In 1972, two rookie reporters of the Washington Post exposed the burglary and attempted wiretapping, apparently on orders from the White House, of the Democratic Party headquarters at the Watergate building in the US capital.

Since then, the series of articles written by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein alleging the complicity of US President Richard Nixon's aides in political espionage has been the stuff of journalistic legend.

Watergate became the symbol of the might of investigative reporting. Although the truth was somewhat more complex, it soon became part of the popular mythology that the president of the most powerful nation on earth was forced to resign because two enterprising reporters showed how he had abused the prerogatives of his position.

A quarter of a century later, the myth remains compelling. In truth, Nixon resigned, not because of what the Woodward-Bernstein exposes contained, but because thorough probes undertaken by several government bodies later yielded evidence of illegal acts committed by the president's aides.

The Washington Post deserves the credit not for toppling the president, but for breaking the story of his aides' indiscretions, putting it on the news agenda, and framing it as one of wrongdoing at the highest levels of government.

Watergate's most lasting impact is perhaps on journalism. It inspired an entire generation of journalists, even outside the United States, it set the standard for what the press can do. Hollywood helped by glamourising the reporters' role. But beneath the glamour was the essential truth: Two dogged journalists following the trail of wrongdoing to no matter where it led them, no matter the consequences.

It is a somewhat romantic notion. But one generation after Watergate, when citizens and governments in many countries are overwhelmed by widespread malfeasance and when it has become obvious that there are too few checks on the excesses of power, there is now renewed interest in the role of a free press and of enterprising journalists in ensuring that officials and institutions are held responsible for their actions.

Catalyst of change

Today, the idea of the press as watchdog and catalyst of change is widely accepted in most democracies, even if only in theory. In countries where democratic institutions are fragile and corrupt, and where the rule of law is at best erratic, journalists soon realise that their role is not just to passively record events.

Because other institutions are weak or compromised, the press has ended up doing what the police, the courts, political parties and parliaments should be engaged in: exposing malfeasance, calling for reforms and mobilising public action against corruption.

In recent years, the importance of a free and independent press has been demonstrated most dramatically in new or "transitional" democracies. In these countries, the fear of media exposure is often the only deterrent to official abuse. In some notable instances, media exposes have compelled corrupt officials to resign.

If they don't, public pressure forces governments to bring to justice those who are guilty of malfeasance. Because of investigative reporting, wrong policies are reversed, extravagant projects are put on hold, and politicians whose misbehaviour has been exposed lose elections.

It is little wonder that the dramatic impact of investigative reporting has caught the attention of multilateral institutions in search of mechanisms to improve governance. What journalists have known all along the importance of the press in ensuring the accountability of powerful institutions is now being preached by experts as if it were an original notion. It is not.

The idea of the press as Fourth Estate, as a check on the excesses of government, is deeply embedded in liberal democratic theory. The importance of freedom of, and citizens' access to, information has been enshrined in laws and constitutions, in some countries, since the 18th century.

Today, on the eve of the 21st century, as the world becomes ever more complex, and the power of big public and private institutions over citizens' lives becomes even more pervasive, the old precepts of a free press and the free flow of information need no reinvention. The problem is that in many countries, whether they are old autocracies or new democracies, these principles are observed more in the breach.

Stringent laws, monopolistic media ownership, and sometimes brute force seriously hinder the ability of the press to be an effective watchdog. In 1998, 24 journalists were killed because of their work. In addition, 77 journalists were in prison in 1999, some of them for more than 10 years, because authorities were displeased with their reporting.

But state controls are not the only constraints. Serious reporting is difficult to sustain in media markets that put a premium on the shallow and the sensational. In many newsrooms, even in affluent countries, tight budgets do not allow for the investment in time and resources that investigative journalism requires.

Moreover, in many countries, journalists do not have the experience and the training to do in-depth reporting. Or even if they did, the pecuniary and political interests of media owners limit the freedom of journalists to conduct exposes. The obstacles to investigative journalism, both in terms of state control and of anarchic media markets, remain formidable. In fact, the astonishing thing is that this kind of reporting thrives at all, sometimes in the least hospitable of environments.

Democracy's watchdog

The most instructive case is that of Latin America, where it is widely acknowledged that sustained investigative reporting on corruption, human rights violations and other forms of wrongdoing has helped build a culture of accountability in government.

There, media exposure, particularly of corruption in high places, has brought down governments. The downfall of two presidents, Brazil's Fernando Collor de Mello and Venezuela's Carlos Andres Perez, was due largely to investigative reporting on their complicity in corrupt deals.

In 1992, Brazilian magazines printed exposes on de Mello's involvement, through his campaign treasurer, in the extortion of bribes from companies in exchange for favourable government treatment. The Brazilian Congress formed a body to investigate the charges and eventually, the president was forced to resign.

Not long afterward, a Venezuelan newspaper ran articles alleging that President Perez was unable to account for US$17 million in discretionary funds and that he made money by speculating on the local currency. In reaction, the Venezuelan Congress began impeachment proceedings, prompting Perez to step down from office.

