Giving to the Next Generation of Reporters

Recently, I watched (again) the Russell Crowe movie that came out last year, "State of Play." The film is really a memorial to the state of journalism, to the need for local reporters to monitor the powers that be, to ensure democracy, to verify every detail of every story in order to provide the public the information they need to make their own decisions about the truth of those who represent them. Or are suppose to. It's an intense big-city story set in the backdrop of the halls of Congress, but the real inspiration of the film was not the Hollywood-ized version of investigative political journalism. The real inspiration reminded me of something I've seen time and again in my own community north of Boston.

Here's what I mean: Russell Crowe's character—a tough but nice enough veteran reporter—took on a young cub and mentored her through one of the biggest and most important stories their paper ever published. This mentorship theme in the film might have emerged for me because I was watching it with young journalists. But I think it really came straight out of our local communities.

Last month, for instance, a veteran reporter from the Salem News dropped by my journalism class to interview students for a story (and show 'em how it's done) as well as offer encouragement for the "best job in the world." (Thanks, Steve!) A local editor for a weekly visited our class two weeks ago and gave them a sort of Top 10 list of do's and don'ts for writing in a way that serves the public. (Thanks, Dan!) Today, another editor from the local daily gave the next generation of journalists more good reasons to keep going, to pursue truth and in so doing, to offer measured—not sensationalistic—coverage of important issues. (Thanks, Dave!)

And I know of other young journalists this fall who have called, e-mailed or visited award-winning reporters and editors in their newsrooms to pick their brains. Whether a Globe reporter, a magazine editor, a television anchor, all of these professionals took time out of their demanding schedules to answer questions from aspiring reporters. By so doing, I'm convinced their generosity is ensuring good reporting in the future. Because every time they engage a young person, they're investing in the truly noble work of journalism—one that is mutually beneficial and equally inspiring. That's fruit that will last long after the credits roll.

The Real Color of News

Last week while getting my urban fix in New York City, I stepped into a church a block from Times Square. The doors were wide open and this sign ("Sinners Repaint") was posted at the aisle. And I confess, the sign—not the stained glass or the cathedral ceiling—grabbed my attention.

I was impressed by its creativity and though the parish leaders probably only hoped to raise renovation funds, I couldn't help but take up its cause. I'd been troubled by the recent media obsessions with non-stories (flying hoaxes, slimy talk show hosts) and more troubled still by the blatant ideologies behind which many television stations hide in the name of ratings, playing to party lines that reinforce what people want to hear (as opposed to what's true). So I decided this nifty little sign could indeed be a call to today's journalists to get back to the business of painting the truth as it is, not as a prop for an agenda. I know there are thousands of reporters out there doing good work but the corporate execs who run the Fox 'news' shows, the MSNBC's or CNN's of the world, too often slather on a lot more color than story, burying the truth beneath distracting hype. 

Granted, no news can be 100 percent biased-free. It's impossible, because the folks who write and report it are full of opinions and experiences that have shaped their perspectives. We all are. It's the lens through which we view the world. Even so, journalists—by definition of the vocation—are required to lay aside as best they can their values and views to get at the truth for the good of the people they serve. The methodology of reporting, then, actually can be  more objective than the reporter himself, even in television. (Think Murrow or Amanapour.) But the second any professional journalist reveals his position, he knows (or used to anyway) he's got a credibility problem. It's called: conflict of interest. 

In other words, citizens don't need to know what a reporter believes or what political party she subscribes to in order to a make sense of the details and information the reporter has provided in a story. Which means, we don't need to know that the president of Fox news is a staunch supporter of the Republican party (recent 'reports' have linked him as a possible presidential candidate). In fact, I'm worried about any news outlet that publicly promotes its colors. (Don't we cringe when we hear of ideologically-driven media in other countries controlled by political or government thugs?) When it happens here, and it does every time we flick on the television set, the lines become blurrier for citizens who already struggle to discern truth from opinion, fact from agenda. And that's dangerous for a culture which relies on news like an artist does his muse.

So we need to roll up our sleeves and repaint our newsrooms with truth—not slogans. Or at the very least, find the sources that still value truth—not agenda—as the real color of the news.

In Defense of the Prize(s)

What an irony that the recent announcement of this year's Nobel Peace Prize has created such a war of words. Between the canons shot across various Web sites and blogs, the bombs dropped in countless opinion columns, and the bullets shot from thousands of Tweets, the online news world is experiencing a 21st century battle of sentences and exclamation marks. Again. It was too early, many say, and too ridiculous; or too exciting, too cool, too soon or too hard to live up to; between the soldiers of campaigns, the bloggers with agendas, the professional reporters and the engaged citizens bent on adding to the barrage, all have pulled the pin of a grenade and tossed it online.

I, for one, couldn't be happier. At the discussion, that is. Such explosive discourse is the stuff of free speech and democracy after all. We need it. We need to challenge opinions, argue points, investigate new territory. Each step on the battlefield helps us decide for ourselves and come to our own conclusions about how we, too, can work for peace in our own worlds and spheres of influence, that is, if we can actually decipher the authentic discussion beneath the attacks.

