| August 19, 2005 Alaskan in Exile by Neil Zawicki Have you noticed that modern journalists are not allowed to know anything? If a man in a clown suit robbed a bank, the reporter will not be allowed to just write what happened, as Ernest Hemmingway did when he wrote for the Kansas City Star in the early 1900s. Instead, there needs to be a source that said a man in a clown suit robbed a bank – even if there were photographs. And if there is not a fixed source that said it, the reporter will then evoke the mystical powers of the “Officials.” “Officials say a man in a clown suit robbed a bank…” “Three men are dead after a shooting in Fairview, officials say.” Who are these officials, and why do they have to have said it? Why can’t a reporter just have the information and say it? The BBC pulled this trick recently when London police arrested suspects in the bombings there. “London police say they’ve arrested…” Clearly there were arrests. When it is written that police “say” they made arrests, it is suggested that we don’t really believe them. Why not just write that police have made arrests? That would suggest the reporter actually knows something. If Chicago was devastated by a nuclear blast, I would lay odds the newspapers would report, “Chicago leveled in nuclear attack, officials say.” The practice is timid. It is designed to cover the ass of the paper. And when journalists get timid, the other side wins. Anyway, I’m afraid I am a recovering journalist. I say this because the world of journalism has declared its disinterest in me by dealing me interview after interview, and no offers. Isn’t that the way? If a club rejects you, you say “fine, I didn’t want to be in your club anyway.” That may be it. But there is another notion that is a bit more accurate, and one that has been festering for the past year. Here it is: I do not agree with the direction journalism has gone. And I do not want to commit what I call “paycheck journalism” just to be working as a journalist. More and more, newspapers and other media outlets run limp stories about nothing. And even when they run a story about something, they are too timid or time constrained to include any real analysis or genuinely hard information. Maybe that’s why I’ve had no luck in interviews. I’m a heretic, and it shows. Maybe I should wear a tie to these interviews, instead if a pair of paint-stained Carhartt overalls and a motorcycle helmet. And maybe I shouldn’t use an Air Force pilot’s survival knife as a pointer while I’m showing my clips, and maybe I shouldn’t challenge the editor to an arm wrestling match at the end of the interview, but I suppose these are all just subtle indicators that I really don’t give two monkeys about being a hired pen in a simple puddle of soft data, officials say. The “officials say” method takes the teeth out of journalism, and so does the ever-encroaching business end. I can remember a day at the Alaska Star when the business end decided to stick an adhesive advertisement on the front page of the paper. They stuck it right over the face of retired senator Rick Halford, who was depicted above the fold, reading a book to school children. It was a classic example of the business end being out of step with the editorial end. Not to mention the rudimentary social skill that suggests one shouldn’t blot out a person’s face in print or otherwise, particularly a public figure. I can remember Greg Dart and I waiting quietly for our editor, Tony Bickert, to inevitably show up on this, his day off, to find out who or what decided it would be a good idea to screw with our layout and potentially insult a respected community leader — all in the name of commerce. That day, Tony was our Captain Ahab. After we heard his truck screech to a halt outside, He burst into the front office wearing a pair of hip waders, with a still-wet dip net in one hand, and a crinkled copy of The Star in the other. No one made a move, officials say. At least that’s how I like to remember it, but I have been known to be wrong. The point is that little wars like that happen all the time, as real reporting is marginalized in favor of profit margins. In keeping with my newfound status as a heretic, here is my prophecy: News reporting as a profession will fade as the business end takes hold in every dying newspaper, and regular people, by virtue of ever-accessible technology, will fill the need. Regular people will send photos and reports and video from all corners of the world. Real reports of real events, free of any spin, editorial second-guessing or censoring, and no officials will have to have “said” any of it. Neil Zawicki, exiled Alaskan, is Editor at Large for Insurgent49, a former reporter for the Alaska Star, and winner of the Alaska Press Club's 'Best Columnist' award. He is now living out the rest of his days in an undisclosed location in Oregon. He can be contacted at - neil@insurgent49.com |
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Reserved. in-sur-gent (in sur'jent), n. 1. a member of a group which revolts against the policies of its leadership. |
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