media transformations 9 2013 full issue

ISSN 2029-865X

MEDIA TRANSFORMATIONSVol. 9 / 2013

DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.7220/2029-865X.9

MEDIA TRANSFORMATIONS

EDITORS:Auksė BALČYTIENĖ, Vytautas Magnus University, LithuaniaPeter GROSS, University of Tennessee, USA

ASSOCIATE EDITOR:

Aušra VINCIŪNIENĖ, Vytautas Magnus University, Lithuania

EDITORIAL BOARD:Karen ARRIAZA IBARRA, Complutense University of Madrid, SpainPéter BAJOMI-LÁZÁR, University of Oxford, UKRasa BALOČKAITĖ, Vytautas Magnus University, LithuaniaInta BRIKŠE, University of Latvia, LatviaBogusława DOBEK-OSTROWSKA, University of Wroclaw, Poland Ilija TOMANIĆ TRIVUNDŽA, University of Ljubljana, SloveniaMykolas DRUNGA, Vytautas Magnus University, LithuaniaAri HEINONEN, University of Tampere, FinlandStig HJARVARD, University of Copenhagen, DenmarkIrena CARPENTIER REIFOVÁ, Charles University in Prague, Czech RepublicNico CARPENTIER, Vrije Universiteit Brussel, BelgiumKristina JURAITĖ, Vytautas Magnus University, LithuaniaEpp LAUK, University of Jyvaskyla, FinlandNelija LOČMELE, “IR.lv”, LatviaGintautas MAŽEIKIS, Vytautas Magnus University, Lithuania Werner A. MEIER, Universität Zürich, SwitzerlandJ. D. MININGER, Vytautas Magnus University, LithuaniaTom MORING, University of Helsinki, Swedish School of Social Science, FinlandLaima NEVINSKAITĖ, Vilnius University, Lithuania Hannu NIEMINEN, University of Helsinki, FinlandLars W. NORD, Mid Sweden University, SwedenAudronė NUGARAITĖ, Vytautas Magnus University, LithuaniaHenrink ÖRNEBRING, University of Oxford, UKYoram PERI, Tel Aviv University, Israel Karin RAEYMAECKERS, University of Ghent, BelgiumAnda ROŽUKALNE, Riga Stradins University, LatviaHelena SOUSA, University of Minho, PortugalJesper STRÖMBÄCK, Mid Sweden University, SwedenMiklós SÜKÖSD, The University of Hong KongBurcu SUMMER, Ankara University, TurkeyVáclav ŠTĚTKA, University of Oxford, UK Artūras TEREŠKINAS, Vytautas Magnus University, LithuaniaJaromír VOLEK, Masaryk University Brno, Czech RepublicPeeter VIHALEMM, Tartu University, Estonia

ISSUE EDITORS: Auksė BALČYTIENĖ | Aušra VINCIŪNIENĖ | Jaq GREENSPON

LAYOUT AND DESIGN: Aušra VINCIŪNIENĖ | Alina BUTRIMĖ

© Vytautas Magnus University, 2013

UDK 316.77 Me-31

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CONTENTS

Romas SAKADOLSKIS Introduction: Thucydides after the post-Cold War

Auksė BALČYTIENĖ The dynamics and determinants of Central and Eastern European democratization: How cultural particularities are shaping media life

Péter BAJOMI-LÁZÁR and Ágnes LAMPÉ Invisible journalism? The political impact of investigative journalism in Hungary

Anastasiia GRYNKO Journalists’ roles and ethics in turbulent times: Contemporary Controversies in Ukraine

Anda ROŽUKALNE Editorial independence in the Latvian news media: Ownership interests and journalistic compromises

Matei GHEBOIANU Privatisation of press in Central and Eastern Europe 1989–1991. Case study: Romania

Andres JÕESAAR, Salme RANNU and Maria JUFEREVA Media for the minorities: Russian language media in Estonia 1990–2012

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4

Introduction: Thucydides after the post-Cold War

ISSN 2029-865Xdoi://10.7220/2029-865X.09.01

INTRODUCTION: THUCYDIDES AFTER THE POST-COLD WAR

Romas [email protected] of Public CommunicationsVytautas Magnus UniversityKaunas, Lithuania

Media Transformations 5

The Greek historian Thucydides (c.460-c.400 B.C.) introduced his account of the Peloponnesian War by offering a blueprint for writing the first version of history – a phrase often used as metaphor for modern Western journalism:

“In recording the events of the war my principle has been not to rely on casual information or my own suppositions, but to apply the greatest possible rigour in pursuing every detail both of what I saw myself and of what I heard from others. It was laborious research, as eyewitnesses on each occasion would give different accounts of the same event, depending on their individual loyalties or memories” (Book, One, 22 passage) (Thucydides, 2009).

Fast forward almost two-and-a-half millennia: as this volume goes to press, Europe is the throes of the greatest challenge to its peace and stability since the Cold War. Russia’s annexation of Crimea and its meddling in eastern and southern Ukraine has been accompa-nied by massive propaganda churned out by state-owned and Krem-lin-friendly media. Little on the Russian side resembles Thucydides’ model: reporters pursue rumour instead of detail, laboriously mis-speak the facts, and seldom offer different accounts of the same event.

Meanwhile, Western media struggle “to give the other side a fair hearing, so those lies being reported on ‘Russian television news’ are often used to create a sense of balance” (Applebaum, 2014).

Lev Gudkov, head of Levada-Center, a Moscow-based polling organ-ization says the scale and tone of Russian propaganda are unprece-dented since the fall of the Soviet Union: “For intensity, comprehen-siveness and aggressiveness, this is like nothing I have ever seen over the whole post-Soviet period” (Leonard, 2014).

Alan Yuhas, who writes for the British newspaper The Guardian, notes that the Russian government has moved on three fronts in pur-suit of its information goals:

“By shutting down independent press, Russia controls more of the story; by spreading half-truths and rumors, the Kremlin not only confuses opponents but also sows unwit-ting support for its cause; finally, by pushing the boundaries

6

with its version of events, Moscow’s leadership can force other countries to play by its own very pliable rules” (Yuhas, 2014).

Russia’s use of media as a weapon of war has already led to policy changes in some neighbouring countries. Even before the Ukraini-an crisis erupted, Latvia and Lithuania suspended broadcasts by the Russian television station RTR (Estonia did not) and the three Baltic States are exploring the possibility of a joint television channel as a way of countering propaganda aimed at Russian speakers in their re-spective countries (Collier, 2014). Although such moves are subject to debate regarding their effectiveness and raise issues of freedom of access to information, the threat is not mere perception. Former United States ambassador to Russia Michael McFaul warns that „the Kremlin has both the intention and capacity to undermine govern-ments and states, using instruments like the military, money, media, the secret police and energy“(McFaul, 2014).

Russia’s efforts have sparked renewed interest in the efficacy of prop-aganda. Paul Goble, who served in the U.S. State Department before the fall of the Soviet Union and maintains a blog “Window on Eura-sia” remembers the late Natalie Grant Wraga, a Russian-born expert in Soviet disinformation and deception. Goble says she “frequently argued that one of the reasons disinformation is so successful is that it is mostly true and its audiences are unwilling or unable to make distinctions between what they know to be true and what they would discover is false” (Goble, 2014).

The consequences of such low news literacy may be catastrophic and Crimea is a case in point. In an early analysis of Russia’s informa-tion war in the peninsula, Polish security expert Jolanta Darczews-ka notes there was no resistance to Russian actions “because Rus-sian-speaking citizens of Ukraine who had undergone necessary psychological and informational treatment (intoxication) took part in the separatist coup and the annexation of Crimea by Russia.” She warns that such dangers are not specific to Ukraine: rather “the ide-ological newspeak based on disinformation falls on fertile socio-cul-tural ground in the East” throughout the Russian-speaking diaspora (Darczewska, 2014).

Although few doubt Russia’s use of military force to redraw the map


Romas SAKADOLSKIS


of Europe has ramifications beyond the immediate crisis, there is no consensus among the continent’s political elites about how to re-spond. Meanwhile, some Western business leaders do not bother to conceal their hope the problem will go away. That is not likely. Ac-cording to Bulgarian political scientist Ivan Krastev, Russia’s actions in Ukraine signal a deep shift, long in the making, “an attempt to politically, culturally, and militarily resist the West” (Krastev, 2014). In the implausible event the crisis in Ukraine is resolved, large issues will linger for generations to come.

In light of these developments, this issue of “Media Transformations” could not be timelier. Each of the six articles examines strengths and weaknesses of news media in Central and Eastern Europe, a region in the forefront of the new reality in Europe.

Auksė Balčytienė explores the region’s media environments which have been affected by changes in civic society, cultural norms, media performance and the ebbs and tides of market economics, as well as profound changes in the consumption of news that have resulted in media fragmentation. She examines how these forces have played out in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania and to what extent their experiences may be useful for the rest of Central and Eastern Europe.

Péter Bajomi-Lázár and Ágnes Lampé assess the status of investiga-tive journalism in Hungary as seen through the eyes of seven critical practitioners. Semi-structured interviews reveal that most believe their work falls short of investigations by journalists in Anglo-Saxon countries. The participants question the overly pessimistic assess-ments by Hungarian media scholars about the lack of journalistic independence, but admit that in Hungary the impact of investigative journalism is limited.

Anastasiia Grynko investigates the mind-set of journalists in Ukraine, one of the most challenging places in today’s Europe for gathering and disseminating news. She combines traditional with unconventional (in journalism inquiry) methods, including arts-based research techniques involving the production of collages to glean the attitudes of journalists towards their profession, freedom of expression, ethics, external and internal pressures, and other issues. One hundred media professionals participated in the study.

8 Romas SAKADOLSKIS


Anda Rožukalne evaluates external and internal factors affecting the editorial freedom of news media in Latvia after the financial crisis and the contraction of its media market. Notably, of the 265 media professionals surveyed nearly half of the respondents said business interests places limits on editorial freedom. Journalists also evaluated political interests, internal restrictions, including the role of editors and self-censorship, and assessed editorial independence in media other than their place of employment.

Matei Gheboianu reviews the privatization of Romanian media after the fall of the Ceausescu regime, including changes in ownership and the entrance of foreign investors. Privatization occurred in several stages over three years starting in 1989. She also examines in de-tail how change came about at the two largest national newspapers, Adevărul and România liberă. This includes in-depth interviews with five journalists who were instrumental in the privatization process.

Finally, Andres Jõesaar, Salme Rannu and Maria Jufereva look at Russian-language media in Estonia over the past two decades. After independence was restored Russian-language press found it difficult to survive in a free market system and entered a period of steep de-cline: no Russian-language daily newspaper was published in Estonia in 2013. Meanwhile, Estonian public broadcasting did not step in to fill the information gap and today many Russian speakers rely on television programs from Estonia’s eastern neighbour.


REFERENCES

Applebaum, A. (2014). Russia’s Information Warriors are on the March – We Must Respond. The Telegraph, March 7. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/russia/10683298/Russias-information-warriors-are-on-the-march-we-must-respond.html.

Collier, M. (2014). Baltics Mull Joint TV Channel to Counter Krem-lin’s Line. AFP, April 20. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://www.dawn.com/news/1101114/baltics-mull-joint-tv-channel-to-counter-kremlins-line.

Darzcewska, J. (2014). The Anatomy of Russian Information War-fare. The Crimean Operation, a Case Study. Point of View, No. 42. Warsaw Centre for Eastern Studies. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://www.osw.waw.pl/sites/default/files/the_anatomy_of_russian_information_warfare.pdf.

Goble, P. (2014). Despite Its Crudeness, Putin’s Propaganda Cam-paign Works Where He Needs It, Polish Study Says. Window on Eurasia, May 25. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://windowoneur-asia2.blogspot.com/2014/05/window-on-eurasia-despite-its-crude-ness.html.

Krastev, I . (2014). Russian Revisionism. Foreign Affairs, March 3. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://www.foreignaffairs.com/arti-cles/140990/ivan-krastev/russian-revisionism.

Leonard, P. (2014) Russian Propaganda War in Full Swing over Ukraine”. Associated Press, March 15. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://news.yahoo.com/russian-propaganda-war-full-swing-over-ukraine-085411498.html.

McFaul, M. (2014). Confronting Putin’s Russia. The New York Times, March 23. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/24/opinion/confronting-putins-russia.html.

Thucydides (2009). The Peloponnesian War. Translation by Mark Hammond. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

10


Romas SAKADOLSKIS

Yuhas, A. (2014). Russian Propaganda over Crimea and the Ukraine: How Does it Work?” The Guardian, March 17. Retrieved June 20, 2014, from http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/mar/17/crimea-crisis-russia-propaganda-media.

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The dynamics and determinants of Central and Eastern European democratization: How cultural particularities are shaping media life

THE DYNAMICS AND DETERMINANTS OF CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPEAN DEMOCRATIZATION: HOW CULTURAL PARTICULARITIES ARE SHAPING MEDIA LIFE

Auksė BALČYTIENĖ [email protected] Professor, PhDDepartment of Pubic CommunicationsVytautas Magnus UniversityKaunas, Lithuania

ABSTRACT: This paper makes several contributions to the arising debate about the quality and variations of democratization and media performance in Central and Eastern Europe. As its first objective it provides a critical interpretation of the trend entitled ‘individuation of consumption,’ recognizing serious risks and dangers that changing conditions and social developments, such as individualization of media choices and media use and thus of media fragmentation, impose on the functioning of democracy in Europe. It specifically looks at the CEE experience – at transitional societies that are often described as lacking a sound and solid social and ideological basis, with weak economies and a political culture characterized by elite polarization and clientelism – and makes a presumption that those countries seem to be highly susceptible to negative effects of social and cultural transformations. It combines two perspectives of analysis – institutional and cultural – and, by observing the par-ticularities of contextual conditions in the selected countries (Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania), questions whether a perfect combination of contextual arrangements could be discovered to enlighten our knowledge about alternatives in democrati-zation and media performance across the CEE.

KEYWORDS: individualization, consumerism, media fragmentation, political and social polarization, Central and Eastern Europe, Baltic States

ISSN 2029-865Xdoi://10.7220/2029-865X.09.02


THE NEW MIND OF THE MEDIA – FROM NORMATIVE VISIONS TO MEDIACRACY

Modern-day media has indeed progressed into a societal organiza-tion of the utmost significance, power and domination. Contem-porary media institutions propose much more than a mere setting of political agendas and scrutiny of the powerful. Instead of being geared to predominantly political structures where practical political decision-making is meant to take place (such as government offic-es, parliaments, or other political assemblies), political discourses tend to develop in highly fragmented, diversified and interactive fea-ture-empowered media environments. Today’s politics is hardly im-aginable without its new features of spin, spectacle and amusement – all those features induced and maintained by the new populist logic provoked and expertly managed by the media. Additional to schol-arly examinations, which move around these new qualities and delve into the subtleties of mediacracy and media rulings, another popular line of analysis encountered in political and media fields is the notion of ‘crisis’.

Generally, the ideal for media performance in healthy democracies should be envisioned as being a source of objective information that is widely available to citizens and interest groups (Trappel and Meier, 2011; Trappel et al, 2011). Democratic media has a number of pre-scribed functions to follow. It should support free speech and it must act as a check (watchdog) on the activities of powerful institutions. Idealistic vision also foresees that democratically performing media should preserve a discursive space for the emergence of a rational debate. The media should indeed act as interests’ mediators and so-cial mobilizers. Even more, conferring to another classical vision, the media should act as a pillar together with other societal institu-tions such as education, healthcare or cultural structures and systems bringing consolidating and keeping nations together.

The daily life in the twenty-first century, however, is challenged with advances and effects that differ significantly from what was expected from these institutions – media included – only a few decades ago. As seen from various cases1, serious challenges, drawbacks and media’s failures to adhere to ideals of classical professionalism and accounta-bility requests are reported throughout Europe. Many media groups

1 Scandals surrounding the global Murdock empire, as well as other, more recent, cases reported in the UK about media’s misbehaviours have heated discussions about crisis of classical visions of professionalism and normative standing points as absent in today’s journalism, and media institution as removed from democratic ideals.

14 Auksė BALČYTIENĖ


(especially newspapers) had to reconsider their business models. Likewise, they had to lay-off their experienced staff members, sup-plementing those with a cheaper and less qualified workforce.

While economic and technological reasons are often blamed for the most obvious drawbacks challenging media’s democratic functions, changing contexts and media usage conditions signal much more

They challenge the basis of democracies in the region. As seen from Freedom House reports, media independence rankings and jour-nalistic professionalism assessments have dropped in all countries across Europe. Especially severe changes took place in the media of various CEE and Southern European states greatly moved by the global economic crisis and where governments infused serious cuts in the public sector as well as implemented other restrictions in cul-tural policies, such as rising VAT on newspaper publishing and sales. In another group of CEE countries yet additional trends – metaphor-ically entitled as media ‘de-globalization’ – were registered (Stetka, 2012). Sensing serious financial difficulties, many international pub-lishers terminated their operations in evolving CEE markets and were replaced by local business groups with unclear aspirations and interests, intensifying politization and oligarchization in the region.

Additionally, another challenge appears to be social changes in-itiated as a result of generational shifts and appearing novel news consumption fashions among various groups of the changing au-dience. For many young Europeans, for example, the Internet has become the principal and only news and information resource they repeatedly use. Obviously, changing media access routines have also distorted how these younger generations are socialized into public life and what their encounters with politics and public affairs are. These shifts also critically affect individual participatory character-istics, hence alienation and withdrawal from social life appear to be new trends witnessed through arising political disengagement and decline of support to conventional party ideologies and party mem-bership (and politics in general).

A number of critical questions need to be asked here: How changing media production and usage conditions correlate with the function-ing of democracy in Europe – in other words, do modern-day media contribute to public emancipation, empowerment and connectivity,


or do they merely support individualized and popular encounters through consumer-inspired needs leading to media and audience fragmentation? How (and with what means) can a political-ideolog-ical sense be mobilized in a contemporary, individual interests-fo-cused world, and what role does professional journalism play in this respect?

INDIVIDUALIZATION – A BLESSING, OR A CURSE?

Although many of the changes observed and identified in the pre-vious section of this paper, particularly the ones associated with the rise of individuation and personified consumption, appear to be rather fresh and new, this is not exactly so. In older European de-mocracies, the public sector was reshaped and market schemes were already initiated a few decades ago. As intensely debated, all attempts of imposing criteria of competitiveness, of market-based logic, of fi-nancialization, have accelerated new social tendencies among which individualization is the most prevailing trend. Predominantly geared towards marketization and commodification these developments have also placed individuals in uncertain market relationships in al-most all spheres of their active life. Temporariness in employment, marketization in public education and health care, and other uncer-tainties caused by transformations of the public sector have added a greater sense of risk and confusion throughout Europe. The neo-liberal economic regime not only changed the world economy, but most importantly it changed fundamental policies within the nations by introducing privatization and marketization as well as other mar-ket-oriented forces into the daily lives of Europeans.

As seen from various academic inquiries, contemporary societies are critically scrutinized for such inclinations as obsessions with con-sumerism, political disconnect media’s increasing commercializa-tion, professionalism compromises and the like. Media and political institutions in different countries around the world are confronted with new questions arising as adequate responses to rapidly chang-ing economic and social conditions, such as economic difficulties, financial drawbacks, technological diffusion, and all other types of contemporary crises followed by disappointments, devaluations, confusion and loss. Although not all European countries have been similarly affected by economic crisis, almost all of them had to react



to similar tendencies identified as critical for the media field, namely the decline of financial mechanisms and sources to support adver-tising and media business, shifting media independence conditions, changing audience consumption traditions, and increasing Internet-ization.

Likewise, the increasing individualization (reinforced by personified consumption and gradual loss of community ties) has turned out to be a critical factor that is both a driver as well as a social outcome of change. Among those core social consequences most closely associ-ated with rising individualization in the political sphere is the demise of the classical concept of citizenship. Traditionally, good citizenship is envisioned as a genuine intention of acting for the good of others. The contemporary public sphere, primarily maintained through me-dia channels, in contrast, is progressively filled with the concerns and preoccupations of people only as individual consumers, thus leaving little room for the concerns of them as citizens engaged with com-mon issues. Speaking very generally, individualization destroys the core foundation of what the true public sphere is or what it could be. It challenges the principle of togetherness, of social co-existence. Hence finding consensus on important public issues becomes prob-lematic, and the ideal of public communication is reduced to sharing intimacies and personal confessions, or building-up of personal so-cial capital through newly available communicative means, such as Facebook or others. As seen, many of such harmful, even destructive, trends towards sensationalism, populism, political commodification and, equally, towards democratic fatigue, have found an echo in var-ious European states.

In spite of an uncertain future, few judgments, nevertheless, seem to be essential here. Democracy, as a political form, assumes engage-ment, commitments and participation. Equally so, effective partic-ipation and enlightened understanding of public matters are neces-sary preconditions of a working democracy. Speaking generally, such a view implies a basic orientation to public affairs. While it is difficult to identify in precise numbers the exact level and nature of desired public involvement and participation, it nonetheless is acceptable to question when and how media consumption contributes to public connectivity and interest in public matters, and when and why media fails to meet and adhere to these expectations.


As a test case for such an investigation, I propose to look at the tran-sitional societies. Although it may seem that Central and Eastern Eu-rope lives in an endless cycle of intense fluctuations and instability, and its social atmosphere is charged with feelings of uncertainty and flux, what creates such an impression, essentially, is not the societal change as such, but the abundance of urgent calls and requests in-spired by on-going social pressures. It is important to get hold of these pressures; but it is also important to capture all cultural aspects acting in those moments as well as their effects and outcomes.

So how exceptional is CEE experience in this respect? Do current social and cultural condition in Europe have anything to do with the period of changes and contemporary lifestyles in CEE? What are the most emblematic features of today’s CEE media? How various as-pects of CEE transition (roles and choices made by various political and social actors) have impacted on the media – its working condi-tions as well as its functions and missions?

FRONTIERS AND LIMITS OF CEE DEMOCRATIZATION

Among the most striking conclusions evolving from a significant number of available research studies on CEE is the finding that, gen-erally, all CEE elites (political and media including) are very polar-ized, very divided. On the other hand, social and political polariza-tion commonly registered in changing political environments may be seen as enthused by the climate of urgent requests for change, specific institutional conditions and extreme instabilities, and also treated as a natural outcome of changing elite preferences and de-cisions as to which course of action to take in regards to political decision making. Nonetheless, despite enduring changes and institu-tional weaknesses, one of the paradoxes observed across CEE is that many dominating institutions of societal power such as political par-ties, although having low public legitimacy2, are able to gain public attention and assemble necessary resources to gain adequate status, for example, by mobilizing public opinion during elections.

CEE politics, in general, is strongly influenced and shaped by its presence in the media. Having only fresh histories, low membership support and fragile organizational structures, the political parties are particularly dependent on and determined by the media, hence they employ enormous efforts to systematically control and manage pub-

2 Public support for political and social institutions in CEE is amongst the lowest across all European states. Its low (political and social) legitimacy is manifested through low institutional trust, low public engagement, low party memberships, low funding, and so forth.



lic opinion. Furthermore, politicians are genuinely convinced that the media have a major influence on voting habits and behaviours. Likewise, the media itself is not without sin – it is prone to heavy manipulation, populism, sensationalism, lifestyle issues and political consumerism. All this leads to a general feeling that politics and me-dia in most of CEE uphold their lifestyles through reciprocal cohab-itation and functioning symbiosis shaped through joint, clientelist interests.

In such a context, another evident inconsistency and paradox of social life in today’s CEE is that supplementary political and soci-etal components and structures that should instigate public control, awareness and associational participation, such as trade unions, civil society, professional independent media and others, are unusually weak or marginal. The existing dichotomy, ultimately, leads to a crit-ical condition.

Indeed, being generalized, this account of political and media work-ings, nonetheless, directs our attention to contextual features regulat-ing varied societal reactions and democratization in CEE. As could be seen from a brief examination of contextual qualities of the three Baltic countries (see Table 1), even nations with similarities in their most recent histories can generate varied outcomes in their transi-tion and expose different restrictions to media democratization. Thus one issue that should be addressed here is the question of what kind of democracy (i.e. political and economic conditions as well as attitudes and ways of life) is needed for the media to perform their agreed-upon normative functions.

One possible way to grasp those variations would be through insti-tutional and cultural examination. Institutionally speaking, many things (media laws and regulations, codes of ethics, institutions of media self-regulation) in the fields of Baltic media seem to be in place3. The picture, however, changes when socio-political condi-tions are examined and the media’s actual performance is assessed. In many respects, and specifically in media performance, Estonia ap-pears to be performing better than Latvia and Lithuania.

Why is the observed end-result as it is? How can these variations be explained? What are the contextual conditions determining media performance characteristics and qualitative outcomes?

3 Liberalization of markets and

privatization accompanied

by other rapid developments such

as technological diffusion

and cultural globalization

have indeed sped diversification of media structures

and pluralized content in CEE. Yet, although established

as democratic institutions with

all necessary and recognized

democratic attributes, the

mainstream media in CEE do not meet most of the conventional

prerequisites for professional

performance.


Indeed, the assortment of democratizations in CEE (and the Baltic countries) shouldn’t come as a big surprise. As seen from history les-sons, both the pre-communist as well as communist decades in those countries were as diverse as those of the new democracies turned out to be. Similarities could be found in democratization patterns across various countries of the same region, but only through historical and cultural analysis is one able to reveal where designs of today’s poli-tics, economic development, media performance or other qualities of social life are correlating with, or are shaped by, patterns of political

COMPARATIVE INDICATORS ESTONIA LATVIA LITHUANIA

BASIC STATISTICS

Population (Census 2011) 1,28 million 2,07 million 2,98 million

Dominant religions (2011)

16,2% Orthodox 9,9% Lutheran

34% Lutheran 24% Roman

Catholic 17,8% Orthodox

77,2% Roman Catholic

4,1% Orthodox

Major linguistic groups (EuroStat, 2011)

68,6% Estonians, 25,7% Russians, 3,3% Ukrainians

and Byelorussians

59% Latvians, 28% Russians, 4%

Byelorussians, 2% Poles, 1%

Lithuanians, 5% other

83,7% Lithuanians, 6,6% Poles, 5,3% Russians, 1,3% Byelorussians,

3,1% other language groups

International membership

(NATO, EU, Eurozone)NATO, EU (2004)Eurozone (2011)

NATO, EU (2004)Eurozone (2014)

NATO, EU (2004)Eurozone (2015)

GDP per capita (Eurostat, 2011) 11,900 EUR 9,800 EUR 10,200 EUR

SPECIFICS OF POLITICAL LIFE

Trust in institutions (Eurobarometer 2012)

16% (political parties)

35% (government) 29% (parliament)





Political and electoral participation4 (voter

turnout in last national parliament elections, European Parliament

elections)

63,5% (2011) 43,9% (2009 EP)

59,4% (2011) 53,7% (2009 EP)

35,7% (2012) 20,9% (2009 EP)

Perceived levels of corruption5, 2013

(country rank)28 49 43

Populist cleavages and Euroscepticism6 Low High High

Degree of political parallelism and socio-political polarization7

Low High Medium

Civic engagement and participation

(organizational membership – % of people that belong to at least one organization, EVS 2008)

40% 28% 26%

Table 1.

Comparative overview of selected country indicators.

