Archive for the ‘journalism’ Category

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The 1,000 Mile Marriage (Part 1 of 3)

July 25, 2010

This is a the first part of a feature article I wrote last fall for a UBC journalism class taught by The Tyee editor David Beers and music writer Chris Smith. In all the thesis-completion stress (and successive internships), I never ended up shopping it around.   ****GUILT****  It’s a little too late now, hence it’s here. Fer nothin’. Hope you like it. (Part 2 here, Part 3 here)

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Alison Wilson hunts for patterns in her stippled-ceiling condominium. She can’t sleep. Her next door neighbour’s ill-mannered medical equipment isn’t helping. The signal rattles past paint, drywall and eardrum before swimming through her cochlea and pounding her brain.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Photo by Marina Avila (Flickr cc)

It’s life in a suburban-Toronto old folk’s home. But unlike her neighbours, Wilson’s no senior. She doesn’t even deem her Oakville home home. At 29, Wilson is decades from honing shuffleboard skills or jazzercise techniques. You’re more likely to find her on Skype or cranking out a final email at the end of an already-too-long workday.

Wilson is one of a legion 20- to 30-somethings living in a commuter marriage, relationships where dual career advancement trumps the expense and pain of having to maintain two homes, often hundreds and sometimes thousands of miles apart.

According to the latest census figures, 556,000 married Canadians don’t live with their partners. But that statistic is unwieldy and blunt. The assumption that couples live together is so firmly entrenched, statisticians simply lump commuter couples with unravelling or strained marriages. Nobody knows how many are out there.

Yet a number of signs point to the increasing importance of commuting marriage as a strategy for balancing the demands of work and home. Relationships are changing: first comes life, then comes marriage (maybe), then comes an average of one-point-six baby carriages. Careers too. Job security and company loyalty is decreasing, flexibility is an asset, and more women are primary breadwinners with advanced degrees. Pieced together, it points to an increasing likelihood that tying the knot doesn’t mean either partner will give up on the career ladder.

While commuter marriage may appear robust, it may soon be headed for life support. In addition to persistent questions about social and psychological costs, the sustainability problem refuses to go away.

Photo by epsos.de (Flickr cc)

It all boils down to quality of life. Debating a commute? You’ll probably factor in money, career benefits, and opportunities. Living it? One thing stands out: the chasm between the worlds of work and home.

Wilson’s life epitomizes the brutal split. Nearly every Friday afternoon, the elderly Ontarian ambles onto a plane, wearily heading 3,200 km west to a south Edmonton duplex. Three days later, she returns a vibrant twenty-something Albertan, whipping out laptop and iPod for a 3 hour, 36 minute “bus ride.”

Double life came via marriage. Alison met her partner, Travis, during a 2002 engineering co-op semester in Lloydminster. Travis eventually followed her back to Edmonton. She caught on at a general contracting firm, while he landed in Refinery Row. They married in 2007.

When Wilson decided to pursue project management, she needed experience as a “project coordinator” to get there. Back-to-back projects in Edmonton were cancelled, but a charmed third chance appeared last fall in the intial stages of economic collapse. The only snag? A one-year move to Toronto, plus two more at a bitumen mine on the outskirts of Fort McMurray. Alison and Travis bit the bullet.

“Do I want the experience or do I want to turn it down?” Wilson deadpans the dilemma over the phone. Having just returned to Edmonton, her voice crackles from jet-lag and a common cold.

“Maybe I don’t get anything and I don’t have that opportunity to further my career..”

Life took an “adult living” twist when a bright-eyed realtor walked Wilson through a fully-furnished complex close to work. Things took a strange turn at the basement rec facilities.

“The realtor said, ‘Look! There’s a putting green and full-on shuffleboard layout, and oh! Do you like swimming?’”

Confused, Wilson pressed on and bobbed her head neutrally.

“She shows me this pool. You can lower your wheelchair into the pool. Really, really shallow. Then she takes me into the workout room and it’s these two-pound and one-pound weights. And I’m like, ‘Something’s not right here.’”

Everything became clear when Wilson entered the “fully-catered” dining room and saw a sea of trifocals and grey hair.

“I’m thinking, ‘Holy shit, this is a retirement home!’ I had no idea.”

