On the occasion of World Press Freedom Day, press freedom, which has been declining worldwide and across government structures for more than a decade, worsened in 2025, with no sign of changing course so far in 2026. Closely tied to these trends is a 15-year decline in internet freedom, as both authoritarian regimes — as well as a number of democracies — have been increasing their control over digital spaces (see our aggregated data resource). Press freedom and internet freedom are interconnected. For example, journalists who use online environments to bypass conventional press censorship are being prosecuted; independent media’s access to country-specific domains is being blocked; and certain websites and social media platforms are being filtered by governments. 

Collapse of information access inside Iran

Tiered access and structural inequality

A tiered system imposes heavy censorship on most people while granting select individuals and organizations unrestricted internet access, turning connectivity from a universal right into a privileged exception. Authorities use “layered censorship” tactics to block the general public and “whitelist” specific individuals by distributing “white SIM cards.” By law, certain professions, such as Iranian businesses, academics and journalists working for state-approved outlets, are eligible for this unrestricted access. In practice, however, these privileges are extended to hard-line politicians and lawmakers.

This leads to a major digital divide and unequal access to information: pro-government actors shape narratives while others are censored, and ordinary people must pay high costs just to stay connected. 

A growing global information vacuum 

Such disruptions to the information flow extend beyond local borders. In 2009, Iran enforced a ban on all foreign media journalists, preventing them from “reporting from the streets.” Since then, reporting from Iran has faced significant obstacles such as the imprisonment of journalists from major Western newsrooms, which has made many international outlets hesitant to maintain a physical presence in the country. As a result, foreign media coverage is rare, though there have been some notable exceptions.

Given the lack of a reliable, secure internet connection between Iran and the rest of the world, it is increasingly difficult to verify stories, complicating international news media coverage of Iran.

Misinformation, disinformation and AI-generated images

The closed internet system paves the way for a flood of misinformation, disinformation and broad uncertainty about the realities in and outside Iran. These efforts include a surge of AI-generated content — what experts call the first conflict in which synthetic visuals dominate — making it easy to produce dramatic but fake war footage. There are also fake and/or edited satellite images claiming damage to military bases and deepfakes of political leaders used for propaganda. This content spreads through coordinated networks linked to Iranian state actors and amplified by certain global media actors, such as Russian and Chinese media, and bots to push specific narratives. At the same time, platform monetization structures — particularly on X — create incentives for the mass production of viral misinformation, while verification mechanisms, including AI chatbots, often misclassify fabricated content as authentic. To make matters worse, emerging tactics like “forensic cosplay” deploy pseudo-technical analyses to discredit genuine documentation of civilian harm, enabling the denial of real-world violence. While these efforts can exist even within open internet structures, a closed system makes it all but impossible for accurate accounts to compete with false ones.

Information control as part of a broader media war

In the context of the war in Iran, information control has emerged as a strategy for the other countries involved. In addition to Iran’s actions, governments and regulatory bodies in both Israel and the U.S. have implemented measures to manage narratives, restrict sensitive data and penalize reporting deemed unfavorable or dangerous to national interests, thereby undermining the media’s ability to report freely.

In Israel, information control has long been formalized through a legal system of military censorship backed by police enforcement, with reporters barred from publishing material deemed a security risk. Itamar Ben-Gvir, the Minister of National Security, has pledged “zero tolerance” for media violations, prompting investigations and detentions of journalists, including the obstruction of Ahmad Darawsheh. 

In the U.S., FCC Chairman Brendan Carr has threatened to revoke broadcasters’ licenses for coverage of the Iran war, drawing criticism from free speech advocates. Pressure on the media has also intensified after U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth restricted press access in the Pentagon. The Intercept reported that the U.S. Central Command downplayed troop casualties and President Trump suggested that outlets spreading what he calls “fake news” could face treason charges.

As the conflict expands to neighboring nations, so does information control. The CPJ has documented a long list of violations of press freedom, including but not limited to nine journalists killed since the war began and at least nine media outlets damaged as a result of airstrikes. Stringent regulations have also been implemented in nations such as Iraq, Jordan and the UAE. In Kuwait, for instance, authorities arrested Kuwaiti-American journalist Ahmed Shihab-Eldin. He faces charges of “misusing his mobile phone, harming national security and spreading false information.”

What to do now?

In 2025 alone, at least 313 internet shutdowns were recorded across 52 nations (Our newly updated issue primer on the open internet covers the topic in more detail). Therefore, press freedom has never been less separable from internet access. When connectivity is restricted, journalism is constrained, information flows collapse and both national and global audiences are left navigating a distorted information ecosystem. The path forward in formulating solutions to internet shutdowns and threats to press freedom is threefold.  

Bypassing digital isolation with technology. Traditional censorship workarounds like VPNs are increasingly limited by infrastructure shutdowns and app whitelisting, while satellite options remain costly and detectable. As a result, experts point to Direct-to-Cell (D2C), which connects standard smartphones directly to satellites, as a promising alternative, with groups like Access Now and WITNESS urging its development to prioritize users in crisis zones.

Protecting journalists and press freedom. The United Nations Plan of Action on the Safety of Journalists and the Issue of Impunity outlines key strategies to protect media freedom, including tackling digital threats, strengthening legal protections, combating Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPPs) and establishing national systems to prevent and prosecute attacks on journalists. In highly restrictive states, protection must extend beyond the newsroom by supporting exiled journalists and enabling cross-border reporting. CNTI’s broader work on journalist safety underscores the need for coordinated approaches to these risks.

Supporting information resilience via community and education. Beyond legal and technological fixes, supporting a free press requires resilient information ecosystems, including greater awareness and decentralized networks like diaspora journalism, as well as global advocacy efforts such as #TruthNeverDies and World Press Freedom Day to sustain pressure on governments.

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This event built on our “Letters From the Field” series that ran during the summer of 2025.

Read the event outtake here.

The post Virtual Roundtable on Press Freedom appeared first on Center for News, Technology & Innovation.

The moral of this story for me is it’s happening here.” ¹

U.S. journalists being arrested for reporting on protests? Check.

The U.S. government reversing policy that provided protections for journalists in leak investigations? Check.

Legal systems being used to criminalize and suppress speech? Check.

The U.S. government seizing a Washington Post reporter’s phones, laptops and watch as part of a national security leak investigation? Check.

Government officials being fired for sharing information that the president does not like? Check.

These are just a few ways press freedoms in the United States have come under attack.

CNTI recently held our second roundtable discussion on the erosion of press freedom, building off of our “Letters From the Field” series that ran during the summer of 2025. This powerful discussion — held just days before two journalists were arrested for covering a protest inside a St. Paul church — involved a mix of local U.S. journalists and members of the news media from Europe, Latin America and Africa who came together to address threats to press freedoms. These practitioners shared their experiences — both past and present — to learn from each other, build solidarity and forge a path forward.

The discussion centered on how authoritarian-style leaders strategically chip away at press freedoms, the legal maneuvers being used to silence journalists, the growing challenges in how reporting happens at international borders and what journalists can — and should — do to maintain their right to report.

Here’s a look at some of the key insights that were shared.

The Authoritarian Playbook to Diminish Press Freedoms

What we have seen is that here is a playbook and that it’s used everywhere and it’s being used step by step …”

As CNTI has seen in our global discussions these past two and a half years, this roundtable discussion identified a clear, almost step-by-step strategy of information control that has repeated — and continues to repeat — itself across decades and throughout all regions of the world. U.S. participants, less experienced with these tactics, reacted with both surprise and shock at how closely what they are now encountering mirrors what others have seen in the rest of the world.

Examples came from:

• Guatemala, where, as Jose Zamora, Regional Director, Americas, Committee to Protect Journalists, recalled, “… at the beginning, repression … was terrible, but very simple and clear. It was assassinations and assassination attempts, physical threats, and little by little, these actors understood that if they … control the government and its institutions … they can use them to attack the press in ways that are … harder to … see and that look more legitimate .…” This included withholding government advertising (the largest advertiser in the country) from news organizations that are not in alignment, defamation campaigns, civil lawsuits, the use of criminal law, spurious financial crimes and arbitrary detention to silence journalists.
• Latin America more broadly, where governments are currently using “… laws and accusations that are not directly [tied] to our job (a strategy designed to weaken the media outlet and avoid accusations of censorship. They’re going for the money; they’re going for the taxes; they’re going for the business liaisons that any owner of a news media brand owns or has. And it’s getting very complicated to defend. And, it comes, of course, with a lot of yelling and public accusations. Putting us on the bad side … of history … ‘You’re the bad guys, you’re the treasonous, you’re the corrupt ones. You’re the traitors, going against what the government wants … and of course, against the people,’” according to Martha Ramos, editorial director of Organización Editorial Mexicana
• Nigeria, where 30 years of autocratic rule ended in 1990. Dapo Olorunyomi, publisher of Nigeria’s Premium Times, said that, “In one year alone …. the autocrats in power totally banned 17 newspapers and five radio stations.”
• The United States, where “the people who are assigned federal roles in this area, whether it’s immigration, customs, ICE, that information is now controlled by D.C. [It] is a political theater that the border residents have long seen on the border. That theater is now controlled by Washington, and it’s very difficult for us to know what’s going on.”

