15 May 2025 | Europe and Central Asia, News and features, United Kingdom
This article first appeared in Volume 54, Issue 1 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled The forgotten patients: Lost voices in the global healthcare system, published on 11 April 2025. Read more about the issue here.
For those regularly subjected to racial discrimination, it can be exhausting to encourage people without this firsthand experience to see things from their perspective. Convincing others that certain behaviours or attitudes are harmful can be frustrating, difficult and ultimately lead to hostility – and nowhere more so than within large organisations, where prejudice may be deeply embedded.
The National Health Service (NHS) is one of the UK’s most loved and largest institutions, employing more people than any other organisation in the country. But, as a result, it is not exempt from societal issues.
Institutional racism within the NHS, impacting both staff and patients, has been well documented. A report compiled last year by Middlesex University and the charity Brap found that “racial prejudice remains embedded in the health service despite initiatives to remove it”.
The NHS has failed to “provide a safe and effective means for listening to and dealing with concerns” raised by Black and minority ethnic (BME) staff, and it noted a “culture of avoidance, defensiveness or minimisation of the issue from their employer if they did so”.
Nearly three-quarters of UK- trained staff had complained of race discrimination, according to the study. A survey commissioned by the membership body NHS Confederation in 2022 also reported that more than half of its surveyed BME NHS leaders had considered leaving in the three years beforehand as a result of racist treatment they had experienced while doing their jobs. Black patients also often find their concerns ignored by healthcare professionals, with potentially deadly consequences.
Dr Annabel Sowemimo, a doctor of sexual and reproductive health and author of the book Divided: Racism, Medicine and Why We Need to Decolonise Healthcare, has spent many years facing and exploring this prejudice, and has seen her own concerns ignored as both a patient and a practitioner. Speaking to Index, she told a story from her time as a junior doctor working in the paediatric accident and emergency department, when a Somali child came in experiencing abdominal pain but with “atypical symptoms”. An experienced nurse said the child needed to go home with antibiotics, as they had a urinary tract infection. But Sowemimo was not convinced by this diagnosis.
“I saw the patient and I said, ‘I don’t really think that this child has an UTI’,” she said. “The dad didn’t really speak great English so it was difficult to communicate.” Ultimately, the child was diagnosed with severe appendicitis and needed surgery. “If they had not had surgery [the appendix] probably would have ruptured – that’s what the surgeon said to me,” Sowemimo added. “It was really hard, because I was a really junior doctor, I had been in the department for only a few weeks, and the nurse was quite senior and I didn’t want to be seen to be going against what she said.”
Sowemimo, who is from a Nigerian background, believes that a combination of cultural bias from staff and culturally influenced self-censorship by patients can play a collective role in misdiagnoses. “I don’t think that nurse was being racist, but there were certain things that made this child more vulnerable,” she said. “Culturally, I think the child had probably been raised in an environment like mine.
“I would, as a kid, never make a scene in public because my Nigerian parents just wouldn’t stand for that kind of thing. So sometimes, if I was uncomfortable, even around adults, I’d just hold that energy in, whereas other children could probably express that more.”
Sowemimo believes that self-silencing can be particularly pervasive among Black patients, who may have fears around their expressions of pain or discomfort being construed as “aggression” by healthcare professionals. “We change our behaviour,” she said. “We’re worried about being seen as ‘angry, Black women’ in particular. So even if I am in pain, I’m not going to feel comfortable yelling and writhing around. It doesn’t mean that I’m [less] in pain [than] the next person, just that I’m acutely aware that sometimes things get misread.”
A misguided belief that Black women “exaggerate” their symptoms has also proven to be fatal, and nowhere more so than in maternity care. Black women in the UK are nearly four times more likely to die in pregnancy and childbirth than their white counterparts. In 2023, an investigation into the death of a pregnant Black woman in Liverpool found “cultural and ethnic bias” played a part in her late diagnosis and death. Hospital staff had neglected to take some observations because she was “being difficult”, according to comments in her medical notes. This delayed her diagnosis and treatment and led to her baby dying, and then to her own death two days later.
Such biases are endemic in many countries, and ethnic minorities faced higher mortality rates during the pandemic. Black American doctor Susan Moore documented on social media how her pain and requests for medicine were ignored when she was in hospital with Covid-19 in 2020. She said she was made to feel like a “drug addict” for requesting remdesivir, the antiviral drug used to treat Covid patients. She later died due to complications from the virus. In May 2020, the British Medical Association (BMA) reported that more than 90% of all doctors and consultants who had lost their lives from Covid- 19 up until that point had been from minority ethnic backgrounds.
Sowemimo believes that “biology” is weaponised in healthcare settings, with doctors and nurses often concluding that Black people are more likely to die from certain illnesses due to genetics. There are many complex factors that play into higher death rates, she said, including later diagnoses and a lack of clinical research.
