Thursday, May 22, 2008

Why we do what we do... and why it's often dangerous

A lot of people go into journalism because they like to write. I agree that writing is an essential aspect of the craft. If you can't form clear, coherent sentences and combine them to create an interesting story, you won't do well as a reporter. But writing isn't really what our craft is all about.

Journalism is about getting the news to people. It's about telling them what they need to know in a timely manner. Sure, telling it well is important, too. But the fact that we tell people what's happening in their world is an essential part of society.

Two recent articles reminded me why journalism is so important to the world. One story is an old one. One story is current. Both make me proud to be a journalist. And both should be read by all current and future journalists.

The first story is that of Ida B. Wells-Barnett, one of the first investigative journalists to crusade against lynching. A new book by Paula J. Giddings, "Ida: A Sword Among Lions: Ida B. Wells and the Campaign Against Lynching," takes a fresh look at this important American. Richard Lingeman reviews the book in this week's New York Times Book Review. Lingeman begins his review with a lead that brings the importance of Wells' work into the present:
If slavery is America’s original sin, lynching is its capital crime. The historical memory dies hard: only last year, three nooses were hung from a schoolyard tree contested by white and black students in Jena, La.
Lingeman then tells Wells' story. If you haven't heard of Wells before, you need to read this review, and maybe even Giddings' book. Wells' work was dangerous -- in 1889, a white mob attacked her newspaper office and probably would have lynched her if she had not been out of town.

More than 70 years after Wells' death, the work journalists do is still dangerous in many parts of the world. One example is in Myanmar, where journalists are putting their lives at risk to cover the effects of the recent cyclone.

Clark Hoyt, the public editor of The New York Times, discussed the problems journalists face in Myanmar in Sunday's column. Hoyt wrote that the Times' editors decided not to identify a reporter covering the devastation because they feared for his safety. Here's an excerpt about the reasons the Times didn't give the reporter a byline:
Describing the situation in Myanmar, Susan Chira, the foreign editor, said that the correspondent entered the country on a tourist visa, was changing hotels frequently to evade the authorities and was initiating all contact with the newspaper because only the correspondent could judge when it was safe to talk. “We don’t like to go around breaking (a country’s) rules arbitrarily,” she said. “It leaves our reporters vulnerable. But it’s our duty to report, so we take a calculated risk in consultation with the reporters.”
The Times finally gave readers an explanation of the Myanmar situation on Thursday, in another article without a byline, saying that the ruling military junta barred foreigners from the areas of greatest damage, that the reporter had hidden in the bottom of a boat to get to the scene, and that the reporter’s name was being withheld to avoid detection.
But Myanmar isn't the only dangerous place for journalists. Hoyt's column also discussed the situation in Zimbabwe, where a Times reporter was recently arrested for doing his job. He was arrested for trying to tell people what was happening.

Telling people what's going on allows citizens to participate in the democratic process. When despots take over governments, one of the first things they do is to grab control of the media outlets. A free press is rare, and where it does exist, it should be protected.

So if you're thinking about going into journalism, remember that it's not all about writing great leads and learning AP style. It's important work that some people are willing to risk their lives for. It's something all journalists should be proud of.

1 comment:

TootsNYC said...

Perhaps those of our colleagues reporting on the city-council meetings in Schenectady don't think they share in the danger.

And perhaps they don't.

But they have their own braveries to summon, their own hazards to navigate, their own citizens to serve.

They must summon the bravery to ask the question that will make the councilman cranky bcs he can't leave right away to get home, he has to answer.

They hazard the bad opinion of the information-controllers in their coverage areas--they tick off the mayor, they annoy the Chamber of Commerce head, because they won't stop asking, they get the information.

And they have citizens to serve whose daily lives--their commutes, their property values, their health, their property, their community lives--are enriched or protected (or simply alerted) by the information that the journalist gets to them.


And they add to the efforts of their brethren who *are* posted to more dangerous places, by doing their own jobs so well that the profession's honor serves as a platform on which their colleagues can stand.

You don't have to hide from the dictators in Myanmar to provide one of the world's most important services. In fact, you might make a much more visible difference in people closer to home if you do your job in Schenectady right.