It is a repeated playbook because it has worked again and again. Zamora added that, as discussed, “It’s really about maintaining power, about maintaining corruption, and it has nothing to do with political views.” 

So the question that I posed to you today is, as people who report news, can you identify authoritarianism when you see it?” — James Okong’o, award-winning investigative reporter, Kenya

Losing Press Freedoms in the U.S.

I was really chilled because everything you’re saying … is happening here as well.”

As the U.S. journalists listened, their chilling recognition that U.S. news media is experiencing this same playbook felt palpable. As several from the U.S. shared their recent experiences, startled international journalists confirmed the similarities.  

Some of the countries represented in the room and some others not represented in the room have a very dark history of negative scenarios coming true. But some others, for a long while, have felt privileged that this is not something that could happen here. Even if they would say rationally and technically it could, they kept denying and denying. And then it does happen within the EU and within the United States and everywhere. And it’s not just the first step that happens — that a president can call a major and very credible journalistic outlet ‘fake news.’ But it goes beyond and comes at the legislative level and comes to actual criminal lawsuits or actions or legislation.” — Gabor Kardos, CEO of the Hungarian independent media outlet Magyar Jeti Zrt.

“America is becoming some sort of a police state, for lack of a better word … similar strategies are now being employed in established democracies. And then at very unexpected places. The U.S. is one of the places where you wouldn’t expect to see this kind of thing,” remarked Okong’o.

U.S. news executive Nancy Mayfield remarked on some of their local advertisers’ and some local officials’ versions of campaigns to turn the public against them, particularly during Covid. Campaigns that left much of their community, “not even trusting basic information and stories about government or things happening with healthcare in the community … We’re seeing the same kind of — not physical threats, but threats to our mission.”

One local U.S. journalist offered a recent example within their news outlet. After a reporter legally accessed a document the authorities did not want to get out, they “… knocked on our reporter’s door, two deputies and said, you know, we advise you not to do this. They then went after [connected] advertisers … they sent emails … put up photos of our reporter on social media and said she was having an affair with the court clerk … The district attorney came out and said he was investigating our reporter for conspiracy for illegally getting this document from the court clerk. Eventually, they arrested the court clerk, and they perp walked her … they got pictures of her in cuffs.”

It is also important to be aware that “public officials don’t have a monopoly on baseless defamation cases. These SLAPPs (Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation) are also filed by rich and powerful business executives with ties to government officials.”

While many journalists and their organizations are fighting frivolous cases being brought against them, they still have an impact. Those seeking to control the press often gain at least a partial win.

Even success in the courts … comes at a heavy price for a publisher. They have to find a lawyer, often pro bono. They may not have insurance. They have to take time away from their journalism, and then they back away from important stories of great public interest because of the litigation risk involved.” —Tom Leatherbury, U.S. Director of the First Amendment Clinic, SMU Dedman School of Law, Texas

Public Support is Essential to Winning: How to Gain It

Campaigns to sow distrust in the media really matter. If the public isn’t engaged, journalism and the freedom of information won’t win – a point that has come up repeatedly in CNTI’s discussions, including in an earlier convening we co-hosted with Organización Editorial Mexicana in Mexico City. As one participant in that earlier discussion remarked, “I think that the fact that our profession is less and less liked and appreciated by society has also contributed to the lack of sympathy and to the lack of understanding about the risks …” (translated from Spanish).

Indeed, Dapo Olorunyami spoke about the important role the public played in successfully combating press control. “The answer I think we found … was the fact that people provided support. Because they saw that in spite of all these attacks, this was a press that was still working hard trying to get the truth out in spite of all those difficult conditions.”

But gaining that trust is challenging, especially in the U.S., where extreme political polarization has seeped into media choices. So we spent some time discussing how to gain public trust. Sometimes, publisher Trevis Mayfield offered, the audience needs additional context to understand why news organizations are looking for specific information. “If we file a FOIA (Freedom of Information Act) request for a reason … sometimes we will write a story that we’re filing the request. We will also write stories about questions that aren’t being answered … And that has had, I think, a good effect at helping the community understand more of why we’re asking. And it makes it harder for us to be characterized as being anti-government and or just government haters.”

Legal expert Tom Leatherbury agreed on the importance of explaining the “whys” to your public. “We are working with many of our clients to publicize more frequently why government information is important about particular things and what noncompliance means and to publicize officials’ noncompliance … it’s telling people why their public officials aren’t following the law to make government more transparent.”

Another local newsroom leader shared the value they have found in in-person audience engagements. “Maybe this is something that’s easier to do in local press and that is that we lean in very strongly into what we call offline experiences. So meetings across the city with all kinds of audiences and which we engage in various topics and we find those very effective in our goals in building trust.”

In the end, producing high-quality work is the best way to earn respect. “We had just been able to create trust by doing just good journalism,” shared Nic Garcia, regions editor of The Texas Tribune. He continued, “And I do believe that good journalism does inherently breed trust. I think we need to be a little bit more explicit about it … I think we need to do a better job of telling our story of how we do build trust. But it is a tactic, and I appreciate hearing other people say that. So when in doubt, just do good journalism.”

However, we build it, public awareness and support for independent journalism that results in pressure against information control tactics is critical.

Collective Support From Colleagues is Also Essential to Fighting Back

Just as the pressure from the public is one critical ingredient, another is support from colleagues both near and far.

Collaboration is actually survival. When I got threats during my Kenyan investigation, it was my network of fellow journalists and people around me who kept me safe and kept the story alive. Build cross-institution relationships now. Share information, sources and security protocols. No one should investigate in isolation. When one source walks away, the network helps you find another … you need to find a way of making the story alive because these stories need to be told.” —James Okong’o

Journalism Support Organizations (JSOs) are another effective tool to use. “One of the things that really helped us was all the journalism organizations that came to our defense,” remarked one publisher. “They all jumped in and filed petitions with the court, defending us and supporting us. And it made a huge difference.”

Ultimately, the coming together of industry and public pressure holds great power. One speaker offered a specific recent example in Hungary.

We had one of the worst threats in Hungary when they were about to introduce the transparency law last year. That was practically a foreign agent law by nature,” Kardos shared, adding, “And it would have allowed the regime to practically prohibit our very existence, not talking only about our outlet, but any independent media entity, even personally, going after the key officers of those outlets and all that. But when all the remaining independent media went out to the square right in front of the parliament and held a livestream together, the pressure helped us win.” —Gabor Kardos

CNTI will continue to hold discussions and conduct research that puts data to these types of anecdotes. We look forward to continuing to work with local partners on these discussions and to hearing from you. For now, we offer one final thought from one of our global colleagues:

Be prudent, be deliberative and be prepared.”

1. The event was Chatham House Rule, so attributed quotes are for those who confirmed attribution for this publication. ︎

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Newsgeist is an unconference: the agenda is not pre-planned. On the first night, the participants shared session ideas — ranging from journalistic neutrality in wartime to what journalism can learn from K-Pop to investigative journalism with TikTok DNA — which were then organized into an always adaptable mix of choices. Newsgeist operated under the Chatham House Rule. There were no “speakers,” only session moderators to help manage the flow of conversations.

The takeaways below don’t represent the full range of everything discussed at Newsgeist, nor do they suggest a consensus among participants; instead, we’ve identified broad themes that arose across the weekend.

Innovation in Journalism

Over the weekend, a recurring theme was the need to push the industry’s thinking around new approaches and products for public relevance and business success. Many participants also shared in the acknowledgement that journalism has not historically taken well to adaptation and technological ideation. It will take real effort for the industry to become more innovative — and it may require traditional newsrooms to adopt some characteristics that are more natural to newer, creator-type journalists.

