I think the corruption set in when they stopped calling ’em “reporters” and replaced that with “journalists,” which sounds ever so much more professional! Lends a note of credibility, don’t you think?
It’s not so hard to be a reporter. You certainly do NOT need a degree in “Journalism.” High school kids and middle-aged housewives–quite a few of them turned out to be wonderful reporters. I ought to know: I trained them, even as I was trained. You learn about newspapers by working for a newspaper.
You do need common sense, a lively curiosity, and a determination to get at the truth–especially when your radar tells you that your source is lying.
But you don’t need any of those to be a Democrat Party water-carrier.
For that you need “Journalism” school.
What’s interesting is that about the same time reporters started calling themselves “journalists,” a new verb, “jounraling,” become current for keeping a journal, i.e., a personal diary of one’s opinions and emotions. So these “journalists” are doing just that: keeping personal diaries of their opinions and emotions.
Good point.
One of the things I’ve observed about our current social order, is that a lot of people don’t seem to understand where one person ends and the other begins. If I say, for instance; “I don’t like Pepsi”, there seems to be a mentality which would find that to be an insult to everyone that drinks Pepsi. It isn’t. I actually do not like Pepsi, it doesn’t taste good to me, but that’s me, my taste buds and my tastes. My dislike has no reflection upon anyone but myself.
Some years ago, I wrote a comment about passion coming through in a singer’s voice and mentioned that a certain old school crooner from the Big Band era could give a lesson in passion to a certain Rock vocalist who was renowned for passion. The immediate response was that I was hating the Rock vocalist. Nothing could be further from the truth; I was merely making the point that one can express passion without screaming out notes at the extreme upper limit of even a high tenor’s range. No hate, just a personal observation, but the hive doesn’t permit personal opinions. As a civilization, we are in real trouble.
I don’t think a lot of people know what the word “hate” means anymore. Being, as they are, products of the most costly and intrusive education system in world history.
I didn’t know anyone wrote journals anymore… let alone letters. I don’t know what Bram Stoker would do if he had to write “Dracula” today.
I’ve noticed a curious phenomenon that has arisen in the Internet era. With the two-way communications of Internet news sources, there is a tendency for people going over the top to post comments which conspicuously demonstrate their compassion. However, at times, this compassion can be misplaced. On music forums, if some artist’s drug and/or alcohol abuse catches up with them, and causes their demise, you had better not even hint that their early demise was the result of their substance abuse, or you will be scorned by the pile-on, me-too crowd who will shame you into the ground, as a “hater”.
Well, I do hate to see lives wasted, and if someone drinks or drugs themselves to death, I hate that. I don’t hate the person, but that doesn’t make them immune to being responsible for their own actions. Having work with musicians, I can assure you that I’ve known drug abusers, and I’ve seen how badly things turn out for people who persist in this, over a period of time. They are victims, but victims of their own choices, first and foremost.
A few years back, a relatively well known musician of the Classic Rock era died. If you picked through the various news reports, and read between the lines, it sure looked like he overdosed on illicit drugs, but every “journalist” tripped over their feet trying to portray his death as a tragedy that fell upon him, instead of what it most likely was. By Al appearances, this was someone who bought drugs of unknown origin and unknown purity, and ended up inadvertently taking too much, or perhaps the drugs were stretched with fentanyl.
My points in all of this, is the hive mentality of rushing to portray this person as a victim, and a hive mind attack of anyone that dares to even think that the demise was caused by poor decision making.
I recall when 60 Minutes was first on the air. They dug into stories, and in many cases, exposed corruption and injustice. But they had to produce another episode the next week, and instead of reporting upon events, they went looking for trouble, sometimes where none existed. But confronting someone on camera and editing responses to make someone look like a criminal was an art unto itself, even if the other side of the story deserves to be reported. In other words, instead of objective reporting, they took a side, frequently before hearing all the facts.
That’s not real journalism. Even in mundane matters of everyday life, I’ve learned that choosing a side can be risky. If it’s not my business; doesn’t affect me personally, I am inclined to be reserved with my words, and in some cases, I don’t even try to solve the question of who is at fault.
To paraphrase Jack Webb; just the facts. Recently, there was a brushfire, not too far away. It was on vacant, undeveloped land, but within a day or two, rumors and allegations were already flying that it was arson. Of course, everyone knows that arsonists just love to burn vacant land covered in mesquite, cactus and Desert Broom plants. Ultimately, I have no idea of what caused the fire, but unless someone actually saw something, the cause will probably remain unknown.
True reporting would state that there was a fire of unknown origin, thankfully extinguished by the Volunteer Fire Department, and would leave it at that, unless more solid, factual information comes to light. Modern “journalism” might well try to make it more interesting by asking leading questions and hinting at the presence of a master arsonist or perhaps as the result of freebasing Cocaine. That makes for great copy, but I’m with Jack Webb on this one.
What–did newspaper competence and ethics die with The Bayshore Independent? It was so different then!
One of my closest early childhood friends died from drugs. He was in his mid-twenties. His old friends tried to save him, but he went chasing after his new friends–druggies all–and it killed him.