Gabriela Paz y Miño
Reporter, El Comercio
Quito, Ecuador

You ask me if I think the American press is "too free," "too free for your country and culture," "too free for your taste," "too free for its own good." You want to know if I wish my country's press had its freedom protected the way it is here. Well, in theory it is. Freedom of expression is stated in the Ecuadorian Constitution. The State guarantees free access to public information and the right to write or say without any kind of censorship. My country doesn't have a history of authoritarian governments restricting the press or killing its journalists to silence them. And it is not on the "black lists" of places where censorship is a common practice. Does that mean that the press is free?

Let's see. Last January, during the last Indian revolt four people were shot and killed in confrontations with the military. Several broadcast stations faced pressure to quash the story; a few smaller ones did. In various towns, reporters got threatening phone calls and a group of soldiers even "visited" one of the public radio stations for several hours. Last September, the security guards of a governmental office in Quito, the capital city, detained a press photographer, forcing him to develop his film, after he photographed a protest held by a group of ecologists. A reporter of the same paper was struck when he tried to defend his colleague.

Recently, an Ecuadorian broadcast journalist was sentenced to a month in jail. Her questions about an alleged case of defraud bothered a member of the Congress who had been invited to her TV show. He thought the questions implied accusations against him so he sued her and now her attorneys are appealing.

In my country, as in almost every country on the American continent, what is written in the law (and the way it is written) creates conflicts between the citizen's individual right of privacy—including public figures—and the people's right to be informed about public matters. The same law that, in theory, protects the free speech has obstacles for it. A short phrase in the Constitution regarding "objective, truthful, plural and opportune information" gives the government a tool to try to press the independent media to censor material, especially in time of war or internal revolts.

Preserving "the values of the community" is a constitutional limit. And according to the Constitution, Ecuadorian journalists have the right to express and give their opinion through any mass media "without damage to the responsibilities anticipated in the law." (Which means that, in case of a suit, they will be treated as any other person and eventually end up in jail.)

An open law creates a stronger press. In contrast, tricks and vacuums are usually reflected in obstacles on journalist's jobs, especially when it has to do with investigative reports. The pressure can have many faces. For example, a government official can refuse to talk with a journalist if he doesn't like her and a government office can hold information even if it's in public files. So even if freedom of expression is a statement in the Ecuadorian Constitution, that doesn't mean that the press in my country is completely free.

Freedom of expression is also stated in the U.S. Constitution. This country has a tradition of independent journalism and the First Amendment protects journalists and the media, even in cases in which what they said or wrote was proven to be partially wrong. In several cases, when freedom of expression was jeopardized, the Supreme Court upheld First Amendment Rights, allowing the press to do its job, even when it was in direct confrontation with those in power.

Journalists here probably don't face the same daily pressures or threats that journalists face in other places of the world. Does that mean that the press of this country is free? Let's see. A few days after the terrorist attacks of September 11th in New York and Washington, White House spokesman, Ari Fleischer asked journalists to "watch what they say and watch what they do," after the host of a late night talk show said the plane hijackers were not cowards but warriors. In the last three months, at least three columnists were fired in different places of the country because of their dissenting opinions and President George Bush warned this country that many things about this war will never be known.

Recently, the president's national security adviser, Condoleezza Rice, because of security reasons, urged networks to "exercise judgment" and not to air taped broadcasts by Bin Laden spokesmen in their entirety (and some networks agreed). Print media were asked to edit Bin Laden, too. Angered by leaks, President Bush threatened to restrict the release of war-related information to only eight members of Congress, only a few days after the military campaign against Afghanistan started. Military briefings were also reduced.

The First Amendment is certainly a huge umbrella that protects the media and gives journalists a lot of room to do their work. Being a journalist in the United States is probably less scary than being a journalist in my country. And with that I don't mean it is easier or demands less effort or professionalism. (The level of excellence, but also the practice—new for me and not common in my country—of consulting lawyers before running certain stories in order to avoid being sued, showed me that the First Amendment is not a free license to do bad journalism.) But the terrorist attacks and this new war has put the independent press in a different light, that, from my perspective, go beyond what is written in the Constitution. So, in this new war scenario, where many civil freedoms (including the freedom of expression) are being restricted, your questions seem harder to answer.

Five months ago, I came to this country eager to learn what it is like to work with guaranteed protection of the freedom to speak, ask and write. Because of so many examples about excellent investigative journalism pieces published in this country I was sure this was the right place. My fellowship at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer coincided with a tough moment for the U.S. press now that it is caught between the need to inform the public, a national wave of patriotism and the secrets of this "new type of war." Through this time, I got mixed messages. I feel almost daily delight, listening to the remarkable job of the journalists of the public radio station that keeps an independent line in each one of its reports. I enjoy the pieces, in different papers of the country, that make public and open debate and dissent stronger. I learn about good journalism in all the reports that approach "the enemy" from all its complex faces and beyond the simple concept of the "evil doer". But I also see journalists not making enough effort to divide the government's interests from the need of the public to be informed. I have watched flags, logos and patriotic songs framing TV reports. I listen to journalists talking about "us" when referring to its country in war. I learn about the head of a network applying a veiled censorship to his journalists.

They say that in times of war the truth is the first casualty. But I know that it has often been in times of war when the U.S. press has shown its independence. The publication of the Pentagon Papers was a victory of the First Amendment. But, overall, it was a victory of the independent press' tenacity.

Tom Gutting, former columnist for the Texas City Sun who was fired after he criticized Bush's leadership quality, wrote after the incident, "America is under a microscope more than ever and that means it is more important than ever to adhere to our ideals." I guess he is right. I guess this country is under a microscope and its press is too. And that is why I think the question now is not if the U.S. is "too free," but if it is free enough to keep its well-deserved reputation of independence and excellence.