained and tortured in Puebla state, east-central Mexico, after publishing a book exposing a corruption and child sexual exploitation network involving authorities and well-known businessmen. Unable to get redress for her torture through the Mexican justice system, Cacho eventually took her case to the United Nations.

Finally, in 2018, the UN Human Rights Committee ruled that her rights had been violated and ordered the Mexican state to re-open the investigation into the attack, and to give her adequate compensation. This judgment has led to several arrests of state agents in Puebla, including a former governor and chief of the judicial police and several police officers, as well as a public apology from the federal government.

But cases like Cacho’s are the exception. Securing rulings from international bodies requires resources and energy, the help of NGOs or lawyers – and can take years. What’s more, enforcement of international decisions relies on the state to comply.

While international pressure was key to persuading the Mexican and Honduran states to set up their government protection schemes for journalists and specialised prosecutors to investigate attacks against them, these institutions have generally proved ineffective.

Resourcing is always an issue: typically, protection mechanisms and prosecutors’ offices are underfunded and the staff are poorly trained. Some bodies have limited mandates, such as protection mechanisms that lack the power to investigate attacks on journalists. Sometimes, these failings are believed to be deliberate. According to Padgett, the Mexican journalist protection scheme has “political biases against those whom officials consider to be hostile to the regime”.

Indeed, many journalists and support groups suspect the Mexican and Honduran governments don’t really want these institutions to work. As the pro-democracy judge Guillermo López Lone commented about the repeated failure to secure convictions for crimes against journalists and human rights defenders in Honduras: “These are international commitments [made] due to pressure, but there is no political will.”

López Lone, who was illegally removed from his position after the 2009 coup in Honduras and only reinstated as a judge after a years-long struggle, including a ruling by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, alleged that these institutions “play a merely formal role” in Honduras, because they have been “captured by the political interests of the current rulers, and by criminal networks”.

Similarly, according to Sara Mendiola, director of Mexico City-based NGO Propuesta Cívica, it’s not enough to talk about a lack of resources or training: “Even if you doubled the [state] prosecutors’ offices’ budgets, you’d still have the same impunity because the structures [that generate impunity] remain.”

Activism is a risky business

It’s clear that in both Mexico and Honduras, despite the governments’ stated commitment to freedom of expression, there is a deep-seated ambivalence about how important or desirable it is to protect journalists and media freedom.

The heart of this issue is the contradiction of the state as both protector and perpetrator – a state that does not want to, or is incapable of, constraining or investigating itself and its allies. This in turn is linked to longstanding structural problems of corruption, impunity and human rights violations, and a legacy of controlling the media dating to pre-democracy days.

Activism by journalists against this situation – another form of self-protection – takes various forms, including public protests and advocacy, and working for and setting up NGOs that support colleagues at risk. Increasingly, activism also involves the coming together of those who are the victims of violence.

In Mexico City, groups of journalists displaced from their homes by threats and attacks, many of whom end up without a job or income, have formed collectives and networks to provide mutual support and assist colleagues in similar circumstances. In Veracruz state, the Network in Memory of and Struggle for Killed and Disappeared Journalists was formed by the relatives of the many such journalists in 2022.

But activism is a risky business in Mexico and Honduras, opening journalists and their loved ones up to further repression and attacks by the state – and sometimes raising questions about their impartiality and credibility. While many journalists have taken part in activism out of necessity or desperation, in both countries their main source of optimism in the face of violence and impunity is journalism itself.

Journalism as the solution

Fortunately, journalists like Padgett don’t give up easily. After an eight-month hiatus following the attack in Cuitzeo and its aftermath, he now feels ready to go back to reporting.

Although he succeeded in getting the shelved investigation into the 2017 attack on him and subsequent data leak reopened, the lack of any action since means he’s decided to draw a line under this labyrinthine process. He is now looking for “alternative means of justice to compensate for the impunity”.

As a part of the reparations, he has been promised a formal apology from the Mexico City Prosecutor’s Office (similar to the apology received by Cacho). Such a ceremony is not justice and may largely be symbolic, but Padgett feels it will allow him to move on and focus on journalism again – this time as a freelancer. He is keen to make the point that Mexico remains “an extraordinary place to be a reporter”.

Despite the lack of state protection and all the other challenges, journalists like Padgett and Funes are determined to keep going – investigating their countries’ ills, probing the root causes, transforming their profession. Their commitment offers a ray of hope for the emergence of a truly free and independent media in Mexico, Honduras and beyond.

Tamsin Mitchell’s new book, Human Rights, Impunity and Anti-Press Violence: How Journalists Survive and Resist, is published by Routledge.

World Press Freedom Day 2025: Journalists reflect

Tomorrow marks World Press Freedom Day, a day started in 1993 to remind governments of their duty to protect freedom of the press. This year, the need for this reminder feels more urgent than ever. 

In the USA, President Donald Trump has been in office for just over 100 days and already we’ve witnessed attempts to attack independent media and dismantle press freedom. Since the beginning of his second term in office, Index has reported on Trump’s war on truth, on the devastating implications on journalism his cuts to the US Agency for Global Media (USAGM) entities including Voice of America and Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL) will have, and how he’s worked to remove critical media from the White House.  

