The Five Ws of Journalism

The importance of a free press within a democratic society cannot be overstated: without the Fourth Estate who will “speak truth unto power”? The role of the printing press was critical to the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the great political reforms in nineteenth century Britain.

But lapses in journalistic behaviour and a decline in editorial standards over the past few decades have brought the press and broadcast media into increasing disrepute – to the point that mainstream media (MSM) has become a pejorative term, and social media (SoMe) claims to be the last bastion of free speech.

I think the truth lies somewhere between those two positions – I don’t believe that the MSM is totally devoid of ethics, nor do I believe that SoMe will displace formal journalism (and it certainly isn’t without its own ethical challenges when it comes to dis/misinformation and hate speech).

But what do I mean by “formal journalism”? After all, we have seen a raft of platforms giving rise to “citizen journalism” and other services which rely heavily on community sourced content, but few of these platforms appear to operate to the same professional standards of traditional reportage, fact-checking, investigative journalism or news dissemination. It also remains to be seen whether these new media channels can displace traditional print (and online) news media as “papers of record”.

As part of a career transition, I took a night class in journalism and sub-editing, with a view to becoming a writer or editor. Although I did work as an editor for many years, it was in the field of legal publishing, and not for a newspaper or magazine. Even though the course I completed was not a traditional degree in journalism, communications or media studies, I was still taught some of the key tenets of serious journalism, principally the Five W’s – the “who, what, where, when and why” of any news event (with the “how” also being an important component of any credible story).

This foundational approach to news reporting underpinned many of the most significant pieces of investigative journalism in the late 20th century, some of which changed laws and government policies, as well as influencing public opinion. Think of the role of the press in breaking the thalidomide story, publishing the Pentagon Papers, or exposing the Watergate cover-up. Even the Panama Papers relied on the collaboration of traditional news media outlets to bring the story to public attention. More recently, the work of Private Eye in helping to bring the UK’s post office miscarriage of justice to light is a prime example of the power of journalistic persistence in search of the truth.

On the other hand, a raft of tabloid scandals have dented the public trust in the traditional press, in particular the phone hacking exploits within the British media. Here in Australia, a recent high profile defamation case prompted the judge to put TV journalism under the microscope – and neither broadcaster involved in the case came away covered in glory. In particular, the court questioned whether the journalists involved had breached their own industry code of practice, by failing to check their facts and by inadequately testing the credibility of their witnesses. The grubby practice of cheque book journalism also came under renewed scrutiny, as did an ill-advised speech on TV by one of the parties that could have been prejudicial to a criminal case. More significantly, one media organisation displayed a willingness to believe (and even assert) that there had been a political conspiracy to suppress an alleged crime, when no such evidence of a cover-up had been established. This case (and its associated claims and counterclaims) still has a fair way to go, and has already embroiled senior politicians (some of whom have been accused of lying about what they knew, when and how), civil servants, political staffers, public prosecutors, multiple police forces, so-called “fixers” and “influencers” with their insidious “back grounding” and a number of TV producers who will probably never work in the industry again.

Added to this sh!t show has been the misnaming of a suspected murderer by one of the above-mentioned TV news channels. This major and latest faux-pas is believed to have been the result of “reporting” some false, misleading or mischievous commentary circulating on social media.

Apart from undertaking more rigorous fact-checking, and enforcing the established journalistic practice of getting actual confirmation of events from at least two credible sources, the news media also needs to make a greater distinction between the facts themselves on the one hand, and conjecture, speculation, opinion, analysis and commentary on the other.

Next week: Is it OK to take selfies in the gym?

 

 

 

More Cold War Nostalgia

I’ve written before about a lingering fascination for the Cold War. In recent weeks, I’ve been re-visiting Yorkshire TV’s 1978-80 spy drama “The Sandbaggers”. Only 20 episodes were produced (across three series), in large part because the creator and main writer, Ian Mackintosh (a former officer in the Royal Navy) disappeared, and in apparently mysterious circumstances.

Putting aside the occasional non-PC language, the series stands up today. The core geopolitical themes remain relevant (even down to names of the principal parties); the ongoing friction between the espionage industry and their political and bureaucratic bosses; the continued unease between ideological purity, political pragmatism and operational reality; and the paradox of the surveillance society in the pursuit of preserving our individual liberties and personal freedoms.

The scripts are taut, with no spare dialogue. We don’t need to see every step in the plot in order to follow the narrative. The characters are not particularly appealing, but we still manage to feel some empathy for them. And although the production does incorporate library footage for some external shots, there is enough location filming to make overseas sequences appear credible and authentic.