Since Wilson is over 18, no legal impediments prevent her from renting the condo. And since Wilson wasn’t in Oakville for the wheelchair-accessibility, her agent bagged a commission.

It may suit her needs, but Wilson refuses to let her condo become home. She has no plants. She even leaves her makeup in an airport-ready ziploc bag as a way of signalling to herself that this is not permanent.

“Travis is like, ‘Why don’t you put stuff away, why don’t you make this place homier?’” says Wilson. “I wouldn’t ever try to make it feel like my home.”

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The Sexual Abuse Crisis: Deliver us from Evil and Doubt

July 20, 2010

It’s one of the most difficult religion stories of the past three decades.

And it’s far from over. How could it be?

Glen's Pics (Flickr Creative Commons)

Over the past decade, the Catholic church has been rocked by sexual abuse scandals around the world. And for virtually every sin of commission (an abuse victim coming forward), there seems to have been multiple sins of omission (allegations that offenses went unpunished by bishops, archbishops, etc).

The sins of omission are possibly more damning than the crimes themselves. It’s one thing to have sexual abuse within the Church – should we ever be surprised that abuse is coupled with spiritual power? – but it’s another to simply shuffle an admitted child molester to another parish and a new set of victims. Former Los Angeles Times religion reporter Bill Lobdell says that the Church’s attempts at obfuscation led him to abandon his faith.

The New York Times recently published a 4,000-word feature attributing the sin of omission to Pope Benedict XVI. The piece has had some mixed responses. Some media watchers have labeled the coverage as a “tendentious hatchet job.” Mark Silk, on the other hand, is on the side of defending the piece as essentially accurate, if only in need of slight editorial revisions. But whether or not you think Pope Benedict is responsible for hiding the abuse (or think he’s finally exposing it), it’s clear that the scandal will be one of the dismal legacies of his papacy.

Last week, the Vatican announced revisions to canon law surrounding sexual abuse. For one, they doubled the statue of limitations for prosecuting abusive priests. A second change aimed at streamlining legal procedures for prosecution of sex abuse cases.

Critics are virtually unanimous in saying the revisions don’t go far enough. The Church has responded that it’s only a first step. The most glaring omission is that the Church is not requiring mandatory reporting of all allegations of abuse. Here’s the Edmonton Journal’s editorial response:

The Church’s response is particularly galling in light of everything we now know — from lawsuits, criminal trials and public inquiries — of its own role in keeping those allegations secret for so long.

For the Vatican to now appear to be doing anything less than everything possible to prevent future abuse is a betrayal of past victims. But it is also a betrayal of the millions of Catholics who have given their lives to the Church and trusted in its teachings to guide them along a moral path.

It’s hard to write anything other than something along those lines. This is a horrific story with clear perpetrators and clear victims. Steps taken in response to abuse need to be commensurate with the problem. More is needed.

I’ve decided to write a bit about two movies I’ve watched in recent months about sexual abuse in the Church. I highly recommend both films. Both attempt to deliver something more than just criminals and victims and graphic details. Both attempt to provide psychological insights into sexual abusers and the inability of an institution to recognize its fallibility. These are lessons that extend beyond the confines of the Catholic Church.

Deliver Us From Evil (2006): Amy Berg’s documentary offers a unique glimpse into the mind of an abusive priest, Oliver O’Grady.  Between the 1973 until the early 1990s, Fr. Ollie abused numerous children (at least 25) in a series of Northern Californian parishes. After one of the earliest instances of abuse in 1976, O’Grady wrote a letter of apology to the victim’s parents. The parents agreed not to press charges on the condition that O’Grady was to be removed, receive counseling, and not to work with children.

Instead of being removed from the priesthood, O’Grady was passed to another parish within two years, and eventually three other parishes by the time he was convicted on four counts of lewd and lascivious acts in 1993. After spending seven years in prison, he was shuffled back to his native Ireland, where he resided on a Church pension until this film was released. He has since been chased to new locations, most recently the Netherlands, where he was found calling himself “Brother Francis” and helping out at a local church.

