Posts Tagged ‘propaganda’

“The Industry of Suspicion: Propaganda and Manipulation of the Digital Era in Latin America”

October 15, 2025


By Ricardo F. Morín

Oct. 14, 2025

In the post-truth landscape of Latin American media, where outrage has become currency, few figures illustrate the fusion of ideology and marketing as clearly as Inna Afinogenova.    She has become the most recognizable voice of authoritarian suspicion in the Spanish-speaking sphere.    From platforms such as Canal Red Latinoamérica, her discourse forms part of a vast network of disinformation spreading across the region, cloaked in the rhetoric of critical thinking and popular emancipation.    These networks—spanning Moscow, Tehran, Beijing, and several Latin American governments—follow a single script: to dismantle trust in liberal democracy, to weaken institutions, and to turn permanent doubt into a substitute for conscience.    In the name of informational sovereignty, they replace debate with discredit, analysis with suspicion, and truth with narrative.    Their power lies not in blatant falsehoods but in the emotional manipulation that transforms confusion into conviction.    Within this context, Afinogenova stands not as an isolated commentator but as the emblem of a sophisticated propaganda apparatus—one that disguises obedience to twenty-first-century autocracies beneath the costume of dissent.

Inna Afinogenova, born in Dagestan in 1989, is a Russian journalist who worked as deputy director of RT en Español until May 2022.    She resigned citing her disagreement with the war in Ukraine and the imposition of a state-sanctioned narrative of aggression.    Since then, she has collaborated with geopolitical and Latin American media such as La Base, produced by the Spanish newspaper Público, and participates in Canal Red, an audiovisual project led by Pablo Iglesias (former vice-president of Spain and founder of the left-wing party Podemos, now active in political media).    There she directs and hosts programs like CaféInna and contributes to political analysis, particularly on Latin America.    Her audience is broad and her reach on digital platforms considerable, which makes her an influential figure in the political and informational debates of the Spanish-speaking world.

Her trajectory, however, has not escaped controversy.    During her tenure at RT en Español, she was one of the network’s most visible faces in Latin America, amplifying narratives that portrayed Western powers as inherently deceitful and predatory.    An opinion column in The Washington Post described her as “the Spanish voice of Russian propaganda,” citing her recurring defense of positions favorable to the Kremlin.    In December 2021, two months before the invasion of Ukraine, she used her program Ahí les va to mock Western intelligence warnings of an imminent attack and predicted that “January will come, then February, and still no invasion,” implying that the media hysteria served the interests of NATO.    Such episodes, though later overtaken by events, exemplify her rhetorical method:    to transform skepticism into disbelief and disbelief into persuasion.

Following her departure from RT, Afinogenova has continued to operate in media circles ideologically aligned with the Latin American left, reinforcing a discourse that equates the Western press with manipulation and imperialism.    Outlets such as Expediente Público have noted her role in shaping narratives within partisan campaigns, often echoing state-sponsored or geopolitically motivated lines from Russia, China, or Iran.    Through Canal Red and Diario Red, both associated with Pablo Iglesias, she participates in content ecosystems that frequently recycle material from international broadcasters like CGTN.    In countries such as Honduras, she has been accused of contributing to media strategies that favor left-wing candidates under the guise of “sovereign communication.”   While the evidence does not show a direct chain of command linking her to a specific regime, the pattern of thematic consistency reveals a coherent ideological alignment rather than independent journalism.

This alignment has provoked renewed debate since the release of her recent video, “¿Premio Nobel de la Paz… o de la Guerra?”, where she presents the Nobel Peace Prize awarded to María Corina Machado as a maneuver of geopolitical design rather than a moral recognition.    The video does not examine facts so much as it interprets intentions, suggesting that the award serves Western influence instead of honoring civic courage.   The argument, though rhetorically effective, confuses correlation with causality.    It is possible to acknowledge the imperfections of international institutions without denying the ethical weight of public bravery.   The Nobel Prize, like every human institution, reflects judgments; but in this case, it distinguishes a life of civic risk undertaken without weapons, privileges, or access to the coercive power of the State.

Questioning motives is legitimate; insinuating conspiracies without evidence is not.   Every critical voice bears responsibility, for truth demands proportion, not projection.   The struggle of María Corina Machado cannot be reduced to the rhetoric of “Western intervention” or dismissed as “fabricated dissent.”   It belongs to the conscience of a people seeking self-determination through legitimate means after decades of dispossession.    Respecting pluralism requires granting others the same intellectual good faith one demands for oneself.   Debate ennobles democracy only when grounded in verifiable facts and moral clarity, not when suspicion itself becomes the argument.    Between necessary skepticism and systematic suspicion lies a moral frontier:    crossing it is to pass from thinking freely to serving without knowing it.


“The New Face of Old Tyranny: …

August 1, 2025

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… The Persistence of Francoist Nostalgia and the Discomfort Beneath It”


Ricardo Morin
Half Republican, Half Falangist
CGI
2005

By Ricardo Morin

August 1, 2025

One cannot assess the Spanish political climate without acknowledging the rise of VOX, a far-right party founded in 2013 by former members of the conservative Partido Popular. Since 2018, VOX has gained traction by opposing regional autonomy, feminist legislation, and immigration, while defending a nationalist agenda that includes the revision—or outright rejection—of Spain’s historical reckoning with Francoism.

It is the symptom of a deeper democratic disillusionment. What resurfaces is not spontaneous historical memory, but a political and cultural framework that reasserts itself when the social agreements binding the present begin to fray. VOX’s references to the Franco regime are rarely doctrinaire or explicit, but they are unmistakable in the party’s rejection of the Democratic Memory Law, its exaltation of national unity as a sacred and untouchable principle, its condemnation of the autonomous state model, and its appeal to a so-called “natural order” that treats hierarchy, the traditional family, and social inequality as if they were objective facts of history.

