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Venison and Trenches in Nicaraguan Journalism
By Alvaro Cruz Rojas

The open war between Nicaraguan President Arnoldo Alemán and his political archenemy, Controller Agustín Jarquín, has occupied the front page of the country's news media since the president's assumption of power in January of 1997.

Everything started in 1989. Jarquín, a veteran Christian Democratic politician, who had been repeatedly imprisoned during the Sandinista regime, aspired to be candidate for mayoralty of Managua. Suddenly, an unknown coffee grower named Arnoldo Alemán Lacayo, backed by the anti-Sandinista UNO coalition, won the nomination and became the mayor of Managua.

That was the start of a long conflict that still threatens the country's institutions and the fight against corruption. In 1996, Jarquín was elected Controller and, months later, Alemán was elected president, assuming the post in January of 1997. The personal animosity and verbal war intensified.

Jarquín started a series of investigations that revealed alleged illicit enrichment by the president. The Controller used the news media as a support vehicle to fight the presumed corruption.

In the midst of this open war, Nicaraguan journalists hunkered down in their respective fronts. On one side, a large group of journalists defended the work of Jarquín in the fight against corruption, while another group of journalists attacked Jarquín and defended the president.

This was not unusual in polarized Nicaragua, where the news media in general respond to political or business groups. But a bomb went off the night Alemán and Jarquín met privately to sort out differences. The meeting failed, and instead of news coverage of the event, the top aide to Alemán, Jaime Morales Carazo, made public a list of journalists in the pay of Jarquín. Among them was an unknown name: Ramón Parrales Mayorga. The name was a mystery until the next day when El Nuevo Diario revealed that it belonged to television interviewer Danilo Lacayo Lanzas.

Lacayo denied that same morning that he was Ramón Parrales Mayorga, but by the afternoon he admitted it was a pseudonym that he used for payments for "investigative journalism" carried out "for the good of Nicaragua."

The scandal reached unsuspected levels. Channel 2, where Lacayo had his program, eliminated the space and fired him. The daily La Prensa removed Lacayo from its prestigious editorial board.

A lawyer by profession, Lacayo had broken into Nicaraguan journalism in the mid-nineties after having been presidential press spokesman for Violeta Chamorro.

The Nicaraguan news media in general limited themselves to carrying a news item without editorial comment. The venado, or venison, as bribes to journalists are commonly known in Nicaragua, until then was a secret jealously guarded by the communications media.

Then came political discussion. Many, including the dean of the most important journalism school in Managua, justified the payments and accused the government of conspiring against "the independent press." Besides, many of those singled out started to accuse other newsmen of receiving government payoffs.

As always in Nicaragua, the discussion centered on political causes and not on violation of journalistic ethics. Low salaries served as a justification for many and the surprise left mute an infinity of readers, listeners and viewers. Lacayo currently faces a criminal trial for material and ideological falsities and fraud.

But the Lacayo case has opened a silent and dramatic debate in Nicaraguan journalism. Often, radio and television journalists double as sales representatives and commercialize their programs with the conditions and handicaps this brings. This is the only way these journalists can supplement their low salaries.

The situation is different in the newspapers. La Prensa, the dean of Nicaraguan dailies, has an unwritten ethics code that protects the integrity of its reporters. The other two dailies, La Tribuna and El Nuevo Diario, usually act in the same manner, but there can be someone who, through vice or need, doesn't live up to the norms.

The ex-editor of Barricada, Carlos Chamorro, recently asked in the magazine Confidencial

up to what point is venado the exclusive preserve of journalists, or does it also affect their main economic counterparts: media owners, publicists, and private and government advertisers.

The media owners are often partners in other businesses and don't allow them to be questioned in their news outlets. It is all but a golden rule. There is a rare brotherhood among newspaper owners to not launder dirty linen in public in return for future favors.

Private business operates in a similar way. In 1994, I was a witness to how the most important business group in the country withdrew its advertising from the newspaper where I worked after we published an article on the high consumption of rum, one of their products, during Holy Week. The same newspaper suffered an advertising boycott under the administration of Violeta Chamorro after revealing a series of cases of government corruption and abuses.

The greatest problem for journalism in Nicaragua is there are no forums for uncompromising discussion. However, there is spontaneous introspection and self-questioning. The problem is that even the dean of the leading journalism faculty appeared on the payroll of the Controller's Office and has admitted publicly that he advises various government institutions. And no one appears to want to start a discussion because, as in the Biblical parable, no one wants to throw the first stone for fear of being stoned themselves.


(Nicaraguan Alvaro Cruz Rojas is editor of the Salvadoran daily newspaper Más!)

(May 4th, 1999)

 

 

2000 - FLORIDA INTERNATIONAL UNIVERSITY INTERNATIONAL MEDIA CENTER, MIAMI, FLORIDA