Several participants remarked that the news industry can learn from the technology industry when it comes to rapid experimentation, shared learning, mentorship and data testing — skills that “traditional” journalism is not known for but that can help foster new voices and approaches that better serve today’s consumers.

The news industry can also better adopt and internalize new technology to enhance and empower the work of journalists in ways not before possible. This may be even more pertinent in the age of AI: “In the age of advertisements, the metric of value exchange was the impression. In the era of traffic, the metric of value exchange was the click. In the era of generative AI, the metric of value exchange is the fact,” one participant said. Participants did not agree on the extent to which the news industry should use AI, noting that the industry needs to better understand both the value and limitations of AI and other emerging technologies in order to be more strategic, and less reactive, to innovation. There was agreement, however, that journalism must act and figure out how to be part of the change.

Other innovative ideas focused on things that bring communities together, such as ways to crowd-source local needs, needs-based audience surveys and more. And some wondered whether we need to rethink the structure of journalism itself, asking “How do we support journalists who operate outside any kind of institution?”

Journalistic Independence and Safety

Journalists are facing increased threats around the world — and newly so in the United States — including deportation, violence, government-imposed restrictions and harassment from people in power, bringing journalistic freedom and safety top of mind for many participants. Several participants emphasized that these threats are not a future issue; they are happening now, and journalists need to be prepared to respond.

The group shared many ideas for ways to respond, such as maintaining decentralized networks to protect journalists, sources and content; creating more solidarity and public awareness around journalism’s work; building relationships throughout a community in order to reach all members when reporting on threats to health and safety, such as pandemics; emphasizing journalism’s role as giving a voice to the voiceless; and consistently covering attacks on free expression and press freedom. Several people also made the point that journalists in the United States have much to learn from journalists in other countries who have or are currently experiencing threats against press freedom.

We were also reminded that media independence goes beyond independence from government interference and control. Participants shared instances where ownership structures and funding reliance hampered journalistic independence — highlighting the need for journalism producers to build strategies for self-sustainability.

Trust, Truth and Activating the Audience

Newsgeist featured powerful discussions around truth and facts, what they each mean and how they fit together with trust. Information is always filtered through personal experience; what feels true to one person may not feel true for someone else. As one participant said, “We need to ask ourselves who we’re willing to hear the truth from, and who our audience is willing to hear it from, and why.”

Questions about trust and truth came up across our sessions:

• Can a slate of more diverse viewpoints lead to greater trust in news organizations? What does doing that authentically require?
• Did Jimmy Kimmel’s experience show that the public will activate when corporations or the government attempt to censor or ban content?
• How do journalists demonstrate that they can respect their audiences who might be skeptical or negative towards them? How best to hear and engage with those communities?
• Is it possible for corporate owners and publishers to support their newsrooms in disputes over editorial control?
• How can news organizations do a better job of supporting one another when one among them is treated unfairly?

Participants broadly agreed that reporting the truth is the answer to regaining public trust — but as one person noted, “Truth by itself is not a culture. If we want to create kinder communities, how would we report differently?” This openness to rethinking how the audience receives information will be key to rebuilding trust, but it will require a rethinking of how journalism is practiced.

Articulating Journalism’s Value

Does journalism need a marketing campaign? A theme across several sessions was the need to do a better job of articulating journalism’s value, but to be able to do that, journalists need to first articulate for themselves what that value is and how it is changing. This is not a new problem, as CNTI’s research has shown, but it has become even more urgent today.

While the general consensus was that journalism should still mean verifiable, fact-based reporting, participants acknowledged that such journalism is now happening across a variety of platforms and from a larger number of players than ever before. As one participant put it, “Journalism with a capital J isn’t intrinsically important anymore,” explaining that a small number of traditional outlets that were seen as authoritative sources are no longer the only way people get news. Instead, many people are turning to non-traditional outlets and news producers with a specialized focus or who target local and underserved audiences. In this changing environment, journalism’s value must go beyond just updating audiences, several participants said; news practitioners must be able to demonstrate how journalism is helping news consumers live their daily lives.

Some participants also argued that rather than try to prevent people from going to social media, individual brands or AI to get informed, journalists could instead explore what makes these tools attractive, valued choices: What role do these tools serve, and what can journalism producers learn from that? The public will continue to turn to a mix of tools and sources for their information, and, in many cases, they will prioritize sources that give them some kind of shared experience instead of a top-down rendering of the day’s news.

CNTI gives our thanks to the financial sponsors of this Newsgeist, Google and The Knight Foundation, and to everyone who came and created such a rich 40 hours. We hope the conversations continue, both in and outside of Newsgeist.

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CNTI’s Assessment

An open internet is critical to functioning, free societies. As governments around the world turn their attention to issues of internet governance — including efforts to tackle disinformation and protect user data — the risk of fragmented internet experiences increases. Some policies deliberately create fragmentation, and some policies result in fragmentation as an unintended consequence.

Policy deliberation: It is important that policy frameworks address the distinctions among different forms of fragmentation, the (limited) scenarios in which content fragmentation is justified and how to minimize the impact of fragmentation. To discourage fragmentation, internet regulation can focus on a number of intermediate goals, such as:

• Distributing power outside of governments and governmental organizations
• Discouraging corporate consolidation
• Promoting individual rights, especially regarding encrypted and personal data
• Promoting open and transparent standards that don’t lock people or publishers into specific platforms

Regulations should also account for the global nature of the internet, particularly when it comes to the rights of journalists — and the public — to communicate and share information within and across borders.

Journalistic concerns: Internet blocks and shutdowns make it challenging for news providers to both report and distribute their work. They also limit the public’s ability to access a range of information above and beyond what their government selects. An open internet is particularly important for people to access online-only and online-first media. In some cases, independent media can help raise awareness about internet censorship and technical issues that threaten an open internet. 
Governance: Tech stakeholders can help protect a free and open internet by incorporating encryption into their products by default, participating in multistakeholder governance processes and supporting interoperable standards. Interoperability means that devices, platforms and applications made by different companies can work together, which in turn gives end-users more choice.

The Issue

In its earliest days, the rise of the global internet signaled a potential for free and open societies that would transcend borders, connect people through digital civic spaces and provide a global repository of information. The internet, as a public good, can provide access to reliable and independent news as well as exposure to diverse sources and perspectives. But amid new technologies, changing geopolitical contexts and threats of online abuse and disinformation, policymakers around the world are rethinking updates to internet governance models. 

At the core of these discussions is who controls how the global internet functions. Often, this control is negotiated between governments and technology companies that preside over online spaces. 

These political, commercial and technological pressures risk fragmenting the internet into a collection of different networks and user experiences. Two users may encounter wholly different internet experiences based on their location and/or which corporation connects them to the internet. (This process is also referred to as “splintering” or “balkanization” and the result is sometimes referred to as “the splinternet”). In fact, internet fragmentation is already occurring in some places. While practices that result in internet fragmentation — via rhetoric, technological developments and legislation — are often enacted by autocratic regimes, they are also increasingly central to internet policy debates in democratic societies.

Regulations intended to restrict and/or control online environments can involve several tactics, such as content takedowns, blocked or rerouted websites or platforms, government-ordered network disruptions and versions of the internet entirely closed off from outside providers or services.

In weighing the challenges of this issue, it is helpful to distinguish between two types of internet regulation that result in fragmentation: 

1. Those where internet fragmentation is intentionally sought out, often to assert state control over data and digital assets or to cut off public access to independent information.
2. Those where internet fragmentation is an unanticipated byproduct of governments’ (or corporations’) attempts to prevent the spread of disinformation, address legitimate online harms and/or protect residents’ data from foreign interference. 

There are crucial differences between these two approaches, but both introduce risks if they do not include safeguards that protect both user rights and a free flow of global information. The preservation of an open internet is especially critical for the global protection of an independent, competitive news media. Journalists depend on access to open digital communication channels to both document and distribute news, particularly when platforms have been infiltrated or blocked by the state. A number of organizations that analyze internet freedom have found that online censorship and manipulation are growing worldwide. These are powerful threats to press freedom and safety as well as to public access to information.

As governments consider different approaches to internet regulation, they should consider that some policy responses risk facilitating a fragmented internet while others can protect societies from it. The challenge is to ensure they protect the public’s ability to use the internet to create, share and access information as well as journalists’ ability to report and distribute it — both within and across borders. 

At its most harmful, internet fragmentation enshrines government and/or corporate power in ways that erode human rights, including those of free expression and privacy. Policymakers must pay greater attention to these effects — even when unintended — to protect and promote an open internet.

