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The Guardian
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Kept fighting despite the odds': the Russian journalists who risked everything to report the truth
In the fall of 2021, the director Julia Loktev traveled from her Brooklyn home to Moscow, with the intent to film some friends under pressure. That summer, the Russian government had cracked down on the remaining independent media in the country, designating outlets and journalists it found irksome as 'foreign agents'. Loktev, who moved to the US from the Soviet Union at age nine, had several journalist friends now required to submit detailed financial reports to the government and affix an all-caps disclaimer to any output, be it an article or an Instagram post of their cat, declaring it the work of a foreign agent. Loktev began shadowing her friend Anna Nemzer, a host on the country's only remaining independent news channel, TV Rain (Dozhd, in Russian), which was on the growing list of 'foreign agents' meant to chill any press critical of Vladimir Putin's regime. She was particularly interested in Sonya Groysman and Olga Churakova, two female journalists in their 20s who, with youthful gusto, started the podcast Hi, You're a Foreign Agent to document how their new notoriety affected their lives. 'I thought I was making a film about these young journalists who were dealing with this. I thought it was going to be called The Lives of Foreign Agents,' Loktev recalled recently. 'I thought I was making a film about people trying to figure out how you live in a country where you oppose the government. How long can you keep working? How do you keep fighting when you live under a regime you oppose?' Instead, Loktev's film, My Undesirable Friends: Part One – Last Air in Moscow, became a record of Russian independent media's last gasps under Putin, a time capsule of a world that no longer exists. Loktev tells us so in the opening minutes of this astonishing five-hour film (now playing in theaters, with a break between chapters 1-3 and 4-5): 'The world you are about to see no longer exists,' she says over footage of bright storefronts in Moscow. 'None of us knew what was about to happen.' In February 2022, four months after Loktev started filming, Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, a shock even to the clear-eyed journalists who had reported on Putin's mobilization of troops in the days and weeks prior. Within a week, much of the country's civil society and independent press fled. The first chapter of My Undesirable Friends, filmed in October 2021, ends with a chilling note: every person you just saw now lives in exile. Much of My Undesirable Friends thus plays out like a thriller, with characters trying to figure out their next move with what we know to be limited time. On some level, they know it, too, even if they do not yet believe it. 'A year from now, we'll remember October 2021 as Eden,' Groysman tells Loktev in the first chapter. 'In a year, half your characters won't be in Russia, and someone will certainly end up in jail.' Most of the independent journalists Loktev followed are young women just old enough to remember a time when Russian society was freer, and are loth to let it go without a fight. At one point, Groysman shows the camera a bunch of magazines that she kept from 2012, her senior year of high school, that support LGBTQ+ rights or bolster the late opposition leader Alexei Navalny or encourage dissent, all unimaginable a decade later. Groysman and Churakova form part of a tight core of journalists, across a handful of remaining outlets, who anchor the film with disarming warmth and humor; in one scene, as Loktev films Groysman folding laundry at her unsettled Moscow apartment, the latter jokingly chastises: 'An American journalist is digging through Russian dirty laundry!' The two podcast hosts overlap with Ksenia Mironova, a fellow journalist whose fiance, Ivan Safronov, was indefinitely jailed on trumped-up charges after he investigated Russian defense contracts. (Safronov was sentenced to 22 years in prison in September 2022, a sham verdict meant to threaten journalists.) Mironova calmly recounts how the authorities upended their apartment in the raid that took Safronov away – a terrifying possibility within a dark range of common intimidation tactics. 'Some of our characters have been searched, some of their places were bugged,' said Loktev. 