World Press Freedom Day

By Alexandra Wake

May 1, 2026

Stop Killing Journalists

A free press is not a luxury. It is a safeguard. It is not an accessory to democracy—it is one of its foundations.

It is something we must actively protect—at home in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand, and everywhere else.

And yet, across the world, journalists are being silenced. Some through law. Some through intimidation. Some through exhaustion. Too many through violence.

Journalists are being killed at an unprecedented rate.

Data from international press‑freedom monitors shows that the war in Gaza is now the deadliest conflict for journalists ever recorded. Since October 7, 2023, more than 250 journalists and media workers have been killed, many while clearly identified as press, with no end in sight to the violence or impunity. [cpj.org]

They were not combatants.
They were witnesses.

When journalists are killed in such numbers, the truth does not just become harder to find—it is deliberately buried. And every democracy, including our own, should understand what that means.

Because the attack on press freedom is not only happening in war zones.

In Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand, the threat is quieter—but real.

Journalists here are not facing airstrikes. But they are operating under increasing legal, psychological, and economic pressure that steadily narrows what can be safely reported.

In Australia, there is no explicit constitutional protection for freedom of the press. Over the past two decades, around 75 counter‑terrorism and national‑security laws have been enacted, many carrying criminal penalties that directly affect public‑interest reporting. Legal experts and human‑rights bodies have repeatedly warned of a chilling effect on investigations, source protection, and whistleblowing.

Journalists are expected to shine light into secrecy—while knowing that doing so may expose them, their sources, or their organisations to prosecution.

Press freedom is not only about whether stories are censored.
It is about whether journalists can realistically pursue truth without fear.

The harm is cumulative—and it is human.

Journalists across Australia and New Zealand are working amid relentless exposure to violence, disasters, extremist material, and online abuse—often with fewer newsroom resources and safeguards than ever before.

Journalism educators and researchers are seeing the effects early.

As most of you know, my research focusses on trauma. I’m all too aware that newsrooms talk about resilience—but are struggling to provide protection. Early‑career journalists leave not because they lack commitment, but because the personal cost is too high.

This is no longer just a wellbeing issue.
It is a press‑freedom issue.

A psychologically unsafe workforce cannot sustain investigative reporting.
It cannot maintain human‑rights coverage.
It cannot consistently challenge power in moments of crisis.

Democracy cannot rely on exhausted truth‑tellers.

At the same time, public trust has fragmented.

Across Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand, many people now struggle to tell the difference between trusted, checked, public‑interest journalism and the endless stream of information—misleading, partisan, or fabricated—that circulates on other media and platforms.

Research shows Australians are among the most concerned globally about misinformation, with large numbers saying they are unsure how to distinguish reliable news from false or manipulative content. In Aotearoa New Zealand, trust has begun to recover slightly, but from a low base shaped by years of confusion in a fragmented media environment.

When professional journalism becomes indistinguishable from unverified content, freedom becomes fragile.

And when trust collapses, authoritarian narratives rush in—often hitting marginalised communities first.

Safety, truth, and education are inseparable.

Journalists covering extremism, terrorism, race, religion, migration, gender, Indigenous affairs, and polarised politics face escalating harassment—online and offline. The result is self‑censorship, withdrawal from difficult beats, and fewer reporters specialising in complex social‑cohesion coverage.

Journalism academics are responding by embedding trauma‑aware and conflict‑sensitive reporting into curricula; by researching the legal, psychological, and structural conditions that shape journalism practice; and by standing publicly in support of journalism as a democratic institution, not a partisan exercise.

This work matters.

It is not about softening the truth.
It is about making sure truth survives.

The future of press freedom depends on what we choose to protect now.

Journalism education in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand is under pressure—financially, institutionally, and politically. Yet students are clear about why they are here. They care about human rights, climate justice, accountability, and democracy. They want to do meaningful work—and to survive doing it.

If we do not future‑proof journalism education, press freedom will become a legacy concept rather than a living practice.

And on a day like today, with journalists being killed in record numbers around the world, that should trouble us deeply.

Because when journalists are silenced—by violence, by fear, by law, or by exhaustion—democracy does not fail all at once.

It erodes. Quietly. Systematically.

World Press Freedom Day is not only a moment to commemorate.
It is a moment to decide what kind of societies we are willing to be—and how much truth we are prepared to protect.

Note on production

This statement was produced with the assistance of artificial intelligence (CoPilot).

That fact matters. AI systems can accelerate misinformation, blur accountability, and further weaken the public’s ability to distinguish verified journalism from untested claims. Used without care, they pose a real risk to trust, truth, and democratic deliberation.

But refusing to engage with these tools is not an option. The task before us is to use them consciously, transparently, and with human oversight—grounded in evidence, ethics, and professional judgment.

Technology does not replace journalism.
People do. And responsibility still rests with us.