Further to my post on Mark Crysell’s reports from Sderot, I have a feeling I may have been wrong in crediting Brian Edwards with that clever description “potty training”, in relation to the indoctrination of TVNZ journalists in the dumbed-down style of reporting adopted in the late 1980s. Edwards gave us the equally apt phrase “coochie-coo news” to describe the style of bulletin that resulted, but on reflection it may have been an anonymous (and subversive) TVNZ journalist or journalists who came up with “potty training”.
And in response to “Johnno”, who defends Crysell’s use of the expression “my report” to introduce material clearly not obtained by him personally but collated from other sources, the statement that this is common practice in TV merely reinforces my point about deceit and sleight-of-hand now being so entrenched in television journalism that it’s considered the norm, and perfectly acceptable. This is the “Everyone does it, so it must be OK” line. Even so, it seems to me that Crysell’s explicit and flagrant claim of ownership of material gathered by others takes the deception to a new level. In the other examples “Johnno” gives, the TV journalist may be happy to leave the viewer with the impression that he/she has gathered the material personally, but doesn’t expressly take credit for it. That’s a qualitative difference.
It’s pretty clear that “Johnno” and another anonymous poster who rips into me on David Farrar’s Kiwiblog, using very similar arguments, are either TV journalists themselves or are employed in closely related fields. This may explain their sensitivity.
Both defend the practice of journalists collating material from diverse sources and putting their own voices over it, but they don’t specifically address Crysell’s shameful claim – or at the very least, implication – that it was all his own work.
Incidentally, it may or may not be significant that in the last two Crysell reports from Sderot that I’ve seen, he hasn’t used the word “my report”.
Showing posts with label Gaza. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gaza. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Journalistic deceit from TVNZ
The first time I heard it, I couldn’t quite believe my ears.
There was TVNZ’s Europe correspondent Mark Crysell reporting on the 6 o’clock news from the Israeli town of Sderot, near the border with Gaza. Journalists congregate in this town because Israel won’t allow them into Gaza and I presume it’s the closest they can get to the Israeli bombardment.
Crysell, looking every inch the foreign correspondent in his flak jacket, talked about hearing Israeli bombs exploding. He may have mentioned taking shelter from Hamas rockets, which are occasionally fired at Sderot. Then he said something like: “Here’s my report”.
What followed was a report from inside Gaza, showing the usual scenes: wrecked buildings, grieving Palestinians, bloody hospital wards. Sure enough, it was Crysell’s voice we were hearing over the news footage; but “my” report? How could it be Crysell’s report when he was on the Israeli side of the border, well away from the carnage?
Surely even TVNZ wouldn’t stoop to anything so blatantly dishonest as dubbing its own correspondent’s voice over footage compiled by someone else (I suspect the BBC, which has people inside Gaza) and then claiming it as Crysell’s own?
Not willing to trust my ears, I went to the TVNZ website and tried to replay the bulletin, but was thwarted. All I could get was National Bank commercials.
Two nights later, however – on Friday night – I was watching One News again, and again they crossed to Crysell in Sderot. Same scenario: the foreign correspondent in his flak jacket, nodding as he waited for the link to come through and then telling us once more how he could hear the constant noise of explosions. (Well, fancy that. Why doesn’t TVNZ just replay the same footage every night if this is all he can report?)
And then he said it again: “This is my report” (the italics are mine). What followed was more footage from within Gaza, similar to that which I had seen two nights earlier. It included several interviews in which the interviewee was not seen – but it couldn’t have been Crysell, because the interviews were from inside Gaza and Crysell was outside. This, however, didn’t stop Crysell dubbing his own voiceover and claiming it as his own report.
The only interview clearly conducted by Crysell himself was with a New Zealand Jewish man living in Israel, in what appeared to be peaceful surroundings, who talked about his reaction to the attacks on Gaza. Not exactly gritty frontline stuff.
The journalistic deceit here is breathtaking. Only weeks ago, Radio New Zealand’s Noelle McCarthy was deservedly pilloried for plagiarising bits and pieces of British newspaper opinion pieces in her own commentaries on Afternoons. Now we have one of the state-owned TV network’s most senior journalists presenting other people’s work as his own, with the apparent endorsement of his employer, and as far as I’m aware not a voice has been raised in protest.