“With some reproductive cancers or endometrial cancer, it seems that Black people present later, and with prostate cancer we have worse outcomes,” she said. “We’re trying to direct research towards these issues to actually work out what is going on, but ultimately [research isn’t funded] towards groups that are not seen as politically mobile, who are more disenfranchised and impoverished.
“Often, people keep telling you that it’s biological, that we’re all biologically flawed in some way, and this is making us more predisposed to all these things. I think that’s actually even more sinister – how people keep on pathologising Blackness rather than addressing the systemic problems that exist.”
Beyond the treatment of individuals, systemic issues around resource allocation “compound” the discrimination facing minority groups, she says. In what think-tank The King’s Fund refers to as the “inverse care law”, those who most need medical care are least likely to receive it. For example, people who live in the most deprived areas of England are twice as likely to wait more than a year for non-urgent treatment, and there are fewer GPs per patient in more deprived areas. BME people are over-represented in the most deprived areas, and are two to three times more likely to be living in persistent poverty.
Disparities in care are caused by complex societal problems that reach far beyond the realms of healthcare services alone. So changing the behaviour of NHS staff is only the first hurdle, and a high one at that. “I make this argument a lot in my work, that it’s really hard to change something that has been embedded for such a long time,” said Sowemimo. “And I think a key part of why we have a lot of these issues [is that] people are just not willing to change their practice.”
Broaching inappropriate behaviour can be difficult, given that most NHS staff have good intentions and want to help people. “People… feel like they’re underpaid, and they do work particularly altruistically,” Sowemimo said. “So telling them that they’re not being altruistic, that they might be being biased or discriminatory, people are going to [think that’s] quite rude.”
In recent years, there has been increasing political scepticism from the government surrounding the need to address inequalities in the NHS. In 2023, for example, the then health secretary Steve Barclay ordered the NHS to stop recruiting for roles by focusing on diversity and inclusion. Health equity commitments have also been discarded – the Maternity Disparities Taskforce set up under former Prime Minister Boris Johnson in 2022 met only twice in 2023 rather than the scheduled six times, and reported little progress.
But there is hope on the horizon: the current Labour government has committed to a Race Equality Act, which includes several provisions around improving healthcare outcomes for BME people, including closing maternal health gaps and improving diversity in clinical trial recruitment. However, the current geopolitical climate could reverse efforts. US president Donald Trump’s executive order banning diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) programmes across the federal government may have a ripple effect for UK organisations, from which the public sector may not be exempt.
“There’s a lot of momentum around the push-back; we’re very much influenced by US politics,” Sowemimo said. Despite the hurdles, she isn’t going to stop banging the drum about healthcare inequalities. “I’ve always said that, sometimes, the work we’re doing is just to stand still,” she said. “It’s really hard when you’re in a time where you’re not actually fighting for progress, and no one’s going to say, ‘You’re the person that got that bill [or] that got these people their rights’. In fact, you just fought to make sure their rights weren’t removed.”
6 May 2025 | Europe and Central Asia, Greece, News and features, Volume 54.01 Spring 2025
This article first appeared in Volume 54, Issue 1 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled The forgotten patients: Lost voices in the global healthcare system, published on 11 April 2025. Read more about the issue here.
In August 2022, one of the largest surveillance scandals in modern Greek history came to light. Often referred to as the Greek Watergate, it revealed that officials within the government and the National Intelligence Service (EYP), including associates of prime minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis, had been involved in deploying Predator – a spyware tool developed by former Israeli military personnel.
Intellexa, the founding company, had sold multiple licences to the EYP and, according to reports from The Guardian, Reuters and elsewhere, the EYP had subsequently sent messages intended to infect mobile phones and enable electronic surveillance of certain individuals.
Hundreds were targeted, including political opponents of the ruling New Democracy party, journalists, and even government ministers. Among those targeted, the most prominent politician identified was Nikos Androulakis, leader of the Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK) and leader of the opposition.
The Greek government continues to deny ever having purchased or used Predator spyware. On 5 August 2022, during a live television address, Mitsotakis responded to revelations of wiretapping. His inability to provide credible explanations for how the EYP obtained the spyware, combined with his denial of any knowledge of the scandal, heightened suspicions among politicians and journalists. Notably, he had restructured the EYP on the first day of his premiership in 2019, placing it directly under the control of the prime minister’s office. Consequently, many questioned how he could have been unaware of such activities.
Nearly three years have passed since the scandal emerged, yet most questions remain unanswered. The prosecutor investigating the case closed the probe last July and refused to further grill individuals linked to the deployment of Predator.