What Makes It Complex

I. Internet fragmentation does not have a singular definition. As a result, it is hard to identify and address risks with comprehensive policy.

In academic and policy circles, the concept of internet fragmentation is broad and often contested. However, experts frequently cite three dimensions of fragmentation: 

1. Technical fragmentation, where systems may be completely disconnected from the global internet (e.g., China’s Great Firewall), or there may be other challenges to interoperability, such as websites that only render correctly on certain hardware. (For example, some websites designed for larger screens are very difficult to use on mobile phones — the primary internet device in most of the world.)
2. Content or user experience fragmentation, where individuals have different online experiences. In these cases, users may have technical connectivity, but face restrictions in what they can access (e.g., government-approved sources in a Google search or a social media feed, Netflix’s content filtered by geographic controls). It is also important to note that many differences of this type are beneficial, such as language and content localization.
3. Political or governance fragmentation, where decisions are made without consensus or where national governments introduce regulations that conflict with existing processes and policies. For example, Ukraine requested in 2022 that Russian domains be disconnected from the internet as a form of sanctions, although this request was ultimately denied.

Each of these types of internet fragmentation introduces different risks, requiring different approaches to address them.

II. Bans on specific digital platforms have become a common response to concerns about online safety and disinformation, but they increase the risk of internet fragmentation and, some argue, threaten free expression.
A growing list of governments around the world have taken — or considered taking — action against TikTok and its Beijing-based parent company ByteDance. These bans respond to ongoing debates around two key issues: the potential national security risks of allowing the Chinese government to access sensitive user data and/or distribute disinformation, and rising concern about children’s online safety on digital platforms. Autocratic governments have also weaponized bans of specific platforms, and some argue that these bans inhibit fundamental rights to access and distribute information in democratic societies. Enforcing bans on specific platforms could also require technical surveillance that could put privacy and civil liberties at risk. 

Some argue that there are times when platform bans are justified. For instance, in Brazil, Telegram and X have been blocked temporarily due to failures to comply with lawful requests from the Brazilian Supreme Court. 

III. There is legitimate disagreement about the bounds of free speech, even among democratic societies.
There has long been debate over whether and to what extent freedom of expression should include harmful forms of speech like hate speech and disinformation. For example, Germany places much stricter limits on free speech than the United States. More recently, these disagreements have come to the forefront in efforts to regulate online platforms, and are at the root of tensions between the U.S. and the EU. Inconsistent definitions of acceptable speech create more opportunities for fragmentation.

IV. Internet fragmentation presents new challenges for corporations asked to comply with demands that would permit governments’ abuse of power.
At times, governments may demand (including through legislative policy) that platforms provide private data and information on their users or take down content that is otherwise protected by free speech laws in other jurisdictions. If corporations adhere to these demands, they risk enabling government abuse. If they do not, they risk breaking the law, which may lead to fines or bans. These situations have arisen in Malaysia, India, Brazil and the United States which encompass many different sociopolitical contexts, including democratic societies. It is crucial to acknowledge that this issue is multifaceted, and corporations often choose specific jurisdictions and legal frameworks for market and product reasons.

V. Protecting an open internet is not always possible in autocratic societies, but actions taken elsewhere still impact people living under these autocratic regimes.
Citizens, advocacy groups and watchdog organizations often have limited power to stop autocratic action. However, open and globally focused policy discussions raise awareness and, as such, offer a means of pushing back against abuses of power and creating greater accountability. Further, democratic governments can impact people in authoritarian regimes by taking internet governance actions — for better or for worse. For example, while the Iranian regime’s censorship and infrastructure controls form the core of internet restriction, U.S. sanctions exacerbate the problem by further limiting ordinary users’ access to global platforms and services. On the other hand, the EU’s Global Gateway promotes rights-based infrastructure in emerging economies.

VI. Consolidation of infrastructure among a few large companies may counterbalance state power — but it increases other risks.
Every layer of the internet has become consolidated among a few very large companies. There are benefits to this consolidation, notably for users’ security and privacy from the state. However, consolidation can cause problems for internet resilience: when these large companies face attacks or technical problems, the impact is much broader. Moreover, consolidation increases the reach of corporations, worsening the potential impact of state abuse by proxy and corporate-driven fragmentation. Many observers have raised major concerns about corporations’ power over both public and private information.

VII. Zero-rating programs can prevent people from accessing the complete, open internet.
Technology companies, including mobile carriers and app providers, have implemented “zero rating” programs, which provide select content or services without data charges. These programs are offered to attract customers and increase internet access, especially in less wealthy countries, but they can also fragment the internet landscape. By granting free access to certain sources of content but charging for others, these programs can become the arbiters of what content is accessible, creating a tiered internet ecosystem as they promote broader adoption. (For example, Meta offers free internet access to millions of people who would not otherwise have access — but Meta limits what they can access.) 

VIII. The contemporary internet is still not a truly universal or open network; technical and linguistic access vary considerably around the world.
Debates around public access to information and international connectivity standards must consider existing barriers to an open, global internet. According to the World Economic Forum, 2.5 billion people still lacked internet access as of September 2024. There are also large gender gaps in internet access in low- and lower-middle-income countries. Even among those who do have access, speeds vary dramatically around the world. And access gaps are not just technical: 85% of internet content is in just 10 of the more than 7,000 languages currently spoken. Even among the dominant languages, the universe of information available online differs from one language to the next. New efforts are just beginning to address this challenge.

IX. Policymakers may not have access to nuanced technical expertise in how the internet works, which can make it harder to foresee unintended consequences.
The internet is complex, and policy development requires evidence-based technical discussions in order to be effectively addressed, especially when it comes to fragmentation. Understanding the layers of the internet stack is vital to identifying technical fragmentation or changes in infrastructure that prevent systems from interoperating and the internet from functioning consistently at all endpoints. However, additional forms of expertise are also important — such as expertise in privacy, bias and disparate effects. That’s because fragmentation is not necessarily only technical in origin. Fragmentation can also be rooted in governmental policies or corporate practices that prevent use of the internet.

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Letters From the Field

From Afghanistan and Nigeria to Ukraine, journalists speak of exile, legacy, and resilience. Move through the map to encounter their stories, insights, and calls to action. Discover stories from the journalists we interviewed by interacting with the highlighted sections of the map.

From Afghanistan and Nigeria to Ukraine, journalists speak of exile, legacy, and resilience. Move through the map to encounter their stories, insights, and calls to action.

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Afghanistan

  “Journalists are not just reporters of events; we are
  guardians of historical truth. In a world where censorship, propaganda and lies are so often promoted, our voices may be the only remaining record of a generation’s
  resistance.”

  — Zahra Joya, Editor-in-Chief of Rukhshana Media

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Guatemala

  In every case of repression, journalists adapted. From creating support and collaboration networks, to independent media archives or the creation of exile journalism. And in every case, the answer was not less journalism — but more.”

  — Jose Carlos Zamora, Regional Director for the Americas Committee to Protect Journalists

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Kenya

  During times of political turmoil, people often look for a savior or an alternative leader, and journalists, through bold and truthful reporting, are uniquely positioned to fill
  this gap.”

  — James Okong’o, Independent Digital Investigations Journalist

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Lebanon

  Courage does not have one single shape. Some days it’s loud. Some days it’s just staying alive to tell the next story.”

  — Joe Kawly, Producer & Host at The Diplomat

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Latin America

  In the face of governmental obstruction, declining transparency and intimidation strategies, there is one clear response: better journalism.”

  — Martha Ramos, Chief Editorial Officer of Organización Editorial Mexicana

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Nigeria

  In the darkest and most ferocious moments of Nigeria’s totalitarian experience, two survival strategies worked for us: courage and community.”

  — Dapo Olorunyomi, Publisher at Premium Times

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Serbia

  When those in power want to stay invisible,
  they don’t have to say ‘no.’ They just make things slow, complicated and exhausting – so you
  stop asking.”

  — Teodora Curcié, Data Journalist Center for Investigative at Journalism of Serbia

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Syria

  Our fight as journalists isn’t just against censorship; it’s against forgetting what
  freedom feels like.”

  — Lina Chawaf, CEO of Radio Rozana

•  

  

  Read the Full 
Letter from Ukraine

  Rarely do threats arrive all at once. They slip in quietly: an accreditation that never comes through, a source too frightened to speak, a records request endlessly delayed, an editor who shelves a story for
  being ‘too political’ ”

  — Tanya Kozyreva, Chief DC Correspondent at Suspilne

The post Letters From the Field appeared first on Center for News, Technology & Innovation.

