Attitudes of Journalists Regarding
Self-Regulation of Media in
Post-Conflict Rwanda
A Silencing grey zone
Anne ter Rele, Master Thesis
Conflict Resolution and Governance
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A Silencing Grey Zone:
Attitudes of Journalists Regarding Self-Regulation of Media in
Post-Conflict Rwanda
Master Thesis
Author: Anne ter Rele Student number: 10784594
Course: Conflict Resolution and Governance, research project Supervisor: Martijn Dekker
Second reader: Peter Verlinden Word Count: 25233
Date: 28 June 2019
Photo front page: People enter the stadium to attend a commemoration event for those who were killed in the 1994 genocide at Amahoro stadium in the capital Kigali, Rwanda, 07 April
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Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I want to thank my supervisor Martijn Dekker, for his critical thinking, necessary optimism and dedication to help me improve this thesis. Also, I would like to thank Peter Verlinden, for providing crucial guidance throughout the process and for being my second reader. Thanks to Thomas de Bruin, Didi Koenders, Harry ter Rele and Rudy ter Rele for proofreading my work and offering useful feedback. Also, I thank my parents for allowing me to spend many hours in their attic to write this thesis, providing me with food and comfort when needed the most.
I also really want to thank all of my interviewees, without whom this thesis could not have been written. I am grateful for the stories they shared, not only the professional, but also the highly personal ones. Although this is ‘just’ a thesis, many of them shared their life story with me. Because of this, writing this thesis did not only contribute to my academic, but especially my personal growth, which I immensely appreciate.
Lastly, I want to thank the people I met in Rwanda and made the place my home for a month: Carmen, Isabel, Vincit, Lena, Cyusa, and many more.
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Abstract
Although various articles have been written about the state of media in post-conflict Rwanda, academic literature on its relation to self-regulation is lacking. This thesis specifically studies self-regulation in a post-conflict state. In particular, this study explores what impact the RMC (Rwanda Media Commission), Rwanda’s self-regulatory body, has had since its introduction in 2013. By means of semi-structured interviews, 31 Rwandan journalists shared their views on the development of Rwandan media after the 1994 genocide, focusing on the past, present and future. Of the interviewees, 5 are in exile and 7 are students of journalism, providing different perspectives to this research. In line with existing literature, Rwandan journalists both value a liberal notion of journalism, as well as a role of reconciliation, rebuilding a post-genocide society. However, contrary to previous research, many journalists expressed a level of uncertainty about how to merge the past and the future into one coherent work ethic. Although the RMC has brought about minor achievements, journalists felt it is still too small and unexperienced to effectively tackle the problems in Rwanda’s media landscape. As a result, journalists indicated practicing self-censorship on a large scale. Media development theories like the social responsibility model and peace journalism fail to explain the uncertainties in media that arise when post-conflict societies get stuck in a transitional phase. A new model should therefore be developed that studies this ‘grey zone’ in post-conflict media.
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Table of content
Acknowledgements ... 2
Abstract ... 3
1. Introduction ... 6
2. Setting the scene ... 9
2.1 The Rwandan genocide ... 9
2.2 The 2013 Media Law ... 10
2.3 Media institutions in Rwanda ... 11
The Rwanda Media Commission (RMC) ... 11
The Media High Council ... 12
The Rwanda Utilities Regulatory Authority (RURA) ... 13
3. Theoretical framework ... 14
3.1 Notions of journalism: beyond traditional roles ... 14
3.3 Peace journalism ... 17
3.4 Self-regulation ... 20
3.5 Self-regulation and self-censorship ... 23
4. Methodology ... 26
4.1 Sampling ... 26
4.2 Doing research in an authoritarian context ... 27
5. The post-genocide development of Rwandan media ... 30
5.1. After the genocide ... 30
6. The Role of Media in Rwandan Society ... 35
6.1 Inform, educate, entertain ... 36
6.2 The genocidal context ... 43
6.3 Social responsibilities ... 46
6.4 A different perspective: criticizing Galtung’s peace theory ... 48
7. Self-regulation of Rwandan media ... 50
7.1 Journalists on self-regulation... 50
7.2 Journalists on the RMC ... 53
7.3 Limitations to Rwandan self-regulation ... 55
7.4 Self-regulation and the RMC ... 58
7.5 Government intervention in self-regulation ... 60
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8. The future of self-regulation in Rwandan Media ... 64
9. Conclusion ... 68 10. Discussion ... 70 11. Bibliography ... 73 12. Appendix ... 82 12.1 List of interviewees ... 82 12.2 Interview questions ... 85
Interviewing journalists located in Rwanda ... 85
Interviewing journalists in exile ... 88
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1. Introduction
In the beginning of 1994, some Rwandan journalists working for government-run media houses used their power for evil when they starting to call Tutsi Rwandans “cockroaches”. Through “hate media”, as they are regularly termed, the journalists incited a genocide, that started on April 6th of that year. In just a hundred days, militias killed around a million citizens and destroyed a whole country (Wolfe, 2006).
Exactly twenty-five years later, my plane lands at Kigali International Airport, a small but very strictly guarded airport at the edge of Rwanda’s capital. It is the evening before the start of Rwanda’s national genocide commemoration week. It also marks the start of my one-month field work trip, during which I will interview Rwandan journalists about their work, the restrictions they face, and, most importantly: how they experience the freedoms they are slowly acquiring, in a society that still fears the media after it had played such a big role in this destructive event (Cruikshank, 2017).
The timing is odd, but interesting. When I leave the airplane, together with a large EU-delegation, and walk past the photographers that are clearly not there for me, I immediately notice an atmosphere that is difficult to grasp. It is somewhat laden with
tension, even though the European and Rwandan officials welcome each other with optimism and jokes. On the way to my temporary house, the soldiers on every street corner first stop, then greet us. We are welcome, in this country, that on one hand is still so strongly defined by the genocide, but on the other hand tries to show it has overcome it. The following days I start interviewing journalists about the future of their profession, whilst visiting many commemoration marches and conferences during which the role of the media in the genocide is discussed.
That contrast between past and future turned out to be a complex yet fascinating aspect of all the 31 conversations with Rwandan journalists that I conducted for this research. Journalists are expected to contribute to the country’s post-genocide
development, carrying out this role by reporting on stories that foster hope, healing, and resilience (McIntyre & Sobel, 2018). This narrative of progress is strongly promoted by Paul Kagame’s government, which, according to some, governs Rwanda under authoritarian rule (Reyntjens, 2004). However, this progress has a downside, as freedom of press in Rwanda became muted by the government, spreading fear among journalists, resulting in actual and self-censorship (Reyntjens, 2015). For a long time, laws have been in place that criminalize all
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press commentary which, according to the government, insults the political leadership, breeds hate or genocide ideology, incites trouble amongst the population, offends the established government, threatens national security, or is perceived as genocide denial (Jambonews, 2018).
