From Watchdogs to Lapdogs

LONGTIME CBS anchorman Dan Rather criticised the performance of the American fourth estate in a keynote speech at The South by Southwest Interactive recently.
The renowned newsman, said that American journalism had in some ways “lost its guts” when it came to questioning power especially in times of war.
Rather left CBS following the questionable veracity of a story he covered on President Bush going AWOL during his military service, "In many ways," said Rather "what we in journalism need is a spine transplant."
"I do not exclude myself from this criticism. By and large, so many journalists-there are notable exceptions-have adopted the go-along-to-get-along attitude,” he said. Often news reporters are influenced by politicians and corporate organizations who cultivate friendly relations with the media.
"The nexus between powerful journalists and people in government and corporate power," he said, "has become far too close."
Rather also said that the concentration of media ownership has hurt the search for the truth in newsrooms. “As media conglomerates get bigger, the gap between newsrooms and boardrooms grows, and the goal becomes satisfying shareholders, not citizens.” He said.
Rather, now working for HDNet network, saw a lot of potential for new forms of journalism, especially the citizen journalist. He touched on the state of the Internet as a way to get information and news to people.
"The Internet is a tremendous tool for not just news, (because) its potential is unlimited for that," Rather said, but for "illumination and opening things up." Rather was unsure how to strike the right balance between professional and citizen journalism, but asserted that the market would eventually sort this out.

Privacy and Free Speech

IN TODAY'S ‘media-saturated environment’ a democratic society relies on various conduits of information-be they analogue or digital, satellite or bongo drum-for the communication of relevant news and ideas. For it is “the central purpose of journalism to tell the truth so that people will have the information they need to be sovereign.”
This modern forum, or what Habermas called ‘the public sphere’ , is where culture is formed and history recorded. It is thus that “citizens necessarily depend on the multitudinous media to be informed.” Here, in an ideal democracy, journalism may, as media theorist Monroe puts it, “serve as an envelope for the gelling of views so as to have an influence on the state and to render its decisions more responsive.”
Due to the media’s importance in shaping public-opinion and “recent research on agenda-setting has seen that media do exert significant influence”. It is often a target for institutional or organisational interests which fear ‘negative publicity’ and

depend on voter, client or customer goodwill, […] while fearing news that can endanger that goodwill. As a result they often react almost immediately to ‘bad’ news and may alter their […] public behaviour in response to it.” Gains

Lord Reith, founder of the BBC, tried to reinforce the impartiality and balance of the media in Britain by assigning to it a ‘public service’ remit. He sought to imbue state broadcasting with a responsibility to ‘inform, educate and entertain’ which would protect the ‘public sphere’ from the “biased ideological dominance of market values.”

“the element that contributes to excellence in public-service [news media] is the development of a system that is immunized from direct government intervention.” Edwin Monroe

The ownership and control of private media organisations however, has proved an easily subverted link in this chain of information. “The [news-media] is unable to tell us what to think, but it is stunningly successful in telling us what to think about.” Journalist and critic Walter Lippmann believed that neither public nor journalist were capable of making informed decisions: that was the domain of the ‘Policymakers’ . I believe here is where the battle for the public sphere (and public opinion) is being waged. The journalist subverts the policymaker with real news and the policymaker undermines journalism with ‘messages’. It is Chomsky’s assertion that

“In today’s world, the aim [of the reporter] should be to attack institutions while trying at the same time to pry them open to more meaningful public participation”

The ownership and control of private media organisations however, has proved an easily subverted link in this chain of information.

“The [news-media] is unable to tell us what to think, but it is stunningly successful in telling us what to think about.” Cohen

Journalist and critic Walter Lippmann believed that neither public nor journalist were capable of making informed decisions: that was the domain of the ‘Policymakers’ .

