Reporting the unknown in Brazil

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As part of the Free to Speak season, celebrating the 75th anniversary of the BBC World Service, Sue Branford remembers what it was like to be a journalist in South America in the 1970s, when many countries were run by hardline military governments.

FREE TO SPEAK <i>Series marking the BBC World Service's 75th anniversary will include</i> <a class="" href="/1/hi/world/7132665.stm">Global poll on attitudes to the media</a><a class="" href="/1/hi/world/7127423.stm">Viewpoints from leading thinkers</a><a class="" href="/1/hi/world/7139622.stm">Focus on media restrictions in Egypt</a><a class="" href="/1/hi/uk/7150108.stm">Multilingual debate:Free to speak</a><a class="" href="/1/hi/world/7136354.stm">Caught in the media spotlight</a> I cut my teeth as a journalist in South America in the 1970s. I was there as the military came to power in one country after another.

I was based in Brazil, where the government was not as hardline as elsewhere. Even so, it was pretty scary.

Just a couple of weeks after I arrived in 1971, I went to the University of Sao Paulo to meet a lecturer. While I was there, the army invaded the campus, firing live ammunition into the air.

Several student leaders were dragged off into black vans.

A few days later a student arrived at my tiny flat in the centre of the city. I vaguely recognised his face but, perhaps fortunately, did not know his name.

He begged me to hide him, as the secret police were after him. I let him in, with considerable reluctance I must admit.

He stayed for a few days and then left. Years after this I was told that he was later killed by the army.

Censorship

Working as a reporter was quite a challenge. The military government imposed a draconian system of censorship on television, radio, newspapers, even song lyrics.

Everyone detested the scheme and sought to subvert it.

At first, journalists would leave a blank space where a censored article should have been printed. But then the military ruled this an infringement of the censorship rules, so journalists would replace the censored news with completely incongruous items.

I would often buy my newspaper in the morning to find whole columns on the front page filled with cookery recipes or poems. For reasons I never quite fathomed, Portugal's greatest poet, Luis de Camoes, was a favourite.

By complete chance, I had stumbled on the largest counter-insurgency operation in Brazilian history To find out what was going on, I often popped into the offices of one of the leading newspapers, O Estado de S Paulo, where censored items were pinned on the notice board in the newsroom.

I found Brazilian journalists extremely helpful.

They wanted foreign journalists to get the information out. There was a great feeling of camaraderie and we often went off for a drink after the paper had been put to bed.

Guerrilla camp

I made a trip to the Amazon in the early 1970s. I had heard that big companies were cutting down trees to create cattle ranches and I wanted to see for myself.

The Amazon river is 6,800km (4,250 miles) longWhen I arrived by bus in the small town of Maraba in the heart of the forest, I found it under military occupation. Hundreds of soldiers were searching houses.

Peasant farmers were being interrogated. Nothing about this had been reported in the Brazilian press. By complete chance, I had stumbled on the largest counter-insurgency operation in Brazilian history.

The army was pursuing a handful of guerrillas who were trying to set up a revolutionary camp in the rainforest.

I had no contact at all with the guerrillas, but back in Sao Paulo, I was pulled in for interrogation by the DOPS, the secret police.

They clearly thought I had received a tip-off and been planning to meet the guerrillas.

Many people, particularly the rich, became very defensive if you asked about human rights I spent a few uncomfortable hours down in the basement. A military police officer, flanked by two soldiers armed with machine guns, asked me the same questions, again and again.

Eventually they let me go, apparently convinced by my quite genuine protestations of ignorance.

Torture

I travelled quite frequently to Argentina in the 1970s.

Many people in Buenos Aires were scared of criticising the military ruleBuenos Aires was a prosperous city, with a vibrant night life, but you could feel the fear in the air.

People were very scared to talk. And many people, particularly the rich, became very defensive if you asked about human rights.

I remember an Argentine journalist taking me to a wealthy, leafy area of the city.

He cautiously pointed to an imposing white building. "That's ESMA," he said. "It belongs to the Argentine navy.

"They're taking leftists there and systematically murdering them.

"Of course, the people who live here know what's going on. But they pretend they don't."

General Jorge Videla seized power in Argentina in 1976

Years later, after the military had been forced from power following their defeat in the Falklands War, Argentines had to face up to what had been going on.

About 5,000 people, mostly young, left-leaning students, had been illegally arrested and taken to ESMA. Of these, only a few hundred were ever seen again.

The vast majority were brutally tortured and then drugged and thrown, still alive, out of a plane into the Atlantic Ocean.

Demanding roles

For all the horrors, it was a good time to be a foreign correspondent in South America.

The reports we filed were important and we enjoyed a lot of freedom. We did not have computers or e-mails or satellite phones.

We could tell the news desk we were going on an investigative trip and disappear for two or three weeks. And investigate we did.

We travelled widely and found things out. Earlier this year I made a long trip into the Amazon forest.

Before I went, I trawled the internet, looking for information.

But there were few reports from the ground. Just repackaged old material.

It is not the fault of today's journalists. They love to travel, just as we did. But there are just too many demands on their time.

They have to be constantly filing for numerous outlets and they have to sell a story to their editor before they are allowed to travel - which seems self-defeating to me.

One of the joys of travelling is stumbling on something important that is completely unknown. Just as I did in the Amazon all those years ago.

From Our Own Correspondent was broadcast on Saturday 15 December, 2007 as part of the Free to Speak season, celebrating the 75th anniversary of the BBC World Service.