XCITY (2023) - by City, University of London's Journalism Department

xcity.

For journalists. By journalists

CLIVE MYRIE

White lines and bylines: life at Loaded

Reporting on the run: stories from exile

EDITOR’S LETTER

Journalism isn’t as simple as it used to be. Supposedly, it is about truth telling: reporting the facts, holding institutions to account, giving people a voice. And yet, in 2023, it remains one of the country’s least-trusted professions. Some of that is understandable, some of it isn’t. Statistically speaking, it’s a fact.

So what can we do about it? Well, in that greatest of writing traditions – endure. And by endure, that is to say, keep writing (or broadcasting). Our cover star Clive Myrie told us as much when he described journalism as a noble profession, which, when it delivers on its promise, is true. He is a prime example: a Black reporter who has risen to become one of the BBC’s most renowned correspondents before segueing into a role as a primetime TV host (p. 64). There are plenty more examples to admire: Ellie Flynn’s investigative talents (p. 93), Andrey Zakharov’s relentless reporting in exile (p. 83), and Victoria Derbyshire’s unwavering pursuit of the truth – now on TikTok (p. 46) – are snapshots of journalism not just done well, but right.

City, of course, believes in what journalism can be, too. Its investment in the UK’s frst podcasting MA (p. 4), frst archive dedicated to investigative journalism (p. 21), and AI technology in university (p. 5) are all examples of City’s faith in the power of reporting.

But to endure, journalism must also change. Why, in 2023, is it a profession that remains so inaccessible to those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds (p. 77) and less welcoming to those with learning differences (p. 110 )? Why are journalists from diverse backgrounds either targeted for their identities (p. 116) or pigeonholed into writing about them (p. 90)? These are just some of the obstacles journalism must tackle to regain the public’s trust.

And yet, journalism is always happening. There are always people with stories, even when the cameras aren’t on them. It exists where people endure – from

xcity.

ISSUE 37|2023

EDITOR

Tom Flanagan

DEPUTY EDITOR

Kiran Duggal

ART DIRECTOR

Shauna Brown

DEPUTY ART DIRECTOR

writing in rural India (p. 70) to the extremes of reporting in the Arctic (p. 50) – and even in places where people have otherwise been silenced, such as photojournalists in Ukraine (p. 56) and the reporters banned by Modi (p. 100).

So where do we go from here? This issue of XCity touches on the future of the profession: Chat GPT (p. 33), journalism infuencers (p. 102), New Journalism (p. 73), and writing that doesn’t always ft the mould.

As the next generation of journalists, we’ve spent the year learning about what makes a good journalist: writers as sensitive to the law as they are to their sources, creative as they are comprehensive. And looking through this year’s XCity issue, that’s all there. But beyond simply good journalism, what do we want a journalist to bring to every story?

There’s no one answer, but if this issue is anything to go by, I’d say it would be a little fearlessness. We want the truth, but we want humanity, too. It takes a lot to be vulnerable when you write. You’re leaving behind a piece of yourself. Forever. And yet these stories do just that.

Poet Nayyirah Waheed once wrote, “The thing you are most afraid to write, write that.” Flicking through these pages, I’m glad we did.

Sharnya Rajesh

FEATURES EDITOR

Killian Faith-Kelly

DEPUTY FEATURES EDITORS

Poppy Burton

Alex Berry

NEWS EDITOR

Ella Kipling

DEPUTY NEWS EDITOR

Eoghan O’Donnell

LISTINGS EDITOR

Maira Butt

DEPUTY LISTINGS EDITOR

Megan Geall

PRODUCTION EDITOR

Lucy Sarret

DEPUTY PRODUCTION EDITOR

Ciéra Cree

PICTURES EDITOR

Gaelle Biguenet

DEPUTY PICTURES EDITOR

Amy McArdle

CHIEF SUB-EDITOR

Samantha Fink

DEPUTY SUB-EDITORS

Megan Warren-Lister

Caroline Whiteley

Twitter @xcitymagazine Instagram:@xcitymagazine

XCity magazine writers: Amiya Baratan, Ruby Borg, Dani Clarke, Gabby Colvin, Ella Gauci, Seraphina Kyprios, Tiffany Lai, Nicole Panteloucos, Alex Rigotti, Katie Ross, Nandni Sharma, Dimple Shiv, Caroline Tonks, Daniela Toporek, Alice Wade, Honey Jane Wyatt

Illustrators: Rachel Berman www.rachel-b-art.com, Chloe Dootson-Graube www.chloedootsongraube.com, Maddy Thorp @mads_artsngraphics, Poppy Burton, Gabby Colvin

With special thanks to Malvin Van Gelderen www.idesigntraining.co.uk

If you have any concerns about XCity, please email the Course Leader Ben Falk at: ben.falk@city.ac.uk or write to Ben Falk, Journalism Department, City University, Northampton Square, London EC1V 0HB

MANAGING EDITOR AND ADVERTISING MANAGER

Katie Daly

SOCIAL MEDIA EDITOR

Chloé Williamson

DEPUTY SOCIAL MEDIA EDITORS

Henrietta Taylor

Emily Smith

PUBLISHERS

Jason Bennetto

Ben Falk

Tom Flanagan, Editor

Sandy Warr is leading the revolution at City by running the UK’s frst Podcasting MA

The mics go live

The UK’s frst MA in Podcasting is to launch at City in September along with a Centre of Podcasting Excellence.

Pioneered by Sandy Warr, a multi award-winning broadcaster and fellow of the Radio Academy, the MA will train a new generation of podcasters. Ms Warr is currently in active discussions with a variety of podcast frms about the creation of bursaries and sponsorships that will run parallel to the course.

The MA will also be taught by Emmy awardwinning journalist and City lecturer Fernando Pizarro and podcast producer Mark Sandell from 6Foot6

Productions. Taking on the role of Director of the Centre of Podcasting Excellence will be former BBC and Bauer Media executive, Brett Spencer. The programme aims to tap into a market which lacks trained podcasters.

Ms Warr said: “As much as City Journalism School has this brand-leading reputation, one reason for that is because we keep reinventing ourselves. We keep going: ‘What’s happening in the world?’. We need to be ahead of it as much as possible”

The LBC News presenter recognised the demand for podcasting education within the university three years ago when 140 students signed up for the podcasting elective

the department offered. It became apparent that there was a real desire from students to learn beyond what the elective could teach them.

While this new MA will contain traditional City journalistic skills such as media law and ethics, Ms Warr is committed to changing the standard mould. “What will be unique about it is that it won’t just be journalism. We want to create a much more creative space for people to be more imaginative.”

The programme will include topics ranging from the history of storytelling to media management and even guided meditation to learn about immersive audio experiences. There will be

a heavy focus on branding and audience engagement, something Ms Warr believes is vital in the podcasting industry.

With a predicted 28 million podcast listeners in the UK alone by 2026, the new MA refect’s City’s adaptation to the changing face of journalism more broadly.

The Centre for Podcasting Excellence will run alongside the programme, hosting monthly events, speakers, and short courses about podcasting.

City already has a vast alumni network of podcasters from Dino Sofos to the Atlantic’s Ben Green, but this specialised course hopes to train the next wave of industry experts.

Unlike other MA courses, the Podcasting programme will also be available for students to take part-time. Ms Warr said this will help bring in a more diverse cohort of students.

She said: “It’s partly a refection of the fact that the podcast industry tends to be demographically a bit different from linear broadcasting, newspapers, and magazines. It’s more entrepreneurial, and we’re seeing voices that are not being heard anywhere else fnding a platform because of the very nature of the medium.”

The frst cohort of Podcasting MA students will start in September 2023.

Ella Gauci

Sandy Warr in one of the department’s new podcasting booths

Chat GPT sparks cheating fears

Essays written by ChatGPT have produced some “terrifying” results that could lead to changes to City’s assessments, the head of the journalism department said.

Professor Mel Bunce called AI a “huge game changer”. After becoming aware

of the new technology, she ran some of City’s frst year essay prompts through ChatGPT and got some “very, very good responses”.

Professor Bunce explained that the department has been having “urgent conversations about whether we should change frst-year assessments”.

While AI can be helpful for trawling through large datasets in hospitals, there are “immediate implications” for universities, Professor Bunce said. Lecturers have begun to worry that ChatGPT could be used to write assignments.

“I see it as a tool that massively changes your ability to gather information and present it in an accessible form instantaneously,” she said.

ChatGPT has over one million users and was even put to use in Westminster when Chancellor of the Exchequer Jeremy Hunt used it to write about the economy in January.

For journalists, Professor

Bunce can see AI being helpful for doing “quick background research and getting it into a palatable shape”.

Its ability to pull information together could also be an advantage, as much of a journalist’s work cannot be done by AI.

“So much of what we teach and what’s important to us about adding value to public discourse is about going beyond anything that this could do,” she said.

Discovering new information and insight is at the core of journalism, which is why Professor Bunce feels the department is more prepared for the rise of ChatGPT than other departments..

The debate around the use of the technology in journalism has been ongoing. Sky News put ChatGPT to the test in December when it assisted a reporter in writing an article on itself. Meanwhile, BuzzFeed announced that it would be using AI for quizzes to “enhance” and “personalise” its content.

With Microsoft’s ten billion dollar investment into OpenAI, AI is set to be at the heart of journalism in the future.

Journalism students need business brains

Professor Mel Bunce, head of the journalism department, wants to introduce more entrepreneurial modules to prepare students for careers as freelancers, entrepreneurs and business owners.

The journalism department hopes to partner with Bayes Business School to launch a new “freelance” module.

Professor Bunce said: “The big picture is that we want to teach multimedia modules across pathways, so if a student is interested in something that Financial Journalism or Broadcast does, then they can do that.”

Students will be able to develop their business skills with this new approach, according to Professor Bunce, who wants to introduce innovative concepts like developing news and media products.

Professor Bunce said: “Having the business skills and knowledge to set up as entrepreneurs is crucial in journalism.”

She added: “Alongside traditional skills, we have trained our students for big organisations. Now, many of them are self-employed. They’re becoming transformative thinkers and we want to encourage that.”

Visiting lecturer, Julian Linley, also believes that modules such as the Business of Media, (taught on the Magazine MA), are what gives students the chance to develop their entrepreneurial skills.

Mr Linley works with students while they research, create and develop business ideas for the modern media.

Examples this year include Spark, a dating magazine, and The Changing Room, a platform covering women’s sports. Both were presented to industry experts, allowing students to network while developing their presenting skills.

Mr Linley also encourages students to develop their knowledge of social media such as TikTok and Instagram.”

He said: “Modern media is more of a democracy nowadays. It gives journalists the tools they need to build their brands, outside of traditional publishing.

“It’s important to teach the fundamentals of building a media business to anyone interested in becoming a journalist or creator.”

Chloé Williamson

Ella Kipling

New student space

City’s historic pool becomes social space for journalism students

It used to be the home of toned swimmers thrashing up and down a 30 metre pool, training for the 1908 Olympics. Fast forward 115 years and room AG19 in the College building has become a new social space for journalism students.

Cutting the ribbon at the pool’s opening event on 9 February was City journalism alumna and founding editor of gal-dem Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff, who

was “happy to be back at City”.

“When I was here in 2015, we used to congregate in the corridor because there was no common room,” Brinkhurst-Cuff said. “You didn’t really meet other people from different parts of the building.”

The original pool was the only local public swimming pool between WW1 and WW2. In the 1920s, the roof began to slowly collapse above the swimmers, due to high condensation and rising

chlorine gases.

Once an open air swimming pool, it was subsequently used as an ammunition storage facility - surviving a German bomb in the second world war..

It was eventually forced to close in 1998, when fallen roof glazing led to its demise. Though the university considered investing £500,000 into remedial works, a fre in the building in 2001 dissuaded them.

A swimmer preparing to dive into the Olympic pool in 1898.

Picture credit: City, University of London

makes a splash

By the early 2000s, the pool had become a study area for arts students and temporary home to an overfowing law library.

“We had to be very careful about where we put the bookshelves since there was still a massive hole in the ground,” said Emily Allbon, Associate Professor and former librarian at City.

Most recently, with the “massive hole” buried under the foorboards, the area has been used as a research space for PhD students. And now, rows of compartmentalised desks, booths, and couches offer a quiet working and conferencing space for journalism

students. The old changing rooms for swimmers, however, have been retained and now function as small study spaces.

Like City faculty, Ms Brinkhurst-Cuff sees immense value in a common space for journalism students spending any time in the College Building.

“The people I met on my course have been amazing people to know throughout my time in the industry and extending that to a wider pool of people is really important,” she said.

“The thing about journalism is that you have to learn to pull yourself out of your comfort zone and have uncomfortable conversations with people you don’t

know and starting at university is really good.”

According to City’s Executive Dean, Professor Anna Whitelock, the space will allow students and visiting creatives to “meet, think, and create”.

“We are a community and an inclusive and supportive place for ideas to spark, and connections to be made,” said Professor Whitelock. “We look forward to spoken-word performances, comedy, music as well as even more opportunities to stretch and relax with movement activities such as yoga.”

Samantha Fink

Diving into the new student space.

School of rock

Urdang theatre school merges with university to create new department of performing arts

Slicked-back buns, stage makeup, and glittery costumes have become commonplace among City students after a prestigious performing arts school joined the university this academic year.

The Urdang Academy specialises in musical theatre and is recognised as one of the UK’s best performing arts colleges. It has a strong international reputation thanks to the impressive number of alumni landing roles in leading West End shows like Hamilton, The Lion King, and Wicked

The acquisition is part of an ambitious new strategy to enhance and develop City’s reputation for music and its engagement with the creative industries. As part of the

department of performing arts, Urdang has joined the newly established umbrella school of communication and creativity.

Commenting on the development, City’s President, Professor Sir Anthony Finkelstein, said: “This is an exciting development for City, and we are delighted to welcome Urdang staff and degree students to our family. Our shared ethos and ambition make City and Urdang a powerful combination and provide a strong foundation for the development of the academy.”

Following the initial announcement in Spring 2022, the CEO of Urdang, Solange Urdang said: “The time is right for the Urdang Academy to take the next step

to blossom and grow.”

Students attending Urdang will continue to study from its current base at the Grade II listed building, the Old Finsbury Town Hall, which is home to six spacious dance studios, whilst also benefting from support and facilities in City’s department of music.

Speaking about the transition, student Robynne Evans said that using City’s facilities was “overwhelming” to begin with as a result of having access to so many more practice rooms and additional study space.

“The frst term was a bit chaotic,” said Ms Evans. “[City] was so big and we were all getting lost. Now we’ve settled in, it’s much smoother sailing. Using the practice studios has been very useful.”

As well as the additional facilities, Ms Evans said that joining the University has increased her social circle, and created new opportunities to join other societies and activities.

Merging with the music department will allow Urdang to maintain its founding ethos, whilst beneftting from City’s focus on practice and professionalism.

“I am delighted that City will take on this challenge, especially given the close alignment of our beliefs and values, and the support and development opportunities that City can offer,” said Ms Urdang. “I look forward to seeing Urdang fourish under the City umbrella.”

Megan Geall

Image credit: Seamus Ryan

Directed by Rob Archibald. Choreographed by Christopher Tendai, Musical Direction from Ian Brandon, Set Design by Emily Bestow, Costume Design by Rebuen Speed, Lighting by Devante Benjamin.

Celebrated lecturer retires

Professor Jane Singer, who has taught in City’s journalism department since 2013 and served as director of research, has retired.