'They were constantly afraid of when they would have to leave, or when they would have to stop working or worse, when they would be arrested.' Nevertheless, they keep working. Mironova keeps reporting, even as she breaks when sending care packages to Safronov that will almost certainly never reach him. So do Irina Dolinina and Alesya Marokhovskaya, even after their studio is bugged and they lose their rare trial contesting the foreign agents label. So does Elena Kostyuchenko, an exceptionally daring reporter for the storied investigative outlet Novaya Gazeta, even after several of her colleagues have been killed; at the outset of the invasion, she manages to slip into Ukraine. So does Nemzer, the host of a short-lived TV Rain program called Who's Got the Power? on civil society leaders, even as the noose tightens on free speech in the country. Just before going on air with her university thesis adviser to talk about the detention of her parents' friend, an academic also designated a 'foreign agent', Nemzer reflects on the surreality of the collapse in real time: 'It's this constant attempt, on one hand, not to panic or become hysterical – everything is OK, everything is OK. On the other hand, you can't allow yourself to get used to this.' Again and again, each journalist tries to articulate the strange cognitive dissonance of life going on as the society you knew crumbles. There are several scenes of warm camaraderie – birthday parties, group dinners, New Year's wishes for a better year in 2022 that now feel haunted. Frank conversation of daunting opposition and unbelievable risks are mixed with references to Harry Potter – Putin makes an easy comparison to Voldemort – and Instagram trends. What is an acute crisis to independent journalists seems minor to many other Russians – Michelin-star restaurants open in Moscow, cafes are full. Several have relatives who are not as critical of the regime; Marokhovskaya must hide her girlfriend from her conservative family. As a sociologist tells Groysman: 'This feeling that we're in a state of war, and everyone around us is not, is typical for totalitarian regimes.' It is hard, as an American writer, not to see reflections in the current US administration, which has made moves strikingly, chillingly similar to Putin. 'When I was making this, it felt like something that happens over there,' said Loktev. 'And just in the last six months, it's startling how many things in the film are being echoed here.' Journalists kicked out of the presidential press pool in favor of uncritical sycophants. Universities cowed and sanctioned. The firing of the Bureau of Labor Statistics chief over unflattering data, the erasure of Trump's impeachments from the Smithsonian, the purging of the Kennedy Center board – all mirror actions taken by the Putin regime. 'We're experiencing something we have not experienced before, and we don't know how to deal with it,' said Loktev of the US. 'We go outside, there's nice cafes, life looks normal. And meanwhile, men in hooded masks are snatching people into unmarked vans.' The dissonance coursing through Loktev's film – so much calm, amid so much catastrophe – is 'how life looks when this happens. That is how life looks under an authoritarian regime. It's just not how we imagine it.' For Loktev's subjects, life and work are inextricable; both cratered abruptly after the state shut down TV Rain and other outlets, threatening criminal penalties. As captured in the final chapter, most fled that night, hopping on the next available flight – to Istanbul, to Tbilisi, to Mongolia – with whatever they could pack in two hours. Loktev stayed one extra day, to make sure her footage uploaded to the cloud, in case her drives were confiscated. She is at work on Part Two, titled Exile, which picks up two days after the mass exodus, as her subjects continue to work from the US and Europe, trying to report honestly on Russia for Russian audiences. In the third chapter, in late December 2021, Nemzer acknowledges how futile that task could be, even before the disastrous invasion. In a commemorative year-end video for TV Rain, she recalls a year spent asking human rights activists why they keep working when they're persecuted; asking lawyers why they keep going to court when it's rigged; asking journalists why they keep investigating when exposure changes nothing. The answer, always, was to create a record of truth. 'Sometimes I ask myself, 'God, what am I doing?'' she says. 'I have one answer. If all these people are creating a record, then I'm going to try too.' My Undesirable Friends stands as its own staggering record, of people 'who kept fighting despite the odds, who were continuing to speak the truth', said Loktev. 'They kept doing this even as they were named foreign agents, even as they risked arrest. They just kept doing it.' My Undesirable Friends will show at Film Forum in New York City from 15 August with a UK date to be announced This article was amended on 15 August 2025. A previous version erroneously stated that Ivan Safronov was sentenced to 24 years in prison. He was sentenced to 22 years.
