freedom of press – UAB Institute for Human Rights Blog

The Battle of NGOs in Nicaragua: A Human Rights Crisis

Arbitrarily detained, beaten in prison, exiled, and stripped of their nationality has become a common experience for activists in Nicaragua. This is the case of Kevin Solís, who was arbitrarily detained twice; in 2018 for allegedly obstructing public services and carrying a firearm, and later in 2020 for alleged robbery and assault. The United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention determined there had been irregularities in the legal procedures of Kevin’s case, a violation of his legal rights, and a concerning threat to his rights to life and integrity. Along with Solís, another two hundred political prisoners were released in 2023, some of whose citizenship was later revoked. Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega’s war against NGOs is rooted in his plan to crush opposition to his leadership and avoid responsibility for human rights violations.

But how did Nicaragua get to this point?

2018 was the start of a large and violent retaliation of the government against protestors. However, 5 years prior, discontent was already blooming in the Nicaraguan people’s hearts. The Nicaraguan Congress passed, on June 13, 2013, a law that affects the future livelihood of many communities, Law 840. The law deals with the development of infrastructure and free trade zones. As a result of this legal advancement, communities would be pushed out of their homes to accommodate ‘new and improved’ facilities. According to an Amnesty International report, Law 840 allows the government to authorize the construction of projects without consulting the communities that would be affected. Among those is Francisca Ramirez, whose community learned about a new project approved through Law 840 in a televised announcement by President Ortega. To their surprise, the president had sold the land they lived on to foreign investors for canal construction and subsequent amenities. Francisca and her community, along with other human rights activists, took their concerns to the streets to advocate for their rights and oppose the Canal. Yet, they were met with threats, harassment, and arrest.

Protests of 2018

Localized demonstrations in response to President Ortega’s actions continued until 2018 when large-scale protests exploded in the streets of Nicaragua. The Nicaraguan people responded negatively to the new changes the Ortega administration implemented to the social security and pension system. However, it wasn’t all about social security. Previously, widely censored media was combined with excessive use of force by police officers who were firing tear gas and rubber bullets at protestors. Hence, years of corruption and repression of peaceful protest made the population join the rally against the new social security measures. Human Rights Watch reported on the injured and death toll after initial protests, in which the Nicaraguan Red Cross claimed to have helped 435 injured people between April 18th and 25th, while the CIDH listed 212 people dead between April 19th and June 19th, 2018. In this same report, it is stated that Nicaraguan newspapers that spoke about the protests and the death toll were later impacted by the government’s agenda against media outlets that didn’t back up President Ortega. Independent and critical newspapers like El Nuevo Diario had been unable to access paper and supplies due to a blockade on imports imposed by the Ortega administration, said Carlos Fernando Chamorro, an exiled journalist and director of El Nuevo Diario. Chamorros’ exile follows the trend of journalists and communicators who have been imprisoned and forced to leave the country to speak against Ortega.

Image 1: Daniel Ortega is sworn into Nicaragua’s leadership for his 4th presidential term. Source: Yahoo images

What does the Government have to say?

The Ortega administration made several claims invoking laws that have increased monitoring, making NGOs’ work more difficult and giving the government grounds for forced dissolution. A legal framework was created to regulate organizations and individuals that receive foreign funding and utilize those funds to attempt to undermine the nation’s sovereignty and independence. Among some of the requirements, organizations need to present monthly reports of who their donors are or their source of income. For NGOs, this law means that whoever receives foreign funding or fails to report accurately would be stripped of their political personality. And this is exactly what happened. Invoking this framework, it was stated in an official release that the organizations had not complied with the law by reporting their finances, which also led to accusations based on money laundering laws.

The pro-Ortega news outlet La Nueva Radio Ya called the 2018 protest a “coup” orchestrated by NGOs associated with organized crime and international organizations like the OEA (Organization of American States) and IACHR (Inter-American Commission on Human Rights) who want to push an imperialistic agenda into the Nicaraguan people. The article dismissed the reasons for the protests as well as the number of injured and dead protestors. Instead, it focuses on the number of police who were injured and killed, claiming there was never such an assault against the national police force, which in turn shows that the protests were not peaceful. Equally, it holds that the “failed coup” led to kidnappings, assaults, torture, murder, and a great impact on the jobs and the incomes of many families.

Nicaraguans protesting in 2018 after changes to the pension system. — Image 2: Nicaraguans protested in 2018 after changes to the pension system. Source: Yahoo images

NGOs have faced villainization and limitations of their funding and activities because they were thought to be too politically involved. Staying on trend with other democracies and post-soviet governments, after the events of 2018, Daniel Ortega’s administration escalated violations of free speech and freedom of assembly, starting a public crackdown on individuals and groups who spoke against his leadership. In addition to the medical associations, climate change, education, and more, one type of largely targeted NGO was religious. So far, clergy members have been imprisoned and exiled, catholic churches and universities have shut down, and the legal standing of charities has been revoked. On the last round of suspensions on August 19th, 2024, hundreds of the 1,500 NGOs were small faith groups whose property may be seized.