Although Rwanda’s press freedom is still ranked very low, some changes have been made to increase press freedom to some extent. One important landmark is the 2013 Media Law, that has imposed legal reforms of Rwandan media. This law gave journalists liberal rights, such as the right to confidentiality and the right to information (IWPR, 2014). Moreover, the law stated Rwandan media from that point on should be regulated non-statuary by an independent media organization. For this, the Rwanda Media Commission (RMC) was created in the same year. The RMC, as an organization of journalists, was granted the right to self-regulate, independently from the government. However, six years later, Rwanda’s press freedom is still ranked low and some Rwandan journalists continue to live in exile (Freedom House, 2018). This raises the question to what extent the media reforms have brought real change, or if they are only symbolic measures.
In this thesis, I investigate these reforms. I will do so by studying journalists’
perceptions of how the media should be regulated, how they experience press freedom, and how they feel self-regulation has changed the role of journalism in Rwanda in the past six years. Conversations with both journalists in exile and with journalists in Rwanda will be used to analyse this matter. The questions are explored under one overarching research question:
How do Rwandan journalists experience and practice self-regulation and how does this self-regulation relate to how they perceive their role as journalists in a post-conflict society?
In the process of writing this thesis, it became increasingly clear how complicated developing a self-regulatory system is for Rwanda as a post-conflict society. In particular, the complexity of both respecting the country’s painful past and building towards the future was something many journalists struggled with. To understand this as a reader, I decided to structure this thesis in chronological order, starting with the past, continuing with an analysis of the present, and ending with the future using the following sub-questions:
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1. Looking backwards: How did Rwanda’s media climate develop after the 1994 genocide until the introduction of the 2013 Media Laws?
2. Analysis 1: How do Rwandan journalists perceive their societal role and what do they see as their most important objectives in their work?
3. Analysis 2: How do Rwandan journalists, and the RMC in particular, practice and experience self-regulation?
4. Looking forwards: What changes do journalists perceive necessary to improve self-regulation of Rwandan media in the future?
The first and the last chapter are predominantly descriptive, whereas the second and third chapter have a more analytic character and will more directly provide the answer to the overarching research question.
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2. Setting the scene
2.1 The Rwandan genocide
In order to understand the current status of Rwanda’s media climate, more background should be given of the country’s recent history. This history is defined by the 1994 genocide, in which around a million citizens were killed (Reyntjens, 2004).
Historically, Rwanda’s racial boundaries were colonially created (Wolfe, 2006). The Hutu/Tutsi division was first imposed by the German and later the Belgian colonizers, to try and get a grip on the country’s complex social order. The Tutsi, a minority group in Rwanda, were assigned an elitist role, hierarchically above the agriculturalist Hutu. This difference was elaborated by the colonizers, stating the Tutsi were originally conquerors from Ethiopia, a country closer to Europe. The Hutu’s origins were framed as from an inferior tribe of a local provenance. This narrative was called the ‘Hamitic Hypothesis’ (Wolfe, 2006).
When the Belgians left the country in the 1960, the ethnic division remained. The Hutu had gained power through organizing themselves. In the following decades, the Hutu increasingly excluded Tutsi from powerful positions by using the same division that had discriminated them for years (Wolfe, 2006). Many Tutsi fled the country to neighbouring countries, like Uganda, until 1990 (Reyntjens, 2004). In that year, the Tutsi refugees re-entered their country, starting a civil war to regain power. Although Rwanda’s Hutu
president Habyarimana had supposedly ended this civil war by the Arusha Accord in August 1993, tensions in the country remained high (Reyntjens, 2004). Escalation arose when in 1994, Habyarimana’s aircraft was shot down from the sky, triggering the beginning of a large-scale massacre claiming the lives of around a million Rwandans in a hundred days. A Hutu radio channel, Radio Télevision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM) contributed to the
polarization by spreading hate. It incentivized Hutu to kill all Tutsi and moderate Hutu and described the Tutsi as cockroaches (Taylor, 2002). The international community, however, remained passive. Describing the violence as ‘ethnic’ or ‘tribal’, the international media framed the event as remote – it took weeks before the term genocide was used (Reyntjens, 2004).
In July 1994, The Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), the party of Rwanda’s current leader Paul Kagame, took over control. Politicians, journalists, and Tutsi in general who supported the party were considered allies – everyone not part of this group was seen as enemies (Taylor, 2002). The RPF around that time committed widespread war crimes,
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mostly against Hutu. The effects of the genocide were terrible: about a million dead, 1,2 million refugees abroad, over 1 million internally displace and tens of thousands of deeply traumatized genocide survivors (Reyntjens, 2004).
Some present the Rwandan reality, and especially the genocide, as having one group of perpetrators (the Hutu Rwandans) and one group of victims (the Tutsi) (Kosicki, 2007). In practice however, about as many Hutu as Tutsi have died, 500.000 victims in both groups (Reyntjens, 2004). Since the Tutsi population is much smaller, in percentage a larger portion has been killed. However, both groups have suffered immensely from the genocide.
By 1994, very few media outlets were left, as many journalists were killed or had fled. Heavy-handed control of the media restricted journalists from executing their profession (Bonde et al., 2015). Press and media laws created in 1996, 2002 and 2009 included
punishment measurements for so-called ‘defamation offenders’, those who publicly incited to the genocide or made public offences related to the genocide. Since the Media High Council, a government institution, was responsible for regulating the media during that time, media regulation was statutory. Only recently, in 2013, Rwanda’s has terminated the legal
possibility to criminalize people speaking out critically about sensitive topics. This will be explored in the following section.
2.2 The 2013 Media Law
In 2013, after many debates, the Rwanda government enacted a new media law. These include the Media Law No. 02/2013, the Media High Council Law No. 03/2013 and the Access to Information Law No. 04/2013 (IPWR, 2014). All of these reforms granted more legal rights and independence to journalists and retracted some power from the government in regulating the media.
Firstly, the Media High Council Law repealed some responsibilities of the Media High Council, a semi-independent government body. For example, the implementation of media laws, controlling political representation and monitoring media during campaigns is now no longer a responsibility of the Council. Instead, the Media High Council now focuses on capacity building in Rwandan media (IPWR, 2014), for example by educating journalists. Furthermore, another law which has been implemented is the Access to Information Law (AIL). This law provides more freedom to journalists, including improved protection of whistleblowers, a reduced time frame for response by government bodies, revision of the sanctions, and new rules on implementation by public bodies. The law also obliges
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authorities to share information with journalists when requested, and protects private organizations “whose activities are in connection with public interest, human rights and freedom” (Freedom Info, 2013). However, the law also includes some limitations to press freedom. For example, authorities still do not have to share information when this would “destabilize national security; impede the enforcement of law or justice; involve interference in the privacy of an individual when it is not of public interest; violate the legitimate
protection of trade secrets or other intellectual property rights protected by the law; and obstruct actual or contemplated legal proceedings against the management of public organ” (IPWR, 2014).
