Vice deleted critical stories about Saudi Arabia after sponsorship deal

The murder of the critical Saudi The Washington Postcolumnist Jamal Khashoggi in 2018 was the final straw for Vice. After making one video about a camel race in the desert, the media company pulled out of a deal that included several promotional videos for the regime of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, whom security services hold responsible for the assassination. The next video that was planned, about a new Formula E circuit in the oil-rich country, never materialized.

Five years later, there seems to be little left of the moral objections. Vice’s bond with Saudi Arabia is stronger than ever, and (again) there are concerns about whether the media company can still guarantee editorial independence with its sharp moralizing tone. Two freelance journalists confirm to NRC the story she Tuesday in The Guardian told. In accordance with Vice, they had created an article about how the Saudi state contributes to harassing and threatening transgender Saudis abroad. At the last minute, Vice pulled the plug.

Vice was once promising, but finding a good revenue model turned out to be more difficult than expected

It’s barely possible that Vice even exists at all. At the beginning of this year, the once promising Canadian-American media company seemed to have come to an end. The news brand that still embodied the future of journalism some fifteen years ago, applied for a deferment of payment in May. It seemed doomed: the company had previously also implemented several rounds of layoffs and cutbacks. Dismissed employees waited in vain for the salary they were entitled to according to the severance package. The Dutch-language site, on which international and local productions are posted, survived the rounds of cutbacks and is currently still up and running.

Cannibalistic warlords

Vice started in 1994 in Montreal, Canada as a free punk magazine and gained popularity among millennials with stories about art, sex and drugs. Once established in New York, it also developed a more serious side, with numerous distinctive documentaries. Vice reported on the spot about cannibalistic warlords in Liberia, gained exclusive access to the Islamic State caliphate, and even made a three-part report from North Korea. “The goal was to visit places that ‘didn’t matter’, it’s a miracle none of our reporters ever died,” wrote former Vice documentary filmmaker Daniel Hernandez. recently on Xformerly Twitter.

Nearly thirty years after its founding, only a takeover could save Vice, but the 5.7 billion dollar value quoted in 2017 had almost completely evaporated. Ultimately, an offer of $ 350 million from investment fund Fortress Investment Group, which loaned Vice hundreds of millions of dollars in 2019, turned out to be enough to take over the media company.

While Vice frantically searched for a buyer, it also scanned the market for other lucrative deals. And where there is a hunger for capital, there is often also Saudi Arabia: Vice accepted an offer from the Saudi MBC Group, the largest broadcaster in the Middle East. MBC is 60 percent owned by the Saudi state.

The deal was finalized in January. Vice would create exclusive lifestyle content for MBC in exchange for approximately $50 million over the next few years, so it could be read The New York Times. In the cultural district of the Saudi capital, Riyadh, Vice opened new offices, saying it will “expand our footprint in the region while strengthening relationships with key partners in the kingdom.” Half of the thirty vacancies that Vice currently has online are for work in Riyadh.

From the moment news of the impending deal with the Saudis broke out, concerns arose. “I fear that the deal will seriously erode the confidence of our viewers,” warned prominent Vice documentary maker Isobel Yeung in The New York Times. There was no reason for that, her employer emphasized: editorial independence could not be compromised.

Postponed and deleted

On Tuesday, Yeung’s concerns turned out to be justified. The Guardian wrote that Vice had blocked stories potentially displeasing to Saudi Arabia. Freelance journalists John Lubbock and Max Colbert confirm NRC that they signed an exclusive contract with Vice in March for a story about young Saudis standing up for transgender people. It states, among other things, that the Saudi state helps families to threaten transgender Saudis abroad. The story was finished in April, but publication – despite pressure from their contact in Vice – was continuously postponed by people higher up. Eventually they got paid, but the article was scrapped.

Another example: a film by Vice about the Saudi crown prince Mohammed bin Salman was, according to The Guardian first put online and shortly afterwards removed again.

In both cases, Vice cited concerns about the safety of its personnel in Saudi Arabia. Lubbock and Colbert don’t accept that. “Why did they want the story in the first place? We asked for a concrete statement, but we never got it,” says Colbert. Lubbock suspects censorship: “If Vice no longer dares to bring the difficult stories because of a financial relationship with the Saudis, then his alternative image is officially doomed,” he said. The Guardian.

Research has shown that this type of money flows actually leads to self-censorship: prevent preventive bullshit, don’t rock the boat.

Mark Deuze, media scientist

It is not the first time that Vice has been accused of giving up editorial independence in exchange for money. It became clear in 2014 that a journalist had been whistled back when he had written a critical piece about a company with which the media company had a sponsorship deal. He was first reprimanded – and eventually fired. In e-mails that he subsequently shared with the outside world, it appeared that Vice had explicitly instructed him to ask for permission before publishing articles that mentioned sponsors.

Whose money one takes

According to Mark Deuze, it is therefore “bullshit” that sponsorship deals and other external cash flows in the media should not limit editorial independence. He is professor of media studies at the University of Amsterdam and quotes Freek de Jonge: “Whose money one takes, whose ax one chops.”

Nevertheless, Deuze does not believe that Saudi backers have any direct influence on Vice’s editorial choices. “Anyone who wants to invest in Western companies must defend Western values. You cannot then impose a ban on critical stories on a media company. Research has shown that this type of money flows actually leads to self-censorship: prevent don’t rock the boat. Getting into relationships means making compromises, just like pretending to be better than you actually are on a first date. That is actually much more dangerous.”

The fact that Vice opts for Saudi money in times of capital hunger indicates, according to Deuze, that it “has been a long time since” the young and edgy media company is what was once about to conquer the world. “Vice follows a classic trajectory in that respect. First they had nothing to lose, they gained a reputation, then it became a billion-dollar company where men in expensive suits call the shots. Then suddenly you have everything to lose.”