4 Source: http://www.idea.int/index.cfm.

5 Source: http://cpi.transparency.org/cpi2013/results/.

6 Source: (Norkus, 2011).

7 Source: (Ornebring, 2012).



SPECIFICS OF MEDIA LIFE

First newspapers published in the country

‘Luhhike Oppetus’ (1766)

‘Latviesu Arste’ (1768)

‘Nusidavimai Dievo karalystėje’

(printed in Lithuania Minor,

1823)

Media use on daily basis (Eurobarometer 2012)

82% (TV) 64% (radio)

42% (written press) 64% (internet)

40% (social media and networks)

81% (TV) 55% (radio)

19% (written press) 63% (internet)


86% (TV) 55% (radio) 32% (written

press) 51% (internet)


Share of advertising in media – TV, newspapers

and Internet (TNS Gallup 2012)

TV (30,8% Newspapers

(26,8%) Internet (16,6%)

TV (45,1% Newspapers (9,0% Internet (15,4%)

TV (47,8%)Newspapers

(16,3%) Internet (10,0%)

The power and impact of PSB (TV and radio, TNS

Gallup 2011)

Audience market share: 15% ETV,

19,7% Vikerraadio Daily reach:

36% ETV, 23% Vikerraadio

Audience market share: 8,8% LTV1, 9,5% Latvias Radio

1, 18,2% Latvias Radio 2

Daily reach: 28% LTV1, 8% Latvias

Radio 1, 15% Latvias Radio 2

Audience market share: 10,7% LRT TV, 20,8% LRT

Radijas Daily reach: 34%

LRT TV, 19% LRT Radijas

Levels of internetization (internet used in the past 3 months, Eurostat 2013)

80% (63% use internet daily or almost everyday)



Media advertising expenditure

(TNS Gallup 2012)72,5 (million, EUR) 70,9 (million, EUR) 99,4 (million,

EUR)

De-globalization of media ownership (foreign media owners that left the Baltic countries as a result

of the global economic crisis 2008-2011)

Dailies ‘Postimess’ and ‘Eesti Paevalehti’ (Schibsted)

Daily ‘Diena’ (Bonnier Media)

Free daily ‘15 min’ (Schibsted)

Oligarchization assessments8 (local media moguls/media owners and

their political leanings)Low High Medium

Media performance calculations (Freedom

House, Reporters Without Borders)

16 (FH 2013, free) 11 (World Press Freedom Index,

2013)


2013)


2013)

THE ROLE, POLICIES (AND INTERVENTIONS) OF THE STATE

Social policies9 (total general government

expenditure as a percentage of total

spending, 2011)

8,3% (general public services)

12,0% (economic affairs) -0,9%

(environmental protection)

13,3% (health) 16,9% (education)

34,2% (social protection)


14,5% (economic affairs) 1,9%





10,6% (economic affairs) 2,5%




VAT for media, and Availability of

public media support foundations

9% (standard is 20%)



Yes (‘Press, Radio and TV Support

Foundation’)

8 Source: (Stetka, 2013).

9 Source: http://epp.eurostat.ec.europa.

eu/statistics_explained/index.

php/Statistics_in_focus.


decision making, social and economic policies designed by elites and other choices made in those countries in the critical moments during the twenty-five years of post-communist change.

A number of lines of examination according to which the present-ed data (see Table 1) could be studied seem to be noteworthy here. What strikes me most from such a comparison are the significant variations of political engagement data, institutional trust and the general feeling of happiness as seen from the section on satisfactions with how democracy is working in the country, and might also be detected from selected socio-economic indicators, such as data on emigration, investments and popularity of education initiatives as well as others. As commonly assumed, absence of associational and consensus oriented political culture seriously distorts contemporary politics and social well-being and affects other societal outcomes (such as individualism, confrontations, social and political polar-ization). Following such lines of thinking, it could be argued that uneven, weak associational structures, which traditionally should be sustained through varied public communications channels and net-

SPECIFICS OF SOCIAL LIFE AND SUBJECTIVE WELL-BEING

Public satisfactions with how democracy is

working in the country10

50% (rather happy) 21% (rather unhappy)

29% (difficult to say)

23% (rather happy) 63% (rather unhappy)


15% (rather happy)

40% (rather unhappy)


Labor market conditions (unemployment and

youth unemployment, Eurostat 2012)

12,5%

19,3% (youth unemployment)

16,2%

24% (youth unemployment)

15,4%

24% (youth unemployment)

Socio-economic signs such as emigration

In the period 1990-2010 about 10%

(or about 150,000 people) of Estonia’s population of 1990 are registered n.a.

n.a.

In the period 1990-2011,

728,700 people emigrated

from Lithuania (about 20% of the country’s population of

1990s) 2010 is registered as peak year with

83,500 people departing

% Of the population considered to be at-

risk-of-poverty or social exclusion in 2011

23,1% 40,4% 33,4%

Tertiary education, and Lifelong learning, OECD

2010

27,9%

12,0% (lifelong learning)

28,9%


29,2%


10 Source: (Lauristin and Vihalemm, 2011).



works, do not contribute to critical discourse development and do not infuse other public actions, such as public criticism and control over other powers (political, economic) in society.

Although the above example of data analysis gives only a brief report of all particularities of political system changes in the three countries, it is not difficult to notice they stem from choices and decisions made by the elites in critical times of politico-economic transformations in the Baltics. Estonia was the only country whose newly elected demo-cratic government implemented very radical (‘shock therapy’) types of market reforms, while Latvia and especially Lithuania were more cautious and opted for much more gradual, so-called ‘calculated’ and ‘negotiated’ approaches (Norkus, 2011). It could be argued that the continuity of particular cultural appearances (as manifested through different agreements and negotiations between elites) has distinctive characteristics observed in today’s institutional performances and or-ganizational cultures that shape it. Among those exceptional features, emblematic to transitional societies, should be mentioned a certain tradition of enduring interdependences and ‘calculated agreements’ leading to clientelist social forms and relations that further contrib-ute to the emergence of a ‘culture of dependency’, more emblematic to Latvia and Lithuania than to Estonia (Ornebring, 2012).

It looks like the countless successes of Estonia were born from a complex combination of historical, cultural and geographic factors, among which Lutheran modesty, social persistence, geographical de-terminism and ruthless pragmatism have the most obvious effects. All these affect the workings of democracy. Among those plausible explanations of the country’s contemporary advancements in terms of its media’s democratic institutionalization and its professionaliza-tion11 appears to be its historical continuities from both pre-com-munist and communist cultures and capacities to cultivate, within reasonable limits, a potential for moral choice and democratically useful experiences leading to formations of counter-elite cultures (Bennich-Bjorkman, 2007; Norkus, 2011). The liberal idea of equal opportunities and a profound respect for individuality (rather than the notion of equal outcome), already formed decades ago, aptly characterizes the predominant mentality of this small nation in the present times as well12. The specific features of such mentality are uncovered in a number of outcomes of post-communist transforma-

11 Here the results of Freedom House (FH) assessments are taken into the

account which rank Estonia the highest

among the CEE countries (see Table

1 and FH rank for Estonia 16).

12 Here it is important to

stress that it is not individualism as

ruthless self-interest that could have

been seen in inter-war Estonia, but

rather individualism combined with

respect to the actions of others,

also to communal practices, which

endured throughout the twentieth into

the twenty first century.


tions, predominantly in low politization and oligarchization, higher satisfaction with democratic structures and their functioning, lower levels of socio-economic divergence (such as unemployment, pover-ty, emigration) also distressing political and media climate.

It indeed appears to be thinkable that conflictual political culture, which is fashioned by deeply polarized, very divided elites (especial-ly in Latvia and Lithuania), is the main cultural apparatus that in-stigates and sustains on-going battles. Media, too, is entrapped into those confrontations. Many of those are found in mainstream televi-sion; many of those are transferred into the Internet. Although con-tributing to pluralization, these furthermore support increasing frag-mentation, social polarization (and also politicization) of different groups, maintained through various opinion clusters functioning as ‘hotbeds of political opinions’. This furthermore affects segmentation and structuration of the public sphere into diverse parallel informa-tional fields accessed by respective users (Balčytienė, 2012).

Briefly, in the longer perspective, such developments might become critical for democracy. If the country’s public sphere is saturated with controversial, polarized, conflictual, divergent issues, its citizens, correspondingly, find themselves as permanently, deliberately unin-formed, manipulated and misrepresented voters. Their disappoint-ment and gradual withdrawal from public life is also programmed by political and media performances – hence it is no surprise that conflict, disagreement, volatility and flux (and therefore the lack and absence of long-term political thinking and public policy visions) ap-pears to be amongst the most illustrative features of today’s political and social life in the Baltics.

WHERE DANGERS LIVE

Indeed, ours is a self-absorbed age. It is an age of declining partici-pation in the electoral process, of declining institutional legitimacy. Contrary to these developments and observations, this is also the age of intensity, of increasing choice, of pluralization. It is an age of individualized encounters, of selective public exposures. Democra-tization processes are not excluded from these information usage effects. Changes in media production and usage routines directly touch upon the citizens’ knowledge of politics. As already warned, many contemporary lifestyles and information exposures happen



to be threatening to democracy: constant and nearly exclusive en-counters with like-minded viewpoints will gradually lead to group polarization. It certainly may limit the diversity of arguments that viewers posses. It might also influence a citizens’ political attitudes and beliefs. But the most uncertain issue here is the question of what the democratic consequences of selective political exposure is or could be. Clearly, such developments also raise anxieties about the function and normative missions of (impartial, objective, balanced) professional journalism.

Instead, our societies are represented mainly through the media worlds that maintain almost a perfect selection of sources that con-form neatly and reliably to one’s prior beliefs and expectations. It appears even more obvious that the manipulative and commercial logic and marketing strategies of advertisers, not the technology per se, must be accused for causing the fragmentation of society. Media offer specialized content and formats that allow advertisers to target desired populations more effectively. This leads to a ‘customization’ of media products and, furthermore, to encounters of individuals with other like-minded individuals living in their own personally constructed worlds – ‘diasporic communities’ as named by Zygmunt Bauman – focused on self-exposers, intimacies and confessions.

With increasing fragmentation and social polarization, and with control partially transferred to individual information consumers, professional journalism is in danger of gradually losing its previously held dominant ‘expert’ status. This partial ‘de-professionalization’ of journalism, alongside the increasing popularity and use of the In-ternet and social media and other sources, seems to indicate funda-mental industrial change.

It appears that some markets seem to be more vulnerable to such developments than others. As noted, certain attributes – particularly, weak civic culture and the potentially strong role of television – may create potentially favourable conditions for the emergence of defi-nite trends. This, when coupled with the rise of consumer oriented news production, results in fewer quality opportunities for the in-terested public to give an account of changes in their closest realities and their social surroundings. These developments lead to another dramatic observation in the mainstream media, which is its obvious


loss of public trust. Although in many Western countries the media still maintain high trust, in the transitional democracies of CEE, the public trust in mass media has dropped to its lowest position in the last decade. These developments, however, are an outcome of both – the neoliberal capitalist shifts in the media industry towards ag-gressive commercialism, and also the on-going diversification of all media products towards more individual-interests focused, special-ized, niche, and alternative productions.

All in all, increasing social polarization and audience fragmentation, growing societal diversity, declining impartiality and objectivity in journalism, and the steady loss of credibility and trust in the mass media are becoming fixed features of our contemporary world. In-dividualized, selective or accidental exposure affects how people reason about, react to, and act in the political world. As warned by Gross (2009), Mancini (2013) and many others, fragmented media don’t play that vital function of social integration that could foster necessary negotiations and agreements among the involved publics. It doesn’t foster the kind of common knowledge and opinions that could make possible a more integrated, more inclusive and more dy-namic society, which would be open to change and interdependence.

RESUME

It still appears that economy is a strong determinant of media work-ing conditions, particularly its independence, though this is not al-ways a sufficient reason. A close correlation between higher GDP scores and higher media freedom and accountability assessments is seen in various international media evaluations (see Table 1). Still, economic policies and market conditions need to be supported with certain cultural norms of life, visions and ideals of how democracy should function in the country and how political life should contrib-ute to it. As argued here, political thinking and decisions instigated and made by Baltic elites, already in critical times of post-communist transition (in the early 1990s), appear to also be crucially essential in shaping cultural and media policies of today13. Democratization research also puts a very strong emphasis on the country’s socio-eco-nomic dynamics and its emancipation; it argues that the existence of wealthy, educated, middle-class earners is crucially important in boosting informed public participation in common affairs. None-

13 These could be observed predominantly in design of economic policies (such as media subsidies, VAT exemption, openness to international investors, and others) that also define and determine conditions of media democratic functioning (Stetka, 2013).



theless, this issue also appears questionable. As seen from audience analyses, today’s media users are enthused by matters of choice and differentiation, rather than by issues of agreement and common con-cern.

One of the principal tasks of this paper was to disclose varying me-dia working conditions across Europe (by using an example of the three Baltic countries), but by doing this it also aimed to show that similarities in new social trends (such as arising individualized con-sumption and media fragmentation) are also found in larger and smaller markets, in stronger and weaker economies. Consequences and outcomes of those trends, however, tend to be contextually (and thus culturally) bound, thus their outcomes and consequences are culturally differentiated.

Related to this latter statement, a number of warnings ask to be list-ed here. As seen from this discussion, the critical effects and social consequences of various developments are more straightforwardly noticed to take place in transitional societies of Central and Eastern Europe – in the countries where the idea of common good is weaker, where the rules of the game are weaker and more flexible, and no agreements and fixed directions are yet standardized.

Another notice is that older European democracies are not immune to the arising changes. And they are not excluded from those poten-tially to be affected by trends of individualization and polarization as well. As discussed here, the challenges of declining revenues from traditional advertising, shifting audience preferences and decreasing political engagement should also not be overlooked in the countries that so far have effectively escaped most on-going social fluctuations. In the countries where traditions of media financial support from various resources are stronger (for example, through state funding and financial subsidies, or public donations and local initiatives), ef-fects of these developments (media financialization, political pop-ulism, sensationalism) on the general media climate may not be as harsh as in the markets (Central and Eastern Europe, Southern Eu-rope), where such public support models are not that well-developed.

To say it very generally, in most of Western Europe, also in select-ed CEE markets, conditions for journalism are quite favourable and promising. Markets are quite stable, state policies for media support


are functioning, and media culture is heavily influenced by ideas of public empowerment and inclusion. Whereas in the Central and Eastern European states which, for the past two decades, have been struggling with various instabilities and were severely hit by the glob-al economic crisis (for e.g., Latvia), outcomes of changing media cli-mate (both of economic and social conditions) are less reassuring. All in all, all issues discussed here (such as individualization, social and political polarization) should be assessed as matters of rising significance and universal concern. Their actual outcomes as well as their cultural variations, though, will only be seen later.

REFERENCES

Bajomi-Lazar, P. (2013). The Party Colonization of the Media: The Case of Hungary. East European Politics and Societies and Cultures, Vol. 27(1), 69–89. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/0888325412465085.

Balčytienė, A. (2012). Dependencies, Parallelisms, and Connections: Central and East European Media as Systems in Flux. Media Trans-formations, Vol. 8, 48–70. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.7220/2029-865X.08.03.

Bennet, L. W. (2012). The Personalization of Politics: Political Iden-tity, Social Media, and Changing Patterns of Participation. The AN-NALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, Vol. 644, 20–39. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/0002716212451428.

Bennich-Bjorkmann, L. (2007). The Cultural Roots of Estonia’s Suc-cessful Transition: How Historical Legacies Shaped the 1990s. East European Politics and Societies, Vol. 21(2), 316–347. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/0888325407299785.

EHDR (2011). Estonian Human Development Report: Baltic Way(s) of Human Development – Twenty Years On. Tallinn.

Gross, P. (2009). The Menace of Post-Objective Journalism in the U.S.A. In H. Bohrmann, E. Klaus, and M. Machill (eds.), Media In-dustry, Journalism Culture and Communication Policies in Europe. Koln: Herbert von Halem Verlag.



Lauristin, M., and Vihalemm, P. (2011). Satisfaction with Outcomes of Baltic Transition in Spring 2011. Estonian Human Development Report 2010/2011. Tallinn: Eesti Koostoo Kogu, pp. 19–22.

Mancini, P. (2013). Media Fragmentation, Party System, and De-mocracy. The International Journal of Press/Politics, Vol. 18(1), 43–60. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1940161212458200.

Nieminen, H. (2010). The Unravelling Finnish Media Policy Consen-sus? In D. Levy and R. Nielsen (eds.), The Changing Business of Jour-nalism and its Implications for Democracy. Oxford: RISJ, pp. 55–67.

Norkus, Z. (2011). Estonian, Latvian, and Lithuanian Post-commu-nist Development in the Comparative Perspective. EHDR: Estonian Human Development Report: Baltic Way(s) of Human Development – Twenty Years On. Tallinn: Eesti Koostoo Kogu, pp. 22–31.

Ornebring, H. (2012). Clientelism, Elites, and the Media in Central and Eastern Europe. The International Journal of Press/Politics, Vol. 17(4), 497–515. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1940161212454329.

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Stetka, V. (2013). Media Ownership and Commercial Pressures. Re-port presented at the Final MDCEE project conference ‘Media and Democracy” CEE in a Comparative Context’. The European Studies Center, St. Antony’s College, University of Oxford, July 9-11.

Trappel, J., and Meier, W. (2011). On Media Monitoring: The Media and Their Contribution to Democracy. NewYork: Peter Lang Publish-ing.

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30

Invisible Journalism? The political impact of investigative journalism in Hungary

INVISIBLE JOURNALISM? THE POLITICAL IMPACT OF INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM IN HUNGARY

Péter BAJOMI-LÁZÁ[email protected], PhD Head of Institute of Social SciencesBudapest Business SchoolBudapest, Hungary

Ágnes LAMPÉ[email protected], 168 ÓraLecturer, Media and Communication DepartmentELTE UniversityBudapest, Hungary

ABSTRACT: This paper briefly overviews the theory and history of investigative jo-urnalism and assesses the political impact of investigative reporting in post-commu-nist Hungary on the basis of a series of semi-structured interviews with award-win-ning investigative journalists.

KEYWORDS: democracy, investigative journalism, media effects, watchdog

ISSN 2029-865Xdoi://10.7220/2029-865X.09.03


INTRODUCTION: DO THE MEDIA REALLY HAVE POWER?

The media have power, it is widely held among members of the public, politicians, and journalists. The notion of the “fourth es-tate,” coined by Edmund Burke, refers to the optimistic view that, in democratic societies, journalists check on the political and business elites1. As Michael Schudson observes, “Representative democracy is a political system based on distrust of power and the powerful” (Schudson, 2003: 104). That this kind of political regime should rely on the separation of powers or, in a different approach, on a system of checks and balances, is warranted by the experience that even freely elected politicians make decisions that are driven by self-regarding interests rather than the public good and that they therefore need to be under public scrutiny. Under the “liberal” and the “social respon-sibility” models of the press, journalists are commonly expected to be the “watchdogs” of democracy, whose job it is to “bark” on behalf of the public whenever they disclose that the politicians use their powers for purposes other than their mandates allow them to (Sie-bert et al., [1956] 1963).

Of all journalists, investigative reporters are particularly expected to reveal cases that those involved try to hide from the public eye, es-pecially corruption – that is, instances when public money is trans-ferred into private pockets in illegitimate or illegal ways. The taxpayer has the right to know what the government spends his or her money on, as – in the words of Thomas Paine – “every man is a proprietor in government and considers it a necessary part of his business to understand […] because it affects his property” (Paine [1792] quoted by Peters, 1998: 62). Investigative journalism, which as a profession emerged in the Anglo-Saxon countries in the 19th century and was relatively rare on the European continent until the late 20th century (Hallin & Mancini, 2004), cannot be efficient unless news media are largely independent from both the political and business elites, or at least pluralistic enough so that outlets controlled by competing elites can mutually keep an eye on those elites. It is ideally followed by the correction of the mistakes exposed, while those responsible are held to account in both the political and legal senses of the term (Chalaby, 1996; Kunczik, 2001; Ószabó & Vajda, 2001; Schulz, 2002).

1 “There are three estates [i.e. the aristoc-racy, the clergy, and the middle classes] in Parliament, but in the Reporters’ Gallery yonder there sits a Fourth Estate more important than they are all” (Burke [1787] quoted by Horvát, 1997: 61).

32 Péter BAJOMI-LÁZÁR | Ágnes LAMPÉ


The history of journalism offers a number of examples that seem to demonstrate the case that investigative journalism may indeed have a deep impact on politics. William Howard Russell, correspondent of The Times during the Crimean War, reported in 1854 on the short-comings of medical care and catering for British troops; the resulting scandal contributed to the fall of the government in 1855 (De Burgh, 2000). Nellie Bly, the first undercover female journalist, who worked for Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World, feigned insanity in 1887 in order to be able to reveal how brutally patients were treated in the Women’s Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell’s Island; after the ensuing scandal, the government reformed the institution and increased its budget (Csillag, 2000). Ida Tarbell, one of the leading “muckraking” journalists2, exposed the monopolist endeavours of John D. Rocke-feller and the Standard Oil Company in McClure’s Magazine in 1902; as a consequence, legislators limited the power of trusts (Rivers & Mathews, 1988). Reports by the US television journalist Roberta Baskin have repeatedly forced business elites to take consumers’ in-terests into account; for example, after she had revealed, in 1980, that some beer brands contained cancer-causing agents, new regulations were passed, limiting the concentration of carcinogenic chemicals in beers (Baskin, 2001). The Guardian in Britain published a list of MPs who represented lobby interests in parliament, many of whom ultimately chose to resign; some say the scandal played a major role in the fall of the Conservative Party in the 1997 legislative elections (McNair, 1998). Robert Winnet exposed British MPs’ expenses scan-dal in The Daily Telegraph in 2009; as a consequence, several mem-bers of the House of Commons and of the House of Lords were pros-ecuted and sentenced to terms of imprisonment (Winnet & Rayner, 2009).

While the list of cases similar to those briefly described above could be continued, and most members of the public and of the journalism community have little doubt that the media have power, many me-dia scholars are sceptical about the media’s political impact. James Curran suggests that investigative reporting has but a limited po-litical impact even in established democracies such as the United Kingdom, which he attributes to the cleavages manifest within the British journalism community: the media are divided along political and business interests, that is, they do not represent the public at large but particular interest groups. Outlets loyal to the government

2 The term “muck-rakers” refers to a generation of inves-tigative journalists active in the United States in the begin-ning of the 20th century and was originally coined by President Theodor Roosevelt in disgust; however, many of them proudly embraced the term (Aucoin, 2002).


of the day are hostile toward those critical of it, and do not cover investigative reports in which other outlets disclose abuses of power by the government (Curran, 1997). István Wisinger notes about one of the most celebrated instances of investigative journalism, the Mc-Carthy case, revealed by Ed Murrow on CBS television between 1950 and 1954, that “the senator’s removal from office […] took a fairly long time” (Wisinger, 2008: 56)3. Daniel C. Hallin observes – when analysing Watergate, a series of stories published in The Washington Post between 1972 and 1974, which famously attracted many young people to the journalism profession and even inspired a movie4 – that Nixon, had he avoided confrontation, and had he had the majority in Congress, could probably have stayed in office. Hallin argues that Carl Bernstein’s and Bob Woodward’s investigative work was a neces-sary, but not sufficient, condition for Nixon to fall, and suggests that “myths of media power often lead us to avoid dealing with the reality of historical developments […] which may be disturbing to us” (Hal-lin 2001: 24; emphasis added). To be sure, what works in one country may not work in another. While the British MPs’ expenses scandal led to major political and legal consequences, the Hungarian MPs’ expenses scandal, occurring at about the same time and highly simi-lar in nature to the one in the United Kingdom, entailed virtually no political or legal sanctions at all, as it was countered in a joint effort by the political elites (Bajomi-Lázár & Tóth, 2010). The political in-stitutions and culture prevalent in a country may add to, or mitigate, the impact of investigative journalism on politics.

Investigative journalism emerged in the Austro-Hungarian Monar-chy in the beginning of the 20th century (Tomsics, 2006). In the in-terwar period, when Hungary regained independence but lost most of its former territories, and, at first, a centre-right then far-right authoritarian regime prevailed, it was practically non-existent. Un-der state socialism, which emerged after World War II in Hungary, journalists were expected to be the “soldiers of the party” rather than the “watchdogs of democracy.” Investigative journalism re-emerged toward the end of the 1980s when the party state was gradually los-ing ground. Its efficiency, however, has been frequently questioned by media scholars. When discussing abuses of power revealed by the media in the first ten years of the “Third Republic,” declared on 23 October 1989, Tamás Terestyéni introduces the concept of the “weakness of the public sphere” and suggests that media scandals

3 The McCarthy case inspired the movie Good Night, and Good Luck, co-written by George Clooney and Grant Heslov, directed by Clooney, and star-ring David Strathairn (2005).4 All the President’s Men, based on the book of the same name by Carl Bernstein and Robert Woodward, directed by Alan J. Pakula, and starring Dustin Hoffmann and Robert Redford (1976).



had undermined only temporarily the popularity of political parties, while those personally responsible for them got away without real sanctions (Terestyéni, 1999). According to Miklós Sükösd, who of-fers an analysis of the aftermath of investigative reports published in the political and cultural weekly Élet és Irodalom, such reports had a very limited impact: “there is no discussion, no reply, no reform of the system behind the scandal” (Sükösd, 2000: 19). On the basis of interviews conducted with senior editors, Emília Krúg confirms the theory of the “country with no consequences,” originally introduced by the political scientist and columnist Tamás Fritz (Krúg, 2007).

In the context of Hungary, Miklós Sükösd speaks of “clan journal-ism,” Éva Vajda of “campaign journalism,” and Mihály Gálik of “dos-sier-journalism” (Sükösd, 2000b; Vajda, 2001; Gálik, 2004). They all refer to the same phenomenon: Hungarian journalists oftentimes publicise information that has been leaked by various political forc-es and thus they are instrumentalised in political power games. In Hungary, where – like in many other former communist countries in Central and Eastern Europe – polarised pluralism prevails, most journalists, media outlets and media companies are informally as-sociated with political parties and interest groups, and tend to use double standards in reporting. The resulting black-and-white rep-resentations of reality create competing media agendas and news frames with little or no similar issues and readings; the reader/view-er/listener gathering information from different outlets on the very same day may have the impression that the journalists of competing media outlets live in different universes, not one and the same coun-try.

Sükösd, Vajda and Gálik all agree that investigative journalism, in the Anglo-Saxon sense of the term, is the exception rather than the rule in Hungary, which they explain with the lack of financial re-sources, the small Hungarian media market being unable to produce major profits that could be reinvested into investigative reporting, while suggesting that investigative journalism is a costly business. But statements about the lack of investigative journalism in Hunga-ry are, to a degree, countered by figures. The József Soma Göbölyös Foundation, which grants a specific award to investigative reporters, has received about 30 applications annually in recent years, which means that one major investigative piece was publicised every sec-

5 Email communi-cation by András Lőke, head of the board of the foun-dation (7 December 2013).


ond week on average5. It should then follow that there is investigative journalism in Hungary, and yet it remains invisible or unnoticed: it is largely inefficient in that the ensuing consequences fall short of public expectations. It is also noteworthy that most of the investi-gative reports are published in relatively low budget weekly maga-zines rather than more profitable news sites and television channels, but then this might also be explained by a division of labour among outlets: weeklies have traditionally been specialised in news analy-sis and background, while news sites and television channels in the daily news coverage of political events. Investigative journalism is, of course, more costly than mere news reporting; yet no evidence con-firms statements about a direct link between an outlet’s financial ca-pacities and the frequency and efficiency of its investigative activities.

This paper is to assess the political impact of investigative reporting in Hungary on the basis of a series of semi-structured interviews with seven award-winning investigative journalists who have exposed major scandals in the 2000s. It is focusing on the following questions: 1. Is there any meaningful investigative journalism in Hungary and, if so, is it any different from that in the Anglo-Saxon countries? 2. Do leading investigative journalists in Hungary ever encounter politi-cal and business pressures while doing their job? 3. Where does the information their reports are based on usually come from? 4. What consequences have followed the exposed corruption cases? Below is what they said6.

INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM IN HUNGARY AND IN THE ANGLO-SAXON COUNTRIES

‘There is investigative journalism in Hungary, but it is different from that in the United Kingdom and the United States where it is done on a higher level. There [in the above-mentioned Anglo-Saxon coun-tries], it is not exceptional for a case to be revealed in full detail, for society to boycott those behind it, and for the judiciary to do their job,” says Tamás Bodoky, who used to work for the news site index.hu and is now chief editor of atlatszo.hu. “In Hungary, the whole system is rotten, and corruption is the main rule. Political parties pretend to be at war with one another, but they are fighting within the frames of the system only. They know a lot about each other and, at the end of the day, make a deal.”