Before joining City as Professor of Entrepreneurial Journalism, later changed to Professor of Journalism Innovation, she held teaching positions at the University of Central Lancashire, the University of Iowa, and Colorado State University.

Her impressive career is being recognised this year with the Paul J. Deutschmann Award for Excellence in Research, which honours a body of signifcant research over the course of an individual’s career. The award is given by the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication.

Professor Singer has written and co-written 57 journal articles and two books.

“I am honoured and happy that my explorations of journalistic adaptation to change have proved useful to

other researchers,” she said.

Professor Singer began her career as a print journalist on the East Coast of the US in the 1970s. She then went to work for CBS, which was exploring “this wild, crazy idea of delivering information electronically”.

“When I was in graduate school in the mid-90s, no one else was paying any attention to digital at all,” she said.

This meant that she was in demand as a teacher and researcher when publications such as the BBC and The New York Times were going online.

Professor Singer was the founding news manager of Prodigy, one of the frst national online news services in America. Her friends who worked at newspapers continued to ask her why she left journalism.

“I would say ‘I haven’t left journalism. I’m still in journalism, it’s just a different format,” Professor Singer said. “There would be a pause, and then they would say, ‘But do you miss journalism?’”

This reaction to digital journalism ultimately led to her decision to pursue teaching. She explained: “I thought it might be good to try and get into a university and teach people because younger people would get it.”

After teaching for 17 years in small towns in the US and the UK, it didn’t take “too much convincing” for her to move to City, a university “in the middle of a media capital in a wonderful cosmopolitan city”.

Journalism is one of the best things at City, Professor Singer said, and “it has been for a long time”.

Throughout her tenure, the department has continued to evolve.

“We’re continually innovating in the way that we teach and fnding better ways to connect to students,” she said.

Research also plays a part in the evolution, she added.

The expert in journalism innovation is always thinking about what is coming next in the feld and said that virtual reality is something she is keen to keep an eye on. While museums are using the technology, it’s yet to get a lot

of pickup in news.

“It would be interesting, not necessarily positive. There is potential for an immersive experience to be an unpleasant experience. There are opportunities for journalism to engage people’s senses in different ways, which has led to ethical issues.”

What comes next, Professor Singer explained, could be something “completely different that we haven’t envisioned yet”.

Ella Kipling

Cost crisis could freeze women out of fnance journalism

The head of fnancial journalism at City has expressed her concern for how the worsening economic climate will impact female reporters.

Jane Martinson, the Marjorie Deane Professor of Financial Journalism, a columnist for The Guardian, and an honorary committee member of the Women in Journalism network, fears that the cost-of-living crisis will force female journalists

to turn to extra freelance work or leave the profession altogether.

“It’s always worrying when there is an economic downturn as it’s often women who leave the workforce frst, something we’re conscious of,” she said, speaking about the WiJ network.

“More women leave fulltime employment, not just due to caring responsibilities. It is a lack of confdence, feeling like they need the fexibility or

freedom to be freelance. But then are more likely to be in vulnerable jobs,” Professor Martinson added.

Professor Martinson has stressed that more needs to be done to protect the livelihoods of women in media. According to research by the World Economic Forum, women are more likely to have insecure jobs. Refecting on the success of editors in the past year, she said: “The editors of the Financial Times,

The Wall Street Journal and The Guardian are women, which is great. It’s not been a bad year but we have to be careful that women don’t suffer disproportionately from the economic downturn.”

Professor Martinson has been working on her upcoming book, How to Buy an Island, on the power and fortune of the Barclay brothers.

Katie Daly

Image: Gaelle Biguenet

Hold monarchy to account, says Dean

The media has a responsibility to be more critical of the monarchy, a royal expert at City has claimed.

Anna Whitelock, Professor of the History of Monarchy at City, and the Executive Dean of the School of Communication and Creativity, highlighted the difference between reporting on the monarchy, and on politicians and political parties.

Professor Whitelock said this reporting needs to be more impartial. “So much of the reporting of the monarchy is partial, uncritical and not very well informed.”

The author and broadcaster continued: “This isn’t just about a family. It’s a monarchy that has power and infuence.”

Given the control that the monarchy has, including sovereign power which places the monarch above the law, Professor Whitelock explained that critical reporting “does matter”.

The royals have been the centre of attention this past year, with the death of Queen Elizabeth II, the ascension of King Charles to the throne., the release of Prince Harry’s memoir, Spare, and his Netfix show: Harry & Meghan.

Professor Whitelock said the media’s relationship with the family can be traced to the 1950s when the BBC broadcasted the Coronation of the Queen.

“There was this sense of that relationship with the television companies and, in the sense the BBC, to be one of respect and reverence.”

Speaking about media outlets today, she added: “They want access to the monarchy. They want do the royal broadcast, so they accept the royals’ terms.”

However, Professor Whitelock said that it is vital for journalists to be “informative, questioning, and critical” in their reporting of the royal family in the same way they are with politics.

Professor Whitelock added that events such as royal weddings, appearances, and births are “in a sense, a distraction”.

The general perception of being a royal reporter is that you go on royal tours and attend events, Professor Whitelock explained. But you can also be a “real investigative journalist”.

“I would like to think future journalists see this as an institution that plays a role in our national life, in terms of diplomacy, politics and society,” she said.

Ella Kipling

Remembering Melanie McFadyean

The journalist and former City lecturer Melanie McFadyean has died of cancer aged 72. A campaigner who wrote for a range of magazines and newspapers, she was known for her fearlessness and sense of humour.

She taught at City from 2001 to 2015, running the Investigative MA and later taught on the Magazine MA.

Sebastian Payne, a columnist at The Times, tweeted: “I was fortunate enough to be taught by Melanie at City University. She was the most wonderful teacher and inspiration a budding journalist could ask for – I’ll never forget her withering look at my

silly errors and inability to know what a story is.”

Adrian Monck, former head of the journalism department, described Melanie as “a devoted and much-loved teacher”.

Matters of social justice, and the plight of refugees and asylum seekers, were burning issues for her. The publications she wrote for included the Sunday Times, the Daily Telegraph, the Bureau of Investigative Journalism, Cosmopolitan, and Marie Claire. She was an agony aunt, with a column ‘Dear Melanie’ in Just Seventeen magazine from its launch in 1983 until 1986.

Strikes set to continue

Strikes by lecturers and staff at City and 149 other universities are set to run into the summer after a stalemate over negotiations. The long-running dispute continues for multiple reasons including pensions, pay, and workload.

Members of the University And College Union (UCU) are being reballoted, which could lead to more disruption in the coming months, unless a deal can be reached.

The Universities & Colleges Employers Association (UCEA) is offering a pay rise of at least fve per cent and a review of the pension scheme. The UCU’s decisionmaking committee, however, voted not to put the offer to members and continue the industrial action.

An evaluation in March 2020 of the Universities Superannuation Scheme Limited (USS) resulted in a series of pension cuts for academics, due to market crash during the Covid-19 pandemic. These cuts meant that the average member would lose 35 per cent from their guaranteed future retirement income. However, it was reported in November 2022 that USS had a surplus of £5.6bn, sparking further outrage.

Staff pay has fallen by over 25 per cent over the last 10 years, with many academics on short-term or zero-hours contracts. Additionally, University employees have not had a pay increase that matches infation for 13 years.

Another complaint from strikers is over pay inequality. Women, people of colour, and those with disabilities are being paid signifcantly less than their white, male counterparts.

They also claim that the staff workload has been overwhelming due to increased student enrolment. Keith Simpson, president of City’s UCU, said: “I have seen our workload increase year after year after year.”

Mr Simpson said due to this increasing pressure, many have taken leave for stress-related illnesses or have been forced to go part-time to cope with mounting workloads.

Dr Lauren McCarthy, Bayes Business School lecturer, added: “I’m striking because I believe we have a fantastic university system in the UK and I’m worried if it continues this way, it’ll become a privatised and privileged industry. Higher education should be accessible for as many people as possible.”

MA Journalism student Katie Ross said: “I support the strikes as it is important that lecturers have pension security and a wage that refects their work. However,

it is frustrating when students are missing the education they’ve paid so much for.”

Mr Simpson urged students who want to show their support to complain to the university over their loss of education. He claimed that staff conditions have worsened since he joined the university in 1997, impacting staff ability to offer pastoral support to students.

Anthony Finkelstein, the president of City, said: “Staff investment is by far the largest area of our spending. On top of pay, City contributes the equivalent of 21.6 per cent of each employee’s salary to their pension pot each month.

“It is reasonable to ask why we are unable to meet the demands of the unions,” he added. “Put simply, we do not have the ability to do so because tuition fees set by the Government have been frozen for several years. Meanwhile, our costs are rapidly increasing.”

Alice Wade and Lucy Sarret

Cheapskate wins innovation

Kate Samuelson (MA Magazine, 2015), won the Georgina Henry Award that rewards storytelling and innovation for her company Cheapskate, a free newsletter informing subscribers of the free London-based events each week.

The award by the Women in Journalism organisation highlights the achievements of women in a male-centric industry. With a cash prize of £4,000, Cheapskate plans on expanding its subscriber base through

digital marketing.

Ms Samuelson, who has recently been made Editor in Chief at slow journalism newsletter The Know, said: “It was amazing to win. We’ve been doing this for three years with full-time jobs, and it’s incredibly rewarding. There are thousands more Londoners who would beneft from us, we just want to put the word out there.”

Lucy Sarret

Lauren McCarthy

King hears East Side Voices

ACity visiting lecturer was part of the reception at Buckingham Palace to celebrate and recognise British East and Southeast Asian (ESEA) communities.

Helena Lee (MA Magazine, 2011), Features Director at Harper’s Bazaar and editor of East Side Voices, met King Charles and Queen Consort Camilla, and later commented that media representation of ESEA communities is “massively important” .

The inaugural reception, which fell during the Lunar New Year in February, welcomed guests in the community from all industries including healthcare, business, government, and fashion. Other attendees included Chinese-Irish designers John and Simone Rocha, Chinese-English model Alexa Chung, and Japanese-British actor Will Sharpe (The White Lotus). May Parsons, the Filipino nurse who helped administer the frst Pfzer coronavirus vaccine in the UK, was also present.

Ms Lee said: “It was a meaningful event for many communities who feel overlooked. It was also an important recognition for those from these communities who have worked hard to get where they are.”

Last year, King Charles (then Prince Charles) and Camilla walked around Chinatown in London to boost the morale of the ESEA community, who suffered increased racial abuse during the pandemic. The prince also attended a roundtable meeting about the impact of

hate crimes on the community.

According to recent National Hate Crime statistics released by the Home Offce, hate crimes increased by 26 per cent in the year ending in March 2022. Of 156, 000 hate crimes recorded, 47,000 targeted Asian communities.

“I spoke directly with Charles at Buckingham Palace. He’s a good listener and is interested. I reminded him that we had met exactly a year before at the roundtable for hate crime, and he was surprised that it had been a full year,” Ms Lee said.

“When I was growing up, I never saw anyone who was British-Asian, or British South or Southeast Asian,” Ms Lee added. “Being an object of mockery is historically how Asians and Southeast Asians have been represented in media and culture.”

In the UK, 50 per cent of South Asian women report that they rarely, or never, see people from their ethnic group in advertisements, according to research from UM media agency.

“The work and experiences of ESEA communities in the UK are as valid as anyone else’s,” Ms Lee said. “Representation is massively important.

“Change in attitudes towards communities can be a slow process. However, if a change is getting on people’s radars and people are being heard, then it’s all the better for it.”

Ms Lee created East Side Voices in early 2020, a literary salon that “aims to increase the number of voices in the

media, flm, in the arts, and literature by bringing to the fore stories that illuminate what it is to be ESEA”. The salon’s mission is to dispel clichés, change cultural narratives around ESEA, and unite the community. Ms Lee edited an anthology of essays and poetry under the same name, published in January 2022. Speaking on the representation of ESEA communities in the media, Ms Lee said: “It’s hugely important that there is an understanding of the issues of the nuances and textures of different communities that make up our society.”

Eoghan O’Donnell

PPA win for Mag grad

Magazine alumna Sarah Green won the 2022 PPA Student Journalist of the Year award, the 14th time out of the last 15 years a student from the City course has triumphed. Ms Green’s winning portfolio included an investigation into US adoption fraud. The 5,000-word piece – which started as Ms Green’s fnal project –was published by ELLE

The judges described Ms Green as a “true editorial talent” and somebody who “tackles serious topics with tenacity, maturity, confdence and real heart”. Ms Green said: “I moved across the world to pursue my MA at City. Being recognised reminded me of how far I’ve come and how far I have yet to go.”

Ian Jones

£6,000 bursary launched in honour of Times journalist

A£6,000 bursary will be available in September 2023 for a young foreign reporter studying on MA International Journalism (MAIJ) at City.

The bursary is launched in memory of foreign correspondent and foreign editor of The Times, Richard Beeston.

The Richard Beeston Bursary Trust was established in 2014 after the journalist’s untimely death from cancer. With the help of James Harding among others, Beeston’s widow, Natasha Fairweather, founded the bursary in an effort to assist talented young journalists pursuing careers in foreign news. The recipient may also have the opportunity to do work experience at The Times.

Ms Fairweather said: “I am happy that we are partnering with City University to provide this award in memory of my husband. The Richard Beeston Bursary Trust has provided a springboard for a number of young journalists who have gone on to work for the Financial Times, The Guardian and The Washington Post

“We are looking for a candidate who strives for journalistic excellence and can also demonstrate fnancial need,” Ms Fairweather added.

As well as its an annual award for the MAIJ programme, the Richard Beeston Trust will also award a £6,000 bursary

to young foreign correspondents at a later stage of their career. This additional bursary will offer the chance to spend six weeks abroad reporting on a foreign news story in collaboration with The Times. Applicants must have two years of journalism experience and be under 30 at the time of the closing date. Recent City alumni would be ideal candidates for this opportunity to pursue an international story of their choice.

“There are two main benefts to the MAIJ bursary,” Ms Fairweather reiterated. “It will allow the winning students time to develop their skills within an established institution, as well as providing work experience opportunities at The Times.”

Suzanne Franks, professor and funding

organiser at City, expressed gratitude towards Mr Beeston’s family for providing City students with the opportunity. “I am delighted that the Richard Beeston Trust is offering this generous support, intended to help a young upcoming journalist at City. We are very grateful to all the trustees,” she said.

The bursary is open to any international student accepted onto the MAIJ course for the coming academic year.

The deadline is 1 May 2023 and applications should be submitted to richardbeestonbursary@gmail.com. Candidates can visit richardbeestonbursary.com for more details.

Broadcast clean sweep at BJTC awards

At the Broadcast Journalism Training Council (BJTC) Awards in November 2022, MA Broadcast and Television Journalism students were nominated in six categories and won in each one.

Of the 14 listed categories, there were: Best TV News Report, Best TV Documentary, Best Social Short Video, Best Podcast, Best Radio Newsday, and the Derek Dowsett Award.

The latter, one of the highest honours of the night, recognises stories focusing on social inclusion within television journalism. It was won by students Olivia Andrews and Hanna Schnitzer for their report “Rotherhithe residents march to save ‘local hero’ from deportation”. This

came with a £1000 prize and a week of work experience with ITV News. The other projects nominated for this award were also created by City students.

“I was so incredibly proud of the students, and it was so lovely for so many of them to get the recognition that the work they’re producing is of such a high standard,” said Sally Webb, head of the MA Broadcast and Television courses. “I always tell the students that were shortlisted but didn’t win: ‘You’re all winners because even to get short-listed is such a prestigious honour.’ For those who do win, it’s just the icing on the cake.”

