First published January 5, 1997
``There's a dark and a
troubled side of life;
There's a bright and sunny side too, ...''
Editors operate
in the face of persistent criticism that what we report is too
negative, too dark, too pessimistic.
Cries are constant that our world needs more
good news.
I've heard this argument from family, professional
colleagues, public affairs officers, business people, strangers
in a subway conversation, chaplains and, most recently, from a
Navy captain.
The criticism usually comes as a question such
as ``Why don't you guys report all the good things people are
doing?''
This line of argument is particularly important
to the military, who are the prime audience of a newspaper like
Pacific Stars and Stripes and who recently have been rocked
by stories of rape and harassment: Consider Tailhook, Okinawa,
Aberdeen and the Citadel. Just a mention of the key word conjures
images of sailors, Marines, soldiers and students at a military
academy making negative news.
Certainly that's not what the military services and the schools that provide many of their officers are all about.
Civilians level similar charges against the media. A typical complaint
is that we overemphasize stories focussing on violence and crime.
This, by the way, is not a criticism aimed
at this newspaper alone; most news organizations take similar
jabs.
A small town
newspaper at which I worked regularly ran a page of brief stories
from around the nation, which was sarcastically referred to as
the ``dead baby page,'' implying that the bulk of the stories
focused on the human tragedy of death, murder and the abuse of
other humans.
Attempts by journalists to deal with this criticism
have been awful, largely because we journalists, like many of
our critics, don't take time during a busy day to ask ourselves
what defines ``news'' anyway.
Instead, we usually deny the charge, throw
out the bulk of our sports and entertainment ``good'' news as
defense, and flee behind some variation on the theme that we mirror
the realities of society.
It's not that simple. News is not a black-and-white
affair.
Let me examine the criticism and journalism's
defense by taking a recent big story and emphasizing an important
point about the nature of news in general and so-called good news
in particular.
Boeing, the world's
largest producer of commercial airliners, recently announced a
plan to merge with McDonnell Douglas, the third-largest producer
of commercial aircraft and the second-largest defense contractor
in the United States (behind Lockheed Martin).
Is this good news or bad?
It's probably good news to a Boeing stockholder
in Seattle, but it may provide bad news to an assembly-line worker
at McDonnell Douglas in St. Louis.
For the stockholder, the merger probably means
greater earnings. For the worker, the threat of layoffs looms
large.
Is it in the national interest of the United
States to allow this merger? That's the question antitrust lawyers
have to answer, and the whole enterprise of antitrust law is itself
an outgrowth of arguments over what's good and bad for American
society.
I'm pointing at the nature of news. Frankly,
most events in the world, even tragic events, have two news sides.
Media have in recent decades made big news
out of the draw of the lottery. Hundreds of stories appear annually
about citizens who overnight become millionaires or near-millionaires
with the purchase of a lucky ticket.
Is this good news or bad?
What seems incredibly
good news has been chronicled as leading to some of the most bitter
disappointment in American society. An inordinate number of lottery
winners live to be disappointed, depressed and often broke. Winning
a lottery is not always good news.
Of course, as many of my colleagues have said
when I've pointed this out: ``I know, but I'd still like the chance
to become depressed and disappointed.''
Let me take on a tougher analysis: The experience
of women trying to revolutionize the all-male admission policy
at The Citadel provides several tragic moments.
Most recently, two women cadets who suffered
physical problems in training disclosed troubling stories of hazing
in the ranks, including murder threats.
This is a pessimistic and negative story, and
when I first read it I had negative thoughts about the South Carolina
institution, which has a track record of resisting the effort
of women to join its ranks.
But some good
news has come out of this story in The Citadel's response. Two
cadets have been thrown out of the school and five others have
been removed from Echo company, of which the school's four women
cadets are members.
The subtle point of bad news is that its being
reported frequently prompts good news responses.
Reporting of tragedies aboard airplanes leads
to greater airplane safety measures; reporting of auto deaths
leads to increased automotive safety; reporting of murder frequently
prompts improved police protection.
Out of the tragic bad news of rape in Okinawa
has come good news of the Marines' efforts to educate and sensitize
the Corps to ethical behavior and host-nation issues; international
issues that were dormant are getting attention.
Yes, there was a tragic cost, but an immeasurable
cost in deceit and waste results when such tragedies go unreported.
My growing conviction
is that news is neither good nor bad in a final, objective sense;
it's more like history.
There really isn't good history or bad history;
history at its best is a record, and in the chronicle of human
time, what has been judged bad in history has often resulted in
good for humankind.
The media can and should go on reporting tragedy and ugliness in human affairs. In addition to the sunny side of life, there is a dark and troubled side that must be confronted and brought to light. This is not always bad news.
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Allan R. Andrews can be contacted at arandrews@aol.com