The government allegedly interfered with aspects of the inquiry – including the deliberations of certain committees – and hindered the work of oversight bodies such as the communication security regulator, reported Politico.
Meanwhile, courts have declined to prioritise journalistic and investigative efforts that continue to uncover evidence related to the wiretapping activities.
Unsurprisingly, the government’s actions extended beyond covert surveillance. Many people allegedly investigated for their involvement – including Mitsotakis’s nephew Grigoris Dimitriadis, the former secretary-general in the prime minister’s office – fought back by aggressively pursuing lawsuits against journalists and media outlets investigating the scandal, including Efimerida ton Syntakton and Reporters United.
These weren’t just ordinary lawsuits but strategic lawsuits against public participation (Slapps) – deliberately-initiated legal actions aimed at intimidating and silencing critics.
The party filing a Slapp – in this case Dimitriadis – typically does not intend to win the case. The objective is to overwhelm the defendant with legal expenses, fear and exhaustion, ultimately compelling them to cease their reporting or opposition.
Nevertheless, while investigating how the surveillance activities were carried out, Greek journalists managed to uncover something far more significant than they had anticipated – a system that undermines the democratic standards typically upheld by EU member states.
In this regard, Mitsotakis closely resembles Hungary’s prime minister Viktor Orbán, who has systematically controlled media organisations by placing them under direct supervision, suppressing criticism and dissent.
Since 2019, corruption has flourished under Mitsotakis’s administration and the government appears to have engaged in favouritism and a deliberate dismantling of fundamental human rights – undermining the very foundations of democracy in Greece.
He also allocated funding to the press – both during the Covid-19 pandemic and amid the Ukraine-Russia conflict – in ways that were widely condemned as attempts to financially control specific media outlets.
The funding excluded certain newspapers that were critical of the government, raising concerns about selective support for government-friendly sources, but did include far-right publications affiliated with Kyriakos Velopoulos (an MP known for spreading disinformation) and even non-existent news outlets.
The government has been accused of deploying an extensive network of online trolls on X and TikTok for damage control, including a dedicated war room called Omada Alithias which serves as its mouthpiece. These operations systematically target and suppress dissenting voices, critical media outlets and investigative journalists – particularly those who have exposed the wiretapping scandal – through co-ordinated attacks and gaslighting tactics. These have included downplaying the scandal and dismissing investigative work as fake news.
The impact on press freedom has been dire, with Reporters Without Borders (RSF) confirming some of the worst fears expressed by journalists. In the RSF index, Greece plummeted to 107th position in 2023 before improving somewhat in 2024, rising to 88th. Despite RSF’s concerns, Mitsotakis has dismissed the organisation’s findings and labelled any criticism of Greece’s press freedom as “crap”.
Research demonstrates that democratic backsliding invariably begins with media manipulation and the imposition of excessive control – tactics that Mitsotakis has prioritised since the start of his tenure.
The situation in Greece reveals a complex phenomenon, described by Dutch political scientist Matthijs Rooduijn as a “snowball effect”. Centrist parties previously perceived as moderate, such as New Democracy, are increasingly cloaking themselves under a liberal façade with the explicit intent of undermining democratic norms.
Instances such as those seen in Greece illustrate that Europe is confronted not only with an existential threat to its democratic institutions but also with the danger of normalising illiberal policies. This troubling trend is underscored by the EU’s increasingly permissive approach to surveillance, where the potential consequences are acknowledged yet policy measures remain inadequately implemented.
Additionally, the sustained erosion of press freedoms further exacerbates the vulnerability of democracy. These developments indicate a systemic weakening of safeguards, and the issue is further illustrated by the close and often opaque connections among elected officials which undermine transparency. Without decisive and comprehensive interventions, Europe risks undermining the very foundations that ensure its democratic resilience and integrity.
Greece serves as a prime case study of this troubling trajectory. The country endured a military dictatorship from 1967 to 1974, before democracy was re-established. It has also experienced a serious socio-economic crisis from 2010 to 2019, the subsequent neoliberal restructuring of its economy and a recent resurgence of neo-Nazism. Some of these phases of extreme instability are common in post-authoritarian countries that struggle to uphold the rule of law and democratic principles.
The legacy of the wiretapping scandal cannot be underestimated or overlooked. New Democracy and its successors may attempt to preserve these tools of suppression, potentially leading to further democratic backsliding. Without determined efforts to eliminate such practices, freedom of the press will continue to deteriorate, lacking the legal safeguards needed to prevent unconstitutional measures that can cause long-term damage.
2 May 2025 | Americas, Honduras, Mexico, News and features
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.
2 May 2025 | Afghanistan, Africa, Americas, Asia and Pacific, Belarus, Europe and Central Asia, India, News and features, Somalia, Turkey, Uganda, United States
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.”