This essay is part of CNTI’s “Letters from the Field” series, in which journalists from around the world share their experiences reporting in restrictive spaces and share advice for journalists in the U.S.

Over the last three decades, my family has lived through a series of events that sound like fiction. We’ve survived assassination attempts, illegal raids, armed attacks and exile. But nothing prepared us for what happened on July 29, 2022 — when my father, journalist Jose Rubén Zamora, was arrested and imprisoned on fabricated charges, triggering the most brutal chapter yet in our story.

My father has spent over 1,050 days arbitrarily detained in Guatemala. Although granted house arrest briefly, a corrupt judicial system, co-opted by powerful interests, reversed the measure on a technicality. The charges against him are baseless, prolonged by bad-faith legal tactics meant not to deliver justice but to silence him — and to send a message to all Guatemalan journalists: this is what happens when you expose power.

What we are experiencing is not an old-school dictatorship. It is something more deceptive: a captured judicial system weaponized to criminalize dissent. It’s the new authoritarian playbook — a repressive regime that wears the mask of democracy and uses the law to legitimize persecution.

The story of my father is the story of press freedom under siege.

Over the past three years, we’ve seen this weaponization of the courts tear our family apart. My mother and younger brother were forced into exile. Our newsroom was shut down. Our accounts were frozen. Our lawyers were imprisoned or fled the country. Journalists that worked in elPeriódico’s newsroom, the newspaper my father founded in 1996 and where I began my career, were forced into exile. elPeriódico and its team, which had spent 27 years exposing corruption and defending democratic values, was shut down entirely in May 2023.

Through it all, my father never wavered.

He has always believed journalism is not just about telling the truth — it is an act of public service. For that, he has paid a high price: months of solitary confinement, sleep deprivation, insect infestations and a Kafkaesque legal process that defies all international standards. And yet, he remains committed. In November 2024, during a moment of light when my father was granted house arrest, he was allowed to attend a public event where the president signed a declaration on press freedom. As we walked together through the streets, people honked and shouted “¡Zamora libre!” Citizens stopped him for photos. It reminded us that despite the repression, the people remember — and that gives us hope.

My father was ordered back to prison on a baseless technicality four months later.

The danger we face in Guatemala is not isolated. Similar patterns are unfolding across Latin America and beyond. In Nicaragua, Cuba, Venezuela — and now El Salvador, Perú, and others — journalists are being criminalized, harassed and driven into exile under the guise of legal proceedings. The tools may vary, but the goal is the same: to silence truth-tellers and protect corruption.

To journalists in the U.S., I say this: Do not wait for repression to arrive in its most visible form. The playbook has changed. It has already arrived with the discrediting of the press, with legal harassment disguised as due process, with lawsuits and economic pressure on independent outlets and with rubber bullets in the streets in recent weeks. It moves quietly, and by the time it’s visible, it is often too late.

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There is a way to resist.

Our family’s, and Guatemalan journalism’s survival, has relied not only on resilience but on solidarity — on the network of journalists, human rights defenders and democratic governments who refused to look away. International support has made a difference: from official statements to international sanctions of corrupt and antidemocratic actors, to legal assistance and emergency support for those forced to flee. Local networks of journalism support and collaboration have also ensured abuse and corruption continue to be exposed. Every act of solidarity reminds us we are not alone. And that knowledge sustains us.

There are also lessons in innovation. In every case of repression, journalists adapted. From creating support and collaboration networks, to independent media archives or the creation of exile journalism. And in every case, the answer was not less journalism — but more. Smarter. Stronger. Together.

The erosion of democracy is not inevitable. But it cannot be reversed without a free and independent press.

In the United States, as legal threats mount and press freedom is increasingly challenged, look to those who have already lived through the worst. Experience offers both warning and hope. Build your networks. Support one another. Speak louder. And most importantly — never forget that journalism matters.

My father taught me that. He has spent his life defending the truth — and his legacy is not courage, but resilience in the face of fear and uncertainty, and the belief that citizens should have access to the information they need to lead their lives. As we continue to fight for his freedom, we also fight for the right of all journalists to do their work and communities to be informed.

We are still here. We are still speaking. And we will not be silenced.

Jose Carlos Zamora is the Regional Director for the Americas at the Committee to Protect Journalists. He has held senior communications roles at Exile Content Studio and Univision News, and previously led the Knight News Challenge at the Knight Foundation, supporting over 100 grants for media innovation and free expression. He began his career at elPeriódico in Guatemala, promoting civic engagement and digital journalism. In 2024, he founded Ilumina Communications, a bilingual consultancy for purpose-driven organizations, and helped launch the Central American Independent Media Archive to safeguard press freedom in the region.

The post A Letter from Guatemala appeared first on Center for News, Technology & Innovation.

This essay is part of CNTI’s “Letters from the Field” series, in which journalists from around the world share their experiences reporting in restrictive spaces and share advice for journalists in the U.S.

“Where are you going?” the policeman asked.

“To the studio,” replied Sadat, the Turkish taxi driver.

“Show me your permission to be out during curfew.”

I handed over the necessary documents. After reviewing them, the officer returned and said, “You may go.”

A few minutes later, Sadat glanced at me in the rearview mirror and asked, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I said.

“You looked afraid when the officer spoke to you. That usually raises suspicion even when all your papers are in order. Why were you afraid if everything was legal? I’ve seen this often with Syrians here.”

His words cut through me. I’ve spent 25 years as a journalist, many of them reporting on the front lines of war. I thought fear was something I had long buried. But he was right. It showed.

“Sadat,” I told him, “I want to tell you the story of fear in the empire of silence, Syria.”

This scene happened during the curfew that was imposed during the COVID-19 pandemic in Turkey, and going through check points was the norm at the time.

But in Syria, when you’re stopped at a checkpoint, you never know if you’ll make it home. One overlooked message, one saved photo, one forgotten contact can mean disappearance, torture or death. In that moment, your breath shortens, your knees weaken, and you silently pray you didn’t miss a detail. That’s what authoritarian regimes do; they embed fear into your DNA. It doesn’t fade with distance.

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Even at airports, we carry that trauma. Entering our own country feels like sneaking across a border, not returning home. We stand before officers waiting for our passports to be stamped, our hearts pounding, minutes stretching into years.

“This is why we panic when we are stopped by police anywhere, even here,” I explained to Sadat.

This kind of fear is not unique to Syrians. Today, even in democratic countries, journalists, academics and students are scrubbing their devices before traveling. In the U.S., it’s become increasingly common for travelers, including many journalists I’ve spoken to, to swap phones or delete apps before crossing borders. When fear becomes normalized in free societies, it’s a warning sign for everyone.

But worse than surveillance is the normalization of the mindset that accepts it. When majorities support censorship, surveillance or authoritarian policies, when more than half the population votes for leaders who endorse such systems, we must stop and ask: What are we becoming? And why?

I’ve navigated journalism under one of the most repressive regimes in the world. Under Bashar al-Assad, red lines were invisible, shifting constantly, and always deadly if crossed. The secret to surviving was not silence, but subtlety. I used humor sketches and satire to deliver critical messages “between the lines” without directly confronting power. The audience loved them. They turned the jokes into slogans. We lived in metaphor, speaking truth through coded laughter.

But even satire had limits. It felt like walking through a field of landmines — careful, strategic, but always a step from disaster. You couldn’t stop either. Pausing meant suffocation.

After 2011, working under an alias and adopting digital protection became necessary for survival. I lost three colleagues, each killed for daring to speak out. Another friend was arrested, only spared because his devices were encrypted. Digital security became as vital as our press cards.

Now, I am witnessing some of these same threats to journalists in the U.S. My friends in the field are afraid to go through customs, to speak out and to publish their stories.

And this is impacting press freedom around the world. Many independent media outlets are collapsing as major donors like USAID pull funding. Media organizations in some of the most fragile environments are racing against time to stay alive. Alternative funding is rare, and as the global development agenda shifts, the future looks increasingly unstable.

Authoritarianism doesn’t begin with tanks. It starts with silence. With fear. With the slow erosion of norms. Our fight as journalists isn’t just against censorship; it’s against forgetting what freedom feels like.

So I encourage journalists in the U.S. to continue to speak up. To find creative ways to communicate with your audience, through humor or interactive storytelling. To implement digital security measures to protect you and your sources. And to work together to fight for what you know is right.

