Since 2018 the Nicaraguan government has forced the closing of more than 50 media outlets and jailed dozens of journalists, forcing many others into exile. So today there is not a single independent media outlet that operates inside the country. This piece is done by one of the most respected Nicaraguan journalists forced to workin exile, and paints a picture of what it means to be a Nicaraguan journalist in the current context.
Why do I continue working as a journalist?
By Wilfredo Miranda Aburto
In DIVERGENTES, Sept 8, 2023
In a forum held by the Heinrich Böll Foundation in Berlin this Sept 7th, dear Ingrid Wehr asked me a question which for months I had been asking myself, especially since February 2023 when the Ortega-Murillo dictatorship stripped me of my nationality. Why do I continue working as a journalist? Seriously, why continue being a journalist when they have taken almost everything from you? They have taken your country, your family, your friends and even the possibility of not being able to bury your grandparents: when they freeze your accounts, declare you a fugitive from justice, slander you, threaten you, persecute your parents; when they banish you, and the people who accompany you in exile in a fundamental way get fed up and begin to abandon you…Why?
I have not found a smart nor very profound response, but I have found something similar to a cliché of a response which is honest and valid for me: I have a commitment as a citizen of Nicaragua, but above all a commitment to the profession of journalism. I think that journalism is not only key for democracy in any country, but that for Nicaragua it is indispensable to recover democracy and then rebuild it.
Most of the abuses and cruelties perpetrated by the Ortega-Murillos – the same ones that the report of the Group of Experts of the United Nations described as crimes against humanity – were initially documented by journalists when the regime murdered more than 355 people with lethal shots aimed at heads, chests and thoraxes of the demonstrators of 2018. After five years of a long and tiring social and political crisis, journalism cannot allow itself to rest, even though it may feel exhausted. In this descent into the Ortega-Murillo totalitarianism – which for now seems to be bottomless –, we reporters must continue documenting human rights violations, corruption, economic crisis, exodus and above all continue foreshadowing the historic memory. A memory which serves in the future for the trial of those responsible for so much cruelty against humanity.
Practicing journalism in a context of persecution and banishment is complicated. I cannot offer a formula or a manual about “how to practice journalism in exile,” but I can say that every day we run into new obstacles and seek out new solutions to different and unexpected logistical and emotional issues. It is exhausting because it seems like nothing is happening, that nothing is moving, that everything is getting worse. Even if it is true that journalism brings a lot of satisfaction, it also tends to mean the neglect of those closest for practicing it fully: family, friends, children, spouse, etcetera… I know this because I talk with a lot of exiled colleagues who know that this commitment (note, I do not want to generalize on this point) at times costs one dearly. A price that is added to the intrinsic vicissitudes of the profession within a totalitarian context. After all these years I have quit believing, as Gabo said, that journalism is the best profession in the world. Journalism brings spotlight and also solitude. The solitude of journalism is very populated: we are never alone, we always have someone to hug us, comfort us and to toast, which does not mean that eventually, on the other side of the coin, we might lose and sacrifice many key people on this path.
Many people have told me that I am crazy for persisting in this profession. Nevertheless, I am convinced that there are many of us crazy people who are going to continue practicing rigorous and quality journalism for the citizenry, be in clandestinely in Nicaragua or in exile. The first time that I was exiled the word exile felt very light to me, but now I feel its weight on my shoulders. Its first consequences now are looming to be irreparable and lead to another state of resistance. A resistance which now is making an economic and emotional dent on many colleagues. The panorama is not promising, and the challenge has to do with how we continue reinventing and generating more resiliency – thicker hides, said more colloquially – in the face of the coming years of more exile which are assured by the dictatorship. We cannot remain paralyzed, much less quiet.
Despite the wear and tear, and the discouragement which we might feel on some occasions, I believe that I continue to practice journalism because of Nicaragua and because I am convinced it is a commendable and useful profession. Days before the panel at the Heinrich Böll Foundation I was walking through the streets of Berlin. Seeing its sensory monuments and memorials against the Nazi barbarism, the holocaust, as well as the scars of the wall felled in 1989, I felt for the first time in my life what is called historic memory. Memory to not forget and above all to not repeat. A complex, delayed, painful and necessary social construction, which I cannot imagine without the unshakeable strength of Julius Fucik at the foot of the gallows, without the determination of Clare Hollingsworth or the still relevant contributions of Hannah Arendt. I was overwhelmed when I went down and lost myself in the silence of the “Monuments of the murdered Jews in Europe”, located just a few meters from the bunker where Hitler committed suicide, converted a long time ago into a park where Germans take their dogs to defecate…This profession took on new meaning for me thinking about all the journalists who diligently helped to construct this inescapable historical memory for new generations of the world. I again am in agreement with Gabo: “Being a journalist is having the privilege of changing something every day.” And that is what we are seeking from exile, even though it is costly, and we might believe that nothing is happening. In other words, seeking a free Nicaragua with memory, justice, truth, and no repetition. Just as it is felt in Germany.
Wilfredo Miranda Aburto is the editorial coordinator and editor of Divergentes, collaborates with El País, The Washington Post, and the Guardian. He is a winner of the Ortega y Gasset and King of Spain awards.