For twelve years working in journalism in Jordan, Muneera (a pseudonym) believed that accumulating experience, training, and adhering to professional ethics were what enabled a journalist to establish credibility. She worked in fact-checking, human rights investigations, human-interest storytelling, and analysis; applied for fellowships and specialized trainings; and embraced a deep conviction that journalism is a fourth estate that protects society from violations of its rights. All of that collapsed, she says, “in a single moment,” when security and political pressure on journalists intensified, particularly independents, and when the Jordan Press Association tightened its grip on the media sphere. Gradually, she found herself moving away from in-depth reporting and investigative work toward “success stories” that offered a refuge from mounting pressure.
The Press Association and the State: Who Defines the Journalist, and Who Is Excluded?
In mid-August last year, the Prime Ministry issued a circular requiring ministries and public institutions not to engage with or invite anyone who is not a member of the Jordan Press Association, including barring them from accompanying official events and visits. The circular stressed that coverage of government activities is restricted to journalists registered with the Association and employed by licensed institutions, citing the Press Association Law No. 15 of 1998 and the Press and Publications Law issued the same year.
The decision was welcomed by the Association, which framed it as a step to “curb media chaos” resulting from the spread of individuals falsely claiming to be journalists on digital platforms. It praised government cooperation in protecting “professional and responsible media.”
For Muneera, the decision had nothing to do with justice. It excluded experienced journalists with clear professional output, some of whom have won local and international awards, not because they lack professionalism, but because the conditions for Association membership are “punitive,” as she describes them. These include the requirement of employment at a media institution that pays social security, while much of today’s media relies on unpaid contributors, even when they are allowed to publish.
Mohammad, who has worked for nearly eight years in data journalism and investigative reporting without Association membership, believes the laws regulating membership “do not expand the profession but narrow it.” He points to the gap between the number of people actively practicing journalism and those officially registered, as well as the ratio of accepted applicants to those who apply. This approach, he says, has subjected him to Association harassment, including placing his name on lists that nearly reached the courts, were it not for the intervention of colleagues and his institution. Although his name was ultimately spared, he remains concerned about the Association’s pursuit of his independent work outside its framework.
Muneera has also suffered direct consequences. Her work has been disrupted repeatedly after official spokespersons refused to cooperate once they learned she was not a member of the Association. Even the “success stories” she relied on to avoid confrontation were no longer immune to rejection.
Under the Press Association Law, a person is not considered a journalist in Jordan unless they are a registered member of the Association. This definition effectively excludes a wide spectrum of journalists: media graduates who are not members, independent journalists, digital media workers, program producers, documentary filmmakers, and Jordanian correspondents working for Arab and international outlets.
The matter goes beyond definition. The law imposes penalties on those who practice journalism without membership, considering it impersonation. Article 12, amended in 2014, prohibits practicing the profession before registration, taking the oath, and paying fees. Article 18 prohibits corresponding with foreign newspapers or presenting oneself as a journalist, imposing fines or custodial sentences ranging from one to three months, doubled in cases of repetition.
Daoud Kuttab, who has spent 45 years in independent journalism, points to a fundamental contradiction: the Association includes not only journalists, but also senior editors and publishers. He asks, “How can a body whose leadership is dominated by those representing owners’ interests rather than reporters’ interests defend the rights of those working in the field?”
Media expert Barakat Al-Zyoud believes the Association’s approach over the past year resembles an effort to control the media landscape under the pretext of preventing impersonation, following the spread of rumors and the unchecked expansion of social media use outside professional frameworks. In 2025 alone, more than 800 rumors or false reports circulated on these platforms. Still, he notes that the difference between independent journalists and institutional employees lies less in core professionalism than in structure. Independents enjoy broader editorial space but less institutional protection, while journalists in established outlets benefit from editorial gatekeeping that prevents major errors.
Security and Media: Self-Censorship as the “Harshest Punishment”
Security pressure represents another dimension of the landscape. One media activist was summoned after midnight over posts about the war on Gaza. The experience heightened her self-censorship, she says, as it has for many others.
According to Reporters Without Borders’ 2025 report, media work in Jordan is subject to strict security oversight, with journalists and activists facing repeated summons, often conditioned on pledges not to address sensitive topics. Daoud Kuttab argues that the most severe impact of these summonses is not the interrogation itself, but the “internal censor” they leave behind, monitoring the text before it reaches the public.