6 The interviews were conducted in August and September 2009 by Ágnes Lampé.



Erna Sághy, who used to work for the weekly Figyelő and is now em-ployed by HVG, agrees that the classic genre exists in Hungary. “An investigative journalist will go as far as he or she can to understand and to disclose the case. Such was for me the story of Omninvest while I worked for Figyelő. The company stated that they had dis-covered the remedy against bird flu in co-operation with the Office of the Surgeon General and would start producing the vaccine. At the press conference, I asked the Deputy Surgeon General a logical question: how much did the Hungarian state spend on this? At first, she did not reply, but then she said she could not speak of this. It became immediately clear that there was something wrong about all this. I, of course, went after the story, and got as far as a journalist can in disclosing where the state’s money had been channelled to.”

Antónia Rádi, of the weekly HVG, also thinks there is investigative journalism in Hungary – to the extent that the market can sustain it. “There is a need, contrary to allegations, for those who sell quality, not fake, journalism, even though sometimes the whole of the media make a mistake as they did when they released a statement by Attila Petőfi, head of the National Investigation Office, suggesting that the series of assassination attempts against the Roma was committed by a lone criminal, meaning ‘dear co-criminals, you may now come and denounce your fellows.’ Petőfi used the media to deliver a message to criminals.”7

According to András Pethő, of the news site origo.hu, the reality of the Hungarian media is completely different from that in the An-glo-Saxon countries. “American journalists often told me about the FBI or some other authority launching an investigation on the ba-sis of stories they had exposed. True, articles there are better doc-umented. Here, in Hungary, allegations are often questionable, and the articles are packed with deductive statements, journalistic spec-ulations, and unconfirmed information. Some journalists even fail to ask those involved to comment.” Pethő adds that “I may be lucky, but so far no correction request has been submitted, nor lawsuits have been launched against me. If I disclose a story in full detail, and can document all data, there should not be a problem.” Investigative reporting requires a specific journalistic mentality, he says: it is usu-ally practiced by those who go beyond the mere transmission of pri-mary information. “Should a big story come up in the Anglo-Saxon

7 In 2008 and 2009, nine attempts were committed against Roma communities in small villages by a gang of four, killing a total of six people, including a five-year-old boy.


countries, each and every outlet would go after it and treat it as their own. Thus there emerges a proper contest among news outlets, and follow-up is granted. By contrast, in Hungary, when an outlet deals with a story, other ones will likely ignore it,” Pető further explains.

Éva Vajda, who used to work for the weekly Élet és Irodalom and the bi-monthly Manager Magazin, thinks the situation in the Anglo-Sax-on countries is different in that the other sub-systems of society work better. “The reason why Watergate has become a major scandal is not that The Washington Post did not give up over time but that the investigation committee of the Senate and then the public prosecutor were doing their jobs properly. In a transition society like ours, you can hardly expect everything to work. Things just do not work. The press does not, either. It does not ask the real questions, but keeps speculating: what is behind the story, who has made a telephone call, and who is the major advertiser? It is doing a number of things it should not.”

POLITICAL AND BUSINESS PRESSURES

According to Nóra Somlyódy, of the weekly Magyar Narancs, under-funding is a major issue for investigative reporters in Hungary. “Cur-rently, you can hardly find an outlet that would be able to sustain investigative journalism or would have the ambition to do so. Inde-pendent sources, such as grants, may be accessed on an ad hoc basis, but often run out, while major cases cannot be uncovered from the funding available,” she says. “Still, I am optimistic. I hope the prestige of investigative reporting will improve over time, and, ten years from now, we will have a different situation.”

András Bódis, of the weekly Heti Válasz, agrees that money is a key question. “The problem with investigative journalism is that it is practiced by low-budget papers rather than profit-making commer-cial outlets.” Sometimes, the media owners are the obstacle. “Even though the article on Strabag was an issue with the publisher, the problem was solved, and Heti Válasz eventually published it,” Bódis adds8. This, however, may be rather uncommon, as the media often encounter a great deal of business pressure. “There is a network of companies in Hungary,” according to Bódis, “which controls nearly the whole media spectrum, from commercial television onwards, via quasi-party newspapers until local papers. It is not just greedy and

8 Highway and under-ground construction has been a major business in Hungary since the early 2000s. A company called Strabag has earned 360 billion forints (over one billion Brit-ish pounds) between 2003 and 2007. The company was said to be informally associ-ated with the Alliance of Free Democrats party, the minor coalition ally of the Hungarian Socialist Party between 2002 and 2008.



dirty party politics that is in control. The business sphere is no better. Moreover, party politics, media and business elites are mutually in-tertwined and overlapping and work as one single unit, as their key figures rely on and mutually support one another.”

According to Vajda, there are opportunities, one just needs to be ready to grab them. “In November 2005, we published on our front page an article about the fights between András Sugár and Elek Straub in the Matáv-case9. I had spoken with 40 people, so I had an insider’s view on the company, I had my sources. We could write about Straub’s dismissal because we had covered, earlier, the company in detail. I did not need to be friends with the company accountant so that he or she could be my whistle-blower,” she recalls. “No one should be afraid of lawsuits. It is the fault of the media if they decide not to publicise an article for fear. Those involved in a particular case would often give it a try [and threaten the outlet with a lawsuit]. True, one needs to be able to recognise when a client’s outrage is well-founded, when stakes are high, and when mistakes would entail serious finan-cial risks [for the outlet]. But we should not throw away our pens just because someone somewhere does not like what we are writing about,” Vajda adds.

WHERE DOES THE INFORMATION COME FROM?

“The basic idea and information are usually leaked. Journalists them-selves rarely find a trace. Most of the time, it is a rival [of the ones involved in a corruption case] who sends them an anonymous let-ter or email,” says Bodoky. “My article about the off-shore billions of the Hungarian Electricity Private Limited Company was based on a letter that had been mailed in a post office in the city of Tatabánya and including ten pages from an inner report of the company. It was written in an accountant’s language and had no name on it, but it was good enough for me to start investigating. It took me almost six months, I had to gather a great deal of information about the com-pany, including from abroad, and I spoke with at least twenty people, always personally.” Sometimes all Bodoky has in the beginning is a name, just as he did when he started to write an article about the National Research and Technology Office transferring research and development funds to off-shore companies.

9 Elek Straub, CEO of the telecommu-nications company MATÁV/Magyar Telekom, resigned in 2006, two years be-fore the expiry of his mandate, after the company had been fined for channelling money to off-shore companies.


Rádi says her paper never pays for information, but adds she does not think this method should always be dismissed. “These days, people are trying to sell complete files and secret tapes. Data coming from sources like that can at best be considered basic information. Every detail needs to be double-checked and verified.” When reading the company register, annual reports, public tenders and other data bas-es, Rádi often finds information on her own that she can use. “This is how I found the Kaya Ibrahim story and ultimately got to the compa-nies of Lajos Simicska who, at the time, worked as an entrepreneur10. The idea to study his companies – which had already attracted some media attention in the early 1990s – occurred to me when I heard the news that he would be appointed head of the national tax authority. In a similar vein, I found the basic information accidentally when I exposed how the National Development Agency had transferred 200 million forints11 to [the private commercial television channel] TV2 for the soap opera ‘Good Days, Bad Days’ in order for them to in-clude in the script a story about a tender advertised by the European Union [in 2008].”

“Information would not fly in through your window,” says Sághy, who always conducts a number of background interviews before she finds information that she thinks is worth to be exposed in more detail. “I often receive documents, too, but I always try to find out whose interest it is to ‘inform’ me. I make sure no ‘helpers’ lead my hand. Journalists can find the key information if they try.” Sághy was the first to report about the case of the faked invoices former Min-ister of Finances János Veres and his business partner János Kabai had been involved in. “Veres says he had quit the company before the crime was committed. I was, however, told [...] that invoices had been faked earlier, too, that is, at the time Veres still worked for the company. In fact, the minister later quit the company so that the au-thorities would lose sight of him while he could continue operating the system unnoticed. I, of course, treated this piece of information with criticism,” she says. “Kabai had already been prosecuted and sentenced at the time. I wanted to read his file, but I was thrown out of the office of Chief Judge Zoltán Lominiczi as many as five times, based on a law, passed in 2003, which was a serious limitation on press freedom and which basically provided that only those involved had the right to see criminal files.” At the end of the day, however, Sághy reached the court. By virtue of a directive issued in the late

10 Lajos Simicska, par-ty cashier of the cen-tre-right Fidesz party, was involved in the Kaya Ibrahim/Josip Tot case during which, in 1998, ownership of about a dozen companies informally associated with Fidesz was transferred to two immigrant workers, as a result of which the losses and debts of the companies accumulated in previous years became unredeemable.

11 Nearly 600,000 British pounds.



1990s, journalists could take a look at the files of on-going criminal investigations with the special permission of the head of the court. “This is how I got the opportunity. They placed four huge boxes in front of me, all full of documents, statements, and other investiga-tion files. None of it was of any use, but I found a sheet attached to it: an indictment by a former suspect who had delivered the faked invoices at a time when Veres was still among the owners. This was the basic information I needed so that I could start work. Step by step, I got the whole picture about the ‘invoice factory’ operated un-der Veres. But the idea that I found the information myself escaped the minister who was convinced that his opponents had delivered it to me. I must add that after a scandal of a similar scale, the one re-sponsible would immediately resign [in a more democratic country]. Here, however, politics defended Veres.” The only consequence of the case was that the directive enabling journalists to take a look at criminal files was cancelled.

According to Pethő, the information needs to be double-checked in all possible ways. Most of the time, he himself finds the story. “Every now and then, I take a look at publicly available data released by the ministries. In 2007, I found a contract on the web page of the Office of the Prime Minister about a study that turned out to be a patchwork of various materials [published elsewhere earlier]. After I published the article, an acquaintance of mine gave me a phone call: ‘Let us meet if you are interested in similar cases.’ He told me about a company receiving commissions worth millions of forints from the National Development Agency without a public contest. After the story about the Office of the Prime Minister came out, the dep-uty chief secretary of Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsány was fired. But the one about the National Development Agency had no con-sequences whatsoever, as it was more complicated and they could find an explanation more easily.” Pethő further recalls that “after a while, one piece of information will bring you another. After the ar-ticle about the National Development Agency came out, I read all the comments received. One of them suggested to me that its author was very well-informed. I wrote to him, we began to exchange emails, and he sent me plenty of useful background information whose re-liability I could double-check using other sources. I started work in early February 2008, and the first article was ready for publication in March. The next article took me three months to write, even though


I also worked on some other, minor, stories in the meantime.”

Vajda suggests that the situation was much better ten years ago than it is now. The political culture was more constructive and there was more hope that this place will once become a normal country. “It was not easy, but you could convince people that as a journalist you wanted to write about the real world and needed no bullshitting. Thus during our background interviews our informants often told us the truth. When I worked for Élet és Irodalom, we too have received packages with documents. But, before publicising the information, we always double-checked it. The point was not who had delivered it to us and for what reason, as we often found that the true story was not what the sender wanted it to be. Today you have many more ‘tar-geted stories,’ which is partly because everything is politicised, and partly because now you have a number of PR experts, and those of them who are true professionals know how to mislead journalists, many of whom are just too lazy to rephrase a press release.” Every story is ‘targeted’ in some way, as was the case with the ‘duel’ between István Kocsis and vice-mayor of Budapest Miklós Hagyó in 2009. “We published a portrait about Kocsis, CEO of the Budapest Public Transportation Company, some years ago in Manager Magazin, but the press at the time was not interested enough to confront him with his past, even though as the chief privatiser at the State Privatisation Agency he had played a key role in many important cases since the mid-1990s. In a proper country, every aspect of his life would have been exposed long ago. But in Hungary, those in the journalism pro-fession have not made a self-assessment in twenty years. They blame it all on politics, saying that those are not doing their jobs properly,” Vajda adds.

Unknown or anonymous informants reach Magyar Narancs, too. “We treat these stories, data and documents with caution. We take a look at the source and take into account what interests may be served, should the case be exposed. The public image of the journal-ist, according to which he or she relies on ready-made information and uses it immediately and without criticism, is just fake,” says Som-lyódy. “Once the freshly appointed CEO of a major company called us, saying that he would like to expose the misdeeds of his predeces-sor, but we always keep our distance. Magyar Narancs usually does its own research and investigation. It is important for us to gather data



from various sources, not just those involved, and to confirm every piece of information. One source is never enough.”

Bódis also dislikes “ready-made” materials. “It is always fishy, as jour-nalistic control is missing. We too have received the package about the Budapest Transportation Company and the Hungarian Elec-tricity Private Limited Company that was mailed from the city of Tatabánya, but we did not use it, as this would have been a ‘timed’ and ‘directed’ story that has not been exposed by a journalist. That is not investigative reporting. Besides, it would have unfolded a chain reaction, the media being instrumentalised. To be sure, the Budapest Transportation Company ‘bomb’ was a precedent: had it not explod-ed, we would never have learnt about the primes paid at the company. Under the pressure of some articles, new guarantees were eventually built in the system.”12 Bódis adds that the general view of the media is that they would release any information immediately. “Politicians are convinced that the media use ‘ammunition’ received from else-where. This is indeed the case some of the time, when the media are just a puppet. For example, communication was ‘directed’ when the case of the UD Joint Stock Company was revealed13. György Szilvásy, the minister in charge of the supervision of the secret services, gave instructions to four journalists on a daily basis about what to write and how to do it. What would you call a journalist like that? I think it is fundamental that the journalist should be in control.” Bódis has re-peatedly found news stories by accident and then, using information obtained earlier, he discovered how these were interrelated. “For ex-ample, the Dataplex case, involving [former minister of economics] János Kóka, began by accident and was based on a piece of informa-tion found eighteen months earlier14. The Sukoró case began when someone paid a visit to the mayor of a Budapest district and saw a document on real estate development on his desk. That person could take a look at the dossier, and I met him by accident, and these small pieces of information were enough for me to get started.”15

NO CONSEQUENCES?

“What is important is not what the desperate or the scammed leak; this is how it goes everywhere. What is a true ‘Hungaricum’ is that most of the exposed stories have no consequences. This is, however, no surprise, as both the Office of the Attorney and the police are

12 The story of high and possibly unwarranted primes at the Budapest Pub-lic Transportation Company became a major scandal in 2009–2010 and likely played a major part in the fall of the socialist government in the 2010 elections.

13 This complicated case, which began in 2008 and is still on the agenda, suggests that secret service methods were used in order to gather data on senior poli-ticians and involved representatives of the Hungarian Democratic Forum and of the Hungari-an Socialist Party.

14 Various state-owned companies controlled by the minister of economics made contracts between 2005 and 2010 with the private company Dataplex, part of the portfolio of Wallis, that had earlier been owned by future prime minister Gordon Bajnai. According to allegations, the state suffered a 1.2 billion forints loss in total.


under [political] control, which is not the journalist’s fault,” accord-ing to Bodoky. He adds that there are some refreshing exceptions that may give journalists a sense of success. “In connection with what happened on 23 October 2006, we managed to modify the narra-tive about ‘legitimate’ police intervention16. We received a number of readers’ letters and phone calls saying that things had not been quite the way the police were framing them. Of these, I did not deal with anonymous sources, as I needed concrete stories.” Bodoky exposed Gergely Varga, former spokesman of the Office of the Budapest At-torney, too. “I went to court hearings to report on them, and once, there was Varga, shouting at the witnesses and ‘warning’ them of the consequences of false witnessing. One of them recorded this on his cell phone. At the time, we did not know yet that Varga also worked as an attorney. And then, when in January 2008 he became the spokesman of the office, we found the recording. He was eventually fired, that is, he could no longer work as a spokesman, but continued work as an attorney. Since then, his other businesses have also been exposed. The other day he was caught while bribing someone, and he had an intimate relationship with one of his clients.”

In 2000, network administrators whispered to Bodoky that the Of-fice of National Security installed hacking servers with internet ser-vice providers. Ervin Demeter, the minister supervising the secret services at the time, first did not give a straight answer, but Bodoky kept on asking him questions, so eventually he admitted it at a press conference. However, a number of cases have had no consequenc-es. “Back in the day, government sources leaked information about some doubtful business transactions which had taken place under the previous government at a public utility company owned by the state. I went after the story and figured out that the incumbent gov-ernment was not completely innocent in those business transactions either. When I revealed the case, they were threatening to file a law-suit against me, and a major state-owned company called us to say they would withdraw their ads. At the end of the day, politics won, I could not go on with the story,” says Bodoky. Another case, howev-er, was publicised: someone in the sports committee of parliament had signed an official document instead of his fellow party members. “When we exposed the case, they were threatening us and said they would go to the police, even though a graphologist had confirmed that all signatures were of the same hand. At the end of the day, I

15 A major project to build a casino com-plex near Budapest was launched under Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsány. According to allegations, the transaction by which land was sold to a company for the in-vestment made a huge loss to the state. The case is still pending.

16 On the anniversary of the 1956 revolution, demonstrators began major riots in the streets of Budapest that were crushed by the police. Even though many of the demonstrators’ actions were violent in nature, the opposition blamed the government for the brutality of the police action.



myself denounced them for faking the document, and the case went up to the Office of the Chief Attorney, but it was eventually hushed up. The party involved fired an administrator, and the investigation was terminated. Yet parliament outvoted the Chief Attorney in con-nection with the case,” Bodoky continues.

By contrast, Rádi thinks a good article is the very consequence. “Should the court or the police prosecute the bad guys, the journalist would also be harassed, his or her documents confiscated, and he or she would be questioned about who the informants were. I would not appreciate that.” Yet she too has had cases with legal consequences. “I disclosed in an article how Imre Ragács, former CEO of Hungarian Television, commissioned the company of his adopted daughter to produce television programmes. He was charged for malfeasance.” The journalist of HVG has not been threatened personally but has been sued many times. “This is not Russia; the barons with a life-long history of misdeeds would not hurt us. True, I never sign my articles about the far-right, as I would not like to see my flat exploded by a Molotov cocktail.” Rádi finds that those who feel offended by an article prefer to launch a lawsuit in defence of their personal rights, claiming between 800,000 and 1,000,000 forints in compensation17. And this is not including the lawyers’ fee, which may amount to hun-dreds of thousands of forints in addition. “To be sure, no publisher is happy about that. But HVG has never refrained from the publication of an article under threat or pressure. It should be noted that correc-tion replies are hardly ever submitted to the paper. Recompense is a big business. “There are lawyers specified in this field, looking for cases and clients, and offering their services. Basically anyone can be sued for just about anything. If I quote, word by word, a press con-ference, an official statement, or a speech delivered in parliament, I can easily find myself in the court. No other country in the world has a regulation like that. A BBC journalist would not understand,” Rádi explains18.

Sághy exposed, while still working for Figyelő, malfeasances by the Centrum Parking company. Even though outdoor posters all around Budapest advertised the story with the front page of the paper on, at first there was no reaction whatsoever. The article had a striking message: the leading parties – the centre-right Fidesz party and the centre-left Hungarian Socialist Party – had, behind the scenes, joint-

17 About 2600 British pounds.

18 After the interview was conducted with Rádi, in late September 2009, Hungarian parlia-ment amended the relevant provision of the Civic Code and cancelled the ’objectivity clause’ limiting journalists’ freedom.


ly established and run the car parking business. “Then the Hungarian Democratic Forum party held a press conference, [party chair] Ibol-ya Dávid waving around Figyelő and calling for an investigative com-mittee to be established in parliament. The case provided her with an opportunity to act in public; this is when the party’s anti-corrup-tion campaign was announced. That is how the whole country learnt about the article and I got invited to a number of television shows [to tell about the case]. Centrum sued us, but we won the case.” Sághy has had several lawsuits. “But I have not received one serious threat, ever. When you go public, you are under protection. They may be threatening to launch a lawsuit against you in order to scare you off, but you do not need to take it seriously all of the time. Just deal with it.”

Vajda does not share the general scepticism about the impact of in-vestigative reporting. “Some of my articles did have an impact. In-cluding on me. We published an article in Manager Magazin in 2006 about why Hungarian Telecom did not have an annual balance and suggesting that Elek Straub, CEO of the company, would likely be dismissed over the investigation, which eventually happened. True, in the meantime, the owner of the paper dismissed us, while Straub continues to be a respected member of society. Perhaps this is what most journalists have in mind when they say articles have no conse-quences. But this view is a reflection of Eastern European structures and of the sense that those who have power can do whatever they like as they will get away with it, no matter what. At the same time, journalists also use it for the purpose of self-justification.”

According to Somlyódy, recent experiences have shown that it is an illusion to expect investigative articles to lead to direct consequences. “But a well-documented case can be of use at a later point in time, as it can become a source. Despite what you often see, written facts are not just being ‘out there’ but may have an impact on public opinion. An interesting case is that of the real estate business in Budapest’s District 719. It has been explored in detail by various journalists, yet one may have had the impression that it would have no consequenc-es, should there be no political pressures. But an article by itself is never enough to reach legal consequences,” she adds. Lawsuits and the threats of lawsuits are common with Magyar Narancs as well. “Statements like ‘I will never buy Magyar Narancs again,’ ‘I will never

19 Various buildings in District 7, whose municipality was of a socialist and liberal majority, were transferred to foreign investors below their market price in the mid-2000s. After an investigation was launched, several local politicians were arrested.



give an interview to you again,’ and ‘I am going to sue you if you publish this’ are made on a daily basis. This is a threat, psychologi-cal warfare, rather than anything else. Our chief editor goes to court every week. And the law is not on our side: when facing the court, the paper has to prove its statements, not those involved their inno-cence,” she continues.

But wonders do happen, sometimes. “In connection with the Sukoró case, we saw what had never been seen in Hungary before,” accord-ing to Bódis. “Technological details of the land exchange were inves-tigated at the initiative of the Office of the Attorney and forwarded to the Office of the Chief Attorney.” Bódis has been sued repeatedly, too. “I could sue myself for every single article I have ever written. Lawsuits usually focus on words and expressions rather than on sub-stance. For this reason, I do not make statements in my articles any more but circumscribe the information in order to avoid being sued for violation of personality rights or libel. [Former Minister of Edu-cation and senior member of the Alliance of Free Democrats party] Bálint Magyar makes a fortune suing journalists for huge sums. But I have never been seriously threatened. To be sure, the ‘big fish’ do not give you a phone call. They just let you know that they would like to place an advertisement in your paper for a huge amount of money. Business influences are much more common [than political influences] and happen all across the Hungarian media.”

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS: MYTHS AND EXPERIENCES

The lessons of the interviews conducted with award-winning inves-tigative reporters can be summarised like this:

1. The majority of the interviewees agree that the quality of investigative journalism in Hungary falls short of that in the Anglo-Saxon countries. In particular, many reports are often based on speculation rather than well-documented facts.

2. According to the majority of the interviewees, Hungarian investigative reporters are put under political and business pressures every now and then, but these pressures are light-er than in those post-communist countries – such as Russia – where investigative reporters’ health and life is, some of


the time, also at risk.

3. The interviews suggest that the largely pessimistic pic-ture drawn by media researchers needs to be reconsidered to a degree. Schematic views about “clan journalism,” “dos-sier-journalism,” or “campaign journalism” may be at odds with facts. While the interviewees confirmed that compet-ing elites try to instrumentalise the media in their power games and, for this purpose, leak information that may be detrimental to the reputation of their rivals, most journalists treat the information received with scepticism and do their best to double-check it; moreover, they try to uncover cor-ruption themselves. There hardly is any general rule defin-ing the extent of autonomy Hungarian investigative report-ers have when dealing with the information they get hold of and when searching for abuses of power by themselves; such practices are largely dependent of the professional ethos of their newsrooms and their personal devotion to profession-al ethics.

4. The majority of the interviewees question the general view that investigative reporting has no consequences – but then the interviewees do not represent the Hungarian jour-nalistic community (as we interviewed only those whose investigative reports have made some noise). While spec-tacular cases of investigative reporting such as Watergate in the United States or the MPs’ expenses scandal in the United Kingdom are not known in the brief history of Hungary’s Third Republic20, Hungarian investigative reporters have repeatedly forced those involved in corruption and other abuses of power to explain and to defend their position, and some of the protagonists of their investigative reports have resigned – to be sure, people like that had occupied lower ranks in the political and business hierarchies. And, while legal consequences have rarely occurred, or are still awaited because it usually takes years for the Office of the Attorney and the courts to process the cases revealed, the political parties involved have suffered a loss of popularity, that is, some political consequences have been clearly manifest. In particular, the case of the Budapest Public Transportation

20 A major exception to this rule was the resignation of Pál Schmitt, President of Republic, in 2012, after the news site hvg.hu exposed that he had committed plagia-rism when writing his Ph.D. thesis in 1992, but this case occurred after the interviews had been conducted.



Company (a state-owned company on the verge of bank-ruptcy but distributing major primes to its senior managers) was a major issue during the 2010 election campaign and likely contributed to the massive fall of the Hungarian So-cialist Party in the 2010 elections.

The interviewees have confirmed that most outlets fail to keep the corruption cases revealed earlier on the agenda. New issues and events, many of which are produced by busy spin-doctors on the payroll of political parties, remove abuses exposed by investigative reporters from the agenda virtually overnight.

Perhaps even more importantly – but this is added by the authors of this paper, not the interviewees – political elites also fail to keep sto-ries of their rivals’ misdeeds, revealed by the media, on the agenda. Typically, they do not even urge the Office of the Attorney and the police to investigate these, even though anti-corruption slogans are a key element of their rhetoric, on all sides of the political spectrum. Their reluctance to do so may be explained by behind-the-scenes agreements and mutually beneficial arrangements among parties. Should they break the law of silence and urge the proper investiga-tion of corrupt practices, they would launch a chain reaction of scan-dals that would undermine their own reputation, too – as the case of the Centrum Parking company, in which both of the leading parties were involved, demonstrates.

The interviews also suggest that the existing but limited political and legal impact of investigative journalism may also be attributed to the fact that national commercial television channels, which reach many more people than daily and weekly papers do, hardly ever engage in investigative reporting or cover investigative reports publicised in other outlets. More specifically, mainstream commercial channels only report on simple cases whose narratives may be captured by their audiences without particular effort, including cases such as that of the Budapest Public Transportation company, a state-owned ven-ture on the verge of bankruptcy, whose top managers were granted high primes that may be difficult to justify.

In sum, the relative inefficiency of investigative journalism should likely not be attributed to the lack of devoted journalists and outlets or to the lack of the financial resources needed for investigation but


to the fact that investigative reporting is typically practiced by low-budget outlets – such as the weeklies Magyar Narancs and Élet és Irodalom – that reach few people, while radio stations and television channels attracting massive audiences largely ignore it. At the same time, political elites do not feel urged to react to allegations that most voters have never heard of.

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AKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Earlier version of this article waw first published in Péter Ba-jomi-Lázár: Média és politika [Media and Politics] (Budapest: PrintX-Budavár Zrt, 2010, pp. 108–130). This version has been updated and annotated in December 2013.

52

Journalists’ roles and ethics in turbulent times: Contemporary controversies in Ukraine

JOURNALISTS’ ROLES AND ETHICS IN TURBULENT TIMES: CONTEMPORARY CONTROVERSIES IN UKRAINE

Anastasiia [email protected] PhD, Lecturer, Post-Doctoral Fellow, 2013Harriman Institute, Columbia University New York, USAAssistant Director for ResearchMohyla School of JournalismNational University of Kyiv-Mohyla AcademyKiev, Ukraine

ISSN 2029-865Xdoi://10.7220/2029-865X.09.04


ABSTRACT: The collapse of the Soviet Union started a new era of media transforma-tions in Ukraine. The end of state-controlled media associated with censorship and informational isolation, first lessons of transition to market-driven media system, political turbulences and pressures, and the emergence of journalism professional values, new rhythms dictated by technologies – they all caused significant and rapid changes to journalism culture and media practice. This article is devoted to the issues of media freedom in contemporary post-Soviet Ukraine. Based on the interpretive and visual (collage elicitation) research, it suggests looking at the phenomenon of journalists’ freedom through the journalists’ considerations and as a part of indivi-dual ethics, and explores how journalists see their role within the media practices they experience. Ukrainian journalists cannot play the role of agents in democratic change. Justifying the experienced pressures by different, usually external, reasons, Ukrainian journalists tend to adjust ethical norms to existing practices. It causes fur-ther conflict between normative standards and their interpretation and implemen-tation in practice that is, according to Voltmer and Dobreva (2009), typical for new democracies in which old structures and values coexist with new democratic norms. In this paper, first, a review of the path of journalism evolution in post-Soviet and contemporary Ukraine and the forces behind the pressures journalists experience. Further, I will refer to the particularities of normative and individual journalism ethics as they are discussed in theoretical works and, finally, present the results of qualitative study showing how journalists interpret their ethical choices and decisi-ons, and, more importantly, perceive their professional roles when they discuss their experienced practices.