Plagiarism in any shape or form is reprehensible, but I know which of these two examples I find more objectionable.
The most generous interpretation I can manage is that Crysell compiled the reports from material obtained from other sources, but that doesn’t make them his reports. “My” report, in this context, would suggest to most viewers that he was the man on the ground, gathering the information himself, when that was clearly not the case.
This tawdry situation has come about because TVNZ likes to present itself as a serious news organisation of international standing that can foot it with the big boys, flying its own correspondent to the scene of the latest international flare-up. But who does it think it’s kidding?
Crysell can’t get into Gaza, so is reduced to presenting variations on the same report every night, telling us how he can hear fighters and choppers flying overhead and bombs going off several kilometres away.
If this were as far as it went, it would simply be a laughable but harmless example of TVNZ slavishly adhering to the silly convention that its viewers gain some special insight by having “their” own reporter on the scene, even if he has nothing to report that can’t be covered more authoritatively by other news organisations whose services TVNZ has access to. But in its desperation to convince us that it’s right up with major players like the BBC and CNN, TVNZ has resorted to the pretence that its man is in the thick of things when clearly he isn’t. That’s a disgrace.
For his part, Crysell on his blog seems eager to present himself as the intrepid foreign correspondent, dodging Hamas missiles and racing to his hotel’s “safe room” in the middle of the night. In fact he’s probably no more at risk of physical harm than a TV cameraman on the sideline at an All Black test match.
So another step has been taken in the steady debasement of television journalism, and intelligent viewers have one more reason to wonder whether they can trust their own eyes and ears. This comes only months after TV3’s John Campbell, a broadcaster whom I generally admire, was rightly censured for conducting a fake interview with an actor purporting to be one of the Waiouru war medal thieves.
Television news and current affairs has almost compromised itself to a standstill through gimmickry, artifice and prestidigitation of one form and another. It started with the absurdity of having tandem news presenters, a practice now so embedded that no one questions it any more, and proceeded with the deliberate dumbing-down of bulletins under the guise of giving them more emotional impact. (Brian Edwards memorably described the indoctrination of TVNZ journalists in the new style of reporting as “potty training”.)
Practices that once provoked condemnation, such as reporters in Wellington newsrooms dubbing their own voices over stories from overseas, are now routine. And no one has ever, to my knowledge, seriously questioned the ethical implications that arise from commercial sponsorship of news and current affairs programmes or, in TV3’s case, the extraordinary situation whereby representatives of a sharebroking firm present the nightly financial and stock exchange news.
One final point on the chutzpah (perhaps an appropriate word in this context) of Crysell presenting the news from Gaza as his own. What does it say about TVNZ’s opinion of its viewers that it thinks it can get away with it? Or are viewers so brain-dead (to use former newsreader Lindsay Perigo’s description of TV news several years ago) that anything is now possible?
There was TVNZ’s Europe correspondent Mark Crysell reporting on the 6 o’clock news from the Israeli town of Sderot, near the border with Gaza. Journalists congregate in this town because Israel won’t allow them into Gaza and I presume it’s the closest they can get to the Israeli bombardment.
Crysell, looking every inch the foreign correspondent in his flak jacket, talked about hearing Israeli bombs exploding. He may have mentioned taking shelter from Hamas rockets, which are occasionally fired at Sderot. Then he said something like: “Here’s my report”.
What followed was a report from inside Gaza, showing the usual scenes: wrecked buildings, grieving Palestinians, bloody hospital wards. Sure enough, it was Crysell’s voice we were hearing over the news footage; but “my” report? How could it be Crysell’s report when he was on the Israeli side of the border, well away from the carnage?
Surely even TVNZ wouldn’t stoop to anything so blatantly dishonest as dubbing its own correspondent’s voice over footage compiled by someone else (I suspect the BBC, which has people inside Gaza) and then claiming it as Crysell’s own?
Not willing to trust my ears, I went to the TVNZ website and tried to replay the bulletin, but was thwarted. All I could get was National Bank commercials.
