“You must care and be angry. A good journalist should be constantly angry. You can’t get used to or accept the absurdities.”
This is the philosophy of Dilyana Zhelyazkova—a journalist from Shumen, publisher of the regional news site Radian.bg, and correspondent for “For the Truth”—an independent platform supporting critical and investigative regional journalism funded by the America for Bulgaria Foundation. Outside of Sofia, journalists like Dilyana and her colleagues from “For the Truth” are often the only ones illuminating the work of the authorities and holding politicians accountable for their actions.
Zhelyazkova’s outrage at what is happening in Bulgaria is the reason she has remained in the increasingly unpopular profession of journalism for thirty years. Journalist salaries are low, and the emotional toll of staying true to oneself is high. Journalists in Bulgaria rarely receive recognition, but Dilyana cannot imagine doing anything else. “If you’re afraid of bears, don’t go into the forest,” she laughs.
However, she is serious when she says that journalism also brings a great deal of satisfaction.
What does this satisfaction look like for her? “It is about having a reaction, consequences, and accountability,” Dilyana says. Even modest victories and small improvements, achieved as a result of her refusal to remain silent, are important to her. She feels joy when her articles prompt municipal departments responsible for landscaping and maintenance to do their jobs or help prevent a young person from a vulnerable group from being unfairly dismissed.
Although the truth sometimes prevails, challenges often overshadow it. In small towns, authors of critical materials regarding the authorities face various forms of pressure. Smear campaigns in tabloid media and troll attacks in the digital space are preferred tools for intimidating independent journalists, but sometimes they also experience direct threats. Critical journalists not only lack access to public funding but are often avoided by honest businesses as well. In conversations with potential advertisers, Dilyana is accustomed to hearing: “I can’t advertise with you because I’ll lose my head.”
The language is figurative, but the consequences for businesses would be quite real. Therefore, to sustain the Radian.bg website and pay the salaries of her two colleagues, Dilyana relies on a few brave companies with national businesses and no local dependencies. She herself works three jobs to make ends meet.
According to her, all of this is manageable. However, she increasingly finds the feeling of being alone to be unbearable. She has accepted that she is the only one in the Shumen region conducting journalistic investigations into local corruption, but she is weighed down by the fact that aside from Radian.bg, “there’s no one to report even public facts.” In this culture of silence, the only way to shed light on local injustices or abuses is to attract the interest of a national newspaper or television station—or, as in the case of the “Arena Shumen” venue, an international media outlet.
The indifference of people, whether due to fear or because they have become accustomed to abuses of power, saddens Dilyana the most. It seems that no one cares that the “pride and jewel of Shumen” cost them 14 million leva, yet its roof leaks immediately after the first rains, and the damage to the interior is significant. There is also a lack of willingness to hold both the builder and the local authorities accountable.
“How is this possible? Why aren’t people angry?” Dilyana’s colleagues from the German television station ZDF continuously ask during their visit to Shumen. Germany’s second-largest public media outlet sends an investigative team to the site after learning about the case of the venue from publications in “For the Truth” and in the “Black Book of Government Waste in Bulgaria,” an annual collection of stories about improperly spent funds of Bulgarian taxpayers published by the Friedrich Naumann Foundation.
As expected, neither any local media cover the story, nor do the citizens of Shumen seek explanations from the authorities.
Indifference can sometimes be too much even for a fighting optimist like Dilyana. In 2016, she was on the verge of quitting her profession when a random encounter at a work seminar introduced her to Spas Spasov, the founder of “For the Truth.” Dilyana did not take that fateful step.
“It is very important to see that you are not alone,” Dilyana shares about her meeting with Spas.
In addition to providing an independent platform for investigative journalists in the country, “For the Truth” organizes training sessions and offers legal protection to journalists facing judicial persecution. However, the most significant contribution of the platform lies in creating a community and a network of like-minded individuals who are fighting similar challenges.
An increasingly common tool used to intimidate uncomfortable journalists is their complete disregard. While other loyal reporters receive information without issue, Dilyana has been removed from distribution lists, and her questions during press conferences go unanswered. As a result, she often has to submit requests under the Access to Public Information Act.
“They are hindering my ability to work in every way,” she says, but she has no plans to give up and intends to remain angry for a long time. Her hope is that more citizens will join her outrage and support her in shedding light on the truth.
The cause is worthwhile— the quality of life in our communities depends on it.
The text is part of the June bulletin from the America for Bulgaria Foundation.