At a press conference in 2022, the Center for Defending Freedom of Journalists revealed that 77 percent of Jordanian journalists had been subjected to security summonses, and that 82 percent believe the government rarely investigates violations against them. Nidal Mansour, the Center’s former executive director, noted that repeated summonses have normalized the practice to the point that journalists describe it as “harmless coffee.” The danger, he warned, became evident when local media disappeared from major public issues such as the teachers’ union crisis and the so-called “sedition” case, eroding public trust.
Website Blocking and Blocking Information
In May last year, the Media Commission blocked 12 news and journalistic websites, some independent and regional, including Mim Maratna, Raseef22, Middle East Eye, Arabi21, Arabi Post, and Sawt Al-Urdon. The official justification described the move as an effort to stop the “broadcast of poison” and “attacks on the state and its symbols,” without disclosing specific violations or outlining appeal mechanisms.
Human rights organizations viewed the decision as an opaque restriction on freedom of expression and access to information, and a violation of the right to litigation before an independent judiciary. The most visible impact, however, was felt by independent journalists themselves. Many now hesitate to disclose the outlet they work with, fearing sources will refuse cooperation or report them. Muneera recalls that the excuse “you are a blocked website” has been used repeatedly to evade responses, halting stories before they even begin.
Law Versus the Right to Know
Alongside the Press Association, blocking, and security pressure, an old tool resurfaces: publication bans. Authorities exert influence over editors-in-chief of newspapers and media outlets affiliated with the army or municipalities, giving them a powerful network over news coverage. Prosecutors resort to publication bans in public interest cases involving corruption and crime, as well as cases such as the “sedition” affair, the 2025 methanol poisoning incident that killed nine people and injured fifty, and the leaked recordings of the former Public Security Director in 2022, among others.
Legal expert Hamada Abu Najmeh notes that Article 15 of the Constitution guarantees freedom of the press within the limits of the law, and that publication is the rule, not the exception. When publication bans become widespread, vague, or open-ended, they turn into tools for disabling the media. Paragraph four of the same article prohibits suspending newspapers except by clear judicial order, including functional, not only material, suspension, while paragraph five limits censorship to specific exceptional cases tied to public safety and national defense. Any practice exceeding these bounds disrupts the balance between public order and society’s right to know.
Abu Najmeh stresses that journalists should verify the source of a publication ban and distinguish between non-binding verbal or administrative instructions and binding judicial decisions. If a ban is excessive or out of context, it may be challenged through legal and professional channels. Accuracy, transparent sourcing, and avoiding defamation remain the first line of defense against prosecution.
Tightening Control Is Not a Jordanian Exception
What independent journalism faces in Jordan does not occur in isolation. In recent years, shrinking media spaces and expanding tools of formal and informal control have coincided across the region and globally.
According to the 2025 World Press Freedom Index by Reporters Without Borders, more than half of the Middle East and North Africa countries saw declines in media freedom scores, not only through traditional security restrictions, but through regulatory, fiscal, and union-based legislation that excludes independent workers and grants governments the power to reshape the media field. Reports by the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) in 2024 and 2025 documented increases in security summonses, publication bans, website blocking, and restrictions on press accreditation for independent correspondents, with particular focus on Jordan, Egypt, and Gulf states.
One key shift, according to Freedom House’s 2025 report on media freedoms, has been the move from direct censorship to “soft censorship” through a mix of security pressure, advertising market control, and stripping non-affiliated journalists of union legitimacy. UNESCO’s 2024 report on journalist safety recorded a rise in the use of charges such as “spreading rumors” and “undermining the reputation of the state” to justify prosecution, phrases common in Jordan and the region.
In the Gulf, a more “institutionalized” approach has emerged, with some countries establishing new media regulatory bodies combining licensing, accreditation, and oversight, merging traditional journalism and digital platforms under a single supervisory umbrella. In Egypt, recent years have seen media consolidation and intertwined public and private ownership, leading to the disappearance of wide independent outlets and a decline in investigative journalism.
Regionally, funding has also become increasingly difficult. Independent platforms that once relied on partnerships, international grants, or digital advertising now face what resembles a “double siege”: political pressure on one hand and resource depletion on the other. The result is often journalists exiting the profession, turning to regional or international markets, or shifting to less controversial topics, as Muneera did.
Against this backdrop, the future of independent journalism in Jordan appears suspended between a union grip that narrows access to the profession rather than expanding it; security pressures that cultivate self-censorship deeper than any official oversight; blocked sources and platforms; publication bans that withhold information from the public; and a regional and international environment trending toward contraction rather than expansion of media space. At the center stands the journalist, especially the independent one, questioning the boundaries of their profession and rights, and the ability of the media to fulfill its watchdog role in a society that needs it now more than ever.
