Mexico City, September 8, 2025 – International Day of the Journalist.
Today should be a day of celebration, yet in Mexico it unfolds under a heavy shadow. Journalism, far from enjoying guarantees, faces a form of censorship no longer carried out with scissors or overt closures but through regulations, court rulings, and lawsuits that—draped in legality—function as programmed silences. In a country where speaking truth has historically been a high-risk act, this International Day of the Journalist reminds us that censorship has not vanished; it has simply become routine.
The National Electoral Institute (INE) has introduced a repertoire of rules seemingly designed for democratic modernization. One regulates the “responsible” use of artificial intelligence in electoral processes. The issue is not technology itself, but discretion: by deciding what counts as “responsible,” the authority simultaneously defines what will be deleted or rendered invisible (INE, 2025). At the same time, the INE has promoted guidelines against political violence on the basis of gender. The justification is legitimate—to protect women in a historically hostile political environment—yet its application has become expansive. What began as a safeguard against misogyny is now used to sanction legitimate criticism of figures in power, blurring the line between protection and censorship (Artículo 19, 2025).
Mexico’s states provide stark examples. In Campeche, the Electoral Tribunal ordered three journalists to publicly apologize to Governor Layda Sansores for expressions deemed offensive. In Veracruz, the community radio station Radio Teocelo was forced to remove content under allegations of gender-based political violence. In Guerrero, a content creator was fined and compelled to issue an apology to the mayor of Acapulco. And in Jalisco, local media have reported systematic barriers to covering official events. As whispered in judicial corridors, some magistrates interpret the guidelines with the tacit instruction to “preserve governability,” which in practice translates into restraints on criticism (La Jornada, 2025; R3D, 2025; El País, 2025).
Litigation has also become a weapon. Pío López Obrador is pursuing lawsuits seeking 200 million pesos against both Latinus and journalist Carlos Loret de Mola, stemming from the publication of videos showing him receiving money. Beyond the legal arguments, the chilling effect is clear: placing an astronomical figure on a journalist is not merely a call for reparation; it is a warning to anyone daring to investigate wrongdoing. As Raymundo Riva Palacio wrote in El Financiero, censorship in Mexico is no longer exceptional—it has become routine, a habit of power stretching from electoral tribunals to multimillion-peso lawsuits (Riva Palacio, 2025).
What is striking is how censorship now wears the mask of progress. Official discourse speaks of gender equity, technological governance, or the protection of rights. In practice, what is shielded is the room for maneuver of those in power against scrutiny. Héctor de Mauleón has noted in El Universal that Mexican authorities have mastered the art of disguising repression in the language of legality and security. What once was open censorship now manifests as filters, protocols, and “legal” sanctions that prove even more effective than blunt repression (De Mauleón, 2023).
International indicators confirm the alarm. According to Reporters Without Borders, Mexico remains one of the most dangerous countries in the world for journalism, ranking 127 out of 180 in the 2025 World Press Freedom Index (RSF, 2025). This places Mexico alongside nations with overtly authoritarian regimes, contradicting the official narrative of democratic normalcy. Moreover, these practices fit into a regional trend known as lawfare: the strategic use of law to weaken opponents and inconvenient voices, visible in Brazil, Argentina, and Ecuador. In Mexico, however, lawfare is no longer aimed solely at political rivals but also at journalists and media organizations.
From a psychological and psychiatric perspective, this environment produces collective anxiety. Journalists and citizens internalize that any comment may be reinterpreted as “symbolic violence” or “informational risk.” The outcome is diffuse self-censorship that does not require direct repression because fear alone suffices. If Mexico were a clinical patient, its diagnosis would be that of a society in a state of chronic hypervigilance—always alert, glancing over its shoulder, fearful of invisible sanctions. It is a syndrome of learned silence corroding the public sphere.
The panorama is not uniquely Mexican. Turkey and Hungary have institutionalized similar mechanisms, where judges and electoral bodies serve as de facto censors. Venezuela and Nicaragua implemented it more crudely, shutting down outlets outright. Mexico offers a more sophisticated variant: censorship that smiles in a judge’s robe, speaks in the name of rights, and seals its decisions with a notary’s stamp.
On this International Day of the Journalist, the paradox is intolerable. While official speeches celebrate press freedom, in practice fines, lawsuits, and protocols constrict the spaces for critique. From celebration to silence, Mexican journalism faces its most uncomfortable day—caught not only between organized crime and violence, but also between legalized censorship emanating from its own institutions.
Mario López Ayala is a senior Mexican journalist, geopolitical analyst, and applied psychologist at Phoenix24. His multidisciplinary work bridges strategic intelligence, cyber-warfare, and AI governance with behavioral insight and mental health. As an international speaker and strategic profiler, he has contributed to global forums on democracy, cognition, and digital disruption. Known for decoding power and perception, López Ayala explores narrative manipulation, societal resilience, and global security in the digital age. He is an active member of the United Communicators Organization of Sinaloa (OCUS).
References
Artículo 19. (2025, August 26). Las leyes como mecanismo de censura: Aumento del acoso judicial contra periodistas en México. Mexico City: Artículo 19.
De Mauleón, H. (2023). Crónicas de la violencia y el silencio. El Universal. Retrieved from https://www.eluniversal.com.mx
Instituto Nacional Electoral (INE). (2025). Lineamientos sobre violencia política de género y uso responsable de tecnologías en procesos electorales. Mexico City: INE.
La Jornada. (2025, August 10). TEEC ordena a tres periodistas disculparse con Layda Sansores. Mexico City: La Jornada.
R3D: Red en Defensa de los Derechos Digitales. (2025, July 14). Autoridades usan VPG para amedrentar a Radio Teocelo y periodistas en Veracruz. Mexico City: R3D.
Riva Palacio, R. (2025, September 5). La censura o el silencio como rutina. El Financiero. Retrieved from https://www.elfinanciero.com.mx
Reporters Without Borders (RSF). (2025). World Press Freedom Index 2025: Mexico. Paris: RSF.
El País. (2025, June 29). Sancionadas por tuitear: X, el banquillo de acusados del Tribunal Electoral mexicano. Madrid: El País.