The Oxygen of Publicity

A moral problem for television journalists in a society beset by terrorism and violence is how to report responsibly without appearing to encourage the perpetrators. In 1985 after hijackers used the capture of an airliner to exploit the passengers and crew politically by making them appear at ‘news conferences’, the British prime minister, Margaret Thatcher, suggested that the media, and television in particular, should not provide terrorists with what she called ‘the oxygen of publicity’. She believed that restricted coverage of such acts might reduce them. Journalists should not write this off–a lot of people agree with that. Three years later the running sore of terrorism in Northern Ireland and Britain led to the introduction by her government of a ban on broadcasting the direct words spoken by members of several organisations, most notably Sinn Fein. Many journalists saw this as a ludicrous and clumsy form of censorship which only gave the IRA and its apologists a small propaganda weapon. The public seemed largely indifferent. Iraqi government censors who looked over a British reporters’ scripts during the Gulf War were particularly fond of mentioning the Sinn Fein ban when the journalists complained. It was only after the IRA and the loyalist terror groups agreed to a ceasefire that the ban was lifted.

The journalist’s dilemma

The genuine, seemingly insoluble, problem this poses for a democratic society is how far those who are committed to destroying democracy should be given the opportunity to espouse ways of doing so. In the early 1960s, television occasionaly allowed itself unwittingly to be manipulated by small, often unrepresentative groups, who cleverly chose to stage demonstrations–deliberately provoking police reaction–on traditionally quiet news days and at times and places which virtually guaranteed them maximum airtime. It was surprising how little trouble there was when the cameras were not there, and how few demonstrations there are now in comparison with those innocent days.

News blackouts

So how far should you co-operate with ‘authority’ to keep the ‘oxygen of publicity’ to a reasonable level? In Britain a voluntary code drawn up by representatives of broadcasting and the press and the police allows for a news blackout in kidnap cases where human life is thought to be seriously at stake.

The existence of any such agreements does not exempt reporters at ‘the sharp end’ from being alert to the legitimate needs of their profession and the public they serve. They should not allow themselves to be manipulated by those who would seek to manage the news to cover up their own shortcomings, or for some other purpose.

At the same time, as a reporter you do not stand apart from society, and ringing declarations about the ‘freedom of the press’ have a hollow sound to them when someone else’s freedom–or life–is at risk.

The oxygen of publicity

Hijackings and other terrorist incidents have led to the deaths of many innocent people. Would it help if such events went unreported? (courtesy BBC Central Stills)

Direct action

The late 1990s has seen an increase in direct action by single-issue pressure groups, trying to delay or stop road schemes or airport extensions, or exports of live animals. They evolved from groups such as CND (Campaign For Nuclear Disarmament). Modern direct action groups use video cameras, mobile telephones, and they know the law and how to use the media. They believed that writing to their MP or campaigning at public enquiries did not get the result required, so direct action was the answer. All the television journalist needs to be aware of is that he or she is part of a sophisticated propaganda battle, and the truth is hard to find amid the claims and counter-claims of the opposing sides.