when the media are the message: looking back on the manila pen siege

On November 29, 2007, those who report the news became the news.

At last year's standoff at the Manila Peninsula between Sen. Antonio Trillanes IV, Brig. Gen. Danilo Lim, and their men on the one hand, and government forces led by the Philippine National Police on the other, the media found themselves in the middle -- a sort of gray area where the reporter met the reported and became both victim and culprit.

For even as the reporters were teargassed and shot at along with the rebel soldiers after the PNP's 3pm deadline for leaving the hotel, they were among the more than 100 people arrested that day.

The Manila Peninsula incident not only raised many questions on the arrests and on the sometimes opposing sides the media and the government take, it also called attention to how journalists make judgment calls.

They were asked to leave the hotel by 3pm, but did not. A story was unfolding, and they had to be there to cover it.

What happened after the deadline is now known and has been the subject of many editorials, reports, debates, and perhaps most important of all, dialogue.

In a story by Newsbreak's Carmela Fonbuena last year, journalism professor and media ethics advocate Chay Hofileña pointed out that things could have been different:

[S]he expressed the belief that the media should have left the hotel as requested. She agreed that to leave an area of coverage was a reporter’s call, but she questioned the news judgment that was employed in this case. To her, the story did not merit extensive media coverage.

By the time the police requested the media to vacate the hotel shortly before the 3 p.m. deadline, Hofileña said that surely the reporters had already “enough” coverage for their stories. And because the incident occurred in a confined area, “chances of your reporters getting hurt are higher,” she added. “Is it worth putting your reporter’s life on the line? Was the story of such importance? My sense is it was not. There was no massing of people and there were only a few soldiers. It appeared that it wasn’t well organized. From the onset, as experienced journalists, you had an indication that it was doomed to fail.”

Of course it would have been a bigger story had Trillanes and his men succeeded. But the more important point here is the threat to the journalists' safety.

Fortunately -- and no thanks to the soldiers who later on sealed all exits and kept the reporters effectively trapped inside the hotel -- no one was hurt.

When the press conference turned into a war zone, the reporters didn't have to be there. But their being there didn't make them rebels. And it certainly didn't make them conspirators.

At the end of the day -- after the wet handkerchiefs, the smoke, and the handcuffs -- the media were there simply because they had a job to do.

How well they continue to do that job will rest on many things. One of these is how well they make judgment calls to secure their safety or to secure the story no matter what.

ap photographer moved by readers' response

He could have snapped the photo and then disappeared from their lives. But he didn't.

Associated Press photographer Jerome Delay is a seasoned journalist who has taken many photos of war and refugees.

On November 6, he shot 11-year-old Protegee and her niece, three-year-old Reponse, in the town of Kiwanja in eastern Congo.

The girls had been separated from their families in the war in Congo. Delay's photo showed Protegee carrying a sobbing Reponse on her back, while wiping tears from her eyes with her shirt.

According to Delay's own account, he was "particularly moved" by the hundreds of emails that had poured in after the photo was published.

Himself a father, he set out to find the two girls and help reunite them with their family.

Delay's actions would seem to be atypical of photojournalists and journalists in general. Not every journalist would have done what he did.

Which causes one to wonder: Did Delay violate any rule or code of conduct?

Should he have just maintained distance between himself and the girls?

Are his actions something that other media practitioners should emulate?

Aside from the obvious risks, reporting on conflict situations -- especially on wars -- presents many challenges. The reporter must know how to cover such situations in a sensitive manner, showing the human conditions (grief, rage, fear, poverty, and so on) while giving space and due respect to the people in them.

It's not easy being a journalist in Delay's position. Reporting on conflict in any form can harden anyone.

What Delay did -- and I'm sure there are others who have performed or are performing similar acts of kindness -- was his duty not only as a journalist, but as a human being.

Another point worth making is that Delay was pushed to do what he did because of the reactions of readers.

When the audience responds positively to a journalist and his/her work, it can be a very powerful force.

All this made for a happy ending for Protegee, Reponse, and their family.

Read more about Delay, Protegee, and Reponse here.

lessons learned

I haven't been following the Ces Drilon kidnapping as much as I would have wanted to. So when I came across this story on inquirer.net, I begin to wish I had.

Here is an excerpt:

(PNP Director General Avelino) Razon said that if there was any lesson from the kidnapping, it was also to properly exercise press freedom.

"Ang aral po dito laging sinasabi hindi natin puwedeng i-exercise press freedom na malalagay ang [The lesson here is we can't exercise press freedom by putting] reporters or journalists in harm's way, na hawak ng terrorista or criminal elements," said Razon.

Was caution thrown to the winds in this case? Was there a lapse in judgment? Was there a violation of trust, an unreliable source or contact?

As I said, I wasn't able to follow the case, so these are sincere questions, not mere rhetoric. My point is to learn from this, as any media analyst or observer -- armchair, virtual, or real -- would want to. After all, we all have the benefit of 20/20 hindsight.

What Razon said is simply another way of saying that no story is worth a reporter's life. Even if you're not a conflict or war reporter or correspondent, you would know this by heart or at least would have heard this enough.

But this begs the question: "journalist par excellance" or not, why, oh, why would anyone not a war reporter be sent into a war or conflict zone?

No story is worth a person's life.

the princess and the paparazzi

The Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary defines paparazzo as "a freelance photographer who aggressively pursues celebrities for the purpose of taking candid photographs." The term came into use after the 1959 film La dolce vita, by Federico Fellini, featured such a photographer whose name was Paparazzo.

The paparazzi -- plural form of "paparazzo" -- feed on the public's insatiable appetite for delving into the private lives of movie and television stars, politicians, and in Europe, royalty. The lens of the paparazzi's cameras function much as the lens of the microscope does: examining, enlarging, and exposing details of these celebrities' lives in the name of sensationalism and tabloid journalism. And for a quick but hefty buck; photos of public figures and celebrities, especially "exclusive" ones, sell.