“In the reporter’s gallery there yonder sat a Fourth Estate more important than they all […] He who can speak, speaking now to the whole nation, becomes a power, a branch of government. It matters not what rank he has, what revenues or garnitures: the requisite thing is that he have a tongue which others will listen to.”
Edmund Burke

For the week that's in it

I found a link to this blast from the past on Sluggerotoole. Seems appropriate given the nascent government in the North. Let's hope we can put all the distrust behind us. Politics is always a better alternative than violence.

The Day of Justice

A CELL-PHONE'S shrill tones shocked me awake. I was apologising, not even fully conscious yet. "Sorry, I've gotta go, I'm late." I was due at The Four Courts, that bastion of Irish justice, in order to get a story for Advanced News Reporting class. The case was scheduled for 11:00, my phone read 10:25. Shower, brush, dress, gone.
The LUAS deposited me outside the courts at 11:09.


The entrance, through those old doric columns, to the wonderful atrium within was closed off now. The grand public entrance from the quays, which gave one such a feeling of awe and respect for this venerable old building, was dusted in traffic grime, and barred away.
Instead I was required to run rat-like through a security porta-cabin maze.
By the time I found the sultry-eyed receptionist, I was sweating. I tried to be as charming as possible and asked her if there were any interesting cases today.
She shrugged, “Well there’s a murder case in court two.”
I was wearing my magic shirt you see. The shirt summons serendipity.
I walked hurriedly on squeaky shoes through the domed nexus. They echoed up into the great cupola, I was late.

On entering a court
I’ve entered several courts in my day, sometimes on the right side, and sometimes the left. And I have established that there is a way of entering a court. To take one’s place. This is not just a case of choosing a seat and sitting. Lordy no. There is more to this. One becomes a cog, a small one, in the system of democracy.

BTW if you see ‘In camera’ on the door, it means disrobe and enter with gusto.

But forget about lame metaphors. There is an actual physical demeanor one assumes upon entering a Court. You can see it in the people - wigged or without - if you wait and watch. Citizens enter: the meek, the fixtures, the trailblazer, the young guns, the head honcho. Each has a way of entering because each has a reason for being there.
Enter a courtroom with respect but remember that the room has been furnished for the administration of justice in public by the state. Its mandate is to serve justice for, and to, the citizens of the republic. The laws that bind it serve the citizen’s purpose. In a democracy, after all, the only regent is the citizen.

A 27-year-old man has gone on trial charged with the murder of a man in Dublin almost two years ago. Derek Wade pleaded not guilty to the murder and attempted robbery of Zhi Song in Rialto in the early hours of 29 June 2005.

Entering like a meek little mouse in a spot-light I scampered over to a safe corner. I spied a girl from my class in bowed discussion with another, tapped her on the shoulder and smiled – she glanced a smile back at me before returning to her business. Around me journalists were scribbling; I scribbled. While I was scribbling I noticed that two stiff wing-collared, wig bedecked Senior Council were talking to another big-wig at the head of Court. Judge Barry White presiding. He had razors for eyes.
I have an organic resentment of most authority. It is in my nature. Scenes from Kafka and Dostoevsky became backdrops in my mind. It was all I could do to keep a sneer off my face. Disguising them as facial twitches I practiced a few. I began to feel prominent and resented. Hunching over my pad I scribbled passionately until the madness inside me subsided.
As my heart rate returned and the sweat cooled in my magic shirt I began to hear a three-way discussion. Senior Council for the defense O'Higgins, informed the Court that his client was not yet ready to appear. His opposition, a seemingly deflated wig on a scarecrow, with fly-away hairs from his curls, sunk in his seat, and mumbled. A decision seemed to coalesce. The Jury was excused and filed out, the case was adjourned ‘till 14:00.
As the judge left we rose in unison like some congregation. I always feel the same when compelled to observe ritual. Like a hypocrite. But as I filed out, I saw two haggard Chinese faces, and my reverence turned natural. I bowed my head and looked at my shoes as I passed the victim’s parents.