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Kept fighting despite the odds': the Russian journalists who risked everything to report the truth
In the fall of 2021, the director Julia Loktev traveled from her Brooklyn home to Moscow, with the intent to film some friends under pressure. That summer, the Russian government had cracked down on the remaining independent media in the country, designating outlets and journalists it found irksome as 'foreign agents'. Loktev, who moved to the US from the Soviet Union at age nine, had several journalist friends now required to submit detailed financial reports to the government and affix an all-caps disclaimer to any output, be it an article or an Instagram post of their cat, declaring it the work of a foreign agent. Loktev began shadowing her friend Anna Nemzer, a host on the country's only remaining independent news channel, TV Rain (Dozhd, in Russian), which was on the growing list of 'foreign agents' meant to chill any press critical of Vladimir Putin's regime. She was particularly interested in Sonya Groysman and Olga Churakova, two female journalists in their 20s who, with youthful gusto, started the podcast Hi, you're a foreign agent to document how their new notoriety impacted their lives. 'I thought I was making a film about these young journalists who were dealing with this. I thought it was going to be called 'The Lives of Foreign Agents,'' Loktev recalled recently. 'I thought I was making a film about people trying to figure out how you live in a country where you oppose the government. How long can you keep working? How do you keep fighting when you live under a regime you oppose?' Instead, Loktev's film, My Undesirable Friends: Part One — Last Air in Moscow, became a record of Russian independent media's last gasps under Putin, a time capsule of a world that no longer exists. Loktev tells us so in the opening minutes of this astonishing five-hour film (now playing in theaters, with a break between chapters 1-3 and 4-5): 'The world you are about to see no longer exists,' she says over footage of bright storefronts in Moscow. 'None of us knew what was about to happen.' In February 2022, four months after Loktev started filming, Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, a shock even to the clear-eyed journalists who had reported on Putin's mobilization of troops in the days and weeks prior. Within a week, much of the country's civil society and independent press fled. The first chapter of My Undesirable Friends, filmed in October 2021, ends with a chilling note: every person you just saw now lives in exile. Much of My Undesirable Friends thus plays out like a thriller, with characters trying to figure out their next move with what we know to be limited time. On some level, they know it, too, even if they do not yet believe it. 'A year from now, we'll remember October 2021 as Eden,' Groysman tells Loktev in the first chapter. 'In a year, half your characters won't be in Russia, and someone will certainly end up in jail.' Most of the independent journalists Loktev followed are young women just old enough to remember a time when Russian society was freer, and are loathe to let it go without a fight. At one point, Groysman shows the camera a bunch of magazines that she kept from 2012, her senior year of high school, that support LGBTQ+ rights or bolster the late opposition leader Alexei Navalny or encourage dissent, all unimaginable a decade later. Groysman and Churakova form part of a tight core of journalists, across a handful of remaining outlets, who anchor the film with disarming warmth and humor; in one scene, as Loktev films Groysman folding laundry at her unsettled Moscow apartment, the latter jokingly chastises: 'An American journalist is digging through Russian dirty laundry!' The two podcast hosts overlap with Ksenia Mironova, a fellow journalist whose fiance, Ivan Safronov, was indefinitely jailed on trumped-up charges after he investigated Russian defense contracts. (Safronov was sentenced to 24 years in prison in September 2022, a sham verdict meant to threaten journalists.) Mironova calmly recounts how the authorities upended their apartment in the raid that took Safronov away – a terrifying possibility within a dark range of common intimidation tactics. 'All of our characters have been searched, some of their places were bugged,' said Loktev. 'They were constantly afraid of when they would have to leave, or when they would have to stop working or worse, when they would be arrested.' Nevertheless, they keep working. Mironova keeps reporting, even as she breaks when sending care packages to Safronov that will almost certainly never reach him. So do Irina Dolinina and Alesya Marokhovskaya, even after their studio is bugged and they lose their rare trial contesting the foreign agents label. So does Elena Kostyuchenko, an exceptionally daring reporter for the storied investigative outlet Novaya Gazeta, even after several of her colleagues have been killed; at the outset of the invasion, she manages to slip into Ukraine. So does Nemzer, the host of a short-lived TV Rain program called 'Who's Got the Power?' on civil society leaders, even as the noose tightens on free speech in the country. Just before going on air with her university thesis advisor to talk about the detention of her parents' friend, an academic also designated a 'foreign agent', Nemzer reflects on the surreality of the collapse in real time: 'It's this constant attempt, on one hand, not to panic or become hysterical – everything is