May 3 marks World Press Freedom Day. But this year it doesn’t feel like there is much to celebrate. Freedom House’s 2014 report finds that media freedom around the world has hit its lowest point in a decade. Only 1 in 7 people live in a country with a ‘free’ press: that means a country where coverage of political news is robust; the safety of journalists is guaranteed; state intrusion in media affairs is minimal; and the press is not subject to onerous legal or economic pressures. Although there were positive developments in a few countries, including in sub-Saharan Africa, the dominant trend, according to Freedom House’s analysis, was negative in every other region of the world. Eurasia has the world’s worst ratings (see the report here). No countries in this region are rated as having a free media environment (although there are separate rankings for internet freedom specifically, where Armenia scores well).
The report attributes the overall global decline to the desire of governments – particularly authoritarian states or ‘polarised political environments’ – to control the news. Methods of control include physically harassing journalists, impeding foreign media access, clamping down on social media and the internet, and taking control of media ownership through relatives or close associates of those in power. But the report also noted that declines in media freedom can happen in democracies, even those proud of their liberal traditions. The UK (and US) suffered a decline in rankings this year, largely because of the critical assessment of how our governments had responded to the Edward Snowden story. The Scandinavians continue to top the table.
What we can celebrate on 3 May – watching the extraordinary TV reporting from some of the most dangerous and unpredictable places on earth – is the bravery of political and investigative journalists. They risk displeasure or pressure from powerful people at best, and harassment, physical intimidation, imprisonment and death at worst. Reporters Without Borders reports that 77 journalists were killed around the world in 2013. In my own experience, I particularly remember one journalist I met a couple of times when I was working in Moscow – Anna Politkovskaya. The last time I saw her – in 2004 I think, when she was frequently travelling to Chechnya in the midst of conflict – I asked her if she wasn’t afraid. ‘I think I’ve gone beyond fear’ was her cool reply. She was assassinated in 2006.
The media constantly finds itself in conflict with the state, even in liberal democracies, because of its vital role in challenging government, in unearthing evidence of incompetence or corruption, in holding public figures to account. A famous British politician once said that ‘For a politician to complain about the media is like a sea captain complaining about the weather’. In other words: that’s just how it is, how it should be. Don’t complain – just get on with it. As an Ambassador, I feel this in a very personal and concrete way when I have to answer questions precisely designed to put me on the spot and challenge my government’s view. However uncomfortable or difficult it is sometimes, I recognise that we, government official and journalist, are both undertaking an important public duty: not just to formulate policy, but to constantly test and challenge it, to make me do my job better, to look for better answers.
Journalism is a public duty just as government service is, and on May 3 we must honour those who feel that sense of duty and fulfil it responsibly, whether reporting from their local village or from the most dangerous conflict zone. The most fundamental principle of that public duty is to report the facts. Facts can be interpreted in different ways. But the basis of all journalistic ethics is to make every possible effort to distinguish between a fact and a falsehood. As we watch the information wars accompanying the current crisis in Ukraine, we are reminded of how very simple, how very important, and yet sometimes how enormously difficult, this public duty to report the facts remains.