The BJTC Awards showcases works produced by graduates from

distinguished journalism courses around the UK. These works are in TV, radio, digital, podcast, and social media content.

“I always get tearful with pride because I am so passionate about my students,” Professor Webb added. “I couldn’t be more proud of what they go on to achieve, not only on the course and the work that they produce, but also when they go into the industry.”

The BJTC is a stepping stone for winners, displaying their work to leading media companies across the UK and the world for potential job opportunities in the industry.

Caroline Tonks

Seraphina Kyprios and Ciéra Cree

Richard Beeston in Kabul

NEW STAFF AT NEW STAFF AT

Megan Geall, Alice Wade, Eoghan O’Donnell and Sharnya Rajesh

Belinda Goldsmith

Belinda Goldsmith, global media director of Save the Children, has joined the journalism department as a visiting lecturer this year.

The former Editor-in-Chief of the Thomson Reuters Foundation is teaching the Humanitarian Specialism, which covers topics including reporting on international aid, the protection of children and vulnerable adults, and disaster reporting.

Ms Goldsmith said: “With a record number of people globally in need of humanitarian assistance, there has never been a more important time to train journalists on how to get the stories of vulnerable communities into the headlines.

“It is great to see City recognising this need and providing a course for people interested in humanitarian journalism or working in the aid sector.”

Kat Lister

An experienced freelance writer and author joined the journalism department this year to teach the Arts and Culture Specialism.

Kat Lister writes for multiple publications including The Guardian, The Independent and Vogue. She studied English at university before starting a job in PR that she did ‘very badly’ for a year and a half before deciding to pursue her dream of writing.

She specialised frst in music journalism, spending much of her 20s writing for NME. Since then, Ms Lister has published her memoir The Elements which explores grief and widowhood.

Alongside teaching at City, Ms Lister now writes for arts and culture sections. She said: “I was a little nervous before I started the module but I couldn’t have asked for a more passionate and engaged group of students. Not only have I enjoyed teaching these classes, they’ve reminded me of all the reasons why I got into this profession in the frst place. It’s been an absolute joy.”

Anna Batchelor

CITY CITY

Rhianna Dhillon

A BBC flm critic and podcast host is the new tutor for City’s Film, TV, Video and Radio Specialism course.

Rhianna Dhillon, flm critic on BBC Radio5Live and host of The PodPod podcast, said: “I have enjoyed the challenge of making the course interactive. Teaching at City has given me the frsthand opportunity to see young women want to come up and talk about flms, which is awesome.”

Determined to make her class participative and the closest real life experience to being a flm critic, Ms Dhillon has gone to great lengths to bring in diverse guest lecturers, including a BAFTA-winning flm director and a podcast commissioner.

Ms Dhillon joked that her career “peaked at its very beginning” when she became the in-house flm critic for Radio 1 before she graduated from the University of Reading.

Lara Whyte

Fourteen years after graduating, City alumna Lara Whyte has returned to the journalism department as a lecturer. Lara Whyte joined City this year to teach TV and production to broadcast journalism students.

She graduated from City’s broadcast journalism course in 2008 and has worked across a range of television, broadcast, and print journalism since, including as a producer at ITN Productions. Her book, Freedom Fighter, written alongside Joanna Palani, focuses on the story of Ms Palani’s personal war against ISIS on the frontlines in Syria.

Ms Whyte advised young journalists, “Be respectful and empathetic and treat people like they’re real people. Experiment with your own technical capacity. Technical skills can be learned, so don’t be intimidated by other mediums.”

FOI investigator wins top award

Investigative journalist Jenna Corderoy had success at this year’s prestigious British Journalism Awards, bringing home the prize for Campaign of the Year.

The City alumnus and visiting lecturer was honoured in recognition of her work for openDemocracy, an independent media platform reporting on British public life, with the aim of holding power to account. The outlet described the achievement as “the biggest

prize of [their] 21 year history.”

Ms Corderoy spent months on a team investigating Freedom of Information (FOI) censorship, involving journalists, researchers and members of the public being denied their right to information by public bodies; shining a light on the corrupt machinations of government secrecy.

Asurprise appearance by former prime minister David Cameron put City journalism students’ interviewing skills to the test. After a visit shrouded in secrecy, the politician admitted that the questions he faced were “quite challenging”.

Mr Cameron spoke to the students about the nature of the relationship between politicians and the media on the same day that Isabel Oakeshott leaked Matt Hancock’s ministerial WhatsApp messages.

Professor Barney Jones, lecturer at City and former Editor of the Andrew Marr Show, organised the event. Right until the last minute, the political guest remained anonymous as a security precaution. Audience members were shocked to uncover his identity upon their arrival at the free event.

Professor Jones said: “David Cameron speaks publicly rarely nowadays and he was very generous in giving up an evening to come to City’s journalism department.”

When Professor Jones previously

Question time with David Cameron

organised political interviews at the BBC, he met Mr Cameron many times. At a social event before Christmas, the lecturer asked the former prime minister if he would join the long list of politicians who have come to City and spoken to its journalism students.

Professor Jones said: “I was a bit surprised when he readily agreed. And even more surprised when his offce swiftly fxed a date!”

Students took the opportunity to question him on major points of presentday politics and Mr Cameron’s time in offce. Students also asked considered questions about his economic record and

the decisions made during his premiership, covering topics such as climate change, Putin, the UK’s relationship with China, and of course, Brexit.

Mr Cameron answered every tricky question that came his way, providing students with a great opportunity to practice their interview techniques against a high-profle politician.

Before he left City’s campus, he said: “I enjoyed speaking to the journalism students. They’re a bright group - really engaged and quite challenging in their questions.”

According to House of Commons records, Boris Johnson was paid £250,000 for speaking to bankers last November and Theresa May was paid £100,000 for speaking to fnanciers in Switzerland. While Mr Cameron is likely capable of commanding similar sums, his only request during his visit to City was a bottle of still water.

The former Prime Minister is currently fulflling a role at New York University Abu Dhabi, teaching a course entitled Practicing Politics and Government in the Age of Disruption.

Amy McArdle

Ciéra Cree

David Cameron with Barney Jones

Jenna Corderoy and Ramzy Alwakeel at the British Journalism Awards 2022

ASV Photography Ltd for Press

Adam Tinworth

Your needsCityyou!

Anetworking group for journalism alumni and former staff is being set up to help disadvantaged students become journalists.

The Friends of the Journalism Department will connect former students and staff and help raise funds Professor Lis Howell

The co-founders of the new group are City teaching legends Dr Barbara Rowlands and Professor Lis Howell.

Dr Rowlands, MA magazine journalism course director from 1999-2018 said: “It’s a fantastic networking opportunity for journalists who normally wouldn’t meet.”

Professor Howell, the Director of Broadcasting from 2009 to 2018 and Head of Postgraduate Studies from 2016 to 2018 added: “We are also looking for former contacts of the department to provide support for potential students who may not be the obvious candidates in the school.”

Dr Rowlands said: “We’re well aware journalism and newsrooms need more diversity. Whether ethnic, minority, BAME, LGBTQ+. We want to help people who might not have the money to come to City otherwise.”

In a 2021 report from nongovernmental lobbying organisation The World Economic Forum reported that “a diverse newsroom is essential for media institutions that pride themselves on providing well-researched, complex stories that explore different perspectives and voices”.

Both said the Friends of Journalism Department would be an “enormous

Five wins for alumni at Press Awards

The UK Press Awards was a successful night for City, with alumni collecting fve awards and three high commendations.

resource, particularly for former staff”. It will reconnect people who once taught at the university or were students.

“It would be great to get former staff back in touch and involved with the department,” Professor Howell said.

The frst move is getting in touch with former staff members stretching back “as far as we can go”, who are a repository of information about journalism alumni, said Dr Rowlands.

They will be invited to City in the autumn for a celebratory lunch and a guided tour of the department. “We believe there is enthusiasm for a project like this among our former colleagues,” Dr Rowlands said.

City has a powerful alumni spread across print, digital and broadcast media in the UK and overseas. At a meeting with the head of the department, Professor Mel Bunce, it was agreed that a similar tour and event for student alumni in 2024 to network and raise money for bursaries would be arranged.

“They are loyal to the department and understand that journalism needs more diversity in the newsroom,” Dr Rowlands said. “City has helped many people in their careers, and we hope people will want to give back.”

Recent graduate Shayma Bakht (MA Broadcast, 2020) won Young Journalist of the Year, while Isaan Khan (MA Investigative, 2019) took home the award for Sports Journalist of the Year.

Other winners included Megan Agnew (MA Magazine, 2018) who won News Feature Writer of the Year, Ian Birell (PG Diploma, 1986) who won Feature Writer of the Year, and Joremo Starkey (PG Diploma, 2004) who won News Editor of the Year

Adding to her winning streak, Pippa Crerar (MA Newspaper, 2000) picked up the prize for Political Journalist of the Year.

Ella Kipling

The same report showed that “journalists are more likely to come from households where a parent works/ worked in a higher-level occupation”, one of the key determinants of social class in the UK. Additionally, 80 per cent of journalists had a parent in one of the three highest occupational groups, compared to 42 per cent of all UK workers.

Junior journalists in the UK also appear to be less diverse than their more senior editors, according to NCTJ fndings. There is also an increase in the proportion of people in journalism coming from the highest social classes, with 75 per cent in 2020 to 80 per cent in 2021.

“This combination results in a narrow viewpoint of the world, and we need to widen it out to give different stories in different ways,” Dr Rowlands said.

Eoghan O’Donnell

Journalism courses rank frst in 2023

City has come top for journalism in The Guardian’s 2023 UK university rankings.

The university scored 100/100 in The Guardian’s rating of excellence – an aggregate score across nine factors that include student satisfaction and postgraduate employment – beating other journalism heavyweights like Cardiff, Oxford Brookes, and Sheffeld.

Professor Mel Bunce, head of journalism at City, said: “It was wonderful for so many reasons. I think we have always been well-known for and successful at producing

journalists that go on to run the industry.

“People that work in journalism know how superb City journalism is, but it hasn’t always broken beyond that to those outside of the industry.”

It is the frst time City has been ranked number one for undergraduate journalism in The Guardian’s league table. City has risen 26 places on last year’s ranking which previously grouped subjects such as publishing and PR alongside journalism.

The Guardian ranking differs from other major league tables by prioritising factors like student satisfaction and

job prospects over traditional metrics like academic research.

Professor Bunce said the employment factor is one reason she is so happy to see City at the top of the league table in particular.

“A lot of our students are the frst in their family to go to university and come from a variety of ethnic and religious backgrounds,” she said. “It’s really special with that type of cohort in particular when you help them secure jobs that they may not have otherwise been able to.”

The Guardian accolade follows recognition by other major university guides, such

as The Sunday Times University Guide 2022 and The Complete University Guide 2023, which ranked City’s communications and media department as number one in the country.

Tom Flanagan

Lecturer exposes slave trade links

A series of investigations into UK public fgures with ancestral links to the slave trade have been headed up by City lecturer Dr Paul Lashmar alongside journalist Jonathan Smith.

In an article published 4 February 2023 in The Observer, Dr Lashmar and Mr Smith spoke with members of the Trevelyan family. The family discussed their journey to the Caribbean, where they publicly apologised on behalf of their ancestors for owning over 1000 African slaves in the mid-1700s.

The Trevelyans are not the frst well-known name Dr Lashmar and Mr Smith have reported on regarding ancestral involvement in the slave trade.

In November 2022, the duo wrote a piece on Conservative MP Richard Drax, who they discovered was still legally the owner of a plantation in Barbados.

When speaking about the impact of publishing the Drax exposé, Dr Lashmar, the former head of City’s journalism department, said: “What’s been most interesting

is that when I’m talking to people who perhaps are not aware of what I do, when the name Drax comes up they go, ‘Oh is that the man who owns the slave plantation?’ And you think, actually I’ve had an impact.”

Dr Lashmar said the story has garnered a number of responses from both sides of the political spectrum.

He explained: “You’ve got the liberal tendency, people who are trying to work out the families who have had a history in slavery, those who feel they should do something.

“On the other side are those who, perhaps represented by Richard Drax, have been very reluctant to even talk about it, let alone commit to any action that would be considered to be reconciliation or reparation.”

Dr Lashmar said his investigative work into the slave trade is far from over. He is in the process of publishing a book on the Drax family.

Emily Smith

Image: Dr Paul Lashmar

Students shun Health and Science module

Acourse covering health, science, and environmental reporting was suspended this year after less than two per cent of students chose the module.

This is the frst time the Health and Science specialism has not run due to lack of interest, provoking disappointment among staff and students.

Dr Mark Honigsbaum, a senior lecturer who leads the course, was surprised: “We’ve just lived through a pandemic and everyone’s talking about climate change. There couldn’t be more of a moment for understanding science.”

He added: “It could be that we didn’t do a good enough job of explaining what you study, and maybe we need to do a better job of selling it to postgraduates.”

Dr Honigsbaum said there were also

perceptions of science as being too diffcult: “Students think it will be harder than some of the other specialisms.”

City offers 13 short courses as part of its specialisms offering, including popular modules such as Lifestyle, Arts and Culture, and Investigative. The Health and Science specialism has run for seven years. The department intends to run it next year, providing enough students choose it.

Jason Bennetto, director of specialisms, said: “It was very disappointing not to be able to run the Health and Science module this year, but with only three MA journalism students out of 160 putting it as their frst choice, it was not tenable.

“I’m surprised so few students wanted to study the topics of health and the environment, given that climate change

New creatives in residence

Musicians, actors and spoken word poets are among the artists that will join forces with City’s journalism department this year as part of a new Creatives in Residence scheme aimed at championing different creative felds.

Pioneered by Professor Anna Whitelock, Dean of the School of Communication and Creativity, the scheme will provide a space for early career creatives to explore their craft whilst working alongside City students. The scheme will involve a six-month residency programme in which creative practitioners will work on their own projects, hold masterclasses for students, and provide mentoring.

The frst creatives chosen for this project include singer-songwriter Joseph Bell, multidisciplinarian Darcy Dixon, and spoken word artist Chloe Carterr.

Inclusivity and diversity are at the forefront of the project, and Professor Whitelock hopes that the calibre of these creatives will refect City’s enduring mission to amplify a vast range of voices within the arts.

“The Creatives in Residence scheme

is part of the school’s evolving strategy to engage with creative practitioners and create an inclusive community within and beyond the school,” she explained.

Interdisciplinary projects run by the creatives themselves will be instrumental in achieving these goals. Students will partake in songwriting classes, mentoring on freelancing, and clowning workshops.

Projects like these offer a unique opportunity for students to explore new creative felds.

“I hope the students learn creativity beyond that which we currently offer in the School and that the scheme allows students to learn from those already in the world of work,” said Professor Whitelock.

The scheme will offer the creatives access to performance spaces and studios on campus as well as the opportunity to hold events or exhibitions at Finsbury Town Hall. Professor Whitelock hopes the scheme will become a permanent fxture in the department if this cohort of creatives does well.

Ella Gauci

and Covid are the two biggest stories on the planet.”

Dr Honigsbaum felt that burnout may also have played a part: “For students whose whole education was disrupted [by the Covid-19 pandemic], it was probably too overwhelming, and it was maybe a case of, ‘The last thing I want to do is study it even more.’” Yasmeen Eltahan, a Broadcast student who was one of the three to choose the module, said: “I was excited to start the Health and Science specialism and felt really gutted when told that it was cancelled.”

