A post-journalism media landscape
Too many reporters, editors are political activists hijacking their position
No doubt Matt Taibbi — late of Rolling Stone, now on Substack — expected the vicious backlash he’s receiving for reporting on the internal machinations of Twitter’s former censorship regime.
Taking down posts, blocking the sharing of legitimate news stories, suspending accounts — all at the request of government officials and political party apparatchiks.
It is possible, perhaps likely, that he’s a bit surprised by how many of the attacks against him are coming from members of the media — supposedly fellow journalists.
But maybe not.
Because, sadly, what is marketed as “journalism” these days is much more defender of the crown that it is speaker of truth to power.
I first witnessed this “journalism as defender of the regime” in action during the Clinton Administration. President Clinton came to San Diego to give a campaign speech — I don’t recall if it was for another candidate, or his own re-election. During the question-and-answer segment following his remarks, a local resident asked President Clinton if he could name one example of a country “taxing and spending” it’s way out of a recession.
What was noteworthy wasn’t Clinton’s response to what, was, admittedly, a “gotcha” attempt by a political foe — it was the response of the local daily.
Our local newspaper of record immediately started looking into the background of this individual who dared question the president. His previous tax issues, his divorce — all of it was unearthed for readers of the paper (where I twice have worked, on staff and before that as a freelancer) in breathless hyperbole.
I was surprised that the subject of these attacks didn’t sue for invasion of privacy. After all, merely asking an elected official a question does not make one a public figure, not even a limited public figure — and if one is not a public figure then the private details of one’s life are nobody’s business.
There was nothing newsworthy about any of this — his only crime, as it were, was asking a pointed question of an elected official. I’d wager there were numerous local attorneys who would have loved to take that case on.
But perhaps he thought it would only exacerbate matters, because so far as I know he never sued.
Still, the entire incident was a telling development in the ongoing decline of the standards of journalism in this nation.
A few years earlier, the lead reporter on the above story had been approached to do a story when the monthly community paper I was editing at the time, the Adams Avenue Post, was being threatened with eviction from our offices in retaliation for our coverage of a City Council member’s decision to cut federal Community Development Block Grant funds from the nonprofit redevelopment agency serving that particular neighborhood. (The building we were housed in had been donated to the city a few years earlier by a charity with the stipulation that all nonprofits currently housed there could stay indefinitely. The Post was published by a nonprofit — we were targeted solely for our coverage of said councilman.) Our friend the big city daily reporter declined to pursue this story when one of our board members pitched it, citing my conservative political beliefs as espoused when I had written opinion commentary for another paper.
(Epilogue: That reporter later left the newspaper and took a position doing p.r. for a nonprofit set up to organize and run a centennial celebration for San Diego’s wondrous Balboa Park. He took home a nice salary for a few years making excuses to his former colleagues for why nothing ever came of the more than $2 million the city put into that group for a celebration that never happened. Balboa Park — one of the great urban parks in America, or the world for that matter — saw its 100-year anniversary come and go mostly unnoticed, while our erstwhile journalist-turned-publicist slid into another profitable sinecure at city hall.)
Of course, during the Trump Administration, many so-called journalists proudly put “resist” in their social media handles or photos. Considering Trump won the 2016 election, I’m not sure exactly what they were resisting — democracy itself, I suppose.
Any time political conservatives happen to convince enough of their fellow citizens to cast a ballot for them and actually win a race, these same media types start fretting that “democracy itself” is in danger. As if democracy is best preserved through one-party rule.
During the Obama Administration, we saw the national media — CBS, NBC, ABC, CNN, PBS, Washington Post, New York Times, et al — doing curious work in covering Washington.
Rather than the historically accepted practice of holding the party in power to account — dissecting budgets, analyzing bills, ensuring critics of official policy are heard from, etc. — they spent most of their time and energy attacking the minority party. Suddenly, to dissent was to be disloyal.
Until Trump won, of course, and the entire formula flipped 180 degrees.
Now we’re back to the previous formula: The government is good, all who question any detail of said governance are right-wing fascists, probably Nazis, and undoubtedly insurrectionists plotting the nation’s overthrow. I suppose if a Republican wins the White House in two years, it will all flip again.
This open partisanship and complete lack of any ideological balance is why Americans trust their media less than the residents of any other representative system.
And it’s not even close.
When I first started out in this racket 40 some years ago, it was drilled into me that the only currency you had as a journalist was your combination of integrity and accuracy.
My last semester of college at San Diego State, I was coming off a stint as opinion page editor at the on-campus Daily Aztec. Having been in Air Force ROTC my first two years (my eyesight washed me out) and being openly, unapologetically Catholic, I had a reputation as a staunch conservative.
I was having a friendly argument with the news editor about whether a reporter could be impartial. He argued that no one is without bias; I countered that I agreed, but that being impartial and unbiased are not the same thing. I made him a wager: I would cover the “peace activist” beat for my final semester, and would be fair without leaning over in their direction. If both sides were happy with my coverage at the end of the semester, he owed me a pitcher of beer.
He accepted.
