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Newspapers must stop taking advertising from environmental villains
George Monbiot, Guardian
Our editorials tell people to reduce their impact on the planet, but our advertising urges people to consume more. We must draw the line at helping to sell gas-guzzling cars and carbon-intensive flights
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… I believe that advertising is a pox on the planet. It is one of the forces driving us towards destruction, as it creates needs that did not exist before and promotes consumption way beyond sustainable levels. I believe that it is also socially damaging, turning ours into a more grasping, more atomised society, focused on material display rather than solidarity and community action.
I also recognise that it pays my wages. More precisely, that it provides around three-quarters of newspapers’ income. Without it, they would not exist: certainly not in their current form, almost certainly not at all. For all their evident faults, newspapers perform a crucial democratic service: without professional reporting, it is impossible to make informed decisions.
Were it not for an industry I detest, I could not be a full-time writer.
(5 June 2009)
Embrace the paradox. -BA
Funniest award of the week (to The Australian from oil industry)
Big Gav, Peak Energy
The Australian reports that they have won an award from the APPEA (the local petroleum industry group) for their climate coverage (ie. giving a voice to the dwindling band of cranks who don’t believe in global warming and various lobbyists for the coal industry) – Editor-in-chief Chris Mitchell wins top award.
THE editor-in-chief of The Australian, Chris Mitchell, has won the JN Pierce Award for Media Excellence for leading the newspaper’s coverage of climate change policy. The award is presented each year by the Australian Petroleum Production and Exploration Association.
(6 June 2009)
Ehrenrich: Welcome to a Dying Industry, Journalism Grads
Barbara Ehrenreich, San Francisco Chronicle
Barbara Ehrenreich delivered this commencement address to the UC Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism class of 2009 on May 16:
The dean gave me some very strict instructions about what to say today. No whining and no crying at the podium. No wringing of hands or gnashing of teeth. Be upbeat, be optimistic, he said – adding that it wouldn’t hurt to throw in a few tips about how to apply for food stamps.
So let’s get the worst out of the way right up front: You are going to be trying to carve out a career in the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression. You are furthermore going to be trying to do so within what appears to be a dying industry. You have abundant skills and talents – it’s just not clear that anyone wants to pay you for them.
Well, you are not alone.
How do you think it feels to be an autoworker right now? And I’ve spent time with plenty of laidoff paper mill workers, construction workers and miners. They’ve got skills; they’ve got experience. They just don’t have jobs.
So let me be the first to say this to you: Welcome to the American working class.
You won’t get rich, unless of course you develop a sideline in blackmail or bank robbery. You’ll be living some of the problems you report on – the struggle for health insurance, for child care, for affordable housing. You might never have a cleaning lady. In fact, you might be one. I can’t tell you how many writers I know who have moonlighted as cleaning ladies or waitresses. And you know what? They were good writers. And good cleaning ladies too, which is no small thing.
Let me tell you about my own career, which I think is relevant, not because I’m representative or exemplary in any way, but because I’ve seen some real ups and downs in this business.
… Which brings me back to the subject of journalism as a profession. We are not part of an elite. We are part of the working class, which is exactly how journalists have seen themselves through most of American history – as working stiffs. We can be underpaid, we can be jerked around, we can be laid off arbitrarily – just like any autoworker or mechanic or hotel housekeeper or flight attendant.
But there is this difference: A laid-off autoworker doesn’t go into his or her garage and assemble cars by hand. But we – journalists – we can’t stop doing what we do.
As long as there is a story to be told, an injustice to be exposed, a mystery to be solved, we will find a way to do it. A recession won’t stop us. A dying industry won’t stop us. Even poverty won’t stop us because we are all on a mission here. That’s the meaning of your journalism degree. Do not consider it a certificate promising some sort of entitlement. Consider it a license to fight.
In the ’70s, it was gonzo journalism. For us right now, it’s guerrilla journalism, and we will not be stopped.
(6 June 2009)
Also at Common Dreams.
