Speaking Personally

The Rise of Subjective and Confessional Journalism

Rosalind Coward

• Publisher: Bloomsbury Academic
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781350306592
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Languages & Linguistics
• Subtopic: Journalism
• Index: Languages & Linguistics

This book argues that the personal voice, which is often disparaged in journalism teaching, is and always has been a prevalent form of journalism. Paradoxically, the aim of 'objective' reporters is often to be known for a distinctive 'voice'. This personal voice is becoming increasingly visible in the context of 'the confessional society'.

1

The Impersonal Voice and the Fallacies of Objectivity

Ideals of objectivity and impartiality are among journalism’s most deeply cherished and hard-won ideals, and are generally seen as threatened by the recent explosion of more subjective ‘authored’ forms of writing like columns and blogging. ‘Objectivity’ and ‘impartiality’ usually assume the journalist is a detached observer whose subjectivity is invisible and irrelevant. Yet the ‘authorial voice’ – a distinctive voice with a subjectivity and personal address – is not a new phenomenon in the history of journalism. The following chapter looks at how authorial, subjective voices have long been present in editorials, opinion pieces, advocacy and classic reportage, often playing a crucial role in engaging readers and sometime helping reinforce beliefs in objectivity. This type of journalism is rarely given prominence or value in journalism studies, but has produced some of the greatest, most enduring, pieces of journalism.

What is objective journalism?

Critical writing on journalism long ago suggested that the idea of a neutral observer who transparently reports on facts without having a position on them, or affecting them, by his or her presence is problematic. Like other branches of social sciences, journalism studies recognised that so-called scientific objectivity is inevitably a position or an attitude towards its material so embedded it is no longer visible. Yet the ideal remains potent in journalism. Critics might acknowledge the concept’s limitations, but it is still the default ideal surfacing in laments over declining journalistic standards and anxieties about journalism’s future.

Franklin, talking about how proper news has gone down market and become ‘newszak’ implicates the replacement of facts by opinions: ‘the commentariat are in the ascendency’ (2008, p. 14). British journalism, says Harding (2011, p. 32), is at ‘risk going down the same route as the United States. We will end up with a whole string of strident Fox News- and MSNBC-style channels.’ For many critics, the Internet is the apotheosis of these negative trends, a babbling mass where strident subjectivity and personal opinion hold sway. ‘A universe that was once well-ordered, well-mannered and well-balanced in its arguments is now fragmented, diverse, complex, messy, shouting’, says Marsh, characterising those fears. ‘Every possible view of the world is expressed somewhere, and new ones are being invented all the time. And why shouldn’t anyone be free to choose only those accounts of the world that confirm their prejudices?’ (Press Gazette 29 July 2007).

Behind these comments lies the notion that subjectivity, personal opinion and partisan commentary are the enemies of good journalism. Ron Rosenbaum, journalist and sometime professor at Columbia Journalism School, argues this assumption still predominates in many journalism schools. The subjective voice is disparaged compared with what is regarded as ‘proper’ journalism – news and reportage. ‘The term “straight reporting” carries an assumption of superiority’, he says, adding that ‘the atmosphere of J-schools is dominated by those who sneer at anything but voiceless journalism – a sneer that is confusing to students and is, alas, based on philosophic fallacies’ (The New York Observer 26 August 2002). In UK journalism schools, proper journalism is ‘hard news’ – accurate, impersonal and objective – while personalised or subjective writing is cast as soft and unreliable.

This notion of objective journalism is ‘a late comer to journalism’ (Marsh 2007), an ideal which only coalesced into a discernible style of writing and professional ideology in the early decades of the twentieth century. This evolution has been well documented especially in America where, ‘If American journalism were a religion . . . its supreme deity would be objectivity’ (Mindich 1998, p. 1). But on both sides of the Atlantic devotion to impartial facts, presented in a particular style, slowly nudged aside the ‘ragged and confusing’ jumble of different styles and voices which was the ‘prehistory of modern journalism’ (Marr 2005, p. 6). Reportage of the kind which evolved into what we recognise as modern journalism did exist: Marr describes Daniel Defoe as having ‘created a journalistic style that lasted’ and attributed this to a combination of clear succinct writing and a commitment to ‘proper reporting’ (Marr 2005, p. 8). But numerous other styles existed too, including political essays, artisan pamphlets and scandal sheets.