KEYWORDS: journalism ethics, individual ethics, journalism professional roles, post-Soviet media, media freedom, Ukrainian media, visual research

INTRODUCTION

One of the main challenges of transforming communication after the breakdown of authoritarian rule is to secure the independence and quality of journalism (Voltmer and Dobreva, 2009). Since Ukraine became an independent state in 1991, Ukrainian media entered a new era of transforming from an ideology-governed system develop-ment, and survival under new market conditions. These transforma-tions, or “recovery” (Ivshina, 2008), are still going on, and Ukrainian media practitioners experience challenges similar to those their col-leagues have in other countries of the Eastern Europe: limited free-dom of speech, little room for advancement, heavy workloads, and inequality at work (Baysha and Hallahan, 2004; Dyczok, 2009, Tset-sura and Grynko, 2009; Grynko, 2010; Grynko, 2012; Willard, 2003).

54 Anastasiia GRYNKO


This article is devoted to the issues of media freedom in contempo-rary post-Soviet Ukraine. Specifically, it explores the way Ukrainian journalists’ view and interpret existing pressures that are referred to ethical violations according to a normative perspective (1) and how they view their professional roles when they discuss those practices (2).

In this paper, first, a review of the path of journalism evolution in post-Soviet and contemporary Ukraine and the forces behind the pressures journalists experience. Further, I will refer to the particu-larities of normative and individual journalism ethics as they are dis-cussed in theoretical works and, finally, present the results of qualita-tive study showing how journalists interpret their ethical choices and decisions, and, more importantly, perceive their professional roles when they discuss their experienced practices.

POST-SOVIET UKRAINIAN MEDIA: “OLIGARKHIZATION” AND INSTRUMENTAL ROLE

The function of the media in the Soviet Union was largely as a chan-nel for communicating decisions of the regional and local govern-ment, and, like all Soviet media, Ukrainian media was controlled from the top down. Therefore, once Ukraine gained independence, the media needed to create its own national press on short notice (Baysha and Hallahan, 2004). At the beginning of the 1990s, many newspapers and magazines were closed as they struggled to become economically and politically independent in the turbulent political and economic times. When the transition from state-owned to pri-vate hands was over, it became evident it did not bring media the ex-pected liberty. “Many new media outlets were created for purpose of influence rather than to provide the public with information or gen-erate profits” (Dyczok, 2009: 21). Importantly, during the mid-1990s, the formation of large financial industrial groups that concentrated substantial media assets under their ownership started. This was the beginning of a media resources concentration that continues today. It was also the time of the “oligarkhization” process. Media started to play the role of instruments to influence public opinion. Because of the close relation between media and political elites, the state author-ities could easily press on media outlets (ibid.).


The beginning of the 2000s was the time when Russian capital en-tered the Ukrainian media market; “Kommersant Ukraine”, and “Komsomolskaya Pravda in Ukraine” were founded. New forms of media funding appeared. Grants of foreign donors supported such media projects as “Ukrainska Pravda” (online media that is still influ-ential and popular for its objectivity and journalists` investigations) and “Telekrytyka” (media specialized in journalism issues).

In 2005-2010 (under the Victor Yushchenko presidency) western investors demonstrated a growing interest in the Ukrainian media market. However, non-transparent business practices, difficulties in distribution and political instability made it impossible for foreign investors to develop profitable media projects within the country. The situation became even worse as a result of economic crisis. Thus, the majority of foreign owners had to leave the market. Later, un-der the presidency of Yanukovych, the media ownership was redis-tributed among the main business groups in the country that own enterprises in different industrial sectors (refining, chemical, heavy machinery construction etc.) and, therefore, those businessmen are often loyal to the authorities in order to save their own businesses (Dutsyk, 2009).

Today, media business seems to exist in few “parallel realities”. There are big media owners who control the major media corporations in the country. Additionally, there are state and communal media that cover regions. There are also separate media projects in regions, founded by small, local businessmen (Ivanov et al., 2011). Media ownership continues to remain non-transparent in Ukraine. Al-though the law “on television and radio broadcasting” requires the National Television and Radio Broadcasting Council of Ukraine to provide information about the media owners, this information is not enough to give a complete picture of the real owners hidden in off-shore zones.

PRESSURES ON MEDIA BEFORE 2004

The pressures, influences and lack of freedom in media is an im-portant characteristic that is usually attached to media situation in Ukraine. Together with other Soviet Social¬ist Republics such as Moldova, Belarus, and Russia, Ukraine has been mentioned as



the country where media are still politi¬cally controlled and press freedom is lim¬ited or non-existent (Mickiewicz, 1998). Ukrainian journalists continued to experience various pressures that were es-pecially visible in coverage of political issues and elections (Grynko, 2012). Later, at the end of 2001, the sources of influences were main-ly concentrated in the hands of state authorities who started to use administrative power to influence media.

Then, during the presidential campaign in 2004, the ruling elite strengthened their efforts to use media to win the presidency. Spe-cifically, they expanded news censorship to deny candidate Yush-chenko access to media as well as discrediting him in analytical and current affairs shows (Dyczok, 2009). The journalists’ revolution, started in October 2004, was directly connected with the political events in the country. That October, Ukrainian media communities initiated the action supporting the journalists of the 5th Channel, which was under strong political pressure at that time. As a result, on November 21, the 5th Channel began broadcasting the events on Maidan [the central square in Kyiv] where more than 20 thousand Ukrainians came to support Yushchenko, a presidential candidate from the opposition. The protests were supported by international journalists’ organizations (Ligachova and Ganza, 2005).

“CENSORSHIP OF MONEY” AND WHOLESALE JOURNALISM AFTER 2004

After the Orange Revolution in 2004, Ukrainian journalism expe-rienced positive changes, and journalists started to enjoy a relative freedom from centralized government censorship. Freedom House’s report that the Ukrainian media transition from “Not Free” to “Part-ly Free” happened from 2004 to 2005, matches the Orange Revolu-tion time line (Freedom House, 2005). However, after 2004 the prob-lem of influences was shifted from direct government intervention to indirect influences through intra-organizational – level relations between the media owners and journalists. Belyakov (2009) states that “censorship of money” had started from the 2000s when oli-garchs or simple advertisers manipulated media following the goal of profit. Victoria Syumar (2008) also writes about the “censorship of money” that changed government pressure in Ukraine and notes the “election campaign in 2007 was followed by the significant growth of paid-for media coverage”.


Ukrainian oligarchs who own media, manipulate editorial policy according to their private interests and also allow manipulation by third parties if paid (Belyakov, 2009). Syumar (IREX, 2008) claims:

there used to be censorship by government; now it is cen-sorship by money… Before, the censorship of the powerful was performed by the stick. Then those in power came to realize that the stick is too crude, and the journalists were starting to resist. So they started to exercise it with the car-rot, as money is much more pleasant, and it is hard to refuse.

Thus, media owners came to understanding that elections campaign may bring good profits and start selling pages in press and time in TV programs to different political parties. The 2007 parliamentary election campaign reinforced such practices. So, the publishers be-came major actors who negotiated “media plans” of coverage with major political forces and their headquarters (Dovzhenko, 2009), ac-cording to Syumar (as cited in Orlova, 2007), as a result of conscious policy of media management.

During the Kyiv mayoral elections of 2008, media started to provide “preelection services” that combined consistent loyalty towards one candidate and serving others when paid (ibid.). As a result, journal-ists demonstrated more and more loyalty towards paid-for materials, thinking this is the only way to get profit for media. Accordingly, they were losing motivation for professional work and this negatively impacted the overall quality of media products. Therefore, the influ-ences on media have been transformed from a “retail” into a “whole-sale system” (IREX, 2008).

After the pro-Russian opposition leader Viktor Yanukovych took office as the president, broadcast frequencies were withdrawn from critical outlets and extra-legal harassment of journalists increased, leading to greater self-censorship. Ukraine, which has consistently been one of the best performers in its sub-region in recent years, saw an erosion of media freedom, falling from 53 to 56 points (Freedom House, 2010).

According to the Democratic Initiative Foundation’s report (2010), although there is no formal censorship in the media, it does exist “informally”. Media experts and activists state that governmental



control is one of the main challenges of media transparency in the country today. Based on the monitoring of daily TV news, Ukrainian NGOs (Internews Network, Telekrytyka and the Mass Information Institute) find the signs of biases in TV news and state that censor-ship policy is mostly aimed at forming the positive image of the gov-ernment.

A sociological poll conducted in September 2010 shows that 41% of Ukrainians recognize the decrease of freedom of speech after the presidential elections compared to results in April 2010 when just 18% of citizens believed there was a problem. According to another survey conducted by Razumkov Center, more than 55% of Ukraini-ans agree that political censorship exists in the country (Sociological Group “Rating”, 2010).

NORMATIVE AND INDIVIDUAL ETHICS

Truthfulness and transparency in gathering and reporting informa-tion and independence/integrity by refusing bribes or any other out-side influences on the work are normative principles, which are usu-ally declared in codes of ethics for journalists (Laitila, 1995). There are two national codes of ethics for journalists in Ukraine and both formalize the rules that stay in line with international professional regulations. Importantly, the majority of media practitioners report they are familiar with the code of ethics (Umedia, 2012) which man-ifests that journalists should be able to make their decisions inde-pendently (CJE, 2002). Article eight of the code of ethics, adopted by the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine, specifically states that journalists should be objective and should not accept any rewards that may influence their judgment or prepare any materials in order to self-promote or to materially benefit from publications (NUJU, 2005).

Ethical decisions are always about choices and the main force in this choice is composed by ethical concern: when a media person realizes commitments and thoughtful decisions among alternatives (Gordon et al., 1996). There are two main schools of ethics explaining the di-rection of journalists` ethical concerns; The first one says journalist may be guided primarily by the external societal rules or community customs (normative or communitarian ethics). Meanwhile the sec-ond one argues that journalists first and foremost ground their de-


cisions on internal, personal perspectives (individual or libertarian ethics).

Although ethics are commonly associated with the normative area, in real-life professional practice, ethics could be hardly limited to normative concepts and imperatives. It is also an internal process of making individual choices that may or may not correspond with established rules. There is a human element in media practice that highlights the ethics of every person within the mass media organi-zation and how they approach their freedom and their responsibility doing the job (Forunato, 2005). Ethics is always a process (or action) of moral reasoning through which people express themselves, artic-ulate their visions, make moral agreements and establish principles: “ethics is not a passive act of obeying a set of rules handed down to us. It is the dynamic activity of imagining new norms and adapting old principles to changing social conditions and human purposes” writes Ward (2004: 27). Looking at ethics as a process of invention, Ward (2004) insists on the practitioners’ ability to construct concep-tual schemes, norms, and test their interpretations in various con-texts.

Therefore, individual factors (values, beliefs, knowledge, attitudes, and intentions) are crucial component for moral reasoning and ethi-cal decision-making, according to Ferrell and Gresham (1985). Oth-er factors which influence ethical actions are “significant others in the organizational setting” and “opportunities for ethical/unethical action” (i.e., establishment of professional codes and corporate poli-cies, reward/penalty systems) (ibid.: 90).

INTERPRETATIVE RESEARCH METHODOLOGY

As a way to understand media practices, this study approaches jour-nalism practice within the social constructionist paradigm Assum-ing that social life is processual, there are emergent, multiple realities, with facts and values linked (Charmaz, 2006:126). My investigation is built on the methodology of grounded theory (Glaser and Strauss, 1967; Corbin and Strauss, 2008; Charmaz, 2000; Charmaz, 2006) and applies methods of individual interviews and focus-group dis-cussions with media practitioners in Ukraine as well as the creative art-based method.



Interpretative science believes that social reality is socially construct-ed and the goal of the scientist is to understand what meaning peo-ple give to reality, not to determine how reality works apart from these interpretations (Schutt, 2006). Working under the mentioned assumptions, interpretative researchers rarely ask objective survey questions, aggregate the answers of many people, and claim to have something meaningful. Instead, each person’s interpretation must be placed in a more personal, idiosyncratic context, and the true meaning of a person’s answer will vary according to the interview or questioning context and how the situation is perceived by individual respondents (Gunter, 2000).

Applying qualitative methodological approach, this study is based on the assumption that journalists possess an internal sense of me-dia practices in which they are involved, by sharing the meanings of their professional actions and interactions they understand and construct their professional roles and identities.

RESEARCH PROCEDURES

A total of 100 media practitioners participated in the study. 49 per-sons (34 journalists and 15 editors) were interviewed and 51 (23 ed-itors and 28 journalists) took part in the 8 focus-group discussions. The practicing media representatives, editors and leading journal-ists of national and regional media were invited to participate in the study. The selection of study participants was based on their current active leadership position (top or middle-level management/editor/leading reporter) and participation in making decisions about topics and angles of media coverage, extensive work experience in the field of at least two years, specifically, and, finally, a volunteer agreement to participate in the study.

Each focus group discussion lasted between 90-120 minutes and included between 5 and 10 participants. “The group must be small enough for everyone to have the opportunity to share insights and yet large enough to provide diversity in perceptions” (Krueger and Casey, 2009: 6). According to Onwuegbuzie et al. (2009), the ration-ale for the range of focus group size should stem from the goal that within focus groups there should be enough participants to yield di-versity in the information provided; yet they should not include too


many participants because large groups can create an environment where participants do not feel comfortable sharing their thoughts, opinions, beliefs, and experiences.

Group members varied by gender, age and types of media, but had the commonality of being leading media practitioners who have been working in media for at least 2 years and who are responsible for or can influence the selection of topics and angles of coverage. Stewart and Shamdasani explain that interaction is easier when individuals with similar socioeconomic backgrounds comprise the group (1990: 38). A lively, interesting discussion tends to build a sense of cohe-siveness. Equally important, the sharing of experiences and recogni-tion that other participants have had similar experiences add to the cohesiveness of the group (ibid.). Interviews were tape-recorded in Ukrainian or Russian (depending on language which was convenient for the participant), completely transcribed, and then analysed to identify all relevant statements for inductive analysis of identifying emerging themes through multiple readings.

The unstructured (specifically, on the very first stages of data col-lection, pilot interviews and group discussions) and semi-structured (mainly on the final stages of data collection and verification) types of interviewing were applied for data collection. Berger explains that in unstructured interviews the researcher is focused on specific topics of study but exercises relatively little control over the responses of the informant, and in semi-structured interviews, the interviewer has a written list of questions to ask but at the same time tries to maintain the casual quality found in unstructured interviewing (2000: 112). This methodological approach provided a free flow conversation and allowed insights based on the respondents’ professional experienc-es. Imposing too much structure on the interview inhibits the inter-viewee’s responses and may cause an incomplete understanding of the phenomenon under investigation (Zhang and Wildemuth, 2009).

PROBLEMS LINKED TO THE ETHICAL CHALLENGES AS JOURNALISTS ARTICULATE THEM

Discussing the function of media in Ukraine, journalists argued that they still have not gained the role of the “fourth power” in Ukraine; the figure of journalist was often depicted as powerless, manipulated, and speechless; some participants also noted that journalists need to



survive and adopt to the existing system, and this adaptation often costs them diminished ethical values:

Journalism is corrupted and compromised…so journalists have to operate in a “muddy water” and some of them try to “catch fish” in it and gain profit.

Talking about the main causes of pressure and ethical violations, journalists named the undeveloped media market in Ukraine as a primary problem and obstacle for development of journalist profes-sion and media freedom. Specifically, journalists agreed that media usually “do not follow strategic business plans” and, thus, “are not managed to be a long-term effective business” that intends to build to be profitable and respond to the audience demand. One media practitioner commented:

“...first and foremost it depends on how long you plan the business. If it is planned for 15 years, it must be profession-al and transparent. Meanwhile, our media businesses are usually planned as a short-term business aimed at getting quick profit or publicity, and follow so-called “now-and-here strategies”.

Besides, journalists agreed the dependence on owners and sponsors is one of the most significant factors of influence, which complicates media development and causes the violations of journalism prin-ciples. Moreover, some participants said there are many media in Ukraine that were created as a “platform for the owner’s communica-tion” and are aimed at promotion of the owner’s messages rather than being a competitive business project. In fact, almost all participants shared their experience about the owner’s pressure and two groups of reasons behind those pressures, as they feel them:

Controlling the coverage content (1), coverage of preferable topics and avoiding unfavorable ones. As journalists explained:

“the owner has his interests or his friends’ interests, so we [reporters] have to cover concrete topics”; “…we are spon-sored by “Privat Group”, and that is why we never place any negative information about their business even if it is news-worthy.”


One regional journalist shared her example:

…two TV channels in our region belong to two different businesses: “Zaporizhstal” [ the name of the plant] and “Motor Sich” [the name of the plant]. So, these channels “are specialized” in different sectors and never mention news of competitors even if something important and newsworthy happens.

Maximizing the profit (2) is another reason behind the owners’ pres-sure on media. As the research participants explained – intending to get profit, owners tend to keep friendly relations with advertisers and may establish internal policy that violates ethical principles of media, for instance, by asking journalists to cover topics that are prefera-ble for advertiser. Specifically, journalists recollected examples when owner, being manipulated by the advertiser, manipulated the work of the editorial department: “the founder manipulates editorial staff ‘to satisfy’ the advertiser and get more money”. Consequently, jour-nalists mentioned advertisers as a factor of influence on Ukrainian media but also noted that this is an “indirect influence”, which is usu-ally realized through the owner or media marketing department for profit maximization.

A CONSTITUTED ROLE OF THE JOURNALIST WITHIN EXPERIENCED PRACTICES

Describing the ethical dilemmas they face and solve in their every-day work in media, they provided an interesting shared pattern of ex-planations; “why” and “how” they think it works and how they view individual journalist (or themselves) in the mentioned practices.

“I DO NOT DO IT WHILE THEY DO”: REFERENCES TO THE EXPERIENCES OF “OTHERS”

Journalists were generally negative about any kind of influence pres-sures and told that the pressures that challenge the quality of jour-nalism in the country are faced by the majority of the media outlets and people working in media. Respondents rarely connected the pressures to a wider problem of pressure within “personal” profes-sional experience, choice and responsibility. Whilst there were nu-merous instances when research participants defined the pressures



existing and widespread in Ukraine, they also frequently articulated the problem as one of “my personal” experience:

“I have never experienced it personally but have heard much from my friends, they told as they were offered money and placed materials for that. As for me, I am not a person of this kind, may be I am not a right person” (journalist).

“It is strongly controlled in our newspaper; journalist will be fired for accepting bribes. But not all media organizations have such a strict policy” (editor).

“I have only heard from my friend that they are rewriting materials five times depending on which side gives more money to editor. They have hard time at their work…” (jour-nalist). .

Such statements might be interpreted as the perception of influences as ones happening “somewhere there” and do not really refer to in-dividual respondents’ experience. Equally important, they also func-tion rhetorically to conceptualize the problem which is “not mine” or “my media” but “theirs”, for example, “other journalists”, “friends”, “colleagues”, “other newspapers”, “magazines”, “TV-channels”, “com-petitors”.

Although the lack of freedom was problematized and labeled as top-ical for the Ukrainian media field, the participants’ description of the problem as not “mine” but “their” might then be interpreted as the intention to present themselves as not involved into the practices that are considered to be ethical by their nature. This can be connected with a sensitivity of the issues discussed. Possibly, the participants in-tentionally avoided speaking about the practices of pressures as “their own” experiences because those practices are assumed to be unethi-cal. This may also mean the journalists have personally experienced pressures and they did not want to reveal them under the in-group settings or during individual interviews; consequently, I would con-clude they find this experience “uncomfortable” or “immoral” and prefer not to be associated with the mentioned professional cases.

“IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF ME, IT IS BECAUSE OF THEM” AND “OUR HARD LIFE”: SHIFTING RESPONSIBILITY AND PROBLEM LEGITIMIZATION


While sharing the experiences, study participants were mainly fo-cused on the explanations of “why pressures happens” and “who is responsible for them”. As it was noted from the transcriptions, the reasons of non-transparent practices were often refereed to “they” or “other” markers and were connected with other people’ decisions or external factors rather than personal decisions and responsibili-ties. Specifically, the patterns of shifting responsibility and problem legitimization were constructed by the expanded explanations of the reasons and responsibilities for non-transparent practices. Hence, responsibility for the problem was often shifted to the third person “them” (someone or generalized others) while the reasons were re-ferred to broader conditions (social, economic, professional contexts) which, according to respondents, force them to behave unethically.

The marker “they” referred to different actors who were blamed for media bribery existence and called responsible for the pressures. Spe-cifically, “they” journalists usually meant editors, who were blamed for causing the pressure on journalists as a result of acceptation of cash or other benefits. Meanwhile, the interviewed editors called journalists responsible for paid-for materials as “lazy, non-profes-sional” and that is why accept cash from the news sources. Both journalists and editors expressed the shifting of the responsibility on advertising departments or media owners that “influence editorial policy to maximize profits from advertisers”.

This pattern of blaming the other stakeholders for the existence of media bribery practice also concerned Public Relations specialists who are “too aggressive”, “not professional”, “unethical” and “lazy”, and prefer to pay for publicity rather than work professionally. An-other variation of the “blaming others” or “shifting responsibility” pattern concerned readers and the media, blaming consumers who are not very fastidious, “do not demand high quality product” and usually “can not even recognize paid-for materials”.

The problem of legitimization was another pattern that, in partici-pants’ accounts, functions like a “good” reason for accepting bribes and pressure from news sources. It was articulated in a broader con-text of social, economic and political conditions:



“…Journalists get not much money nowadays, but they have to feed their families. Their life is hard, believe me”.

“It is hard to survive without taking bribes now, everyone takes them, and our life is corrupted starting from politics”.

“This practice is not regulated here, so there are no sanc-tions and almost every media takes bribes. Why and how should we be transparent?”.

By these phrases respondents made attempts to prove the necessity of accepting bribes and tried to legitimize this practice by extremely hard social, economic conditions or commonness of corruption in different spheres. The legitimation is realized through the construct of “hard reality” which is usually comes with such concrete attributes as “low salaries” and “financial struggles”, “undeveloped system of law and ethical regulations”, “absence of competition in media field”, “lack of good example” “corruption in social and political fields which is common”.

Meanwhile, research participants almost never mentioned the effects and outcomes of the practice (why this happens). Specifically, the research indicated the lack of attention to the consequences of the individual responses to the pressures and too much attention to the reasons (especially, their justification) and responsibility (who is re-sponsible or should be blamed) for unprofessional actions.

VISUALIZATION OF MEDIA PRACTICE AND JOURNALIST ROLES: ANALYSIS OF COLLAGES

Focus group participants were asked to create collages reflecting how they see (and experience) journalists’ work in Ukraine. Collage is constructing a picture by sticking images or other materials to a sur-face. To make the collages, journalists received colourful magazines, booklets and newspapers, so they had plenty of choices and could cut and stick any pictures, photos, headline and pieces of texts from there; they were also given markers and pencils to write and draw anything they wanted to express their view in a graphic way. Journal-ists were asked to create collages in small groups of two-three people, and then to give commentaries on what they had depicted.


Since knowledge can not be reduced to language (Eisner, 2008) and verbalized notions, I have combined traditional qualitative inter-viewing with elements of visual method (creation of collages), allow-ing people to reflect creatively on the topics of the research interest and show the world beyond the text, words and verbal descriptions. Creatively mixing methods encourage thinking “outside the box” and generating new ways of interrogating and understanding the so-cial realities (Mason, 2002).

Methodologists refer to collage as a creative art-based visual method that helps to enhance participants’ reflexivity and to take into account also their different needs and expressive styles. Applying drawing methods in the context of an interview opens up participants’ in-terpretations of questions, and allows a creative way of interviewing that is responsive to the participants’ own meanings and associations (Bagnoli, 2009). Collage seems to work best when we move from the intuitive to the conceptual so it is an appropriate medium for explor-ing identity, ethics and professional dilemmas (Ridley and Rogers, 2010). The work with images helps to communicate more holistically and through metaphors (Prosser and Loxley, 2008). Besides, collab-orative work helped to get more insights as participants were sharing ideas and discussed images they chose for their collages. Collabora-tive drawings produced in larger groups can extend the insights to more complex forms of communication and meaning-making (Rid-ley and Rogers, 2010).

The analysis includes review of the main components (both people and objects) that appeared on the collages and that, according to re-search participants, influence professional lives of Ukrainian jour-nalists (1). Here I was looking at what (objects) and who (actors) were present on the collages. Second, I analyse the representation of “the journalist”; specifically, how the journalist role and professional functions are visualized (2). The third category is the review of gen-eral composition of the collages (how elements are located, what are their sizes and proportions) (3). It is also important to note that every single collage made by journalist was original and contained unique details I will also mention as meaningful features and descriptions.

The figure of journalist was present on every collage. Pictures of in-fluential political and business figures also appeared on the collages.



Mainly they were shown as important and powerful stakeholders in journalism practice and ones who influence journalist’s work. The influence was mainly related to financial pressures or financial de-pendence, and it was mainly reflected by the issues of ownership or financial manipulations (which may be associated with corrupted practices). More rarely, journalists drew political and business actors as ones who influence journalists only as news makers.

The concept of money was somehow marked at almost every collage. Specifically, the sign of “money” was presented as a tool of manip-ulation and influence on media practice (see Collage 1) and as the purpose why media owners open media outlets. This may indicate that journalists are especially concerned with the financial side of their work and, especially, their financial dependence. The concept of money also appeared in Collage 1 at the part titled “How journal-ism should work”; here the creators put their expectation about the “high salaries” journalists should get for keeping their professional autonomy.

Mainly, research participants who created collages described money as a tool of pressure, which politicians and business owners apply to manipulate media. The makers of Collage 1 placed the numbers meaning certain (big) amounts of money under the pictures of two business figures illustrating oligarchs who are competing and fight-ing to make more money; in their fights they use media as an instru-ment for their business goals.

Collage 3 also contains fragments illustrating money issues. As jour-nalists depicted it, the thoughts about money (profits) determines the decisions of the media owners and frame editorial policy. Final-ly, at Collage 4, the Presidential Advisor Anna Herman is depicted portrayed as the one asking journalists “How much do you cost?”. This image illustrates a cynical attitude of state authorities towards journalists.

Generally, the images of politicians and businessmen were often se-lected as the main stakeholders of media practices and the ones who greatly influence the work of journalists. These figures, presenting ones who have greater power and influence, were often bigger sized, with brighter colours and located at the centre or on the top of the whole picture.


Interestingly, the figure of the journalist was placed under the photos of oligarchs and under the “money”. The question “Who pays more?” is written near his head, indicating the real thoughts and intentions of the media professional. It may illustrate that journalists are serving the interests of ones who have financial resources and power in the country.

This situation, as research participants believe, diminishes the pro-fessional ethics of journalism. They have illustrated it in a met-aphoric way, selecting the picture of a journalist’s ID/certificate (“посвідчення журналіста”) in a dirty, oily, trash-like pan (see Col-lage 1). This picture, according to the practitioners who were work-ing on the collage, illustrates a real state and nature of journalism in

Collage 1.

Translation of the phrases, from left to right: “23 mln, hryvnas”, “Who pays more?”, “2 billion hryvnas”.



Ukraine. This was an ironic way to show that values of profession are cynically neglected and “burnt to ashes”. It is significantly to note, that the same photo of journalist ID, fried in a dirty pan with the pieces of stale food, was used by the creators of another collage. Therefore, this picture seemed to be meaningful for participants and worked best to present how they characterize their professional work.

