How right-wing governments change the law to silence the press

“The first reaction is horror,” is how the left-liberal Der Spiegel described the shocking victory of the Alternative for Germany (AfD) in the recent local elections.

The newspaper pointed to the historical significance of a party that does not draw a clear dividing line from Nazi Germany winning an election by such a large margin more than 80 years after the Nazi dictatorship.

Would Der Spiegel be able to make such a critical assessment if the AfD were in government and had the power to change the law?

The far-right party has long targeted Germany’s established media by undermining its credibility, threatening its funding and becoming a social media superpower to bypass traditional journalists entirely.

“We want to finally pull the plug on this woke, anti-German and manipulative influence,” said Ulrich Siegmund, the party’s parliamentary group co-leader in Saxony-Anhalt, when promising to “terminate” the public broadcasting agreement.

And it’s not just in Germany. Across Europe, right-wing governments have shown how political power can be used to reshape the rules governing the media, weaken independent journalism and make life increasingly difficult for outlets that scrutinise those in power.

And we are already seeing the warning signs here in Britain.

Just last week, Reform UK blocked a Left Foot Forward journalist from attending its party conference, claiming it was “overcapacity” for media applications, despite the party selling additional late-registration media passes for £100.

Other journalists who have investigated Reform were also refused passes, including Michael Crick, Peter Geoghegan, whose conference pass was rejected less than an hour after he published a story revealing how Isabel Oakeshott, the right wing journalist, had privately called Reform mega donor Christopher Harborne “untrustworthy.” The Guardian’s Anna Isaac, who broke the story about Nigel Farage accepting an undeclared £5m gift from crypto billionaire Christopher Harborne, was also refused a pass.

This is the party that routinely presents itself as a defender of free speech while portraying the media as part of an Establishment conspiracy against it.

When attacks become law

Russia provides the bleakest example of what happens when such parties have the power to change the rules governing the media.

Following Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the government introduced laws criminalising what it deemed “knowingly spreading false information” or “discrediting” the military.

The legislation effectively destroyed what remained of Russia’s independent media. Outlets were forced to close or flee the country, while Novaya Gazeta suspended its coverage of the war because of fears the new laws would be used against its journalists.

As Professor Marko Milanovic of the University of Reading wrote: “The freedoms of speech and protest have been dying a long, slow death in Vladimir Putin’s Russia.”

Hungary offers another example.

Viktor Orbán used his parliamentary majority to rewrite the constitution and introduce sweeping media laws. His government took control of public broadcasting while changing the legal and regulatory environment in ways that helped government-friendly oligarchs acquire private media.

Reporters Without Borders estimates that the Orbán government came to control around 80% of Hungary’s media outlets.
The pattern is clear: first, discredit journalists as biased or hostile, then change the laws and institutions governing the media, and finally, use those powers to reshape what the public is allowed to see and hear.

Italy under Giorgia Meloni has also seen concerns over press freedom, including the use of defamation cases against journalists and public figures. Italy has fallen from 41st to 49th in the World Press Freedom Index since Meloni’s party came to power. When the European Commission flagged this in a rule of law report, Meloni accused left-leaning Italian media of twisting its findings. Last summer, the Italian prime minister was caught telling Donald Trump at the White House: “I never want to speak to my press.”

And as for Trump, since returning to office, he has used lawsuits, threats against broadcasters, restrictions on journalists’ access and the power of government agencies to put pressure on media organisations.

Last month, Walt Disney sued the Federal Communications Commission, accusing the Trump administration of launching a “retaliatory campaign” against its ABC television networks over their broadcasts. Trump has repeatedly called for the FCC to revoke ABC’s licences.

Reporters Without Borders has warned that Trump’s administration is not merely attacking journalism rhetorically but reducing the physical and institutional space in which journalists can operate.

