On November 3, 2025, Kenyan journalists gathered at Sarova Woodlands in Nakuru to mark the International Day to End Impunity for Crimes Against Journalists. The event featured speeches, reflections, and calls to action—but beneath the surface, a sobering truth lingered: impunity is far from over. Journalists remain vulnerable, especially when the pursuit of public interest places them directly in harm’s way.
Eric Oduor, Secretary General of the Kenya Union of Journalists (KUJ), issued a challenge that cut through the day’s rhetoric: “Safety must begin within media houses. That’s the game changer.” His words underscored a critical shift in thinking—press freedom cannot be defended externally if it is not practised internally.
In every newsroom, stories are pitched, angles debated, and deadlines set. But when a whistle blower tips off a journalist about a high-stakes story in a dangerous zone, the dynamics change. The story is exclusive, bold, and potentially reputation-making. Suddenly, the editor wants results—not process. The journalist becomes collateral, entering hostile terrain with little protection, risking trauma, attack, or worse—all for the headline.
Even when journalists choose safer approaches, such as reframing protest coverage from a distance, the threat remains. Increasingly, that threat is digital. Women journalists, in particular, face a new frontier of violence: Technology-Facilitated Gender-Based Violence (TFGBV). Disguised as “gendered disinformation,” this isn’t just trolling—it’s a weaponised strategy to shame, silence, and erase.
If the industry is serious about ending impunity, the fight must start inside the newsroom. Journalists must become their own champions. Editors must become protectors. Media houses must become sanctuaries. That means taking concrete steps to safeguard those who tell the stories that matter.
First, the industry must confront TFGBV head-on. Coordinated digital abuse is erasing female voices from the media landscape. Naming the problem, framing it accurately, and dismantling it through policy and prosecution is essential. As Abraham from Internews noted, newsrooms must develop clear policies for handling TFGBV-related stories and supporting affected staff.
Second, safety must be treated as a prerequisite for truth—not a luxury. Editors should ensure their teams have access to secure devices, VPNs, panic buttons, and protected passwords. Journalists entering protest zones or investigating corruption should never go in alone. Safety protocols must be as routine as editorial meetings.
Third, resilience must be redefined. It’s not about enduring abuse—it’s about refusing erasure. When women are harassed, they should not be sidelined “for their own good.” Instead, they should be supported, mentored, and empowered to lead investigations and shape narratives. Every woman journalist who stays is a victory against systemic silencing.
Fourth, press freedom must be cultivated within the newsroom. It’s not just a constitutional right—it’s a culture. Editors must defend controversial stories. Media owners must resist political pressure. Interns must be allowed to ask hard questions. If freedom isn’t practised internally, it cannot be defended externally.
Fifth, legal literacy must become part of newsroom training. Many editors and managers lack knowledge of defamation thresholds, digital rights, whistle blower laws, and emergency legal contacts. This ignorance is dangerous. A legally literate newsroom is one that survives.
Sixth, journalists must be equipped to handle trauma—both their own and that of their sources. They are not therapists, but they are witnesses. Without training, they risk retraumatising survivors or absorbing trauma themselves. Newsrooms must offer trauma-informed reporting workshops and mental health support.
Seventh, journalists must respond to disinformation with counter-narratives. When lies trend, truth must be faster, deeper, and louder. Counter-narratives restore dignity and reclaim facts. In the war of narratives, accuracy alone is not enough—impact matters.
Eighth, journalism must centre victims as protagonists, not case studies. Their rights, dignity, and agency should shape the story. Civic storytelling elevates survivors as changemakers, not just sources.
Finally, sensitivity must guide every story. This is not censorship—it’s civic care. It means avoiding sensationalism, checking language for bias, and asking: Who does this story help? Who might it harm? Sensitivity is the soul of ethical journalism. A sensitive story is not soft—it’s strategic.
In the end, press freedom is not just about laws and declarations. It’s about how journalists are treated in their own newsrooms. Until media houses protect their own, the fight against impunity remains incomplete. The first republic of truth must be built from within.