During the break for lunch I returned home to retrieve my laptop. Making my way along Marlboro Street, just outside the Pro Cathedral I passed a trio of uniformed teenage school girls. One of them called at an African woman who was passing them by, "Yo Niggah!". I slowed to a halt, and looked at her. The African woman said back at them "You racist."
"What do you think you're doing?" I spluttered, outraged. Wispy fingers of red blush streaked over her cheeks.
"I didn't do nothing." Panic in her voice.
"You can't go shouting racist slurs like that."
"I didn't say nothing."
Her green jumper bore the logo of Larkin Community College.
"You cannot talk that way to people. I'm going to inform your school of your behaviour."
Walking on, I imagined a bottle smashing into the back of my head, paranoid. Passing the African woman an apology heaved out of me. She smiled and thanked me. She was pretty.

When I returned to the Four Courts, 12:40, the place was like a big empty church. All the wigs and suits were feeding somewhere. I enjoyed the growing squeak squawk of my shoes on the marble floor. It gave my pace a depth, echoing off these hallowed arches. Only this brief sound would mark my passage. There then gone.
As I entered the cupola, I barely spied the father of Zhi Song sitting quietly. His face was a deep wound, raw and terrible. Looking at him was like looking at oncoming headlights on a lonely night-time highway, it hurt. Just inside the court, a young Chinese translator laughed into his cell-phone. Their only son was dead.

The following news piece was a submission for a college assignment - but it doesn't adequately portray what transpired as the verdict gathered like a dooming wave.

Wade found guilty of murder

After two and a half hours deliberation, Derek Wade from Rialto, Dublin was found guilty tonight of the murder of Mr. Zhi Song (23) on June 29th 2005.

The victim’s parents wept openly in court when Mr. Wade was convicted of stabbing Mr. Song, a Chinese national, during a foiled robbery in his home on Reuben Avenue, South Circular Road.

The jury of 6 men and 5 women also found Wade guilty of the attempted robbery of Ms. Xiau Wen Zhou, Mr. Song's girlfriend, in her separate bedroom immediately prior to the murder.

Ms. Zhou said she was “frightened” when she awoke about five AM to find Wade, who had armed himself with a meat cleaver and chef’s knife from the kitchen, searching her room. She addressed him first in Chinese then in English. He told her to: “Give me your purse, and I won’t hurt you.”

Wade denied that he intended to use the knife, claiming that the 16cm wound that fatally injured Song’s heart and lung had been an accident that happened as he had tried to escape. “It was in case of being caught, I had no intention of using the knife.” Wade told the courtroom.

In testimony the pathologist was sceptical of Wade’s explanation that Mr. Song had impaled himself on Wade’s knife and the prosecuting SC Noel Birmingham roundly rejected the defendant’s claim. “It's as plain as a pikestaff that there was a killing," He said. "The prosecution contends murder.”

The accused admitted that he had been coached to say “she must be mistaken”, if he was identified by Ms. Zhou in a line-up. But Ms. Zhou identified Wade, despite having dyed his hair a different colour.

Mr Wade, who was acquitted of a similiar charge in 1999, will be sentenced on Monday.

If you want to read my version of the final day of the Wade trial [click here] and the file.

Below is a vid reel of interviews with Mick, Niell, James and Darren about the case and their opinions of proceedings and a final clip of Zhi Song's parents leaving the Four Courts (apologies for poor sound on some interviews).

Rip-Off DCU

Monday morning is a great time for some 'on-the-ground' reportage. The students of DCU were eager to have their say. One issue that came up repeatedly was the price of things in DCU.

To fill you in, in 2006 DCU students got talking about the higher than average prices of consumer products and catering on DCU campus. Several protests were planned to give vent to student's evident frustration. The Student's Union excuted a pseudo-picket on SPAR and the catering establishments on campus. Management declined to address student's concerns. The Union even tried to offer snacks at normal rates from a room in college buildings, but after DCU Admin got wind of it the Union's people were locked out.
The picket was broken.
Or was it. I found this charming vid on YouTube Rip-off DCU campaign vid Ah yes those were the days, their blood was up (too much starbucks I think) and they believed they could change things. The swagger of youth, bah, give 'em a decade in a 9-5 see how marxist they are then, hrrrumph!