The Media Law No. 02 introduced some progressive reforms, for example relaxing the definition of a professional journalist, as it now includes all with basic journalism skills. Having a degree or certificate is no longer obligatory for this, meaning that journalists
without a degree now also enjoy legal protection as provided in the law. Other laws that are granted to journalists are right to confidentiality, the right to establish a media company and the right to collect information (Freedom Info, 2013). These rights had already been included in a 2009 law reform, however have been renewed in the 2013 Media Law. Lastly, the 2013 Media Law now states that severe penalties, such as closure of media houses and suspension are no longer lawful under press law in Rwanda (Freedom Info, 2013).
2.3 Media institutions in Rwanda The Rwanda Media Commission (RMC)
Article 3 of the Media Law No. 2 also introduced a new media institution responsible for the accreditation of local and foreign journalists in Rwanda. The RMC, the Rwanda Media
Commission, is a self-regulatory body and its introduction marked the shift from statutory regulation to self-regulation of Rwanda media. Previously, the Media High Council had been responsible for this (Ministry of Local Government, 2014). Part of this self-regulation was the reform of the state broadcaster (ORINFOR) to become a public broadcaster. Also, the MHC was given a new mandate to focus on media capacity building (Ministry of Local Government, 2014). The organization holds a list of more than 900 accredited journalists1;
to receive this accreditation however, it needs to be granted by the Media High Council,
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which is a government institution (Irembo, 2019). The application file for accreditation is added in the appendix.
RMC’s task is to monitor the media, for which a two-way monitoring approach is used (RMC, 2019). The first is a complaints-based monitoring approach whereby content is analysed after a complaint is submitted. The second is proactive monitoring whereby RMC staff “scrutinizes print, broadcast and online content on a daily basis to identify professional and ethical gaps” (RMC, 2019). To do so, RMC has set up a code of ethics that is the basis for the assessment of such complaints. This code of ethics describes both journalists’ obligations and rights and how these two should be enforced. Some of the journalists
obligations are the defence of universal values, the search for truth, the duty to rectify when necessary, independence, the respect for private life and human dignity, the protection of sources, the protection of minors, and the avoidance of incitement to hatred, portrayal of violence, plagiarism and sensational headlines (RMC, 2019). Some of the journalists’ rights are protection, subordination refusal, and the right to protect sources (RMC, 2019).
The RMC is also a mediating body, meaning conflicts between or with journalists are first to be resolved by the Commission, to avoid taking the case to court. Only when this process fails, a dispute can be brought to trial. This decriminalizes media offences, such as plagiarism or defamation. In this way, the law grants protection to journalists in the case of disagreements (Bonde et al., 2015). The 2013 Media Law thus introduced a new significant player in the media landscape, seeking to improve the media sector in Rwanda. RMC’s mandate is three-fold: promoting and nurturing professional and ethical practices, defending media freedom, and to speak on behalf of the Rwandan media (Bonde et al., 2015).
The RMC’s board is constituted out of four media practitioners, and three additional representatives who function as the Ethics Committee on a rotational basis (RMC, 2014). Furthermore, the board is supported by a nine-member secretariat that works in the field to give legal advice, handle complaints, accreditation, monitor the media and communication and handle financial issues. All accredited journalists can participate in General Assembly’s to vote on RMC’s decisions and policy issues.
The Media High Council
On 15 May 2002, the Rwanda government accepted a new press law, which allowed the creation of private radio stations and established the High Council of the Press (HCP) (Frère, 2009). The government defined this institution as an ‘independent body dealing with
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the press’, but ‘attached to the Presidency of the Republic’ (Article 73). In the document that decided on the structure, organization and working methods of this body, the attachment to the government was not mentioned again. In 2003, the HCP was therefore established as an ‘independent body’ (Frère, 2009). In 2009, the HCP received its current name and became the Media High Council. With the new name, the Media High Council also received a wider mandate, regulating the media and “promoting freedom, responsibility and professionalism of the media” (Ministry of Local Government, 2014). In case of violations of media regulation, it was the Media High Council’s task to handle complaints and decide on punishments.
With the introduction of the 2013 Media Law, the mandate of the Rwanda Media High Council changed again. As regulation of the press shifted to the RMC, the Media High Council was assigned capacity building of the media as its main task, as well as guiding official media education platforms in the country, including the School of Journalism and
Communication (SJC) at the University of Rwanda (UR) and the Great Lakes Media Center (GLMC), both directly funded by the government of Rwanda (Ministry of Local Government, 2014).
The Rwanda Utilities Regulatory Authority (RURA)
Since 2013, the government has legally withdrawn from media regulation, and this has instead become RMC’s official task. However, to regulate the technical part of the media, such as TV and radio licensing, RMC works together with the Rwanda Utilities Regulatory Authority (RURA), a government institution that is responsible for regulating all technical media licensing. It is RURA therefore that also issues broadcasting licenses and grants broadcasting and telecasting frequencies (Ministry of Local Government, 2014). The government therefore expects the RMC and RURA to collaborate, as they are both required to ensure media outlets' compliance with government decisions. According to the Ministry of Local Government (2014), this is “in accordance with the consensually agreed journalistic Code of Conduct, professionalism and protection of media consumers against abuse” (p. 17). Although the government officially distinguishes the RURA from the RMC as the former is responsible for technical regulation and the latter for content regulation, in practice a grey area exists where the responsibilities of the institutions differentiate. This has caused conflicts between the two institutions in the past (Ministry of Local Government, 2014), and “has to be streamlined and clearly differentiated, since media self-regulation is still nascent and finding its feet” (Ministry of Local Government, 2014, p. 23).
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3. Theoretical framework
This thesis contributes to the research on media regulation in post-conflict societies. Before analysing the case of Rwanda, this chapter presents a theoretical framework to contextualize the case, and situate the research question.
The framework starts by studying the traditional societal roles of journalism and important additions to this theory, such as development journalism (Hachten, 1981) and the role of journalism in African societies (Mfumbusa, 2006). Furthermore, I explore the role of media in (post-)conflict societies, as Rwanda is still regularly defined as such in both academic literature and news articles (Russell & Quaynor, 2017; Banning-Lover, 2015). In particular, the debate around Galtung’s peace journalism (1998) provides a useful framework to study post-conflict media. Lastly, the concept of self-regulation will be discussed. Since research suggests self-regulation can cause self-censorship in fragile media environments, I will study this relation as well, to gain a deeper understanding of the case of Rwanda.
3.1 Notions of journalism: beyond traditional roles
In this section, I explore different normative views on what role of journalism should perform in a society. As Western scholars publishing on mass media have traditionally used the Four Theories of the Press to answer this question, the model will be used as a starting point (Siebert et al., 1956). However, the Four Theories have been criticized many times, especially for being too focused on Western countries. Therefore, two other notions of journalism are included as well, which are development theory and African journalism. Whereas development theory (Hachten, 1981) is a well-known addition to the Four Theories of the Press, African journalism cannot be captured into one coherent theory and is instead characterized by its plurality (Mfumbusa, 2006). However, when studying journalism in Rwanda, understanding this plurality can be deemed necessary as well to contextualize the case in the literature.