Elsewhere in Latin America, the media have raked up similarly damaging charges against high officials. The Argentinian press has found evidence of President Carlos Menem's involvement in financial scandals. In Panama, a team of investigative reporters showed how a local bank with close ties to the government was used by a Colombian drug cartel to launder profits from the narcotics trade.

Such reporting has made the press a credible and prestigious institution that enjoys the public's support and trust. In the fledgling democracies of the region, the press has stood out as the one institution that has functioned effectively and independently.

But this success has come at a great cost. The New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has tallied 117 journalists killed in Latin America from 1988 to 1998. Most of the murders took place in countries where the judiciary is weak and corrupt, therefore unable and unwilling to defend press rights.

Because the courts are dishonest and inept, the killers are seldom punished. Those who wish the press ill - whether they are officials, drug cartels, or insurgent movements involved in illicit trades or the protection of crime - are able to operate with impunity.

It is obvious that at the most basic level, a free press and investigative reporting are possible only where journalists enjoy some protection. Constitutional and legal provisions are necessary, but even where these exist, they do not always ensure that the media can report without fear or favour. It is important that the rights of journalists are upheld by an independent judiciary and protected by the rule of law.

In Latin America and the Philippines (where 33 journalists have been killed since 1986), many of those murdered were the victims of small-town bosses able to terrorise communities because weak states are unable to enforce the law and provide protection to their citizens, journalists included.

That is why it often seems that the press is caught in a chicken-and-egg situation. Its freedoms are not guaranteed unless other democratic institutions perform their functions well. But these institutions are unable to do so because there is no independent check on their performance, in part because the press is threatened and bullied. It is often up to crusading journalists to break this impasse despite the risks.

Without fear of reprisal

Certainly, the job of journalists can be made much easier. In many countries, stringent libel and defamation laws keep the media in thrall. Because these laws penalise erring reporters with prison terms, journalists become wary about doing exposes that could land them in jail. In addition, the prospect of long, expensive litigation and hefty penalties daunts media proprietors who are more concerned with profit margins than public service.

In many countries, truth is not considered a defence in libel, and journalists can be compelled to reveal their sources on pain of contempt of court or a prison term. Contempt charges have also been used to clamp down on critical reporting on the courts.

In September 1999, Canadian journalist Murray Hiebert, then Malaysia bureau chief of the Far Eastern Economic Review , was jailed for four weeks for an[#1] article[/#] that a local judge deemed was derogatory to the judiciary in that country.

Journalists writing articles questioning the official's actions or motives have also been tried for treason and sedition. In Nigeria, four journalists were convicted in 1995 as "accessories after the fact to treason" for reporting on a supposed coup plot.

In Croatia, merely reporting facts considered insulting or harmful to a government official's reputation is ground for a libel suit. There are some 500 lawsuits pending against journalists in that country in 1998, including 130 criminal libel suits with fines totalling over US$13 million.

In many places, politicians file suits indiscriminately, knowing that the mere threat of a court case often succeeds in squelching further reporting on a controversy. Even when reporters are not actually hauled off to jail, they have to get a lawyer, pay bail, attend court hearings and compile evidence to back their case. This is tedious work that takes them away from what they should be doing - reporting.

If investigative reporting is to take off, libel and defamation must be decriminalised. As press groups in various countries have argued, civil suits are sufficient to provide redress for aggrieved citizens. The experience of many countries has shown that stringent laws do not actually curb sensationalism and irresponsible reporting; instead, these statutes have mainly been used to clamp down on serious journalists who expose official wrongdoing.

There is also a need to liberalise other laws, including those that impose strict licensing requirements for newspaper publication or allow the government to seize or close down publications or ban programmes considered as a threat to national security, public order, or national unity.

Although less onerous, such laws as the Official Secrets Act are still in force in many Commonwealth countries and are a real damper to investigations because they make government records inaccessible. In contrast, few countries have freedom of information statutes. And even where there are disclosure laws, record-keeping in many new democracies is in a primitive state and a culture of secrecy still rules in bureaucracies.

Investigative reporting becomes unnecessarily excruciating, and sometimes impossible, if journalists do not get routine access to essential public records like corporate registration, property records, audit reports and disclosure statements of officials.

Procedures that simplify access to such records, instead of making them subject to the discretion of officials, make it easier for reporters to do their jobs. In truth, the requisites for investigative journalism are not difficult to put in place even in the most fragile of democratic regimes: legal guarantees and protection for the press, accessibility of public records, and a community of committed journalists.

Writes Joel Simon, the CPJ's Latin America co-ordinator: While enormous financial investments and strong political will are needed to create an independent judiciary or truly competitive political parties, a free press requires no financial investment or direct government support. All that is needed is for the government to allow journalists to work without fear of reprisal.

Part 2 :[#2] Investing in investigative journalism[/#]

Part 3 :[#3] Journalism of hope and outrage[/#3]

SHEILA S CORONEL is the executive director of the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism and a founding board member of Seapa (Seapa is a sponsor of Malaysiakini ). Coronel's investigative reports on corruption in the Supreme Court in 1997 and 1998 have helped clean up the courts in the Philippines. She will be speaking at the[#4] regional journalist seminar[/#] on Access to Information in Southeast Asia on Oct 21 in Hotel Armada, Petaling Jaya.