“It’s a very basic tactic but a fundamental hit to press freedom,” said Clayton Weimers, executive director of Reporters Without Borders USA. “Just as he wants to control the narrative in print and on the airwaves using government pressure or lawsuits against media outlets, he’s also trying to control the narrative by restricting the press’s access to spaces where crucial decisions are made, avoiding transparency and accountability,”

A politician complaining about an unfavourable coverage is one thing, but when a government changes the law, controls regulators, threatens licences or turns the courts and state institutions against media organisations, the stakes are entirely different.

And what about Reform and its dubious ‘Free Speech Bill’? 

Ahead of the 2024 general election, Reform pledged that a Reform-led government would begin reforming what it described as the “out-of-touch,” “wasteful” and “institutionally biased” BBC within 100 days of the next Parliament.

Its manifesto, rebranded as “our contract with you” rather than a manifesto, promised to scrap the TV licence, which it branded “taxation without representation”. “In a world of on-demand TV,” it declared, “people should be free to choose.”

The party also called for a Free Speech Bill, supposedly designed to protect “personal freedom and democracy,” while promising to legislate against what it described as “left-wing bias and politically correct ideology.” It pledged to put an end to “cancel culture,” “left wing hate mobs” and “political bias in public institutions.”

The contradiction is difficult to miss. Reform presents itself as the defender of free speech while simultaneously proposing to use legislation to combat viewpoints and ideas it considers too left-wing.

In his party conference speech last week, Nigel Farage pledged to eliminate “obstacles” to his plans, declaring he would use a “national emergency” if he wins power. He also threatened to overhaul the House of Lords and how judges are appointed if they stood in the way.

Identifying the judiciary as another potential “obstacle,” Farage promised to remove the judges’ ability to rely on conventions such as the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR).

“Parliament makes the law, judges interpret the law. We will do whatever it takes, and perhaps have to consider how judicial appointments work in the future,” he said.

The ‘national emergency’ tactic is familiar in Trump’s America, where emergency powers have been used to justify sweeping changes to government and the law. Critics have warned that normalising the language of permanent crisis risks weakening democratic norms and giving governments greater scope to exercise extraordinary powers, including over the media.

“In any emergency-power regime, it’s crucial that the ‘emergency’ trigger be carefully defined and cautiously applied, lest the state of emergency become the new normal,” said David Pozen, a Columbia University law professor. “Yet that seems to be exactly what Trump wants – to govern in perpetual crisis model.”

And warnings about what a Reform government could mean for the free press and the laws governing are are also mounting.

In August, Labour’s Bridget Phillipson accused Reform deputy leader Richard Tice of a “chilling attempt to silence a free press” after he sent a legal threat to the Guardian over its reporting on his financial affairs.

The National Union of Journalists has also condemned Reform’s restrictions on journalists, urging all political parties to “demonstrate their commitment to media freedom and uphold the public’s right to be informed.”

 Even Kemi Badenoch warned that the party’s behaviour could offer a glimpse of how it might govern.

“I think you could … [see] what kind of government they would be – authoritarian and using state power actually to pursue opponents is what they’ve effectively been threatening.

“We believe in free speech. We believe in a free press. And yes, of course, that might be painful for us as politicians, but public scrutiny is part of the gig. If Nigel Farage can’t handle difficult questions about his dodgy £5m then he shouldn’t be a politician.”

Farage’s complaints about the media are hardly convincing when so much of the right-wing press has spent years giving him and Reform a sympathetic platform.

But the victim narrative remains politically useful. Reform can cast itself as an outsider battling a hostile Establishment while simultaneously behaving like a political organisation that wants to control which journalists get access to it.

The crucial issue, however, is not whether Reform dislikes Left Foot Forward, the Guardian or any other publication.

It’s what happens if a party that regards critical journalism as an attack acquires the power to change the laws governing journalism itself.

Russia, Hungary and Trump’s America show why that question matters.

Free speech is not simply the right of politicians to say what they want.

It’s also the right of journalists to scrutinise those politicians, and the ability to do so without governments changing the law to punish them for it.

That is the real test of whether a government believes in a free press. And one Reform should be prepared to answer.

Gabrielle Pickard-Whitehead is author of Right-Wing Watch