Starting with the Four Theories of The Press, this normative model explores “what the press should be and do” (Siebert, Peterson & Schramm, 1956). It is centralized around four notions of journalism: libertarian, authoritarian, social responsibility journalism and the Soviet communist model (Siebert, Peterson & Schramm, 1956). The Four Theories all explore how power between the state and the media should be divided, and which entity should be subordinate to the other (Ostini & Ostini, 2009).
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Firstly, the libertarian model is based on rationality and a “desire for truth”, because of which citizens consciously choose to be informed by the media (Siebert et al., 1956). In this model, journalism is seen as the ‘fourth’ estate, as opposed to the judiciary, executive and legislative power. A distrust from the population towards the state and the government is inherent to libertarian journalism. Also, the model is characterized by a low power distance, meaning lower-ranked citizens do not accept imposed hierarchy and believe power should be divided equally in society (Hofstede, 1983). The media’s task is therefore to openly challenge those in power. Because of this, government regulation of the media is considered neither necessary nor useful by libertarian journalism.
Secondly, the authoritarian model considers the state as an important actor, if not the most important (Siebert et al., 1956). According to the model, “man” is incomplete without society. Although the model assumes knowledge is complex and difficult to obtain by individuals, it can be manipulated by outsiders with immoral purposes. To avoid this, it is deemed necessary that the distribution of information is controlled by the state (Siebert et al., 1956). The authoritarian model can be linked to a high power distance, as this model accepts an unequal power distribution when this benefits society. In journalism, media practitioners are expected to support authorities and present a positive image towards political leadership (Hanitzsch et al., 2010).
Thirdly, the social responsibility model is based on libertarian theory, as it believes informing the public should be the main purpose of the media. The world has become complicated, according to the model, and people have become vulnerable to these complexities (Ostini & Ostini, 2002). Therefore, the social responsibility model considers gathering and distributing educational and adequate information as a moral obligation to society. Just like the libertarian model, this model supports a low power distance, and believes an informed population can create a more equal power division in society (Siebert et al., 1956). However, the social responsibility model allows for more government intervention, when this benefits the wellbeing of society. Therefore, some authors later described this theory as social-libertarian (Lowenstein, 1979).
Fourthly, the Soviet Communist model is considered another variant of authoritarianism, with media being subordinate to functions of the state (Siebert et al., 1956). This model justifies state control by intellectuals to dispel “false ideologies” and “promote revolutionary consciousness” (Ostini & Ostini, 2002). Similar to authoritarianism, this model is characterized by a high power distance, and it expects journalists to be loyal to the state
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(Hanitzsch et al., 2010). However, the Communist model also differs from the authoritarian model, particularly on media ownership. In authoritarian systems, press can be privately owned, whereas the Communist model only allows for state ownership (Ostini & Ostini, 2002). As Soviet communism has become a historical concept, authors have later renamed the model to social-authoritarianism (Lowenstein, 1979).
Development journalism
Although the Four Theories have been fundamental for many mass media theorists, the concept has also been criticized for being too focused on Western states, historically laden and static (Ostini & Ostini, 2009). Hachten (1981) therefore added a fifth notion of journalism, namely development journalism or third world journalism. The model is a combination of communist and social-responsibility ideals (1981) and shares traits with authoritarianism. In particular, the theory focuses on “impoverished nations throughout the developing world” that are in the process of obtaining political independence (1981). In this process, Hachten suggests individual rights sometimes can be subordinated to the larger objective of nation-building. Also, media freedom should sometimes be restricted for political, economic or cultural development needs (Hachten & Scotton, 2012).
The idea that freedom of the press can be subordinate to the development aims of the ruling party and a perception of the greater good, is a recurring notion in development media theory (Sobel & McIntyre, 2018). Such a notion of journalism can regularly be found in post-conflict states, which will be elaborated on later in this chapter, when discussing the development of post-conflict societies.
African journalism
When discussing journalism to understand the case of Rwanda, African theories on the role of journalism in society should also be included. As many theories on journalism have been written by Western authors, African theorists are underrepresented in literature. Importantly, there is no such thing as ‘one African culture’ (Tomasselli, 2003), as various authors emphasize, and this complexity should be integrated in the study of non-Western journalism (Tomasselli, 2003). Yet, studying African newsroom values, besides Western ones, can be useful for understanding the role of journalism in Rwanda.
Studying existing literature, Nyamnjoh argues that many authors only consider journalism as an important part of “so-called ‘modern’, often Western societies”, ignoring the
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media in other states (Nyamnjoh, 2005, p. 1). In addition, he observes that the few scholars who do analyze African media, only use Western theories in their analysis. He criticizes this, stating that Western views on journalism cannot simply be implemented in African states (Nyamnjoh, 2005). Christians and Traber (1997) also recognize the “widespread belief” that liberal frameworks based on “the dominant North Atlantic and patriarchal ethical frameworks are not working in many African countries” (Christians & Traber, 1997, p. 8). Therefore, the authors state a new notion of journalism should be created, that recognizes the ways in which African journalists merge their traditions with exogenous influences (Nyamnjoh, 2005). Multiple scholars have articulated such an Afrocentric normative vision on media, often emphasizing the need for a return to “African ethical roots”, which can be defined as a “collective approach” to ethics (Moemeka, 1998). Some of the dimensions that are deemed important in this collective approach are ethnicity, sanctity of authority, and community (Mfumbusa, 2006). There have also been calls for greater professionalism in the media industry of various African countries, signalling problems with ethics and corruption in the newsroom. Although multiple authors recognize these problems, many of them also stress that there are no “binding ethical values” that can speak for the whole continent, and that studies attempting to do this have been feeble (Mfumbusa, 2006).
Summarizing, although the Four Theories of The Press offer important insights when studying the societal roles of media, they do not suffice. Not only are they too static to capture the complex media environments of various countries, they also strongly focus on Western countries. Whereas development journalism succeeds in shifting the focus to non-Western countries, it presents a rather simplistic image, as it divides the world into developed and developing regions (Waisbord, 2009). African theories on journalism surpass this dichotomy and observe a plurality of media cultures on the continent. However, this also complicates the understanding of media roles, as they conclude African journalism cannot be captured into one coherent theory (Mfumbusa, 2006). In addition to these complexities, research suggests media in post-conflict environments face extra challenges, as these societies are particularly fragile (Price, 2000). Therefore, the role of media should be situated in post-conflict societies as well, which will be done in the following section.
3.3 Peace journalism
Research suggests media roles change after a society suffers from events like war or conflict (Hutchinson, 2018). These events are disruptive, and painful, and generally leave a society with
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a national trauma. As conflicts shatter a society’s social reality, the identity of a country needs to be rebuilt. This is a long and painful process that produces uncertainty and fear (Hutchinson, 2018). However, national trauma can also help to reshape the social reality of a community. Through framing the event as a collective experience, Hajer and Laws (2006) suggest a new reality can be created that brings a society back together. Sending messages into the public domain, the media contribute to the framing of historical events and the reconstruction of a collective discourse. Because of this, some see journalism as an important tool for conflict resolution (Ross, 2004). As journalists merge individual experiences into one collective experience, they bring a society together (Hutchison, 2018).