OK, everything is OK. On the other hand, you can't allow yourself to get used to this.' Again and again, each journalist tries to articulate the strange cognitive dissonance of life going on as the society you knew crumbles. There are several scenes of warm camaraderie – birthday parties, group dinners, New Year's wishes for a better year in 2022 that now feel haunted. Frank conversation of daunting opposition and unbelievable risks are mixed with references to Harry Potter – Putin makes an easy comparison to Voldemort – and Instagram trends. What is an acute crisis to independent journalists seems minor to many other Russians – Michelin-star restaurants open in Moscow, cafes are full. Several have relatives who are not as critical of the regime; Marokhovskaya must hide her girlfriend from her conservative family. As a sociologist tells Groysman: 'This feeling that we're in a state of war, and everyone around us is not, is typical for totalitarian regimes.' It is hard, as an American writer, not to see reflections in the current US administration, which has made moves strikingly, chillingly similar to Putin. 'When I was making this, it felt like something that happens over there,' said Loktev. 'And just in the last six months, it's startling how many things in the film are being echoed here.' Journalists kicked out of the presidential press pool in favor of uncritical sycophants. Universities cowed and sanctioned. The firing of the Bureau of Labor Statistics chief over unflattering data, the erasure of Trump's impeachments from the Smithsonian, the purging of the Kennedy Center board – all mirror actions taken by the Putin regime. 'We're experiencing something we have not experienced before, and we don't know how to deal with it,' said Loktev of the US. 'We go outside, there's nice cafes, life looks normal. And meanwhile, men in hooded masks are snatching people into unmarked vans.' The dissonance coursing through Loktev's film – so much calm, amid so much catastrophe – is 'how life looks when this happens. That is how life looks under an authoritarian regime. It's just not how we imagine it.' For Loktev's subjects, life and work are inextricable; both cratered abruptly after the state shut down TV Rain and other outlets, threatening criminal penalties. As captured in the final chapter, most fled that night, hopping on the next available flight – to Istanbul, to Tbilisi, to Mongolia – with whatever they could pack in two hours. Loktev stayed one extra day, to make sure her footage uploaded to the cloud, in case her drives were confiscated. She is at work on Part Two, titled Exile, which picks up two days after the mass exodus, as her subjects continue to work from the US and Europe, trying to report honestly on Russia for Russian audiences. In the third chapter, in late December 2021, Nemzer acknowledges how futile that task could be, even before the disastrous invasion. In a commemorative year-end video for TV Rain, she recalls a year spent asking human rights activists why they keep working when they're persecuted; asking lawyers why they keep going to court when it's rigged; asking journalists why they keep investigating when exposure changes nothing. The answer, always, was to create a record of truth. 'Sometimes I ask myself, 'God, what am I doing?'' she says. 'I have one answer. If all these people are creating a record, then I'm going to try too.' My Undesirable Friends stands as its own staggering record, of people 'who kept fighting despite the odds, who were continuing to speak the truth,' said Loktev. 'They kept doing this even as they were named foreign agents, even as they risked arrest. They just kept doing it.' My Undesirable Friends will show at Film Forum in New York City from 15 August with a UK date to be announced
The Independent
06-08-2025
- Politics
- The Independent
Journalist sentenced to two years in prison for slapping police officer
A prominent Georgian journalist has been sentenced to two years in prison for slapping a senior police officer during an anti-government protest. The case has been condemned by rights groups in Georgia as a curb on press freedom. Mzia Amaghlobeli, who founded two of the country's independent media outlets, was convicted in the coastal city of Batumi. She was initially charged with assault, which carried a maximum prison sentence of seven years. However, the judge found her guilty on a lesser charge of resistance, threats or violence against a defender of the public order or other government official. Sporadic chants of 'Free Mzia!' broke out both outside the courthouse and in the courtroom as the 50-year-old was sentenced. She was arrested on 12 January, one of over 50 people taken into custody on criminal charges after a series of protests. Video shared by Georgian media outlets showed her striking Police Chief Irakli Dgebuadze. Amaghlobeli said that Mr Dgebuadze spat at her and tried to attack her after she was detained. Her lawyer told the court she reacted emotionally after getting caught in a stampede, falling, and witnessing the arrest of those close to her. She also said a police investigation was not impartial and Amaghlobeli did not receive a fair trial. In a closing statement on Monday, Amaghlobeli described chaotic scenes at the protest. 'In a completely peaceful setting, the police suddenly appear, create chaos, and surround me with masked officers," she said. "As a result of strong pushes and blows from behind, I fall to the asphalt. Then they trample over me with their feet.' She also thanked her colleagues and the activists for their continued resistance, and urged them to fight on. 