She continued: “I really wanted to do more health, particularly mental health journalism but will now have to do that outside of the university.”

Maira Butt

Darcy Dixon [top], Joseph Bell [bottom]

Melissa Schriek

Harassment evidence falls on deaf ears, says lecturer

Evidence that two in fve female journalists in Africa face harassment at work is “too often dismissed by bosses”, according to a senior journalism lecturer at City.

A recent study by by WAN-IFRA Women in News found that 40 per cent of women worldwide face verbal or physical sexual harassment in the media workplace. A workshop was held by the African Women in Media association at its annual event in Fes, Morocco in December, based on research conducted by City’s Dr Lindsey Blumell and Dinfn Mulupi. They investigated the prevalence of sexual harassment in the media industry over the last fve years, and suggested measures for companies to help eradicate harassment.

“What we found is most times organisations will either dismiss the report or they will just give a warning,” said Dr Blumell.

Sexual harrassment policies currently in place in African countries have proved to be ineffective.

“The point of this workshop is to enable newsrooms to implement better policies, and actually act on them,”

Dr Blumell explained. The report also found that one in two female media professionals in Africa face sexual harassment in the workplace and under a third of sexual harassment cases are reported to management.

The workshop focused on best practice guidelines for defning sexual harassment, the procedures of the complaint process, and the handling. The fnal part is monitoring and adjusting the policy based on needs.

As part of her ongoing research, Dr Blumell will follow up with the organisations to see whether new policies or changes have been implemented.

“They basically have to change the hierarchies of newsrooms and change how things work to hold people accountable,” said Dr Blumell. “It’s a slow process, but if it were easy then we would have been able to eradicate sexual harassment overnight. #MeToo would have addressed it.

“We’re challenging the core ideas of gender and society, shifting the culture, and attitudes. That takes a lot of education, training and time.”

Kiran Duggal

Political journos in hot seat

A special journalism version of the BBC’s famous Question Time was held at City and called on some distinguished political journalists and reporters.

City alumni Pippa Crerar (political editor at The Guardian and MA Newspaper graduate), Faisal Islam (economics editor at BBC News and MA Newspaper graduate), and Katy Balls (political editor at The Spectator and MA Magazine Journalism graduate) returned to the department.

Chris Mason, another former City student, was posed to dash from BBC Studios to host the panel but was unable to make it to the event. Fortunately, Professor Barney Jones, who leads the Political Headlines module and previously worked as the editor of The Andrew Marr Show, stepped in.

Speaking about her experience returning to City, Ms Balls said: “It’s always nice to come back and see the next year of students.”

John Nicolson MP, a journalist-turned-politician who previously worked for the BBC and ITV as a political broadcast journalist, served as the fourth guest on the panel.

Journalism head, Professor Mel Bunce said: “One of the biggest privileges of teaching at City is knowing that your students will go on to make a difference in the world, and that could not be better illustrated than our panel for this inaugural Question Time event.

“The work that Pippa, Faisal, and Katy do holds politicians to account,” she said. “It has helped topple governments, and informs and infuences how audiences think about the world.”

Ella Kipling

Students with Pippa Crerar [centre]

(1) Speaker at the event (2) Dr Lindsey Blumell (3) Fes, Morocco

Dr Lindsey Blumell

UK’s frst journalism archive set for City

David Bawden from the information science department. Working with them is Emma Markiewicz, director of the LMA, and Laurence Ward, head of digital services.

The Journalist Archive Project (JAP) will work closely with the LMA to establish the best practices for creating and maintaining an archive of journalists’ materials, and making them readily available to the public.

Dr Glenda Cooper, the deputy head of City’s journalism department, has spent signifcant time researching and accessing archives in the US. She said: “Archiving journalists personal papers is taken seriously in the US – we would like City to take the lead doing something similar in this country.” Dr Cooper added that she would like any alumni who have a potential archive to get in touch for this project.

Anew project between City and the London Metropolitan Archives (LMA) attempts to create a repository of archives collected by journalists during their careers and make them publicly available.

City’s Higher Education and Innovation Fund (HEIF) is funding a pilot study looking at the archiving practices of investigative journalists. In the UK, some journalists’ personal archives are contained in various libraries and archives, but there is no central repository. The few personal archives that do exist are spread across libraries and archives, making the information diffcult to fnd.

The archive of Dr Paul Lashmar, a City lecturer and investigative journalist who has worked for The Observer, World in Action, The Independent, and Channel 4’s Dispatches, will participate in the pilot. He said: “Archives of investigative journalists often have rich material – they contain documents of historical value not available elsewhere in the public domain.

“Such a repository would be of great value to historians, political scientists, media academics, lawyers, and those looking into miscarriages of justice.”

The City team consists of Dr Lashmar and Dr Glenda Cooper from the journalism department and Professor

The JAP is an important step towards preserving the history of journalism and making it accessible for generations to come. As the project moves forward, the team will continue to encourage more journalists to contribute to this resource.

Ruby Borg

BAFTA nominee plays City alum

Newspaper pathway graduate, Esme Wren, is under Hollywood’s spotlight for a Netfix flm following her crucial role in uncovering the scandalous friendship between Prince Andrew and convicted felon Jeffrey Epstein.

Wren will be played by Romola Garai (Becoming Elizabeth). Fran Unsworth, who was the Director of News and Current Affairs at the BBC at the time, will be played by fellow BAFTA nominee Lia Williams.

SCOOP will delve into the events leading up to the 2019 exposé which also centred around Prince Andrew’s alleged assault of a minor. An adaptation of Sam McAlister’s book Scoops: Behind the Scenes of the BBC’s Most Shocking Interviews, this flm features a star cast with Sex Education fan favourites Gillian Anderson and Connor Swindells, as well as Billie Piper as McAlister and Rufus Sewell as the prince.

Wren moved from the BBC to Channel 4 News shortly after the shocking interview aired and has been with them ever since.

The flm currently has no offcial release date. Tudum!

Amiya Baratan and Dimple Shiv

Dr Glenda Cooper

Ben Hunte Q&A

Why did you get into journalism in the frst place?

I was a YouTuber and I wanted to do something that made my voice more legitimate. I enjoyed that I was able to expose things, champion causes, and stand up for human rights. But I felt like people weren’t taking me very seriously. The vibe was always to do something within LGBTQ+ or human rights journalism and I just wanted to continue that on YouTube, but for a bigger audience. So, I decided to start looking at options for getting into journalism.

What do you most hope to achieve in your career?

I think I’ve achieved it to be honest. I have hit the peak of what I set out to do. It’s quite weird to say but I challenge governments, I’ve held people to account, I’ve made people feel good about their sexualities and their gender identities, and I’ve travelled the world. I left the BBC because I wanted to expose more and investigate more, and Vice gave me the opportunity to do that.

Can you talk about the negatives of being a journalist?

I’ve defnitely been caught off guard by how toxic and scary, and at times, unrewarding journalism can be. Within the human rights space, I’ve spoken to other journalists who agree that there are certain things that we weren’t prepared for. There’s a lot of jealousy within journalism. Journalism is incredibly competitive and there are only a few entry routes into certain newsrooms every year and it means some of the people who you start with (who are your closest friends), almost become your enemies – because you all want the same opportunities.

It can be quite a learning experience, because you want to speak to people about how tired you are, how stressed you are, how scared you are, but you have to do it with the knowledge that you got an opportunity that other people

wanted, and that can be very diffcult. All these years later, I know that a lot of my friends in journalism do fnd it quite lonely. It can be challenging because you’re expected to be really grateful for very diffcult, lowpaid, and challenging shifts. Sometimes it’s diffcult to be grateful because you can’t pay your rent and you can’t afford lunch, and you’ve pulled an all-nighter working for a newsroom where people don’t even remember your name.

“Exclusive: this terrible thing has happened,” and someone will respond to me saying: “Hi! I just saw you in CostCo!” I think: ‘What!?’

Have you ever experienced racism, microaggressions or homophobia in your career?

All of the above! During my frst few months as a journalist, I interned for a lot of newsrooms and in that time I probably closed my eyes to a lot more negativity than I should have done. I would hope that if I went back into those situations now, I’d be able to call it out.

I do think there’s been a change in certain UK newsrooms – or I hope that there has been – but I’ve encountered homophobia, racism, and ageism. I was told that I wasn’t old enough to be a reporter; to be a correspondent; to be on BBC News at Ten Classism is an issue too. They told me I didn’t sound good enough to be on the Radio 4 Today programme, and I’d get emails from people telling me they didn’t like my accent.

What is the funniest (or rudest) piece of feedback you’ve had on your work?

When people slide into my DMs and tell me I’m sexy – I fnd it funny because usually it’s around the most inappropriate, deep, and dark stories. I also fnd it funny when people see me out and about and then message me, or take a sly photo of me. There have been occasions when people have done it and I’ve just released a story and I’ll go on Twitter like

One thing that I will say is that I’ve not changed myself when it comes to my principles since becoming a correspondent. I’ve worked with incredible people who have helped me to stay true to myself, which is amazing. I’m so grateful to my mentors for supporting me in that, because I know that some people don’t have the same opportunities that I do - to investigate what they want to, or travel to the countries that they want to, or to hold governments to account in the way that I have.

If you were back at City, what would you do differently?

I would turn up to lectures. I probably had the worst attendance on record and looking back now I feel like I missed out on the opportunity to network more with the people on the course, and get advice from lecturers.

“I’ve encountered homophobia, racism, and ageism”

Henrietta Taylor speaks to the Vice World News LGBTQ correspondent about telling human rights stories, and the “toxic and scary” side of the profession

Image credit: BBC

#Journorequests

the good, the bad and the downright weird

With looming deadlines, we often turn to that fated Twitter hashtag: #journorequest. Sometimes, the questions are purely functional; other times, they’re self-serving, niche, and downright odd. Katie Daly compiles some of our favourites

We wanna get LOADED we

GOOD TIME

“The only time the police came into the offce was to buy the magazine,” insists former Loaded editor James Brown. “I remember two offcers walking in and saying: ‘Hide your dope! We’ve come to buy a copy.’”

It was the mid-Nineties and the Loaded offces “stank of skunk”. The magazine’s young and controversial editor had deliberately created a subculture in which prep for an editorial meeting meant racking up lines of cocaine or rolling a blunt. But the illicit habits of Loaded’s staff weren’t just fodder for the gossip columns – they were the secret behind their success. The publication’s outrageous, gonzo-style journalism allowed readers to vicariously experience their

debauched lifestyle. It proved so wildly popular that even the local coppers were willing to turn a blind eye.

showed young men as they really were –even when “they should know better,” as the magazine’s strapline once claimed. “It was showing men as they hadn’t been represented in a publication before,” says Brown. Drinking, clubbing, smoking – and occasionally snorting.

“The reason we were able to get away with it was because we were hugely successful,” says Brown. The frst issue sold nearly 60,000 copies, and by the third, the publication was already turning a proft.

Brown attributes Loaded’s popularity to its honest and authentic representation of male youth culture. While other magazines suggested a squeaky clean image, Loaded

“People of my generation looked at life like something to be grabbed and messed around with. You didn’t take the safe road,” adds Piers Hernu, former editor of rival publication Front magazine. “We were more concerned with having fun and being hedonistic and doing what we liked rather than what was legal.” This is not surprising from a man once arrested for smuggling gold into Nepal, in an incident so infamous it was later documented in an episode of Banged up

It’s been 30 years since the launch of iconic men’s magazine, Loaded. Shauna Brown and Nicole Panteloucos look back on E’s, wizz, and the mag biz with former editor James Brown

wanna have a

“My era of Loaded was like being in the Mondays or the Stones”

James Brown

Abroad

Of course, Loaded was not the only magazine where illicit behaviour was rife. In his early days as a staff writer at NME, Brown recalls that amphetamines were quite prevalent (he was once “so f***ed on speed” that he was forced to dictate an article to a colleague, who then wrote it for him).

they shamelessly documented their drugfueled escapades for entertainment. Thinlyveiled attempts to code these anecdotes with street slang were mediocre at best, and gossip columns were rampant with rumours of staff moving drugs around the city via bike service.

which had a knock-on effect for the music, nightlife, and magazines of the era. Modern day youth culture publications like VICE and Dazed are still trying to replicate the provocative personality of publications like Loaded and Front through frst person anecdotes of sex, drugs, and club toilet encounters . But it was a zeitgeist that cannot be recreated – and perhaps for the best.

“They were [dealing],” he says. “Though I had no knowledge or interest in whether they were using the bike service – it certainly wasn’t allowed.” However, it was one story in particular about Brown and another writer “chopping up cocaine” in the middle of a river that prompted intervention from their publisher. “That’s when they panicked,” he says. “The next day we removed all the drugs from the offce.”

Publications such as The Guardian have criticised Loaded’s editorial practices, and while the magazine’s overt sexism would be called out today, Brown’s tenure represented a different time – where ladism was a winning formula. “My era of Loaded was like being in the Mondays or the Stones,” he says. “The only difference is we weren’t going on stage and playing music. We were going into an offce and creating a magazine.”

After making his start in the industry as a music writer, Brown sought to emulate the excessive lifestyle of Nineties bands, many of whom were as glorifed for their misbehaviour as their sound. “I felt that if we had a lot of drugs around us too, it would be good fun,” he says. “So I deliberately appointed somebody to the staff who I knew was a small-time drug dealer. We just had coke in the offce every day.”

But while their antics were entertaining for the masses (and proftable for their publisher), it was simply not sustainable. It was in 1997, when Brown left Loaded to become editor of GQ, that the severity of his substance abuse became impossible to conceal. “There were incidents that happened that made it clear that I had a big problem,” he admits. One such moment was when Brown placed a bucket of his own vomit in the writers’ room.

“Younger people of today’s generation are less likely to be embracing hedonism and more likely to be cautious about ‘well what happens if I wake up with a hangover’ and ‘am I going to die if we take this pill?’” says Hernu. Brown – who documented his editorial escapades in his 2022 memoir, Animal House – agrees that the moment has passed, claiming he would not be able to launch a magazine like Loaded today. But even after years of sobriety, he still takes pride in its chaotic legacy.

“We were just having fun, we weren’t hurting anybody,” he says. “It was a f***ing great rock and roll time.” Still, when the party’s over, no one wants to be the last one out the door.

Substance abuse pervaded other areas of journalism, too

While music journalists in the Nineties rode the wave of MDMA, the party culture associated with the fashion industry was also a hotbed for addiction.

“There was sort of an offce speed dealer, who also dealt to people like The Fall and The Pogues,” he says. Within a year of him joining the magazine, the arrival of ecstasy had an unprecedented impact on the British music scene, including NME. “Ecstasy changed how many people were using drugs, and it almost replaced alcohol as what you wanted for a night out,” says Brown. “It f***ed a couple of people up.”

While substance abuse was a part of the wider culture at NME and many other magazines, Brown intentionally introduced it into the writer’s room at Loaded, where

“A responsible person or someone who didn’t have a drink or drug addiction wouldn’t have been throwing up in the afternoon,” he says. What had become normalised behaviour for Brown within the confnes of Loaded – where even company lawyers cracked jokes about employees’ coke habits – was concerning enough for Condé Nast to refer Brown to therapy.

“My mum had died of an overdose and I was self-medicating with alcohol and drugs. I do regret how I spoke to staff at times. I was really young and mercurial,” he says, refecting on his tenure as editor.