Peace journalism, as introduced by Galtung (1998), is probably the most well-known theory that supports this idea. In his essay High Road, Low Road (1998), Galtung studies how journalists in a conflict or post-conflict setting should contribute to the reconstruction of a country. Here, he distinguishes between two ways to cover conflicts: the low road, which turns out to be the inferior way, focuses on conflict as a battle and can be characterized as ‘war journalism’. It draws from a zero-sum perspective, talks of ‘losers’ and ‘winners’, and, according to Galtung (1998) invites for untruthful reporting. Peace journalism as the high road, in contrast, focuses on conflict transformation, human progress and prioritizes opportunities over violence. It focuses on the people behind the violence and shows both sides of the conflict. In this way, it is believed, the media can contribute to peace (Galtung, 1998). Behind this contrast is the conception that achieving full objectivity in reporting is very difficult, if not impossible; so, that when a side must be chosen, it is preferred to be the one that portrays the human perspective (Koop, 2018).
The objective for peace journalists is three-fold, according to some scholars: they should contribute to healing the past, building a peaceful society, and improving the future (Orgeret, 2016). To move on from the past, previous suffering and losses should be acknowledged and actively dealt with (Hamber & Kelly, 2004). For example, the media can provide a platform where victims and perpetrators of a traumatic event can share experiences to clarify the past, in order to facilitate ‘genuine healing’ (Orgeret, 2016). When it comes to the present role of media in a post-conflict society, existing grievances should be resolved to support positive relation-building. For example, this can be done by portraying different groups of people and showing their personalities (Hamber & Kelly, 2004). Thirdly, looking at the
future, some authors believe peace journalism can bring about significant cultural and attitudinal
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an open space “in which people can hear and be heard” (Hamber & Kelly, 2004, p. 4). According to some scholars, peace journalists can use their power for good and create these ‘open platforms’ for discussion. In this way, the media can contribute to a more peaceful society (Galtung, 1998).
Peace journalism has been acknowledged for providing a framework in which a more transparent and balanced media discourse can be created. Kempf (2007), for example, states the practice liberates “the journalistic mainstream idea of objectivity from its inadequacies and constructively further develops it” (p. 7). Others highlight peace journalism can prevent conflict reporters from ending up in ‘us-they narratives’ and ‘propaganda traps’ (Kempf, 2007; Lynch & McGoldrick 2006). However, despite its influence on post-conflict theory and its various adaptations, peace journalism has been receiving criticism as well, of which four main critiques can be distinguished.
Firstly, some authors raise the point that peace journalism surpasses what they see as the role of journalism. Hanitzsch (2004) for example believes journalists are autonomous and should be kept free from societal purposes besides reporting. Furthermore, he opposes the powerful and positive effects peace journalism is suggested to have. Instead, he believes its influence is limited, even though journalism can contribute to peaceful settlements of conflicts. Also, he argues, it is not the primary task of journalists to free the world from crises (Hanitzsch, 2004). Similarly, Fawcett (2002) highlights that journalists, by accepting the framework of peace journalism, start participating in the rhetorical structures that they should report on at the same time. As a result, journalists position themselves as both storytellers and politicians, rather than media practitioners. This is harmful, she argues, as she believes this surpasses the role of journalism (Fawcett, 2002).
A second criticism of peace journalism is that it rejects the notion that true objectivity can be achieved. Whereas many authors agree that publishing objectively cannot naturally be assumed, they do feel it should be pursued to improve the quality of journalism. For example, Loyn (2007) believes journalists should focus on truth-finding and factual representation, not society-building. Discussing the concept of objectivity, he states that although finding the absolute ‘truth’ might be impossible, seeking ‘truthfulness’ might still be a manageable goal. In any case, he believes, peace reporting drifts off further from this goal, as it “commits itself to the adoption of particular perspectives”. In the same way, Kempf (2007) feels radically turning away from the call for objectivity could turn “peace journalism into a form of advocacy journalism, which leads directly to PR and propaganda” and could lead to a reduce of trust
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from the public (p. 7).
Thirdly, some authors state peace journalism can easily be hijacked by a post-conflict government to exercise its own interest. For example, Curtis (2000) raises the problem that local peace-building media initiatives might fail when becoming too big and influential in the eyes of the government, especially when cultural or political sensitivities are involved. Especially when a project includes external donors, there should be a deep understanding of the political and social dynamics of the region, as the media are never considered a neutral force in a post-conflict environment (Curtis, 2000). As a result, a notion of peace journalism could be taken by authoritarian rulers to legitimize further restrictions on press freedom (Gunaratne, 1999; Wong, 2004). In environments where governments or powerful interests exercise control over the many, some authors suggest peace journalism can quickly turn into “another form of propaganda compelled to aggravate societal pressures through manipulative reporting” (Ross, 2004, p. 121).
As a fourth point, scholars criticize how peace journalism ignores the many challenges post-conflict media face in practice. Because of these challenges, they argue post-conflict journalists can only do so much (Ross, 2004). These scholars emphasize that post-conflict states generally suffer from democratic deficits, poor state performance and representation of citizens, despite achievements like a growing civil society and increasing political space (Carothers, 2002). As a result, journalists are mostly working in less-than-ideal environments and face many daily challenges. They have limited time and personnel, suffer from low social status, meagre pay and no professional training, and have sometimes never seen the concept of a reliable diverse and independent media in their country. Building a whole new peaceful society, like peace journalism theory suggests, is therefore deemed almost impossible (Ross, 2004). Peace journalism does not adequately acknowledge this, these authors stress, and state peace journalism is to a large extent based on the wrong “assumption of powerful, causal and linear media effects” (Hanitzsch, 2004). Although these authors recognize peace journalism can support progress, they stress post-conflict media are characterized by failure as well, ending up in what Carothers calls a ‘grey zone’ (2002). Stuck in this grey zone, the contributions media can make to progress are very limited.
3.4 Self-regulation
According to libertarian thinkers, self-regulation as opposed to statutory government control is an ideal model of media accountability (Rioba, 2012). Journalists are considered watchdogs
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of power holders in society, relating to a Western idea of a democratic society. However, self-regulation might work differently when enforced in a media environment that upholds a different notion of journalism, such as social responsibility journalism or authoritarianism (Rioba, 2012). This section of the theoretical framework therefore situates the concepts of media regulation and self-regulation in a post-conflict environment like Rwanda. Also, the relationship between self-regulation and self-censorship is explored.
Self-regulation knows many definitions (Campbell, 1999), however, most theorists agree that it applies to regulation where the industry or a profession regulates itself, instead of the government. By making its members accountable, self-regulation can prevent external regulation; this can operate as a form of protection from unnecessary or unwanted government intervention (Gadzekpo, 2010). However, the government does not necessarily have to be entirely absent in the regulation process (Campbell, 1999) as in practice, self-regulation often is a combination of self-, co- and statutory self-regulation (Tambini, Leonardi & Marsden, 2008). Self-regulation can appear in various extents, and an industry might be involved in only several components, for example developing a code of ethics (Campbell, 1999).