I probably wrote more about the peace activists on campus than any reporter before —there were tons of legitimate, good articles to be written. But I didn’t write fluff pieces — the peace activists always got to explain their events in their own words, with no shading, but then other groups who found them naïve or wrong also got to weigh in.
At the end of the semester, the head of the Student Peace Education Committee said, yeah, I’d been fair. So did the ROTC contingents.
That beer was cold and tasty.
I share this by way of pointing out that there is nothing inevitable about the national media deciding that it’s not possible to be impartial or fair.
Generations of earlier journalists did their jobs under those very standards. In fact, it was a generation of journalists just about a century ago who decided to “professionalize” journalism by creating institutional barriers between the newsrooms and ownership. Between news and partisanship.
During the early years of newspapers, most papers were openly partisan — much as you still see in Europe today. You had conservative papers and liberal papers, and owners like Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst had no compunction about pushing their politics in supposed news stories on the front page.
It was this very partisanship that lead us into the Spanish-American War, when Pulitzer and Hearst instructed their papers across the country to report that the Spanish had sunk the USS Maine in Havana Harbor — even though this was neither proven nor likely.
In response to this, a campaign was started among journalists themselves to segregate opinion from news coverage. Opinion was mostly moved from the front page to the editorial pages, where it was clearly marked as such.
News coverage was supposed to be impartial. Factual.
Reliable.
That was what sold newspapers for almost a century: If you read it in the paper, you could be reasonably sure it was true.
We’ve not only backslid over the last decade, today’s journalism landscape has returned to the openly partisan days of “yellow” journalism, with one important difference: There are almost no conservative newspapers.
Those supposed “journalists” who are attacking Taibbi are notably attacking his reputation — claiming he somehow “sold out” by perusing Twitter’s internal files as provided to him, presumably by new Twitter owner Elon Musk.
Taibbi’s ethics are questioned, his patriotism, his decency, his manhood.
Interesting, what isn’t being questions is the content of his reporting.
When you have supposed journalists from outfits like NBC, The Washington Post and The New York Times arguing that another journalist should not be reporting on coordinated censorship between the government and a massive social media site that advertised itself as a place that did not censor — well, clearly something is amiss.
Journalism, I was taught, is supposed to speak “truth to power.”
When that actually happens, as is happening with Taibbi now, it is interesting to watch who rises up to defend the current power structure.
That so many who are supposed to be holding the powerful accountable are instead clearly identifying with those in power — and speaking out to defend them — is not a good sign.
The Supreme Court has ruled that when government officials request a private company engage in behavior that would be unconstitutional if the government itself did it, it is in fact the same thing.
If, in fact, the White House has leaned on Twitter — and Facebook and YouTube — to remove content critical of the administration, then we have a significant First Amendment violation and almost assuredly a blizzard of lawsuits to follow.
If the major media outlets are not interested or willing to explore these topics for their readers, there are other outlets that are more than capable of and ready to fill that void.
And my guess is that plenty of readers and viewers will be curious enough to follow them.
You can only avoid doing your job for so long before someone else will come along and do it for you.
Christine McVie’s passing this last week provides a good opportunity to revisit her underrated but remarkable body of work.
Outside of her former husband, bassist John McVie, and drummer Mick Fleetwood, no one was with the band longer. She played on their second album in 1968 as a guest keyboardist, then joined the band as a full member for the fourth album. Thereafter, she anchored the transition from blues to mainstream rock — and then served as one of the principal songwriters in the band’s hit-making heyday.
Born Christine Perfect, she had started out in 1964 in Chicken Shack, a Jimmy Smith-influenced blues band — playing organ in a definitive Jimmy Smith mode. Meeting Fleetwood Mac at various blues festivals both acts played at, she became friends with the band, sitting in on an early session and then designing the cover of 1970's “Kiln House.” Shortly thereafter, founder Peter Green — who had been lead songwriter, lead guitarist, and lead vocalist — left the band.
By the time the band’s transitional “Future Games” was released the next year, she was a full-fledged member — and her song “Show Me a Smile” hinted at what was to come.
“Spare Me a Little of Your Love” from “Bare Trees” (1972) shows McVie has fully arrived as a composer and singer. It’s a mid-tempo rock shuffle anchored by her warm vocals — and could easily have appeared on one of the Mac’s subsequent mega-hit albums.
The year 1973 brought two new studio outings, “Penguin” and “Mystery to Me.”
By the time “Penguin” came out, McVie was sharing the songwriting duties with guitarist Bob Welch. None of her three songs here are equal to the two songs mentioned above, but “Dissatisfied” comes close. “Did You Ever Love Me,” co-written with Welch, is marred by the inexplicable distraction of having steel pan drums on the track.
“Believe Me,” issued half a year after “Penguin,” is one of McVie’s more uptempo numbers — but never finds that killer hook. In fact, her strongest bit here is her lead vocal on Welch’s “Keep On Going.”
In 1974, the band issued their final album with Bob Welch, “Heroes Are Hard to Find.” Here, McVie’s “Come a Little Bit Closer” is equal to “Spare Me a Little of Your Love” and truly sets the table for the superstar band Mac would become the next year with the additions of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. “Prove Your Love” was only a notch below.