Against the backdrop of the British rave scene, it’s really no wonder Brown was able to disguise his addiction for as long as he did. The cultural shift of the early Nineties was fueled by the emergence of new drugs,

“You can hide in plain sight if you’ve got a problem,” says Melanie Rickey, current digital editor of Sphere Magazine and founding editor of Grazia. “I worked in fashion media in the late Nineties. I was in quite a glamorous, hedonistic world of parties, events, and shows. There’s often free bars and you’re given more alcohol than food. I can’t blame the industry, but at the end of the day, it enabled a lot of people.”

One of the things about addiction is it’s a progressive illness,” she says. “So what was once fun when you’re in your twenties, and a little bit naughty in your thirties, by the time you get to your early forties, it’s not a good look. I really knew I had to do something about it when it was no longer fun and it just felt embarrassing.”

“We just had coke in the ofce, every day”

“It was a f***ing great rock and roll time”

Image credit: Martyn Goodacre

Who you gonna call?

Samantha Fink and Nicole Panteloucos meet the unsung authors behind the bestsellers

Prince Harry’s infamous memoir Spare reminds us of something many publishing houses would like us to forget: just because you have a story doesn’t mean you’re the best person to tell it. With ghostwriter J.R. Moehringer’s million-dollar commission for Spare splashed across headlines, what was once the publishing industry’s “dirty little secret” is now frmly in the spotlight.

Matt Whyman, who has published twenty novels of his own, was frst inspired to pursue ghostwriting after reading an athlete’s memoir to his young son. “I gave it to him for his birthday and while reading it, I realised it was just terrible,” he says. “I thought, ‘I can do better than that.’ I felt like I’d given my son a poor, totally uninspiring book.”

Now as a seasoned ghostwriter, Whyman takes on somewhat of a public relations role with his ghost clients. He cites reporters chasing the woman to whom Prince Harry lost his virginity. After celebrity memoirs come out, journalists often dig around, hoping to reveal more than the book does. As such, Whyman encourages his clients to be as transparent as possible to avoid pushback from the press. “There’s always going to be a consequence,” Whyman says.

“When it’s my project, I have a responsibility to [my client] to say, ‘This is how it’s going to be perceived.’ I have to know where the bodies are buried.”

Well-known ghostwriter Andrew Crofts

reveals that he frst got into the profession after writing several books for a wealthy businessman. “I was interviewing him for a magazine and he told me he had been commissioned to write a series of books but didn’t have time,” says Crofts. “He asked me to write them for him, which I did.” Since then, Crofts has ghostwritten a dozen Sunday Times number one bestsellers, some of them for victims of forced marriages, sex workers, orphans, and survivors of war.

“It’s a great chance to really get deep into someone’s life and someone’s world – someone who is well known and has made their mark but isn’t a writer,” adds Whyman. “My job is to come in with that skill, but equally, I know nothing about them. So I have to understand their world and what makes them tick. The responsibility is huge.”

challenges. According to Storr, ghostwriters are last on the publishing pecking order, and the job can feel like being an intern. “Nobody thinks about you very much,” he says. When a book he ghosted was shortlisted for a National Book Award, he wasn’t even told.

While clients naturally try to sell the best version of themselves in what Whyman refers to as “the varnish story that you’ve probably read a million times in the newspapers,” it’s up to the ghostwriter to pull out the hidden gems in their clients’ stories to deliver a compelling narrative. Echoing this sentiment, writer Will Storr says, “I wish more people had the humility to employ ghostwriters. I think books in general would get a lot better.”

The intimate process of obtaining stories from clients often requires ghostwriters to behave like therapists. “I [had a meeting] with someone based in Hollywood, and on our fourth Zoom, they said, ‘I’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on therapy, and this is the best session I’ve ever had,’” Whyman recalls. In his view, this is because a ghostwriter has no agenda. Rather than trying to ‘heal’ their client, they help them make sense of their own life.

Hearing a celebrity word-vomit their life story may sound like a dream to some, but the job comes with its own unique set of

Timelines can be tricky as well. Ghostwriters may have as little as just a few months to turn a book around to make sure it stays relevant. In other cases, like one Storr is working on at the moment, an 18-month project can end up taking four years. “Occasionally I can have several [books] on but at different points in a cycle,” Whyman says. “So when I was debating taking on three at one point, my agent said to me, ‘If you screw this up, you’ll never work again.’ And she’s right. There’s a huge amount of faith placed in a ghostwriter to deliver to expectation.”

The expectations placed on ghostwriters can also eclipse their own creativity. In 2022, The Guardian published a piece about children’s book authors who write original stories themselves—but then paste hungry-for-fame celebrities’ names on them for the extra income they’ll amass. While a big name on the front cover means more money for ghostwriters, they are often paid signifcantly less than the celebrities they write for.

“A children’s book author should be able to be famous on their own terms and not have to just give their stories over,” says

Chloe Dootsen-Graube

“It’s a great chance to really get deep into someone’s life and someone’s world”

Ghostwriters!

Storr. “When talented writers are basically just having to give over their creativity to a celebrity, I think that’s a disgrace.”

In other cases, however, the dynamic between ghostwriter and celebrity is a mutually benefcial relationship.

“I’ve ghosted several books that have been number one,” says Whyman. “If I’d written that book, it probably wouldn’t have even broken into the top ten thousand. So that person is doing you a service too, by promoting it, by being the face that everyone wants to hear from—so in that way it’s a collaborative effort to make the book a success.”

job. “Together, we create something that’s [their own],” he says. “I’m happy for people when the book is embraced and they’re proud of it. When that person is promoting the book and talking about it as if it’s theirs, that’s a job well done.”

With so much work being put into a book only to remain anonymous, some may think that being a ghostwriter could brew jealousy or resentment. “Sometimes you see reviews that say, ‘Wow this person is so lyrical and has a great future as a writer,’” Whyman laughs. “If you don’t admit you had a ghost, you’re sort of doing a deal with the devil.”

Still, neither Whyman nor Storr are naive – they know what they’re getting into and don’t let their ego show up in the process.

“Sometimes it can feel deeply unfair, if that person is saying that they wrote it and they haven’t done a single word. They may say things like, ‘It was a labour of love,’ or ‘I wrote every word,’” says Whyman. “You could eat yourself up about it but at the end of the day, it’s not worth it. If you think you’re going to get your ego wrapped up in it, it’s probably not the type of writing you want to do.”

In fact, Whyman knows that if his clients are out happily promoting the book he’s written and feeling ownership over it, then he’s done his

“If you don’t admit, you had a ghost, you’re sort of doing a deal with the devil”

Critics reveal their inner movie character

“As a lifelong fan of the James Bond flms, my frst instinct would be to choose 007. But in truth, I don’t think his life would be an enjoyable one. Despite all the travelling to glamorous locations, cocktails, gadgets and Aston Martins, he lives a solitary existence working as a blunt instrument for the government, and those that get close to him usually end up dead,” says Tom Butler, senior editor at Yahoo Entertainment. “So, I choose Q - Bond’s quartermaster - who spends his time tinkering with gadgets in his bunker, inventing ludicrous inventions with a limitless supply of hot drinks - he’s much more in tune with how I’d like to live my life.”

Rhianna Dhillon, freelance flm critic and presenter at BAFTA, would be Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. “She goes on an amazing journey of self-discovery which involves learning how intelligent she is and how she can use her skills to help others in need. I admire how resilient she is, I fnd her inclusive and principled feminist attitude inspiring and most importantly, I wish I had her wardrobe.”

Farah Naz: “This man loves the idea of a glamourous, stimulating life with no ties, parties, shiny objects, but in reality, he prefers constancy, doing fun things through creativity, and appreciates the comforts of the ordinary. He distrusts authority and sometimes may have a tendency to hide away. He chooses to be the brains rather than the brawn and so is less concerned with ego or machismo. He is not too bothered with saving the planet and standing up for what is right, as he is cynical of his capacity to have an effect.”

Farah Naz: “This woman has a growth mindset, is a feminist who is concerned less with ego and more with helping others showing immense empathy. She is practical, honest, idealistic, optimistic, psychologically secure, resilient and driven by change for the better of all. She also sees the best in others, but is not afraid to speak her mind when she sees the need. She appreciates and values essence rather than materialistic outward appearance. She also choses style over being cool or sexy.”

Gaelle Biguenet asks film buffs which character they wish they were. Psychotherapist Farah Naz sheds light on what their answers reveal about their personalities

David Jenkins, editor at Little White Lies, says: “I think it would have to be Detective Gino Felino. I know it’s very déclassé to choose Seagal now that he’s come out as a vile Putinist shill, but his character in this action caper is very cool. Monosyllabic, wears a ponytail, and seems to be able to dispatch with an army of goons with the minimum of fuss and energy.”

Farah Naz: “This man values justice but cares less about how he achieves it! He also values external image and a traditional idea of what a man should be: uncommunicative, macho, cool and simplistic. He has black and white thinking, can be idealistic, and doesn’t always see the grey and complex in life. At his worst he may struggle in relationships where he is not put on a pedestal and at his best he is a fghter for what is right and just.”

Mike Muncer, founder of hit podcast The Evolution of Horror, fantasies of being Superman’s Clarke Kent: “He’s got a successful career in journalism, wears a great suit, works with great colleagues and rocks a pair of awesome glasses. Plus, in his spare time, he fies, uses x-ray vision and can move faster than any speeding bullet. So... there’s also that.”

Farah Naz: “This man shows psychological balance, strong empathy, idealism, a strong moral compass with a focus on duty and fairness. There is also a dual persona, he can move between how he sees himself – sometimes he sees himself as an ordinary man, and at others as someone who can achieve anything! He might also struggle with knowing his limitations and thinking everything is accomplishable. He is optimistic and will take on every problem no matter the cost! At his best he has a can-do anything attitude. At his worst he will struggle when things seem to be out of his control.”

“I should probably choose Wonder Woman or something but that sounds like an awful lot of work, and not the kind of work I like,” says Rosie Fletcher, UK editor at Den of Geek. “Instead my hero is Amy Archer, the journalist and ‘fast talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys’ from the Coen Brothers’ warmest movie, The Hudsucker Proxy. She’s a trailblazer, a news hound with a Pulitzer, and she’s not afraid to admit she’s wrong. Plus Jennifer Jason Leigh is perfect, Muncie girl or not…”

“Sure, [Samwise Gamgee from The Lord of the Rings] has to walk halfway across the world without any shoes on and carry his slowly dying best mate up a fery mountain,” says Alex Flood, commissioning editor at NME “But when he’s done, the movies’ most famous gardener is treated like a hero and gets to potter about in the fowerbeds for the rest of his days. Dreamy.”

“Most answers that frst occurred to me had some drawbacks. For example Jude Law’s Dickie Greenleaf in The Talented Mr Ripley has a great set-up until he’s bludgeoned to death with an oar. But then I turned to the queen of wish-fulflment, kitchen-catalogue cinema: Nancy Meyers,” says Max Copeman, sub editor at Radio Times. “Just about every character in her flms has an impossibly beautiful life, but Amanda has it all: a fun job making movie trailers, a multi-million-dollar property in the Hollywood hills, friendships with Kate Winslet and Jack Black— and a happily-ever-after ending. I think I could live that life quite happily.”

Farah Naz: “This woman’s choice refects an internal confict about what she thinks a woman should be and what she can be. She asks herself if she should be selfessly saving the world, putting things right, or choosing something that is more about suiting her personal, free, preference. At her best, this woman is relaxed, unafraid to challenge, not occupied with perfection or what people think about her and comfortable in her own skin. At her worst she may at times be self-obsessed and lazy!”

Farah Naz: “This choice refects someone who values the simple things in life: friendship, loyalty, and nature. He has a secure attachment style and is very comfortable in his skin. He is not so worried about how he appears to the world, even if he has hairy feet, and more interested in the people and things he loves. He is not driven by being in the limelight or shiny shoes and doesn’t lack the courage to do the right thing.”

Farah Naz: “This [man] shows a predilection for external beauty and a focus on how things look rather than how they feel and what they might mean. [He] might have issues with commitment, a sense of fulflment and looking at a deeper meaning to life. [He] chooses materialism and hedonism over and above any other values and so [he] is not a person we would trust or even get to know easily. Such a person hides a true self possibly from themselves and defnitely from others. [He] may struggle with the realities of life and possibly have a low stress threshold. At [his] best, he will be fun to be with.”

Illustrations by Chloe Dootson-Graube

There’s a new journo in town. Their name? ChatGPT

But, is a robot writer going to threaten journalists’ jobs?

Ruby Borg puts the bot to the test

Write an article about Kanye West’s street style for GQ.

Kanye West is a true fashion icon, known not only for his music but also for his bold and innovative style. Over the years, the rapper has developed a unique fashion sense that incorporates elements of streetwear, high fashion, and even futuristic styles. His fashion choices are often unpredictable and daring, and have earned him a reputation as one of the most stylish men in the entertainment industry.

Write me a match report of Manchester City versus RB Leipzig on 14 March 2023 for FourFourTwo

I’m sorry, but as an AI language model, I am not able to predict future events. My training only goes up until September 2021, so I do not have any knowledge of events or matches that will happen after that date.

Write me an article about the rise of NFTs for the Financial Times

What a revewlation! Who would have thought that Kanye West is known for his fashion sense as well as his music?

But thanks for pointing out that Kanye is one of the most stylish men in the entertainment industry. Never heard that one before.

This is very… the dog ate my homework. It’s not a future event, but nice try.

As a journalist, you should aim to comment on current (and past…) events. Do some research and give this

One of the most notable aspects of NFTs is their ability to create a sense of exclusivity and scarcity in the digital world.

By creating a unique digital asset, artists and collectors can diferentiate themselves from the rest of the online world, and establish a level of prestige and value that was previously unattainable.

Can you write me a headline for an article in the style of Caitlin Moran’s column in the Times about plastic surgery.

Plastic Surgery: An Exploration of Personal Choice and Societal Pressure

This doesn’t fit the brief and comes across as lazy. It just copied the previous headline. Be more creative! Can you attempt some wit, maybe?

Well, I think it’s safe to say that tech is your forté, unsurprisingly.

Write me an article in the style of Dolly Alderton’s column in the Sunday Times, with advice for a frst date?

Remember, frst dates can be nerve-wracking, but they’re also a lot of fun. Keep an open mind, be yourself, and don’t forget to have a good time. With a little bit of efort and some good conversation, you’ll be sure to make a lasting impression on your frst date.

This advice is a bit generic. I expected something a bit more riveting than “make some good conversation”.

Write me an article about ChatGPT in the style of WIRED.

But what really sets ChatGPT apart is its ability to learn and adapt to new information over time. Unlike traditional chatbots, which are programmed with a fxed set of responses, ChatGPT can draw on a vast database of language and knowledge to provide accurate and relevant answers to a wide range of questions.

A great start on your personal essay. Important to note that it should probably be in first person. Writing in third person about yourself seems a bit pretentious. Please try giving this another go.

Putting politics in focus

Amy McArdle speaks to the photojournalists behind this year’s biggest political pictures

Politics over the past year has been tumultuous to say the least, and photojournalism has captured these moments in a way words can’t. Four photographers who have snapped some of the most infuential moments from the past year tell the story behind the pictures, and what it takes to create a powerful political image.