Amazingly, O’Grady (or Father Ollie) agreed to be interviewed in the documentary. Father Ollie is a fascinating, even charismatic character (he describes himself as a “people person), eloquently expressing remorse and freely accepting blame (and any label handed him). With Irish whimsy, he delineates the circumstances around the abuse, describes his own moral dilemmas and twisted logic. He describes in detail his interactions with ecclesiastical hierarchy and how he was continually handed new opportunities to abuse. He admits that he should have been removed and more should have been done. He also hopes to make things right by writing a letter to each of his victims.

Deliver us from Evil is most effective when it counters Father Ollie’s testimony with that of his victims and their families. In contrast to the priest’s easy candor, feigned lapses in memory, and over-reliance on euphemisms, his victims are wounded, scarred, and angry. It’s clear Father Ollie is still the sick manipulator who devoted much of his priestly energies to grooming victims, and it’s clear he doesn’t really get what he did. His suggested solution, to meet his victims face-to-face and apologize (hoping not for a hug, but perhaps a handshake), is essentially akin to re-victimization.

Towards the end, however, the film gets sidetracked with heavy-handed moral outrage (the newscast seen at the beginning of this clip). Abuse victims pull a stunt at the Vatican. Crusaders for victims rights are given free reign to analyze the shortcomings of the Church. It’s a shame, really, because the message doesn’t really need reiteration or amplification. It’s damning enough on its own.

Doubt (2008): Not a documentary, but a play-turned feature. Doubt’s stellar cast includes Meryl Streep as a harsh, authoritarian nun, Amy Adams as a young, slightly naive nun, and Philip Seymour Hoffman as a young, charismatic priest.

Adams stands in for the viewer, a new arrival at a Catholic school in the Bronx in 1964, trying to understand the internal politics of the place.

Give credit to Hoffman for a nearly flawless performance of a priest who is a gifted communicator, a modernizer, and yet falls under suspicion. Streep is brilliant as always, in her portrayal of a hurt human being who only allows herself to be the school’s no nonsense bad cop.

It’s hard to say much else about this film. It’s heartbreaking.

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A day in the life of a crime reporter: My new gig!

April 29, 2010

Sixteen hours after finishing my final UBC paper, I landed my first full-time journalism gig!

After May in India and June in Toronto, I’ll be returning to the Edmonton Journal as the new cop desk reporter.

For a taste of what the next year (+) of my life will be like (i.e. listening to scanners), check out Ryan Jackson’s profile of former Journal cop reporters Elise Stolte and Ryan Cormier:

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Sports journalism and public relations: The increasingly fuzzy line

April 28, 2010

An interesting discussion is happening over at one of my favourite hockey blogs, Kent Wilson’s Five Hole Fanatics, and at David Staples’s blog at the Edmonton Journal. Freelance blogger and journalist-turned-blogger both ask a key question (implicitly or explicitly): does having access to the Oilers or Flames locker rooms actually result in valuable analysis?

The answer, according to Wilson, is a decided meh.

This discussion overlaps with a case study I finished last week for my media ethics class where I talked about the somewhat incestuous relationship between sports journalists and PR. Do sports journalists (or other journalists) maintain a healthy enough distance from their subjects?

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Sports coverage is not exactly known for its hard-hitting investigative journalism.

Katie Stein (Flickr CC)

A sports reporter, more often than not, is a curmudgeonly homer with an affection for puns and classic rock references. Occasional criticism of a local team may involve a question or two about management or coaching decisions, but that’s a rarity. Part armchair coach, part booster, sports reporters pump stories full of quotes and do what they can to keep fans watching, listening, reading.

Teams, in turn, carefully cultivate this relationship to mutual benefit. It’s rare when a sports journalist breaks a story about troubled team dynamics, but equally rare when pundits step out of line and are denied access. When CBC’s Ron Maclean was critical of the on-ice theatrics of Vancouver Canuck Alexandre Burrows, the Canucks refused interviews with CBC the next week. Such incidents are few and far between.

Beyond the obvious symbiosis, the relationship between press and professional sports is often cozier than commonly known.

An editor at the Vancouver Courier did a double take last February while attending a Canucks game. Lisa Smedman noticed Shane Foxman, the CBC TV sports reporter for Vancouver, working the jumbotron crowd, pumping up ‘Nucks fans to yell their signature, “Luuuuuuuuu.” By day, Foxman covered the team for CBC, but was moonlighting with the club as an announcer and commercial break entertainer.

