Questions are emerging more frequently than answers, and twists and
turn are
taking shape more often than straight paths. What Moroccan journalism
is experiencing today is not simply a content crisis or a funding shortfall.
Disagreements among journalists, however intense, should not obscure
what unites them: the ordeal of the profession and the honor of responsibility.
Media truth is not always publishable, and even news, even if it appears true,
may not be free of falsehood or misinformation. These gaps, if not understood
within the logic of professional responsibility, become a trap into which both
the journalist and the public fall. The former becomes hostage to the mood of
the recipient, while the latter demands things that go beyond the bounds of
journalistic work, thereby blurring the gap that should remain between
information and public demand.
Within the cabinets of ministries, decisions are sometimes made to echo
echoes far removed from reality. Some officials have lost sight of the reality
of the conflicts plaguing the media field, nor have they grasped the
constraints facing journalists today. Hence, candor becomes a necessity, not
only with colleagues, but with public opinion and the authorities alike.
What is even more worrying is the fragility that has come to
characterize the media landscape. Journalism no longer shapes public opinion,
but rather pursues its reactions, chasing trends, and undeservedly rewarding
misinformation. Amid this chaos, professional values are
deliberately dissolved, and the boundaries between freedom of expression and
freedom of defamation are blurred. This inverted reality is not only a product
of digital media; it is a late symptom of an old disease that began when
various parties colluded to empty journalism of its enlightening and oversight
content.
Promoting the notion that a good journalist is one who always sides with
the opposition, and that the profession is only noble if it attacks everyone,
has led an entire generation to confuse institutional opposition with absurd
hostility to the state. This has produced a defamatory press and voices
claiming to be activists simply because they have gone through prison,
forgetting that journalists are trained in institutes, not cells.
Amid this fog, international reports have emerged, based on pre-prepared
narratives that paint a distorted picture of Morocco's human rights record.
Criminal cases have become political slogans, and indicators like Reporters
Without Borders have become more of a tool for pressure than a reflection of
reality. All this has occurred in the absence of a professional Moroccan
counter-discourse capable of defending our national narrative with firmness and
credibility.
Hence, the importance of regulating the sector stems. Not out of control
or guardianship, but rather to protect journalism from tampering. In Britain
and Denmark, independent bodies regulate the profession, whose composition
brings together representatives of the state, civil society, and professionals.
These countries are not accused of subjugating the press. On the contrary,
experience has proven that smart regulation protects freedom and does not empty
it of its substance.
But reform is not limited to bodies. Training institutions in Morocco
are still run by outdated mentalities, relying on retirees who repeat teaching
models from the 1990s, while the world changes at a rapid pace. How can we
raise a generation of journalists capable of understanding artificial
intelligence or data journalism if we are still teaching them texts from the
pre-digital era?
Alongside training, the dilemma of media entrepreneurship emerges.
Moroccan journalists live in precarious conditions of resources, rights, and
social protection, pushing them to work for survival rather than for the
message. Herein lies another danger: those who work in dire conditions cannot
defend their independence.
Here, we recall international experiences such as Canada, which has
invested in joint training between companies and universities, and France,
which has linked support to respect for professional ethics. In the countries
of the North, journalism has become a force for knowledge production, not
merely a critical function. What is required is not to replicate these models,
but rather to possess the will to build a Moroccan media industry capable of
exporting and competing.
The fundamental question is no longer: Is the state an enemy of
journalism? Rather, why doesn't the state intervene in regulating the sector,
given that it considers journalism a pillar of national security? The HACA's
experience in regulating audiovisual media is a clear example of the success of
institutional framing when it aims to regulate rather than to impose authority.
But the greater battle is not fought within the corridors of power
alone, but within the public's consciousness. Trust has waned because
journalism no longer expresses people's concerns, but rather agendas or the
instincts of the moment. For some, the journalist has become an activist who
cannot differentiate between information and opinion, between text and populist
rhetoric.
To restore this trust, the function of journalism must be redefined: to
serve the public interest, not to be a means of settling scores or a platform
for misinformation. What is required is to bridge the gap between the
journalist and the "digital tribe" that dictates positions, and to
return to the question of truth rather than interaction.
Ultimately, the battle to restore the Moroccan press's standing remains
a battle of values before it is a battle of
regulation. A battle that deserves to be fought carefully but with
determination, because the stakes are not only in protecting the journalist,
but also in protecting public opinion, information, and the future.
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