'You must never lose faith in your own capabilities. There is still time. The fight continues — until victory!' she said. Western countries cite intimidation of journalists In a joint statement in January, 14 embassies, including those of France, Germany, the Netherlands and the UK, said Amaghlobeli's case represented 'another worrying example of the intimidation of journalists in Georgia, restricting media freedom and freedom of expression'. Gypsy Guillén Kaiser, the advocacy and communications director for the Committee to Protect Journalists, warned that Amaghlobeli's case was 'a sign of the declining environment for press freedom in Georgia and a symbol for the fight between truth and control'. 'You have to decide whether you're going to vilify journalists, criminalize them, and present them as nefarious characters with malicious intent in order to control information, or whether you're going to have a public that is truly free, freely informed and empowered,' Ms Guillén Kaiser said. 'And that is a fundamental question for every country and for Georgia specifically right now.' Leading Georgian officials defended her arrest. Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze accused her of seeking to fulfill a 'directive' to discredit police, but did not provide proof or say who was behind it. 'She attempted to discredit the law enforcement structures, to discredit the police, but she received exactly the kind of response such actions deserve,' he said. 'Those who are trying to undermine statehood in Georgia are the ones who are upset by this. But this will not succeed — we will defend the interests of our state to the end.' Political unrest since a disputed election Georgia has seen widespread political unrest and protests since its parliamentary election on 26 October 2024, which was won by Georgian Dream. Protesters and the country's opposition declared the result illegitimate amid allegations of vote-rigging aided by Russia. At the time, opposition leaders vowed to boycott sessions of parliament until a new election could be held under international supervision and alleged ballot irregularities were investigated. Nearly all the leaders of Georgia's pro-Western opposition parties have been jailed for refusing to testify at a parliamentary inquiry into alleged wrongdoing by the government of former President Mikhail Saakashvili, a probe that critics of Georgian Dream say is an act of political revenge. The critics accuse Georgian Dream – established by Bidzina Ivanishvili, a billionaire who made his fortune in Russia – of becoming increasingly authoritarian and tilted toward Moscow, accusations the party has denied. It recently pushed through laws similar to those used by the Kremlin to crack down on freedom of speech and LGBTQ+ rights. Among controversial legislation passed by Georgian Dream is the so-called ' foreign influence law," which requires organizations that receive more than 20 per cent of their funding from abroad to register as 'pursuing the interest of a foreign power'. That law later was replaced with one called the Foreign Agent's Registration Ac t, under which individuals or organizations considered as 'agents of a foreign principal' must register with the government or face penalties, including criminal prosecution and imprisonment. Members of civil society fear that the law's broad definition of 'foreign agent' could be used to label any critical media outlet or nongovernmental organisation as acting on behalf of a foreign entity. Many independent news outlets receive grants from abroad to fund their work. 'I think that the main goal of the government was to scare us, for us to leave the country or shut down or change profession,' says Mariam Nikuradze, founder of the OC Media outlet. Most journalists still want to stay in the country, she said, and cover what she described as growing authoritarian rule. 'Everybody's being very brave and everybody's very motivated,' she said.
Arab News
15-07-2025
- Politics
- Arab News
Letter to the Editor: In response to Dr. Dania Khatib's column (July 10, 2025)
Ukraine stands for freedom of speech and independent media. However, it is with a bitter regret that we noted the recent publication of an op-ed by Dr. Dania Koleilat Khatib, who suggested to the public several observations which we believe are inaccurate and risk misleading readers on fundamental issues. The publication itself and a range of narratives outlined therein require a response from the Ukrainian side. Ukraine profoundly appreciates our rich and consistently growing partnership with Saudi Arabia in line with the Kingdom's unwavering commitment, in particular, to international law, its rules and fundamental principles. In this context, it would be relevant to make several points thus dispelling Dr. Dania Khatib's publication through the prism of our bilateral partnership with undisputable facts to set the record straight. First of all, the Russian military aggression against Ukraine in no way can be considered as a legitimate deterrence. We believe that invading an independent state, partly occupying sovereign territories, killing peaceful civilians and destroying domestic economies represent a blatant and outrageous violation of the UN Charter's provisions and international law, which all the UN member states are obliged to respect. It would be appropriate to recall all the UN resolutions having been adopted since the start of the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2014 