She was perplexed at the apparent conflict of interest. How could he be objective in his reporting on the Canucks while essentially working in their PR department?

Smedman – a prolific science fiction and fantasy writer who has only occasionally worked as a journalist – has a bit of an outsider vantage point on the big journalism outlets. As a result, she ran with the ethical conundrum in the pages of the Courier, repeatedly indicating her discomfort with Foxman’s dual role:

Does this mean CBC news anchor Ian Hanomansing could moonlight for the Board of Trade or VANOC? Or Ron Maclean for the Leafs? Foxman does a fine job on the CBC, but shouldn’t even the appearance of a conflict of interest be a concern?

She approached the local CBC for clarification and was rebuffed. The BC news director didn’t see a conflict in the situation. There’s a clear distinction between sports and news, she was told; Foxman’s part-time gig could be positive for CBC news ratings, since a more recognizable TV personality is a better draw for local viewers.

These kinds of curious relationships are not isolated to a single broadcaster or medium. A few months after the Courier article, the Olympics offered further examples of apparent conflicts of interest. CTV reporters took flack for running lengths of the torch relay, awkwardly stepping into the story they used to only cover.

A lesser known kerfuffle happened when Tyee reporter Andrew Macleod broke a story about Jeff Lee, Olympic reporter for the Vancouver Sun. Despite his full-time assignment of covering an international event with only a slim majority of local approval, Lee collected payment for a feature article written for the IOC’s magazine. The early 2009 editions of Olympic Report featured “Feeling the Buzz” a pillowy soft feature penned by Lee which chronicled ongoing preparations for the 2010 Olympics.

Jeff Lee speaking to the Pacific Pin Club in Vancouver

To underline the point that Lee’s piece was mere advertorial, Macleod quoted Lee’s piece and mentioned IOC chief Jacques Rogge’s foreword. Despite assuming a predominantly neutral tone in the rest of the piece, and allowing plenty of space for Lee to object and inject a final word, the result is the clear allegation of a conflict of interest (and a plea for disclosure of similar conflicts):

Wrote Lee, “In the six years since that moment in Prague, the Vancouver Organizing Committee (VANOC), with Furlong still at its helm, has continued to move mountains, if not literally then certainly figuratively.”

Corporate sponsors have brought “financial muscle” to the organization, venues have been built on time, buyers have snapped up tickets and the games include economic and cultural opportunities for indigenous people, he found.

“More importantly, Canada as a country adopted the message of the Olympic movement as a unifying force for humankind through sports.”

Doctors may be the worst patients, but journalists can clearly make for poor interviews. Lee didn’t help his case with his response. Obviously annoyed that his journalistic integrity was being called into question, Lee turned defensive and snarky. He scolded Macleod for a “bullshit” accusation of impropriety, called it a “cheap shot,” “mischief making,” and an “attack story” before the article had even been posted. In his own defense, he insisted his editors had been okay with the piece and that his relationship with VANOC was duly strained due to less than flattering coverage in the Sun. After the online article appeared, Lee popped up in the comment section, lambasting anonymous readers for not actually owning up to their criticism of his integrity.

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These two stories had several common features. Both Foxman and Lee were called in question for using specialist knowledge to sell cheerleading services on a freelance basis. Both had the blessing of employers who didn’t believe the outside work affected their daily coverage.

The Courier and Tyee articles were also similar in construction and tone. Both were written by journalists at small media outlets criticizing senior journalists at major media organizations (with a history of trying to take on the big guys). Both invoked the opinions of “experts” who claimed there was a mild but preventable breech of trust. And both stories were framed in ways that portrayed a journalist in a conflict of interest.

But were either of these media types violating their journalistic allegiance to citizens? An interesting question with a less than obvious answer.

If you assume a covenant between journalist and the public, it seems a bit of a slam dunk. Given the choice to appear more or less ethical, it’s a no-brainer to err on the side of scruples. If the question is framed as whether or not to operate on both sides of the blurry line of press and PR? Again, slam dunk.

A mitigating factor in these stories, however, is the nature of the reporting. Because sports or entertainment reporting often involves semi-boosterism, there may be less of a public expectation of neutrality. The CBC sports reporter was singled out by Smedman partly because he works for the public broadcaster, which meant an additional set of expectations not typically demanded from other outlets. Foxman moonlights on the weekends as an announcer for the team, a local radio reporter performs the same task on weekdays. Smedman felt less of a breech of ethics for the radio persona.

