“What a hell week it’s been.” The reporter is talking about a story his newsroom was assigned to cover, the launch of what he calls “an advertising campaign designed to look like a city festival.” At the press conference, a spokesman held up an egg. It was a metaphor for the birth of a new celebration, or something like that (plus, the egg marketing board was the event’s main sponsor). Four reporters and three photojournalists from CanWest were sent to cover the announcement, which the publisher also attended. The company’s newspapers would publish a glowing report, of course. These kinds of events, it is understood, are “good for business.”

The waitress takes our orders. We gaze at the impressionistic view as seen through the thick smog of the city. Beyond the mountains to the east, some of the worst forest fires in Canadian history are beginning to rage. You couldn’t be expected to know that, necessarily: in the first days of the fires, not a single CanWest print reporter was sent to the scene. They were all too busy on other assignments, says the scribe who’s been complaining. The population of news-gatherers has dropped dramatically this year, what with layoffs and buyouts and cost-cutting measures. Anyone who has other options is leaving – and even those who don’t. Much of “the news” comes off the wire now, reports from somewhere else written by someone else. Celebrity skin. But you’d think forest fires – that’s drama, visuals. They should at least cover that.

The definition of “not news” is simple. Does it take more than an eight-hour shift to report the story? It is probably not news. Anything that requires costly investigation is not news. Anything that challenges the specific political views or politicians esteemed by CanWest Global’s owner, the Asper family (their views are well publicized, violate them at your peril), is not news. The CanWest Global TV stations run inflammatory editorials on the owner’s pet viewpoints (Palestinian terrorism is a popular theme for careerists).

One angry reporter wanted to pull the byline on the city festival story, to let the article run anonymously, but that would be “a big ‘fuck you’ to management,” and no one can afford that. The reporter has a mortgage, a family. And it’s not like there are many other places to find work. The only other daily newspaper in the city is located in the same building, and is owned by CanWest. “Many voices,” someone once said, “and one ventriloquist.” Says the reporter: “If you don’t like it, learn to make cappuccinos.” If you want to be a journalist in this town, there’s really only one employer signing the checks.

At a conference of journalists in Montreal, Robert Fisk, a Mideast correspondent for the Independent out of the UK, addressed an audience of 200 media professionals. He spoke of the current dominance of “vapid, hopeless, gutless, unchallenging journalism,” the “facile, unquestioning acceptance of authority,” and how “the language of journalism has as usual fallen into step with government.” He got a standing ovation. At the end of his talk, a journalist from one of the CanWest newspapers – known to have had her columns censored for her views – approached the microphone. Can we start a support group for CanWest journalists? she asked.

Some CanWest newspapers submit their editorials to their publishers, who can call the Asper headquarters in Winnipeg if there are any doubts about the content. “Most of the time, it doesn’t come to that. People are scared. Anyway, key staff are hand-picked because they won’t say no to anything. Or else they have the same opinions the owners do.” The top editors will never complain of censorship. In fact, they will endlessly deny it. Their censor has been internalized, like a transplanted organ that is no longer distinct from its host body.

Another day, after work, a group of writers and editors gathers to drink on yet another patio. They crowd under the umbrella. “What strange weather,” someone observes. An editor starts talking about the death of journalism. Some new people arrive and vie for a spot in the shade. “We’re discussing the death of journalism,” says the editor. She makes quote marks in the air with her fingers: the “death of journalism.” Someone mentions that when the budget cuts came down – no more investigative features or anything that takes serious research, serious thinking, serious time – the publisher offered a solution.

“Just use more white space.”

-Pat Martens
From Adbusters #51