I once interviewed a psychologist from the US for a radio programme I was presenting. She was the friend of a friend of mine and was staying in Ireland for six months so I invited them for dinner with their spouses and friends. Six adults and four ten- and eleven-year-olds sat around the table and in the course of a conversation I expounded on my theory that whatever else my children did wrong, I would not tolerate them telling lies. ‘Always tell the truth’ was my mantra.
The psychologist smiled wryly as she proposed that we go round the table and see if anyone had told a lie that very day, assuring us that she would bet every one of us had. She disarmingly began with herself and owned up to a lie she told on arriving at my house. I acknowledged that I’d responded with a lie to something she said not long after. One by one, going round that table each person, adult and child admitted to a lie they’d told that day. I’ve never forgotten that experience as it taught me how easily I can slip into a self-righteous belief (I don’t tell lies) that is actually a far cry from the truth.
Of course most of us would wish, as does the Pope, that people would always respect the truth, including those in the media who can reach so many people. But as a result of that dinner revelation, I am wary of ‘them and us’ distinctions that make it too easy to expect others to live up to standards that I don’t reach myself, however unknowingly. In over thirty years of working in the media I can say that the majority of my colleagues did indeed have respect for the truth, but that didn’t mean they always got things right.
There were, of course, those who didn’t care about truth or solidarity and I haven’t forgotten the impact of what they did, being at the receiving end of it myself. Some years before my journalist career, I and a Jesuit colleague were working on a peace-building programme with a group from both sides of the divide in the North, including ex-paramilitaries. As it was a particularly violent and volatile time in local communities, secrecy was very important. However, we woke on the Sunday to find that a newspaper journalist had got wind of the meeting and not only reported on it without having spoken to any of us, but in glowing terms attributed the organising of the event to a quite well-known individual who had nothing to do with it. The article struck real fear in some of the participants, but there was little we could do, and to ask for a retraction would only highlight the event again.
There was no regard for truth and solidarity in that instance and today, with the huge proliferation of media and new media outlets (e-newspapers, websites, blogging, twitter, facebook) truth is often a casualty, and the notion of solidarity with those whom we are writing about often not even considered.
But that’s not to say that journalists must always be in solidarity with those they report on. Part of the role of the media is to be ‘the fourth estate’, challenging the orthodoxy of any power-base, political, financial or religious, that undermines the dignity of the human being.
Many media outlets do this very well, but there is a growing pressure or desire on the part of many media people to exploit their fellow men and women in order to be successful. Confessional radio and TV abounds, but a person’s dignity is not respected when the interviewer drags every private or sordid detail from the interviewee, sympathetic but secretly delighted when they break down in tears. And there are a growing number of audience programmes where ‘guest nobodies’ fight out their problems – sometimes physically until restrained by bouncers. Indecent and intrusive photographs still abound – even the dead are not spared, and unedifying private details of people’s lives are made public without any regard to their families or friends. Even attempts to discover and nurture the talents of our young often ends in their ritual public humiliation before an audience of millions.
I could go on but I prefer to come back to my opening story – it’s not us versus them. The media is part of who we are in our society and culture. We share a common humanity, common failings and a common responsibility to make our media work better for us all. Those who work in the media have responsibilities as outlined by the Pope’s message to them. But we too have responsibilities in this area, and if we feel powerless over the media – which we are not – we are not powerless over ourselves. We don’t have to be uncritical media consumers – we can turn off the switch, retune the dial, and stop buying the paper. We can make our voices heard and publicly support the work of good journalists whilst challenging the unacceptable. It’s much harder than just having a good old gripe about the ‘meeja’, but it may mean that the Pope’s wish becomes more than just a pious but ultimately ineffectual aspiration.
Pat Coyle has worked as a journalist and broadcaster, having produced the ‘Pat Kenny Show’ on televison and programmes such as Liveline and Cross Currents on RTE Radio 1. She has produced and presented her own religious programmes both on TV and radio. Pat comes from Derry, and lives now in Dublin. Pat is currently employed as Communications Manager at the Jesuit Communication Centre (JCC) in Dublin.