The composition of the collages also says a lot about how research participants present the way the power is distributed in media prac-tice. Specifically, the figure of journalist is located on the bottom; meanwhile the faces of ones who represent political and business elites are in the middle of the picture (see Collage 1). On the top of the picture journalists put the sign of ”struggles between, those two influential figures”.

It may say that business (and political) interests and struggles are interpreted as the main issue that guides and shapes the work of jour-nalist. Collage 3 also presents the figures of journalists working in an editorial department on the bottom. Central and top parts of the picture are occupied by a big image of the media owner (particularly, his head) and the image of “the President Administration”; this find-ing may convey the meaning that the owner and government play a crucial role in the work of media.

Collage 2.

Translation of the phrases,

the first part: a journalist –

smaller figure, “Investor”

- a bigger one; the second part: “ideal

journalism”, “big salaries”, “airy

goals”, “true values”.


The minor and instrumental role of the journalist was clearly illus-trated by Collage 2, where focus group participants showed the fig-ures of journalist and investor in a metaphoric way. The media owner is given as a huge faceless and grey monument, meanwhile a small cartoon-like (childish looking) character following the monument and looking at his back, represents the journalist. The figure of the journalist creates the impression of a small, powerless and manipu-lated man who has nothing to do but hide behind the big figure of the owner.

The powerless and instrumental role of media is clearly reflected in Collage 3. The editorial department is drawn as a group of small, grey and similar looking people (journalists) and is titled as a news selling (instead of news production) division. Focus group participants also drew journalists as “speechless and silent” who cannot (or do not want) to express their opinion; the pictures of “people with closed (plastered) mouths” represent media workers on Collage 4.

Therefore, the visualization of the journalist role and function stays in line and adds new metaphoric features to the image of journalist constructed by the research participants’ narrative stories and inter-pretations.

Collage 3.

Translation of the phrases from right tot left: “President Administration”, “What offers does the President of Russia have?” “News-selling division”.



Therefore, media owner, influential politicians, state authorities and businessmen are drawn as the main actors in media practice togeth-er with journalist. The latter often shown as small, powerless figures mainly doing the technical work of producing “news for sale” or news for serving owners’ interests.

However, no one collage contained any piece representing either the audience nor any interests of public consuming media products. The concept of audience and public interest was not portrayed in any of the collages. Having analysed the visual data, I have noted that imag-es of people reading newspapers or watching TV or any visual signs that could be interpreted as their needs, interests, expectations were not included in the pictures of journalist work.

The absence of audience among the actors in the picture of Ukrainian journalism and in the focus group transcriptions may be interpreted by the fact that research participants may experience very small (or extremely small) influence of news consumers on their work. The issues of money and purposes of serving the interests of influential people (political and business elites) seem to replace audience needs and expatiations. This finding corresponds with the ideas sounded during the interviews, when practitioners mentioned that many me-dia organization play instrumental roles rather than intend to meet audience needs and serve public interests.

Collage 4.

Translation of the phrases:

“How it happens now” (meaning

current situation) –

from the top to the bottom:

“Terrible love and beautiful

betrayal”, “keeping

silence in all the languages”,

“Beauty does not rescue so

far”; How it should work:

“Expert”.


CONCLUSIONS AND DISCUSSION

Aimed at the exploration of journalists’ ethical interpretations that guide them in their professional work, this research suggests to look at the phenomenon of journalists’ freedom through journalists’ con-siderations and as a part of individual ethics, and explore how jour-nalists see their role within the media practices they experience. Ac-cording to Koltsova (2006), the study of media practice is especially helpful for finding observable units of social reality and struggling with “normativism” as it describes how people act, and not how it is required by perspective rules. This notion is especially true about Ukraine, where both media market and journalism professional cul-ture are still developing, journalism value system is being established and journalists continue to question their professional roles and ob-ligations within existing political, economical and cultural environ-ments.

Lauk notes (2008) that after the fall of the communist regimes in the Central and Eastern European countries, media and journalists found themselves in a certain “normative vacuum” and there was confusion as to how to behave in the changing public sphere where the old patterns did not work and new ones were yet to be introduced or adapted. According to the study, although Ukrainian journalists are aware of the normative rules and ethically responsible practices, they demonstrate relative and blurry ethical considerations when it comes to the discussion of every-day professional choices. This can be widely found in other post-communist countries where “legal and/or conventional framework that would motivate journalists to follow the principles is still missing” (ibid.: 194). This finding corre-sponds with what Zielonka and Mancini identify as a blurred jour-nalists’ professional identity, putting it as a common feature across Central and Eastern Europe: “it has proved difficult for journalists to develop a strong and clear professional identity in the constantly changing political, economic and social environment… Journalists diffuse and frequently overlapping social roles have generated confu-sion and lack of coherence” (2011: 7).

The interviewed journalists tended to realize the threats coming from the side of media owners, put the concept of “money” and fig-ures of political and business elites in the centre of both visualized



and verbalized images of contemporary media practice, and men-tion “self-censorship” as the main challenge for journalistic work. At the same time, discussing their own experiences, journalists tend-ed to position themselves as victims of the existing practices (and manipulations in media). Respondents often explained the pressures as mainly “external factors” (in particular, “unethical” journalists or representatives of other professional groups as well as political and economic hardships or general “culture of corruption” in the society) and rarely referred to the importance of personal choice and respon-sibility for involvement into unethical practices.

Discussing the function of media in Ukraine, respondents argued that journalists still have not gained the role of the “fourth power”; the figure of the journalist was often visualized as powerless, manip-ulated, and speechless; some participants also noted that journalists needed to survive and adapt to the existing system (“…to operate in a “muddy water” and “catch the fish”), and this “adaptation” often costs them diminishing ethical rules.

Generally, the discussions often focused on justification of the prac-tices that are not normally justified by ethical rules and blaming ”others”. Speaking about the issue of pressures, journalists tended to pay attention to the reasons (why this happens?) and actors (who are involved and guilty?) of experienced media practices rather than outcomes of the journalism that lacks freedom, specifically, public interests or reputation of media organization, its credibility and pro-fessional and business success, etc. The notions of audience and pub-lic interest were usually excluded from the journalists’ discussions about media experienced practices. Both textual and visual data demonstrates that journalists do not perceive readers and viewers as ones who influence or are somehow present in the overall picture of media practice. Media owners, political figures, businessmen, adver-tisers, editors and reporters are mentioned among the main actors who compose and influence media practice and set the rules of me-dia practice.

Therefore, the reformation of a media system that, according to the normative view, was expected to ensure media independency has not fully worked in a Ukrainian context. Having experienced the years of state control under the communist regime, Ukrainian journalists did


not manage to gain expected independence after the Soviet Union collapse. Specifically, media privatization did not ensure the free-dom as well as the attempts to adapt ethical values formalized in the codes. Owned by political and business elites (“oligarchs”) private media continue to face the pressures that, in many cases, question journalists’ independence and the transparency of media practices.

It is hardly debatable that working under such conditions Ukrainian journalists cannot play the role of agents in democratic change. Jus-tifying the experienced pressures by different, usually external, rea-sons, Ukrainian journalists tend to adjust ethical norms to existing practices. It causes further conflict between normative standards and their interpretation and implementation in practice that is, accord-ing to Voltmer and Dobreva (2009), typical for new democracies in which old structures and values coexist with new democratic norms (or what is understood to be democratic norms).

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Editorial independence in the Latvian news media: Ownership interests and journalistic compromises

EDITORIAL INDEPENDENCE IN THE LATVIAN NEWS MEDIA: OWNERSHIP INTERESTS AND JOURNALISTIC COMPROMISES

Anda ROŽ[email protected], Head of the Department of Communication StudiesFaculty of CommunicationRiga Stradiņš University Riga, Latvia

ABSTRACT: Editorial independence in the each media organization is influenced both by external factors (sources of information, business partners, advertisers) and by internal factors (business interests and the goals of the media owner and the ma-nagers of the outlet). There are at least three levels at which editorial independence can be evaluated in accordance with various players in the media environment – the level of the individual, the media organisation and the media industry. Editorial in-dependence at each of these levels, in turn, depends on self-regulation and media regulation mechanisms. In this specific research, the question about attitude to edi-torial independence has been analyzed. With the goal to determine the conditions, which affect the level of editorial independence in the media firms, the formal and informal factors in the relationship between owners and editors have been evaluated. The data of the Latvian journalist survey has been compared with data acquired du-ring semi-structured interviews with media owners and chief editors. In Latvia, the will of the owner to use media in his own interest both political and commercial is perceived as natural, as well as the belief of the owner that the opinions made by the editor must not interfere with the owner‘s business venture. However, even in edito-rial offices where strict limitations of editorial independence exist, journalists find a way to produce content independently. For journalists it doesn‘t mean the situation at the office, but their own individual work, defining the editorial independence as a chance freely produce specific content. Respondents in this survey think highly of the individual autonomy of journalists, but media workers clearly understand the limitations on editorial independence that are implemented by owners, directors or editors-in-chief.

KEYWORDS: editorial independence, self-censorship, media ownership, editors

ISSN 2029-865Xdoi://10.7220/2029-865X.09.05


INTRODUCTION

Editorial independence is a definitive prerequisite for media quality. Traditionally, editorial independence has been defined as a separa-tion between decisions that are taken by media owners and those that are taken by editors. In reality, however, the interests of the editorial board and the media outlet’s advertising, marketing and finance de-partments interweave, which means that the existing understanding of editorial independence at each media company is crucial.

This paper is part of a broader study about Latvian media owners (2010–2013), focusing on attitudes which media workers have to-ward editorial independence. The goal has been to determine the conditions which have affected the level of editorial independence during changing eras in terms of the transition of the media mar-ket and journalism, and the formal and informal factors in the re-lationship between owners and editors have been evaluated. Data from a survey of Latvian journalists has been compared with data acquired via semi-structured interviews with media owners and ed-itors-in-chief.

The level of editorial independence in Latvia represents a compro-mise between the principle of media social responsibility, as defend-ed by editorial personnel, and the business or political interests of the media owners. From the perspective of owners, media independ-ence is linked to the ability to fulfil the owner’s stated goals by setting boundaries on editorial independence. Editorial staff, in turn, per-ceives independence passively and reactively and as conceivable or inconceivable work conditions. The level of editorial independence between editors and media owners is not defined in the contracts of Latvian media organisations.

In Latvia, the desire of owners to use the media in terms of their political and commercial interests is perceived as natural, as is the belief among owners that opinions presented by editors must not interfere with the owners’ business ventures. Even in editorial offices in which there are strict limitations on editorial independence, how-ever, journalists do find ways of producing content in an independ-ent way. Therefore, this author proposes the concept of individual editorial independence to characterise the Latvian media situation. For journalists, this does not refer to the situation at the office; in-

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stead it speaks to individual work, with editorial independence being defined as a chance to freely produce specific content.

The editors and journalists of commercially focused media organi-sations are responsible for the market success of their enterprise, but the level of editorial independence is higher. Owners define market goals, but do not influence content. In this media group, the person-ality of the editor is essential to ensure editorial independence, be-cause the editor acts as a shield which protects staff from unwanted interference by owners in terms of daily content production.

Data from the study reflect several contradictory media ownership strategies in various industries, making it possible to analyse the level of editorial independence, the patterns of media content production, and the correlations of self-censorship in the Latvian media.

DISCUSSING EDITORIAL INDEPENDENCE

Editorial independence is one of the most important principles in media operations, because at the level of the practices of media or-ganisations, it reveals the way in which freedom of the press operates (Himelboim and Limor, 2008) and how pluralism is ensured. Edi-torial independence is also a part of normative views about media operations (McQuail, 2010) in that it is linked to honesty, truth, neu-trality, objectivity and a professional understanding of journalism.

Several other terms have been used to describe editorial independ-ence, including editorial freedom and editorial autonomy. Editorial independence or freedom usually means that editors-in-chief must have full authority over the editorial content of their media unit. De-scriptions of editorial independence usually emphasise the right of the editor to be independent from the owners and top managers of the media organisations, whose decisions cannot have an effect on the selection and choice of media content, the editorial process, or the form of publications. For that reason, appropriate circumstances must be created at media outlets in accordance with the aforemen-tioned principles. Editorial independence or freedom usually refers to the professional work of media professionals, while editorial au-tonomy refers to the structure of media organisations, in which the development of content at the management level is kept separate from co-operation with advertisers or other business partners, as

Anda ROŽUKALNE


well as from the company’s financial operations, marketing and oth-er functions, which are essential in medial operations. The term also covers the autonomy of journalists (Scholl and Weischenberg, 1999).

In everyday situations, however, editorial independence is not some-thing unambiguous and stable in terms of editorial operations, be-cause the process of shaping content at media organisations is in-fluenced both by external factors (sources of information, partners, advertisers) and by internal factors (business interests and the goals of the media owner and the managers of the outlet). Editorial inde-pendence depends on the business models of the media, as well as on the commercialised media environment of the present way – one in which many decisions are taken on the basis of their advantages and profit potentials. Studies related to the media in Eastern Europe regularly identify violations of editorial independence because of the ability of politicians or political parties to influence media content (Metyková, Waschková and Císarová, 2009).

Editorial independence in present-day media practices can be eval-uated on the basis of the extent to which the media outlet, its man-ager or editor and each journalist can collect, correlate and publish information, viewpoints and interpretations. There are three levels at which editorial independence can be evaluated in accordance with various players in the media environment – the level of the individ-ual, the media organisation and the media industry. Editorial inde-pendence at each of these levels, in turn, depends on self-regulation and media regulation mechanisms. Editorial independence is also influenced by the overall status of the media industry, the legal status of journalists, wage and compensation systems, and the operations of media regulators. There is always interaction among legal regu-lations, self-regulations and private regulations which apply to each specific media organisation. These and other issues are analysed in detail in the European Council’s Mediadem study (Mediadem, 2012), which finds that the greatest threats against editorial independence relate to the liberal and commercialised media system. The study was focused on an analysis of media policies and media freedoms in the European Union, and it concluded that in countries with powerful traditions related to the education of journalists and with strong la-bour unions there are fewer problems with editorial independence and the autonomy of journalists.

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Anda ROŽUKALNE

Although editorial independence is an inviolable component of me-dia policy and is of unquestionable importance (Hoey, 2008), the fact is that editorial independence is not absolute in any country or any segment of the media world. Because of this approximate situation, a critical evaluation of the real manifestations of media practices leads to a situation in which the concept of editorial independence is seen as old-fashioned (Grattan, 1998), or as one which is not realistic and is more of a myth (McLellan, 2008), because it sometimes reflects the desire of media professionals to avoid the changes which occur in the media environment.

In a commercial media system, editorial independence is understood as the obligation of the editor not only to ensure free media content and to be responsible for it, but also to satisfy the duties of media directors. This usually relates to specific ratings, the obligation of reaching a specific target audience, and the need to take responsibil-ity for the financial results of the media content as the content is put together. In her blog, Michele McLellan has called for a true eval-uation of the everyday nature of the media, writing that it is naïve to think that editors can fail to count on the business strategies of their media companies. An editor cannot act at the national level and spend money for this purpose if the relevant media outlet is fo-cused on the local audience. The editor cannot change the owner’s attempts to develop or not develop content for the Internet audience, and editorial independence does not allow the editor to influence the place on the page where a specific advertisement will be placed alongside a specific article (McLellan, 2008). In other words, edito-rial independence is not similar to the Sunday-best suit of an editor. It changes and must be defended at all phases of creating media con-tent. Editorial independence is discussed not just by the media, but also by specific publications such as scholarly journals in the field of medicine (Smith, 2006) and other niche publications which link it to intellectual liberty (Hoey, 2008).

As the media system, policies related to media regulations, and the condition of the media business change, there are also alterations in views about editorial independence, interpretations of the concept and the use of the concept in the work of every media professional. Events occurring during the first decade and the early part of the second decade of the 21st century offer good reason to analyse the


situation with editorial independence. In many countries, the media industry has experienced an economic recession, finding it necessary to adapt to operations in the Internet environment, to seek out new business models, and to experiment with media content.

Latvia’s media environment lost more than 50% of its advertising investments over the past five years, and those investments are re-turning to the environment very slowly. There have been ownership changes in all media sectors, and there has been an exacerbation during the period of economic difficulties of previously identified problems with media responsibilities (Balčytienė, 2009), their com-mercial orientation, and the use of hidden advertising in the business models of the media (Rožukalne, 2013). The Latvian media system is currently undergoing increased concentration in the media busi-ness. The nature of the work of journalists and editors is changing, and the modern communications environment means that editors have less and less of an opportunity to dictate media content. The job market for journalists is unstable and shrinking. The principle of editorial independence that was enshrined in Latvian law in 2010 is only declarative. Can we hope during this period of change that the situation with editorial independence has remained unchanged?

ABOUT THE RESEARCH

The primary goal of this research has been to investigate conditions which, during a period of change in the media market and a process of journalistic transition, affect the level of editorial independence, also evaluating the formal and informal factors which exist in the relationship between owners and editors. The study consists of two parts. First, a questionnaire for journalists and editors came from a set of semi-structured interviews with Latvia’s most influential me-dia owners (Rožukalne, 2013). Secondly, the author has interviewed editors and conducted a survey of journalists on their evaluation of editorial independence.

The survey that was related to various aspects of editorial independ-ence took place in April and May 2013. There were 22 questions about the views of respondents on various aspects of editorial independ-ence in their work and in their media outlet. The discussion focused on the personal experiences of each respondent in defending edi-torial independence, whether positive or negative, on factors which

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endanger editorial independence in Latvia’s media environment, and on the roles of editors and journalists in ensuring editorial independ-ence. The questions applied to all levels of editorial independence – the individual, media organisation and media industry level.

A net-type or serial-type selection method was used to determine the cohort for the survey, the goal being to reach media professionals at all types of media organisations. In the event, the author surveyed 265 representatives of the Latvian media. 25% of them represented regional or local newspapers, 23% came from broadcasting organi-sations, 21% worked for magazines, 15% were employed by national newspapers, 7% came from Internet news portals, 7% represented more than one media organisation, and 2% hailed from local TV and radio stations. 64% of the respondents were women, and 34% were men. Most of them had extensive experience in media work. This may suggest trust in the profession, as well as stable views about its essence. 28% of the respondents had worked in the media for more than 20 years, 14% had work experience between 16 and 20 years, 29% had worked between 11 and 15 years, 18% had been employed for 6 to 10 years, 8% had worked for 2 to 5 years, and 3% had worked in the field for less than 2 years.

AN UNHEALTHY ENVIRONMENT VERSUS PROFESSIONALS

The survey of Latvian journalists shows that professionals from Lat-via’s regional newspapers, news portals and the public media have the highest opinions about their editorial independence. Answers to other questions, however, were full of contradictions. Media people believe that their professionalism can protect editorial independ-ence, but they also admit there are media outlets which have been established on the basis of political interests, as well as that a depend-ence on commercial interests is a fundamental problem. Analysis of Latvian media content in the context of the goals of media owners shows that very few media organisations find social responsibility principles to be of importance, because in most cases the media have been established and managed in order to earn a profit. The views of journalists differ in the sense that they accept the influence of polit-ical and business factors, but they also believe these factors cannot have any major influence on the everyday work of each media pro-fessional.


There were only two questions in the survey, related to problems with editorial independence, with respect to which journalists, ed-itors and producers in Latvia all had the same opinion – the essence of editorial independence and the role of editors in ensuring it. The former question related to the definition that editorial independence meant an opportunity to take independent decisions about content, sources of information, and other professional materials. 96% of re-spondents fully or partly agreed with the statement.

Latvia’s media environment is very heterogeneous. There are media outlets which belong to journalists themselves and, therefore, enjoy a higher level of editorial independence, as well as media outlets at which the work of journalists depends on the business or political interests of the relevant owners. Only 4% of respondents disagreed with the aforementioned definition, and even fewer (3%) wished to amend it (see Figure1). This suggests that varieties in working con-ditions, experiences, jobs and statuses, education and the issue of whether one works for a local or international media company do not mean there are different interpretations of editorial independ-ence.

The best idea about factors which influence editorial independence is provided by answers to questions as to whether media professionals agree that the quality of their work depends on the political ambi-

Figure 1.

The definition of editorial independence.

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tions and profit interests of media owners. The statement was this: “I believe that editorial independence can be limited by the interests of advertisers or other business partners”. 21% of respondents agreed with the statement (9% fully agreed with it, while 12% partly agreed with it). 27% partly disagreed with it, and 49% fully disagreed with the statement (see Figure 2). This clearly proves something that has been noted in other Eastern European countries –the work of jour-nalists is dangerously close to the model of relations between a ser-vice provider and a client – a model which journalists must respect and uphold with the aim of ensuring the relevant media organisa-tion’s commercial interests (Roudakova, 2008).

There are different answers when it comes to political influence on the everyday work of media outlets. The statement was this: “I be-lieve that editorial independence can be limited by the political in-terests and ties of the media owner”, with 28% agreeing, 15% partly disagreeing, and 55% fully disagreeing (see Figure 3). This may show that journalists partly accept the influence of politicians on the me-dia, particularly if the economic survival of the relevant media out-let is not possible without such involvement. The level of political parallelism in the Latvian media world is dictated by several media organisations which were established with the express purpose of representing the political interests of their owners. Articles in such media outlets combine influenced and freely prepared content. These journalists must adapt to political influence and also try to work in accordance with the relevant political principles.

Figure 2.

An evaluation of the impact

of business interests

on editorial independence.


Answers to questions about limitations on editorial independence coincide with results which speak to the professional everyday work of respondents. 76% of respondents claimed that they did not face any regular limitations on editorial independence – ones which could re-duce the quality of journalism. It is not a bad thing if three-quarters of media professionals believe they work freely and are independent in making decisions but sadly, 11% of respondents say their everyday work involves a violation of professional principles (the other 14% of respondents could not answer the relevant question or offered differ-ent interests) (see Figure 4). Some of the respondents said, moreover, that although limitations on editorial independence do not occur regularly, “they do happen occasionally”.

There are contradictions in answers which respondents gave to other questions. Freedom in deciding on content is not a natural element

Figure 3.

An evaluation of the impact of political interests on editorial independence.

Figure 4.

An evaluation of restrictions on editorial independence (1).

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in the everyday lives of journalists, with 54% of respondents fully or partly agreeing with the statement “everyone at our editorial office clearly knows the topics, information sources, views and positions which can be reflected freely, as well as those which should be avoid-ed” (see Figure 5).

The author posed this question to find out how common is the prac-tice which some journalists have mentioned in interviews – that the interests of media directors are implemented by cultivating specific information or, alternatively, by banning the use of certain sources of information and topics. Answers to this question also coincide with something which a few media owners have said about their status as “media bosses”: If necessary, they instruct their employees to sup-port a specific viewpoint, to focus attention on a subject, or to avoid a subject. The instructions which relate to “desirable and undesirable” sources or topics are usually implemented by editors.

Editorial independence is linked to the autonomy of journalists, but 38% of respondents fully or partly agreed with this statement: “I un-derstand that because of the interests of media owners or managers, part of my work is self-censorship”. 40% disagreed and 16% partly disagreed with the statement (see Figure 6).

In answering a question about self-censorship, one respondent said that the taking of free decisions is not always limited by political or commercial interests. Instead, the selection of sources or topics is

Figure 5.

An evaluation of restrictions

on editorial independence

(2).


influenced by editors; their experience, their taste, their beliefs and their social contacts. Journalists also find that to be a limitation on their professional autonomy. Respondents in the survey argued that editors are of particular importance, with journalists believing that the editor is fully responsible for editorial independence and must ensure it.

THE EDITOR AS A “SHIELD”

A second issue with respect to which Latvian media professionals are prepared to agree is the role of the editor in ensuring editorial inde-pendence, with 93% of survey respondents agreeing that the editor must be a “shield” between the editorial office and the media owners or managers so as to protect editorial independence. This view re-flects a situation in which journalists are prepared to delegate greater responsibility to their editors. This, in turn, shows the great role of the editor’s personality, ability to have a strong backbone, and the ability to ensure the respect both of employees and media managers.

Professional self-confidence is also see in another answer – 31% of respondents said all of the staff of the editorial office work together to ensure editorial independence, 22% argued that it depends on the professional position of the respondent as such, and another 22% plumped for the principles of the editor in this regard (see Figure 7).

Figure 6.

An evaluation of self-censorship.

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There is a flip side of the coin, however, when it comes to the impor-tant status of editors. It could be said that “god” and the “devil” are one and the same, because in other questions respondents insisted that editorial independence can be limited by the views of the editor about the mission of the media (13%) or the understanding which the editor has when it comes to the interests of the media outlet’s au-dience (19%) (see Figure 8). This shows that editors have a typically authoritarian management style. If the editor believes a specific top-ic will not attract the attention of the audience, then the recommen-dation for the journalist is to avoid it altogether. When it comes to ensuring editorial independence inside media organisations, howev-er, also of great importance is the professional position of journalists. Media professionals believe the principle of editorial independence is linked to the quality of their work.

Journalists also understand that the commercial interests of media companies are essential. They believe that editorial independence is also determined by the business interests of media owners (13%) and the influence of major advertisers (11%) (see Figure 8). These an-swers coincide with the findings of other studies – that members of the audience cannot influence media content.

The formal level of editorial independence is also revealed by an-swers to the question of whether journalists discuss autonomy and freedom when they accept new jobs. The statement was this: “Upon beginning work in the media, I agreed to the existing level of editori-

Figure 7.

Driving forces behind editorial independence.


al independence”, with 32% agreeing, 45% disagreeing, 11% not be-ing able to answer the question, and 12% offering a different answer (see Figure 9). This shows that editorial independence is often seen as something that goes without saying, and there are no discussions about it unless there is a serious reason to do so. “These are intuitive issues”, said one respondent. “I think that my employer understands my level of thinking and does not find it necessary to constantly re-peat information about where my limitations on freedom end”. An-other respondent’s replies, however, indicated that discussions about editorial independence are necessary at editorial offices. “I thought that [editorial independence] goes without saying and that no agree-ment was necessary, but the truth turned out to be much worse”, she wrote. Another respondent felt the issue is not unambiguous: “I have no sense of how that could lead to an agreement, nor with whom such an agreement could be struck”. These answers confirm respondents generally have a clear sense of the principle of editorial independence, but editorial offices have not established management instruments to ensure it. This suggests that editorial independence, like norms of professional ethics, is perceived in a situational manner (Rožukalne and Olšteina, 2012).

Figure 8.

Limits on editorial independence.

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Of fundamental importance in the survey is the discovery that edi-torial independence, in most cases, is not a part of the job’s contract. Only 27% of respondents said their contract included an agreement on editorial independence, while a few more – 32% – said they agreed on the principle of editorial independence when starting their new job. The rest (41–45%) either did not discuss these issues with their employer or did not have the principle enshrined in the contact (see Figure 10). This indicates that media organisations in Latvia are un-concerned about the regulation of this principle therein.

Figure 9.

Discussions about editorial independence.

Figure 10.

Agreements on editorial

independence.


Answers to questions about the desirable and actual regulations related to editorial independence show that journalists have equal thoughts about the essence thereof, but also that editorial independ-ence is not a natural value in their everyday lives.

THE VICTORY OF INDIVIDUAL EDITORIAL INDEPENDENCE

The most contradictory responses were given to questions about the evaluation of editorial independence in each respondent’s media or-ganisation, as compared to other media outlets. 68% of respondents argued that there is a high level of editorial independence in “my media outlet”, because “I can freely fulfil my professional goals” (25% said that the level is average, while 4% said that it is low) (see Figure 11).

A question about editorial independence at other media organisa-tions leads to bemusing answers. 68% of journalists felt that the level of editorial independence is comfortable at their media outlet, but an equal number – 68% once again – said that “the level of editorial independence at other media organisations with which I am familiar is average, because sometimes colleagues have to compromise be-tween the interests of the editorial board and those which come from outside” (13% said that the level is high, while 16% argued that it is low), because “journalists are not able to work in accordance with professional principles” (see Figure 12).

Figure 11.

An evaluation of editorial independence at “my media outlet”.