Still, for all the digital combat about President Obama's Nobel Peace Prize, I wonder if another bias is behind the rhetoric. Is it more about utilitarian functionality than character? Does it reveal a preference for the ends while ignoring the means? Put another way, does all this angst say more about how Americans are addicted to end results with little regard for process? What has he done, for Pete's sake, we ask? Not what has he been.

Is it too simplistic to consider if the new president has promoted global peace—simply by being new or by having the same skin color as many of the world's population or by using his gift of language to inspire anew? Which brings us full circle in this war of words: Isn't peace-making as much about challenging perceptions and attitudes as it is about ending wars?

Then again, maybe all this smoke had nothing to do with the Nobel selection. Maybe the naysayers just wanted another reason to toss their grenades. At which point, the prize of genuine discourse gets blown to pieces. So much for world peace.

When Hard News Gets Too . . . Hard

This is Bob's car. It's parked next to his garden and his 100 year old house, which you can't see here but I'll report to you that it's in need of a paint job. Bob—who is 87 years old—lives just around the corner from my husband and me, and only has so much time and energy these days for a couple of things that matter to him. Painting isn't one of them. But his award-winning dahlias are; he grows them every year and enters them in the Topsfield Fair. They're glorious flowers, and it's not hard to figure out why he wins (and why he neglects his house).

Bob also makes time for visits everyday; he climbs into his funny little Chrysler box car, drives about a 150 yards, parks and then hobbles up the steps to visit our neighbor Mary, who's 92. (She insists they're just friends.) Bob's mission is quick and simple: he's delivering bananas that were on sale, or soup he made for Mary and his brother, or a sandwich. She opens the door to greet him, he talks about the news (I can hear them from my porch across the street). They exchange food and health reports and then he turns to his car to drive the 150 yards back to his dahlias and brother. It's a five minute story I watch regularly. I can't help myself.

This past week I also read about other stories: the horrors of Sumatra's earthquake; U.S. unemployment climbing to 10 percent; Samoa's tsunami devastating villages; and young American teens gunned down in 'can't make sense of it' violence. There are health care concerns dividing our country, increasing casualties in Afghanistan, and rising suicides in western countries like France and England linked to economic woes. Maybe there's more than one reason it's called hard news. And you don't have to search very long—on Internet sites or broadcast programs or in the paper—to find it. I'm glad to have such immediate access these days to the events that happen daily beyond my neighborhood.

But some days, I could use more stories like Bob's. I suspect we all could. Not that the others aren't crucial to know. They are. And technology has made news more accessible to us than ever, shaping our roles and responsibilities as global citizens. Still, the view from the porch is equally important. It links me back to the stories around me, to the dahlias which can soften even the hardest of news—especially when they're just around the corner, like this one in Bob's front yard.

The Most Important Address in Washington, D.C. (Hint: It's Not What You Might Think)

Washington, D.C.—555 Pennsylvania Ave., N.W. That address, I think, is the most important one in our nation's capital. Because you can literally see the Capitol from the sixth floor of the 555 building, and because the White House is on the other end of Pennsylvania (at 1600 N.W.), you can rule both out as most important, though obviously each is significant in shaping our culture and governing our communities. There are the other great addresses of inspiration: the museums and monuments and congressional offices. But 555 is a place where the First Amendment to the Constitution literally scrolls down the side of the building, reminding passers-by of the five freedoms those other places of government are committed to preserving: speech, religion, press, assembly and petition—freedoms, we all know they (as in government officials) don't always get right.

Which brings us to 555, home of the Newseum, the country's first museum dedicated entirely to those gatekeepers of culture, those watchdogs of government, those voices for the voiceless: journalists. For anyone interested in journalism as either a doer of it or a citizen dependent on it, the Newseum inspires, challenges and instructs at the same time. Yes, it's interactive, fun and enormously creative. But it also provides the news from around the world everyday in its amazing rotation of daily front pages. Its history section gives clues to the perils and sacrifices made throughout the centuries to bring the news to people, to protect their freedoms, to expose injustices or to report the stories that matter to their lives. Its various memorials—whether to modern reporters who've been killed for pursuing the truth or to standard setters in early journalism—are enough to make even the hardened cynic appreciate the role journalism plays for each of us.

This place, with all its artifacts, films and exhibits, matters. When I visited again last week, I realized its importance anew as I sat next to a fifth grader on a field trip while we waited for a movie to start. Her black braids shot off her head, her enthusiasm spilled over her seat into mine. Before the 4D film began (and we weren't wearing the funny glasses) I asked her if she wanted to be a reporter. "Yeah, I think that'd be so cool," she said, a grin on her face nearly as wide as the Potomac. The movie started and she marveled—quite exuberantly I might add—more than anyone in the cinema. And when the credits rolled, she told me that was "awesome." I told her I hoped to read her byline someday and advised her to always tell the truth in her stories. She seemed confused. "Of course. What else would I tell?" she asked.

