First, an admission.
I’m a news junkie. Especially radio news and current affairs. Probably in part because I spent a decade working in the RTE newsroom as a broadcast journalist through the 1980s. And also because I’m still a journalist, and still interested in what goes on around me.
But after a month in Australia with my daughter and her family to start 2012, I’ve been trying to kick the habit. A little bit, sure. But definitely trying to tune out somewhat.
The time difference meant that I couldn’t conveniently listen in over the internet to Morning Ireland, Today PK, News at One, Liveline, or Drivetime. I could, and did, read the online newspapers and radio stories, but it wasn’t the direct part of my day which those and similar programmes have been over many years.
As a perspective, I have been away for long periods before without that same kind of contact. I was usually glad to come back to the norm of being all the time up to date with the happenings.
When I was in Australia this time I didn’t at all miss the direct connection. I could have made the effort, with the various internet playback and podcast facilities, but I didn’t. That there’s still a buzz of optimism about the Australian scene was no small element in my switching off from home.
But, you know what was the key thing? Not hearing the whinging. Not listening to the tit-for-tat reactive politicking in the Dail. Not having to wince when a Fianna Fail former minister complained about something the successor Government was doing. Not reacting to current Government constantly blaming their predecessors for where we are (time they stopped that).
Not switching off the radio every time Gerry Adams or his acolytes pontificated about what was wrong with an Ireland they had done their proxy damndest to put out of business. And being quite glad that a pink shirt and similars, along with a long-established and lugubrious Socialist bottom-feeding Euro MP who wouldn’t know positive if it was a gene replacement, were not twittering in my ear.
I came home. Had a think. Did I want to get back into the flow? I suppose, honest, I wasn’t really sure. I compromised.
I decided, for an indeterminate period, to abstain. Not cold turkey. I still light up my MacBook in the morning to check out the news, locally and global. And I’ll listen to the Irish radio news. But not the local current affairs programmes, radio or TV. Foreign is OK, so BBC News 24 is a sometimes thing, Al Jazeera also. But these not even that much. I do check the global edition of the New York Times most of the time, because the journalism is excellent and their viewpoints are considered.
I have tuned into my local radio station a bit more. Because local news is what I’m at anyhow, apart from my global automotive and travel stuff. All three are part of my living.
I told a longtime friend of mine last week—he’s a career editor in RTE—what I had been doing. “I don’t feel deprived,” I said. “In fact, I feel very positive.”
He shrugged. In a non-offensive way. “You’re right. And I understand. But remember, we have to present all sides. We’re a state organisation, we can’t take sides.”
I used to be like that. Presenting all sides. I’m a journalist more than three decades, and I have done my best all those years to write my stories in a fair and balanced manner. I still do.
But I have now gone beyond what I call the journalistic balancing act. I will be fair, always, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take sides sometimes.
And in the last couple of weeks, tuning myself out of the whinging, I feel better off.
Hey, I run a small business. Anything that makes me feel more positive has to be good for that. Also, I’m a person like any other of us on this island. If we all listened more to positives, we could be quicker out of this.
And that’s the side I’m taking.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Thursday, October 6, 2011
We're not done for yet
Ireland ranks 12th out of 82 countries in a new Global Creativity Index which puts Sweden at the top, followed by the United States, Finland, Denmark and Australia.
The rest ahead of Ireland are New Zealand, Canada, Norway, Singapore, The Netherlands and Belgium. Following us are the UK, Switzerland, France, Germany, Spain, Taiwan, Italy and Hong Kong. Israel, Russia, Brazil, India and China are middle ranked at positions 24, 30, 46, 50 and 58 respectively.
The Index was created at the University of Toronto as a more modern measurement of competitiveness and prosperity.
It is designed in the turbulence of the global economic recession as a broader way of measuring a country than the long-standing Gross National Product, which many social and financial experts believe has outlived its usefulness.
The Index measures in essence what the authors call the ’Three Ts’—Technology, Talent and Tolerance. It applies broader measures of economic prosperity, sustainability, happiness and subjective well-being than are done for GNP or GDP.
The technological aspects included are R&D investment, researchers, and patents per capita. On talent the key element is educational attainment and the creative class. Tolerance is ascertained from surveys of the treatment of immigrants, racial and ethnic minorities, and gays and lesbians.