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On the one hand, this might suggest that most respondents repre-sent “comfortable” media organisations such as the public media of Latvia, but they have had bad experiences or know colleagues whose working conditions are not as acceptable. This may be true, because some respondents asked the author to send questions to private E-mail addresses, insisting they did not want to receive them at work. On the other hand, the answers also confirm that which was stated at the beginning of this paper – that approximately one-quarter of me-dia professionals in Latvia encounter limitations on editorial inde-pendence. 33% of respondents, in turn, fully or partly agree that they feel fairly comfortable, while colleagues at their own media outlet are forced to follow the orders of advertisers or the “political partners” of the owners.

This question retested thoughts that had been expressed in earlier interviews with journalists and editors – that most of the journalists at media outlets which face political and commercial influences work independently, while a few colleagues regularly follow “instructions” which come from outside the media organisation. This relates to ser-vicing the interests of owners, as well as the duty to prepare hidden advertising – paid news, interview and reports. For that reason, the level of editorial independence in Latvia is easiest to evaluate at the individual level, as opposed to the level of editorial boards or media outlets. Journalists who say that the level of editorial independence at

Figure 12.

An evaluation of the editorial independence

at the “other media”.


the level of organisations or the media industry is average or low are, at the same time, likely to insist that they, as individuals, are free to do their work in accordance with professional principles.

The aforementioned answers can be compared to those which re-spondents gave to a question about the greatest threats against edito-rial independence. Cited most often was the answer “media owners establish media outlets for political purposes” (30% of respondents), followed by “media owners are highly dependent on advertisers” (24%), “the media are conceived primarily for business purposes, with social responsibility being in the background” (20%), “the audi-ence underestimates the importance of free and independent media” (18%), and “editors are unable to defend their professional interests” (8%) (see Figure 13). This means that journalists are aware of the influence of media owner’s goals, a lack of traditions in terms of the free press, and carelessness about professionalism (Saalovara and Juzefovičs, 2012).

Some journalists think that few members of the audience consider the independent media to be of value. 18% of the answers show that journalists are well aware of audience attitudes about the quality of media that are subject to pressure and related to ratings and circu-lation, and instead demand entertaining and easily perceived con-tent. These journalists agree with the statement that “the audience underestimates the importance of free and independent media”. This

Figure 13.

The main threats against editorial independence.

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answer may show journalists are looking for the causes of limitations on editorial independence and finding them in terms of the concepts of media editors, as well as situations outside of the media organisa-tion – needing to respect the low demands which one segment of the audience have toward media quality.

CONCLUSIONS

Data from this survey can be analysed by correlating them with the status of respondents. Respondents who judge the level of editorial independence at their media organisation as low or average represent the regional media, as well as national newspapers and magazines, admitting they have prepared hidden advertising. Most of these re-spondents have a great deal of professional experience in journalism and have worked in the media world for more than 11 years. This shows there are big problems in Latvia’s printed press with editorial independence and the autonomy of journalists. This is confirmed by a study of Latvian media owners, which shows the influence of daily newspapers has been lost specifically because of their political links, with magazines being saturated with commercialised information that is published in the interests of advertisers.

Respondents who agree that editorial independence can be limited by political links or business considerations admitted to self-censorship. Their job contracts include no agreement on editorial independence, these respondents work as editors, and they have more than 15 years of experience. At the same time, these same respondents believe that the level of editorial independence at their media outlets is average or high. Although these are contradictory data, analysis of interviews with media professionals make it possible to conclude that the status of an editor forces the individual to take responsibility for editorial independence even if that independence must be implemented un-der limited circumstances. Most editors accept rules from owners which apply to political or business interests, because they believe that that is the only way to survive in an oversaturated media market and to keep their jobs.

Even at those media organisations at which there are limits on edi-torial independence, journalists find ways of working independently, and that is why this survey shows that editorial independence is rated more highly at the individual level than at the level of organisations


and the media industry as a whole. Journalists implement editorial independence by finding ways of freely shaping content that is devot-ed to a specific topic or by being responsible for their “own” columns, sections or broadcasts. This often relates to columns related to cul-ture or entertainment, sports journalism, educational materials and social issues. This professional strategy allows the journalist to feel free and independent, avoiding commissioned content in the rele-vant media outlet and not losing professional self-confidence, clearly knowing that editorial independence does not go without saying as part of the everyday work of journalistic professionals.

Latvian journalists are accustomed to limits on editorial independ-ence and the situational nature of the extent to which this principle is observed. At an informal level, there are discussions about editori-al independence at media outlets, but few professionals discuss this when getting a new job, and even fewer respondents say that the legal right to observe editorial independence in their work is enshrined in their job contracts. This means that the current situation is one in which there is a clearly evident lack of professional principles and traditions, as well as media goals which relate to social responsibility. Respondents in this survey think highly of the individual autonomy of journalists, but media workers clearly understand the limitations on editorial independence that are implemented by owners, direc-tors or editors-in-chief. The contradictory evaluations of editorial independence between “our” and “their” media organisations show that there are differences in the culture of the media and the everyday professional work of journalists in terms of a single media industry.

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REFERENCES

Balčytienė, A. (2009). Market-Led Reforms as Incentives for media Change, Development and Diversification in the Baltic States. The International Communication Gazette, Vol. 71 (1–2), 39–49 DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1748048508097929.

Grattan, M. (2008). Editorial Independence: An Outdated Concept? University of Queensland, Department of Journalism.

Himelboim, I., and Limor, Y. (2008). Media Perception of Free-dom of the Pess: A Comparative International Analysis of 242 Codes of Ethics. Journalism, Vol. 9, 235–265. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1464884907089007.

Hoey, J. (2008). Editorial Independence in the Electronic Age: New Threats, Old Owners? Retrieved August 25, 2013, from http://www.msmonographs.org/article.asp?issn=0973-1229;year=2008;vol-ume=6;issue=1;spage=226;epage=236;aulast=Hoey.

McLellan, M. (2008). Editorial Independence: Let’s Get Real. Retrieved August 22, 2013, from http://archive.knightdigitalmediacenter.org/leadership_blog/comments/editorial_independence_lets_get_real/.

McQuail, D. (2010). Mass Communication Theory, 6th Edition. Lon-don: Sage Publications.

Mediadem (2010). Background Information Report: Media Policies and Regulatory Practices in a Selected Set of European Countries, the EU and the Council of Europe. Retrieved May 21, 2013, from http://www.mediadem.eliamep.gr/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/BIR1.pdf.

Mediadem (2012). Policy Report Addressing State and Non-State Actors Involved in the Design and Implementation of Media Policies Supportive of Media Freedom and Independence, the European Union and the Council of Europe. Retrieved June 22, 2013, from http://www.mediadem.eliamep.gr/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/D4.1.pdf.

Metyková, M., and Waschková Císarová, L. (2009). Changing Jour-nalistic Practices in Eastern Europe: The Cases of the Czech Repub-lic, Hungary and Slovakia. Journalism, Vol. 10(5), 719–736. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1464884909106541.


Roudakova, N. (2008). Media Political Clientelism: Lessons from Anthropology. Media, Culture and Society, Vol. 30, 41–59. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/0163443707084349.

Rožukalne, A. (2013). Latvia’s Media Owners: A Monograph on Lat-via’s Media System and the Most Important Owners Thereof. Riga: Ap-gāds Zinātne.

Rožukalne, A., and Olšteina, I. (2012). Vadlīnijas mediju profesionāļi-em “Kā medijos runāt par un ar bērniem?” [Guidelines for Media Pro-fessionals: How to Speak About and With Children in the Mass Me-dia?]. Retrieved June 20, 2013, from http://www.tiesibsargs.lv/files/vadlinijas_ka_medijos_runat_ar_un_par_berniem_2012.pdf.

Salovaara, I., and Juzefovics, J. (2012). Who Pays For Good Journal-ism? Accountability Journalism and Media Ownership in the Cen-tral and Eastern European Countries. Journalism Studies, Vol. 13 (5-6), 763-774. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/1461670X.2012.664425.

Scholl, A., and Weischenberg, S. (1999). Autonomy in Journalism: How It Is Related to Attitudes and Behavior of Media Professionals. Retrieved August 25, 2013, http://www.scripps.ohiou.edu/wjmcr/vol02/2-4a-B.htm.

Smith, E.R. (2006). Editorial Independence: So What Does It Mean? Canadian Journal of Cardiology, Vol. 22 (5), 433–434. Retrieved August 25, 2013, from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2560541/.

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Privatisation of press in Central and Eastern Europe 1989-1991. Case study: Romania

PRIVATISATION OF PRESS IN CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 1989–1991. CASE STUDY: ROMANIA

Matei [email protected] lecturer of Romanian contemporary historyDepartament of Romanian History and Southeast Europe Faculty of History, University of BucharestBucharest, Romania

ABSTRACT: One of the measures which had a major impact in achieving a free press was the liberalization of the media market, and thus foreign trusts were able to enter the market. These trusts promoted a politics free from any political interests, and also being passed over in the property of certain persons or national groups. In the first years after 1989, foreign press trusts attempted to develop a powerful media network in the respective countries, aiming at making huge profits, since the “hunger for press” was so high that profit was guaranteed. After December 1989 in Romania, the state monopoly gradually vanished due to the appearance of some new press enterprises, even though, at an early stage, setting up a publication did not have the required legal framework. In 1990, it may be noticed that press was regrouped into two large categories: one consisted of headlines which belonged to the state and were later to undergo privatization, and the second one consisted of headlines created by private enterprises, individually or grouped. During the priva-tization process, various methods were used, according to case. As compared with the other countries in the region, Romania did not benefit from the contribution of foreign capital dedicated to the development of the mass-media system. Despite this lack of foreign capital into the mass-media market, Romanian undertakings were courageous enough to invest in this field, in which gains had become a certainty.

KEYWORDS: privatisation, press, Romania, Hungary, media economy, transition countries

ISSN 2029-865Xdoi://10.7220/2029-865X.09.06


In a capitalist society, the media plays a number of roles, serving the readers, society, and consumers. The media disseminates informa-tion and offers the interested parties the opportunity to hold pub-lic talks, directed towards political and social matters and economic issues. Soon after communism fell, in Central and Eastern Europe several newspapers appeared and their number exceeded the finan-cial power of the patronage and the readers, which turned the battle between newspapers into a fight for survival.

At the same time, journalists in this region realized that both poli-ticians and the audience did not have a preference for investigative journalism. Even the governments and political leaders in the most democratic states in Central and Eastern Europe continued to be-lieve that the most efficient use of the media was to consider news-papers “attack dogs” and not “watch dogs”. They believed the noisiest and the most sarcastic voice was the most efficient one (Johnson, 1998: 113–121).

The paper at hand shall endeavour to analyse the manner in which the press in this region underwent the privatisation process in the years 1989–1991, with emphasis on the manner in which it was con-ducted in Romania. Furthermore, the paper will endeavour to pres-ent the manner in which Western trusts entered these new markets. In Romania’s case the paper will analyse the reasons why this action was not possible. Among the sources used in Romania’s case are a number of interviews with journalists and newspapers’ managers from that period.

One of the measures that had a major impact on achieving a free press was the liberalization of the media market, thus allowing for-eign trusts to enter the market, and these trusts promoted a policy independent from any political interests. A stronger censure in coun-tries such as USSR, Romania and Albania as compared to Poland or Yugoslavia left a mark on the formation of a real class of journal-ists who should have other aspirations than the ones related to Party propaganda. State media was first monopolized and subsequently the liberalization process led to privatisation (Mungiu-Pippidi, 2008: 90). As compared to other countries some of them were an attraction for foreign investors; as such they may be divided into three groups:

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1. Countries that rushed to take over the Western model by way of an influx of movies, television programs and other media products however investments being excluded. This lead to a decrease in the growth of local products, which were not too numerous.

2. Countries, such as the Baltic countries, in which the polit-ical stability, economic growth and the development of the market economy brought investors a profit, however it was too small to achieve a significant growth of their incomes.

3. Countries, such as Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slova-kia and Poland, also including some actions in others which were seen as markets favourable to large investors (Jakubow-icz, 2007: 216–217).

Other factors that made the privatisation of the media easier were identified in Central and Eastern Europe: (1) in some countries in the region, clandestine media was an initial and natural source for the new private press; (2) collapse of state and government control generated some conditions of semi-freedom for the written press; (3) written press private institutions were cheaper and easier to incorpo-rate than private radio and television institutions; (4) great number of former communist newspapers allowed an already existing system to undergo privatisation (Gross, 1999: 89).

After 1989, media became the manager of its own undertaking, by taking over the newspapers, either by privatisation, or by acquiring the name and history of certain publications. As a result of the chang-es in August 1989, the media underwent profound structural modi-fications which affected their legal and economic statute. In the first years after 1989, foreign press trusts attempted to develop a strong media network in these countries, counting on huge profits, since the “hunger for press” was so great that profit was guaranteed. With the economic changes, the new reforms, and decrease of the purchasing power of the people, these trusts redirected their attention to certain niche publications, which were able to support themselves and, as in the case of Hungary, they chose to withdraw. The explosion of the press also led to an explosion in the number of journalists, driven by their desire to become involved in this sector.


As regards privatisation, one success case in that period was the case of Hungary. Due to the liberalization during communism and the subsequent transition, the media was able to become an institution and an independent political player, thus becoming legitimized in front of their readers (Hall and O’Neil, 1998: 125).

The daily newspaper Népszabadság, the newspaper with the largest circulation at national level, separated from the Labour Party, and 40% of the shares were sold to the German conglomerate “Bertels-mann AG”. The government newspaper Magyar Hírlap became an independent concern, and 40% of the shares were sold to Robert Maxwell – Mirror Holding Company. At the same time, the official newspaper of the trade union, Népszava, separated from the state ideology and the connections with the trade unions, however with-out benefiting from the support of foreign capital (Lánczi and O’Neil, 1996: 89).

During the most popular event that occurred in early April 1990, seven regional newspapers, former bodies of the Hungarian Labour Party, achieved a spontaneous privatisation, transferring them to the ownership of the German press magnate, Axel Springer. The lat-ter did not pay anything for this takeover, he simply guaranteed he would continue to keep them operational (Lánczi and O’Neil, 1996: 89–90).

As such, the Hungarian press achieved the highest degree of priva-tisation in Central and Eastern Europe, benefiting from the largest foreign capital infusion since the socialist and communist regime, prior to the organization of free elections.

As regards the Polish example, the newspaper Rzeczpospolita, the former government press body, after privatisation became a limited liability company, a sort of joint venture between the Polish govern-ment and the French company Socpress. This change allowed the publication in question to gain its editorial independence (Lánczi and O’Neil, 1996: 26).

Another important daily newspaper was Zycie Warszawy, the oldest newspaper in this category, incorporated in 1944. In 1991, the news-paper became part of a new company, which was made up of the following: Societa Televisiana Italiana, several Polish companies and

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Warsaw Press (the shares were held by several Polish journalists). In 1993, several shares belonging to the Polish party were sold to the Italian partners, which in the end came to hold 80% of the shares (Lánczi and O’Neil, 1996: 26).

The case for privatisation to foreign trusts in the Czech Republic may be exemplified by way of the newspaper Mladá fronta – Youth Front – the newspaper of the party’s youth organization, which quickly gained credibility with the help of a team of young journal-ists who joined the newspaper and which presented in a favourable manner the student demonstrations from November and December 1989. After being renamed into Mladá fronta dnes – Today’s Youth Front, the newspaper started to follow a new path in the Czech me-dia. Mladá fronta dnes became part of trust Socpress, owned by the French magnate Robert Hersant (Kettle, 1996, 45–47).

In 1990, the Swiss Group Ringier entered this market with the fi-nancial newspaper Profit, confusing the market all of a sudden by launching the tabloid Blesk – Thunder – in 1992, which quickly be-came the bestselling newspaper in the Czech Republic.

As regards the case of Romania, the private sector began to make its presence felt in the context of confusing economic politics led by the state and given the absence of regulatory measures able to en-sure coherent development. The “sui generis” enterprisers profited by the advantages which the new “free market” of consumer goods offered for coming out of the clandestine state and developing eco-nomic activities. The present state was so natural that the free will of each individual became a certainty, lacking any boundaries. They acted on a market which lacked any regulatory measures, and even if they existed they were disregarded (Pasti, 2006: 309). The disso-lution of the communist state led to a fierce fight for taking over its patrimony, especially the one belonging to the party. This fight was regarded by Silviu Brucan as being part of the stage of “wild capital-ism” (Brucan, 1996: 61–128), a stage when an economy of prey was born in which the main elements were the primitive acquisition of capital and the formation of new economic and political elites, and oftentimes they were rooted in the party activists and members of the Security Services (Brucan, 1996: 61–128; Pasti, 2006: 307–498). It is a fight fought on all fronts and which was not subject to any rules.


Nicolae Arsenie, former journalist with Adevărul, remembered a discussion with Darie Novăceanu, the newspaper’s manager, with two Spanish journalists, who told him about Spain’s transition from Franco’s dictatorship to democracy. They told him that: “You are left with what you put your hands on”. “And in this manner I succeeded in mobilizing some colleagues into scraping together a patrimony for Adevărul” (Interview 1).

Another problem which the Romanian economy faced was the lack of foreign investments, which may be explained by the lack of politi-cal measures aimed at drawing capital. The politics promoted by the National Salvation Front, and expressed in an electoral campaign in the 90s, had a properly defined path contained in the slogan: “we are not selling our country”. This latter remark was directed against Ion Raţiu, one of the opposition leaders, and his program of becoming more open towards the West. The communist isolation had contin-ued after 1990. On the other hand, Western investors were not drawn to Romania in those years. An explanation for this attitude could rest in the lack of information on Romania, which was known primarily from the stories written by Bram Stoker.

As regards the media, after the 1989 events, the state monopoly grad-ually vanished through the incorporation of new press enterprises, even if, in a first stage, the establishment of a new publication did not benefit from the required legal background. In 1990, we notice a regrouping of the press into two large categories, a part comprising publications belonging to the state and which were to be later priva-tised, and the other part comprising publications printed by private individuals or grouped enterprisers. The transfer of ownership from the lawful owners (Romanian Communist Party, Communist Youth Union, Romanian Trade Unions General Union) to the government and thereafter to the employees was achieved by way of a number of normative acts (Petcu, 2002: 94). The first normative act was the de-cree dated 15 January 1990, which gave birth to the Printing House “Presa Liberă”.

As compared to other countries in the region, Romania did not ben-efit from the contribution of foreign capital in its effort to develop a mass-media system. The state of the press editors, in Bucharest, in the year 1991, had the following structure (Petcu, 2002: 96):

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COMPOSITION OF CAPITAL PUBLISHING OF NEWSPAPERS

PUBLISHING OF MAGAZINES AND

PERIODICALS

Full foreign private capital 2 1

Mixed capital, Romanian state and private capital 1 1

Full Romanian private capital 244 175

Romanian and foreign private capital 24 16

State owned capital in full - 5

As can be noticed from Table 1 above, in 1991 the publications held in full by Romanian capital were predominant. In its capacity as own-er, the State was only marginally represented, and the involvement of foreign capital accounted only for an insignificant share. Despite the prospect of gaining a significant profit, the foreign capital and West-ern investors did not see fit to invest in the Romanian mass-media market, in this first period of transition. After the 1989 Revolution, Romania’s image was affected by the political and economic meas-ures of the newly installed power. The inherited communist system could not be radically reformed, therefore as regards the discussed aspect, we may speak about a lack of activity in Romania, as com-pared to other countries in the region.

Despite the lack of foreign capital in the mass-media market, Ro-manian enterprisers had the courage to invest in this field, in which achieving a gain had become a certainty. In 1990, press owners relied on obtaining profit from selling publications. Advertising was added to this process, which did not exist in the communist period. Profits achieved from press were considerable, and an example of this was România Liberă, which in the first five months of 1990 earned RON 80m with expenses of RON 51m, paid taxes worth RON 11m, and was left with a profit of approximately USD 800,000 (Petcu, 2002: 78). Oftentimes, profits achieved from press were invested in oth-er fields, and thus some of the owners in the mass-media business shortly became successful businessmen.

Table 1.

The structure of the Romanian

capital press – 1991 (Commercial

Registry, Romanian

Chamber of Commerce and

Industry).


We will hereinafter present the manner in which the main Romanian daily newspapers were privatised, in particular Adevărul – the heir of the former press body of the Romanian Communist Party and România liberă, which became the main opposition newspaper.

As regards România liberă, the manager from that period and, later, also one of the main shareholders of the daily newspaper, Petre Mi-hai Băcanu, recalls the following:

We were the first newspaper that was privatised. Our asso-ciation contract was numbered 001. The problem we were facing was that the printing house was a nuisance for us, in the sense that we had to pay upfront in order for the printing workers to start their work and secondly they had began to censure us. It was at that time that we thought to ourselves we need our own printing house. Decree No. 54 was passed, if I am not mistaken, conceived by Iliescu, (the president of Romania) and Roman (the prime minister of Romania), at the level of slightly larger workshops, no more than 20 persons. I read the law and consulted a specialist in business law, who told me a little about the history of this decree. At the time the decree was conceived, they thought let’s play experts in business law and they turned to a professor in business law, a great authority under the communist regime; he added to the law a very simple matter, these small com-panies, of no more than 20 persons, as per the Commercial code of 1885, as far as I know it had not been abrogated, could become associated. I consulted with a lawyer and I said “here’s the story, we are a number of 123 persons, we incorporate six companies and we immediately become as-sociated”. I was told nothing was against the law. And there on the spot, at the reception desk, we named six enterprises; I forgot to write the name România Liberă, for which reason when the government found out that we were privatised the entire press became alerted, and all kinds of commissions were sent to investigate us (Interview 2).

When I asked whether he paid any money for this privatisation, he answered:

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We had nothing, other than our pens, at that time it did not have a name, matters of this nature, with rights registered with OSIM (authority handling the registration of trade-marks). We were lucky we had created a printing house, which we named România liberă and any printing house was able to also print a newspaper (Interview 2).

Petre Mihai Băcanu, along with other members of the editorial staff, began the process of incorporating small enterprises under Decree No. 54/1990. It is not a privatisation process per se, since at that time there were no laws in force in this sector.

By using the provisions of this decree, six small enterprises were in-corporated, which became associated, giving birth to the Company R. Transferring România Liberă from the state’s ownership into pri-vate ownership was achieved in exchange for no money. Given the conditions previously presented, some criticisms brought against this process are substantiated, because a brand having a significant circulation was privatised. This was achieved as a result of the ex-isting legislative void. In 1991, Company R was registered with the Commercial Registry.

The second presented case is more spectacular, given that the priva-tisation of the daily newspaper had implications at the highest level in Romania.

In 1990, the daily newspaper Adevărul was the main Romanian news-paper, with a circulation that reached 1.5 million readers a day. At the same time, it was the descendent of the Communist Party’s newspa-per, following its direction. In particular it supported the country’s leaders, in the case at hand the team installed by Ion Iliescu.

The moment chosen by Darie Novăceanu (newspaper manager) to privatise Adevărul is not poor in political implications. In March 1991, Petre Roman was elected the national leader of the National Salvation Front. Ever since the autumn of 1990, a fierce fight had begun for grasping power between the group led by Petre Roman and the group led by Ion Iliescu. Albeit at that particular moment, one could not speak about a face to face fight between the two group leaders, the fight was starting to get fiercer. In an article published in Adevărul, Silviu Brucan described this confrontation: “young Turks


and a group of Martians, Bârlad citizens and Ştefan-Gheoghiu fol-lowers on the Cotroceni Hill, desperately clinging to key positions in the nomenclature”. Since Darie Novăceanu was close to Petre Roman, Adevărul was an essential “endowment” in the service of his fight. Ever since December 1990, Darie Novăceanu had accepted for pub-lication an article written by C.T. Popescu, Daruri pentru preşedinte (But Mr. President) (Popescu, 1990), one of the articles criticising Ion Iliescu in Adevărul, thus the newspaper had begun to outline its position in this dispute.

At the time the newspaper was privatised, two very important mat-ters significantly influenced this process: the first one was politics, by the fact that Adevărul was a true weapon used in the fight for power, and the second was the economy, the huge patrimony it had gathered, and dividing this patrimony was very important (in 1990 a number of assets were transferred from the ownership of the state in the patrimony of Adevărul; at the same time the incomes achieved from selling newspapers were very high).

From among the interviewees, the paper will present the opin-ions of some journalists, who played a significant role in its priva-tisation. The process was commenced by its manager, in particular Darie Novăceanu, who attempted to take over the publication, along with the patrimony gathered in the previous year. After a meeting, Novăceanu was excluded and the journalists took over the newspa-per.

Sergiu Andon (at that time a journalist with Adevărul and the pres-ident of the Romanian Newspaper Company, the most important press trade union) recalls:

The day of the general meeting followed. The morning was marked by tensions, and the meeting was extremely stormy. I recall speaking excessively. I had put all my eggs in one basket. Most people came from Scînteia (predecessor of Adevărul), not necessarily from a com-pany made up of calm people, but from a professional community that included disciplined persons by their nature. On the one hand, at Scînteia there were free talks, as compared against other editorial staffs, and the sense of discipline and the fact that it was a privilege to work where they worked caused them to be disciplined. All of a sud-den they played everything in an adventurous manner, their biogra-

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phy, their job, their salary, their social status, and a rebellion within Scînteia was unimaginable. It is quite a miracle for me even now, that these people joined a dissident mission. A dissident position was against personal nature, biorhythm and daily reflection. And I imagine that it was only the desperation to continue with such an inspiriting experiment, which we were living, that made them come together so quickly and only two of them remained by Novăceanu’s side. The newspaper would have ceased to exist if it had turned into a government office. The winning current was very precarious. Victory resembled the victory of a street revolt, which at the time seemed to be winning. The newspaper could be easily suffocated, despite Darie Novăceanu’s departure (Interview 3).

In addition, Ion Marin (journalist with Adevărul, who became the deputy chief-editor) recalls:

We convened an ad-hoc general meeting. Many people gathered in the meeting room. Darie Novăceanu continued his work with the newspaper, together with his team and friends. After that, things got a bit more intense. The calm and academic voice was put aside. The talk lasted for an entire day, the baffling tone was permanent, he used to come and leave, he said he had things to attend to, that he need-ed to produce a newspaper. Roman together with Darie Novăceanu wanted to create a very powerful media tribune (Interview 4).

The last interview is with Cristian Tudor Popescu (journalist with Adevărul, one of Darie Novăceanu’s trusted people, who became one of the most renowned Romanian journalists):

Some time had passed and an editorial meeting was called in which Mr Novăceanu put forward this privatisation plan. I had little idea what privatisation meant, but I realized this was no privatisation. The State held more than 90 per cent and I will tell you why my article written in December was published. Darie Novăceanu could have told me that it would not be published. Faced with the article Darie Novăceanu pulled his moustache and told me: “My dear Cristi, it stings pretty bad.” He told me, please leave it here and he did not tell me whether it would be published or not. After that, I read the article in the newspaper. What happened then. At that time the op-tion for the newspaper was Petre Roman’s. The silent war between Iliescu and Roman had begun. Darie Novăceanu was closer to Pe-


tre Roman. His political preference was very clear. At that moment, Darie gathered the entire staff and presented this plan. I had little idea about such things but I felt chills down my spine. The govern-ment was supposed to hold over 90 per cent of the shares, not the state but the government. Darie Novăceanu was supposed to hold 1 per cent and the remaining shares were to be divided among the oth-ers. The government had a huge stake, Novăceanu had a small stake, but larger than the others. I asked what kind of privatisation was this. After this, people had become agitated. Things got out control, Darie Novăceanu got to his feet and left” (Interview 5).

As presented by the interviewees, the journalists were successful in eliminating Darie Novăceanu and they declared their independence in relation to the state, thus launching the process of taking over the publication. The publication encountered a number of problems at the time the editorial staff took over the publication. One of the most significant problems was the political one. The next step was a visit paid by the board of directors to Ion Iliescu, thus proving that the paper was the object of a dispute between the two factions of the National Salvation Front. As Sergiu Andon says “notifying the in-tentions”, meant presenting Ion Iliescu with guarantees with regards to the paper’s new direction. The fight for privatisation was fierce, in which Petre Roman, through Darie Novăceanu, attempted to acquire control over a media tribune which was very powerful especially for the voters of the National Salvation Front, and also to acquire control over a huge patrimony, in exchange for little cost.