Two nights later, however – on Friday night – I was watching One News again, and again they crossed to Crysell in Sderot. Same scenario: the foreign correspondent in his flak jacket, nodding as he waited for the link to come through and then telling us once more how he could hear the constant noise of explosions. (Well, fancy that. Why doesn’t TVNZ just replay the same footage every night if this is all he can report?)
And then he said it again: “This is my report” (the italics are mine). What followed was more footage from within Gaza, similar to that which I had seen two nights earlier. It included several interviews in which the interviewee was not seen – but it couldn’t have been Crysell, because the interviews were from inside Gaza and Crysell was outside. This, however, didn’t stop Crysell dubbing his own voiceover and claiming it as his own report.
The only interview clearly conducted by Crysell himself was with a New Zealand Jewish man living in Israel, in what appeared to be peaceful surroundings, who talked about his reaction to the attacks on Gaza. Not exactly gritty frontline stuff.
The journalistic deceit here is breathtaking. Only weeks ago, Radio New Zealand’s Noelle McCarthy was deservedly pilloried for plagiarising bits and pieces of British newspaper opinion pieces in her own commentaries on Afternoons. Now we have one of the state-owned TV network’s most senior journalists presenting other people’s work as his own, with the apparent endorsement of his employer, and as far as I’m aware not a voice has been raised in protest.
Plagiarism in any shape or form is reprehensible, but I know which of these two examples I find more objectionable.
The most generous interpretation I can manage is that Crysell compiled the reports from material obtained from other sources, but that doesn’t make them his reports. “My” report, in this context, would suggest to most viewers that he was the man on the ground, gathering the information himself, when that was clearly not the case.
This tawdry situation has come about because TVNZ likes to present itself as a serious news organisation of international standing that can foot it with the big boys, flying its own correspondent to the scene of the latest international flare-up. But who does it think it’s kidding?
Crysell can’t get into Gaza, so is reduced to presenting variations on the same report every night, telling us how he can hear fighters and choppers flying overhead and bombs going off several kilometres away.
If this were as far as it went, it would simply be a laughable but harmless example of TVNZ slavishly adhering to the silly convention that its viewers gain some special insight by having “their” own reporter on the scene, even if he has nothing to report that can’t be covered more authoritatively by other news organisations whose services TVNZ has access to. But in its desperation to convince us that it’s right up with major players like the BBC and CNN, TVNZ has resorted to the pretence that its man is in the thick of things when clearly he isn’t. That’s a disgrace.
For his part, Crysell on his blog seems eager to present himself as the intrepid foreign correspondent, dodging Hamas missiles and racing to his hotel’s “safe room” in the middle of the night. In fact he’s probably no more at risk of physical harm than a TV cameraman on the sideline at an All Black test match.
So another step has been taken in the steady debasement of television journalism, and intelligent viewers have one more reason to wonder whether they can trust their own eyes and ears. This comes only months after TV3’s John Campbell, a broadcaster whom I generally admire, was rightly censured for conducting a fake interview with an actor purporting to be one of the Waiouru war medal thieves.
Television news and current affairs has almost compromised itself to a standstill through gimmickry, artifice and prestidigitation of one form and another. It started with the absurdity of having tandem news presenters, a practice now so embedded that no one questions it any more, and proceeded with the deliberate dumbing-down of bulletins under the guise of giving them more emotional impact. (Brian Edwards memorably described the indoctrination of TVNZ journalists in the new style of reporting as “potty training”.)
Practices that once provoked condemnation, such as reporters in Wellington newsrooms dubbing their own voices over stories from overseas, are now routine. And no one has ever, to my knowledge, seriously questioned the ethical implications that arise from commercial sponsorship of news and current affairs programmes or, in TV3’s case, the extraordinary situation whereby representatives of a sharebroking firm present the nightly financial and stock exchange news.
One final point on the chutzpah (perhaps an appropriate word in this context) of Crysell presenting the news from Gaza as his own. What does it say about TVNZ’s opinion of its viewers that it thinks it can get away with it? Or are viewers so brain-dead (to use former newsreader Lindsay Perigo’s description of TV news several years ago) that anything is now possible?
Friday, January 9, 2009
They're stealing our language
(First published in the Curmudgeon column, The Dominion Post, January 6.)
In recent weeks the Americanisms “cookie”, “race car” and “airplane” have appeared in local news and sport stories. These are alien words.
