An opinion of ACME Mwalimu.
At every induction, newsroom farewell, and journalism conference, the refrain is the same: Journalism is a calling; a noble duty. We do it for the people, not for the pay. These words carry a ceremonial weight and are repeated as if they are gospel.
However, for those working in the heart of the newsroom, the reality is more sobering. While passion may get you in the door and fuel your fire on some days, it does not pay school fees, buy medicine, or cover the costs of working in a system that routinely demands everything from you while offering very little in return.
The industry clings to the idea that good journalists are self-sacrificing. To expect fair pay, reasonable hours, or job security is seen as a misunderstanding of the ‘spirit’ of the work. This twisted logic is so deeply entrenched that it shapes entire careers. It begins in university lecture halls, where students are taught to expect poverty. It continues during probation periods, where young journalists are told that low or unpaid labour is a rite of passage. Ultimately, it becomes institutionalised in newsrooms, where any attempt to ask for more is met with suspicion or leads to a quick exit.
Overworked, under-equipped, over it
Many journalists who gain experience in the newsroom often do not stay for long. For many, the newsroom is just a temporary stop: a place to learn the basics, accumulate by-lines, and build a network of contacts before moving on to more lucrative fields like public relations, corporate communications, or international development. We lament the loss of talent and complain about the newsroom’s revolving door. However, why would anyone choose to remain in an industry that stifles idealism and offers little in return? We need to stop nurturing young talent only to burn them out, underpay them, and then act surprised when they choose to leave.
Many journalists live in a constant state of uncertainty. They often lack contracts, safety nets, and any means to address delayed, reduced, or unpaid wages. Some are expected to handle multiple tasks – writing, producing, editing, posting, hosting, shooting and transcribing – within a single shift. So many work for 12 to 14 hours without overtime pay or even a decent meal.
Then there is the matter of work tools. In many places, the only thing journalists are reliably given is an identity card. No laptop. No camera. No recorder. No transport. Sometimes not even a desk. And yet, they are expected to deliver polished, high-quality journalism, meet tight deadlines, and smile through it all.
Healthcare? Forget about it. Even some established media organisations with decades of experience often leave their journalists to fend for themselves when illness strikes. If you get injured on assignment, face harassment at a rally, or have your equipment stolen, good luck! You are on your own. There is no insurance, no trauma counselling, and certainly no compensation.
Statutory benefits like annual leave, maternity leave, or sick leave are, for many, theoretical at best. A handful may have access to them on paper, but enforcement is weak, and newsroom culture often punishes those who try to claim what is legally theirs. One editor goes on leave and their phone rings non-stop. A presenter goes into labour and is replaced without ceremony. A reporter asks for sick leave and is told, “Can’t someone else cover you while you rest? No? Then you can’t be that sick.”
Desperation, sponsored by the industry
Media owners are not the only ones treating journalists poorly; society as a whole has embraced this misconception. Journalists are so closely associated with low pay that it has become a running joke. Professionals from other sectors often offer ‘transport refunds’ for covering events, saying, “We know journalists aren’t paid. If we don’t provide something, they won’t show up.”
This perception leads to something more troubling. When journalists are viewed as desperate, they become susceptible to outside influence. Politicians and businesspeople realise they can offer cash in exchange for favourable coverage. Nowadays, exchanging brown envelopes is no longer a secret; it has become a routine practice in certain parts of the industry. We must acknowledge that this issue is not just about ethics; it is also a direct result of financial insecurity.
All the while, those at the top continue to chase the bottom line. Many media owners slash editorial budgets while expanding advertising teams. They invest in flashy rebrands but neglect the issues within their newsrooms. They celebrate audience reach and engagement while overlooking the exhaustion of those creating the content. Journalism has become leaner, but it is also starving at its core.
A profession on the brink
Journalists are told to fix themselves, to unionise, to demand better conditions, to “level up.” While solidarity is important and journalists should speak out, what does that mean in a context where job security is non-existent? What value does having a voice hold when contracts are scarce and the threat of retaliation is real?
Journalism is facing a crisis – not just an economic crisis or one of audience trust, but also a deeper crisis of care and neglect. A profession cannot be sustained by idealism alone, nor can it thrive when its practitioners are overworked, underpaid and perpetually living on the edge.
Passion brought many people into journalism, but passion alone cannot keep them there. Not when the cost is this high and when the reward is so low. Not when dignity is treated as optional. A profession that demands so much from its people must give something back. Until then, we will continue to lose the very people we need to keep journalism alive.