In the end Adevărul was privatised by following the much blamed model of România Liberă, by way of a company incorporated in De-cember 1990, by Nicolae Arsenie and other members of the editorial staff and who financially controlled the state newspapers subscrip-tions for several months. Thus, we believe the allegations that the journalists took over Adevărul only in possession of their pens are unsubstantiated, as they had a considerable number of subscrip-tions, made on behalf of Adevărul S.A., ever since December 1990 and moreover they had the benefit of an important brand, which they took over free of charge. This privatisation process reflected a manner in which several state economic bodies were transferred to private ownership.

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The emergence of external investors in Hungary, Czechoslovakia (the Czech side) and Poland meant signalling a company open to-wards a Western type democracy. In Romania and Bulgaria, the state attempted to maintain their control over the press, hindering or fail-ing to create mechanisms aimed at drawing such investments. West-ern investors saw in this market a financial opportunity and they stayed there as investors as long as they were able to achieve large incomes without significant investments. In Romania, the transfer of ownership from state institutions to private persons or entities was achieved without their owners achieving any income. At the same time, simultaneously with this transfer, the transfer of the assets held by the publications was attempted. As compared to other countries in the region, Romania did not benefit from foreign capital for devel-oping the mass-media system. Despite the lack of foreign capital on the mass-media market, Romanian enterprisers had the boldness to invest in this sector, in which winning had become a certainty.


REFERENCES

Brucan, S. (1996). Stâlpii noii puteri în România. Bucureşti: Nemira.

Gross, P. (1999). Colosul cu picioare de lut: aspecte ale presei românes-ti post-comuniste. Iaşi: Polirom.

Hall, R. A., and O’Neil, P. H. (1998). Institutions, Transitions and the Media: A Comparison of Hungary and Romania In P. H. O’Neil (ed.), The Media and Political Transitions. Lynne Rienner Publisher, pp. 102-123.

Interview 1. With Nicolae Arsene on June 12, 2009.

Interview 2. With Petre Mihai Băcanu on March 2, 2011.

Interview 3. With Sergiu Andon on June 10, 2009.

Interview 4. With Ion Marin on June 10, 2009.

Interview 5. With Cristian Tudor Popescu June 15, 2009.

Jakubowicz, K. (2007). Rude Awakening: Social and Media Change in Central and Eastern Europe, Hampton Press.

Johnson, O. (1998). The Media and Democracy in Eastern Europe. In P. H. O’Neil (ed.), The Media and Political Transitions. Lynne Rienner Publisher, pp. 103-124.

Kettle, S. (1996). The Development of the Czech Media Since the Fall of Communism. In P. H. O’Neil (ed.), Special Issue: Post-Com-munism and the Media in Eastern Europe, London : Cass.

Lánczi, András, O’Neil, Patrick H. (1996). Pluralization and the pol-itics of media change in Hungary In Patrick H. O’Neil (ed.), Special Issue: Post-Communism and the Media in Eastern Europe, London: Cass, pp. 82-101.

Mungiu-Pippidi, A. (2008). How Media and Politics Shape Each Other in the New Europe. In K. Jakubowicz and M. Sükösd (ed.), Finding the Right Place on the Map: Central and Eastern European Media Change in a Global Perspective. Bristol: Intellect Books, pp. 87–100.

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Pasti, V. (2006). Noul capitalism românesc. Iaşi: Polirom.

Petcu, M. (1996). Tipologia presei româneşti. Iaşi: Institutul Europe-an.

Popescu, C. T. (1900). Daruri pentru preşedinte. Adevărul, No. 305, 1–2.

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Media for the minorities: Russian language media in Estonia 1990-2012

ISSN 2029-865Xdoi://10.7220/2029-865X.09.07

MEDIA FOR THE MINORITIES: RUSSIAN LANGUAGE MEDIA IN ESTONIA 1990–2012

Andres JÕ[email protected], Associate ProfessorBaltic Film and Media SchoolTallinn UniversityHead of Media ResearchEstonian Public BroadcastingTallinn, Estonia

Salme [email protected] Public BroadcastingTallinn, Estonia

Maria [email protected] CandidateUniversity of JyväskyläJyväskylä, Finlanda

ABSTRACT: This article aims to explore the ways in which Estonian public broa-dcasting tackles one specific media service sphere; how television programmes for language minorities are created in a small country, how economics and European Union media policy have influenced this processes. The article highlights major ten-sions, namely between Estonian and Russian media outlets, Estonian and Russian speakers within Estonia and the EU and Estonia concerning the role of public ser-vice broadcasting (PSB). For research McQuail’s (2010) theoretical framework of media institutions’ influencers – politics, technology and economics – is used. For analyses media regulatory acts and audience surveys are accomplished with me-dia institutions financial data from the beginning of 1990s until 2012. This kind of approach gives a comprehensive overview of development of Russian language media in such a small media market as Estonia is.

KEYWORDS: public service broadcasting, Russian language media, European me-dia policy, Estonia


INTRODUCTION

From the end of the 1980s, Eastern and Central European countries had the noble aim of changing from the communist regime towards free democratic wel¬fare states. Among the important aspects of that development were changes in the media systems. In transition states, commercial broadcasters were founded, state-owned print media was mainly privatized, state radio and television companies became public service broadcasters. ‘Europeanization’, as defined by Jakubowicz (2009), took place. The overall aims of Pan-European media policy were preserving cultural diversity and safeguarding media pluralism. For doing so there are two main approaches to or-ganizing the media – the free market liberal and collectivist-statist strategies (Curran, 1997: 139). Coming from the communist regime, an alternative, the collective provision, was difficult to introduce due to the experience from the recent past. Therefore, the first strategy was introduced mainly in CEE countries, especially in the Baltic states. The free market liberal approach was supported by Europe-an Union media policy, which is a common market ideology. Sev-eral researchers claim that economic welfare is a dominating value in communications policy (Picard, 2002a; Croteau and Hoynes, 2001: 21; Murdock and Golding, 1989: 192). Private ownership of media was also idealized by ruling politicians (Jõesaar, 2011). The former Television Without Frontiers Directive (TVWF), now the Audiovisual Media Services Directive (AVMSD), does not take into account country-specific circumstances such as size of the national (and media) market, economic conditions, cultural and historical specific context. However, these are important factors which have a strong influence on media development and performance (Lowe et al., 2011). Implementation of the same EU legal framework in differ-ent circumstances gives different results in different member states (Jakubowicz, 2007a).

Knell and Srholec (2007) have analysed the post-communist coun-tries using a Varieties of Capitalism framework defined by Hall and Soskice (2001). Their finding provides a solid cornerstone for fur-ther media analyses – Estonia is described as a country with a liberal market economy. Bohle and Greskovits’ (2012) and Buchen’s (2007) researches come to the same conclusions after comparing Estonian and other Eastern European countries economies.

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SMALL MARKET, BIG PROBLEMS

For development, small market size plays an important role (Puppis, 2009; Lowe et al., 2011). This has been an advantage in building up the Estonian e-State (Charles, 2009), but a disadvantage where na-tional journalism is concerned.

Market size determines resources’ availability. In smaller states there are fewer resources available (Doyle, 2002; Lowe et al., 2011; Jõe-saar, 2011). If the market is big enough for profitable business and resources are available, the general media tasks (variety, pluralism etc.) are fulfilled and launch of niche media outlets will follow. On the other hand, restricted market entry and global concentration of ownership encourage common denominator provision for the mass market. Market-based media system is incapable of presenting a full range of political and economic interests in the public domain and finding expression in popular fiction (Curran, 1997: 140).

Functioning base for private media is driven by the basic principles of market economy, not by the needs of civil society in the first place. “One dollar, one voice” is a generalization of market economy prin-ciples by Croteau and Hoynes (2001: 21). This is a simplification of the essence of mass media, but also a relevant factor which shapes commercial media in particular and through this the whole media economy. Privatized communication markets primarily address peo-ple in their role as consumers rather than as citizens (Murdock and Golding, 1989: 192).

Market forces do not guarantee that the media will serve their non-economic function as institutions of the democratic public sphere, and in many ways the breakdown of the forces that coun-terbalanced market forces has already taken its toll on the quality of news, sensationalism and other ethical problems, biases in the seg-ments of society served by the media, and in some cases potentially dangerous concentrations of media power (Hallin, 2008: 55).

Due to market limitations, it is unprofitable to launch a wide range of media products in smaller markets. The diversity of content offered will be lower in smaller states than in large markets. In the first place, commercial media focuses on mainstream content. If the market is not big enough for the private sector to deliver a variety of media

Andres JÕESAAR | Salme RANNU | Maria JUFEREVA


products in a national language, how then are the interests of minor-ity groups served? Minority language groups in small countries are a tiny, unprofitable niche market. This case study examines one such niche market – the Russian language media in Estonia.

When talking about economical background of multilingual mar-kets, Hesmondhalgh (2013) refers to the taste of different ethnic groups. Can we talk about common culture or about geocultural markets as defined by Hesmondhalgh (2013: 279)? Even if there is a shared history, the interpretation of it still remains largely different for the main ethnic groups. It is more relevant to talk about geo-linguistics and diasporic media. There are definitely some positive examples of cross border television progressive with cultural conse-quences (Hesmondhalgh, 2013: 285), but the separation of the Rus-sian-speaking audience from the Estonian information field caused by foreign Russian channels creates many challenges for Estonian so-ciety. Gitlin (1999: 173) argues whether democracy requires a public or a set of publics, a public sphere or ‘separate public sphericules’. It can be so, but according to the habermasian theory of public sphere, these sphericules must also have a higher communication space or sphere. Otherwise there will be isolated ‘islands of different groups’ in the society. It is argued that if there are no ongoing negotiations among members of different groups then media can provide help. If this is true, then how can media policy support these processes?

According to McQuail (2010), influencers of media institutions are politics, technology and economics. In the next chapters an analysis of these three aspects is carried out. As already noted, Estonia had and still has a very liberal media policy. Print media is unlicensed. There is no need for extra permission or registration. Establishing of a newspaper or a magazine is as easy as founding of any private company. From the language perspective there are no differences in publishing in Estonian or in other languages.

Due to the scarcity of transmission frequencies broadcasting was, and still is, regulated on the state and European level. The question is, however, not only a technical one. Licensing of broadcasting com-panies is an important part of overall media policy.

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FORMATION OF ESTONIA’S RUSSIAN-SPEAKING MEDIA: IN-TRODUCING LIBERTY OF PRESS, CHANGING OF TECHNOLO-GIES

In the first half of the 1990s, dramatic changes on the Estonian me-dia landscape took place: a) Privatization of the print media; b) Ter-minating re-transmission of pan-Soviet radio and TV channels; c) The sharp decline of availability of pan-Soviet newspapers issued in Russia (Russian newspapers which were previously widely and cheaply available were to be ordered on the same basis as all other foreign editions); d) Transition radio frequencies from UKV to FM and closing of medium wave radio stations; e) Replacing SECAM tel-evision standard with PAL; f) Opening radio and TV frequencies so far strictly used by the state only for emerging private broadcasters.

As already mentioned, according to McQuail one of the influenc-ers of the media institutions is technology (2010). During the 90s, the impact of technology in Eastern Europe was related to the re-placement of Soviet broadcasting standards with western ones. All production, transmission and receiving equipment was replaced. Large investments were needed on both sides – on the side of media companies and on the side of audience. Print industry needed mod-ernization as well. Old Soviet technology was amortized and did not meet the needs of modern print industry.

Radio programmes could be listened to with old Soviet radios on UKV frequencies whereas FM frequencies could be heard only with technology compatible with western standards that could not be purchased in the Soviet Union. The use of UKV frequencies ended by the beginning of 1993 with the national frequency plan and the programmes using those frequencies were either shut down or trans-ferred to FM frequencies.

Though one can say the impact of technology was the same for all media companies, there was still a difference in the impact on audi-ences. It was easier for wealthier population groups to buy new radio and TV sets. People with lower incomes, especially among the Rus-sian-speaking population in the eastern part of Estonia, who could not afford new sets, continued to follow Russian radio stations and TV channels which broadcasted in the old standards. So it can be said that, at least for a certain time period, technology was an ad-


ditional producer of separation between the two language groups. Roots of this process are hidden in economy.

RUSSIAN-LANGUAGE PRESS MEDIA IN ESTONIA

After regaining independence, Estonian media became depend-ent on economic, social and political factors to a great extent. This concerned media in Estonian and Russian language as well. In the process of privatization two of the oldest newspapers, Estonija and Molodjozh Estonii, were involved. Until 1991, the papers were finan-cially and ideologically controlled by Soviet authorities.

The editorial staff of both newspapers created joint-stock companies; the majority of shares belonged to the editors who indeed became owners of these newspapers. However, step by step, journalists who were not able to invest lost their shares and further sales of newspa-pers to other owners took place without their participation (Inter-views with Ella Agranovskaja and Leivi Sher, 2013).

After a turbulent transition period, relative stability was achieved in the market of Russian-language press by the end of the 1990s. Jakob-son pointed out that new journalists, formats and contents of out-lets, (Russkii Telegraf, Russkii Potshtaljon, ME-Subbota, Stolitsa) etc. have appeared. Due to the economic crisis in the years 1998–2001, the audience’s purchasing power decreased and the main tasks of the Russian-language press were to survive, to preserve or find audience and finances (2004: 211). The local Russian language press market reached its peak in number of outlets by 2001 when there were 17 newspapers with a circulation of at least 1000 outlets each.

During this period, the first news portal Rus.delfi.ee (1999) in the Russian language emerged. Other news portals in the Russian lan-guage began to appear after 2005. Today Rus.delfi has 200 000 unique readers per week. The second most popular Internet-portal in the Russian language, Rus.postimees.ee, has ca 90 000 readers per week1.

The period between 2004–2007 in the Russian-language print and on-line markets, which ended with worldwide economic crisis, can be described in terms of concentration of capital. Huge media com-panies with foreign and Estonian capital – Bonnier Group, Schibsted Media Group, BMA Estonia, Ekspress Grupp – appeared in the Es-

1 Estonica.org – Современные русскоязычные СМИ Эстонии.

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tonian media market. All of these companies also launched Internet news portals on the basis of their newspapers.

The second economic crisis, in 2007–2011, had a drastic impact on the Russian language press landscape and its after-effects can be no-ticed through today. Both national and local outlets suffered severe fluctuation. Only four national newspapers survived.

The circulation of Molodjozh Estonii dropped from 90 000 in 1990 to 8000 by 2001 and to 5900 by the middle of 2008. Molodjozh Es-tonii was not an economically profitable project. It was financially supported by the Onistar company, which produces alcoholic bev-erages. Financial crisis in the company resulted in the bankruptcy of the newspaper.

Estonija (Vesti dnja since 2004) had a circulation of 76 000 in 1990 that dropped to 6400 by the end of 2003. After shifts in ownership in 2004, the paper changed its format and title (Vesti Dnja) and became the representative of the political interests of the Central party2.

Weekly Komsomolskaja Pravda v Estonii started and stopped appear-ing in 2010 and 2011 respectively.

Simultaneously with the extinction of national Russian-language press there has been an active appearance of on-line news portals, which actually replaced the function of Russian-language national dailies in Estonia. Several on-line outlets were created on the base of existing newspapers (Postimees na russkom jazyke, Den za Dn-jom, Delovyje Vedomosti, MK-Estonija, Stolitsa). The Public Service Broadcasting company launched the Internet-portal Rus.err.ee in May of 2007. Tallinn City Government launched their Internet-por-tal Stolitsa.ee (since 2008) in addition to the weekly Stolitsa.

In 2011, among national newspapers, there was one daily, Postimees na russkom jazyke (with circulation ca 11600), and two weeklies with general content, one business paper and one weekly which was deliv-ered in the Baltic countries (with circulation between 4 700 and 12 500 each)3. The circulation of all six local newspapers was between 1 000 and 40 000 each.

2 Estonica.org – Современные русскоязычные СМИ Эстонии.

3 http://www.eall.ee/tiraazhid/2011.html.


There is no national daily published in the Russian language nowa-days. Postimees na russkom jazyke has been issued only three times a week since June 2013. Anvar Samost, editor-in-chief, explained that with the shortage of advertisement market4.

CIRCULATION OF RUSSIAN-LANGUAGE OUTLETS 1998–2013

During the crisis between 1998–2001, two weeklies, in the begin-ning Vesti Nedelja Pljus and Den za Dnjom, reported growth of cir-culation, but the period ended with downturn. Circulation of dailies Molodjozh Estonii and Estonija was constantly dropping. Only Busi-ness Weekly demonstrated quite a stable position on the market, its circulation even grew between 1998 and 2001.

The years 2002–2005 were quite difficult for Russian-language press in Estonia. Circulations of weeklies Vesti Nedelja Pljus and Den za Dnjom were constantly decreasing. Finally Vesti Nedelja Pljus stopped appearing in 2004, Den za Dnjom – in 2005. Weekly (and brand) Den za Dnjom was saved by Schibsted which purchased this paper. In 2006, the weekly Den za Dnjom appeared again with a circulation of 17 000 copies. During this period, circulation of dailies Molodjozh Estonii and Vesti dnja increased, decreased and finally ended with bankruptcy in 2007.

In the years 2005–2006, two new newspapers were launched in the Russian language press market: weekly MK-Estonija and daily Pos-timees na russkom jazyke. They both started quite successfully, but then circulation began to drop. Most remarkable was the continued drop of circulation of Postimees na russkom jazyke while weekly MK-Estonija managed to increase its circulation in years 2009–2012.

Business weekly Delovyje Vedomosti has a relatively stable position. This can be explained by the fact this paper has a stable readership, whose income is quite high. However, its circulation has still de-creased in last two years.

A major trend is that circulations of all print-presses have been decreasing since 1998. Dailies are in the most vulnerable position whereas weeklies have a more preferable situation. It is obvious that production of dailies is not profitable, especially with the active ap-pearance of Internet-portals since 2003 (See Table 1).

4 http://rus.err.ee/culture/dcfcc2ad-cc0a-473d-86ec-a6e48558f3f7.

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1998 2000 2002 2004 2006 2008 2010 2012

Molodjoz Estonii 7.2 4.9 7.5 7.7

Estonia / Vesti Dnja 8.7 7.9 6.3 8.5 9.2

Vesti Nedelja Pljus 21.2 23.5 19.9 16.1

Den za Dnjom 16.7 19.4 18.6 14.5 17 13 13.2 10.4

Delovyje Vedomosti 4.8 4.8 5.1 5.3 6 5.8 4.8 7

Molodjoz Estonii Subbota 9.9 7.1 10.3 11.3 11.5

MK Estonii 14.3 11 11.1 12.9

Postimees na Russkom Jazyke 17.1 12.3 11.5 9.6

Tallinn’s local weekly newspaper Stolitsa, with the largest circulation of 40 000 outlets, is published by the Tallinn city government and de-livered for free via subscriptions and special newspaper-boxes in Tal-linn. This paper shares the political views of the Central Party which governs Tallinn and is oppositional on a parliamentary level. In re-cent times, it has became a considerable player in the Russian-lan-guage press market because of the shortage of Russian-language press and its free availability. Therefore one can notice that political and economic benefits of the newspaper and news portal Stolitsa are intertwined and serve the interests of Tallinn city government.

Table 1.

Circulation of Russian-

language outlets

1998–2013 (in thousands).

Source: www.eall.ee.

Figure 1.

The trends of the

development Russian-

language press and on-line

outlets market 1993–2011.


It is obvious the Russian-speaking population still prefers to con-sume information in Russian language and this trend will continue in the future. According to Integration Monitoring 2011 ca 50 per cent of Russian-speakers cannot follow media (print, online, radio and television) in Estonian because of insufficient knowledge of the language5.

LICENSING OF BROADCASTERS: FIRST RUSSIAN-LANGUAGE BROADCASTERS

Until the beginning of the 1990s, the main TV channels that broad-cast in the Estonian territory were Estonian Television (ETV) and three channels from Russia: Ostankino TV, Russia TV (both re-trans-mitted from Moscow) and Leningrad TV. The re-transmission of all Russian television and radio channels (Majak, Junost) was terminat-ed in 1993–1994. The frequencies and networks they had occupied were licensed to newly born Estonian private broadcasters.

For the Russian-speaking audience, the changes taking place at the beginning of the 1990s were dramatic; the number of programme hours offered through terrestrial broadcasting in Russian dropped substantially. No domestic national TV channel targeting speakers of Russian was established. The market demand for programmes in Russian was met by cable operators who rapidly expanded their networks and started to re-transmit Russian channels available on satellites.

The primary objective of the first Broadcasting Act (RHS, 1994) passed in Parliament in 1994 was to establish a dual media system; the co-existence of PSB and a commercial sector. The former State Radio and Television Committee was reorganised into two inde-pendent public service institutions: Estonian Radio and Estonian Television. Licenses for private broadcasters were issued through public tenders.

In order to ensure political consistency and awareness of the Estoni-an population, Director General of Estonian Radio Peeter Sookruus (1991: 19) envisioned Estonian Radio as a public service broadcast-er producing and broadcasting three programmes in Estonian and one in Russian. Such a vision was in accordance with the linguistic distribution of the population. The following period shows that this

5 http://www.kul.ee/webeditor/files/integratsioon/Int-mon_2011_pt_5.pdf.

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proportion – one of four – was achieved in public service radio in 1993 when, in addition to the three programmes in Estonian, a Rus-sian-language programme was launched.

1995 2013

Private radio channels in Estonian 41 21

Private radio channels in Russian 2 8

Public service radio programmes in Russian 3 4

Public service radio programmes in Estonian 1 1

Finding the appropriate balance between the state language and local Russian-speaking media space design has been one of the key media policy issues.

During the licensing process for new private broadcasting compa-nies in the early 1990s, media policy makers were particularly con-cerned with the protection of emerging markets from foreign capital, enrichment of Estonian culture and development of media space. In the context of this article we can point out two important general criteria in the terms of licenses issued. First, the requirement that in the broadcasting organization, Estonian capital must have at least 50 per cent of the votes, and secondly, the requirement that Estonian authors’ work share must be at least 35 per cent of the daily output of a radio program.

The first three radio licenses were granted by the Minister of Culture on 21 May 1992 to the newly created private companies (AS Trio and AS Rumor) and a municipality (Viljandi county administration’s office of culture). National Estonian Television and Radio received their broadcasting licenses three weeks later. The first private TV li-cense was issued to a local entrepreneur (AS Alo TV) on 8 June 1992.

From the total of 29 broadcasting licenses issued in 1992, there were nine for television and 20 for radio. The language requirement was not shown separately in any of them. Programmes in Russian were produced and aired by Estonian Television, Estonian Radio, by pri-vate AS Reklaamitelevisioon, Orsent TV and by one AS Trio radio

Table 2.

Number of radio channels in

Estonia. Source: Ministry of

Culture.


channel. The first three broadcasted some output in Russian within Estonian programmes. Orsent TV’s full offer was in Russian and was targeted at a Russian-speaking audience, but in total they broadcast-ed only around six hours weekly. In their license application to the Supreme Council of Information and Journalism Commission, Ors-ent described the aim of the channel as an endeavour to contribute to the integration of the local Russian minority into Estonian and global culture6. In the application submitted, Orsent declared they intended to produce and transmit broadcasts three hours a week in the Tallinn area only (the same frequency was also used by AS Reklaamitelevi-sioon for broadcasting their programme RTV). Orsent’s application was accepted and they were given permission to air programmes no less than three and not more than ten hours per week on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays after the end or before the start of RTV’s program. Although the channel had a small output of hours, and pro-grammes were aired on inconvenient time for viewers, Orsent must be counted as the first free-to-air television station broadcasting for a Russian language audience. Nowadays, Orsent has their own chan-nel and is transmitting considerably more programme hours which are viewable over cable networks. Unfortunately, Orsent’s audience figures were, and still are, very small, which again was a reason for low revenues and minimum profitability. The station never became an important platform and voice for the Russian-speaking audience.

AS Trio launched Raadio Tallinn as the first legal7 Russian-language private radio station in autumn 1992. The station started broadcast-ing at a UKV frequency and later transferred to FM.

In the spring of 1993, Estonian Radio launched Russian-language broadcasts on an FM frequency, which rapidly evolved into a full-time program, Raadio 4. The same year, 20 private broadcaster li-cences were issued (5 for TV and 15 for radio). Out of those, 2 were issued for broadcasting in Russian language. The national company Viru Information Centre was given permission to broadcast through a radio relay network and AS Trio to expand the coverage of Raadio Tallinn (later known under the names Raadio 100 FM/ Narodnoje Radio) to Eastern Virumaa. One local TV broadcaster – EMPI TV – was issued temporary licences for broadcasting in Kiviõli.

6 AS Orsent. Applica-tion letter. Ministry of Culture (March 9, 1992).

7 In the beginning of the 1990s, Sovi-et-minded Radio Nadezhda functioned on the territory of Soviet Army’s Keila Tank Regiment. This station had neither the permission to use ra-dio frequencies of the Estonian Republic nor broadcasting licence. Radio Nadezhda closed along with the departure of Soviet armed forces from Estonia in 1994.

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In the spring of 1994, AS Narva Televisioon and Sillamäe Munici-pal Information Centre obtained licences. The applications to launch both TV channels were also supported by local authorities. The po-litical motives were also important for these municipalities, at the same time being minimal or non-existent for the owners of Estoni-an-speaking broadcasting organisations. Ensuring ‘correct political undercurrent’ of broadcasting stations was a crucial issue for both legislative and executive powers. Free journalism was promoted for-cibly. However, when issuing broadcasting licences, ‘Russian danger’ or possible infiltration of Russian capital into Estonian media was closely guarded. At the same time, satisfying the needs and consid-ering the interests of the Russian-speaking audience was considered important.

With the passing of the Broadcasting Act in the summer of 1994, all current licences became invalid and 32 new five-year broadcast licenses were issued in tight competition. Estonian Radio and Esto-nian Television did not need to apply for broadcasting licences an-ymore, as they now functioned according to the rules set in Broad-casting Act. The already active Russian channels Narva Televisioon, Orsent TV and Raadio Tallinn were granted new licences. Similarly to Orsent, Narva TV was given broadcasting time only on certain days of the week before or after the programme of the main channel. They were given permission to broadcast 7.5 hours a week. By now, Sillamäe and Narva TV channels have stopped working.

1995 saw the continuation of expansion of private broadcasters. 19 new radio and 1 TV licences were issued. Only one of those – Narva Päikeseraadio, owned by Mediainvest AS – aimed to broadcasting Russian radio programs.

1996–1998 saw a decrease in the number of broadcasting licences issued due to the shortage of free frequencies. A total of 13 licences were issued in three years. Among those was Taevaraadio AS-owned Raadio Sky Klassik, originally intended to broadcast classical music, that was renamed Russkoje Radio in 1998 and started Russian broad-casts. Under new conditions, original Russian programme produced or acquired for this station had to be aired during daytime (between 7:00 and 20:00). The majority of the programme was to be Russian music; at least 15 per cent of the day’s programme had to be speech.


In 2000, the conditions of this broadcast licence were mitigated and the requirements for speech and Russian music broadcasts were dropped.

Eesti Sõltumatu Televisioon AS started with TV1 programmes in 1997. The broadcast licence issued to TV1 stated that the programme had to include at least 30 minutes of news in Russian every day. TV1 did not do that. There were only 5 minutes of news in Russian per day and these were broadcast at 23:30 or later. The Ministry of Culture gave two warnings to TV1 for the violation of their licence. Despite promises (TV1 letter to Ministry of Culture 14 Sept 1998) TV1 did not manage to produce and broadcast Russian language programmes in bigger amounts before their bankruptcy.

In the 1990s and even during some years after the millennium, other Estonian commercial channels had a business-driven aim to max-imize their audience by offering Russian-language programmes on certain time slots. This kind of limited offer was unsuccessful in commercial terms and audiences were attracted by channels of the Russian Federation.

