What is freedom if truth can’t move freely? What is democracy if storytellers live in fear,or worse, disappear without a trace?
As a journalist, I understand both the power and the price of truth. I’ve seen how communities open up when someone truly listens, and how quickly fear can shut that down.
With World Press Freedom Day commemorated on 3 May, I’ve been reflecting deeply on what media freedom really means in South Africa today. We’ve come a long way, but are we truly free?
In 1994, our country turned the page on a dark chapter of state controlled media and silenced voices. Our Constitution gave birth to a bold vision of freedom of expression, protected not just for journalists, but for every citizen. The press was meant to be a bridge between people and power, a watchdog for democracy. But rights on paper don’t always reflect the reality on the ground.
Today, threats to media freedom don’t always come dressed in uniform. They arrive masked, as crime, intimidation, digital manipulation, and economic pressure. Community journalists are particularly vulnerable. Often, the newsroom isn’t four walls, it’s a backpack, a microphone, and the courage to ask the hard questions others won’t. Sometimes, that courage costs lives.
In February this year, community radio journalist Aserie Sibusiso Ndlovu and his partner Zodwa Precious Mdhluli from Mpumalanga vanished. No ransom. No goodbye. No answers. The silence that followed was deafening. Their families, their listeners, and the broader media fraternity were left in limbo, haunted by their absence and by the growing pattern it represents.
This past week, a flicker of progress emerged, four suspects were arrested. But that doesn’t bring them back. Their bodies were found in a field, cold and lifeless. It doesn’t undo the fear that’s taken root in many reporters. It doesn’t erase the growing despondency within the media fraternity, myself included.
Because when journalists go missing, we must ask, who benefits from their silence? What stories were they chasing that someone wanted buried? And what does it say about the state of our democracy if the messengers disappear,and the message dies with them?
Their disappearance reminds us that censorship isn’t always a law or court order. Sometimes, it’s a gunshot in the night, a threatening phone call, or an unspoken rule not to cover certain topics. In some communities, crime has become the editor, deciding what can and cannot be reported. That, too, is censorship. It is silent, insidious, and effective.
So again, I ask: Are we truly free when fear does the editing?
As a female journalist in this country, I’ve felt that tension, balancing truth with safety, duty with fear. And I know many of my colleagues continue to push forward. Not because it’s safe. But because someone must. Because without media, there is no accountability. Without community voices, there is no full picture. And without truth, we live in shadow.
But we cannot do it alone. Media freedom relies on a society that values it.
That’s why media literacy matters. We need citizens who question what they read. Who know the difference between journalism and propaganda. Who protect their right to know. An informed public is the best shield a journalist can hope for. A public that defends its press is one that defends its democracy.
At the same time, we in the media must hold ourselves to high standards. We must rebuild trust, confront bias, and create space for diverse voices,especially from places too often overlooked rural towns, informal settlements and community stations. These voices matter. Their stories matter.
We’ve come a long way from the days of newsroom raids. But the work is far from finished. Freedom is not static. It demands care, vigilance, and courage,from journalists, from citizens, and from those in power.
We need stronger safety protections for journalists, especially those working in volatile communities.
We need laws to be enforced, not just written. And we must honour those who’ve risked, or lost, their lives in the line of duty. Not just with statues, but with justice.
As we move forward, let’s remember, the media is not just a profession, it is a public service. It is the pulse of democracy. If that pulse stops and voices like Aserie’s are lost, we must not simply mourn.
We must ask, Who’s next? And what will we do to protect the next truth-teller?
Because the media is not the enemy of the people.
It is the mirror, the conscience, and the heartbeat of our
democracy.