Self-regulation can be beneficial, many suggest, for example because the industry is more knowledgeable about a practice than an assigned government official would be (Campbell, 1999). Also, when comparing self-regulation to statutory regulation, self-regulation is believed to have more legitimacy in the industry. Since the members of an industry are the developer of the rules, compliance might become easier and smoother than when rules are imposed top-down (Tambini, 2008). Also, self-regulation offers more flexibility in responding to change. Furthermore, it can offer protection from government and political intervention, which especially desired when media content addresses sensitive topics (Gadzekpo, 2010; Tambini, 2008).
Zooming in on media self-regulation specifically, Rioba (2009) defines self-regulation “as […] the media industry taking initiatives to ensure adherence to agreed ethical standards and to enhance accountability to the general public” (p. 117). McQuail (1997) highlights how in a self-regulatory system, the free media have obligations to perform specific journalistic behavior. These obligations are either “assigned, contracted, self-imposed or denied”, but in any case, journalists are held accountable for them, either “legally, socially or morally” (McQuail, 1997, p. 518). More specifically, their accountability occurs either in the sense of liability or answerability for harm caused by low-quality performance” (McQuail, 1997, p. 518).
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In general, media theorists favor self-regulation over statutory regulation (Tambini, 2008; Campbell, 1999), although it is also stressed that in practice, self-regulation is often combined with government involvement, either forced or voluntarily – in practice, pure self-regulation is rare. In some cases a society might even be more comfortable with state regulation than self-regulation, for example when rating content for decency in broadcasting (Tambini, Leonardi and Marsden, 2008). Also, it is important to state that self-regulation goes beyond a government-practitioner relationship, as media accountability also includes answerability to the readers, listeners and viewers of the public (Gadzekpo, 2010).
As Rioba (2012) indicates, self-regulation appears to be an extension of the ‘free’ market, as a central part of Western liberal democracies. This could be an explanation for why theories on self-regulation of media in post-conflict states are not widely represented in current literature. In the case of Rwanda, most of the literature still focuses on the statutory regulation that was present in the country until 2013 (Frère, 2009; Thompson, 2007), revealing the relevance of a study on the influence of self-regulation of Rwandan media. However, the study of media regulation in Tanzania by Rioba (2012) provides insights into when self-regulation can particularly improve a country’s media landscape. This is the case, for instance, when public trust in the media is lacking; when the state has threatened to enhance measures to control the media in order to protect the public; or when the media has been in power of a few firms with strong (financial) interests (Rioba, 2012). In these cases, the media can regain trust from the public and develop agency when introducing self-regulation in their country (Frère, 2009).
Besides this, Rioba also describes under what conditions media self-regulation has the highest chance to succeed (2012). Firstly, there should be an understanding of the need for pluralistic democracy and media; the media should be owned by people who “know and appreciate the role and functions of media in democracy and who are prepared to balance business interests with public interests” (Rioba, 2012 , p. 114); the media should be run by professional and reliable editors; the media should be run by professional media personnel who are trained and experienced; the media outlets should be diverse in its publications and promote diversity; and the media should not depend entirely on advertisers or owners’ “whims for their own survival” (Rioba, 2012, p. 114). Whether these conditions apply to Rwandan media will be studied in the following chapters, however the work of various authors suggests Rwandan media fail to comply to at least several of this conditions (Frère, 2009; Bonde et al., 2015).
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Research suggests self-regulation of media in developing states can be seen as a positive and empowering development (Rioba, 2012). Yet, at the same time, self-regulatory systems can become vulnerable to free market interests or private ownership, especially in the first phase of the process (Rioba, 2012). In some African countries, like Uganda, Kenya and Botswana, self-regulatory bodies were introduced only after their government had threatened to control ‘irresponsible media’ through statutory bodies, suggesting a fragile power balance in the media of such states (Bussiek, 2008, p. 2).
3.5 Self-regulation and self-censorship
Although the advantages of self-regulation of media have been broadly discussed in literature, various authors also suggest the introduction of self-regulation can produce unwanted
consequences. The increase of self-censorship is one of them, especially in post-conflict societies. Since disagreements exists on the definition of both censorship and self-censorship, both of the concepts are discussed in the following section.
Traditionally, censorship is defined as a form of direct regulatory intervention by political authorities, such as the state or the church (Muller, 2004). This censorship is considered highly political and ideological, preserving political power through controlling what is published. It is direct and concrete, executed by someone in a position of authority (Muller, 2004). Therefore, scholars suggest political censorship is supported more by those higher up in managerial hierarchy and people who have gained from transitional development (Pietilänen & Strovsky, 2010). In practice, two kinds of censorship can be distinguished, namely pre-publication censorship or licensing, and post-pre-publication censorship, when the “dissemination and reception” of material is restrained after it has been published (Muller, 2004, p. 4).
Self-censorship, however, differs from ‘normal’ censorship for at least three reasons. The practice can be defined as omission arising from sensitivities in politico-social contexts; these sensitivities can be real or ‘only’ perceived as such (Ho, 2008). Firstly, self-censorship is not necessarily a conscious process where a decision to publish is made through weighing pros and cons; instead, such considerations are mostly unconscious, drawing from an internalization of social norms. Secondly, the relationship between authorities and media organizations is less clear-cut, as Lee and Chan highlight (2008). Whereas censorship is believed to have a direct link with authorities, self-censorship can occur without any influence from higher powers, as long as the feeling exists that control is present. In that case, the perception of control can cause journalists to avoid offending powerholders, such as the government, business
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corporations and advertisers (Lee & Chan, 2008). Thirdly, media can also suffer from controlling norms from the past, imposed by certain powers but now no longer officially in place. Because of these reasons, self-censorship is arguably more difficult to capture than ‘regular’ censorship, especially in media cases. Summarizing this issue, Muller raises the question, “[w]here does authorial revision end, and where does censorial excision start?” (2004, p. 25).
Research suggests new self-regulatory bodies often struggle with self-censorship, especially in fragile media environments (Tambini, Leonardi & Marsden, 2008). This suggests that although self-regulation might reduce official barriers to speak freely, the barriers still exists in people’s minds. Tambini, Leonardi & Marsden (2008) argue that self-regulation can provoke so-called ‘privatized censorship’, as regulation is now conducted by private
institutions, instead of by the government. The responsibility for fundamental rights, as described in Article 10 of the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR), is given to private actors, who are generally powerful actors in the section they work for. Finding a healthy balance might be challenging when the regulators are stakeholders at the same time (Tambini, Leonardi & Marsden, 2008). As a result, some fear self-regulation could constitute a direct threat to speech rights.