and in the period 2022-2024. None of the 140 countries that unanimously deplored Russian violations ever talked of this so-called 'deterrence.' Secondly, it is vital for me to firmly reject the notion that Ukraine is 'destroyed' or on the verge of collapse, as well as the allegation that a sovereign state being subject to external pressures as a weaker part of the war leading to a hypothetical surrender. Despite the struggles posed against Ukraine, our state remains steadfast in its pursuit of a prosperous future. To demonstrate our resilience, it is useful to remember the crystal clear figures of our economic partnership with the Kingdom during the time of the full-scale aggression. When bilateral trade turnover grows by 17 percent, this speaks for itself not of a country being destroyed but a determined nation committed to resist. We have a joint ambition to develop partnership into the future, which is codified in the joint statement issued after the official visit of the President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelensky to the Kingdom in March 2025. The reinvigoration of the Ukrainian-Saudi Joint Business Council of chambers of commerce and industry, as well as dynamic high-level exchanges between Ukrainian and Saudi companies, demonstrate the high pace of our cooperation. Moreover, we have retained our responsibility as a key food security guarantor in the world by widely supplying wheat and corn to the countries affected. All these facts do not describe the country in ruin. On the contrary, Ukraine is simultaneously implementing national priority interests and sympathetically meeting the dire needs of struggling countries. Far from the term 'destroyed,' Ukraine refused to fall a victim of Russian aggression but displayed incredible tenacity to defend its people and land. The final point is around criticism of weak and unreliable West. We want to make it clear: Ukraine stands against aggression with consistent support of our strategic partner the United States and the broad international coalition of the West. Their political support, economic and security assistance empowered Ukraine to withstand all brutalities of the war. The unity we have seen — politically, economically and militarily — is unprecedented and cannot be underestimated. Ukraine is confident in the West and grateful to all who extend us a hand of help in time of a challenge. Similarly, the humanitarian assistance of the Kingdom plays a pivotal role in protecting our civilians from the consequences of the Russian invasion. The bottom line is that, with all due respect, a contributing columnist may attempt to offer her fresh look on a complex set of issues; however, one principle must persist to be imperative: rock-solid facts, in my opinion, should not be misinterpreted and distorted in a way that undermines the foundations of international law, sovereign state vital national interests and much valuable partnerships across the globe that Ukraine treasures so much. Anatolii Petrenko Ambassador of Ukraine to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
Associated Press
24-06-2025
- Business
- Associated Press
Life on the other side: Refugees from 'old media' flock to the promise of working for themselves
NEW YORK (AP) — Six months ago, Jennifer Rubin had no idea whether she'd make it in a new media world. She just knew it was time to leave The Washington Post, where she'd been a political columnist for 15 years. The Contrarian, the democracy-focused website that Rubin founded with partner Norm Eisen in January, now has 10 employees and contributors like humorist Andy Borowitz and White House reporter April Ryan. Its 558,000 subscribers also get recipes and culture dispatches. In the blink of an eye, Rubin became a independent news entrepreneur. 'I think we hit a moment, just after inauguration, when people were looking for something different and it has captured people's imaginations,' she says. 'We've been having a ball with it.' YouTube, Substack, TikTok and others are spearheading a full-scale democratization of media and a generation of new voices and influencers. But don't forget the traditionalists. Rubin's experience shows how this world offers a lifeline to many at struggling legacy outlets who wanted — or were forced — to strike out on their own. Tough business realities, changing consumer tastes The realities of business and changing consumer tastes are both driving forces. YouTube claims more than 1 billion monthly podcast views, and a recent list of its top 100 shows featured seven refugees from legacy media and six shows made by current broadcasters. Substack, which launched in 2017 and added live video in January, has more than doubled its number of paid subscribers to participating content creators to 5 million in less than two years. Almost immediately after he was cut loose by ABC News on June 10 for an anti-Trump tweet, Terry Moran headed for Substack. Two former hosts of NBC's 'Today' show — Katie Couric and Hoda Kotb — announced new media ventures on the same day last month. 