Hannah McKay, Reuters

A feeting picture for a feeting Prime Minister. Hannah McKay recalls arriving in Downing Street at 6am to capture this image. She needed to secure her place to capture Boris Johnson leaving as well as Liz Truss arriving. “I had to be in position from before Boris left,” she says, explaining the struggle with the hordes of national and international media. The world’s eyes wrestled behind the media cordon on Downing Street to try to capture something different that

illustrated the moment. “It’s diffcult to take a unique picture of the situation because it’s such a controlled environment,” she explains.

Most pictures from that day presented Truss at the podium, smiling, waving, but McKay caught something entirely different. “I got lucky with a split second where Truss had turned to the door before it opened,” she remembers. “You can photograph them without showing their face, the foundations were all there with this image.” The image captures Truss’ hairstyle and provides a metaphor of her time at Number 10: recognisable, but not entirely memorable – in the door, and out again, with little to show for it.

Ernesto Benavides, Agence France- Presse

Over the past six months, Peru’s protests against the Peruvian Government have become more violent. Ernesto Benavides, an international photographer for AFP, took this image in January this

Matias Delacroix. Associated Press

year as violence resumed in the capital of Lima, after President Pedro Castillo was ousted in December. “It portrays people fghting for their rights, the government isn’t doing right, I thought there must be a way of showing what’s happening,” he explains.

Benavides explains that he has recently been forced to confront dangerous scenarios as a photographer. He recalls the scene behind this image: “Rocks were fying through the sky, and tear gas bombs. It made me aware of my safety.” Benavides has become accustomed to wearing a bulletproof vest, gas mask, and helmet, but the importance of safety was made brutally clear

itself to fnding alternative ways of capturing events. He recalls a particularly symbolic image that he snapped. “I saw this guy with the hat and the fag, and the line of police puppeteers of the government. It portrays the confict in a minimalistic way that’s not too in your face; just right.”

Stefan Rousseau, Press Association

as he found himself in between protestors and police moments after this image was taken. “I got shot by pellets from the police, and hit by rocks from the protestors,” he says, resulting in a brief stint in hospital.

“The Peruvian media were lying a lot, and progovernment. The people were aware they were not doing right by them,” he explains. This widespread distrust of the media made it diffcult for him to work, and Benavides regularly needs to convince those around him of his benevolence. “I am constantly threatened and harassed, people try to steal my camera,” he says.

Benavides’ background in editorial photography lends

On the plane back from India, Stefan Rousseau was invited into a huddle of journalists surrrounding Boris Johnson, as he relayed the top lines from his meeting with President Modi. While the journalists listened intently, their pens scribbling furiously as Johnson held court, Rousseau snapped away. “They are hanging on every word it seems, and Boris is doing his classic gesticulation,” Rousseau recalls. “He is really in his element there, at the centre of everything.” The photography captures Johnson’s charisma and power, and Rousseau was delighted with the image. “The way they are all gathered around him with their dictaphones and notebooks – it’s really good”.

Rousseau has been photographing prime ministers since Tony Blair. Unsurprisingly, Johnson was his favourite. “He is unpredictable, you have to keep your eye on him at all times,” he says. Johnson makes for some striking images: “Politicians are so cautious now since Ed Miliband and the bacon sandwich moment. That was considered a disaster. They are very guarded

Stephan Rousseau, Press Association

“Rocks were fying through the sky, and tear gas bombs”

which makes our job diffcult but [Boris] broke the mould. So that was fun whilst it lasted,” he laughs.

Transforming the monotonous work of politicians into a dynamic image takes real skill. “On the face of it, my job is pretty dull. I’m photographing people in suits standing around talking to other men and women in suits,” Rosseau says. Bringing out the excitement from the more mundane moments in politics is all part of the job.

At the centre of this image is Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who represents a vastly different vision for Brazil to his opposition Jair Bolsonaro. The nation was engrossed in the vengeful rivalry between these two politicians. But this election was not about Lula and his spell in jail, or his opponent’s allegations of corruption. It is clear through this image, the election was about the people of Latin America’s political awakening and mobilisation.

There was a lot of pressure this day to get the shot, and personal emotions also contributed to the sense of necessity. “This time was not only about Brazil. It meant a huge political transformation for the continent, and, of course, that meant strong emotions for the person behind the lens,’’ Delacroix explains.

It is well known Johnson endeavours to emulate Winston Churchill, and the Renaissance painting style composition of Rosseau’s Boris photo certainly contributes to this illusion. Rousseau received praise from many Indian journalists for the picture, who commented on the comparative lack of access to their own head of state. “They hoped Modi would see this picture and learn from it,” he explains.

Matias Delacroix, Associated Press

Brazil: home to one of the most hotly anticipated elections of the past year. This photo taken by Matias Delacroix exudes the emotion and vibrancy of politics in this nation. Delacroix highlights the cultural and political importance of the street pictured – Avenida Paulista in São Paulo – which has served as a national meeting point for decades.

The streets were packed with Lula supporters, and there was great excitement. But the question of how to capture such vibrancy was a dilemma for Delacroix. Unable to move through the celebratory crowds, he looked for other options. “That’s when I decided to use a drone.”

Despite drones being forbidden in such a location, he decided the opportunity was too good. “I couldn’t allow myself to miss the euphoria of the moment,” he explains.

If the pressure of manoeuvring this machine over the busy streets – avoiding electricity cables and street lights – wasn’t enough, he also became increasingly aware of police becoming agitated by the drone. “I did it as fast as I could, and from the moment I saw the results, I knew I had the photo I wanted.”

Usually in his work, Delacroix focuses on capturing a unique and creative angle on an event. However, in this case it was all about the logistics – the crowd spoke for themselves. “I try to transmit that spark and energy in every frame. In Brazil the colours and energy are already there without me. I am just needed to feel and transmit it,” he says.

“I love fnding new ways to transform those ‘boring’ assignments into innovative pieces. And those images will stay forever intact.”

Ernesto Benavides, AFP

“It meant a huge political transformation for the continent”

The sultan of shorthand

180-words-perminute with Richard Ward. By Eoghan O’Donnell

Richard Ward, City’s long-standing Teeline lecturer, can do a cartwheel with no hands, and is a certifed Astrologist and tarot reader. And a palmist. And a Reiki master. And he’s written a manual for Microsoft Windows 3.1

When he’s not peering into the future or self-healing with energy, most mornings, Ward, 57, can be spotted in Northampton Square’s Tait Building. He is distinguishable from other staff members by the colourful hand-knitted jumpers he adorns and, of course, his leather satchel bursting with reams of paper. For some, Ward is their frst introduction to lectures in the journalism school. For others, he’s a complete mystery, the director of an optional class dedicated to nearly illegible hieroglyphics.

Ward has trained thousands in the craft of shorthand and has taught at City for about a decade. Alongside teaching at City and London College of Fashion, Ward provides personal assistants and other admin workers the skills necessary to keep up with speech verbatim. So far he’s mastered Pitman 2000, Pitman New Era, Teeline, Stenography, and “a little bit of Gregg”. The Northerner can reach speeds of up to 180-words-per-minute (WPM) in Pitman. While the necessity of shorthand is increasingly called into question by journalists, Ward has always found it useful - and interesting.

“When you’re transcribing this recording back, you’ll wish you’d have taken notes in shorthand,” Ward says to me as we speak about the relevance of the craft. For reference, I’ve paused and rewound the interview with Ward about 60 times, making sure I’ve heard everything correctly. “With shorthand, you can quickly take notes, even if just for important parts, and keep going. It decreases transcription time,” he adds. Interview transcription is a tedious process. With Teeline you’re able to take accurate notes of fast speakers in real time – something transcription softwares like Otter cannot do.

He frst forayed into the world of rapid writing systems as a student aged 14 at Wingfeld Comprehensive School in Rotherham. “I got hooked on writing this children’s story – a novel, and initially learned to type on a piece of paper from there.” Getting his ideas down directly on paper was what inspired him to

take up shorthand. He was then granted special permission to attend evening classes at Rotherham Technical College. “I was with a group of about 10 others in my frst evening class, and was the only male. Most attendees were working women.”

Ward was forced to develop resilience at an early age. His father died of cancer when he was 10 years old, and he worked full-time while attending evening classes to get his O Levels: “Initially, most money I earned went to supporting my mother.” Their relationship remains strong – Ward has wardrobes bursting with colourful jumpers knitted for him by her.

A role as a personal assistant saw Ward make the move to London. All throughout his early years, he would attend the Incorporated Phonographic Society, the oldest shorthand society in the world, where he sustained his shorthand skills. He was also president of the society for 10 years. A mercurial manager in his frst role inspired a career change, and Ward moved into IT, working for Arup – renowned for building the Millenium “Wobbly” Bridge – as well as the Australian Opera House. “Over time, I got more involved in teaching and even wrote a manual for Windows 3.1. I completed a degree in IT too, all paid for by the company.”

“After 14 years of IT support, I thought it was time for a change as it was no longer challenging enough. The perfect role as a shorthand tutor for Pitman Training became available. I had to learn Teeline over a weekend, and I did.”

After working for Pitman Training for about four years, he went freelance. Now he tutors across universities and other institutions and trains privately.

Without dedication, shorthand is a complex craft that is notoriously hard to master. Ward explains: “Anybody can learn, but you need to have dedication, and you need to practice. I

understand it can be a laborious process, but you need to learn to appreciate the system and make it work for you.” However, it is easier said than done, and many students drop the subject each year when it becomes too much. “Those that persevere through the hard sessions come out on top.”

Ward is the exemplar of reaping what you sow. Putting effort into something good brings positive results. This year, after 16 years together, Ward is fnally marrying his partner Stephen. Everyone’s on tenterhooks waiting to see if the wedding papers will be signed in shorthand.

“I can do a cartwheel with no hands”

On a gloomy February morning, journalist Eloise Hendy went into overdraft. She was frustrated – for over two years, she had been steadily picking up work as a freelance writer, but while waiting on several of her invoices to be paid, her landlord had increased her rent. Later that day she scrolled through Twitter, fnding a job advertisement for a Columnist Assistant role at the New York Times advertised with a salary of $75,000 (£62,000).

Hendy posted a screenshot of the job advert to Twitter with the caption: “Sob laugh in British”, racking up thousands of likes and kickstarting a heated discussion among journalists in the UK and across the pond. “I just moved back to the UK from NYC and can’t get over how bad wages are here,” one commenter wrote.

When Natasha Wynarczyk started out in journalism 11 years ago, her frst job at a women’s fashion magazine paid less than the London Living Wage. The exposure of entering the feld at a prestigious publication can’t make up for lost earnings, she says. “If you start on a low salary, there’s every likelihood you’re going to be constantly lowballed throughout your career when it comes to salaries.”

For freelancers, things aren’t looking any better. Recently, Wynarczyk saw a day of shift work at The Sun advertised for £120 – the same amount she received when she freelanced for them in 2017. According to archived rates published by the National Union of Journalists (NUJ), Elle paid £375 for a 1000-word feature in 1998, the equivalent of £744 today. In 2020, a freelancer received £200 for a feature of the same length. In 2005, Esquire paid £400(£647 today) for a print feature, while in 2020 the highest published fee for a feature of similar length at the same publication was £300.

Editorial budgets have undoubtedly declined over the past decade, but in the aftermath of the pandemic and a looming recession, the sector has become even more fnancially challenged, causing several media businesses to cut jobs in 2022. At the

is up with our salaries

Journalists don’t get paid like they used to. How bad is it, and where can you go to earn big bucks? Caroline Whiteley investigates

same time, few outlets have adjusted their contributor fees with infation.

“The fees in journalism are right at the bottom of the pile,” says Thea de Gallier, a former music journalist turned full-time copywriter. Money wasn’t why she got into it, “but when you’re begging for scraps, getting 100 quid for a feature that might have taken a week to write feels so demoralising. With such a low pay rate and the fact that barely anyone pays on time, you feel like you’re doing work for absolutely nothing.”

Inevitably, this increases journalism’s class divide, with recent fgures from the NCTJ confrming that people in the industry are almost twice as likely as the general population to come from advantaged backgrounds.

the Financial Times, who wished to remain anonymous. “We don’t have to reach a huge audience to be proftable – that’s a pretty unique position compared to most publications who have to put content behind a paywall.”

Last year, the Financial Times offered to relocate her to New York, where she was shocked to learn the salaries of some of her peers. “People here get money that I didn’t even know was possible for journalists to be paid. You would struggle to fnd a staff member at a US paper who is on less than $120,000.”

Wynarczyk, who represents the National Union of Journalists at Reach plc in London, says the company’s expansion into the US has revealed salaries that weren’t previously available for employees in the UK. “For example, a reporter’s salary was advertised for $70,000 (£57,764), which is not what it would be in the UK.”

In her nine-year journalism career, de Gallier worked her way up from specialist music magazines to eventually landing a job at the BBC, where she stayed for three years. “Meanwhile, some of my peers went straight into commercial copywriting, where 350 quid a day is the lowest anyone will even get out of bed for.”

One of the problems is the oversaturation of the digital publishing industry, says Michele Lavery, publisher of The Knowledge, a daily news round- up. “There’s more places for content, but people pay less to have it,” she says. Having worked in Fleet Street for over 30 years, she sees new opportunities for journalists to monetise their work in innovative ways, through direct creator-toaudience subscription models. The key to survival? Building a strong digital strategy.

“The FT has a unique and good position in the UK in the sense that our customers are really rich and our corporate subscriptions are high,” says a New York-based editor at

In August, Reach employees went on strike to demand higher wages to cope with the rising cost of living. “There were people on like £15,000 or £16,000 who were using food banks, and we managed to get some of them pay rises of up to 44 per cent,” says Wynarczyk.

While the gap could’ve been closed after the industrial action last autumn, Wynarczyk thinks it’s probably because “there’s a high chance female journalists were already more likely to be the lowest-paid”.

Low pay is also not conducive to producing high-quality work that readers are willing to pay for. “If you start cutting journalists’ pay and amalgamating more things into their role, they’re not going to have time to do hard-hitting investigations,” says Wynarczyk.

She believes work-to-rule, as an industrial action, could be particularly effective, where people are expected to work on stories out of hours and break news that might happen later in the day.

“You’re doing an important, highly- skilled job. It’s a public service and there is money in it,” says the FT staffer. “The CEO is a millionaire! When you start to think about it that way, it’s like, why shouldn’t journalists be paid more?”

“The CEO is a millionaire, so why shouldn’t journalists be paid more?”

hen Ateh Jewel began her journalism career in 2001, there were five shades of foundation. “And the darkest colour was Beyonce. I would say, ‘Please can I write about curls and coils and Afro textured hair?’ and they’d say, ‘No, it’s not luxurious, it’s not aspirational.’ People would openly say, ‘Black doesn’t sell.’ Just racist, in your face nonsense.”

The changing face W

Jewel went freelance aged 24. “I knew I’d never be made a beauty director, I had a big West African body and I have darker skin. I knew my face would never fit,” she says. “I call it work horse and show pony. I was always good enough to do the work, but I was never good enough to be front-of-house representing so I just twirled away and did my own thing.”

As it turns out, her own thing is writing for Vogue, Sunday Times Style, The Financial Times, and The Guardian. She’s had a column in Marie Claire and written for Holly Willoughby’s wellness platform Wylde Moon She is also writing her first book – Curls and Coils: The Ultimate Guide to Loving Your Hair

“I literally spent my entire career just writing for everybody to prove a point, not only to other people, but to myself that I was enough, because I always felt I was on the outside of beauty journalism looking in.” She continues, “You can be

That’s what true discrimination is.”