Even with relatively open-minded official editorial policies, research shows reporting practices can still be restrictive in post-conflict societies, where levels of uncertainty are high (Skjerdal, 2008). As Ross (2004) points out, state censorship in post-conflict states might continue in a less predictable manner, by favouring media outlets that support government interests (Ross, 2004). For example, this can be done by controlling licensing of media to its own interest (Ross, 2004), by sponsoring media outlets they favour or by inviting them to important state events (Rioba, 2012). Furthermore, self-regulatory bodies can bring higher levels of uncertainty with them, especially when they are new and relatively fragile. When there is no impartial or third party judge to decide over sensitive issues, and instead self-regulatory bodies take over this role, insecurity rises on how much protection these bodies truly offer for journalists (Ross, 2004). Since uncertainty is a fertile ground for self-censorship, as Skjerdal suggests, it can even be more significant when it comes to imposing restrictions on journalists than statutory regulation (Skjerdal, 2010).
As a result, some authors claim self-regulating media intentionally or unconsciously adopt censorship to avoid transgressions (Ross, 2004; Skjerdal, 2010). Part of such self-censorship is a lacking diversity of opinions and uncritical media outlets, especially when it
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comes to sensitive state interests (Ross, 2004). Adherence to social responsibility is sometimes brought as a justification for self-censorship, just as relegation of ethical responsibility and elasticity of journalistic editing (Skjerdal, 2010). Relating this to peace journalism, legitimizing responsible publishing for a country’s reconciliation process could in fact increase self-censorship among journalists. Especially in post-conflict settings, where uncertainty is high, journalists might remain on the ‘safe side’ of publishing (Ross, 2004). As a result, even when on paper a negative freedom is achieved, defined as the absence of statutory regulation, the agency to truly publish freely can be far away.
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4. Methodology
To study self-regulation in Rwanda, a qualitative research was conducted using semi-structured interviews. In total, 24 journalists were interviewed, of which 19 were located in Rwanda and 5 of them were in exile. The journalists in Rwanda were interviewed in person, whereas the journalists living abroad were interviewed through Skype. Besides journalists already working in the field, 7 students of journalism were interviewed, recruited through and conducted at the School of Journalism in Rwanda (SJC) at the University of Rwanda in Huye, to learn more about how future journalists are educated, as well as learning about what journalists-to-be consider important for the future of media. During the interviews conducted, pre-set themes as well as new topics introduced by the journalists themselves were discussed. This provided a clear structure during the interviews, however also allowed room for surprise.
4.1 Sampling
Interviewees were initially recruited through official Rwandan media organizations. The AJR, the Rwandan Journalist Association, provided a list with contact information of 10 Rwandan journalists. Moreover, PAX Press, a network of “journalists that promote peace, unity and reconciliation” provided contacts within Rwandan media. The aforementioned organizations are all central, located in the capital of Kigali, and operate of a national level. Research has indicated that journalists working for national, centralized organizations in a (semi-)authoritarian context generally express a level of support for the government, whereas private and more rural organizations tend to have a more independent stance (Cruikshank, 2016). Therefore, some journalists were also contacted via social media (Twitter and Facebook), to reach a more diverse group of people. Lastly, a contact list provided by Radio La Benevolencija, a Dutch NGO working with Rwandan community media, provided opportunity to contact journalists working for community radios in more rural areas.
After initial interviews with journalists were held, a snowball sample approach was used. Interviewees were asked if they knew colleagues that were interested in participating in the research as well. This was sometimes asked as an open question and sometimes more targeted to finding contacts in a specific group (e.g. women, which are strongly underrepresented in Rwandan journalism, a problem that was faced by other researchers in Rwandan media as well (Sobel & McyIntyre, 2018)). Although a snowball sample approach has been fruitful in the search for contacts, it has raised questions on how to preserve the
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anonymity of the interviewees. In this regard, the Glasius et al. (2017) state that “a policy of openness should not extend to telling respondents details about each other” (Glasius et al., 2017, p. 55), an approach that has been followed throughout the research.
Throughout the research, much time was spent on trust-building with interviewees, before actually conducting the in-depth interviews. Thomson et al. (2013) suggest that trust-building and investing in “warm connections” is important, especially in the Great Lakes region, of which Rwanda is part. They write: ‘(a)s researchers we cannot expect people to respond to us with openness, nor expect that they will tell us their real opinions and experiences when they have just met us. […] Why would anyone divulge sensitive information, that if known beyond the confines of your interview could get them into trouble with neighbours and local authorities alike?’ (p. 6) Whereas initially, the plan was to distribute consent forms, this turned out to overly formalize the interviews, hindering a more relaxed conversation. Therefore the start of the interviews, the conditions were discussed and verbally agreed upon on record. Some of the conditions discussed were: anonymity, meaning not only the protection of names, but also of information that could possibly reveal the identity of the interviewees. According to Glasius at al. (2017) this is important to truly guarantee anonymity. Furthermore, the opportunity to end the interview at any time when desired was stressed, as well as the fact that transcriptions would not be shared with others than the researcher and the supervisor. In addition to the interviews, desk research was performed as well, studying several policy documents such as the policy paper describing Rwanda’s 2014-2020 government’s policy (Minstry of Local Government, 2014) and a 2015 policy paper from the RMC that evaluates the 2013 media law (Bonde et al., 2015). These policy papers were used to deepen understanding of the (desired) role of media in Rwanda and to study RMC’s effectiveness in the first years of its existence.
4.2 Doing research in an authoritarian context
Doing research in Rwanda, a country with a high level of authoritarianism (Reyntjens, 2013), is not easy. Conducting research on post-conflict journalism is perhaps even more difficult, especially since the Rwandan society still experiences national trauma from the genocide in which the media played an important role (Reyntjens, 2004). This created challenges for conducting the research. To cope with this, the handbook from Glasius et al. (2017) on doing research in an authoritarian context provided a useful starting point, especially on how to avoid sensitivities.
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Firstly, the authors state a researcher should “frame the research topic in a way that has the best chance of reducing any sensitivity around it” (Glasius et al., 2017). For my research, this meant that topics related to the genocide as well as any criticisms to the government needed to be approached with care. Secondly, the authors emphasize that the safety of the interviewees must always be guaranteed (Glasius et al., 2017). In the case of Rwanda, this is especially deemed important, as research suggests being critical can still be dangerous (Sobel & McIntyre, 2018). Therefore, throughout the research, the safety of participants has been kept in mind as much as possible. As Glasius et al. (2017) state, discussing sensitive issues in public can hinder a free and open conversation, but can also be dangerous for the interviewees. Public places were thus avoided as interview locations unless the participant explicitly stated he or she preferred it for the interview. Instead, interviews were conducted at private locations, such as the interviewer’s house, the interviewee’s house or the interviewee’s office. Furthermore, to assure safety of the interviewees, the names of interviewees were not shared with third parties, nor with other interviewees. Only when an interviewee was reached through the network of another interviewee, and it could be assumed I interviewed the first participant as well, this was sometimes expressed. The content of the interviews was never shared with third parties or other interviewees, unless described as very general remarks that could not be traced back to an individual.