So the jig is up. Students without parental support through their DCU experience continue to pack their lunches and drink from the water fountain. But they dream, yet still, of an ice cool Coke and a slice of that delicious strawberry cheese cake they pass every day in the canteen. If only one had the 5.50 price.

Anywho, here's Celina, Darren, Eoin and Richard.



I also enquired as to my fellow student's opinions about blogging. I've been doing this a lot lately, because frankly the term 'blog' is amorphous. Its definition seems to be constantly in a state of flux depending on the evolution of technology which a blog may encompass. Take this blog, for example. Movies, links, feeds, text, pictures; the variety of media that can be brought to bear is limited only by one's imagination. I asked Celina, Richard and Eoin about blogging.

Disclaimer

This is a disclaimer of liability. Ain't nobody taking me to court.



And a preview of my favorite south park episode.



here's a link to a great episode of South Park.

Blog around the Block

A curious serendipity, that I should meet some of the winners of the Irish Blog Awards http://awards.ie/blogawards, on the night when I was considering starting my own blog (as a college assignment for my Online Journalism class).
A blog, according to Damien Mulley (shortlisted for the Irish Blog Awards 2007), is a sort of journal. Posted by individuals to display information.

Definition: an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; also called [Weblog], [Web log] Typically updated daily, blogs often reflect the personality of the author.

I decided to try and vary the formats of info for this blog for two reasons.

1) The mandate for this college assignment is to use a variety of media.
2) The blogging medium is a hybrid itself and so deserves a hybrid format.

I used video to document my investigations.

We started off in Sin é be the quays. A friend, a pint, and a lunar eclipse.



For a period of two hours the moon waned and waxed into a milky grey soup of sun shadow. Each time I stepped out for a fag would I find her in varying states of undress. What was most enjoyable about the eclipse was the reaction of people on the streets of Dublin. They stood, cigarette, pint or can in hand and gazed up at the darkening spectacle, like children looking for Santa. It added a mysterious spice to the night.
Click here for good shot of the eclipse

Barry suggested a party.

Off we went to the Westin on Westmoreland.



A blond girl in a little black number, Sorcha, was celebrating her birthday. I was kind of gatecrashing this do. So I deemed it necessary to congratulate the birthday girl.
"So what age are you, I'd swear not a day over 23." A gentleman should always round down in such circumstances.
Sorcha laughed and looked at my friend Barry, with whom she was aquainted, as if to say, 'so where did you get this guy from?' But she smiled graciously and enquired whether I was enjoying myself.
"Very much so my dear." I enthused. I thought about complimenting her on her charming attire, a figure-hugging black dress with heart decorated lace around her waist, but decided that would be too forward. Instead I began a tedious gush about the lilting jazz band in the far corner of the room.
I was comfortably ensconced by the flowing taps of The Mint Bar in the Westin Hotel, when two individuals arrived. One proudly produced a green box, contained within was a glittering glass trophy; Best Group Blog 2007.
We gathered around them, I got talking to Colm. Their blog was sports related, and the guys , one introduced himself as Colm the other as Paddy O'Reilly, seemed cool, so we chatted for a while.
The award winners were modestly lapping up the attention. Colm politely answered my grilling about blogs, what they were, what one could do with one. He told me to email him if I needed any advice or info. Displaying a good deal of largesse he agreed to pose for a quick video (unfortunately the light level was very low & my camera switched off half-way through.Oops)

Also the video below is a kind of ultra-low quality fugue/montage of my night, so its news value is almost zilch and the camerawork deteriorates concurrent with how much pints I consumed as the night progressed. If you want to briefly glimpse Colm & Paddy fastforward to 1.18; oh and eh...apologies for the poor editing, sound, lighting, structure, content etc.