In 1999–2002, most of the valid five-year broadcast licences were renewed. No terrestrial TV channels were created. There were 12 cable TV licences issued in 2001, out of which five belonged to the operator AS STV and targeted Russian audience. Also AS Nom’s pro-gramme Infokanal was aimed at Russian viewers.

In the field of radio, there were 24 newcomers, most of them either replacing closed down programmes or reflecting a change and con-solidation of owners. Local studios were shut down and instead of their own programmes, centrally produced programmes were aired over the networks. The roots of this process were in affordability – in smaller regions there was not sufficient (advertising) money and hu-man resources to produce and air so many local programs. The Tartu Pereraadio Ühing-owned Christian radio station operating under international broadcasting licence Semeinoje Radio (later Radio Eli) and AS Trio LSL-s Russian music Radio Katjusha started Russian broadcasts in 2000.

In 2004, the list of Russian radio stations was lengthened with Russ-koje Radio Tartu, Euro FM, Raadio DFM and AS Trio LSL’s Raadio

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Uuno Pluss Dynamit FM. The licence conditions for most Rus-sian-speaking radio stations were even more laconic than before, usually including the requirement to broadcast local news (that can be produced in cooperation with several broadcasters), cover local life and contain a 20 per cent ratio of Estonian authors in their daily programme.

During 2004–2008 there were just few new TV licenses given. All of them were local. OÜ Lites LT started the programme LiTeS in East-ern Virumaa in 2004, MTÜ AB Video started the programme TV-N in the cable network of Harjumaa and Tallinn in the end of 2006 (nowadays it is available all over Estonia). And in 2008, SA Lasteka-itsefond’s programme LNTV was launched, which showed mostly cartoons over a couple of years’ existence.

The spread of Russian-speaking radio and TV programmes follows the location of Russian-speaking communities – most broadcasters are active in Tallinn, Eastern Virumaa and Tartu. The content regula-tion of all media service providers is minimal according to Estonia’s liberal media policy. This and the smallness of the advertising market have resulted in the cluster of music radio channels mostly playing mainstream music and TV channels mostly showing feature films.

Out of 29 radio licences, 8 were given to broadcast Russian-language programmes, while Raadio 4 functions under the National Public Broadcasting Act. Thus it can be said that by 2013, the radio land-scape in Estonia reflects the ratio of 3:1, the linguistic distribution of population as drafted in the 1990s, where there are three Estonian radio programmes to one Russian one.

There are 14 valid TV licences in Estonia as of 1 July 2013. Three of those – Orsent-TV, TV-N ja LiTeS – are targeted to Russian-speak-ing audience. With the widespread use of cable networks and IPTV in the living areas of the Russian-speaking population these pro-grammes are now easily accessible. At the same time, they are not as popular as Russian TV programmes (see thereinafter). It is note-worthy that there are a number of foreign thematic TV channels in Russian available in cable packages. In total, these ‘other’ channels reached 87 per cent of Russian speakers weekly and took up 39 per cent of their viewing time in 2012 (see Figure 2).


The most popular TV station among Russian speakers is Pervõi Balti-iski Kanal (First Baltic Channel, PBK), which is owned and operated by a Latvian independent legal entity working under two jurisdic-tions, a broadcasting license issued by LNRT Latvia and by OfCom U.K. The PBK programme is available in all Baltic countries on all technical platforms: satellite, cable, IPTV and DTT pay TV packages. It primarily re-transmits the Russian commercial TV channel ORT (controlled by the Russian government), but also includes a daily newscast produced locally in each country in the format of ORT’s main news programme (Vremja), which is scheduled immediately after the latter on prime-time.

Based on these facts it can be said that a big part of Russian-language Estonian population is mainly following Russian television channels and is therefore more integrated into the Russian information field than into the Estonian one.

ECONOMICS – FINANCIAL RESULTS OF MEDIA: MINORITY LANGUAGE AUDIENCE AS A MARKET FAILURE

The third influencer of the media institutions is economics (Mc-Quail, 2010). A significant difference in the development of Estonian and Russian-language private media is the inclusion of private cap-ital. Estonian media enterprises developed mostly with the help of western investments – Nordic media companies generally became the owners of these enterprises. Norwegian Schibsted AS purchased the most widespread national newspaper Postimees, several county newspapers, TV channel Kanal 2, a printing house and later shares in

Figure 2.

An evaluation Russian-speakers’ share of viewing of the main Russian language TV channels. Source: TNS Emor.

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the Trio radio group. Finnish Mainos TV invested in AS Reklaamitel-evisioon that later merged with EVTV to form TV 3, part of Swedish Modern Time Group. MTG also founded two radio stations. Bonnier Group acquired shares in newspapers Eesti Ekspress and Äripäev. The main goal of all these foreign companies that invested in Estoni-an media sector was to gain profit in a newly opened market.

Contrary to the Estonian market, no foreign investments came to Russian-language media. Media channels were owned or created by local non-Estonian entrepreneurs. Unfortunately, they did not have sufficient resources to create good quality, audience-capturing media products. There was a lack of critical mass – of quantity, quality, and audience. Considering the smallness of the potential market, foreign capital did not have any interest in contributing to this narrow sector. Taking into account Russia’s close foreign countries policy, Russian money could have come to the Estonian media sector with political aims. This however did not happen, at least not in the extent to start and keep up a local Russian-language TV programme, newspaper and/or radio station. Probably such investment was not considered important as Russian-speaking people living in Estonia followed Russia’s main TV channels anyway. Attempts to involve foreign capi-tal from either East or West were not successful.

The profit and outcome of Russian-language media companies pro-vide a good description of the shortage of resources. Analysis of Russian-language print media indicates that because of unprofitable business, the newspapers often went bankrupt or changed owners frequently. In several cases the official financial results were not de-clared. As an example, the financial standing of the newspaper Den za Dnjom by the owners in 2001–2008 can be considered. There is no data regarding the financial status of the company in official da-tabases before that time and data from the years 2004, 2005, 2007 and 2008 is missing. In 2008, the publisher of the newspaper was purchased by AS Postimees. In 2012, the publisher was merged with Postimees and the financial results of the newspaper are no longer available separately (see Figure 3).


In comparison with the financial results of the two biggest private TV channels (see Figure 4) the turnover of Russian-language broad-casters follows a similar pattern (see Figure 5). There is nevertheless a difference in the profitability of the channels. As the main source of income for major TV channels is advertising sales, the econom-ic crises atn the end of the 1990s and beginning of 2008 influenced their income far more than that of small companies functioning on project support.

While the financial results of Estonian-language media companies can usually be found in official databases from the mid-90s to the present, the same information regarding Russian-language publica-

Figure 3.

Profit and loss of newspaper Den za Dnjom publishers. Source: e-Business register.

Figure 4.

Financial results of TV3 and Kanal2. Source: e-Business Register.

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tions is incomplete in the national register. Despite that a general trend in Russian-language printed media can be pointed out – this is the decrease in income.

Comparison of financial results of the two biggest newspaper pub-lishers (see Figure 6) and Russian-language newspaper publisher (see Figure 3) in Estonia indicates a magnitudinal difference. The same difference occurs when financial parameters of Estonian commercial TV channels (see Figure 4) are compared with the Russian languages’ TV ones (see Figure 5).

Figure 5.

Financial results of Russian languages

TV-channels. Source:

E-Business Register.

Figure 6.

Financial characteristics

of media companies Eesti

ajalehed (EA) and Postimees.

Source: E-Business

Register.


Differently from the Russian languages print media there has been no change of ownership or bankruptcy of Russian-language TV channels but it must be pointed out that there is still no domestic TV channel producing and broadcasting nationwide full-time free-to-air Russian-language programme in Estonia.

The private sectors’ unwillingness to work for these niche audiences is understandable from a business point of view. Investments into expensive niche media products are not profitable. A potential audi-ence of around 300 000 Russian-speaking viewers is not big enough for the launch of a commercial TV channel, especially in the situa-tion where there are plenty of attractive foreign Russian TV channels available through cable networks and satellite platforms. A cheaper form of mass media – newspapers – is facing problems to gain enough readers needed for sustainable business. Economic regression which started in 2007 has heavily decreased advertising revenues. Tradi-tional newspapers lost more than 60 per cent of their yearly advertis-ing revenues (see Figure 7). While major media companies had some internal resources which helped them to survive under extensive cost cuttings, smaller companies were forced to close down their activi-ties. Private media companies with Russian-language media prod-ucts belong to the latter group. Russian-language media’s already un-favourable economical situation deteriorated dramatically.

Figure 7.

Estonian advertising market value. Source: TNS Emor.

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ROLE OF PUBLIC SERVICE BROADCASTING

When all circumstances (resources available, market conditions, economical atmosphere, etc.) are not favouring commercial media then this kind of market failure should be balanced by public service media (PSM). Therefore PSM is even more responsible for delivering diverse content and high-quality information for all citizens, includ-ing minorities, on a smaller market. Despite fast and large changes in the media, public service media still has an important role to play in the public sphere from this point of view.

This argument is supported by the broader definition of public ser-vice broadcasting (evolving into public service media). Public service broadcasting (PSB) is defined by McQuail (2010: 569) ‘as the system of broadcasting that is publicly funded and operated in a non-profit way in order to meet the various public communication needs of all citizens’.

In other words – PSB’s ultimate function is to serve public interest. In normative criteria this is described as enhancing, developing and serving social, political and cultural citizenship; being universal with high quality standards (Born and Prosser, 2001: 671).

The justification for PSB existence is to serve public interest. Accord-ing to McQuail (2010: 568), public interest ‘expresses the idea that expectations from, and claims against, the mass media on grounds of the wider and longer-term good of society can be legitimately ex-pressed and may lead to constraints on the structure or activity of media’. Critics of PSB declare that public interests are also served by commercial broadcasters and PSB rationale no longer exists (Jacka, 2003). On the other side, scholars are convinced that PSB is needed more than ever in new, rapidly changing, communication contexts (Murdock, 2005). It might be a case that commercial broadcasters are fulfilling some public interest tasks, but mainly only these, which are commercially profitable, unprofitable services are (most likely) left out of scope. Jakubowicz (2007c) argues that the underlying aims of public service broadcasting are still to enhance culture, promote education, maintain social cohesion and strengthen democracy. For successful fulfilment of these four criteria, PSB needs to have suffi-cient resources (human, financial, technical etc.) and favourable leg-islative framework.


Researches made by Lauristin (2004; 2009), Lauk (2008), Lõhmus et al. (2010) underline the special role public service broadcasting carries for small countries like Estonia. It is especially important, in markets where private broadcasting is commercialized, that PSB maintains its role as the reliable provider of trustful sources of in-formation. PSB’s important role in the public sphere to substantiate, support for democratic development and pluralism are described as crucial ones. All these factors have direct influence on society and citizens. Enhancing democracy and cultural heritage, improving social cohesion, developing platform for open debate, guaranteeing media pluralism, being a source of reliable and independent infor-mation – these are important functions of PSB. Without fulfilment of these functions, overall development of democratic society is under serious threat.

EUROPEAN UNION MEDIA POLICY IMPACT ON PUBLIC SER-VICE MEDIA

On the EU level there are no tools or mechanisms dictating a mini-mum PSB quantity or quality level a Member State should guarantee for citizens. There is no binding legal EU regulation towards PSB. There are no European Union’s financial instruments, for example solidarity funds for infrastructure development, dedicated for the enhancement of public service media. Decisions on remit, funding model and funding level of PSB are totally left to Member States. There is no common PSB model or standard which applies to all countries (European Commission, 2011). Governance and financing models, remit, legal framework and relations with political powers, accountability obligations towards society, etc. vary a lot. But overall, EU media policy is subordinate to economic policy and the public service media is treated in a similar manner to any other industry (Harcourt, 2005; Jõesaar, 2011). In a similar way to other industries’ regulations, media regulations are shaped by market forces in a large extent. The result of a liberal regulatory process is that media will be more and more commercialized. As shown by Lowe et al. (2011) and Jõesaar (2011), in the poorer, smaller states commercial media tends to be more entertainment oriented than in smaller, wealthy states.

To balance entertainment biased commercial media, PSB should have strong and interesting own-production, which is more costly

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than mass production acquisition programs. This results in the con-clusion that for strong PSB, the PSB funding on small markets should be on a relatively higher level than on large markets. In reality the situation is opposite. The level of available funding is (an immediate) cause for PSB performance. It gives reason to assume that sufficient funding will support high quality production which is needed to at-tract an audience. In the case of Estonia, there actually exists two main audiences – national language speakers and Russian speakers. This means that for serving both communities in the best way, a dou-ble amount of funding is actually needed. It is evident that private media is not able to serve Russian-language citizens on a proper lev-el. There is no nationwide daily newspaper nor full-scale TV-channel in Russian; Russian language music radio stations are oriented on en-tertainment of young audiences; newspapers in Russian have a very moderate penetration.

In the case of Estonian Public Broadcasting (ERR), the question of serving minorities has been debated for a long time (Jõesaar and Ran-nu, 2013). The idea to increase ERR output in Russian on all media platforms, especially in television, has not received political support and because of that is heavily under-financed. Therefore television programmes offered in Russian still do not have the critical mass to attract its target audience in a large scale. Only the Estonian Public Broadcaster’s nationwide radio programme in Russian, Raadio 4, is offering quality journalistic content for a Russian-speaking audience.

The next part of this article focuses on Russian language TV-pro-gramme of Estonian Public Broadcasting.

PSB’S TRADITION OF RUSSIAN LANGUAGE PROGRAMMING

The next section of the article will focus on PSB programming for mi-norities. Soviet-era ETV produced news and primarily cultural and educational programmes in Russian during the 1960s and 1970s. In the mid-1970s, the offer of pan-Union Russian programmes intensi-fied. In the context of the USSR, local Russian language programmes were never treated as those targeted to a minority, because the speak-ers of the non-native language among the population of a republic of the Union were never considered as minorities. Programmes in Russian, broadcast by the TV stations of the republics, expressed one of the Russification methods used by the USSR; the production of


these programmes was not driven by the modern idea of complying with the informational needs of a minority. In Estonia, where only one local TV station existed, a third of its schedule was filled with the Central Television programmes of the Soviet Union. The content scope of local programmes in Russian developed only partially. From 1980 to 1991, ETV aired only approximately an hour of domestic programmes in Russian (including news) daily (Shein, 2005). Few television journalists spoke Russian as their mother tongue, and the content they produced was limited, mainly cultural, music and edu-cational programmes; analytical journalism was almost non-exist-ent. Even the topic of ethnic minorities was subsequently raised by Estonian-speaking journalists, after the founding of The Union of Estonia’s Nationalities in 1988.

From 1990, with the exception of news, the Russian ETV programmes were aired on Saturday daytime and the content scope extended from information to entertainment. The volume of programmes was fewer than 200 hours per year. Due to the lack of viewers, attempts were made to find a better timeslot, and in the middle of the 1990s, a programme strip in Russian was created to air before the pre-prime news in Russian on work days.

In the early 1990s, Russian language TV journalism existed only in ETV. Independent producers had not yet appeared and when they did, around the end of the decade, the majority were individual pro-ducers fully dependent on their financiers. Commercial stations did not pay to show programmes in Russian, instead, barter deals were offered: the producers could sell advertisement time inside their pro-grammes. The budget of PSB television was also highly dependent on advertisements, so, as the volume of other productions grew, the programmes in Russian were pushed into the background, as some-thing unattractive to advertising agencies.

Although some good publicists emerged among the Russian-speak-ing television journalists, they probably felt the air of suspicion of disloyalty, and therefore tried to choose topics as neutral as possible, which, in return, did not help to increase the interest of viewers. The integration programme, launched in the second half of the 1990s and funded by the EU, produced a shift in the content focus, which moved to integration-related topics (Lauristin, 2004).

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Notwithstanding the incompleteness of the statistics covering the end of the 1990s, we can estimate the volume of Russian language programming rose above 200 hours in 1998-1999, when over 10 dif-ferent series’ were aired on ETV (Trapido, 2000: 112; Shein, 2005). Unfortunately, this was the time of the economic downturn, and the attempt by the management to increase its own production’s output, in circumstances whereby the state grant had been cut back by 10 per cent, caused a serious budgetary crisis. At the beginning of the 2000s, the crisis led to a recession in all activities, including the pro-duction of Russian programming on ETV. By April 2000, the budget for Russian programmes had decreased five times since 1998, and enabled the production of just one half-hour programme per week (PRTM, 2000).

After the crisis, it was primarily the production of the news that con-tinued to be financed from ETV’s budget of the original Russian pro-grammes. The remainder of the in-house productions received fund-ing from the Integration Foundation or from other public funds. Part of the schedule was acquired from Russia, and re-runs of some Es-tonian programmes with Russian subtitles were also scheduled for Russian timeslots.

A budgetary crisis in ETV in 2000–2002 resulted in cut-backs in several programming sectors and produced changes in management logistics. The Russian-language programme unit was closed. The production of Russian programmes was initiated on the orders of ETV’s programme management, mainly in the form of co-produc-tions between independent producers and ETV employees; several former employees of ETV now work as independent producers, ac-quiring the necessary additional financing from public funds.

However, a specific centre of competence, which should work on developing a cohesive concept of television programmes aimed to-wards non-Estonians and executing related ideas, does not currently exist in Estonia. This fact has also been pointed out in the debates discussing the launch of a television channel in Russian (Ajutrust Konsultatsioonid, 2007).


TODAY’S CHALLENGES FOR PUBLIC SERVICE MEDIA

Public service Raadio 4, once the indisputable leader among Rus-sian-language radio stations, is still a leader, but the listening trend is clearly negative (see Figure 8). Commercial music radio stations are gaining market share. It will be challenging for PSM to retain its position in the Russian language radio market.

Estonian Television’s position among the Russian-speaking audience is even more complicated. The launch of the PSB Russian language channel, ETV2, has been debated for almost two decades. It has been mentioned in parliamentary debates and has been part of a number of PSB’s development plans. A short list of arguments supporting and opposing ETV2 in Russian is as follows:

FOR: The channel will support the enhancement, develop-ment and servicing of social, political and cultural citizen-ship; it will offer adequate and reliable information to all cit-izens and inhabitants; it will extenuate tensions between two ethnic groups; it will serve as a balancing force to Moscow, lowering national security risks.

AGAINST: To attract a Russian audience (extra) high qual-ity programmes are needed; It is too expensive; sufficient additional financial resources are unavailable; whatever the programme, it is unrealistic to expect it will attract the atten-

Figure 8.

Russian language radio stations share of listening. Source: TNS Emor.

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tion of the Russian audience due to high competition from abroad; there is no need for such a channel — in the long run, all citizens will understand Estonian and will there-fore be capable of watching Estonian programmes; if state financed propaganda is required, these programmes should be ordered from, and aired on, PBK.

In 2008, another economic downturn forced ETV to make budgetary cut-backs and the volume of Russian language programmes dropped to a level last experienced in the middle of the previous decade (see Figure 9). Only one series was produced for the Russian audience, which also received funding from external sources. Despite the lack of funding, ETV2 started broadcasting in the summer of 2008 and continues to be on air. However, the original concept of this new channel, broadcasting in Russian at least on prime-time, was revised. Today, the main scope of the channel is cultural and educational pro-grammes and this task is primarily fulfilled by using ETV’s archives. As no extra financial resources are allocated from the state budget, new in-house production is minimal, primarily consisting of original children’s programmes, which also have an important role in ETV2.

Notwithstanding, the launch of ETV2 opened up new possibilities and, from 2009 onwards, the volume of Russian language program-ming has significantly increased, although the major part of in-house productions (with the exception of the news) was still financed from external sources. Furthermore, re-runs from the ETV archives and Estonian language current affairs programmes with Russian subtitles

Figure 9.

ETV’s yearly total programme

hours targeted at the Russian-

speaking audience.

1994–1996; 2001–2010.

Source: Authors’ calculation.


increased the output. The result is that a prime-time slot, including news and some information and discussion programmes scheduled for Russian speakers, today exists on ETV2. The decline in 2012 was caused by the cut in the production of original programming in Rus-sian (see Figure 9). In 2012, ETV’s channels occupied only 1.8 per cent of the viewing time of non-Estonians (TNS Emor).

Particularly, a remarkable increase in output of Russian language news occurred after the news was transferred to ETV2, where a longer timeslot was available. Unfortunately, the shift to ETV2 meant that the Russian-language news lost some of its viewers. Since 2010, the news is repeated on MTG channel 3+, but the audience remains quite small.

Despite all these ERR efforts, it is not efficient enough to attract the Russian-speaking audience and integrate them into the Estonian in-formation field.

DISCUSSION

After the regaining of Estonian independence, the following pre-sumptions were applied to establishing Estonian media system polit-ically, economically and technically regarding the Russian-language population:

1. Domestic Russian-language media does not need nation-al support because the Russian population will decrease be-cause of emigration and those remaining will acquire suffi-cient language skills to be able to follow Estonian media to satisfy their information needs.

2. Free market principles in media will provide a solution for the issues of informing and integrating language minorities without specific state-initiated regulations.

These presumptions proved only partially right in reality. The Rus-sian-speaking population is decreasing and their Estonian language skills are improving but only 14 per cent of them prefer Estonian me-dia. Domestic Russian-language media is preferred by 21 per cent of non-Estonians. 2/3 of Russians consider the media channels, mainly television, of the Russian Federation more important for themselves (Vihalemm, 2011). The end of transmitting Russia’s TV channels in

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the beginning of 1990s brought along an explosive spread of cable TV in Russian-speaking residential areas in Estonia, thus transferring viewers to Russian-language satellite channels within a few years. In the market economy situation, Russian-language printed media has undergone a severe decline, resulting in the cessation of publishing national daily newspapers. Weeklies and local newspapers have fared slightly better. Private enterprise has shown considerable ability in developing radio and Internet media; private TV channels, howev-er, have desisted from engaging a Russian-speaking audience after short-timed attempts. Public broadcasters have been relatively suc-cessful in developing Russian-language radio, while TV programmes are confined to broadcasting Russian-language news and translating Estonian programmes into Russian because of lack of resources.

In broadcasting, this has resulted in a situation where two commu-nities are influenced by different independent information fields; Estonian-speakers (mainly) receive daily information from national broadcasting channels, while Russian-speakers receive such infor-mation from Russian Federation TV stations and global TV chan-nels. This could be acknowledged, if the Russian population’s strong beliefs towards foreign television channels did not constantly raise problems with regard to their participation in Estonia’s everyday life and the degree to which they are informed about this. It has been hoped that one solution could be the target ordering of specific Rus-sian television series’ on themes of integration, but their audience is more Estonian- than Russian-speaking. The reasons for this lie in the contents of the broadcasts, as well as in the environment. Media research has claimed that the Russian-speaking audience views itself more like integration objects than subjects in these shows. This is not useful, as it decreases the attractiveness of the programmes. As a rule, these programmes are aired on Estonian-language ETV channels in flexible volumes and slots. Therefore, the Russian-speaking audience has not developed a viewing habit. No agreement has been reached on the strategies or funding of the development of Russian language television programming. Therefore, there is no reason to believe that anything will change in the (near) future, unless there is a substantial increase in the Russian programme funding that is required for the production of high quality programming on a considerably larger scale.


CONCLUSIONS

When observing the development of Russian-language media in Es-tonia after the country regained its independence, its political, eco-nomic and technological influencers, it can be seen how a market failure occurs in an important sector of everyday life of a small coun-try, resulting in linguistically different population groups ending at different information fields. These information fields are separated not only by linguistic but also notional national borders.

It must be admitted that such division has its roots in the Soviet era when non-native populations, settling in USSR’s republics, con-sumed mostly pan-Soviet media – newspapers, magazines, TV and radio that were ideologically and economically strictly controlled by the central power. Establishment of liberal media principles in re-in-dependent Estonia ended undemocratic supervision and gave media independence. One of the prerequisites to this was economic inde-pendence that subjected to free market principles only. However, to Russian-language media in Estonia, free market proved disadvanta-geous. While Estonian media companies soon found investors from the Nordic countries, Russian-language enterprises had to rely on domestic resources only which turned out to be scarce. The number of readers decreased rapidly and in 2013 no Russian-language daily newspaper was published in Estonia. The weeklies have done slightly better. The newspaper with the widest circulation is a city newspaper reflecting the political interests of the capital’s city government.

Domestic Russian-language broadcasting in Soviet Estonia limited itself to some educational and cultural programmes as the only na-tional TV channel, while the choice of programming at pan-Sovi-et TV channels was abundant. A number of Russian-language TV channels were created after the end of re-broadcast of Soviet TV programmes with the hopes of making a profit from the advertis-ing market. Unfortunately, broadcasting such channels was limit-ed. Therefore the amount of viewers was not considerable enough to rouse the interest of advertisers. In addition, satellite TV offered fierce competition, making Russia’s TV channels accessible to the Russian-speaking audience in Estonia. This however did not fulfil the duties of a democratic media system. Information and debate on the development and functioning of Estonia’s society could only

148



come from domestic media, mainly from Estonian Radio and Es-tonian Television that were being transformed into public service broadcasting organisations.

Estonian Radio was successful at launching a Russian-language radio program. Estonian Television had one Estonian-language channel only, where the Russian-language slots did not find viewers, and the political agreement to launch the second channel was not reached. At present, the amount of time spent on watching any Estonian-lan-guage TV channel, including commercial channels, is decreasing to a marginal level among the Russian-speaking audience. From the viewpoint of Estonia’s social and cultural coherence, this is a negative trend but altering an established framework presupposes a clearly stated political program.

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GUIDELINES FOR AUTHORS

Media Transformations (ISSN 2029-865X) is a peer-reviewed acade-mic journal of media and journalism studies, particularly focusing on the comparative aspects of media transformations. We invite papers addressing a wide range of topics around the global and local transfor-mations of media and journalism, including technological diffusion and convergence of media industries, commercialization and homoge-nization of journalism, changing media values and policies, journalism training and media education. Contributions which address the above mentioned topics from the conceptual, empirical and methodological point of view are welcome.

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Manuscripts should include the following:

Name, position, degree, institution and e-mail address of the author(s) (on a separate sheet) Title of the article Abstract in English of no longer than 250 words Keywords including no more than 6 words Body text of the article should not exceed 50.000 characters 8000 words References should be listed alphabetically in the following standard form Acknowledgements may include information about financial support and other assistance in preparing the manuscript (indicate them at the end of the manuscript).

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REFERENCES, NOTES, AND CITATIONS

The basic reference format is (McNair, 2002). To cite a specific page or part – use (McNair, 2012: 125). Use “et al.” when citing a work by more than three authors. The letters a, b, c, etc. should be used to dis-tinguish different citations by the same author in the same year. Use “n.d.” if the publication date is not available. When you include more then one reference use a “semicolon” to separate references (Castells, 2009; McNair, 2002). All references cited in the text should be listed alphabetically and in full after the text.

For books:

Hallin, D., and Mancini, P. (2004). Comparing Media Systems: Three Models of Media and Politics. Cambridge, New York: Cambridge Uni-versity Press.

For articles:

Eide, M. (2007). Encircling the Power of Journalism. Nordicom Re-view, Vol. 28, 21-29.

In the bibliography of scholarly articles submitted by the author, one should indicate DOI numbers of all cited sources if they are attributed to them. When a concrete DOI number is given to an article, the refe-rence should look like this:

158

Curran, J., Iyengar, S., Lund, A., and Salovaara-Moring, I. (2009). Me-dia System, Public Knowledge and Democracy: A Comparative Study. European Journal of Communication, Vol. 24(1), 5-26. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/0267323108098943.

For book chapters:

Holtz-Bacha, C. (2004). Political Communication Research Abroad: Europe. In L. L. Kaid (ed.), Handbook of Political Communication Re-search. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, pp. 463-477.

For online publications:

Hume, E. (2007). University Journalism Education: A Global Challenge. A Report to the Center for International Media Assistance. Retrieved September 10, 2010, from http://www.ellenhume.com/articles/edu-cation.pdf.

REVIEW PROCEDURE

All unsolicited articles undergo double-blind peer review. In most cases, manuscripts are reviewed by two referees. The editor reserves the right to reject any unsuitable manuscript without requesting an external review.


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