Macedonia certainly suffers from the maladies endemic to the Balkans: state influence on electronic media, harassment of independent media and restricted access to information. But Macedonia's is a mild case, especially when put in its proper context: the fledgling republic is free of authoritarianism and emerged mostly unscathed from the inter-ethnic conflict that engulfed the former Yugoslavia.

For the Macedonian media, in fact, there are number of reasons to be optimistic. Newspaper readership is soaring, bolstered by competition and lower prices. Independent publications freely chastise state officials and policy. And a new law may curb the countless "pirate" television channels polluting the airwaves nationwide. The media here now muster a strong "partly free" rating in the annual Freedom House survey; meanwhile, the tag "not free" was slapped on the media in Serbia, Croatia and Bosnia. And Macedonia's leaders, desperate for foreign loans, investment and European integration, say the things Western patrons want to hear.

"I don't fear free media," said Macedonia's President, Kiro Gligorov in an interview for the IPI Report. "Criticism and the right to criticise is inherent to a democratic society ... and should not be impeded. However, I do have great trust that the public can judge for itself what is true and what is not." Nevertheless, Macedonia has a way to go before its media can be stamped "free." Fresh in everyone's mind is the February 1996 controversy in which the director of state television was fired - allegedly for political reasons - by the Parliament-appointed general manager of Macedonian Radio and Television. MRTV journalists today describe a workplace where colleagues split into three camps: pro-government, pro-opposition and neutral. What is broadcast often depends on the boss's party allegiance, said Vladimir Lape, the diplomatic editor of Macedonian television. "I tell my reporters: 'Don't be afraid. You have to write freely,'" Lape said. "But I'm sorry to say, after 45 years of Communism, you can't change their mentality overnight."

Lawmakers have, however, finally moved to regulate private broadcasters. Stations in the countryside are subject to greater political influence; many are party-affiliated. And for those parliamentarians who also act as factory directors and entrepreneurs, the channels provide an inexpensive medium for shamelessly promoting their product and party. But of greater concern is the fact that the lack of licensing has allowed the proliferation of mediocre, private "pirate" channels, the kind that continuously broadcast movies and music videos.

By avoiding copyright fees - and sometimes stealing directly from stations in other provinces - pirates are able to undercut the advertising rates of those which produce original programming. The broad audiences they reach, coupled with the tight economic situation, draws advertisers. And that deprives serious-minded, struggling outlets of precious ad revenue. Nobody knows exactly how many television and radio stations exist here. But for a country with a market of only two million, there are estimates of 95 and 200, respectively. In Skopje, the capital, where one-third of Macedonians reside, there are 19 TV and 40 to 50 radio stations, said Violeta Gligoroska, media programme co-ordinator for the Open Society Institute Macedonia, funded by the billionaire financier, George Soros. Licensing regulations were enacted in April 1997, reportedly under Western pressure. The situation should clear up by this spring, Gligoroska said. "It's really a mess. We're hoping there will soon be order." With help from Soros, the independent press has been able to wriggle free of government influence. When it surfaced in March 1996, Dnevnik (meaning "Daily") circumvented the numerous obstacles it faced with the state-run printing house by opting for a Soros-supported private press. The only drawback: it's located 120 km east of the paper's Skopje newsroom.

But by slashing the price per copy, the paper's circulation has shot up from 8,000 to 55,000. Now the country's top daily, its growing influence allows it more latitude to criticise. And that has triggered subtle forms of harassment. The editors say Dnevnik is shut out of state-owned kiosks and forced into street vending. In the spring of 1997, it was also subjected to 56 straight days of inspection of its tax, health and labour records. And the paper has yet to be granted an interview with the Macedonian President or Prime Minister. The paper's adversaries in government, while providing Dnevnik with token financial support, wouldn't be careless enough to exert overt pressure or threaten closure, insists its managing editor, Aleksandar Damovski. "They're afraid of how we'll react and how the international community would react," Damovski said. "Because of us, they can say, 'Look, we support independent media'."

Still, the ruling coalition can make life difficult for its foes in the media. Reporters lament how little access there is to accurate information, with no sign of a "Freedom of Information" act on the horizon. Official comments can come only from ministers or their deputies, many of whom openly play favorites. Their secretaries run interference, deflecting any unsavory reporters.

As a result of this apparent information blockade, many journalists are left to their own devices. Many rely on anonymous tips. One reporter from an opposition weekly even said he occasionally posed as a reporter from a state-run daily to confirm bits of information.

Mostly, say journalists, a number of reporters have compromised themselves by becoming too chummy with lawmakers and bureaucrats. To get the story, they're obliged to "give something" in return. Like a flattering puff piece, or to stay mum about another story. But other journalists are merely driven by naked ambition or financial insecurity. "They think they'll have a brighter career if they do it," says Maja Petrusevska, a reporter with Macedonian TV. "If you want to go faster, it's important to have important political figures behind you."