If we allow fear to become habit and censorship to become acceptable — whether in Damascus, Washington or anywhere else — we lose not just press freedom but the soul of our societies.

Lina Chawaf is a Syrian journalist, Nieman fellow 2025 at Harvard and CEO of Radio Rozana, an independent Syrian media network that broadcasts from France. Chawaf, who lives and works in exile, produces programming that focuses on Syrian affairs, women rights, social taboos and gender stereotypes. She has trained citizen journalists to become independent reporters inside Syria and has hired them for their coverage. After the Arab Spring protests and a crackdown on dissent in Syria, Lina moved abroad, first to Canada and then France. As a media consultant for International Media Support (IMS), she helped launch a series of independent radio stations in several countries affected by the Arab revolutions, including Libya and Yemen. She was named as the voice of a free Syria by Canal France International, and she won the Press Freedom Award from Reporters Without Borders. Through her work with Rozana Radio, she has consistently amplified the voices of Syrians, bringing their stories to the global stage.

The post A Letter from Syria appeared first on Center for News, Technology & Innovation.

This essay is part of CNTI’s “Letters from the Field” series, in which journalists from around the world share their experiences reporting in restrictive spaces and share advice for journalists in the U.S.

At the beginning of the 21st century, many expected technology to evolve and usher in greater autonomy. As we conclude the first quarter of the century, reality has proven otherwise.

The recap of 2024, a major election year, has revealed a strong global trend toward authoritarianism and populist governments, moving away from the “ideal” model of democracy.

While there is still much analysis needed to understand voter behavior, today we will focus on one of the most alarming consequences of this shift: the growing threats to journalism. Attacks on freedom of expression are no longer sporadic — they are constant, sophisticated, multifaceted, loud and dangerous.

For journalists in Latin America, this is not a new phenomenon. It is, however, becoming more severe. We watch with growing concern the rhetoric coming from the White House; if the President of the United States feels entitled to insult, expel and block journalists, leaders worldwide will feel emboldened to do the same.

How the Attacks Begin: Government Harassment

By targeting the media and journalists, government leaders seek to portray them as enemies in order to control the narrative and eliminate criticism. This is often followed by the weakening of democratic structure, the dismantling of autonomous institutions and the erosion of basic rights, from the right to information to the right to free association.

Political leaders, from both right and left parties, have developed what seems to be a pattern. In Mexico for example, ex-President López Obrador frequently accused the media of being his enemy. This rhetoric soon reflected on our experiences in the streets. Our journalists were verbally attacked during public events just because they were journalists. These attacks quickly escalated on social media, where bots were used to discredit reporters’ work and to expose the details of their private lives, especially of women reporters.

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We saw the birth and growth of news websites that were aligned with the president’s policies, who were not concerned with journalistic ethics and acted as mouth pieces for the administration.

From there, and with Congress and the Senate aligned, it was easy to change laws, disappear institutions dedicated to ensuring transparency in public information and even misrepresent statistics about the economy and social security.

The same model was replicated by former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro, then President Javier Milei in Argentina, then in El Salvador and Costa Rica, and it goes on and on.

The President of the United States is now following this same route.

How the Attacks Continue: Violence and News Deserts

Compounding the ongoing threat of government harassment are the entrenched threats of violence and organized crime — present not only in many Latin American countries but increasingly in the United States.

Mexico remains the most dangerous country for journalists, but cases of murders, imprisonment and harassment are emerging in Colombia, Ecuador, Guatemala, Haiti, Peru and Honduras, according to the Inter American Press Association’s biannual press freedom reports.

Cases of violence against journalists have been on the rise in the U.S., too. The U.S. Press Freedom Tracker documented 80 incidents of assault against journalists and 49 incidents of arrests of or criminal charges pressed against journalists in 2024.

These incidents represent the most serious threats to journalists’ physical safety and are a primary cause of the spread of so-called news deserts.

News deserts — areas where it is nearly impossible to report due to extreme violence or criminal control — are growing across Latin America. These are often zones dominated by organized crime, such as drug trafficking, human trafficking and, in recent years, environmental destruction.

Despite these extreme working conditions, however, journalists’ commitment has not wavered.

In Tamaulipas, Mexico, where mothers looking for their loved ones are well organized (madres buscadoras), it was impossible for them, and us reporters, to access what they thought was a graveyard. Even the police didn’t want to go there. So the mothers came to a truce with the drug leaders, allowing them to visit the site for a few days with us by their side. That was at least three years ago. To this day, the photos and footage my colleagues and I took during that short visit are the only ones the Mexican media has of that site.

In the United States, “news desert” refers to something different — it describes an area with limited access to local news, often because of a lack of funding for community news outlets. But journalists in the U.S. experience our kind of “news deserts,” too, when they are assaulted at protests, locked out of meetings or sued for their coverage — when dangerous people in power try to prevent them from reporting.

Regardless of the cause of the news desert, though, it is imperative to maintain some form of information flow to preserve awareness of what is happening in these regions.

The Role of Journalism Remains Unchanged

Despite the many threats they face, journalists in Mexico and across Latin America are able to keep on going. We´ve learned new strategies to protect our work, our newsrooms and ourselves. Associations at the local, regional and international level have a great role to play, as well, of shedding light on whatever new threats pop up.

Journalists in the United States should keep going, too.

One truth remains: the core principles of journalism have not changed. Journalism is a service to the community — a critical lens on the realities affecting society.

Denying journalists access to government offices only partially hinders their work. The real stories and issues are in the community itself. History is written when a reporter publishes an account of local events.

In the face of governmental obstruction, declining transparency and intimidation strategies, there is one clear response: better journalism. Journalism that is well-written, verified, verifiable, humane, explanatory, and timely. That is the path forward.

Martha Ramos is president of the Committee on Freedom of the Press and Information at the Inter American Press Association (SIP / IAPA), member of the World Editors Forum at WAN-IFRA and chief editorial officer of Organización Editorial Mexicana (OEM).

The post A Letter from Latin America appeared first on Center for News, Technology & Innovation.

This essay is part of CNTI’s “Letters from the Field” series, in which journalists from around the world share their experiences reporting in restrictive spaces and share advice for journalists in the U.S.

Russian President Vladimir Putin’s unprovoked invasion of Ukraine is the most documented war in history — broadcasted in real-time on TV and social media, with mounting evidence of Russian war crimes. Yet Ukraine’s newly occupied territories remain sealed off, their suffering cloaked in darkness. Journalists, along with humanitarian organizations, have been denied access. Reporting from the occupation is a deadly venture. As a result, accounts of atrocities are scarce.

When Russia seized Crimea in March 2014, I ventured there to report on how Ukrainians were coping under occupation. What I witnessed was haunting. Armed men in unmarked green uniforms patrolled the streets. Families shared harrowing stories of loved ones arrested, kidnapped or killed for daring to protest Russia’s presence. Priests spoke of the harassment and eventual closure of their churches. Journalists described how their outlets were expelled from the peninsula. And schoolteachers, their voices low, would ask me, “When will Ukraine return?”

Traveling to occupied territories required meticulous planning and a convincing cover story. My cameraman and I crossed the newly established border at Dzhankoy disguised as tourists, casually explaining our camera as our hobby.

On our first visit, the changes were subtle. Crimea still felt unmistakably Ukrainian. Cars bore Ukrainian plates, residents carried Ukrainian passports and some buildings still flew the Ukrainian flag.

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The transformation in Crimea was almost unnoticed — until we were arrested for daring to ask difficult questions. At a public gathering of “children of World War II” urging Vladimir Putin to “protect Donbass by invading Ukraine,” I couldn’t resist asking one of the protesters: “How can the children of war demand war again?” My question sparked anger, and someone in the crowd called the police. We were arrested, interrogated for three hours, and eventually released.

Despite ordeals, we went back to Crimea for the first local elections under the occupation. The veneer of “normalcy” had all but disappeared. Though 12 political parties appeared on the ballot, there was no genuine choice. Vladimir Putin’s “United Russia” dominated the political landscape, plastered across every advertisement, broadcast, and coerced endorsement. None of the parties on the ballot represented pro-Ukrainian sentiments.

Many Crimeans we spoke with couldn’t name a single Russian political party other than Putin’s, nor identify candidates or policies they represented. Organized buses ferried attendees to pro-Kremlin rallies, ensuring optics of mass support. Some didn’t even know what the Russian flag looks like — wearing it upside-down at events.