What is most concerning is not that voices like these exist—they always have—but that they have regained institutional power and cultural legitimacy. Dissatisfaction with the political system, fatigue with ineffective parliamentary politics, and a growing sense of identity displacement feed into a shared national unease. This unease can be felt across a wide spectrum: small business owners who perceive the state as hostile, or young people who find no meaning in a hollow, bureaucratized political language. The grievances vary, but the far right offers a single channel: the emotional simplification of conflict—transforming fear into obedience, and uncertainty into wounded pride.

Within this framework, VOX presents itself as the only political actor with a unified narrative. Its strength does not lie in public policy, but in assertion. It offers no coherent platform of governance, but instead proposes a reactive, exclusionary identity. And here the progressive response often falters. While the institutional left—represented by the PSOE and remnants of Unidas Podemos—relies on rhetorical frames worn down by official discourse, segments of the academic and cultural intelligentsia (particularly university-affiliated think tanks and subsidized editorial circuits) have retreated into a ritualized defense of democracy, without reassessing its principles or renewing the language through which it is explained. Repeating just causes through exhausted formulas turns even the noblest ideas into noise.

Worse still, in the name of pluralism—or out of fear of being labeled sectarian—certain cultural institutions (El País, publishing houses like Taurus, or high-profile forums such as the Círculo de Bellas Artes) have offered platforms to reactionary voices under the pretext of open debate. In doing so, they have helped normalize a discourse that steadily unravels the ethical agreements underpinning democratic life. What is framed as tolerance may, in fact, be a form of structural surrender.

Spain’s history is burdened with wounds that were never fully closed. The political pacts of the Transition, born of necessity, opted for shared silence as the price of institutional stability. That silence allowed for peace, but left the past unresolved. Today, as new efforts—like the Democratic Memory Law—begin to reshape that narrative, fear returns: fear that to acknowledge historical violence might destabilize the present. VOX exploits this fear not with policy, but with symbolic refuge—offering a home to a version of Spain that feels lost.

The responsibility of the intellectual class is not to reassert inherited certainties or rehearse moral slogans. It is to sustain complexity: to resist the lure of simplification, to acknowledge the fatigue of progressive frameworks without falling into cynicism, and to offer new ways of thinking that preserve both rigor and empathy. Because while reactionary discourse gains ground through simplification, critical thought must hold its ground in nuance—even if nuance isn’t viral, even if it doesn’t win applause.

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Annotated Bibliography

Preston, Paul: The Spanish Holocaust: Inquisition and Extermination in Twentieth-Century Spain. New York: W.W. Norton, 2012. (A comprehensive history of political and ideological violence during and after the Spanish Civil War, this work provides essential background for understanding the roots and continued appeal of Francoist narratives in Spain.)

Snyder, Timothy: On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century. New York: Tim Duggan Books, 2017. (This compact, cautionary text distills key lessons from the collapse of democracies in 20th-century Europe and offers reflections that resonate strongly with contemporary authoritarian rhetoric.)

Stanley, Jason: How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them. New York: Random House, 2018. (An incisive study of fascist techniques and psychological mechanisms, this book helps explain how divisive identity politics and historical denial function in modern ultranationalist movements.)

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“Censorship, Caligula, and the Return of Imperial Propaganda”

July 31, 2025

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Ricardo Morin
A Flag in Distress
CGI
2025


By Ricardo Morin

July 31, 2025

The recent public defense of media censorship by the current Chairman of the Federal Communications Commission—an appointee from the Trump era—marks a chilling development in the ongoing campaign to recast American institutions in the image of authoritarian grievance. Justified under the pretext of combating “invidious ideology” associated with Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI), the move signals a deeper ideological purge aimed not at restoring neutrality but at eliminating pluralism itself.

This defense of censorship, framed as a protection against ideological bias, in fact constitutes a stark betrayal of the First Amendment’s foundational commitments. Far from curbing excess, it institutionalizes a selective silencing of voices that challenge the dominant ethno-nationalist narrative increasingly embraced by Trump-aligned cultural warriors. It is not DEI that poses a threat to democratic cohesion, but rather the repressive apparatus now being assembled to discredit and dismantle it.

What is emerging is not policy, but performance—a spectacle of control designed to communicate power rather than to govern justly. In this, the parallels to the reign of Caligula are not accidental. The Roman emperor’s descent into theatrical cruelty and capricious edicts was not merely a symptom of madness but a deliberate assertion of dominance over law, decorum, and truth itself. Under Caligula, the empire was transformed into a stage upon which reality bent to the will of a singular, vindictive ego. Trumpism, in its media strategy and institutional manipulation, follows a similar logic: one that privileges loyalty over legitimacy, and spectacle over substance.

The FCC’s shift from regulatory independence to ideological enforcement exemplifies this logic. Rather than acting as a steward of public trust, the Commission is being repurposed as a gatekeeper of permissible narratives—an arbiter of who may speak and who must be silenced. The language of “protecting viewers” from divisive content serves as a smokescreen for restricting narratives that confront historical injustice, racial inequality, or structural exclusion.

If allowed to continue, such measures risk hollowing out the very idea of a democratic media ecosystem. In its place would emerge a curated domain of sanctioned speech, curated not for truth or civic health, but for the comfort of those in power. The result would not be national unity, but enforced conformity masquerading as patriotism.

This is not a return to law and order; it is a return to imperial whim. The question now is whether American institutions will continue to serve as instruments of democratic accountability, or whether they will become, like the Senate under Caligula, ornamental backdrops to a regime that no longer pretends to tolerate dissent.

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