The “American” Problem

US Shoreline

One thing an American journalist, in theory, can be without fear is an American; a civic-minded, well-informed citizen.  Again in theory, journalists need not fear having patriotic tendencies, or overall pride in one’s community.  That pride or patriotism doesn’t prevent cynicism, skepticism, or displeasure with that same community, of course.  In my opinion that mixture of pride and skepticism is what helps fill a journalist-sized hole in society—we are the ones who see the darkest souls and brightest angels our communities nurture or neglect, and we are the ones who can shine a brighter light on the virtue and vice.

Young journalists are warned to be careful of their associations before they’ve sharpened their first pencils for their first scoops.  “Be careful of clubs you join” or “If you are covering a political rally, don’t leave pamphlets on your dashboard” are not uncommon pearls thrown to the rookie reporter.  The reason is straight-forward enough: a journalist shouldn’t associate in a way which might question the integrity of his or her journalism.  Even the perception of bias could corrupt the public view of all subsequent coverage by that reporter, with justification or without. Being an American, though, well that’s just okay.

So what happens when an American reporter can’t be “American” without hesitation?  What happens when a journalist has to tread lightly with one’s patriotism?

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Analysis: The state of journalism and multiculturalism in German public radio

Journalism's changing

Editor’s Note:  This is a personal narrative and commentary about German public radio, and multiculturalism therein, based on my experience in the last years.  I offer my observations, suggestions, and hopes, perhaps to prompt further thought or consideration from journalists and newsreaders alike.  Warning..this is a long one! A version of this is found in my book Kneading Journalism.

“You have no idea what you are talking about, Luka*.“  The small Greek colleague pushed a harshly dismissive comment toward Luka, incensing something primal in the latter.  I had not yet met this colleague, after all I was just considered a Praktikant, an intern, a visitor, a stranger and kept more or less to myself unless prompted.  I sat at the back corner of the meeting table in a German editorial meeting.

“How do you know what I have an idea about?” Luka shot back in his thick accent—Bosnian or Hungarian, I wasn’t quite sure.  The other members of this multi-cultural editorial staff shifted their eyes nervously, some chuckled, not sure what to do.  I stopped moving all-together, frozen in a pose for observation: my posture slouched, my chin buried in my hands, my eyes fixed.  A discussion about refugees from Eastern Europe quickly turned heated.

“You don’t know what the refugees need.  You don’t know who they are, or what they are doing.”  The Greek colleague looked sure of himself, almost taunting the situation to escalate.  A soft winter light shone in through the windows behind me, and story ideas pinned to a tack board fluttered slightly.

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Burns Alumni Newsletter, Oslo

I was fortunate enough to be able to write this article for the Arthur Burns Fellowship alumni newsletter.  To see the whole newsletter click here.  (Opens in a new window.)  For just my article, keep reading…

The transformation of sleepy Oslo to fortified Nobel host city was tangible. There was anxiety on the sidewalks as citizens walked carefully by concrete barricades, policemen with machine guns and bomb-sniffing dogs—all in place for the arriving VIPs.  Even manhole covers were welded shut as a security measure—the official sign that a U.S. president is or has been to a city.

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Peace Prize: Recap and Final Thoughts

Press
As a journalist I like to think my view on life is influenced by a variety of sources, ideally giving me enough information to responsibly and accurately inform my audience.  Experiencing something first-hand is often one of the most powerful ways to report a story.  As I sat on the streets of Oslo after President Obama had left, I drank an apple juice, and watched life continue as before the Nobel ceremony, the reality of the previous 2 days set in—I had witnessed something truly historic…for better or worse.

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Photos: Nobel Peace Prize Ceremony

To Oslo for Peace…

By Night

 President Obama isn’t here yet, but the city is breathing anticipation–not all of it positive.  For 99 Norwegian Crowns one can buy an Obama t-shirt with “Hope” across the bottom, and for 0 Crowns one can enjoy Greenpeace’s characteristically aggressive campaigning for environmental issues.

So in just a few hours the President will board Air Force One and begin his 26 hours in Oslo, to accept a controversial and arguably confusing peace prize, just days after ordering the deployment of 30-thousand more American troops to Afghanistan.  This is an uncomfortable time; an insecure time; and this is the time in which we live.

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