The Stars and Stripes firings look familiar to those behind bars

Last month’s firing of the publisher of Stars and Stripes, as well as an editor and reporter, further cemented the Trump administration’s full-fledged declaration of war against press freedom. To me personally, it stood out from his countless other attacks because I know the dangers this specific form of censorship entails.

I am in my 28th consecutive year of incarceration in the state of Texas. When I first arrived, I enjoyed receiving the prison’s newspaper, The Echo. Each month, there were stories that provided useful information about legal, social, and educational issues that were vastly important to the incarcerated population.

At that time, the Texas prison system was still under federally imposed “special master” supervision as a result of a civil rights lawsuit filed by seven jailhouse lawyers nearly three decades earlier.

In 1972, incarcerated individuals accused the Texas prison system of violating their constitutional rights in numerous ways. The litigation became known as the “Ruiz case” after one of the original plaintiffs, David Ruiz.

This lawsuit resulted in a trial that holds the record as the longest prisoners’ case in the history of American jurisprudence. In 1980, the court found Texas was indeed violating the constitutional rights of people in its care and ordered systemic change.

The Echo was the tool that incarcerated journalists used to keep the incarcerated population — and their loved ones, because it was not uncommon for people to mail news clippings to family members — updated on prison officials’ compliance or lack thereof with the federal mandates.

A year after my arrival, issues of The Echo disappeared without any explanation. In 2003, it resurfaced as a shell of its prior self. Instead of critical coverage, the pages were filled with “feel-good stories” that inaccurately depicted prison life in Texas as the best of all possible worlds.

The old staff had been replaced by a new group of workers subservient to prison officials, who had taken complete control over all editorial decisions. The Echo was no longer independent. It had become — and continued to be — a tool for false government propaganda.

Before the Stars and Stripes firings (which have been paused due to legal proceedings), the newspaper was publishing the kind of reporting that the Echo was known for before its makeover, except for members of the military rather than the incarcerated population.

That changed, according to a lawsuit filed by the fired journalists, when Stars and Stripes angered the Pete Hegseth-led Department of Defense through its reporting on the USS Abraham Lincoln, a 5,000-person aircraft carrier that had been out at sea for a record-setting nine months.

Reports revealed that sailors on the military vessel were suffering from low morale as a result of the long deployment and difficult living conditions. Americans read about a shortage of basic supplies, water contamination, broken toilets, disruption in the mail system, and deck safety concerns, leading to deteriorating mental health and suicide attempts. MS NOW and others reported that sailors have actually jumped from the carrier.

The staff at Stars and Stripes — despite knowing the administration was looking for reasons to target them — upheld their journalistic responsibility by reporting accurately to the military American public about the situation on the USS Abraham Lincoln.

But in Trump’s world, which Hegseth also inhabits, an independent press serves no legitimate purpose. If a media outlet’s content does not praise him or demonize and discredit his critics, it’s fake news and counterproductive.

Of course, the removal of the staff at Stars and Stripes is just the latest attack in the administration’s war to eradicate independent media. Hegseth doesn’t only want to control government-funded media — he wants private journalists to swear away their constitutional rights as a condition of attending news conferences. Trump himself has raided journalists’ homes, subpoenaed them and their families, sued them for billions, and targeted them for immigration and other arrests.

Authoritarian regimes, current and past, have shown how brutal a government becomes when press freedoms are restricted. But the Echo’s example shows one does not have to travel back to Nazi Germany or apartheid South Africa to grasp the dangers.

Since the Echo became an instrument for the state, incarcerated people in Texas are exposed daily to inhumanity beyond description, contributing to the same mental health issues the government seeks to cover up by silencing Stars and Stripes. Texas prisons averaged about 56 suicides a year from 2020-23, compared to 28 per year from 2005-19.

Others have turned to extreme substance abuse as an escape. Walking onto any cellblock at any Texas prison can be like taking a stroll down Philadelphia’s infamous Kensington Avenue. Incarcerated people are laid out, unconscious, in a drug-induced stupor. Texas prisons report a nearly 2,500 percent increase in drug overdose deaths in the past seven years alone.

Basic necessities like toilet paper, deodorant, toothpaste, soap, and functioning plumbing are scarce, forcing people without outside sources of funds to resort to all sorts of bizarre measures.

Most importantly, there is no independent press to inform the incarcerated population inside the prison system and help them protect or advocate for their constitutional freedom from cruel and unusual punishment.

Despite the suicide crisis and substance-use epidemic, the cover story for the July issue of the Echo is “Stitches With Love,” a story about a new prison quilting program.

This exemplifies what news content in Stars and Stripes and elsewhere will look like if Trump and Hegseth are successful. Military families may no longer hear about the horrid conditions causing sailors to jump ship, but they’ll get to read all about the activities offered in aircraft carriers’ craft rooms.