Without going into the nitty gritty of the Index, it must show that there's hope for us yet. If we win the Rugby World Cup, it should be worth a couple more rungs closer to the top.
The rest ahead of Ireland are New Zealand, Canada, Norway, Singapore, The Netherlands and Belgium. Following us are the UK, Switzerland, France, Germany, Spain, Taiwan, Italy and Hong Kong. Israel, Russia, Brazil, India and China are middle ranked at positions 24, 30, 46, 50 and 58 respectively.
The Index was created at the University of Toronto as a more modern measurement of competitiveness and prosperity.
It is designed in the turbulence of the global economic recession as a broader way of measuring a country than the long-standing Gross National Product, which many social and financial experts believe has outlived its usefulness.
The Index measures in essence what the authors call the ’Three Ts’—Technology, Talent and Tolerance. It applies broader measures of economic prosperity, sustainability, happiness and subjective well-being than are done for GNP or GDP.
The technological aspects included are R&D investment, researchers, and patents per capita. On talent the key element is educational attainment and the creative class. Tolerance is ascertained from surveys of the treatment of immigrants, racial and ethnic minorities, and gays and lesbians.
Without going into the nitty gritty of the Index, it must show that there's hope for us yet. If we win the Rugby World Cup, it should be worth a couple more rungs closer to the top.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Too much information
We're drowning in too much information.
About everything. But especially about the financial underpinnings of our way of life.
I'm a journalist. Have been for 35-plus years. I know that getting information out is not just important, but essential to making sure we are in some level of control of our destinies. It's the basis of what I have been doing for most of my working life. Besides which, it has given me a living.
Information is power. Spreading information gives power to more people. Making it absolutely available means that the power is with all the people.
Or does it? On another side of the coin, is it desirable? Maybe it opens up more possibility of manipulation? Or, less conspiratorially, mistakes?
Reporters, by the nature of what we do, need new stories every day. Even several times a day. On a slow news beat, we look towards possibilities. To avoid being bollicked by our News Editors. Who in turn want to avoid being bollicked by their Managing Editors. Who in turn ...
(Hmm—my iPad's word processor doesn't seem to understand the word 'bollicked'.)
Say, in a newsroom in America, a financial reporter looks at the situation in Ireland where (there's a potential that—in an as yet hypothetical situation) Ireland's economy has found itself exposed (again) to a (possible) substantial difficulty.
So our financial reporter fiddles around with some figures, comes up with possibilities, adds a dash of speculative future (hey, this is what the global financial market system does all the time, so there's nothing intrinsically wrong with this, right?). He comes up with a proposition that Ireland is (once more) on the brink of financial collapse (take out the round brackets in the par above and you have it). He files it and goes home (or to his favourite Irish bar on Wall Street).
The story is read by an intern in one of the financial rating agencies—Fitch, Moodys, Standard & Poor's. Take your pick (and ignore the wandering apostrophe). He hasn't yet got to the Irish bar, because he needs to provide a report before he can go. It is a given for somebody in his game that good news is not a valid report—financial rating agencies must be feared, or nobody takes them seriously.
On the basis of the 'potential/hypothetical/possible' but now 'factual because it is published' story, our intern downgrades Ireland's sovereign credit rating by a letter and then heads off to have an Obama-certified sub-standard pint of Guinness in the Irish bar.
The Wall Street Journal picks up the downgrading, and makes it a front-page, third column, below-the-fold item. The story is moved on by the news services. In most EU countries, they have much more to be involved with than stuff from Ireland, but it might make a 'kicker' for the next day.
The Night Editor on Morning Ireland on RTE Radio One hasn't yet realised that there's a jaded public out there in relation to Ireland's financial problems. He or she locks on to the latest financial bashing of the country. It's bad news, therefore 'good' news.
The next day the programme leads with the story. A brace of standard commentators—tame economist and on-the-make politician—are given space to fill. What they say becomes lead on the subsequent nine o'clock News. An hour later, Pat Kenny has a couple of different 'experts', working to make the matter more grave because otherwise nobody will hear them again. By the time the News at One broadcasts its version, Joe Duffy has Liveline listeners cued up to offer 'real people' views. Drivetime gets the hind tit, but that doesn't stop it from sucking furiously to get a last pull of the witch's milk before the country gets into Sport.
