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JOURNALISTS are scabs, leeches, hounds and
foxes! some will spit - er, I mean, protest.
They are sometimes known as "hacks", a
colourfully descriptive term only a handful in
the profession may take pride in, whilst the
majority squirm at the mere thought of even
being classed alongside it.
In my eyes, hacks are thick-skinned,
tough-spirited media maggots (yet sometimes
with the stereotypical, proverbial heart of
gold, as is Al Pacino's character in the film
The Insider). Hacks are often portrayed
as greasy, sweaty people with very sharp
(read: cunning) minds, who wear shabby
clothing and scramble mercilessly through
other people's affairs. They seek out
hard-core facts and even harder-core fiction,
which they then go on to expose to the world
in the rawest and loudest of manners (all in
the name of legendary objectivity).
artistic freedom
There is a reason why hacks are the way they
are, to be sure. But I personally prefer to be
called a "journalist", thank you. And when I
occasionally reel with shame over what even
that classic and open-to-interpretation
description means to particular individuals, I
narrow it down to "[creative] writer."
Many individuals in this profession also
happen to be creative writers, actors,
singers, musicians or artists. Maybe this is a
positive way to use as well as escape from the
often ugly, graphic, shocking neverending news
they have to look at and listen to closely in
order to transfer it with the world. When one
thing makes you numb, you look for something
else to stimulate you. Some are very talented
in the more creative areas and manage to
flourish whilst involved in their "second
field" simultaneously.
Others accept or conclude that they don't have
sufficient time for an equal commitment to
their more artistic skills and place them in
the hobby category, but are still reasonably
successful.
Others still are simply mediocre, or lousy, in
terms of their creative aptness but can't
accept it and as a result become embittered
wannabes. Perhaps they have never really made
the effort to realise their artistic desires
(probably because they know they can't) yet
cannot quite relinquish their dreamy
faux aspirations, and thus make excuses
for their lack of full-on commitment to a
stimulating artistic career by working in
journalism with a vengeance instead, and
desperately clinging to, or humiliating, those
who have "made it" in their dream-realm
instead.
the path less travelled
Some journalists aim to valiantly expose
well-researched, weighty issues in order to
open the eyes of the wider public to (what is
often their perception of) reality.
Others just want to get a free ride, become
famous or acquire a taste of the good life
that they cannot entirely produce for
themselves. In a country like Greece, where
political interests are supernaturally
intertwined with business affairs
(note: Greece's rich guys are in fact
the most loaded in the world, after American
counterparts), journalists regularly become
voluntary pawns for fancy-effect productions
that will lull the masses into a false sense
of belief of what the unquestionable point of
the matter is not.
Those journalists whose professional,
morality-founded integrity is quite intact,
however, and who get the "perks" of the job
without doing anything unprofessional to
attract them, but won't refuse them
nonetheless, are well aware of the powerful
weapon they hold. Wherever they may go, those
members of the press who will not be bribed or
otherwise corrupted are the scariest kind,
because, like coal to a fire, essential new
things to criticise, expose and talk about are
actively sought out. Apart from being
judgemental, they are also human, which means
that if they are angered or unsettled by a
certain behaviour or situation they won't
hesitate to let it be known (as I am not
hesitating now).
personal vs public interest
If certain, or most, journalists are of no use
to the big cheeses, since just a few,
senselessly-well paid, well-disguised hacks
will do just fine for that, they try to visit
the tropical paradise of their own world in
more inventive ways.
Those include: getting freebies, hanging with
celebrity "friends" or procuring personal
fame.
FREE!bies include visits to places they
wouldn't normally be willing or able to
afford, or gifts in the form of anything that
can be paid for in the way of a clandestinely
promotional article.
Celebrity friends include people in the
government, actors, directors, other
journalists (the subjectively powerful ones
with the big cheeses behind them), or good -
never said honest - lawyers.
Personal fame comes as a direct result of
having celebrity friends, or via The By-Line,
participation in fluffy TV chat-shows in which
they can look sober and professional whilst
climbing on their soap-box, and other media
coverage such as the occasional glossy
magazine spread under an asinine title.
Why go into all this? Because it has to be
said in order to reach my point. Most people
of the eyes-wide-open variety are well-aware
of all the above-mentioned goings-on, and that
is why an irremovable crust of cynicism has
been formed around the term
"journalist."
not a big deal
That's why it sometimes proves impossible to a
journalist to be taken at face-value, and to
not be suspected of wanting something in
return for basic professional interest and
coverage, the credit of which will go to the
media organisation to which one
belongs.