Speakers of New Zealand English would say “biscuit”, “racing car” and “plane” (or “aeroplane” if you want to be pedantic, as pilots tend to be). But like noxious introduced weeds, American terms are invading the linguistic landscape and threatening to render our distinctive form of English extinct.
We surrendered long ago to the silly term “swim meet” – “track meet” can’t be far behind – and I noted that a recent news report about an injured tramper said she had been pinned under a rock on the “trail”. Whatever happened to that good old Kiwi word “track”?
Television is often blamed for the Americanisation of New Zealand English, but I wonder if this latest aberration can be attributed to the popularity of mountain biking.
Off-road biking originated in California, where people ride on trails. As the activity gained a following in New Zealand, mountain bikers adopted American terminology. And because there’s a degree of crossover between mountain biking and tramping, particularly where they use the same routes, the word “trail” now seems to be spreading into the latter activity.
It’s probably only a matter of time before “trampers” become “hikers”, and another Kiwi-ism will have been lost.
Some Americanisms are now so embedded in the language that further resistance is futile. Hardly anyone goes to the pictures any more, still less the flicks; the conquest of the American word “movies” is total. And we may have passed the point where “G’day” could be rescued from the inexorable advance of the meaningless “Hi”.
To take a slightly more obscure example of how the language is changing, no one gets “rooked” any more by a greedy or unscrupulous business person (otherwise known as a “shyster”). No, you get ripped off – another Americanism.
But it’s not too late to salvage some of the threatened expressions that make New Zealand English so distinctive. “Dunny”, originally a Scottish word, seems safely off the endangered list, while “shag”, that evocative old term for sexual congress which I always assumed to be Australasian (though the dictionaries don’t confirm this), has been embraced internationally. “Crikey” is another comeback word, now securely ensconced as the name of a popular Australian media website.
Columnist Steve Braunias has revived that great old Kiwi word “rooster” – as in, “he’s an odd sort of rooster” – while TV host John Campbell has single-handedly done great work in making “bugger” acceptable. In Campbellese, “you silly buggers” is a term of endearment.
Perhaps we should institute a new award: Hero of Kiwi English First Class, perhaps, or Companion of the Honourable Order of Harry Orsman, in memory of the late, indefatigable collector of New Zealand slang.
* * *
THERE’S some very muddled thinking around which I can only attribute to over-indulgence during the holiday period.
Take the Israeli bombardment of Gaza. The usual voices are being raised in outrage and I heard an overwrought radio talkback host, his voice quavering with anger, comparing Israel with Nazi Germany. Talk about emotion triumphing over reason.
I’m no cheerleader for the Israeli government, but there’s a brutal logic in what it is doing. It’s saying to the Hamas fanatics: as long as you continue to fire rockets at our civilian population, we will respond one hundredfold.
What’s happening in Gaza, as with every situation in which innocent civilians are made to suffer for the actions of warmongers, is a tragedy. Hamas, however, could stop the bombs falling tomorrow if it abandoned its own attacks. It’s that simple.
Hamas chooses to continue, despicably using civilians to shelter its murderous terrorists, because it knows that thumb-sucking, hand-wringing sympathisers in the West – such as our radio talkback host – will assign all the responsibility for the carnage to Israel.
To paraphrase a famous line, the Hamas leaders are either extraordinarily thick or they are extraordinarily wicked, and I don’t think they are thick.
* * *
MUDDLED thinking Part II: the news media are under attack for highlighting the fact that Christchurch murder victim Mellory Manning (or “Mallory”, as female radio and TV reporters insist on calling her, in their squeaky, little-girl voices) was a prostitute. Journalists are being judgmental, the complainants say; Ms Manning’s occupation is irrelevant.
In fact Ms Manning’s occupation was as pertinent to the manner of her death as that of a pilot killed in a plane crash or a fisherman drowned at sea.
I don’t detect any suggestion by the media that her life was worth less because she earned her living on the street, and neither should there be. But the fact remains that if Ms Manning were a hairdresser, a service station attendant or a teacher, she would be alive today. Heaven protect the media from people who want the world reported as they think it should be, rather than as it is.