But is there really much danger in sports reporters performing PR roles? Should the protection of integrity be the responsibility of the journalist or the media corporation informed about the freelance work? Smedman’s article raises these questions in another, analogous way. While it’s one thing for Foxman to plug the Canucks to paying customers, it might be different if Ian Hanomansing was working as a communications liaison for the Vancouver Board of Trade. But news anchors routinely appear as moderators or public speakers at corporate functions. When do these appearances become a violation of a public covenant? If I were to hazard a guess, I would argue that it depends on the job and the way in which the journalist presents themselves. In addition, politics seem a special case: journalists cross the line when they enter the political realm and side with a particular party. In any case, public figures run the risk of overexposure.

A second mitigating factor is the changing economic climate facing conventional journalism, means increased contract and freelance work. A sharp distinction between journalism and communications quickly disappears when you’re trying to make ends meet. In a freelance climate, journalists can see themselves not so much as truth-seeking servants of the public sphere, but as hired communicators serving the needs of corporate contract partners in exchange for a clearly delineated time and payment. The onus in freelance journalism shifts mostly to the media organization, which has to sell the integrity of its journalistic product. The public, meanwhile, increasingly must play a role in differentiating between types of information.

Regardless of whether Foxman and Lee are considered guilty of compromising their integrity, the too cozy relationship between press and sports may already be shaping the future of sports reporting. In the last five or so years, a proliferation of blogs have sprung up around most professional sports teams. Instead of relying on expensive access to athletes, legions of minimally-paid but passionate hockey bloggers rely on several advanced statistical methods of analysis which factor in possession, puck movement, chances, and quality of competition.

Communities of devoted fans form as lively discussion boards provide a high level of interaction with other passionate fans. Many assume that mainstream media (or “MSM,” that blogger’s cuss word) is too close to team machinations to provide sound feedback.

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My summer vacation, or How I stopped worrying and embraced a future in journalism

March 25, 2010

End of semester is upon us. For me, this is the END of end of semesters, my last gasp at full-time grad school. Hopefully. For now.

Employed? Is this a... what day is this?

All of which raises the inevitable question (especially for a would-be journalist):

WHAT NEXT???

While I’m feverishly putting together essays and final drafts for my thesis project, I’ve been solidifying some plans for the summer so I don’t end up simply abiding a la El Duderino (no, I’m not into that brevity thing).

Come to think of it, the guy can roll, and I HATE the Eagles. Plus I like his style… it’s like he… he just fits right in there.

So I’ve got certain information, all right? Certain things have come to light to make sure I don’t have to fix cable for a living.

First, I’m off to India in May for a trip with my spouse and her family, stopping in the Himalayas, Dehli, Kolkata, and Kochi (among many others).

Along the way, I’ll make sure to get my perfunctory “lifting the Taj Mahal” picture.

I’ll also be posting picture highlights and hopefully upload a few videos so you can get a taste of the experience.

After that?

TA-DA!

That’s right. I’ll fly directly to Toronto for a four-week gig at CBC Radio’s Tapestry program.

I’m absolutely excited to get a chance to put my religious studies and journalism training to work on one of the most engaging hours in Canadian radio.

After that?

As they say in the biz, “More to come…”

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To scarf or not to scarf

March 18, 2010

I won it at a news conference in late December.

Red and black plaid, with C A N A D A proudly emblazoned on its back. Half banner, half garment, 95 per cent acyrlic, it was six-feet of pure, official Olympicness. A perfect companion to those ubiquitous red mittens (if I had those). A holographic tag proved it authentic while revealing the scarf’s retail value:

TWENTY DOLLARS!

It was my prize for braving the cold and going to city hall for the Edmonton Journal. A kindly forty-something Maritime transplant announced the imminent Olympic torch relay route through downtown Edmonton. She pitched out ten or so scarves to anyone who could repeat back the basic details of the announcement moments ago.

“Who’s the final torchbearer?” A TV reporter barked the answer and was tossed a scarf.

“When does it start?” Another scarf, this time to a freelance photographer.