Unfortunately, when a journalist approaches an
individual for an interview here, there
sometimes develops a surreal feeling of
near-conspiracy. Sometimes you can almost hear
the potential interviewee considering the
simple request, and chiefly wondering: "What
does this person want from me?" Whilst
if they agree to be interviewed, one cannot
escape the feeling of a weird tacit "deal"
being made.
The subject's silent contract with the writer
goes something like this: "I will play
hard-to-get, OK, then eventually throw an
incandescent glance towards you, as if I have
suddenly realised that it may indeed be an
attractive invitation, regardless of how
extraordinarily in-demand I am. I will,
however, continue to appear as though I am
mulling it over - when I have the time to do
so - and then (perhaps) finally accept. You
will interview me and throughout I will be
sickly-sweet and deceptively down-to-earth
towards you, without, of course, neglecting to
inconspicuously bring out must-mention
examples of my thrilling character and highly
enticing career status throughout our
stimulating 'conversation'.
"Then you will write and publish your article
about me, you lucky, lucky thing, and if I am
in the mood to be nice, or simply am not too
proud to indicate I have nothing better to do
for those one-point-five minutes, I will call
you and thank you, perhaps being kind enough
to add a few clever nuggets of my constructive
criticism on your writing-style/perception of
me/ fact-making mission. If I am uncertain
whether I want anything more from you or not,
I may send you a symbollocks company gift, or
serve up the foolish illusion that I've warmed
up to you enough for you to happily consider I
may be your friend, by inviting you to an
event promoting me or even occasionally asking
you how you are." The End.
disillusion and absolution
As a journalist, you of course don't mind
coming to the astounding realisation that the
person you were genuinely interested in
covering (and promoting) to the world, because
you had considered the cause/work/talent
behind him/her highly admirable, is actually
an unappreciative, manipulative, arrogant and
self-obsessed git, because now that the
article on the person has been published you
are rich, famous and deeply self-fulfilled.
Not. Also, it's a professional matter and not
a social one, so why be such an imbecile to
expect any inkling of humane appreciation for
your efforts?
cheek-to-cheek
"It takes two to tango" is one of the most
indicative phrases ever created. It
encapsulates the way any journalist looks at
the inter-stellar domain. Writers need
interesting subjects as much as the
interesting subjects need them, but is the
wild-goose-chase and its paltry aftermath
really necessary?
Journalists don't need to waste their pressed
time chasing people as if it were for their
personal benefit to eventually reach them.
There should be more cooperation. If I'm
jerked around by someone I was originally and
genuinely drawn to dedicating time and
attention-drawing, I will not only lose my
enthusiasm and esteem of that person, but will
also feel frustrated, disapproving and, well,
jerked around. Why should I eventually care to
interview that person if and when they agree?
There are always plenty more forms of life in
the bottomless pit.
Some commissioned writers unfortunately have
no choice but to keep going at it and hounding
down the individual in question, even if by
the time of their eventual appointment/trap
they are sweating malediction, not to mention
disrespecting the ground way, way, way beneath
that they once walked on.
hackers anonymous
Empathise with journalists on the road to
hackdom, and appreciate that when they stop
washing their hair and caring about their
wardrobe, when they begin to attach
blush-inducing curses to any given name, and
when they make it their sole aim in life to
brutally expose "the truth," it is perhaps
because they have had their ego badly bruised,
their enthusiasm shattered to bits and their
idealism ridiculed. And they have nothing to
show for it apart from a job-title that
generally inspires little more than
trepidation, if a little intrigue.
It's a vicious cycle really. And a shame,
because the tango is a magnificently intimate,
passionate and harmonious dance, if only both
partners weren't trying to lead, or stepping
callously on each other's toes. A gracious
dancing partner, even one every blue moon, can
be an unforgettable pleasure, and often the
prime reason to keep one going in the quest
for the next similar hexing-fix.
A genuinely talented and skilled partner can
swirl you and twist you in a fantastically
effortless way, and you can do the same to
them, feeling like you're flying through a
fresh breeze of summer flowers. Above all, you
can come away certain that not only was your
initial choice right, but that you've both
done your best to make the effort appeal to
the world, and not only appear, but actually
have been, perfectly magical and incontestable
in its result. |