The aftermath of the elections brought a chilling wave of repression. Ukrainian churches and the homes of Ukrainian activists were raided. Many were arrested on fabricated “terrorist” allegations. The Mejlis of the Crimean Tatar people was evicted from its offices where it was based for 15 years. Ukrainian television channels were blocked, replaced with Russian propaganda branding Ukrainians as “fascists.”

The full-scale invasion in February 2022 brought an even darker reality. Covering life under occupation became a daring challenge. The horrors of filtration camps, child abductions, torture, rape, executions of prisoners of war and the daily humiliation of civilians surface exposed mainly through the testimonies of those who survived prisoner swaps or risked their lives to escape.

When all communication from Mariupol went silent during its brutal blockade, most of the journalists, including myself, waited in Zaporizhzhya, hoping to meet the humanitarian corridor. Left without food, water, electricity, or heat, survivors from Mariupol described the escape route as a “Squid Game” nightmare — every step a gamble with death. Not everyone made it alive.

Few journalists dared to venture into the occupied cities. Some, like AP reporters Evgeniy Maloletka and Mstyslav Chernov, survived 20 harrowing days in the port city Mariupol, documenting the relentless devastation. Their work, which earned a Pulitzer Prize and an Oscar for best documentary, brought the siege’s horrors to global attention. Other journalists were not as fortunate, falling victim to the very atrocities they sought to uncover.

Ukrainian journalist Viktoria Roshchyna was abducted by Russian soldiers on her way to Mariupol. Her kidnapping unfolded during the same harrowing period when Ukrainian photojournalist Max Levin was interrogated and tortured before his execution in Russian-occupied territory near Kyiv and American filmmaker Brent Renaud was shot dead in Irpin. Both Levin and Renaud died documenting the brutal reality of Russian occupation, just miles from the Ukrainian capital.

It was only after the withdrawal of Russian forces that the world glimpsed the true face of the Russian occupation in the Kyiv region: streets strewn with the bodies of unarmed civilians, mass graves filled with bound victims hastily buried in backyards, and homes left destroyed and looted.

Why We Keep Reporting

Roshchyna had made it her purpose to report on the harsh realities of life under occupation. “I thought it was my duty to tell the truth about the occupied city,” she wrote in an essay recounting her first, week-long captivity.

Roshchyna died after being abducted for a second time; after a year in captivity, it was impossible to determine the cause of death due to the immense trauma and torture she had withstood.

Russia’s control over occupied territories ensures its crimes remain hidden under the rubbles, veil of denial and propaganda. Systematically destroyed evidence threatens to bury these atrocities beyond reach.

As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Justice delayed is justice denied.” Today, the world risks repeating one of history’s darkest lessons — whether from World War II, or the Rwandan genocide: silence in the face of atrocities allows them to spread unchecked. Without verifiable documentation of Russia’s crimes in newly occupied territories and their devastating toll on civilians, justice will remain elusive, and any peace built on ignorance will be dangerously fragile.

In the fourth year of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine — and more than a decade since the occupation of Crimea — one truth remains inescapable: occupation is never just about territory. It is about lives held hostage by an authoritarian regime that silences, imprisons and erases.

The work of documenting this reality is neither easy nor without cost. But the truth must be told — even when it is painful, even when the consequences are steep. That is why I, like so many of my colleagues, continue to report on Russian war crimes. Not for the retweets. Not for the awards. But for the civilians whose stories would otherwise vanish into the margins. For the families whose grief remains unspoken. For the voices the world might never hear.

It falls to us — the journalists — to bear witness. To tell the stories of resistance and endurance. To insist on accountability in the hope that justice will be served one day, whether in Ukraine, or the United States.

In the U.S., the press operates under vastly different conditions — safer, more protected. But freedom here, too, is vulnerable. Rarely do threats arrive all at once. They slip in quietly: an accreditation that never comes through, a source too frightened to speak, a records request endlessly delayed, an editor who shelves a story for being “too political.” That’s how it started in Crimea: with subtle changes that were easy to dismiss — until they weren’t. We cannot afford to ignore the first cracks. Silence begins slowly — and spreads fast.

Tanya Kozyreva is an investigative reporter based in Kyiv, Ukraine. Her work focuses on geopolitics and high-level corruption worldwide. She previously spent three years at BuzzFeed News, where she examined the shady business dealings of President Donald Trump’s inner circle, and was a co-author of the FinCEN Files project, a 2021 Pulitzer Prize finalist in international reporting. Kozyreva reported on the 2014 Revolution of Dignity, Russia’s annexation of Crimea and military conflict in eastern Ukraine for the journalist-owned Ukrainian broadcaster Hromadske. As the Russian full-scale invasion of Ukraine started, she covered the war for the Telegraph, Sky News, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and the New York Times.

The post A Letter from Ukraine appeared first on Center for News, Technology & Innovation.

This essay is part of CNTI’s “Letters from the Field” series, in which journalists from around the world share their experiences reporting in restrictive spaces and share advice for journalists in the U.S.

The first time I was asked to cut the truth, it came in the form of a polite phone call.

It was 2010. I had just submitted my investigative report for the week, a hidden-camera exposé on corruption inside Lebanon’s Department of Transportation. I walked in with a pen-shaped camera and a simple question: Were these employees processing driver’s licenses fairly, or only for those who tipped or had the proper political connection?

My cameraman stayed nearby. I told him to keep rolling, even when I confronted the staff directly. They didn’t like that. They knew what I was doing.

Right before the story aired, my editor called. “We’ll need to trim some parts,” he said. Why? Because the ministry called, and the network didn’t want to ruin the relationship. They wanted to run the story, just without the parts that mattered. The names. The money. The evidence. I said no.

“If you’re going to cut the truth out of it, then don’t run it at all,” I told them. “The story stands. If the minister has something to say, he can say it.”

My job wasn’t to keep anyone comfortable. It was to tell the truth, all of it. That moment stuck with me.

What I learned that day wasn’t just about censorship; it was about how easily truth gets reshaped, not with force, but with favors.

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I used to think press freedom only died in dictatorships. However, it dies in democracies too, just more slowly. It dies every time a reporter is told to tone it down or drop a soundbite. And that’s what scares me most about what I’m seeing now in the U.S. Is it a different playbook, or just a different uniform?

In 2004, I was hosting a show on New TV called “Your Opposition,” where my team and I exposed how Arab regimes silenced journalists. One episode focused on the Syrian regime’s targeting of critical voices, including Syrian journalists living in exile. At the time, Lebanon was under Syrian military control. The man in charge was Rustom Ghazaleh, head of Syrian military intelligence in Lebanon.

Not long after the episode aired, I started receiving strange phone calls. No voice. Just silence on the line. It was a known tactic used to threaten journalists critical of the Syrian military occupation in Lebanon.

Then the motorcycles started waiting outside the studio and following me while I took the bus home.

I was 22. So I asked to be removed from the show.

Did I cave? Maybe. But I also knew what had happened to journalists I admired. May Chidiac survived an assassination attempt. Gebran Tueni didn’t. For me, they weren’t just names in the news. I knew what they stood for. And what it cost them.

Courage does not have one single shape. Some days it’s loud. Some days it’s just staying alive to tell the next story.

If you’re waiting for a press crackdown in the U.S. to look like what happened in Syria or Lebanon, you will miss it. In some societies, repression is obvious. You know where the red lines are, even if they shift. In the U.S., the pressure comes differently, through self-policing or through language that keeps the truth out of the room.

Here’s what it looks like: You’re told your story “lacks balance.” What they mean is, don’t piss off the powerful. You avoid words like inclusion, racism, war, diversity, transgender or equity, because they make some people uncomfortable. Because saying them means admitting the system is rigged, not broken randomly, but built that way. Built to protect some and disappear others.

I’ve seen it before. It’s just branded differently now and here.

Then there’s the algorithm. It punishes the truth. If your story doesn’t align with the platform’s stylebook or the politics of its funders, it disappears, subject to low views and shadowbans.

What grounded me was remembering that journalism is a responsibility, not a role or a title, even when it costs YOU.

The job isn’t to play it safe. It’s to speak when it would be easier not to. And if you’ve started speaking less, ask yourself why. What you’re avoiding. What you’re afraid of losing. What truth you’ve stopped telling, just to keep your place.

The job isn’t to stay safe. It’s to say what still needs to be said. Especially when no one else will.

The scariest censorship isn’t when you’re silenced. It’s when you silence yourself.

When it hides behind “tone.” When your voice whispers to cut a part.