And the figures support the feelings. According to a 2021 study by LSE, Black journalists accounted for just 0.2 per cent of the industry, compared with the then 3 per cent of the population.

Only in the last three years has Jewel seen Black representation within beauty journalism really change. “I do think postBlack Lives Matter the whole world shifted and people can now see all these invisible barriers that they didn’t see before.”

Irene Shelley, editor in chief of Black Beauty and Hair, agrees that palpable change has only occurred within the last three years of her 36-year career. “I think it’s only since the Black Lives Matter protests that people woke up to the fact that there was a Black, mostly female audience that consumed beauty and hair [content] like their European counterparts,” she says.

“Before that, if I was doing just general article, or even a roundup of new product launches, I would struggle to find pictures of Black women promoting those brands, it just didn’t happen, so a lot of the time I’d have to miss it out or work around it,” says Shelley. “Because there’s nothing worse than saying you’re a Black publication and then people aren’t seeing the people they look like.”

According to a 2021 study by Future Forums, just 3 per cent of Black people felt ready to return to full time in-person work

“I pointed out that Elle and all those publications mix and match the price points of the beauty products they mention so that didn’t make any sense. She came back with another excuse, and I thought you’re making it up now.” Shelley forwarded the thread on to an EDI officer at the beauty company but never got a response.

Keeks Reid has her own story of discrimination within beauty journalism. For two years during university, she used holidays to intern two weeks on, two weeks off at the Sunday Mirror as this was the maximum she could legally work without being paid.

But even with so much experience, she struggled for months after university to get an interview for a job or unpaid internship. “The only way I could get my foot in the door was by starting at Black Hair magazine which is a magazine specifically for Black women,” she says.

“If anyone else gave my CV a chance, they probably would have been really impressed by it,” but they didn’t. After two years, she was acting editor in chief. She has since written for Refinery29, Harper’s Bazaar – among others – and is a contributing beauty editor at Cosmopolitan

After leaving Black Hair and going freelance, Reid felt stuck. “I was going to become a teacher because I thought,

Four Black journalists share their experiences of beauty journalism past and present, and give their hopes for the future.

By Katie Ross

Image credit: Kemi Alemoru

Image credit: Irene Shelley

of beauty journalism

I can’t get back into the industry.”

She had applied for a job at Cosmopolitan and hadn’t heard back. “But then I just emailed the digital beauty editor, Vic Jowett, and I was just like, I really love your website, I really love the beauty content and I would love to write for you,” she explains. She felt that the content didn’t cater to Black women and pitched some ideas. “And even if I don’t write for you, could I just talk to you about what a Black woman might want to see?”

“She emailed me back and said, ‘Can you write them for me?’ And I was like, ‘Yes! Yes, I’ll literally do that right now. Drop everything.’ If Vic didn’t give me that chance, I don’t know where my career would have been, because it wasn’t just my words, it was my face.”

Jowett asked her to do before and after pictures with foundation and test the best products for Black skin and hair. Reid has played a vital role in their product testing process since 2017. “I really credit Cosmo When I think about it, it gives me chills. I know that sounds really cheesy,” she laughs.

All three women agree that representation has improved within beauty journalism but it is not yet where it should be. “A lot of hair trends come from Black women, you know, we started it,” says Shelley, going on to say how Caucasian women jump on trends like braids or baby hair formation. “There’s nothing wrong with that because they could turn round and say, ‘Well, you straighten your hair, but then I could turn round and say, ‘Yeah but we only straighten our hair because we are criticised for our hair by you guys. You do it out of choice.’”

Kemi Alemoru, gal-dem’s culture editor who has written on beauty at the publication

Guardian, agrees that it’s harmful when Black trends are adopted by other women.

“With beauty, obviously it can be a joyous space but it’s also an inherently political space,” she says, citing the annoyance many feel at braids being attributed to the Kardashians. “Beauty desks will parrot that as if [the Kardiashians] are the pioneers of it rather than really looking into the history of that look.”

“I want us to question what is beautiful,” says Alemoru, who believes that as a society we have very narrow beauty ideals. “I think it’s great to champion darker skin tones, because colourism exists. I think we should question Eurocentric standards of beauty.”

stuff, they’re writing about whatever. They’re not pigeonholed, when at the moment I think we might be getting pigeonholed.”

Reid adds that for representative beauty journalism, the industry needs to stop viewing Black people as a monolith and appreciate that the experience of each person from each culture has its own nuances, naming Jewel and Twiggy Jalloh, a beauty and lifestyle writer for Vogue. “We are not just the be all and end all of Black beauty,” she says. “There are things that we miss from each of our cultures as well, so the more diversely you hire the better.”

Alemoru agrees that hiring diversely is the route to industry progression when it comes to representation, adding that desks at traditional publishers are predominantly white, especially those in senior editing roles.

She continues: “I think there are far more conversations and far more aesthetics that can be explored, and I think that just takes editors who have an eye on the fringes and look at different communities and don’t just parrot what is trending.”

For things to progress further, Reid says other journalists need to speak about Black beauty. “I love when my friends message me like, ‘Babe just checking, is this a box braid or a tree braid?’ Because I love being able to write about everything. And if you can write about everything and I can write about everything

“There are a lot of [PoC] creatives in journalism who might get to write the odd piece or might get featured on beauty pages, but in terms of beauty editors, of course right the way through journalism there are real issues with diversity,” she says. “When we’re talking about journalists it’s really important to think about who has the power to commission, who has the money to commission, who’s at senior editorial levels, and we know that that is not diverse.”

“Real diversity means that these people are at the top,” says Jewel, who is now launching her own beauty range with 20 shades of foundation. “In the boardrooms, CEOs, beauty directors, all these things. When the people making the decisions are more diverse, that’s when things really change.”

Image credit: Keeks Reid

Image credit: Ateh Jewel

“You can be the best, but that’s still not good enough. That’s what true discrimination is”

This year’s scorching new style (guides)

Behind every publication there’s a fight to determine how a hyphen is used.

By Gabby Colvin consults the style council

Style guides: the difference between knowing that Charles will be coronated on May 6th 2023 or 6 May this year. Also, see: the difference between a happy editor and an unhappy one.

Style guides are the dictators whose decrees alter a publication’s personality; entries which decide political allegiances and keep us up to date with social change. They govern whether “climate sceptics” or only “climate deniers” exist. Whether an entire community is “Latinx” or “Latine” or “Latino”. Whether you say you support “Kiev” or truly support “Kyiv”.

So what changes have been made this year, and how are they altering the essence of your favourite publications?

For many, The Guardian’s furry of climaterelated style adaptations may be the most noticeable in the past few years. Overnight we were suffering from “global heating” instead of “global warming”, facing a “climate

crisis” or “climate emergency” instead of “climate change” and those who were once “climate sceptics” became “climate deniers”.

But not everyone is quite so quick to change. Lane Green, style guide editor at The Economist (arguably the best known style guide on the planet), takes a much less radical approach. “My job is to keep the ship sailing, not radically alter the course,” he says. And Leo Hickman, former Guardian environmental reporter and now the editor of Carbon Brief, actively decided not to follow in the footsteps of the paper despite broadly keeping to The Guardian’s style-guide for most copy.

“We’re policy neutral,” he explains. “Some audiences might view the changes as a form of advocacy and we have to consider our wide readership across all political spectrums, and across all kinds of geographies.”

For Hickman, the decision is one step too far – not away from journalistic neutrality but towards a non-scientifc association: “I think many people would agree that ‘crisis’ and ‘emergency’ are quite loaded terms – of course it is a crisis, scientists have been saying that for 30 years – but it overlaps too tightly with the language of campaigners and we’re not a campaigning organisation.”

Gal-dem, on the other hand, chooses to stand in solidarity with campaigners - “anti-abortion” instead of “prolife” for instance.

“I think it’s rare that true objectivity ever exists,” Naomi Larsson Peñeda from gal-dem’s political section

says. “We’re very clear on our political leanings and so we would never compromise on that – the reason we exist is to project our values.”

For Green at The Economist, specifcity is

everything when it comes to politics. “‘Prolife’ is a self-serving label, it really means ‘against abortion rights’, so to be clear I always say ‘the supporters of abortion rights’ or ‘opponents of legal abortion.’”

This specifcity allows The Economist to side-step quickly evolving language such as that relating to the LGBTQ+ community, or any communities for that matter: “We make changes fairly conservatively and we’re not going to be the frst person to make a particular change. We’re not Buzzfeed.”

Lane continues: “The specifc term is always better on all counts than a recently coined term. BAME or BIPOC, for exampleboth of them are umbrella terms that give a sense of solidarity, but I don’t like defning people by being non-white.

“If you’re talking about Latinos it’s helpful to distinguish between the Cuban Americans of Florida and the Puerto Ricans of New York because they’re entirely different cultures...we’re not trying to be the cool kids, we’re trying to have a classic style that will survive several generations.”

“To me,” Larsson Peñeda says, “our terms need to refect what’s going on and exactly how people wish to be referred to.”

Some decisions are a practical matter rather than a sliding spectrum of neutrality to activism. “We want to maintain consistency with our terminology,” Hickman said. “And actually, sometimes when I’m scanning an article in The Guardian, the changes trip me up.”

“We’re doing our homework in terms of gendered language”

We’ve just changed this keeppls up with style guide e-mails!

Suzanne Blumson

Charlie Bibby

up.”

Hickman is not the only one to be tripped up by stylistic decisions, as Suzanne Blumsom, executive newspaper editor of The Financial Times and 15 years style guide authority explains: “We used to write million as ‘M’ until it came to our attention that the software visually impaired people were using to listen to our copy interprets the ‘M’ as ‘meter’ instead of ‘million.’” Consequently, The Financial Times decided to add an “n” (making it “13 Mn,” for example) despite a year-long back and forth and the corporate desk confessing that it looked “a bit ugly”.

The extra letter caused uproar. “People hated it,” says Blumsom, “Which is surprising because we had a good reason, we were trying to be inclusive, but even now I get letters from readers saying ‘why did you put an ‘n’ it looks so ugly on your homepage’…so yes, I ended up on the radio again for that.”

Blumsom is referencing a few recently ruffed feathers with a change from “data” being treated as singular to plural – “data is” not “data are”. A large debate broadly sparked by the Latin route of the word, which Lane Green was also forced to weigh in on. “I just became convinced that there was no strong case for keeping data plural when it was making a lot of sentences look very odd. There are Latin plurals that are now English singular words like candelabra, stamina, agenda and it’s just… we don’t have to obey Latin.”

The fact that such a small change caused such heated exhanges is evidence of the importance of a style guide. “A red-letter day,” tweeted Alan Beattie, Financial Times columnist. “For anyone opposed, I’d like to know what your agendum is.”

“Next decision should be using singular for panino,” responded Mark Leach, Editor of Wonkhe, “I ate one panino today. Tomorrow I buy a selection of panini for my friends.”

The seemingly small change led to several thousands of Tweets and a live Radio 4 appearance from Blumsom.

appeal from the Ukranian government to stop utilising Russian spelling.

“So we’ve made the decision to change the spellings or names of countries based off their want to throw off a colonial past before — Chennai or Mumbai, for instance,” explains Blumsom, “but our Spanish correspondent wanted to remove the anglicised spellings for Spanish cities and in that regard, we maintain that we are an English newspaper.”

Alliance express that the capital letter suggests the existence and legitimacy of ‘Semitism’ which could be seen to legitimise “a form of pseudo-scientifc racial classifcation that was thoroughly discredited by association with Nazi ideology.”

When it comes to hard and fast rules for style, opinions vary, but directness seems to be at the forefront of every style guide editor’s agenda.

“We scoured through a lot of past copies and found that usage was heavily weighted towards singular before we went nuclear,” she explains, still quick to defend the decision almost a month later. “What’s most important when you’re on a style committee is to be aware of the evolution of language and you’re always going to come up against people who want to stay the same,” she concedes.

A recent debate in the style guide committee at The Financial Times, which is made up of a diverse selection of the most passionate and pernickety editors and contributors, has been whether or not to refer to cities in their mother-tongue. A wide range of publications have made the switch from referring to “Kiev” to “Kyiv” after an

When it comes to the war in Ukraine, directness is more than a matter of style for Lane Green, it’s a moral imperative. He explains: “Take ‘collateral damage’ versus ‘civilian deaths,” he says, brow furrowed,. “The former just pads the language, it makes you not see dead bodies on the ground and if you don’t want dead bodies on the ground, then you should make people see them in their mind’s eye… because then they should take action to make it stop. That’s very important to me, it is very important to most of us I think - to be unfinching and direct and honest, even when it’s a little painful.”

Directness can be a diffcult line to tread when it comes to identity and inclusivity.

“I think inclusivity is vital,” Larsson Peñeda confrms, “and if you want to make the world more inclusive you have to listen to the people – journalistically, in terms of both the stories you cover and the language you use to refer to people.”

Even tiny changes like the position of a hyphen can have a weighty meaning, as is exemplifed by The Financial Times’s most recent change from “Anti-Semitism” to “antisemitism”. Jewish groups such as the International Holocaust Remembrance

no full stops on pull quotes

Developments in technology are helping to push style guide changes on. Typewriter, The Guardian’s in-house style guide checker, suggests edits as you write copy, allowing editors to focus on stylistic changes as opposed to correcting common spelling mistakes. But as Jonathon Herbert, software developer at The Guardian, attests, “you can’t ever replace judgement, or thinking, or taste.”

The LGBTQ+ community is at the forefront when it comes to the evolution of language, but all three journalists agree that the best method to represent readers, as was the case with the “antisemitism” note, is to listen. And to actively seek out a wide range of sources to better understand.

“We have a committee of counsellors,” explains Blumsom “and we’re doing our homework in terms of gendered language.”

“I think that our readers really appreciate that we work in an inclusive space that is always trying to develop,” confrms Larsson Peñeda, “and we talk openly about it all the time in the offce.”

So which singular text can summarise a journalist’s allegiances in war and their opinions on abortion? Their views on the environment alongside their solidarity with religious groups and the visually impaired? And all within a word count less than this article? A style guide can.

“You can’t replace judgement, or thinking, or taste”

Leo Hickman

Is cancel culture a threat to journalism?

Cancelled. Dragged. Shunned. Called out. All terms associated with cancel culture: the phenomenon of publicly rejecting a person or group because of something they have said or done. But, as with everything,

By Megan Geall

famous cases of cancel culture like these have good arguments behind them, and the act of calling out celebrities for their actions is often a worthy cause. But when it comes to journalism and the so-called ‘dragging’ of columnists or opinion writers for bringing up fair topics of discussion, the lines are blurrier. Is the sanctity of journalism as a profession under threat? How can journalists produce balanced reports and scrutinise authority fgures when they’re likely to receive a barrage of abusive comments?

“Once, below a piece, a man threatened to punch me in the face, and I was writing about my cat or something,” says journalist and personal essayist Esther Walker. “Until you’ve experienced it, you can’t really understand how terrible it is. It’s completely out of control and unacceptable.”Internet trolls and cancel culture can be dangerous for anyone, including journalists, and especially female journalists.

