Exclusive: Mahsa Amini’s story was a triumph for women’s rights but exposed deep flaws in Western media. Writing for The European, Michael Leidig reveals the cost of keeping truth and independent journalism alive

It was one of the defining stories of 2024.

The death of a young woman, Mahsa Amini, at the hands of Iran’s morality police, ignited global outrage, inspiring millions to take to the streets, post on social media, and shine a light on the brutal repression of women in the Islamic Republic. It was a story that threatened the very grip of Iran’s authoritarian regime.

But here’s something most people don’t know: The story didn’t come from Reuters, AP, or a famous TV correspondent. It came from a single Farsi-speaking journalist at a small, independent news agency – my own. That journalist worked tirelessly to uncover the details and to verify every claim. She went on to produce more than 200 stories that fed the world’s newspapers, digital platforms, and social networks, ensuring the issue of women’s rights remained in the global spotlight.

At the time, it felt like a victory – not only for independent journalism but for the women of Iran.

Yet now, a year later, the Farsi-speaking journalist who broke the story and contributed so much to this extraordinary coverage is no longer working in the media at all. And the reason for that is depressingly simple: many of the publications that used her work to generate clicks, leverage sales, and attract new readers refused to pay for it.

Let me take you back to early September 2022. We picked up the story when our Iranian correspondent spotted reports about a young Kurdish woman, Mahsa Amini, being beaten into a coma for not wearing her hijab correctly. At first, it seemed like another grim story from a country where state-sponsored cruelty was all too common.

She offered us the story on 13th September, but there was little verification and no images available. In news reports, seeing the person makes the reader realise that this was a real, living person, with hopes, dreams, and ambitions like all of us, and as a result, they relate to it.

This story had no images. By 15th September, one badly cropped, low-quality image appeared, and while a few papers published the story, it was still not widely picked up.

But our correspondent knew how to dig deeper. She verified the details, sourced pictures and video, and spent days chasing down independent confirmation. By the time we filed it to the world’s media outlets, it included numerous images of the young woman, bringing home the shocking reality of loss and making this more than just a headline: it was the human story of a young woman whose death laid bare the violence and misogyny of the Iranian regime.

The story took off. Fleet Street tabloids ran with it, and before long, it was everywhere. Celebrities like J.K. Rowling and Sharon Stone used their platforms to spread the news. Even Elon Musk joined the conversation, promising Starlink satellite support to keep the internet open for Iranians.

And yet, many of the publications that capitalised on our journalist’s hard work—publications that benefitted enormously from a powerful story that was widely read and shared, bringing them both revenue and respect—simply didn’t pay.

Our journalist, a courageous Iranian woman who understood the risks and pressures of reporting on such sensitive topics, covered protests, arrests, crackdowns, and more deaths of Iranian women, recording their extraordinary bravery in refusing to back down.

She gave a voice to those who had none.

But here’s the bitter irony: her extraordinary efforts came at a cost she didn’t deserve to pay. Because some outlets—big names that pride themselves on integrity—used her work and our photographs without payment. Our invoices were simply ignored.

And as a small, independently funded news agency, that meant we couldn’t afford to keep her on the payroll.

This is not by any means an isolated problem; it’s part of a wider issue that has been plaguing the industry for years. Small news agencies like ours deliver a huge proportion of the world’s daily coverage. We take risks. We invest in stories. We push important issues, like women’s rights in Iran, into the global conversation. But we don’t have the safety net of giant media conglomerates or subscription models. If we don’t get paid, we can’t survive and nor can our journalists.

The tragedy is that this isn’t just about money; it’s about what happens when big media outlets fail to recognise the value of independent journalism. The loss of our brave Iranian correspondent is a loss for everyone who cares about the truth. Her reporting didn’t just tell the story—it kept the pressure on the Iranian regime. When the public was being silenced, she made sure people knew anyway.

And here’s the kicker: the unpaid invoices, the missed payments, and the disregard for proper credits all raise uncomfortable questions about how modern media works. Journalism doesn’t come cheap. It requires time, resources, and trust.

We’ve filed complaints, written letters, and even launched legal claims to recover the money we’re owed. Yet, even as this fight continues, we’re left grappling with the consequences: fewer resources, fewer journalists, and fewer stories that can make a difference.

This isn’t, then, about one invoice or even one journalist. It’s about the future of journalism itself.

One of the biggest contributors to this crisis is Section 230 of the US Communications Decency Act. Originally designed to protect internet platforms from being held liable for content posted by their users, Section 230 has evolved into a shield that allows new media platforms to use and distribute content—even content produced by independent journalists like us—with impunity.

This further reduces the revenue to legacy media, which itself then also decides not to pay. It is creating a media landscape where content creators are being driven out of business. And if everybody is feeding off everybody else, who is creating it?

Step forward activism, PR, marketing, and wealthy owners promoting their vested interests by buying up media.

The reality is that platforms and publications reap enormous benefits from viral, impactful reporting like the Mahsa Amini story while bypassing their obligations to compensate the people who produce it. They profit from clicks, ads, and subscriptions, yet Section 230 has caused a climate of avoidance when it comes to paying for the content they use.

There is a way around this. Journalists and agencies like ours must insist on being compensated for the labour behind the stories. Charging for the work—the hours of research, verification, and writing—puts the focus back on the process, not just the product. The labour that produces journalism is no different from any other professional service, and it deserves to be paid for accordingly.

So what do we do? First, we need to hold big media accountable for fair payments. When publications rely on independent agencies like ours for content, they must honour the work that goes into every story. That’s not charity; it’s the price of doing business.

Second, we need to confront the fact that journalism isn’t free. The solution is simple: support journalists by paying for their labour like any other professional service.

Finally, we need structural reform to close the loopholes that allow big platforms and outlets to profit from journalism without contributing to its creation.

It doesn’t need a change in the law; it just needs the courts to say that when a journalist does work, it needs to be paid for.

Copyright is irrelevant to the work of a journalist and is a separate matter. Nobody in Iran that contributed to this report was ever going to sign a photograph release for fear of being jailed or persecuted for talking to the foreign media.

In fact, many stories would never be covered if copyright was the only way that journalists ever got paid.

My case against two of the biggest UK newspapers that took my content and refused to pay for it is currently playing out in a UK court. If we win these cases, it will set a precedent. It will mean that journalists like my Iranian colleague—and all those working at the coalface of democracy to tell the stories that matter—can also be paid for their service.

Michael Leidig is a British journalist based in Austria. He was the editor of Austria Today, and the founder or cofounder of Central European News (CEN), Journalism Without Borders, the media regulator QC, and the freelance journalism initiative the Fourth Estate Alliance respectively. He is the vice chairman for the National Association of Press Agencies and the owner of NewsX. Mike also provided a series of investigations that won the Paul Foot Award in 2006.

Images: Supplied (Newsflash)