Much early journalism was openly partisan: the high level of stamp duty on newspapers effectively prevented publication of anything not subsidised by political parties or campaigns. Consequently, dominant writing styles were openly partial and authorial, like that of the Economist, launched in 1843 to campaign for free trade and against the Corn Laws. It was only in June 1855, with the removal of the final penny of stamp duty, that British newspapers became commercially viable. This produced an explosion in newsprint seeing the establishment of not just serious papers like the Telegraph and the Times but also new, more popular, forms of journalism covering daily events and human interest stories aimed at mass audiences. Mass circulation transformed newspapers into valuable businesses, bringing in entrepreneurs like Beaverbrook and Northcliffe in Britain and Hearst and Pulitzer in the United States, who saw that owning a successful newspaper was a route not just to wealth but also influence.

While these proprietors often committed their newspapers to definite political postures, newspapers in general started to be seen less as vehicles for one person’s or a party’s opinions and more as providers of information. Even the more sensationalist and human interest newspapers were accompanied by an emerging taste for facts ‘telling it as it is’ over the sometimes-wild and outlandish stories which had dominated the penny press in the immediate aftermath of lifting the stamp duty (Marr 2005). Editions of the Times at the turn of the century illustrate how conventions associated with objective journalism emerged slowly and unevenly. The front pages were mainly classified adverts followed by shipping and ecclesiastical news; large sections were devoted to law court reports as well as lengthy parliamentary debates and detailed listings. The modern news hierarchy and demarcations between editorial styles and reportage were not consistently in place.

Unlike modern journalism, reports were often longer, more discursive and included subjective impressions and interpretations evident in the use of emotive adjectives. ‘Two admirable speeches were made yesterday’, wrote our ‘own correspondent’ under the headline, ‘Italy’s sacrifices. Appeal for further effort’ (The Times 13 February 1918). Although a report from a correspondent, it is heavily editorialised. ‘Italy will answer the appeal for effort and sacrifice. No one who with sympathy and understanding has lived through the difficulties and anxieties of the last three months here can doubt that she will answer. She has stood the test: she has given the proof’ (The Times 13 February 1918). It is only as the twentieth century advances that classic devices of objective reportage emerge: the bald statement of fact, shaved of subjective interpretation and spoken impersonally.

Schudson’s history of journalism in America describes how a number of factors converged to create this style. Among other things, it reflected a new respect with which facts were treated in the late nineteenth century, thanks to the rise of science and the development of realism in literature (Schudson 1978, Stephens 2006). In addition there was the development of the wire service emerging from the new technology of telegraphic communication around 1840. The wire revolutionised journalism because it allowed rapid communication of news. But it was expensive, so newspapers pooled together to form the Associated Press. This resulted in a form writing which avoided any stylistic embellishments offering only ‘facts’ in order to be useable by all parties.

The same factors were at play in Britain, where the arrival of telegraphy and the Associated Press probably only reinforced a development with other roots (Allan 2004). These included the emergence of urban mass society and the general artistic and cultural interest in realism which was already apparent in the commitment of newspapers like the Times to accuracy and the importance of facts above everything (Williams 1998). Whatever the causes, by the turn of the century, good journalism was regarded as ‘writing which was impartial, stood back from the scenes, witnessed and reported on them confining itself entirely to the facts’ (Allan 2004, p. 19).

Marr describes the four things the Victorians did ‘which made Britain the newspaper mad nation it remains even today’. ‘They cut the taxes and lifted the legal restraints which had stopped papers being profitable; they introduced machinery to produce them in large numbers; they educated a population to read them; and they developed the mass democracy which made them relevant’ (Marr 2005, p. 13). Marr highlights the important association being forged between newspapers and democracy, slightly surprising given the commercial foundation of the press. Objectivity is ‘a very peculiar demand to make of institutions which as business corporations, are dedicated first of all to economic survival. It is a peculiar demand to make of institutions which often by tradition or explicit credo are political organs. It is a peculiar demand to make of editors and reporters who have none of the professional apparatus which for doctors or lawyers or scientists is supposed to guarantee objectivity’ (Schudson 1978, p. 3).