When referring back to respondents in this thesis, the names of the interviewees will not be shared. Instead, the interviewees have all been linked to imaginary names, which are based on a list of Rwanda’s most common names. Although the assigning of these names has been random, they have been used consistently throughout the paper so that the reader knows which quotes all have been said by the same person. A list of the interviewees will be shared in Appendix A. Besides this list, some information on the interviewee is given, such as location and years of work experience, although the latter could not be retrieved for all journalists.
Another challenge that can occur when doing research in an authoritarian context is finding out what are ‘truthful’ answers, especially when interviewing journalists in a post-conflict society with a strong historical narrative like Rwanda (Sobel & McIntyre, 2018). Although direct confrontation as an interviewing strategy could be seen as a way to ‘find’ this truth, Glasius et al. (2017) strongly plead against this. In an authoritarian context, they state, it is not the job of the interviewer to influence the view of interviewees. Moreover, it is seen as unproductive, leading to strong tensions and closed-off interviewees (Glasius et al., 2017,
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p. 68). Instead, they propose triangulation, thus integrating obtained information in a context of other sources. Therefore, for this thesis, the content discussed in interviews was combined with academic literature and media sources. In this way, a nuanced and contextualized picture of the state of Rwandan media could be created.
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Looking backwards
5. The post-genocide development of Rwandan media
“You know, I'm smiling. Because that's all we can make of it now. But the more you know, the past can make you cry really bad. But I'm trying to build this word, this global village of ours, by telling
you the story of what happened to me”2
This thesis is about the media in Rwanda of today. Therefore, the result section of this study initially begun by analysing the current conditions in which Rwandan media operate. Quite quickly, however, it became clear that in order to understand the present, one should first gain a deeper understanding of Rwanda’s past media development.
As stated in the methodology section, 24 Rwandan journalists and 7 students of journalism were interviewed about the introduction of self-regulation in Rwandan media. Five of these journalists are currently not in Rwanda anymore, as they fled the country for their safety, and are currently living in various European countries. Although all 31 conversations contributed to my understanding of Rwanda’s past media developments, in this chapter, there will be a particular focus on the interviews with Rwandan journalists in exile. In the conversations, the journalists were asked to provide insights about their work experience in Rwanda after the genocide until their point of refuge, which varies from 2000 to 2015. Because of this, the five interviews offer insights in different turning points in recent Rwandan history that eventually caused their refuge.
As the journalists in exile have not been to and worked in Rwanda for different amounts of time, the interviews discussed in this chapter mainly focus on past experiences. Four of the five interviews with journalists in exile were performed before traveling to Rwanda; as a result, the experiences strongly influenced my expectations of the state of media in the country. Although these expectations only turned out to be a part of the complex reality of Rwandan media, the interviews did provide more context and important perspectives to the stories that would later be told in Rwanda.
5.1. After the genocide
In June 1994, the 100-day genocide, during which around a million Rwandans were killed, had ended (Reyntjens, 2004). All the respondents who are old enough to remember, both those
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in exile as well as those still in Rwanda, described how the whole Rwandan media landscape had been destroyed and most journalists had fled. As François stated: “there were no materials, no work, and no journalists”3. He continued:
“Before the 1994 genocide, we had more than 30 newspapers, but almost all journalists were killed or living in exile. Reportiers Sans Frontières (RSF) were in Rwanda and they tried to meet many former journalists to help them start their newspapers again. And they gave them some money for trying to work with that. Some newspapers, about six I think, tried to come back.4
In general, the journalists in exile expressed they initially experienced a sense of hope and optimism that Rwandan media would restore itself. Patrick, who joined the RPF to fight with Kagame’s army, believed that after the genocide had ended, “we could go back and do our thing as journalists”. Especially the Tutsi ‘genocide survivors’ expected to have some freedom, enjoying protection from the RPF-government, which was mainly constituted of Tutsi Rwandans5. François, who identified himself as Tutsi during the interview, shared this
expectation that Rwandan media could continue like before:
“After the genocide had ended, there were some newspapers who thought: we're free now, we have become free. And they tried to speak about everything. So you see, the people who had escaped from the 1994 genocide and the war, who used to work in journalism, started doing what did they before. For example, they started writing about corruption, or the bad habits of soldiers.”6
However, the journalists in exile said they quickly dropped these expectations, as they experienced an increasingly tighter control from the government, led by president Bizimungu until 2000 (BBC, 2018). Patrick, who indicated to be somewhat critical at that time, quickly felt that “some kind of dictatorship was evolving”7. A fear that withheld the population from
speaking out was widespread and hindered journalists in their work, for example when gathering information. But it also created more logistic issues, such as the difficulty to print Rwandan newspapers. Jason, for example, stated:
“It was very difficult. Because there were no organizations that could print our newspapers, because our newspapers were critical, and we were criticizing the
3 Francois, interview, Brussels, 29 March 2019 4 Francois, interview, Brussels, 29 March 2019
5 Francois, interview, Brussels, 23 March 2019; Patrick, interview, Skype, 30 March 2019 6 Francois, interview, Brussels, 29 March 2019
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government. And so all the printing companies were too scared to print our newspapers.”8
Also, some journalists feared printing in Rwanda could pose problems for their own safety, like Patrick. Therefore, to print his weekly paper, he made a 12 hour weekly drive to Uganda:
“Nobody knows what was happening exactly. Because in the printing industry in Rwanda there could be a spy, who knows, someone who reads the story before it’s out. So we went to Uganda every week, to print our newspaper. We kept on doing that for a long time. The government may have thought: they will not keep doing that, because it was really difficult for us. I think they thought: if we don't allow these guys to print the newspapers in the country, maybe they'll give up, they will stop the business. But we kept on doing so.”9
Until 2002, media outlets were all owned by the government (Bonde et al. 2015). Yet, in that year, this changed, as the first media laws were accepted by the government. These laws allowed for private radio stations to emerge, as well as the establishment of the High Council of the Press (HCP) a semi-independent body that was assigned to regulate the media (Bonde et al., 2015). Although this was seen as the first achievement to media freedom by some, over time, the journalists in exile stated the grip of the government tightened, and the situation became increasingly dangerous. Even the Tutsi journalists indicated that after some time, work became more difficult and risky. Violence against journalists increased, as the government started a new strategy, Jason explained, of “fabricating charges against us [critical journalists], harassing us, imitating us and calling us at night. You know, all the things threatening us”.10
These statements are statement supported by multiple human rights organizations, who signalled journalists were regularly arrested and harassed during that time (Freedom House, 2018; Bonde et al, 2015).
The journalists in exile distinguished several critical newspapers that were particularly suffering, called Umuseso and Umusingi. People working for these organizations were threatened even more, it was believed, and it even became a life-threatening situation for some, François explained:
“When they sold the newspapers on the market, they decide to kill people. They broke the head of a journalist working for Umusingi during the night. He's here, but he's
8 Jason, interview, Skype, 27 March 2019 9 Patrick, interview, Skype 30 March 2019 10 Jason, interview, Skype, 27 March 2019
