I saw some old images today and was reminded how easily some people forget, or perhaps better said, how some never even knew.
You see when I went to study my aim was to be an illustrator but I ended up in a new age Fine Art course where painting and drawing was rejected for cybernetics, installations, technology and digital world that was emerging. Photoshop didn’t exist, the internet was a university thing, and digital cameras were just a dream.
So when I arrived back to Gibraltar, after a period of unemployment I searched for a job that would put into use what I had learnt. And I ended up in the media, first as a salesman, involved in printing and publications and learning the world of advertising. I then became an advertising consultant and publisher and eventually ended up creating my own media agency. And one day I left it all because the scars where harsh.
I’m at that age where I’ve done my bit and have the scars to show for it. I was quite happy taking a step back, moving away and into other areas that were less controversial and, at times, less frightening.
You see, there are political activists out there who think that sitting behind a keyboard, putting out their two-bit opinions, actually constitutes activism. And, frankly, it’s pitiful.
You see, I started journalism by mistake. Second-rate English, a designer and artist by nature, with experience in print publishing. It started with writing a fluffy piece for a monthly magazine, followed by advertorials for clients, until I literally got fed up with what was being churned out and wanted to make a difference.
First, there was a women’s weekly magazine that I had been given the guardianship of for a while. Then came a stream of different publications as I learnt the hard way, looking for stories.
There are those who talk about doing things. I actually did them.
I found my place online, with my own digital publication. The first of its kind. From questioning political leaders to challenging social policies. When people didn’t care what happened to the Moroccan community, and nobody was even talking about them, I was challenging leaders, bringing UK unions into the story and, essentially, twisting arms by raising an issue that nobody else had.
The environment was another example. There was plenty of hot air about how the environment was being damaged, but it was all politics and very little substance. So, when a journalist joins forces with environmentalists and goes on an adventure to show what was happening on the other side, to tell the stories from that other perspective and give environmentalists the same level playing field as politicians, without worrying about whether doing so might close doors on their own financial security, you know you’re doing something worthwhile.
You know you’re making a difference when people are thanking you because meetings are taking place and issues are finally being brought to the forefront.
Then there was all the talk about smuggling, and the taboo surrounding it. Some people looked at you as though you had a target on your head when you dared to speak to the smugglers themselves. To talk about what was happening, how it was done and why it was done. Again, you knew you were crossing red lines, but the subject was being brought to the forefront and others were now being forced to speak about it too.
Then, of course, there was the Tireless. And, well, you could say I made many a friend. Not!
Of course, I didn’t know what I was talking about, except that, unlike what some would have you believe, I was verifying every single fact. Just not through the sources they wished me to use.
So, when I said X was X and Y had been turned into Z, some people were left asking themselves how the hell I knew. But I did. That was my job. Not to publish what they wanted us to publish, but to publish what needed to be published.
And when Joint Sovereignty came along, I made no attempt to disguise where I stood. I stood in the streets with protesters, as one of them at one point, when others didn’t. I questioned and confronted all sides and asked the questions.
Enough to have the other side wanting to know who I was in person. Enough to find myself sitting alongside all the other editors at those breakfasts.
I actually remember the comment: “Stephen, ¿y tú qué piensas? ¿Por qué no has dicho nada?”
And yes, I told them what I thought. No shouting, no insults. Just honesty.
You don’t get our trust simply because you want it. We don’t believe you, and probably never will. If you hit us, we respond by trusting you even less. So, if you want us to start trusting you, at least be clever enough to show us that you accept who we are. A foreign country to you.
But you cannot do that. You cannot put an embassy or consular office in Gibraltar because that would make too much of a statement. But you can do the next best thing.
You went to war with Morocco and, even now, you have opened your cultural office. Do the same here. Let us know you accept us. You might have your flag burnt, but I doubt that would ever happen. We are not stupid, and we would use it against you every day, reminding you that we are not part of you and that you have said so yourself.
So yes, they opened that same office.
But I know nothing.
I also know so little that, whilst many were scrambling around, I was working as a fixer with the BBC, opening doors for media from the UK and Europe and even providing Spanish journalists with a perspective that some had never previously had the opportunity to see.
And, of course, throughout all this, I had the audacity to speak and write freely about independence for Gibraltar. Yes, the response was swift: a threat of jail if it was not removed. I never removed it, and they never jailed me. Because two can play the bluff.
