By Agustina Guerrero
Reporter, Buenos Aires Económico
Buenos Aires, Argentina

The American press is not too free. It is too good. I wish the Argentine press were as good as the American's.

As a business reporter in Buenos Aires, I write up to eight stories a day. You may call it production. But it is a low-quality one. With fewer than eight hours to fill two full tabloid pages all by myself, I can hardly ever hear the two sides of each story. When a company makes an announcement, I call its media department, ask for confirmation, and get a couple of quotes. That's about it. Company announcement, company quotes. End of story. The day I came to the Chicago Tribune I learned American journalists sometimes take up to two weeks to write a story. And even when it is breaking news they have to show the editor a balanced story with at least two sides to it. Each fact is checked, double-checked, triple-checked if necessary. There is no way you can talk to just one source and have your story done.

In some of my Tribune stories I even talked to twenty sources. It was a dream come true. My Argentine friends asked me, "How is American journalism different from ours?" Fortunately, both are free. After years of being censored by the government, the Argentine press now can do its job without being banned. But Argentineans, living in a 14-year-old democracy, still consider the judiciary and legislative systems inefficient. So, they expect the press to replace them, playing the role of investigator, prosecutor, and judge.

Many journalists love to play those roles. They forget the main purpose of a news organization is not to prosecute and judge, but to keep its readers informed. "I don't care what your sources say. I know the story, and this is what I'm running in tomorrow's paper." Arrogant as it looks the phrase is common in some Argentine newsrooms.

After almost five years as a journalist, I've reached a position strong enough to tell my editor "no way" when he wants me to write a fake story. But other journalists don't have a choice. Some are just starting their careers. Others need their salaries to feed their kids. So they write whatever they're told to. Stories, thus, usually have the editor's voice but not necessarily the people's.

At the Tribune, editors never tried to change someone's statements or make my story seem what it wasn't. After five months as a Tribune staff reporter, I understand that people count for the American press. When the Tribune's technology editor told me "this is a great quote," he was usually talking about an average American telling his average American life.

In Argentina, the good quotes—according to my editor—are usually the ones coming from government officials, company executives or the publisher's friends. We hardly ever have an average Argentinean talking about his average Argentinean life. People don't seem to count in 'Tangoland'. Besides, in the land of Evita we don't always work as a professional team. In Argentine newsrooms reporters of section 'A' hardly ever share information with reporters of section 'B'. But at the Tribune, 'United-we-stand' was not just a slogan after the September 11 terrorist attacks. It is actually the best way to describe how American journalists work.

The "War on Terror" coverage showed me the difference between having a couple of stars on your team, and being part of a compact, committed, professional one. On September 11, all Tribune reporters shared data and contact information with everybody else in the newsroom. The whole team—and I mean more than 500 journalists—worked side by side for one clear objective: keep the readers informed. It was hard to say who was a business reporter, who worked for the national/foreign desk, and who belonged to the metro staff. No matter age, gender or position, they were all moving around helping to get the facts right.

When the paper came out in print, it was clear what a difference a compact team can make. The Tribune has lots of stars—including Pulitzer Prize winners—but it wasn't their egos that counted that day. News did. I'm not saying the Argentine press is all that bad. Journalists did a terrific job denouncing the massive slayings during Argentina's military dictatorship in the 1970s and pointing out government corruption in the 1980s and 1990s.

But free of government censorship, the 21st century Argentinean press has a new threat: censorship from advertisers and media owners. Stories can be frozen forever if they hurt the owner's interests or the advertisers' pride. So, when someone asks me if the American press is too free, I can only say: 'God bless America! How can freedom be too much?'