I saw my opportunity. Never the quickest on my feet, I nevertheless readied myself to blurt out the answer to a question she would surely ask. I don’t even remember what the question was. I got it right, and a scarf flew my way, but I need not have worried about winning.

“Who wants a scarf?” Came the question immediately after mine.

As the progeny of two post-war immigrant families, I’ve always valued a good freebie. My wardrobe includes beer shirts despite the fact I rarely deign to drink Bud or Kokanee. I own pens from hotels, news organizations, conferences, even one from a religious studies journal I’ve never read: a clickety black-inked number with Sacred History scrawled on its side. The scarf was perhaps the best swag I had received in my nascent journalistic career, a handsome reward for covering some of those “’tis the season” moments a holiday internship routinely serves up. Still, I wasn’t sure I would ever wear such a long and loud muffler. Like a beechwood-aged lager, it’s just not really my style.

I hustled back a few blocks to the newsroom to write a straightforward story about the torch route. Along the way, I thought about my own personal limit for freebies. How much can a journalist in good conscience accept without compromising his or her integrity? I have accepted some freebies, while turning down others. I’ve often said no to food, but then again, I’ve also said yes to food. Days before, a kindly great-grandmother insisted on giving me a heaping plate of cookies (and offered to bake me a “boob cake”). My worst ever freebie was also edible, albeit barely: a lunch of overcooked vegetables and chicken served up by the Canadian military. Ugh.

But merchandise? What would I do if I was offered NHL tickets, for instance? Would I have the integrity to turn them down? I honestly hope so, but my love of hockey runs deep within my soul.

The Canadian Association of Journalists statement of principles has a number of things to say on the matter. We journalists, to recite the language of the creed, must not “accept or solicit gifts, passes, or favours for personal use,” must “pay our own way” in most cases, and must “promptly return unsolicited gifts of more than nominal value” or else donate them to charity. Those principles are among several designed to ensure journalists “act independently.” The reasoning behind such principles is casuistic, relying on precedent to avoid situation ethics and bring consistency to journalistic decisions.

The scarf started looking a little unethical. “But…” I wondered, “are those rules really that hard and fast?”

The austere “no-means-no” logic of the CAJ statement isn’t the only rule out there, but it’s pretty representative. The Statesman Journal in Salem, Oregon, goes even further by deeming business gifts  “borderline bribes.” Slightly less puritanical is the Chicago Tribune, which purportedly has a prohibition against accepting anything more than a keychain. A reasonable approach, advocated by one of my UBC instructors, is to allow an informal limit of $20 gifts. It’s a pretty sound maximum: it won’t buy much, but it will cover a drink, the occasional entrance fee, even a pen or notepad.

“Even a scarf?!?” I asked myself. “$20,” replied the scarf. I was safe. Phew!

The problem with casuistry, however, is that cases change and rules don’t. Even worse, rules actually tend to degenerate into rationalization of behaviour. There are always cases that can fracture the sturdiest law:

  1. When there is no real conflict or even apparent threat to journalistic independence, the rule can seem scrupulous.
  2. It may be difficult to assign a monetary value to something.
  3. Acting independently is sometimes a mathematical impossibility.

For cases #2 and #3, consider the Olympics. In February, I took a low-level, non-journalistic job for the host broadcaster, but I was nevertheless surrounded both by journalists and freebies. Pins, clothes, food, drinks-a-plenty! Like athletes and volunteers, accredited media personnel received official Olympic participation medals, which sell for upwards of $200 each on eBay.

There was plenty of other gifting going on, the cumulative effect of which would undoubtedly run into the hundreds of dollars per person. Add to that the cozy relationship between merchandising, coverage, and sponsorship, and you were certain to interfere with journalistic independence. For individual journalists, it would have been very difficult, even rude, to swim against the “everybody’s doing it” current of the moment. Most employers wouldn’t even care. Making it more of a muddle, appraising the value of all the available freebies was difficult: an item of a nominal cost of production would likely exceed $20 as a collectible.

Towards the end of the games, I remembered that I still had my scarf. Not sure what I would do with it, I had brought it back with me from Edmonton to Vancouver. The tags were still attached.

“Perhaps,” I thought for a moment, “I’ll wear it after all.”