The series was filmed and set when the Cold War was still at its height. Since 1974, the Doomsday Clock had sat at 9 minutes to midnight; in 1980, it was back down to 7 minutes to midnight (the same as its post-war setting); and by 1981, it was just 4 minutes to midnight. By 1991, this trend had been reversed, in the wake of Glasnost and Perestroika in the former Soviet Union, and the fall of the Berlin Wall. Even China seemed to be opening up under the leadership of Deng Xiaoping.

Now, the Clock is showing less than 2 minutes to minute – and who knows what a similar scenario to the August 1914 “Month of Madness” could lead to in the theatre of nuclear war.

Next week: American Art Tour

Crown Court TV

Since studying Law at university, I sometimes wonder whether I’d ever get selected for Jury Service; surely the defence (or even the prosecution) would object to anyone who had more than a rudimentary knowledge of the law, because of the potential to influence the other members of the jury during their deliberations?

Apart from participating in a police identity parade (an extra curricular activity of my Criminal Law course), and aside from representing a couple of clients at employment and social security tribunals (through voluntary work), my only involvement with court hearings has been to prepare case papers (take witness statements, issue summonses, draft client briefs) on behalf of local councils, and to appear as a witness in some of those proceedings.

I graduated in Law 40 years ago, and although I never intended to become a solicitor or barrister, I am still fascinated by the legal process, and by court proceedings themselves. Hence, I have something of a weakness for police procedurals, and court room dramas on TV. Of course, not all court room proceedings are that riveting – out of curiosity, I once popped in to London’s Royal Courts of Justice, and was rather surprised to see a leading Judge appear to fall asleep during a case he was hearing…

One British TV series from the 1970s and 1980s, “Crown Court”, stands apart from its peers in the way it presented court cases in a realistic and non-sensational fashion. First, its somewhat dry approach to criminal court proceedings means that it tends to be less judgemental than more dramatic productions. Second, the focus on what happens within the court room itself means we get to see and hear only what is presented to the jury. There are no side bars, no ex-parte applications in judges’ chambers, and rarely any last-minute evidence or surprise witnesses. By removing the traditional drama, and presenting just the facts and the witnesses’ own evidence, we only have as much information about the case as the jury does in order to reach their verdict.

In some ways, “Crown Court” was a public information service. It was broadcast in the wake of significant changes in the Criminal Law system in England and Wales, and at a time of growing suspicion of police corruption (notably within the Met’s infamous Flying Squad). Also worth bearing in mind is the fact that TV cameras were not allowed into real court rooms, so it was a way to show the public how justice was being administered in their name, and what to expect should they have to appear in court, as defendant, witness or jury member.

The other fascinating aspect of “Crown Court” is the roll-call of actors, writers, directors and producers who subsequently became regulars on British TV. In that regard, it resembled an on-air repertory theatre, similar to the leading soap operas of the day, recalling an era of public broadcasting that has largely disappeared.

Next week: BYOB (Bring Your Own Brain)

 

 

Eat The Rich?

There has recently been a spate of satirical films and TV series that take aim at the vanity, self-indulgence and sense of entitlement of the uber-rich. I’m thinking in particular of “The Menu”, “The Triangle of Sadness”, “Glass Onion” and “White Lotus”.  You could also include “Succession” on that list (especially in light of the latest revelations from the House of Murdoch), but this is more of a traditional drama than the others, both in terms of format and content.

Nothing radically new in these stories, their themes or the way they plot their narratives. What is perhaps surprising is the fact that these are not small, independent, art-house productions. They have substantial budgets, exotic locations, stylish design, creative cinematography, and some big names in the credits.

Plus, they receive major theatrical releases, or are luring audiences to premium streaming services. So, they are generally commercial. Best of all, they are attracting awards and nominations – which should hopefully encourage studios to invest in more projects like these (rather than green-lighting yet another sequel in the never-ending round of comic book and super hero franchises).

Of course, these particular stories could simply represent a sign of the times, reflecting current world events, and holding up a mirror to our social-media obsessed age. They also resonate with audiences who are looking for some escapism in the form of critiques of the upper classes, the filthy rich, the social elites, the global power brokers, and those hangers-on who hover and follow in their wake.

I wouldn’t suggest these productions are waging a form of class war, but they represent a kind of morality play: why would anyone want to feel jealous of, let alone become, these people?

Next week: A Journey Through England