Yet, however commercial (indeed for some periods, wildly profitable), news organisations were increasingly recognised as having a key role in modern democracies allowing citizens to access accurate information. The job of reporters came to be seen as uncovering and recounting facts with impartiality not one of cheerleading for the particular political party supported by their newspaper. More and more, news was considered an independent substance, composed of facts; opinion as something else entirely, something slightly ‘disreputable’, according to Stephens (2006). The more discursive story-based journalism and the more partisan or opinionated pieces began to be seen as lesser forms of journalism: Schudson describes how the New York Times came to be seen as a higher form of journalism than the more story-based New York World.

Miraldi describes the journalistic ideals which emerged as ‘a fact-orientated, impartial perspective, independent of state power, of advertisers, and of any special interest, one that allowed competing versions of the “truth” to appear before a rational, choosing public. The press would supply the public – and the decision-making elites – with the knowledge needed to make public policy decisions’ (Miraldi 1990, p. 13). The discursive norms, practices and strategies associated with objective reporting have come to be seen as synonymous with the practice of journalism, a move which tends to mean other journalistic styles, including those which pre-existed them, are not viewed as proper journalism at all (Chalaby 1998). The link between these discursive norms of objective journalism and ‘proper’ journalism is also implicit in the idea of journalism as ‘the fourth estate’, that is serious journalism which holds politics and business to account and provides public forums in which informed debate can take place (Hampton 2010). Consequently, the objectivity of the press and the professionalism of journalists came slowly to be recognised as crucial elements in a democracy.

What does objectivity entail?

Given the importance this ideal has assumed for creating informed citizens able to make meaningful decisions in a free society, it is easy to see why ‘objectivity’ became – and remains – such a powerful ideal both for practising and trainee journalists. Yet it is less easy to specify what objectivity in journalism exactly is. That depends on whom you ask, says Mindich. ‘For some it is a vague point to strive for. For others it involves specific practices’ (Mindich 1998, p. 1). Objectivity is not easily defined and never has been. This ideal is no more than ‘a rough and ready consensus’ (Gaber 2009, p. 41).

In fact, the abstract ideal of objectivity is frequently defined by the practices associated with it. At the forefront are the styles and stances of journalists and journalistic culture. Tuchman (1972), describing the ‘strategic rituals’ of the newsroom, includes a state of ‘detachment’ from the events (not having a stake in them), non-partisanship (not taking sides, not promoting the interests of one particular party or individual), facticity (verification of facts) and balance (fairness, if there is a conflict of interpretation allowing the views of each side). ‘According to professional standards, as they are usually taught in journalism schools, an objective journalist is un-biased, neutral, impartial, detached, balanced, invisible’ (Kitch 1999, p. 114).

Along with these stances and values, one particular journalistic writing convention predominates: ‘the inverted pyramid’, whereby the essential information is established quickly at the beginning of an article. Padding such as adjectives – which inevitably introduce an element of subjective interpretation – would be cut first when space is short. Journalists are required to move swiftly to what happened, where and to whom, to gather opposing views, but not have a position. Interpretation is eliminated, the reporter acting instead as a neutral conduit to the audience who can then form their own opinions.

Of particular interest here is that for some critics, the values of ‘impartiality’ and ‘fairness’ have become synonymous with a particular style of writing and one that requires a ‘detached’ journalistic voice. In Narrative Journalism comes of Age, Kramer describes the voice of a news reporter as rather like a police report. ‘Its very “personalitylessness”’, he says, ‘makes the voice so handy – and thrifty’. Unlike personal styles reporters might use to describe the same fire to their friends down the pub, ‘It can be imitated by any reporter . . . and it can be deployed to good effect by writers of moderate verbal skill. It enables sending reporters where needed, like police officers sent to changeable beats.’ News voice is ‘intentionally bland, non-judgmental, quirk-free, and responsible and sober, a useful presence interested in names and affiliations and times and numbers’ (Kramer 2000).

Kramer continues: ‘If “style is personality”, as the rhetorician Richard Lanham says, readers may detect little companionability in that persona. The news voice does not acknowledge the readers’ savvy or know-how or sophisticated comprehension of motives, people, organizations or the world. It always starts explanations from scratch. Its job is to record, explain, to create a record, report – hardly to entertain.’ Tellingly he adds ‘herein lies its limitation: For all its civic utility, the news voice also limits the newspaper as good company for readers’ (Kramer 2000).

