Good afternoon, and thank you so much to VIKES for having me.
When I was first invited to give this keynote, at an event on “Voices of the Global South” and the safety of journalists, I hesitated. I wondered whether I was the right person to stand here, and what I could possibly add to such a conversation when I mostly work from the comfort of my own home – and my biggest upsets involve refereeing spats between my three cats.
But then I thought of my experiences as a Black woman and journalist, first in the UK for 15 years, and more recently in Finland for the past five.
I realised that no matter where we are in the world, our struggles are rooted in the same global system. The forms may shift, the details may differ, but the same patterns repeat themselves, time and again, from one country to the next.
In Finland, there seems to be an overwhelming belief that this country is an island, floating alone in the universe, completely untouched by global forces. But for so many of us, especially those who are marginalised by this society and its people, that illusion shatters daily.
Whenever I meet anyone from outside of Finland, I seem to spend a lot of my time bursting the bubble of the “Nordic illusion”: the carefully crafted image of Finland as a perfect, progressive democracy and a haven of equality.
People often see Finland through a very rosy lens, and in many ways life here can indeed be good. But that does not erase the fact that beneath the surface, things are far less perfect than the narrative suggests.
Despite Finland’s reputation as a model of human rights and press freedom, limits to civic freedoms are increasing here too. Finland is also a country that violates human rights, for example with its continuous failures to respect the self-determination of the Sámi people, its refusal to recognise their land and water rights, and Finland’s ongoing refusal to ratify the UN’s ILO 169 treaty, which would create legally binding obligations to protect Sámi rights.
Finland has also been breaching international human rights law with its “pushback law” passed in 2024, which allows authorities to turn back asylum seekers at the border with Russia if they are deemed part of “instrumentalised migration.”
In recent years, we’ve seen how quickly the Overton window shifts; how what is “acceptable” keeps stretching, inch by inch, in Finland and across Europe.
Attitudes are hardening, hate speech has entered the mainstream and the consequences of hate speech keep shrinking.
Press freedom is declinging also in Finland
Reporters Without Borders recently reported that, for the first time in the history of their press freedom index, conditions for practising journalism are “difficult” or “very serious” in over half of the world’s countries. Although Finland still ranks high in the global indices, but even here, cracks are appearing: journalists face legal pressures, harassment and politically motivated intimidation.
This should be a warning and a reminder that even countries with strong democratic traditions are not immune from rising authoritarianism and shrinking civic space.
We don’t have to look far to see how this plays out in practice. In July 2024, the Helsinki Court of Appeal convicted two journalists of treason. The charges stemmed from a 2017 article and, more concerningly, even unpublished drafts and ideas for follow-up articles. The court ruled that journalists can be held liable for revealing state secrets, even when the decision to publish was made by editorial leadership. National security was deemed to outweigh freedom of speech.
There are also high-profile cases showing how legal actions and Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (or ‘SLAPP suits’) can be weaponised to intimidate journalists and restrict coverage of sensitive topics. But legal pressure is only part of the picture.
Harassment in the form of online abuse, threats and smear campaigns has become a routine occupational hazard. Take journalist Ida Erämaa, for example. After writing a column on far-right connections in Finnish politics, she was subjected to targeted, gendered and sexualised abuse online. When she reported it, the police first told her she had brought it on herself for writing about the topic. In the end, they closed nearly all the cases, citing cost and effort.
The message to journalists is clear: tolerate harassment, or stop reporting. Harassment is not random. It is deliberate, organised, and it has a very clear aim: to silence critical voices and control public discourse.
I know this from personal experience. Online pile-ons erode mental health, feed anxiety and fear and can push journalists away from certain topics.
Growing militarisation and shrinking civic spaces
We often think of press freedom as the absence of state censorship or meddling in the editorial process. But it’s much more than that. Whether a journalist stops writing because of state censorship or because of an online hate campaign, the outcome is the same: stories go untold, and the public’s right to knowledge is denied.
And while journalists are pressured to silence themselves, government priorities are shifting in ways that further narrow civic space. Funding for human rights, development and peace NGOs in Finland has been drastically cut. Trade unions are being undermined. Yet security and defence budgets are swelling.