Of course, 1975, and the band’s 10th studio album, gave us the lineup that most people associate with Fleetwood Mac — most fans not even knowing who Peter Green was (even though Green’s hit song “Oh Well” continued to be in the band’s live show for decades after he left, with Buckingham’s homage to his predecessor appearing on 1980's “Live” album). “Warm Ways” was the second track on the LP, was the first single issued in the U.K., and although it didn’t chart (or get released in the U.S.) it became one of the band’s signature songs. Bur she also contributed Mac classics “Over My Head” and “Say You Love Me” (which hit No. 11 in the U.S.).
Two years later, “Rumours” put the band into superstar territory — selling so many copies (more than 40 million worldwide) that it ranks as one of the all-time best-selling LPs. The album was ubiquitous on the radio that year. McVie’s “Don’t Stop” was the third single, and rose to No. 3. The fourth single was also by McVie, “You Make Loving Fun,” and also cracked the Top 10 in the U.S. And while never issued as a single, her “Songbird” became a favorite of late night AOR FM stations.
The band would never again reach the heights of “Rumour” — but then, Michael Jackson never topped “Thriller,” Carole King couldn’t touch “Tapestry.” Some albums are considered masterpieces for a reason. Still, McVie’s “Think About Me” was probably the best song from the rambling, two-disc “Tusk” (1979) — with Nicks’ “Sara” the only other song here as strong as those on “Rumours.”
A live album followed in 1980, while Fleetwood, Buckingham and Nicks each released solo albums leading to rumors of a breakup. (When they appeared at the 1982 Us Festival, it was billed as a “reunion”.)
Their next studio album, 1982's “Mirage,” found McVie back in top songwriting form. “Hold Me” was all over the radio, hitting No. 4 on the Billboard charts.
The band did take a break after that, with McVie issuing her second solo album (following 1970’s “Christine Perfect”). “Got a Hold On Me” broke into the Billboard Top 10 — becoming her only solo hit single.
The late-’70s Fleetwood Mac lineup recorded one more studio album together, “Tango In the Night” (1987), with a McVie penned-and-sung song, “Everywhere,” again cracking the Top 20.
After Buckingham left the band, they regrouped with new guitarists Billy Burnette and Rick Vito to record 1990's “Behind the Mask.” McVie’s “Save Me” was the band’s last Top 40 hit.
Five years later, with Dave Mason now on board on guitar and Nicks also having left, the band issued “Time” — the final album with McVie in the fold. Her “All Over Again” didn’t chart — but neither did the album, nor any other songs. Still, it’s wholly in line with McVie’s previous work, has a lovely melody, and lyrically is almost a goodbye to the band she’d been in for 25 years and where she’d found her greatest success.
Other than the original story of Christmas found in the Gospels, my favorite Christmas story is Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.”
It’s a grand tale, and one that’s been adapted into everything from a 1970 musical starring Albert Finney to a 1988 dark comedy starring Bill Murray.
But the best versions are those that hew closest to Dickens’ original, and of these, my favorite is the 1984 production starring George C. Scott.
There are those who swear by the 1951 British production starring Alistair Sim; others stick with Reginald Owen’s 1938 American production; and yet others prefer the 1999 version with Patrick Stewart.
I’ll not knock any of them — each is a classic in its own way.
For me, the beauty of Scott’s portrayal of Scrooge is that he never even attempts a British accent as the only American surrounded by British actors. He keeps his native American accent — but because he so wholly inhabits the character of Ebeneezer Scrooge, you never even notice.
He simply is Scrooge.
Scott possessed that rare ability to convey more emotion with a raised eyebrow, a furrowed brow, a bewildered look, than most actors can convey with five minutes of dialogue. Watching him as the spirits take him to witness Mrs. Cratchitt curse his name, or to see his reputation mocked at his nephew Fred’s party, is to see a thousand emotions cross his face.
(Special mention ought to be made of Edward Woodward’s Ghost of Christmas Present. Watching him and Scott play off each other is to witness two giants of their craft at the height of their artistry.)
More than any of the other actors who have portrayed Scrooge, particularly in those productions loyal to Dickens’ original short story, Scott’s “Bah, humbug” sounds utterly natural — he almost laughs it in the scene with his nephew Fred.
When some other businessmen come to him seeking to purchase provisions for the poor for the holiday, and they miss his deadline leading him to raise his prices, and one protests, “That’s not fair,” Scott is wholly convincing in his response: “No, but it’s business.”
All of this simply sets the table for Scrooge’s transformation, his tale of redemption.
In our current American ethos of judgmentalism and condemnation, perhaps this tale of personal reclamation — of someone being brought face to face with their own failings, and learning from them — is needed more than ever. In our age of cancellation for the slightest offense, “A Christmas Carol” reminds us that we are all imperfect, all in need of self-reflection and redemption.
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Taibbi and Greenwald are also doing well.
You wrote my column this week before i even had a chance to yell for help! In my newsroom, my editor and I are the only two, out of dozens, who see anything untoward about the journalistic issues you raise. We are also the only two over 40. I wish I shared your optimism about the inevitability of journalism's decline. I fear a lot worse will proceed any better. I'd be delighted to be wrong.