Journamalism
Jan 9th, 2008 at 8:53 pm by Susie
I remember a staff meeting that took place many years ago at the newspaper where I used to work. This was our budget meeting, where everyone talked about the stories planned for the next issue.
One reporter talked about how she was going on a police ride-a-long for some drug busts. Everyone was saying oh cool, that was great, we should get good photos, etc.
I sighed loudly. I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, which is something I still do when I have something to say. I looked down the table and said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, for a couple of reasons. The first is, we’re not in the job of providing PR for the _______ police department and we shouldn’t allow ourselves to be perceived that way. They’ve had several brutality accusations and there’s an election coming up. These raids are positioned to make them look good.”
No one said anything, although I saw a few people rolling their eyes. There she goes again!
“The other thing is, it gives the impression that we agree the person whose house they’re raiding is guilty. Our presence and our writing about it implies that. The cops get the wrong person all the time, so how can we know? A raid is based on a warrant, but that’s not the same as a conviction. Plus, there was a recent federal court decision holding a newspaper liable for this exact same thing. So no, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Well, of course they ignored me, even the editor. I suppose it had something to do with power: They assumed because they were white, young and educated, they would never be in a powerless position, and so lacked the empathy that could put them in the suspect’s place.
The best journalists have that ability. A Sy Hersh thinks about what it would be like to be a young Iraqi boy, raped in Abu Ghraib, and instinctively knows this goes further up the chain of command. A Jimmy Breslin thinks about the mothers of all the soldiers who were killed in Iraq.
And a Maureen Dowd or a Chris Matthews? Well, they think about themselves. Which, when you think about it, is really much more interesting.
You pushed what up your nose?
Three weeks ago, I was at a big-deal Xmas party that was cop-themed
(you never saw so many middle-class blond middle-aged women wearing
fake police uniforms in your life), offering prizes for completing various
activities (drinking, gambling, engaging in PDA’s, and performing “community service”.)
First prize was a ride-along with the San Jose PD. (I don’t know if second
prize was two ride-alongs.) I had accumulated lots of X’s and punches
on my fake ID card, and asked one of the organizers if I could choose
a different prize if I won. Yep, and a good thing too, since my score
was more than twice as high as anyone else’s.
I got a nice Fairmont Hotel brunch out of it. Why in the world would
anyone over the age of 15 want to go on a police ride-along (unless
it were with the vice squad?)