When things settled, they might have done so for others, but I kept searching, investigating, exposing and highlighting. Yet I never had a byline because it was never about me. It was about the stories.
When I broke the story that Al Qaeda had been operating in Morocco and that arrests were taking place, the international media eventually woke up, as did the media in Gibraltar. I was literally live on air in the UK, revealing what I had uncovered.
There were enough doors that opened along the way. And when you find yourself sitting down with the director of Spanish intelligence, police commissioners from Madrid, Barcelona, Gibraltar, Malaga and Ceuta, among others, at a private lunch in Gibraltar, where they know you and respect what you do, you know you’re doing something right.
Especially when what you’re discussing is what is coming next.
Yes, I was laughed at when I wrote about the launch involving explosives. Except that it had been verified, but nobody bothered to follow up. I didn’t have to. I had published all I could. What I couldn’t publish was what I had been asked not to disclose for security reasons.
Or when I was laughed at over the cell that had entered Gibraltar. And yes, I followed that story too. Again, it didn’t matter what anyone said. They were arrested before they could do anything on the other side.
Then there were the days when my car was turned upside down and inside out, day in and day out.
Because, yes, I had picked up someone whom I knew was involved in illicit activities and had driven him into Gibraltar, legitimately. I endured days of constant harassment at the border. What I could not say was that the arrest some days earlier might have been connected to the fact that I had driven into Gibraltar.
When necessary, a phone call to the right people soon put an end to the searches.
But, of course, I did nothing.
And then, because sometimes a story takes you into places you would rather not go, one day you meet someone you would probably rather never have met. Walking through the streets of Gibraltar, you come across a paramilitary loyalist who has killed. And you sit down with him, have a coffee and talk about what he has done and why he is in Gibraltar.
Yes, these were many years of work, but I avoided putting my name to a byline whenever I could. At one point, I had the opportunity to work with a team of equally minded journalists who worked alongside me because they believed in what we were doing and how we were doing it.
They believed in it enough to undertake a sting operation targeting a sector that uncovered money laundering on a scale that had been missed by the authorities. Nobody in my team was affected, discovered or exposed. But we had a story that opened doors and led to other things.
And today we see things happening, such as the many sex-related cases. Yet two decades ago, the Gibraltar Porn Hub story was brushed aside because of where it was published. Every site mentioned, every registration found, showed what was happening and what was being allowed to happen.
And then there were the positives.
You know, like the series of stories about things that could be done in Gibraltar. Repairing and beautifying Europa Point. Building a residential area whenever the MOD decided to release the aerial farm (at the time nobody believed they ever would but I was saying they were). A green park where the naval grounds once stood, once released by MOD (again nobody believed they would release it). Oh, and a link road tunnel connecting the East Side to the border, making the connection seamless. Then there was reclamation around Coaling Island and the North Mole, continuing the Eurocity concept as it had first been drafted. No, not all the ideas were mine, I researched everything and with the help of experts in the field considered what was plausible.
Oh, hold on. Those ideas now ALL exist. Dannit and I was stupid to suggest them at the time ofcourse.
Some came with differences. I had suggested a tunnel using modular construction, which could be brought from Germany and sunk from the East Side, allowing the airfield to be extended by 400–600 metres, instead we got a roofless tunnel and an airfield that can no longer be extended because of it. The green park was developed at the USOC, while the naval grounds were built upon.
But essentially, the ideas were the same.
And I could go on.
I mean, I wasn’t the most liked person, and plenty criticised me. But today, some people come up to me and ask whether I will ever return to doing what I used to do.
There were people who thought political leaders hated me and wanted me gone. And yes, of course, they didn’t like having me around or how little control they had over me. They had no control.
I remember once saying that if they didn’t take me seriously and answer my questions, I would provide the answers I had to every question they wouldn’t like. And I did exactly what I said I would.
I was thrown out of press conferences. I was refused entry to events, with the way I dressed being used as the excuse.
But those who supposedly hated me didn’t quite hate me as much as some might think.
The same Chief Minister who once refused me entry to a press event because of how I was dressed later allowed me in when I turned up in different clothes. Not only that, but when he found out I had walked all the way from the Mount into town to buy them, he offered to pay for them. Of course I didn’t accept any payment, moreso, the online publication I had launched didn’t take one single advert from Government and we survived on advertising and my freelance work.
