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?

 

 

 

Severance….

My recent blog on Unstructured Hours has generated a fair amount of interest, especially on LinkedIn (where, contrary to popular belief, people still go to talk about career development and work/life balance). One former colleague I spoke to expressed some relief at having been made redundant, because they wouldn’t have to join any more early morning or late night conference calls (at least, not until the next corporate gig….).

Is it possible to separate “work” from “life”? (image sourced from IMDB)

The continued debate about “getting back to the office” suggests that employers are having to bribe and coerce staff to turn up in person. It reminds me of the 1980s, working in London, when some firms were offering free breakfast to ensure employees came in early. It was also a time when Friday drinks took on a social and cultural significance all of their own (until the lawsuits started rolling in).

When thinking about the desire to establish boundaries between our work hours and our non-work hours, I can’t help think about the TV series, “Severance”. Leaving aside the science fiction narrative, the basic premise is that it is possible to hermetically seal our working hours from the rest of our lives.

The irony is that when in the office, the staff of “Severance” are often (and inevitably) thinking about their “outies” (their external, outside selves from whose memory they are “detached” for 8 hours a day). And when outside, they may reflect upon their office “self” (and ponder on what type of work they actually do – I think we’d all like to know that!).

While some logistical considerations have been factored in (like, knowing whom to phone when taking sick leave), this hard delineation means that it must be very difficult to schedule your external social life, or attend to other personal tasks such as on-line banking, home shopping, booking holidays or the myriad of other needs we navigate during our working hours. (Again, I’m reminded of the 1980s, when we were allowed 15 minutes a week to go to the bank!)

On the hand, the ability to disconnect completely when you walk out of the office and leave your work behind you feels very appealing!

Next week: The Five Ws of Journalism

 

 

Sakamoto – Opus

Live concert films are mostly formulaic. The audience filing into the venue. The performers warming up backstage. The band close ups, the cutaways to the wings, then zooming out to the ecstatic crowd. The sweaty and exhausted atmosphere in the dressing room afterwards. Sometimes the live footage is inter-cut with interviews, location footage, and the “making of” narrative. Occasionally, there will be scenes shot on the road, revealing the inevitable tedium and monotony of live touring.

A few notable exceptions have tried to break with this format, to present something more dramatic, more mystical, even mythical – think of Pink Floyd’s “Live in Pompeii” (knowingly echoed by Melbourne’s own Mildlife), Talking Head’s “Stop Making Sense”, and David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars”.

Often, the concert film becomes a souvenir. For those who were there, it enables them to relive the experience. For those who weren’t, they may get some vicarious thrill, but they won’t get to experience the performance as it was fully intended. These films can make us feel we missed out on an historic event, but they can also remind us why we are glad not to have been there at all (the Rolling Stones at Altamont?).

Many concerts these days (and the accompanying Blu-Ray discs) are all about the spectacle, sometimes at the expense of the actual music. Choreographed to within an inch of their lives, these shows leave very little to chance or the unexpected, with their troupes of dancers, video backdrops, somersaults and acrobatics, multiple costume changes, “forced” audience participation, and the “surprise” guest appearances during the encores….

So the footage of the final live performance by the late Ryuichi Sakamoto goes against this trend. Filmed alone, on piano, in stark black and white, and with no audience, no voice-overs and no talking heads, “Opus” is not strictly speaking a concert. Due to his failing health, Sakamoto was unable either to withstand the rigours of touring or to perform a single concert. Instead, these performances were shot in stages, and edited together to form a seamless programme, with nothing but Sakamoto, a piano, and the music, plus some very subtle lighting and framing. The sound recording is brilliant, and the content covers most aspects of Sakamoto’s illustrious and prolific career. It’s a fitting tribute, and a perfect counterpoint to “Coda”, the documentary he made when he had just come through an earlier health scare.

Sometimes, less is more.

Next week: Severance….

Reclaim The Night

Before I get into this week’s topic, some background for context. A few weeks ago I was having coffee in my local cafe. I couldn’t help overhear two young women talking at the next table. One of them was expressing the level of fear she experiences whenever she is out alone for a run, a walk, or on her bike. She described the apprehension she feels that a man might randomly attack her. These attacks might be physical or verbal, actual or threatened, explicit or implied. Her natural reaction is to be extra vigilant about her personal safety, but there was also a sense of dread and exhaustion at having to navigate this constant threat, and in turn raises a risk of not pursuing her daily activities. It was a depressing reminder that women must feel the same way, every day, and the recent events in Ballarat were surely a prompt for this discussion.

In October 1980, I became a student at Leeds University. Newly arrived in the city from London, where I grew up, I think I was only vaguely aware of the infamous Yorkshire Ripper case. But soon after my first term started, a student was murdered not far from the University campus, and in an area where many students lived. Jacqueline Hill was deemed to be Peter Sutcliffe’s last victim (but probably not for the want of trying on his part, given his violent attacks on women are believed to have begun in the late 1960s). I was in the city centre on the night that the police confirmed that they had caught Sutcliffe, and the sense of public relief was palpable and understandable, if misplaced – because Sutcliffe was obviously a “maniac” and not like “normal” men.

During Sutcliffe’s campaign of violence and murderous attacks, women in Leeds had organised a series of marches known as Reclaim the Night, largely in response to police advice that women should not venture into public places alone at night. The marches were also designed to draw attention to issues of domestic violence, rape and other offences and injustices against women. They were part of the feminist debate around issues of the patriarchal society, misogyny, sexism and apparent double standards when it came to the police investigation into the Sutcliffe case.

I recall seeing some of the marches in Leeds, and there were even calls for a night-time curfew on men. A radical suggestion, and one I had some sympathy for, but it was obviously impractical and in some ways the wrong response. Calling for men to be off the streets is not so very different to cultures and religions demanding (and forcing) women to dress “modestly” in public in case they provoke men into a sexual or violent frenzy. Surely, men should be able to control themselves?

Sadly, it seems we still need to be constantly reminded of how vile, aggressive, threatening, intimidating and violent men are towards women, individually and collectively.

Next week: Sakamoto – Opus