'I think you've seen, really in the last six months for some reason, this whole space explode with people who are understanding that this is a really important way to convey information,' says Couric, who's been running her own media company with newsletters, interviews and a podcast since 2017 and recently joined Substack. Among the most successful to make transitions are Bari Weiss, the former New York Times writer whose Free Press website celebrates independent thought, the anti-Trump Republicans at Bulwark and ex-MSNBC host Mehdi Hasan, who champions 'adversarial journalism' on Zeteo. Television news essentially left Megyn Kelly for dead after her switch from Fox News to NBC went bust. She launched a podcast in 2020, at first audio only, and SiriusXM picked it up as a daily radio show. She added video for YouTube in 2021, and gets more than 100 million viewers a month for commentary and newsmaker interviews. This year, Kelly launched her own company, MK Media, with shows hosted by Mark Halperin, Maureen Callahan and Link Lauren. While they thrive, the prospect of layoffs, audiences that are aging and becoming smaller and constant worry about disappearing revenue sources are a way of life for legacy media. Moving to independent media is still not an easy decision. Taking a deep breath, and making the leap 'If I'm going to jump off a cliff, is there water or not?' former 'Meet the Press' moderator Chuck Todd says. 'I didn't know until I left NBC. Everybody told me there would be water. But you don't know for sure until you jump.' It takes some adjustment — 'At first I was like, 'do you know who I used to be?'' Couric jokes — but some who have made the jump appreciate the nimbleness and flexibility of new formats and say news subjects often respond to the atmosphere with franker, more expansive interviews. Jim Acosta, who traded a CNN anchor desk for a video podcast he does from his home after deciding not to make a move he considered a demotion, says he's been surprised at the quality of guests he's been able to corral — people like Hakeem Jefferies, Pete Buttigieg and Sean Penn. Many podcasters succeed because they communicate authenticity, former Washington Post editor Marty Baron said in an interview at the George W. Bush Presidential Center. Traditional journalists trade on authority at a time people don't trust institutions anymore, he said. Couric has seen it in some of the feedback she gets from subscribers. 'There's some disenchantment with legacy media,' she says. 'There are certainly some people who are frustrated by the capitulation of some networks to the administration, and I think there's a sense that when you're involved in mainstream media that you may be holding back or there may be executives who are putting pressure on you.' Is there an audience — and money — on the other side? Substack says that more than 50 people are earning more than $1 million annually on its platform. More than 50,000 of its publishers make money, but since the company won't give a total of how many people produce content for the platform, it's impossible to get a sense of the odds of success. Alisyn Camerota isn't making money yet. The former CNN anchor left the broadcaster after she sensed her time there was running out. Blessed with a financial cushion, she's relishing the chance to create something new. She records a video podcast, 'Sanity,' from her basement in Connecticut. A former Fox colleague who lives nearby, Dave Briggs, joins to talk about the news. 'It's harder than you think in terms of having to DIY a lot of this,' Camerota says, 'but it's very freeing.' Different people on the platform have different price points; some publishers put everything they do behind a pay wall, others only some. Acosta offers content for free, but people need to pay to comment or discuss. Zeteo charges $12 a month or $72 a year, with a $500 'founding member' yearly fee that offers access to Mehdi. The danger for independent journalists is a market reaching a saturation point. People already stress over how many streaming services they can afford for entertainment. There's surely a limit to how many journalists they will pay for, too. 'I hope to make a living at this,' Acosta says. 'We'll see how it goes. This is a bit of an experiment. I think it's a valuable one because the stakes are so high right now.' A strong point of view is one route to success To succeed in independent media, people need a strong work work ethic, self-motivation and an ability to pivot quickly to deal with changing markets, says Chris Balfe, founder of Red Seat Ventures. He has created a thriving business ushering conservative media figures into the new world, including Kelly, Bill O'Reilly, Tucker Carlson and Piers Morgan. Balfe's clients all have strong opinions. That's a plus for consumers who want to hear their viewpoints reflected back at them. 'I think you need a point of view and a purpose,' Rubin says. 'Once you have that, it helps you to organize your thinking and your selections. You're not going to be all things to all people.' That's one of the things that concerns Acosta and Todd. They're looser, and they certainly say what they think more than they felt free to do on television; a remark Acosta made on June 17, while appearing on Rubin's podcast, about Trump marrying immigrants was criticized as 'distasteful' by the White House. But at heart, they consider themselves reporters and not commentators. Is there enough room for people like them? Todd has a podcast, a weekly interview show on the new platform Noosphere and is looking to build on an interest in improving the fortunes of local news. He believes that opinion can help someone build an audience quickly but may ultimately limit growth. As Rubin did, they will find out soon enough. 'As it turned out,' she says, 'what was on the other side was much more exciting and successful and absorbing than I could ever have imagined.' ___ David Bauder writes about the intersection of media and entertainment for the AP. Follow him at and