The same person who threw me out of a press conference and called me a liar to defend himself later gave me what was my last interview on the political side of news before I left. And afterwards, he would stop every day to greet me. And I mean stop.
And it was the same with so many others.
Because what everyone knew was that I understood the lines, and we all had our jobs to do. Mine was to inform and ask questions about matters for which they had to be held accountable.
It was never personal. There was respect.
I was not for sale, and neither were my words. If I was wrong, I would correct it and put things right. But I would never allow myself to be influenced.
The only line I would draw was when it came to the protection of Gibraltar’s right to self-determination. On that, I would stand behind what was right.
So, when I left in 2007, it was with the intention of never coming back.
I became a police officer, a career that lasted close to seven years, until the baggage I had carried, which ultimately contributed to the bullying I experienced, forced me out.
But I had no intention of returning to what I had done before. I entered journalism again because it was the only job I could get, considering what had just happened, and because it was a field that was supposed to be away from the politics and the scars they had left behind.
But hey, that’s the nature of the beast.
Even in a sector that shouldn’t be controversial, I somehow ended up being the one exposing the betting scandal, the home-grown player rule controversy and so many other issues.
And whilst some criticise me, I continue to work tirelessly to verify information and be as accurate as humanly possible. The good and the bad. It doesn’t matter who is involved.
What so many will never understand is that opinions are two a penny. They are easy to come by and easy to express, particularly when you assume and speculate without facts. Or when you have an agenda, as some do.
The difficult part is assessing the facts, finding them, establishing what can be proven and presenting not just one person’s comments or opinions, but also what the other side has to say.
And, importantly, establishing what is in the public interest. That is, what is genuinely in the interest of the public.
Sometimes, the big headline, with EXCLUSIVE underlined, is neither in the public interest nor even a story.
And it’s not always the person screaming their name from the rooftops and talking about how great they are who does the hard work. Often, it’s the people who go quietly about their business.
I’ve been quiet for most of my career.
I’ve brushed aside interviews, invitations to speak and opportunities to participate in discussions. I think I did one Viewpoint programme, alongside ESG and the RGP Chief Inspector of Operations, discussing emergency response. It was educational…
I also did an interview about the Tireless. Just the one. I don’t think many liked the comments.
The political side shivered, the military cursed, the locals… well, a Gibraltarian describing Gibraltar as a village, you can imagine. And the environmentalists seemed pleased.
But the ones who reacted most strongly were the British institution, which made a point of sending another subtle threat my way. To which I once again simply reflected and said, “Come again, please.”
So yes, I don’t say much, and I don’t need my name in headlines. I just wanted the stories to be the headlines, not me.
oh yes the the journalist was from the Independent on Sunday…. oops … oh well I didn’t know that people like me are not supposed to speak to such newspapers, but they did call me to meet.
One day, I’ll sit and paint quietly.
And unlike the keyboard warriors, I’ll be doing so knowing that I’ve actually done something more than just sit behind a screen complaining about and criticising others.
The one thing I failed on was getting people to support my call for a regulatory structure for the online media. Before social media even existed, at a time when using audio and video within your pages was unheard off yet here I was coding my on site and uploading live videos and audio via dial-up networks. I was also battling because some wanted to regulate me as a broadcaster and I challenged the system and confronted them. Yes we won the argument but ultimately lost the war, because I was not saying don’t regulate, I was saying regulate properly. The exact same rules that exist for newspapers should have been enforced on any and all publications online. Even a personal blog because it was and is publishing. If you have a comment to make you make it under the same conditions as if it were printed on paper. The same laws, the same consequences and anyone involved it its publication, even those supplying the network are responsible for its publication. Had those regulations been enforced today social media would not be what it is, nor would the internet. And at the time territories could control the distribution. So yes I failed in one big aspect but keyboard warriors will be nothing but keyboard warriors. Everyone had an opinion, and anyone can twist facts. Like I stated in 1992, the biggest censorship, the biggest form of disinformation will come from total freedom in publication and total publication of everything. So vast will the information overload be that censorship and disinformation will be rampant. Mass media would mean just that, mass media. That is what I said in 1992, its 2026 and that is exactly what we have. So I wasn’t wrong. Today you hide things by telling everyone everything. Like my daughter asked, how do you know a liar is telling the truth if they lie? How do you know what is true when there are so many lies?
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