This mirrors Europe-wide trends towards authoritarianism and militarism. In the EU, Ursula von der Leyen’s policies prioritise massive subsidies for weapons manufacturers and tech companies. In September this year, she announced EU-wide investment plans in military programmes, a ‘drone wall,’ and large subsidies for private security and technology firms.
Across Europe, governments in countries like Germany, France and Belgium are cutting pensions, housing and social services to free up funds for military expansion. Under the guise of “sovereignty,” and “security”, more public resources are being channelled into infrastructures like Cloud and AI.
But these shifts don’t only affect economies, they also reshape journalism. Militarisation and securitisation shrink civic space and limit scrutiny. Journalists who investigate arms deals, surveillance systems, or the extractive industries behind “clean” technologies often face lawsuits, harassment, or worse. And globally, as AI expands, data centres are draining water supplies and fuelling conflicts over scarce resources – conflicts that journalists are risking their lives to report on.
And all of this is connected to the next issue. Because I cannot, in good conscience, speak about the safety of journalists without mentioning Palestine.
For the past two years (and long before that), Israel has been systematically targeting and wiping out Palestinian journalists. And despite unimaginable danger, Palestinian journalists continue their work of documenting genocide, at immense personal cost.
Israel has killed more than 270 journalists and media workers since its latest assault on Gaza began. And, according to CPJ figures, Israel is responsible for more than 16 percent of all journalists killed worldwide in the last decade.
There is no ambiguity about anything here: targeting journalists is a war crime.
Western media, including Finnish outlets, has been complicit in enabling this violence, and manufacturing consent for the genocide from the beginning.
I’ve seen facts taken out of articles or rewritten to fit so-called “objectivity.” But there is nothing objective about it. In practice, it often means Palestinian sources are doubted by default and forced to carry a disproportionate burden of proof, while statements from the Israeli government or army – frequently made without any substantiating evidence –are published as fact.
This is not journalism. And, for as long as I live, I will carry the shame of our cowardice.
I’ve been told I am biased, “an activist,” or “a journalist with an agenda.” I still don’t know what that supposed agenda is. But if believing in exposing injustices and supporting human rights makes me an activist, then so be it. Does that mean I cannot be a journalist?
I think it should be blatantly obvious that, when a state – any state – commits war crimes or operates as a rogue apartheid regime, it is the media’s duty to report on it accurately.
Yet here, it has taken nearly two years for the tide to shift, and even now, the change is painfully slow.
We must stand united
I know this is heavy. I really tried to make this speech uplifting and motivating, but I struggled. Sometimes it’s hard to keep going and I often question the importance of my work, especially when I think of colleagues who are paying for theirs with their lives.
It is obvious that press freedom has deteriorated worldwide, including in Europe. Freedom of expression is threatened by extremist movements, conspiracy theories and fake news. Social media giants are reshaping the media landscape: they drain advertising revenue, while providing platforms for disinformation.
The constant battle for clicks, readers and ever-changing arbitrary algorithms has shifted journalism toward lighter, entertainment-style news, while serious, in-depth and investigative reporting struggles to survive. Without sufficient funding and protection, many media outlets face an uncertain future.
But in order to keep going, I have to believe we can change the tide.
As grim as things seem, there is also resilience, and we can learn from colleagues outside Europe. Across Africa, Asia, and Latin America, journalists have long faced internet shutdowns, legal crackdowns, and physical threats. They’ve built networks, safety protocols, and collective publishing methods.
In Europe, we cannot afford to become siloed. We need to build cross-border alliances and share resources. There’s mutual safety, power and reach in solidarity.
If I could, I would shout from the rooftops, especially here in Finland, that democracy requires more than good intentions. It demands action. Action to protect those who hold power accountable, and courage to keep going against the headwind. And in Finland, where journalists are are a very homogenous demographic, amplifying marginalised voices is not optional; it is essential to strengthening press freedom and defending democracy.
I hope people see what is happening around us not as a reason to retreat, but as a spark to act. We cannot wait for things to improve by themselves.
From Myanmar to Tanzania, from Uganda to Nicaragua, from Somalia to Palestine and Finland too, one thing is clear: when press freedom is under threat, brave and relentless journalists illuminate the world.
As we navigate these turbulent times, I hope we can remember that freedom of the press is not a privilege. It is a necessity. And it is never guaranteed. We must fight to protect it.
Thank you.
Text: Ndéla Faye
Picture: Vanessa Riki