That millisecond passed, as did moments where I imagined giving it away to an appreciative someone who loves the Olympics more than me, say, a classmate or a cherubic little child. My spouse said I should give it away to a shelter. But with the anti-Olympic sentiments abounding among poverty activists, that seemed a little insensitive.

I decided to list the scarf for $20 on eBay, hoping a fan would appreciate it most of all. My timing turned out impeccably. The scarves had sold out at the Bay and Olympic stores, and could only be found secondhand on eBay. The former freebie – tags still intact – quickly shot to $40. Then $70. $90. $130. Finally, in a last moment frenzy, the scarf was bid up above my wildest imaginings:

TWO HUNDRED THIRTY DOLLARS!

I couldn’t believe it. That scarf of “nominal value” was suddenly worth more than my entire journalistic output (well, not quite, but…)! My ethical dilemma about accepting it had seemed quaint, even laughable. I was going to write about the torch route regardless, and I hadn’t solicited the scarf. The scarf didn’t change my mind about the Olympics, nor did it affect the tone of my coverage in any way. But now it was a major gift!

In retrospect, I have a new appreciation for the casuistic principles of the CAJ. Twenty dollars may be a helpful limit, but zero tolerance is probably a safer guideline to live by. Judged by the ‘infotainment’ value of much Olympic coverage, it’s probably much wiser to err that way.

A scarf, no matter how fancy, is nowhere as valuable as reputation.

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An ethical dilemma?

March 12, 2010

It was my first day on the job.

Last March, I had a two-week internship at the Globe and Mail in Vancouver. My first assignment was to zip out to Burnaby to a data security firm.
Days before, 25-year-old Adam Smolcic had allegedly witnessed the shooting of a 58-year-old homeless man by two rookie Vancouver police officers. According to police, the officers shot the man after a confrontation escalated in downtown Vancouver. After being approached by the police, the man pulled out a box-cutting knife and began advancing. After repeated warnings, police had shot the man, who became unresponsive at the scene.

Smolcic claimed he had filmed the incident with his cellphone. His version of the story did not mesh with the official police account. He claimed:

  1. Multiple gunshots (police claimed one).
  2. That the victim “did not make any aggressive movements” towards the officers (police said he advanced).
  3. Shortly after the shooting, Smolcic was allegedly confronted by a police officer who asked to see his phone.
  4. The officer looked at the phone for a minute, pressed some buttons, handed it back and told Smolcic to get lost.
  5. The officer had allegedly erased four minutes of crucial video evidence.

With a lawyer from the BC Civil Liberties Association, Smolcic had arranged a news conference at the security firm to submit the phone to attempt data recovery.

It was a potentially huge story. On the heels of cellphone footage of the Robert Dziekanski incident, police brutality was firmly implanted in the public mind. The victim was an elderly man with history of alcohol abuse, but not violence. More disturbing than bad judgment, however, was the possibility an officer willfully covered evidence.

It also fell into a category of speculation. The footage was potentially incriminating, and only potentially recoverable, while the source was somewhat dubious.  Smolcic didn’t exactly fit the profile of an ideal witness (that’s him on the right. See his blog here). Although articulate, he was, by his own reckoning,  a “reverend” (no religious affiliation given) and “marijuana activist” whose main source of income “making t-shirts.”

It didn’t completely add up, either. As the Dziekanski case had shown, it might be easier to retain and withhold evidence of wrongdoing rather than damage it. Smolcic’s actions, meanwhile, weren’t in line with what you might expect after such a confrontation. For one, he had jeopardized any recoverable data by using the phone multiple times after the incident. Whether anything was recoverable was pure speculation. I had my doubts.

Shortly after the news conference ended and scrumming began, I found myself in the crossfire in an all-out scream-fest between two local television reporters. One had spoken to Smolcic before, promising to pay for any data recovery fees in exchange for exclusive rights to air the video. The second reporter cried foul over who should get the recovered video, saying they would pay part of the fees for an equal share. The two squawked at each other while leaving the room.

With all the made-for-TV ego and tension still wafting in the room, I deadpanned, “It’s my first day on the job.”

The remaining reporters laughed sympathetically.

The story ended up fizzling. The data recovery process was unsuccessful despite several attempts. Abbotsford Police cleared the officers and recommended public mischief charges against Smolcic. Finally, two samples of surveillance footage were released, contradicting Smolcic’s account and  vindicating the official account.

