Gavin Ellis is a media consultant, commentator and researcher. He holds a doctorate in political studies. A former editor-in-chief of the New Zealand Herald, he is the author of Trust Ownership and the Future of News: Media Moguls and White Knights (London, Palgrave) and Complacent Nation (Wellington, BWB Texts). His consultancy clients include media organisations and government ministries. His Tuesday Commentary on media matters appears weekly on his site www.whiteknightnews.com
Numbers are curious figures: They can be up or down, big or small, true or misleading, good news or bad, welcome or unwelcome.
In the past week or so New Zealand’s media had been enveloped in something of a numerical avalanche about itself, And what was good news for some was decidedly the opposite for others.
But, first, let me get something else off my chest.
Journalists have described it as a lubricant, a marinade, a shield, a solace, and a curse. I’m talking here about alcohol – the demon drink.
The recent death of a former colleague – and one-time drinking companion – called to mind the role that alcohol played in the early decades of my journalistic career. In the three decades following the Second World War, it was an ever-present component of newsroom life…and death.
The colleague who recently died had been a gifted member of the craft. He made highly skilled operations look effortless, and brought judgement and wit to both newspaper and magazine production. He went on to challenging management roles where he was working against the odds.
Throughout much of his adult life he was a drinker. Early on, I tried to keep pace with him in the pub and in the Press Club. While he may not have surpassed me in one or two journalistic skills, he certainly beat me in the drinking stakes.
Later, I had to make a choice between alcohol and the woman I loved (and still do). I had to admit I had a drinking problem, deal with its challenges, and stop drinking alcohol. Admitting I had a problem – and making no bones about it – was an important step.
Years later, I was interviewed by Metro editor Warwick Roger on my appointment as editor of the New Zealand Herald. “I hear,” he said in a slightly accusatory tone, “that you’ve had … ah…a problem with…the drink.” I replied: “Yes, that’s right. What can I tell you about it?” Nothing, he said, and moved on. I always wondered whether he was a little miffed that I had not made a pointless denial.
Broadcaster Patrick Gower has been extraordinarily candid about his own battles with alcohol, and I have admired his fortitude and openness – far more publicly than I had ever done – in dealing with what has seemed to be an occupational hazard.
My recently deceased colleague did not deal with his demons, and I have little doubt that it foreshortened what could have been a stellar career in journalism.
I hesitate to say that he and I were victims of the drinking culture that pervaded our early careers: No-one forced us to spend time in the pub. However, I think it is fair to say that we were (willing) products of an environment in which excessive consumption and inebriation were normalised. Continue reading “Bad and sad memories from an alcohol-fuelled age of journalism”→
Here is the weather forecast: A large front is developing, preceded by fog.
The fog is expected to be widespread and persistent.
Older viewers may recall a similar severe weather system that developed in 2003, when visibility was impaired for many weeks.
It was the fog of war. It lingered over the Gulf states, was the trigger point for the Iraq War, and led to hundreds of thousands of casualties.
Viewers will also recall that in the midst of that fog were Weapons of Mass Destruction or WMDs. Forecasters at the time predicted massive damage if they were activated.
The forecasters then were wrong. The WMDs did not exist. The meteorologists had placed far too much reliance on data provided by a single source. It was called Curveball and analysts had taken its information at face value. In May 2004 the New York Times published a fulsome mea culpa, admitting it had taken official and other sources at face value and had failed to check their veracity. Three months later the Washington Post apologised to readers for being “overly credulous” and published a 3000-word article exposing its lapses in reporting and editing.
One might have thought that experience would have made all of us wary of information from sources fixated on particularly nasty weather. It has certainly been burned into the consciousness of journalists, who have been less trusting (at least of the White House and the Pentagon) ever since.
If John Reith had not been cremated and his ashes scattered in the ruins of a Scottish church, the father of public service broadcasting would be spinning in his grave.
The BBC’s first director-general saw it as a way to support an inclusive, participatory and enlightened democracy. He has since been dismissed by some as a moralistic, authoritarian Scottish Presbyterian but his principles defined public service media and remain at their core today.
Lord Reith’s broadcasting vision was to bring together different classes and regional populations. Its role was to reinforce social integration. That ideal was – and still is – the antithesis of partisanship and socio-economic superiority.
If he were alive today, he would not simply be annoyed. He was annoyed when he saw a BBC announcer kissing a secretary. He would be more than angry. Anger was something he felt when he spoiled a new battle tunic by getting himself shot by a sniper in the First World War. He would be incensed. He would be enraged at the way those who hold the purse strings have politicised the process of public media funding.
A concept that seeks to serve the interests and needs of a nation as a whole finds itself, in the 21st century, at the mercy of political idealogues and elected manipulators. The right-wing members of these groups accuse public media of being left-wing – in spite of little evidence to support the claim. Indeed, organisations that measure bias tend to put public media in the centre zone.
‘Left-wing bias’ is more likely to be code for confirmation bias that requires media to reflect a person’s (or a party’s) view of the world. No doubt it will be applied by some in the reading of this column.
An excellent example of confirmation bias can be found in the title given to a US House of Representatives sub-committee hearing on the Trump Administration’s proposed cuts to public media: “Anti-American Airwaves: Holding the Heads of NPR and PBS Accountable”. Continue reading “Public media at the mercy of grubby political paws”→