That’s when the line has already moved. And you didn’t even feel it shift.

The Real Cost

Lately, I find myself editing in silence. Not because someone told me to. Not because there’s a law. But because I’m tired of justifying a truth I’ve already verified. Tired of watching facts become debates. So I cut the line before someone else tells me to.

I still have opinions rooted in facts and truths. And I still say them. But sometimes I am not sure anyone is listening.

And that’s the real threat. It’s not just that journalists get punished for telling the truth. It’s that we start to doubt whether it matters. That it will not reach anyone or change anything.

So we speak less. Post less. Share less.

Until one day, we don’t speak at all.

Not me. Today, I still speak not because I love the sound of my voice, but because I couldn’t stand the sound of hypocrisy — I couldn’t stand not being a voice for the voiceless when they still have so much to say.

So I still ask the hard questions. And I still report on the answers. To journalists in the U.S. and around the world, I say: keep asking.

Joe Kawly is a Lebanese-American journalist with 22 years of experience covering conflict and diplomacy. Born in Lebanon, he’s reported from war zones in Aleppo, Beirut, and Benghazi, and covered refugee crises across the region. He’s lived and worked in France, the UAE, Lebanon, and now Washington, D.C. A Georgetown graduate and former CNN Journalism Fellow, Joe not only covers the news but decodes politics, bringing clarity to noisy headlines and showing why the story and truth matter. As producer and host of his talk show “The Diplomat,” he brings a global insight to conversations that shape policy and perception.

The post A Letter from Lebanon appeared first on Center for News, Technology & Innovation.

This essay is part of CNTI’s “Letters from the Field” series, in which journalists from around the world share their experiences reporting in restrictive spaces and share advice for journalists in the U.S.

Before Nigeria’s Fourth Republic began in 1999, it was widely acknowledged that no press, with the possible exception of South Africa under apartheid, had endured such brutal attacks as the Nigerian media did in post-colonial Africa.

In 1992 alone, the authoritarian president General Ibrahim Babangida proscribed nearly two dozen newspapers and enacted five punitive decrees, all of which criminalized criticism and punished dissent. Among them were Decree 29, which proposed the death penalty for people who made claims deemed capable of inciting social disorder; Decree 48, which, in one instance, banned 17 news platforms deemed to have challenged the regime’s moral authority; Decree 35, which granted the president powers to confiscate or ban any publication; and Decree 43, which established impossibly stringent conditions for newspaper registration.

When Nigeria returned to “democratic” rule in 1999, our hope was that the barbarism of the military era — manifested sometimes in repeated physical violence against working journalists, police and military raids and occupation of newspapers and other press houses, jailing of journalists, economic losses by media organizations, psychological trauma and the forced exile of journalists — would all stop. Unfortunately, it did not.

Over the 25 years since Nigeria’s Fourth Republic was formed, journalists in Nigeria have continued to face attacks. According to data from the Press Attack Tracker of the Centre for Journalism Innovation and Development (CJID) — a robust and reliable database of press freedom violations — 179 journalists suffered physical attacks, unlawful arrests and other violations in Nigeria during the first five years of the country’s Fourth Republic (2000–2006), a period when violations ought to have been receding. Furthermore, of the 1,237 verified cases of violations against the press between 1986 and 2025, the past five years (2019–2024) have been the most scandalous.

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The nature of attacks continues to mutate, ranging from internet shutdowns, targeted surveillance, mandatory licensing for online content and outright economic boycotts of media outlets. During the 2020 #EndSARS youth protests against police brutality, for example, the state pressured journalists covering the protests to cease reporting and imposed punitive fines of ₦3 million ($1,886.45) each on Channels Television, Arise News and Africa Independent Television for broadcasting “unverified” social media footage. In June 2021, the government banned Twitter for 222 days after the platform deleted a tweet by the then-Nigerian president for violating its policies.

Still, journalists in Nigeria continue to persevere. We are constantly innovating. And we have valuable lessons to share with our American counterparts, especially in light of the unfolding situation in the United States.

Journalism’s Indispensable Role in Democracy

Firstly, it is crucial to restate that journalism is a fundamental element of democracy and that any attempt to separate one from the other will automatically weaken both simultaneously. If a public official’s conduct aims to harm the democratic project, the journalistic imperative is to expose it without any hesitation and in a manner that informs and alerts the public to the danger inherent or manifested in that official’s behavior.

It is for this reason that power-hungry leaders — both those that are attempting to frustrate a democratic transition, as in Nigeria, and those that are trying to hijack an existing democracy — target journalists. Architects of such projects often begin by discrediting the media as an enemy of the people, thus programming the citizens to disbelieve what they read or hear from the media. The ploy, of course, is to hamstring the media not only from holding power accountable but also from being able to promote informed participation in a democracy. As the media are being assaulted, the institutions of the state are also being weakened or dismantled.

We are seeing this same pattern in the U.S. today. Many parts of the world had, since the end of World War II, looked to the U.S. for direction when faced with a moral crisis about democracy. It would appear that the U.S. itself now faces a profound moral crisis of its own regarding the future and possibly nature of its democracy. Whilst illiberal expressions have always been part of American democracy, it is debatable if the country has ever experienced a period as troubling as the present.

We know too well from our numerous examples in Africa that regimes that follow this playbook always end up creating deep and sometimes fatal political polarizations in their countries. Critical examinations have shown that the populism of such regimes is no more than a veneer to enthrone autocracy on the one hand and kleptocracy on the other hand.

The burden of the American press today, then, is the burden of the American community. The U.S. media must dig in and make a common purpose with American citizens.

The Power of Solidarity and Innovation

In the darkest and most ferocious moments of Nigeria’s totalitarian experience, two survival strategies worked for us: courage and community. Courage from journalists, but also courage from publishers and owners who had to measure sacrifice against the larger goals of democratic dividends. In the face of all state attacks, community cover was the most assuring.

During the military years, particularly in 1993, when the term “guerilla journalism” entered the vocabulary of Nigerian journalism as a form of dissent publishing against a repressive state, reporters would hold editorial meetings in the most bizarre places: workshop sites, church grounds and other public spaces where the state never expected journalists to be.

These same organizations helped get the news we reported to the people. Since newspaper copies could not be freely sold in the open market due to the risk of state oppression, trade union organizations, churches and community associations acted as vendors. Weekly, they would make renditions back to newspapers like The News and Tempo in the huge Lagos market, helping them survive the state’s onslaught without suffering debilitating market losses. There was a close connection between the community and the press, and a grateful community reciprocated by supporting the sacrifices of a loyal press.

Nothing in the practice of that era came as close to demonstrating the depth of public will in support of a press under attack as the revenue model that emerged under repression.

The current economic challenges facing American media, particularly its ossified business model and ongoing struggle to evolve a new revenue model, make recreating this difficult. Publishers sometimes put economic concerns above the importance of fact-based reporting, and small-town and community media, which are most vital in times like these, are disappearing or severely understaffed.

This is where professional organizations with a keen sense of human solidarity become crucial. At CJID, we have supported journalists under fire, provided legal aid, documented violations, offered digital safety training and fought for legal reforms.

We have found that the excesses of an overreaching repressive state can be managed by effectively using cultivated sources and maximizing networks of journalists. In 2016, for example, about a dozen newsrooms collaborated to form Leaks.ng, which increased their scale and impact. This initiative primarily focused on shared coverage and distribution to reduce costs, but it also served as a mechanism against legal retribution through the power of collective action.

This kind of model, paired with community engagement and support, has provided resilience and allowed us to stand up against press violations. News organizations in the U.S. could follow suit.

Current times in the United States require imagination and innovation. The most important part, however, is that journalists keep reporting. Unless the press stands up to authoritarian tactics, authoritarianism will not simply disappear of its own free will.

Dapo Olorunyomi is the publisher of Nigeria’s leading investigative news platform, Premium Times, and chief executive of the West African media think tank, Centre of Journalism Innovation and Development (CJID). His work as editor during the years of military dictatorship in Nigeria earned him the 1995 International Editor of the Year Award of the World Press Review, and the Press Freedom Award (1996) of the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ), New York. In 2020, he was co-recipient of the International Press Freedom Award from the Committee for the Protection of Journalists (CPJ). In 2025, he was honoured with the Christopher Kolade Award for Media Leadership and Excellence in Nigeria. He is also a recipient of Nigeria’s national honour of Officer of the Order of the Niger (OON) for his work in support of democracy and freedom.

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