That evening, the Taoiseach, or maybe the Minister for Finance, has to deny—from an opposition query in the Dail—that Ireland is in even deeper financial manure. Denial is how small stuff gets longer legs.
What had been a mere 'kicker' in the European news channels now gains traction. It moves up the news schedule. Financial pundits are trollied out across the TV business spectrum. By the late evening, Ireland is further in the financial mire by a quantum.
A late desk American reporter picks up the story. It is something that will save him at his deadline ...
Nationally, and globally, that's possibly why we are where we are.
If we turned in our iPhones for smoke signals, we might be better off.
About everything. But especially about the financial underpinnings of our way of life.
I'm a journalist. Have been for 35-plus years. I know that getting information out is not just important, but essential to making sure we are in some level of control of our destinies. It's the basis of what I have been doing for most of my working life. Besides which, it has given me a living.
Information is power. Spreading information gives power to more people. Making it absolutely available means that the power is with all the people.
Or does it? On another side of the coin, is it desirable? Maybe it opens up more possibility of manipulation? Or, less conspiratorially, mistakes?
Reporters, by the nature of what we do, need new stories every day. Even several times a day. On a slow news beat, we look towards possibilities. To avoid being bollicked by our News Editors. Who in turn want to avoid being bollicked by their Managing Editors. Who in turn ...
(Hmm—my iPad's word processor doesn't seem to understand the word 'bollicked'.)
Say, in a newsroom in America, a financial reporter looks at the situation in Ireland where (there's a potential that—in an as yet hypothetical situation) Ireland's economy has found itself exposed (again) to a (possible) substantial difficulty.
So our financial reporter fiddles around with some figures, comes up with possibilities, adds a dash of speculative future (hey, this is what the global financial market system does all the time, so there's nothing intrinsically wrong with this, right?). He comes up with a proposition that Ireland is (once more) on the brink of financial collapse (take out the round brackets in the par above and you have it). He files it and goes home (or to his favourite Irish bar on Wall Street).
The story is read by an intern in one of the financial rating agencies—Fitch, Moodys, Standard & Poor's. Take your pick (and ignore the wandering apostrophe). He hasn't yet got to the Irish bar, because he needs to provide a report before he can go. It is a given for somebody in his game that good news is not a valid report—financial rating agencies must be feared, or nobody takes them seriously.
On the basis of the 'potential/hypothetical/possible' but now 'factual because it is published' story, our intern downgrades Ireland's sovereign credit rating by a letter and then heads off to have an Obama-certified sub-standard pint of Guinness in the Irish bar.
The Wall Street Journal picks up the downgrading, and makes it a front-page, third column, below-the-fold item. The story is moved on by the news services. In most EU countries, they have much more to be involved with than stuff from Ireland, but it might make a 'kicker' for the next day.
The Night Editor on Morning Ireland on RTE Radio One hasn't yet realised that there's a jaded public out there in relation to Ireland's financial problems. He or she locks on to the latest financial bashing of the country. It's bad news, therefore 'good' news.
The next day the programme leads with the story. A brace of standard commentators—tame economist and on-the-make politician—are given space to fill. What they say becomes lead on the subsequent nine o'clock News. An hour later, Pat Kenny has a couple of different 'experts', working to make the matter more grave because otherwise nobody will hear them again. By the time the News at One broadcasts its version, Joe Duffy has Liveline listeners cued up to offer 'real people' views. Drivetime gets the hind tit, but that doesn't stop it from sucking furiously to get a last pull of the witch's milk before the country gets into Sport.
That evening, the Taoiseach, or maybe the Minister for Finance, has to deny—from an opposition query in the Dail—that Ireland is in even deeper financial manure. Denial is how small stuff gets longer legs.
What had been a mere 'kicker' in the European news channels now gains traction. It moves up the news schedule. Financial pundits are trollied out across the TV business spectrum. By the late evening, Ireland is further in the financial mire by a quantum.
A late desk American reporter picks up the story. It is something that will save him at his deadline ...
Nationally, and globally, that's possibly why we are where we are.
If we turned in our iPhones for smoke signals, we might be better off.
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