Within this context, on World Press Freedom Day, Index has called upon its contributors from around the world, working in countries where they fight for press freedom every day, to reflect on what it means to them and why it is so important we defend it.

SOMALIA
Hinda Abdi Mohamoud, chief editor at Bilan Media 

“As a journalist and the chief editor of Bilan Media, the only all-women newsroom in Somalia, I know that press freedom isn’t just important – it’s essential to our survival and our work. In a place where speaking the truth can be dangerous, where women’s voices have long been silenced or sidelined, press freedom is the tool that allows us to challenge injustice, elevate unheard stories, and advocate for real change. 

That’s why organisations like Index on Censorship are so vital. They support journalists who risk their safety to ensure the truth is told. They defend journalists’ right to report and protect the public’s right to know.”

TURKEY
Nedim Türfent, journalist 

“Freedom of the press is, above all, the first bastion we must defend for the sake of all our other rights and freedoms. Ultimately, in a time and place where the press is not free, it becomes impossible to make our demands for rights visible, known, and heard. If we do not want our rights and freedoms to be dismantled piece by piece, we must be unwavering defenders of press freedom.

The fight for press freedom by international organisations is essential to ensure that the voices of journalists and media outlets facing oppression and persecution anywhere in the world are heard. This cross-border struggle also serves to prevent enemies of press freedom from casually and effortlessly exerting pressure on journalists – as if it were something ordinary. The louder and stronger the voice of international institutions, the more hesitation those enemies will have before violating the rights of journalists.

However, the heavy burden of this struggle should not rest solely on the shoulders of journalists and media organisations. We must remember: when the rights of even a single journalist are violated, the right of thousands of people to access information is also restricted. Shortly, in a world where press and freedom of expression are increasingly eroded, none of our rights or freedoms can be truly guaranteed. It’s that simple.”

AFGHANISTAN
Spozhmai Maani, journalist

“For me, press freedom is not just a principle, it is a lifeline for truth and justice, especially in places like Afghanistan where silence is often enforced with fear. As a journalist who fled persecution for simply telling the truth, I know firsthand how critical it is to protect the voices that hold power to account. Organisations like Index on Censorship are essential in this fight. They give strength, visibility, and protection to those of us who risk everything to speak out. In a world where even established democracies are seeing press freedom eroded, their work is more urgent than ever.”

INDIA
Salil Tripathi, contributing editor at Index on Censorship 

“We only have to look at closed societies from our past and present to know what life is like without press freedom. That some leaders and many people continue to believe in controlling the press – through laws, oligarchs, governments, and intimidation – shows what they are afraid of, and it shows why publications like Index on Censorship continue to matter.”

UGANDA
Danson Kahyana, contributing editor at Index on Censorship  

“Press freedom is the foundation of democracy – the press should be able to report on any matter of public importance without fear or favour. The moment press freedom is threatened, expect democracy to rot and die from within because nobody will be able to say, ‘Look – the emperor is naked!’ So nakedness (corruption, impunity, heavy-handedness, tyranny, etc.) will go unreported, thereby weakening institutions into comatose. In Uganda, we have seen this happen: The emperor called General Yoweri Museveni has gotten worse every year that passes. The more power he amasses by weakening institutions like the parliament and the judiciary the more naked he gets. It is because Ugandans have reported on his myriad abuses of power that the world has come to know that all along, he was a tyrant in democracy’s skin.

Because authoritarian regimes wield immense resources to punish critics as a means of stifling dissent, we need organisations like Index on Censorship to shine a light on tyrants’ assaults on freedom. Like witches and wizards, tyrants do their evil work in the safety of the dark. Index and other organisations like it remind the tyrants that someone is watching them, and that sooner than later, they will be held accountable for their misdeeds. In other words, Index and other organisations like it provide an archive of the tyrants’ atrocities that will be used against them in the courts of law. What is happening to former Philippines President Rodrigo Duterte is a good example – the reports against him caught up with him.  Besides, by providing constant companionship and solidarity to journalists, Index and other organisations like it embolden the defenders of good governance and human rights in their castigation of impunity.”

BELARUS
Jana Paliashchuk, researcher

“While press freedom is a basic right in many countries, for millions of Belarusians it’s been denied for three decades under Aliaksandr Lukashenka’s dictatorship. Speaking out against repression often leads to prison – and journalists are hit hardest.

Today, 40 media workers are behind bars in Belarus for simply doing their jobs. Journalists like RFE/RL’s Ihar Losik and Belsat TV’s Katsiaryna Andreyeva. are serving harsh sentences and enduring torture behind bars. Other journalists were forced into exile, continuing their work from abroad, while Belarusians inside the country risk punishment just for reading independent news.

This may sound grim, but it’s the reality in Belarus, a European country. That’s why defending press freedom matters. It may seem like a solid foundation of society, but it’s as fragile as glass.”

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