“How was business in Jo’burg?” I asked a visiting British banker a while ago. I was merely being polite and might as well have enquired about the weather. The reply startled me. “Aggressive”, replied the banker thoughtfully. “To the point of criminality.”
He was, it became apparent, talking about “old” white money. But his observation holds true for many aspects of South African life, especially political disagreements. The viciousness of public rhetoric frequently borders on criminality, toying with hate speech.
This belligerence has also characterised the heated debate about ANC proposals to curb the press. The media, and much of civil society, see the “Information Bill” and the proposed Media Tribunal as a sinister, apartheid-style threat of censorship. The repeated suggestion is that it’s a crude attempt to stem the flow of exposés of high-level corruption.
Apologists defending the proposal waffle disingenuously about national security.
Another anti-media claim is that there is an obsession, amounting to a reactionary conspiracy, with reporting on rifts within the ANC. The broadest, most emotive objection is that a daily diet of corruption allegations feels like an assault on black dignity.
The short answer is that silencing the press will not make corruption vanish. And the rifts within the ANC are there for all to see. Rival factions lash into each other with unrestrained venom. Gagging the press will not make such schisms magically evaporate.
Crucially, many corruption stories are leaked by those with inside knowledge: one flank of the ANC ratting on the other. The acid test, of course, is: are the allegations true?
Silence, therefore, is the worst option. It is the habitat where corruption flourishes. That will do nothing for anyone’s dignity.
A more serious critique, however, cites limited ownership and a reluctance to print timely apologies. Both points are fair. But, in contrast to the paranoia that emanates from government spokesmen, these are faults prevalent in the press all over the world.
The delay of the ANC-friendly The New Age, with the five most senior staff resigning on the scheduled launch day, should also give the ANC an idea how of tricky it is to get a paper out every day – and that, like the ANC, battles rage in the newsroom, too.
The fact is that all newspapers tell a story. If conservative, they will follow one narrative. If left-wing, another. In countries with a far wider spectrum of newspapers you frequently read two reports of the same event – say, the current anti-government protests in France – and it will seem as if they occurred on different planets.
Newspapers also have commercial imperatives. There’s a simple rule of thumb: the smaller the circulation, the less interference. When I worked briefly at the Daily Express, I rang the son of the proprietor of the rival Daily Mail with a legitimate query that would have embarrassed the Rothermere dynasty. Junior must have scribbled a note to his secretary – since even before I hung up, the Express editor was telling my boss that he had received a call from his counterpart at the Mail, and that the story was to be spiked. Fortunately, I also worked for Private Eye, where such stories could – and did – appear.
So, yes, let’s admit, newspapers pick and choose. And the stories are usually chosen on the basis that they fit that newspaper’s prevailing narrative. It’s called bias.
The doyen of Fleet Street’s royal reporters once told me about the miraculous transformation of Princess Anne. For years, with her crusty manner, she was portrayed as “Princess Nasty”. She snapped at a photographer – story. She smiled at another – non-story. However, following her on one foreign tour, the royal pack were stumped for fresh copy. Finally a seasoned hack cried: “I know, let’s make her Princess Nice.” Thus it has been ever since.
So it’s possible to have different narratives. Currently, there are two conflicting accounts in South Africa. One version is that the press, as under apartheid, is a fearless defender of freedom. The other contradicts this: that in the bad old days the press did much to dehumanise black people – and is now largely hostile to the current government.
Neither is entirely true. Both camps should be more modest about their claims.
Under apartheid, there were brave newspapers and courageous journalists, although often in the minority. I walked out of my first job as a cub reporter when, after presenting pictures of starving children in the Transkei, the news editor of a Cape Town newspaper snapped: “You don’t expect me to make people choke on their cornflakes, do you?”
The old nationalists would have cheered that censure and increasingly passed legislation to ensure such distasteful stories didn’t disturb the public. Ironically, this is pretty much what the new nationalists are now proposing.
To temper the increasingly aggressive rhetoric in South African public life, a lot more humility is called for on all sides. The only way out of the censorship impasse is for the government and the media to both commit themselves, boldly, to far greater openness.