The truth is, photos can tell a story much more eloquently and dramatically than words can. They have greater impact, according to the rawness of emotion captured through the lens. The paparazzi know this. But their purpose is different. Impact, in the case of the paparazzi, is measured in the fleeting and secret moments in the lives of celebrities, snapped while hiding in the bushes after hours of waiting in the dark, or while chasing the subject down a busy street. It is in what they are able to capture, and when: exclusive photos of this politician dating that actress, the first photos of the pregnant princess, the last photos of the celebrity couple together. And it is in how human or ordinary the stars are seen in the photos: they dine, shop, marry, divorce, make mistakes -- and yes, suffer fatal accidents, as mere mortals do.

Because of their methods -- not to mention the resulting photos -- the paparazzi have had run-ins with the celebrities they cover. The most famous controversy involving the paparazzi was 10 years ago, after a vehicular accident killed Princess Diana, Dodi Al Fayed, and their driver, Henri Paul. With the inquest into their deaths having already started at London's High Court, the paparazzi and their practices are once again thrust into public scrutiny.

According to a news report on BBC yesterday, a paparazzo named Romuald Rat called one of the British papers from the site of the accident. He was offering exclusive photos of Princess Diana -- taken as she lay dying -- for GBP300,000 (roughly USD600,000). The inquest also repeated witness accounts of the paparazzi at the scene, taking photos of the princess just seconds after the crash, instead of helping her and the other passengers in the car.

There is something so glaringly wrong with the picture of the crash site painted by these accounts. After all, in real life, one could only hope that anyone arriving at the scene of an accident would call for help or otherwise provide assistance to the injured. The fact that the paparazzi did not -- according to the statements of witnesses -- and even sought to capitalize on the accident, as in the case of Mr. Rat, speaks volumes about the ethics (or lack thereof) of that profession.

The evidence raises important ethical questions. How far will the paparazzi -- and all media practitioners, for that matter -- go to get the story? Would they break rules of conduct, overstep boundaries of human decency? Would the job take precedence over morality? 

Were the paparazzi directly responsible for the car crash, and ultimately for the death of Princess Diana and her companions? Should they be held accountable for it? These questions may very well be not just for the paparazzi, but for the tabloid editors, publishers, and readers whose demand for such photos necessitated the supply.

the media's choices in the coverage of the virginia tech shooting

In times of crisis and tragedy, the challenge to media organizations remains the same: aside from adhering to the basic tenets of journalism, reporters and decision makers must exercise greater sensitivity and responsibility in their reportage.

The Virginia Tech shooting last Monday was certainly no exception.

But if in the past, the challenge would mostly revolve around getting a reporter or crew to the scene and transmitting footage as quickly as possible, the shooting presented challenges we would not have even had to consider in previous years.

unique challenges
For one, citizen journalism played a large part in how the shooting was reported. CNN's now familiar footage of the incident taken from a cellphone camera was courtesy of Virginia Tech undergrad Jamal Albarghouti. While a bit shaky and below broadcast quality, the footage put CNN's viewers on the scene. The message: Albarghouti was there. Not a single reporter or cameraman from a mainstream media organization was.

But there's more. On Wednesday, NBC received a package containing materials from the gunman, Virginia Tech student Cho Seung-Hui, portions of which they aired on NBC Nightly News. A video showed Cho ranting, while photos showed him in various "Rambo"-like poses, pointing a gun at the camera.

media response
Citizen journalism draws mixed reactions from professional journalists. Armed only with digital cameras and mobile phones, citizen journalists might find themselves in the same kind of danger more experienced ones might be more prepared for. Does this make them heroes? Without them, what would we know, see, or hear of the Virginia Tech shooting?

Albarghouti was the world's eyes and ears in those moments. He documented those moments as he perhaps thought a good citizen -- any citizen -- should do. And he turned in his footage online via CNN's I-Reports. It was his choice to make -- one for which he reportedly got paid, after CNN used his footage on the air.

The case is the same with the NBC footage. It was a choice. Though Steve Capus, president of NBC News, assures us that the decision to air photographs and parts of the video was "not taken lightly," is it one we will remember if a similar incident takes place in the future? Remember that Cho's model was Columbine. Besides being disturbing and graphic, could the images -- and the fact that they've been aired countless times -- turn Cho into a misunderstood underdog kind of hero in some way?

Sure, the airing of Cho's material might allow us some insight that may aid in identifying future gunmen, but would it help us prevent such carnage in the future? What are the effects on viewers -- on one hand, the families of the victims, the survivors; and on the other, children, extremists, the mentally and emotionally disturbed?

It may be a long shot, but NBC's airing of Cho's material can be compared to giving in to a hostage taker's demands. It is an attention-getting device, a call for attention. Nowhere among Cho's material can an apology be found; no mea culpa, no confession, no remorse. Instead we find reasons -- a man justifying his actions by hate, anger, and the need to act out his aggression. It is distressing and painful to watch.

we, the audience
All of this brings us back to the audience. What does this kind of coverage say about the audience? Are we starved for speed and scoops? Why did Albarghouti's footage sell? Would we make the same decision he made?

There are more questions, none of them easy: Is it all just part of the mad scramble for ratings? Do we really, truly want to watch the rantings of a killer and know why on God's earth he conceived of and carried out such an act? Do we really want to get inside the minds of such criminals? What kind of coverage do we really want?

In times of crisis and tragedy, what do the media think we, the audience, want? Judging by their response to the Virginia Tech shooting, it is clear: we all had to be there at that moment, and we all had to be the gunman too.