Ronaldo Alvarez, a Nicaraguan bishop, put a target on his back after speaking on human rights issues and the retaliation of the government against religious organizations. He was under house arrest in his home and later at his parent’s house while he was investigated for inciting violence. The priest was later accused of “conspiracy against the government, carrying out hate acts, and damaging society.” Others, such as priest Oscar Benavídez, were indicted at the prosecutor’s office on unknown charges.

Reactions of the International System and Future Implications

The United Nations General Assembly released the resolution 49/3 calling for the protection of human rights in Nicaragua. The resolution includes requests for the Government to fully cooperate with the monitoring and reporting of human rights, including the free passage of human rights groups to assess the country’s conditions. The Inter-American Commission of Human Rights (IACHR) has also pronounced itself on the crimes against humanity perpetrated in the state and encouraged accountability for human rights violations. The press release cited the impactful reports it had filled on the closure of universities, crackdown of media outlets, and repression against Indigenous and Afro-descent who opposed the government. At the same time, the IACHR followed suit; the U.S. imposed sanctions and additional actions, such as visa restrictions on Nicaraguan officials who were involved in the imprisonment and violence against religious institutions and religious leaders. The international system is concerned with the violent developments in Nicaragua and the lack of accountability. However, the ability of international instruments to punish is limited, and without the cooperation of the rest of the international community, Nicaraguans won’t receive much outside help.

No NGOs to advocate for the rights of the people they protect means there are no organizations with enough structure and funding that can help people in a situation where the oppressor is the state. These groups were able to provide individuals with resources and programs that the government didn’t or was unable to. Now, their access to the safe spaces NGOs create is rapidly crumbling down. The persecution of NGOs should be addressed by a large number of actors in the international system to apply pressure on the Ortega Administration and support Nicaraguans. Although the fate of Nicaraguan-based NGOs is uncertain, check out other organizations that survived the last wave of suspensions, like El Porvenir (The Future).

Reporting on Human Rights and the Humanity of Journalists

by Andy Carr

In human rights, journalists usually are seen as chroniclers: reporters on the front lines of a conflict zone letting the world know of events as they unfold. As such, they also may serve as agents of human rights, since their reporting provides advocacy groups and committed global human rights leaders with vital information. Tragically, though, journalists often become the targets of human rights abuses unto themselves. Until recently, little attention had been paid systematically to this last point but shifting global events have underscored numerous threats to members of the media. In an era of politicians condemning the media writ large as “enemies of the people,” deteriorating discourse, extreme politicization of what constitutes “news,” and the polarization of both governing elites and societies at large have made the humanity and the human rights roles of journalists both more important and, troublingly, threatened.

On October 2, 2018, Washington Post contributor and journalist Jamal Khashoggi disappeared after heading into the Saudi consulate in Istanbul. Shortly thereafter, Turkish officials leaked that Khashoggi had been murdered, with grisly details suggesting he had been cruelly tortured before his killing – a “brutal silencing of a prominent journalist,” and an event which “was met with outrage from journalists” and politicians around the world.

One notable exception to the global outcry, however, was President Donald Trump. While the President’s “business dealings with Saudi Arabia” leave him “personally conflicted,” regardless of his conflicts, Joel Simon flatly stated that the President has utterly “failed to articulate a coherent response” to Khashoggi’s murder whatsoever. The non-response is galling, in particular because of Khashoggi’s identity and profession. As Kyle Pope wrote for the Columbia Journalism Review:

The Khashoggi case has brought Trump unusual global blowback, though, for a distinction that the president plainly does not see. We care about the Khashoggi case, at least in part, because Khashoggi was a journalist.

Yes, his killing was horrific and barbaric and yes, it came at the hands of an American ally, which then lied about it. But the world has also been moved to respond because Khashoggi, as a journalist, represented something bigger than the man himself, something that leaders around the civilized world have come to value. He was a stand-in for a value we wanted to protect.

Pope continues, “We journalists, as individuals, are not special people. We have no unique right to support or sympathy. But the point is that we, collectively, represent something that our society has decided is worthy of protection.” Pope’s point goes directly to a growing subtext in present debates about “fake news” and risks to journalism as a profession, a recognition of its societal importance.

Our society, through the First Amendment to the Constitution (“Congress shall make no law … abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press”), surely had decided to protect the worthy contributions of journalists from governmental interference – and the individuals themselves. And journalists globally have begun pushing for international collaboration to expand guarantees more widely, such as a proposed UN-promulgated International Convention on the Safety and Independence of Journalists and Other Media Professionals, led by the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ). The IFJ’s proposal responds to the realities of a fraught few years for the profession. In Yemen, some 35 journalists have been killed since the country’s civil war began in 2011, and eight so far this year alone. At least 45 journalists, globally, have lost their lives in the first 10 months of 2018, among whom 27 were confirmed as murdered. To wit, the IFJ’s proposed Convention would include various protections aiming to deter violence, threats, and politically motivated intimidation of journalists, extension of humanitarian law concepts to ensure reporters’ safety in conflict zones, and similar measures.

