Stories of sexual assault and violence, natural calamities, and deadly accidents often occupy news space. It is not easy for journalists to be fair and robust in their reportage while also respecting the privacy of the families of the victims. But unless a journalist understands trauma better, they cannot write a ‘good’ story.
Three decades ago, during my journalism course, I was not taught about the ethics of covering tragedies. Neither were there discussions in the newsroom about being sensitive while reporting tragedies and respecting and protecting the privacy of the families of victims. Media sensitisation programmes did not exist until the early 2000s when non-governmental organisations began conducting workshops to train reporters on the terminologies to be used while filing reports about HIV-AIDS.
In the 1990s, I came across a nurse working in a hospital in Delhi. She went under the knife to get rid of some stubborn moles on her cheeks and neck before her marriage to a doctor working in the same hospital. The procedure was being done by a colleague in dermatology.
Unfortunately, things went wrong. A source informed me that she had slipped into coma post-surgery. We managed to get a photo of the nurse, who was intubated in the ICU, and other details from her fiancée.
But after sharing his story with us, the doctor, her fiancé, requested us not to publish the story and the photo. His reason was unique. He argued that once the story was read, the newspaper would eventually go into a dustbin or be used to clean surfaces, pack food, or wrap shoes. This, he said, would dishonour his fiancé. It would pain him immensely to see her photo in the pages of newspapers that go into scrap, he said.
This was an emotional reaction that I wasn’t prepared for. I tried explaining that photographs of presidents, prime ministers and celebrities are published in the paper daily. But to him, his beloved mattered the most. For me, abiding by his request meant letting go of an exclusive story. Yet, that moment taught the young reporter in me about love, grief, and respect. I left leaving my visiting card with him. Two days later, he had a change of mind. The fact that I held back the story offered some solace to him. The doctor later highlighted safety issues in cosmetic surgery.
In Compassion Fatigue: How The Media Sell Disease, Famine, War And Death, journalist Susan D. Moeller writes, “Suffering that exists somewhere else is a form of entertainment.” Unnatural deaths often become sensational stories. The rise of television news and the race for TRPs has changed journalism in many ways. Often, cameras and microphones are stuffed into the faces of victims of crime and their relatives, without any regard for their state of mind. Journalists have to create boundaries and build their own ethics.
Another time, an old survivor of a gruesome terrorist attack in Delhi lost her cool when the photographer took pictures of her granddaughter, who had been hit by a bullet, post-operation. She cried and shouted at me asking if the photograph would bring back her family members killed in the massacre. I had no answer.
Over the years, I have learnt that experience brings nuance into reporting. Dart Centre’s trauma and journalism guide says there has to be space for care and kindness, however chaotic the circumstances. Journalists are required to go after the truth, but they also need to humanise their approach and writing when dealing with sensitive subjects. The motivation behind every story should be public interest and not agendas. The coverage of every crime is a case in point, and more so in the age of social media where all kinds of information are available.
Editorial bosses can only instruct reporters to be bold and truthful; it is up to each journalist to understand their responsibility in reporting with accuracy, sensitivity, empathy, and respect.
soma.basu@thehindu.co.in