These writing conventions can be easily learned, making them transferable between journalists. So as well as being socially important, fact-based, impartial and impersonal writing is practical. Yet there are many problems in the way this style of writing has come to be seen as the best, and sometimes the only, kind of journalism. Two problems are particularly significant: one is that objectivity is philosophically flawed and the other is that the values embodied in ‘objectivity’ – balance, accuracy, ‘facticity’ – are not synonymous with detachment and invisibility. Arguably the reverse is true, that greater transparency means greater accountability.

Philosophical fallacies of objectivity

Behind apparently neutral reports there’s invariably an edifice of assumptions, as this Daily Telegraph (22 August 2011) report shows: ‘The body of a 77-year-old spinster, Judith Richardson, was discovered at her home in Hexham, Northumberland, after her handbag was found in a bin 22 miles away. Mrs Richardson was bludgeoned to death in her flat in the Northumberland town, where she lived alone in what is thought to be a burglary. She was seen walking her highland terrier, Hamish, on Friday morning in the quiet country town where she lives.’ A number of assumptions are in play. Firstly the murder is covered because it fulfils prevailing news values: it is a crime (sensationalist, interesting), but it’s also a crime in a small, usually peaceful village (unexpected, out of the usual). A number of other values surreptitiously enter the statement. The victim is a ‘spinster’, not just elderly, but unmarried (therefore especially vulnerable and alone), her dog called ‘Hamish’ (local, stereotypically Scottish), she’s in a ‘quiet’ town. In other words, this is especially vicious and unexpected – a juxtaposition of horror and timidity. This is a verifiable record of events but what looks neutral in fact positions readers into certain interpretations.

Even the most neutral ‘objective’ reports, stripped down to the bare facts, can actually be very slanted due to the framing of the report: what the newspaper has covered before, its news values and the juxtaposition of articles: ‘A failed asylum seeker who committed 26 crimes within six years of arriving in the UK could win damages after a judge ruled that he had been unlawfully detained by immigration authorities’ (The Daily Mail 26 August 2011). This passage technically meets the criterion of ‘objective’ writing being impersonal, neutral and an accurate record of a legal situation. But plenty would dispute its ‘objectivity’, occurring in the context of a newspaper with a number of related running preoccupations – the difficulty of removing failed asylum seekers, the apparent use of human rights legislation to protect criminals and the ‘problem’ of immigration of the ‘wrong sort’. What appears a neutral sentence in fact positions the reader into sharing certain assumptions.

The principle extends into weightier subjects. News values, the implicit position and the sources all frame what information is selected and how it is presented. Coverage of the Iraq War in March 2003 has been widely discussed as an area where many branches of the media failed to question the war’s legality accepting the claims made in various government dossiers justifying invasion. Chomsky (2003) has pointed out how US coverage was triumphalist, neglected negative effects of the allied invasion and took as its starting point the government position. Journalism here not only failed to be ‘neutral’ but also potentially influenced events. The ‘journalistic belief in objectivity’, writes Gaber, is based on one of the great ‘truths of journalism which is in fact a great lie’ (Gaber 2009, p. 41).

‘Objectivity’ assumes detachment from the world that is unattainable; no one is able to detach their emotions, their fundamental beliefs and their world view from every situation creating themselves as a sort of tabula rasa. Neither is ‘neutrality’ a genuine possibility. That means never making a judgement, yet judgements are constantly made about who to interview (sources), what to show and what is considered the most important fact. ‘Impartiality often means making real-world judgements – such as weighing a mainstream against a minority one’ (Marsh 2007). The stance implicit in ‘neutrality’ is based on selectivity – about the subjects deemed worth covering, and about the people who are deemed fit to cover them: ‘two aspects are at the heart of debate about journalistic and historical objectivity: what subject matter is considered professional and what role the researcher/reporter plays in how those subjects are researched and written about’ (Kitch 1999, p. 116).

There have been many challenges to this position, but one of the clearest examples came from the challenge of women’s representation in the journalism. ‘Representation’ here means both how women are represented in the journalistic text and how they are represented in the journalistic workforce. In the 1970s, women argued that not only were they under-represented in newspapers, but also there was wider discrimination in journalistic content and how issues were covered. Women journalists had often found themselves confined to covering ‘feminine’ subjects which h...