VPD chief Jim Chu later criticized some media outlets for their lack of “critical analysis” in repeating the accusation, needlessly jeopardizing the already tenuous relationship between the police and the DTES. Whether or not footage was erased will never be known, but Smolcic’s credibility was critically damaged.

It was my first day, but I knew key ethical issues had been raised. The first was news judgment. As Chu later argued, the story was questionable and potentially damaging to the officers and the force as a whole. Herd instinct was evident: most outlets went ahead and reported the explosive allegations.

A second issue was the credibility of the witness. Even if Smolcic’s allegations weren’t exactly beyond scrutiny, how would you indicate that to an audience without unfairly maligning him? I worried about presenting Smolcic as a stereotype. He may have been telling the truth.

In my own article, I tempered the allegations by bumping up counter evidence near the top of the story. I mentioned the dispute in the second paragraph, brought up the police version of events in the third, before finally telling Smolcic’s version as neutrally as possible.

While the police might have been upset, media outlets made the right choice to cover the story. The VPD is very careful to control its image, skilfully channeling information through its communications department. The possibility that excessive force may have been used in this confrontation was certainly worth repeating out of concern for public interest and for the truth (as it was available at the time), and the police were given the chance to respond to the allegations (they declined).

A more pressing ethical issue, however, was the willingness of the local TV stations to pay for exclusive footage. No one had earned an exclusive story and the story depended on public interest. Buying footage didn’t just set a dangerous precedent, it exposed the true motives of much news-gathering: to win viewers at the cost of the public.

This wasn’t your $100 “eyewitness” footage of an accident or a fire, it was potential footage of police wrongdoing. The dubiousness of the source made the issue of paying for news that much more troubling. The reporters weren’t just giving someone the benefit of the doubt without the discipline of verification, they were creating a scenario that encouraged and rewarded spurious allegations.

Thankfully, my second day on the job was uneventful.

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King Carl Gustaf and me

March 9, 2010

For many Canadians, last Monday marked a return to reality. It doesn’t get any more mundane than Monday, March 1st.

Whether you spent the last hours of February reveling in beer-induced patriotism, or in grim avoidance of that I Believe song, it’s definitely a bit of a downer from Olympic reverie. Years from now, how many children born in November 2010 will look back to Sidney Crosby’s heroics as inspiring a glint in their father’s eye?

UBC cancelled school for the two Olympic weeks. A perfect opportunity for journalism students to make some hay! I took a job as a media liaison officer with Olympic Broadcasting Services.

It meant working with biathletes, ski jumpers, and cross-country skiiers, as well as Olympic broadcasters of an array of nationalities. I was a broadcaster bouncer, an interview timer, and a media cop both good and bad (depending on the situation).

It also meant rubbing shoulders with some interesting folks. Here’s me with a Swedish coterie, including His Highness Carl XVI Gustaf.

King Carl XVI Gustaf (centre, in ball cap), me in Power Ranger uniform.

Coming down into from three weeks in Whistler village, I only have a modest Olympic hangover. At $7-8 pints, I couldn’t afford anything more.

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Wrangling in Whistler

February 12, 2010

Long time, no blogging. That’s how it goes sometimes, but I promise it’s not simply out of sheer neglect.

For one, I’ve been trying to keep up on schoolwork heading into the Olympics. Since Tuesday, I’ve been up in Whistler, where I’m working for Olympic Broadcasting Services. Free accommodations at Whistler during the Olympics! Sweet!

My job for the rest of February? Media Liaison officer mostly at biathlon, but with occasional stints at cross-country and ski jumping as well. What’s an LO? I couldn’t have told you before this week. What’s biathlon? I still can’t say too much about that, except that it involves skis, guns, and a lot of Norwegians.

My job is to make sure the camera people from the Olympic rights holders, like CTV in Canada or NBC in the US, are in the correct place, and that they get the interviews they want. Nothing too exciting, but it’s going to be a blast.

Of the surreal moments thus far, probably the most has been biathlon loudspeakers blasting “Silent Night” in the middle of the day, punctuated by the sound of .22 bullets hitting targets.

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BrentWittmeier.com

January 1, 2010

Musings & assorted writings of a Canadian journalist.

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