So if a place like the Newseum can inspire the next—and current—generation of reporters in an age when the industry could use vibrant reminders of its critical role, then I don't care how much or how long the place took to build (and much has been made by the nay sayers and cynics). I'm convinced, unashamedly: This is the most important address in Washington because it could affect so many other addresses in years to come.

Making Unity Sexy: A Challenge to Today's Reporters

Conflict, we know, is the sexy stuff of storytelling. If it bleeds, it leads, say the editors. Tension lures in readers, takes us on a journey that keeps us glued to the set so that we'll hang in there till the end. After all, we don't watch action-adventure flicks to know how they'll end; we watch to see how the hero will get out of each pickle.

Little wonder then that reporters today cover the fringes as primary stories. The finger pointing, the opposite perspectives, the marginalizing—and hence the polarizing—seem to make for more interesting copy. It's sexy. So one day we get, for instance, full coverage of the folks on the Right who think the folks on the Left are nuts because of health care reform; the next day we get coverage of leaders from the Left who think the folks on the Right are nuts because of, well, how they view health care reform. And as a result, it spills over into town halls, rallies and marches until it erupts into screaming and shouting . . . that again makes for good stories, but does little to help us appreciate our diversity.

Surely, though, people somewhere are having conversations beyond their narrow Right and Left opinions. Surely some political leaders are reaching across the aisle, genuinely trying to consider how they can work together. Surely unity—somehow, somewhere—is happening.

Why, then, don't we hear many of these stories? Why don't we read the "Against All Odds" tales of folks who, in spite of their differences, agree to keep the conversation going because they know they'll be better off as human beings for listening to different perspectives? I'm certain they're out there.

So this is my challenge to reporters everywhere: PLEASE find the stories of the folks who are as determined to shake hands with others who might see things differently as the pundits are to polarize. The conversations these brave folks are having, who dare to work together, must certainly provide important insights for the rest of us who are tired of the polarizing and finger pointing. Please, Mr. and Ms. Journalist, give us the stories we need to better understand each other's perspective on issues (especially) like health care, and the economy, and so on, so that we'll make some progress toward civility and grace, the stuff that makes nations great. The stuff that unifies.

Surely, that's a story all of us would read, one that's essential and sexy, and most importantly, life-changing.

60 Years of Wisdom . . . in a Couple Conversations

Minneapolis, MN—I'm at the 60th anniversary conference of the Religion Newswriters Association (RNA), a smart and gracious group of about 160 (in attendance) professional reporters who have the audacity to believe that religion as a beat still matters. That's no small thing. When the general media is laying off or reassigning veteran religion reporters (the RNA president mentioned in his welcome address that he'd heard of two religion reporters in the last 24 hours who'd lost their jobs), it's encouraging to find journalists here who still recognize the far reaching implications and roles that belief systems play in shaping a culture. After all, everyone believes something. And most of the time, our behaviors come out of what we most believe. So to cover the stories that emerge from the world's major religions either in our towns or trends is an essential service to citizens. Religion reporting helps people make sense of current issues as well as the individuals in their communities, their neighbors.
     So I asked (or eavesdropped on) a couple reporters or speakers here about the insights they might have for new journalists, for those entering the field that is requiring different skills while still reporting the human elements we need to be self governing. Here's what a few said:

   "The pay is low, but don't fear the small town newspaper. That's where you get thrown into the action right away, covering everything from city hall or education to small businesses. Be willing to learn, because often you're learning with your editor. That's what I did."—William Taylor, assistant editor, The Advocate, Baton Rouge, LA;
    "In covering a recent and troubling story here (on the disappearance of Somalian young men) I began to see that this was revealing something much more complex than what appeared on the surface: many young men were wondering where—or how—they fit into U.S. culture. There's always something more behind the story."—Allie Shah, metro reporter of the Minneapolis Star Tribune;

     "I've found the news media generally very fair on their coverage (of religious issues). In fact, I've had more difficulty with the press within my own denomination than those outside." —Dr. Frank Page, President of Southern Baptist and "resident fundamentalist Christian (his words)" on President Obama's council of faith based initiatives;
     "Learn everything you can about new ways of doing journalism while also mastering the traditional methods of reporting. That means being the best writer/reporter you can be, asking the right questions, checking the facts, being accurate and fair so that you have the best content to fit into these new media. What do I love about reporting? Talking to fascinating people and then sharing their thoughts/stories with others. There's nothing like a goooood interview!"—Adelle Banks, senior correspondent, Religion News Service. (That's Adelle in the photo preparing her recorder, computer ready for note taking.)

     So there's good stuff to be gained in the community of such wisdom. It comes in many lectures, conferences and mostly, conversations. And it comes always in paying attention. Remembering to observe, especially this day, Sept. 11, how religion reporting took on another new and essential role. As one who lived in New York City in 2001, I offer you my own reporting from that day: The End of the World (Trade Center), posted on 9/11/01.