The humanity of journalists—and their own individual rights—often remain overlooked. While the gruesome murder of the Post’s Khashoggi’s in Istanbul catalyzed global attention, the sentencing of two Reuters reporters to seven years’ hard labor on dubious grounds, following their later-verified reporting on a massacre of Rohingya civilians in Rakhine State, Myanmar, barely registered. Other recent politically motivated arrests of journalists include Austrian Max Zirgast, arrested by “anti-terror” authorities in Turkey, adding to the “dozens of journalists” earlier arrested following the “failed military coup attempt” against Turkish President Erdogan in 2016. At least eight journalists were arrested in late September in Uganda for covering the return of an opposition leader, MP Robert Kyagulanyi, “the latest incident of Ugandan security personnel assaulting, harassing, or arresting journalists covering political tension” in the country. Four journalists, including the deputy editor-in-chief of Xinjiang Daily, were arrested in China’s Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region the same month, accused of “publishing ‘two-faced’ articles,” a “vague term” indicating content “allegedly secretly [opposing Chinese] government practices.” As The Atlantic’s Krishnadev Calamur summarized, Khashoggi’s death was a signal of “a larger pattern of violence inflicted on journalists around the world … Year after year, reporters are detained, abducted, and, with some frequency, killed.” Calamur’s colleague, David Graham, decried the U.S. government’s at-best tepid response as “the end of American lip service to human rights.”

Unfortunately, all the foregoing trends appear present in the United States as well. In July 2018, Colorado Independent editor Susan Greene was “detained for ‘interfering’” with the police in Denver, Colorado, not far from the Colorado State Capitol. In May 2017, Montana Congressman Greg Gianforte attacked Guardian reporter Ben Jacobs after the reported “asked the then candidate a question about healthcare.” (Gianforte later pleaded guilty to assault, but nevertheless won his election.) And in late June 2018, the mass shooting at the Capital Gazette of Annapolis, Maryland—which left five Gazette reporters dead and two others injured—triggered mass responses from law enforcement agencies nationwide “to provide protection at the headquarters of media organizations.” From last week’s high-profile pipe bombs, sent to CNN headquarters along with noted Democratic politicians and backers, to the multimillion-dollar libel verdicts against The Raleigh News & Observer in October 2016, the world’s reporters face risks both legal and lethal.

Each of these cases—and especially the still-unfolding story of Jamal Khashoggi’s murder—highlights Kyle Pope’s earlier commentary on the importance of journalists to all societies. But each of these cases, of course, reflects an actual individual – a human being behind a byline or photo credit, with their own individual worth and singular humanity. These two understandings of journalists are not mutually exclusive, but instead are, or should be, mutually reinforcing. And policymakers and political leaders, perhaps following or building upon the IFJ’s proposed framework for a journalists’ human rights convention, must take seriously the risks facing the media at home and abroad.

Many reporters and photographers have lost their lives in crossfire, victims of the very conflicts they gave everything to shed light on. Many more have faced harassment, criminal charges, assault and, again, even death, far from the front lines. Our discourse—not to mention our laws, our policy priorities, and our foreign relations—must recognize and respond to these threats.

Authoritarian regimes have long threatened free media and free expression, as well as those who exercise those vital social functions. Today, however, we must be cognizant in all societies of these threats. Even if these values are enshrined in the First Amendment to the American Constitution, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, or the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union—all, in principle, inviolable—they must be vindicated and reaffirmed continuously. Revoking publication or television licenses remain obvious aberrations but preventing the dehumanization of journalists entails the same underlying concerns.

Again, as Kyle Pope eloquently noted, the murder of Khashoggi shocked global consciences because, “as a journalist, [he] represented something bigger than [himself], something that leaders around the civilized world have come to value.” That is, journalism and journalists reflect our commitment to information, to expression, to understanding governments and governance, as well as our commitment to seeing problems in the administration of our societies. The individual journalist, then, must be protected as an individual, endowed with human rights as much as any other. But as the guarantors of knowledge and understanding of human rights beyond themselves, journalists’ safety and capacity to work must be ensured – and we all must act vigorously whenever their safety and capacity are threatened, however overt or furtive the menace may be.

Andy Carr is a third-year law student at U.C. Hastings College of the Law in San Francisco, California. Previously, Andy extensively studied and researched in political science, receiving his BA and MA degrees at Christopher Newport University and Pennsylvania State University, respectively, and plans to return to complete his PhD beginning in fall 2019. In addition to human rights, media and journalism, and constitutional law, Andy is most interested in questions of democracy and democratic theory – what makes for a truly democratic society, what risks confront representative governments. In addition to his academic training, Andy has worked for a boutique campaign compliance law firm and two global human rights nonprofit organizations, in San Francisco and Washington, D.C.