Interview
with Mr. Chamorro (from the Langara Journalism
Review, 1999)
The
website for Confidencial,
Mr. Chamorro' weekly newsmagazine (in Spanish)
Journalist
Fights for Press Freedom in Central America
Claudine
LoMonaco, Graduate School of Journalism
As
a young man in the 1970's, Carlos Chamorro did not
set out to be a journalist. He wanted to be an economist,
something out from under the looming shadow of his
father, Pedro Joaquin Chamorro, acclaimed editor of
the Nicaraguan newspaper La Prensa. One of the
few independent papers in Central America, La Prensa openly
criticized the brutal Samoza dictatorship that had
ruled the country for nearly 50 years.
But
in 1978, the Nicaraguan National Guard gunned down
Chamorro's father. The assassination changed the course
of Nicaragua history by strengthening popular opposition
to the dictatorship.
It
also changed the course Chamorro's life.
He
went to work for La Prensa soon after his father's
death.
"I
came to journalism under tragic circumstances," Chamorro
said, adding that his motivations were more political
than journalistic. "I got involved because I thought
I could help push the country in the direction I thought
was necessary."
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Carlos
Chamorro
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At
the same time, he joined the Frente Sandinista,
the guerrilla army that eventually brought down the
Samoza regime. "I led a double life as a journalist
and a semi-clandestine militant," he said at the presentation
of his most recent documentary film on May 8 in an
event co-sponsored by the Center for Latin American
Studies and the UCB Graduate School of Journalism. "When
the Revolution triumphed, I stayed in journalism."
In
1980, he became editor-in-chief of the Sandinista newspaper La
Barricada, where he stayed until being controversially
ousted in 1994.
After
nearly a quarter of a century of work, Chamorro, like
his father before him, is one of the most respected
journalists in Central America. He is currently editor
of Confidencial, a Nicaraguan weekly, and is
the host and director of Esta Semana, a Sunday
night television news magazine.
His
latest project has been the film Power and Media
in Central America, which is the third in a series
that explores the history of the media in Latin America,
and is funded by The Freedom Forum. (The first two
documentaries focused on Mexico and Peru.) The film
documents both the role the media played and the radical
transformations it underwent during the last three
decades in Central America, a period rocked by military
dictatorships, civil wars, U.S. intervention, and the
tumultuous transition towards democracy.
The
film consists of a series of interviews with prominent
Central American journalists, including Chamorro's
own mother Violetta, the former Nicaraguan president
and publisher of La Prensa in its right wing,
post-revolutionary incarnation. While
the film covers all of Central America, it focuses
on Nicaragua, Guatemala, and El Salvador.
The
opening sequence shows the grisly assassination of
Chamorro's father on a street in Managua. It goes on
to tell the harrowing story of how the press survived
both censorship and physical repression during the
military regimes of the 1970's and 1980's, but not
without sacrifice. Government forces bombed radio stations,
destroyed press offices, and kidnapped, persecuted
and assassinated journalists. In El Salvador, 30 were
killed, in Guatemala, 60.
The
film also examines the Central American transition
to democracy during the 1990's. Far from merely documenting
the transition, it shows how the media actively participated
in it. In El Salvador, for example, the clandestine Radio
Venceremos presented the viewpoint of the guerrilla
and helped established the FMLN as a legitimate political
player that had to be taken into account. No longer
could the rebel fighters be discounted as, in the words
of the official press, "squadrons of murderous terrorists." Radio
Venceremos later paved the way for peace talks
that would end the civil war.
The
1990's also saw the media move away from being organs
of political parties and towards more pluralistic,
critical forums for news and analysis. No one story
highlights this transition more than that of the Sandinista
paper La Barricada.
During
the Contra war, "newspapers turned into battlegrounds," said
Chamorro. "They were instruments of war for one side
or another." That meant that La Barricada often
hid or downplayed news that was critical of the Sandinista
government.
In
1991, after the Sandinistas lost the presidency to
the conservative National Opposition Union Party (UNO),
Chamorro convinced Sandinista leader Daniel Ortega
that in order to survive, the paper needed to distance
itself from party. "Journalism had to be committed
first to the public and the truth and not with our
ideological cause," Chamorro explained.
The
paper continued with a Sandinista perspective, but
from a more critical vantage point, and grew in public
acclaim. By 1994, however, Sandinista leadership clamped
down on the experiment.
"They
didn't want us to publish news that affected the party," he
said. "The argument was that you had to behave like
the right-wing papers that treated us like enemies."
The
party fired Chamorro. In protest, the remaining reporters
went on strike. Three weeks later, 90 percent of them
were fired or forced to resign. The paper returned
to highly partisan journalism and within four years
went out of business.
The
documentary ends by looking at the economic and legal
challenges facing Central American journalists today.
They have no equivalent of the Freedom of Information
Act, a crucial tool in investigating government corruption.
Furthermore, they have little legal protections against
being sued for libel. A recent one million dollar settlement
handed down against a political cartoonist in Panama
has had chilling effect other journalists.
Economically,
media monopolies, such as in Guatemala, where the same
individual owns all fours TV channels, threaten plurality.
Moreover,
governments are still major advertisers and withhold
those dollars as punishment for critical news reports.
It is a pressure Chamorro has experienced first hand.
In spite of having the top ranked Sunday night TV show
in Nicaragua, the government refuses to advertise with
him.
Similarly,
media outlets censor themselves for fear of antagonizing
leading private sector advertisers. When the government
gave Pellas, the largest business group in Nicaragua
and a major advertiser, an illegal $3 million dollar
tax break, Chamorro's weekly Confidencial was
the only news outlet to cover it.