In recent weeks the Americanisms “cookie”, “race car” and “airplane” have appeared in local news and sport stories. These are alien words.
Speakers of New Zealand English would say “biscuit”, “racing car” and “plane” (or “aeroplane” if you want to be pedantic, as pilots tend to be). But like noxious introduced weeds, American terms are invading the linguistic landscape and threatening to render our distinctive form of English extinct.
We surrendered long ago to the silly term “swim meet” – “track meet” can’t be far behind – and I noted that a recent news report about an injured tramper said she had been pinned under a rock on the “trail”. Whatever happened to that good old Kiwi word “track”?
Television is often blamed for the Americanisation of New Zealand English, but I wonder if this latest aberration can be attributed to the popularity of mountain biking.
Off-road biking originated in California, where people ride on trails. As the activity gained a following in New Zealand, mountain bikers adopted American terminology. And because there’s a degree of crossover between mountain biking and tramping, particularly where they use the same routes, the word “trail” now seems to be spreading into the latter activity.
It’s probably only a matter of time before “trampers” become “hikers”, and another Kiwi-ism will have been lost.
Some Americanisms are now so embedded in the language that further resistance is futile. Hardly anyone goes to the pictures any more, still less the flicks; the conquest of the American word “movies” is total. And we may have passed the point where “G’day” could be rescued from the inexorable advance of the meaningless “Hi”.
To take a slightly more obscure example of how the language is changing, no one gets “rooked” any more by a greedy or unscrupulous business person (otherwise known as a “shyster”). No, you get ripped off – another Americanism.
But it’s not too late to salvage some of the threatened expressions that make New Zealand English so distinctive. “Dunny”, originally a Scottish word, seems safely off the endangered list, while “shag”, that evocative old term for sexual congress which I always assumed to be Australasian (though the dictionaries don’t confirm this), has been embraced internationally. “Crikey” is another comeback word, now securely ensconced as the name of a popular Australian media website.
Columnist Steve Braunias has revived that great old Kiwi word “rooster” – as in, “he’s an odd sort of rooster” – while TV host John Campbell has single-handedly done great work in making “bugger” acceptable. In Campbellese, “you silly buggers” is a term of endearment.
Perhaps we should institute a new award: Hero of Kiwi English First Class, perhaps, or Companion of the Honourable Order of Harry Orsman, in memory of the late, indefatigable collector of New Zealand slang.
* * *
THERE’S some very muddled thinking around which I can only attribute to over-indulgence during the holiday period.
Take the Israeli bombardment of Gaza. The usual voices are being raised in outrage and I heard an overwrought radio talkback host, his voice quavering with anger, comparing Israel with Nazi Germany. Talk about emotion triumphing over reason.
I’m no cheerleader for the Israeli government, but there’s a brutal logic in what it is doing. It’s saying to the Hamas fanatics: as long as you continue to fire rockets at our civilian population, we will respond one hundredfold.
What’s happening in Gaza, as with every situation in which innocent civilians are made to suffer for the actions of warmongers, is a tragedy. Hamas, however, could stop the bombs falling tomorrow if it abandoned its own attacks. It’s that simple.
Hamas chooses to continue, despicably using civilians to shelter its murderous terrorists, because it knows that thumb-sucking, hand-wringing sympathisers in the West – such as our radio talkback host – will assign all the responsibility for the carnage to Israel.
To paraphrase a famous line, the Hamas leaders are either extraordinarily thick or they are extraordinarily wicked, and I don’t think they are thick.
* * *
MUDDLED thinking Part II: the news media are under attack for highlighting the fact that Christchurch murder victim Mellory Manning (or “Mallory”, as female radio and TV reporters insist on calling her, in their squeaky, little-girl voices) was a prostitute. Journalists are being judgmental, the complainants say; Ms Manning’s occupation is irrelevant.
In fact Ms Manning’s occupation was as pertinent to the manner of her death as that of a pilot killed in a plane crash or a fisherman drowned at sea.
I don’t detect any suggestion by the media that her life was worth less because she earned her living on the street, and neither should there be. But the fact remains that if Ms Manning were a hairdresser, a service station attendant or a teacher, she would be alive today. Heaven protect the media from people who want the world reported as they think it should be, rather than as it is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)