“Journalism is, bottom line, a dangerous job,” says Walker. “If you put yourself out there in the public doing anything – if you’re on TV, or reading the news, or just being journalists – that’s dangerous,

“It is scary when someone threatens you physically or sexually. Most women want to avoid that kind of confrontation, and so we

Walker’s approach to writing personal essays has changed over the last 20 years as social media has grown and changed the nature of journalistic discussion. Before Twitter started and our need for instant gratifcation, the news industry relied on daily print newspapers and BBC Children in , explains that while the way we receive news has changed, the role of the columnist has not. It remains a way to provide expert analysis and opinion on public interest matters,

“People read [columns] because they like to have their own views responded to and echoed,” she says. “You don’t often read it to gain information. You read it to gain backup, or to be challenged. I have had my mind changed by columns, so columns, I think, are more important

So where does that leave opinion writers, columnists, and journalists sharing their personal experiences in the current industry – where backlash and

How social media has shamed and shunned journalists into a trend of self-censorship.

“dragging” people online is increasingly becoming commonplace? Opinion writing opens up and encourages public discourse on important topics, such as Georgia Aspinall’s piece on the government failings in regards to the refugee crisis, using research and a journalistic voice to explain and construct an argument for her point of view.

When there is a good faith discussion between a journalist and a reader, it can be very benefcial as – while journalists like to pretend we know everything – we don’t. Reactions on social media have forced journalists and media organisations into apologies or rewrites, such as when the BBC apologised for mistaking Black Peppa and Baby in a video posted to the Drag Race UK social channels. Fans of the show took to Twitter to call out the BBC for being unable to differentiate between the only two black contestants with Black Peppa, herself, branding it “lazy and disgusting”.

It is only natural for journalists to feel protective over the work they create, but comments can often help journalists refect on their work and correct mistakes.

Describing a controversial column that she wrote in the past which criticised women for their reactions to sexual harassment allegations against a radio presenter in the eighties, Millard admits: “I was too hasty. Just because I felt okay with being unobjectively gazed at, or for example, wolf whistl[ed at] –I don’t mind that. But for some women, it’s disturbing, they don’t want it. And actually, I had my mind changed by the backlash.”

The issue of backlash and cancel culture arises when the exchange between the reader and journalist becomes argumentative, accusatory, and most importantly, personal. There is an important distinction between fair

comment and fagging bias or inaccuracies, and sending pure hate comments.

“[Readers] are entitled to tell me that I’ve got something wrong, but you’re not allowed to say: ‘You’re fat and ugly, I hate your makeup and your writing is s***’,” says Esther Walker. “It is a very, very fne line. And if you’ve been beaten up a few times online, you can get very over-sensitive about fair comment.”

Social media platforms like Twitter have opened up journalists to a wider audience and a larger platform on which news and important topics can be shared and discussed. In some senses, social media allows journalists to fulfl our duty to the public — namely sharing and reporting on matters of public interest. However, it also has many downfalls — hateful comments being one.

at the same time.”

Crossing the line between fair discussion and hateful comments is where things get problematic and destructive.

“I am certainly concerned that, sooner or later, someone’s going to get hurt in real life, as we’ve seen in politics,” says Vernon.

After the brutal murders of Labour MP Jo Cox in 2016 and Conservative David Amess two years ago, it is unsurprising a fear of this type of confrontation is causing self-censorship. Journalists wanting to avoid hateful comments and possible abuse have begun to choose their battles; only producing work for which they would be willing to suffer potential backlash and comments attacking their journalism and personal lives.

“I’m willing to say, ‘I disagree with public schools and I think they should be banned’, that is a hill I’m willing to die on,” says Millard, confdently adding: “I would never, ever, write about trans issues in public. I don’t know enough about it. I’m not close to anyone transitioning and I think if you are, it changes your view completely.”

“It’s so easy to formulate and post an angry comment or tweet now,” says Polly Vernon, style journalist and columnist. “Often before you’ve had the time to work out if you actually mean it, so people do.” Reading criticism of your own artistic and journalistic work isn’t easy, and unlike receiving hate mail, the sheer volume of messages to your email or social media pages makes it diffcult to ignore.

“I fnd it most diffcult when there’s a huge volume all at once, a pile on,” explains Vernon. “It’s not what they’re saying (largely, it doesn’t make a lot of sense and it’s obviously fawed). It’s more that tens or twenties or hundreds of people are on at you

Of course, journalists should be held accountable for inaccuracy and should allow fair criticism of their work, especially if they share opinions on subjects and experiences that they haven’t come up against themselves. Accountability is crucial. But self-censorship becomes an issue when it prevents the creative fow of ideas and free journalistic discussion. And, perhaps most importantly, receiving personal abuse starts becoming an expected part of the job.

“I am generally worried it’ll impact creativity, stop people trying out new ideas,” says Vernon. “There are some opinions I just won’t share any more because I can’t be bothered with the backlash.”

“I am certainly concerned that, sooner or later, someone’s going to get hurt in real life”

Victoria Derbyshire: “One day your face fits, next day it doesn’t”

The TV host talks TikTok, treatment and tone of voice with Alex Berry

No amount of experience on news television and radio can guarantee you a job, as Victoria Derbyshire knows all too well. It’s a chilly December night, in the Lexington bar in Angel, packed with the usual post-work crowd and festive parties. A DJ is attempting to please a struggling crowd with soulless dance music, while Derbyshire savours a well-earned drink after a memorable year. She flits between the dance floor – for The Human League’s seminal “Don’t You Want Me” – before returning to the bar to set a date to tell us more about her year, perhaps when she’s feeling a little less merry.

After all, it’s been a year for Derbyshire. When her television programme, Victoria

Derbyshire, was cancelled in 2020 she could easily have felt thrown into a state of uncertainty and panic. However, the pragmatic and resourceful journalist in her took this closed door, and from its abruptly shut hinges, swung open a new one by starting a TikTok channel.

Not everybody could make a move like this – but then, not everybody is Victoria Derbyshire. Even in the dark crowded Lexington, her face is instantly recognisable. For over 25 years, she has been in homes, cars, workplaces, and phone screens, delivering primetime news in both television and radio. Her voice – both deep and clear – has been a regular presence in BBC radio, having presented Radio5Live for 16 years between 1998 and 2014.

Weeks later, we’re at the Caffè Nero right by the BBC Broadcasting House –convenient for squeezing in a mid-afternoon interview. Sporting a fabulous pink coat and a camera-ready blow-dry, she greets us with an enormous smile and a firm handshake. She begins right where she left off – her TikTok channel.

The channel – which has now amassed almost 450, 000 followers – follows her coverage of major news stories, but in a way we have never seen her before. Casual yet effective, unedited yet brief, Derbyshire aims to inform and involve the younger generation of the news by appearing on the largest-growing social media platform in the world, playing her role in the rapidly evolving news landscape: “I felt like I was

providing a really useful service by starting it: being lowkey, factually accurate, calm, and not using sensational images, but much more informal obviously.” Since starting the channel, Derbyshire has covered stories on the riots in government buildings in Brasília, the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II, and the investigation into illegal parties at Downing Street during lockdown.

Now, some are wondering how much influence the BBC holds over its journalists’ social media platforms. The conversation comes after a controversial tweet by Gary Lineker caused his temporary dismissal as Match of the Day host after a 24-year stint. The tweet compared language used in a Home Office video about immigration to that of Nazi Germany.

About her TikTok channel, Derbyshire says, “They haven’t said they’ve got a problem with it.” But could the same be said if she chose to use the platform to express personal views? After all, Lineker did not necessarily predict the backlash he received, from an organisation with whom he had worked for over 20 years.

Although she uses mainly BBC sources to gather information, the channel is listed under her name and doesn’t hold any association with the broadcasting company, separating the two strands of her work. She emphasises the freedom and ease of being able to film these shorts “in [her] living room or back bedroom,” and among her news videos, you will find several candid clips of her husband, children, and two cocker spaniels. It’s a small window into her private life, her own personal platform where, incidentally, she also utilises her skills as a reporter.

Derbyshire offers short snippets of news on her TikTok which she coins ‘mini explainers’. She is looking to inform people, notably the younger generations: “Particularly in the run-up to the war in Ukraine, there was massive demand from young people who were anxious, scared,

Ken Bruce’s recent, dramatic dismissal from Radio 2 after over 30 years. She says, “I know what

worried, thinking it was going to be WWIII, worried that their older brother might be called up. They had no idea because they’ve never experienced a war before.”

As an admired journalist who has become a household name, Derbyshire knows the perils of the TV journalism industry. On her show’s cancellation she says, “One day your face fits, the next day it doesn’t.” She counts herself lucky that among the various anxieties that came with the shock, she still had a job at the end of it. Her position within the BBC was not compromised and the snap decision did not tarnish her name.

Of course, this was not the first time the BBC have undercut a key player, with Chris Moyles being blindsided by Radio 1 in his alleged 2012 sacking without notice, and

this industry’s like. It’s fickle, it’s changing, I’m not knocking that I’m trying to go with it – that’s why I do TikTok.”

Her reach is broadening daily. With her new online presence, she is adapting to the changing news environment and rewriting what it means to be a traditional news reader. And it’s not the first time Derbyshire has felt personal responsibility to provide valuable news that may be missing elsewhere. Her video documentation of her breast cancer treatment and mastectomy in 2016 saw her journalism skills applied to a personal ordeal. Reaching thousands, Derbyshire recorded everything from her first treatment-induced hair loss to an intimate post-op video blog from her hospital bed. On the responsibility she feels to candidly provide this information, Derbyshire confirms that this documentation came entirely from a journalistic instinct, acting as a helping hand for many people going through a similar struggle. “It was totally about journalism,” she says. “It was the most natural thing in the world. I didn’t necessarily know what the treatment would involve, that means other people might not know, so I thought, ‘Let’s record this as we go along.’”

She reflects on her diagnosis: “There’s a few weeks when you don’t know whether it’s treatable which is f*****g awful. And then they say they can treat it so you think, ‘Oh my God, I’m gonna live!’ and then I thought, ‘Right, let’s do some journalism on this.’” Part of that involved diary writing as well which she says was healing. “I get catharsis from that process. Maybe it’s an extension of that.”

Derbyshire is mindful in everything she says. She holds the importance and potential impact of her career highly when she speaks, constantly aware of the responsibility journalists carry to deliver the most important stories accurately. “We do stories about people’s lives and sometimes that can

be uplifting and amazing, and sometimes it can be utterly traumatising. I’m drawn to stories that appear on the face of it, that some sort of miscarriage of justice is going on.”

Her far-reaching influence was witnessed during one specific broadcast on 6th April 2020. During the national lockdown, she appeared on BBC News with the telephone number for the National Domestic Abuse Hotline written on her hand, a choice which she says was not wholly intentional, as the writing was still on there from a photo she had tweeted earlier that day.

Derbyshire acknowledges that BBC journalists need to get permission to be associated with particular charities because they cannot seem to be giving preference to one charity over another. There are some topics, however, that according to her, merit a stance. “From a personal view, I don’t think you can be impartial about domestic abuse. Obviously. There are no two sides to domestic abuse. And so if it helped anyone that day who was trapped in their home, then I’m good with that.”

In her broadcasting career, Derbyshire

“I don’t think you can be impartial about domestic abuse”

The journalist’s TikTok has garnered almost half a million followers in jsut two years

“I know what this industry’s like. It’s fickle, it’s changing, I’m not knocking that I’m trying to go with it”

is well-known for her investigative skills and uncovering of miscarriages of justice. For her work in this area she has received critical acclaim, establishing herself as more than just a newsreader. Her coverage of the football sexual abuse scandal in 2017 won her the BAFTA for Television News Coverage that year. She notes that this story was the most memorable piece she has worked on so far in her career.

What makes her so good then? Perhaps it’s her direct and curious journalistic style, not dissimilar from her off-screen personality. When not responding with clear answers, she is clarifying and asking follow-up questions to ensure she has full understanding of the conversation. She’s precise in her phrasing. She often pauses for a few seconds, holding total silence while she plans her next response. Sometimes she uses phrases like, “I hope I’m communicating this properly,” or “Let me make sure I’m being absolutely clear here.”

Decades of being in the public eye and the social threats of cancel culture are bound to make her think twice about her answers. It doesn’t make her look nervous – just careful and precise. This steadfast clarity has established her as one of the UK’s leading broadcast journalists, and rightly earned her the gig of Newsnight host along with her friend and colleague Kirsty Wark.

Only the night before this interview, Derbyshire demonstrated the casual ease with which she conducts her work when she comically handled former Conservative MP Kenneth Baker’s phone ringing during his Newsnight interview. “I was just trying to do my job which is asking the questions, and deal with the phone without looking rude to the guests,” she recalls. “I’ve done hundreds of hours of TV and radio, and these things happen all the time.”

Able to ignore the subsequent headlines that graced the papers the next morning, Derbyshire says that this is one of the beauties and challenges of being on live TV: “You do not know what’s going to happen.” It’s clearly not something which she feels awkward or embarrassed about: “If you level with the audience and behave like a human being, be polite, and continue doing the job, the audience will get it.”

Derbyshire has been at the centre of national reporting, responsible

for delivering significant news stories nationally and globally. From the 7/7 bombings and the Grenfell Tower Fire to the outbreak of Covid-19, she has often been the first voice breaking hugely significant events in world news. On this immense responsibility, Derbyshire says, “You don’t always have time to process it. Sometimes it feels like, ‘I am learning something at the same time as the viewer,’ and that’s okay as long as

I’m calm, authoritative, accurate, and straightforward.” Holding the news for a few moments without feeling the pressure doesn’t phase Derbyshire: “It’s my job.”

When breaking potentially emotional news, Derbyshire has always brought some humanity to her presenting: “I am a human being first and a journalist second. You can express your humanity in the tone of your voice,” she says. “You might be reading pretty brutal words, but the tone and the manner in which you deliver it makes it possible to express the fact that you might be moved by something, without making it about you.”

Derbyshire is an example of the lengths reporters have to go to in their daily work and the respect they deserve. Their personal platforms are theirs to use and there is no risk that Derbyshire will take advantage of her position or use her influence irresponsibly. She embodies the fairness, thoughtfulness, and maturity that we expect from our BBC reporters.

Most people have the freedom to mute the radio, turn off notifications, close the paper, or switch the channel, but for journalists, this isn’t the case. We trust them to provide a necessary service, to deliver important stories regardless of their pain or bitterness. Ultimately, this service is the reason Derbyshire’s work prevails. “If I can do journalism that’s going to make a difference to people’s lives, that’s what I want to do,” she says. “It’s not a game.”

“If you level with the audience and behave like a human being, be polite, and continue doing the job, the audience will get it”

POLES APART

Jenna Kunze steps outside. It’s -40 degrees Celsius in Utqiaġvik, the United States’ northernmost community and home to one of the largest settlements of Indigenous Alaskans, known as the Iñupiat. Stretches of blueish tundra race towards the horizon. A dusken glow settles. She’s gone three months without daylight and braves the elements for 10 minutes to savour the short burst of half-light reappearing –that doesn’t stop the frostbite on her cheek from forming. But the view, albeit for a moment, is worth it.

“It’s like being on Mars,” says Kunze – a reporter covering predominantly Alaskan and Arctic news – who spent months in Utqiaġvik, a community located North of the Arctic Circle. “There are horizons of tundra for miles and miles because it’s all frozen over. When I tell people about my time in the North, they often ask me, ‘Why would people choose to live there?’ And the answer is because it’s some people’s ancestral homeland. For Indigenous people, if your family has been tied to the land for generations, that’s what you call home.”

The notion of the Arctic is complicated in the eyes of the world, but it’s rarely seen as synonymous with home. If anything, the media is prone to positioning it as an

inhabitable climate in every sense – a world quite literally melting as a consequence of the climate crisis and a place where native and Indigenous communities are fghting to survive. That’s true even if these native communities have been adapting to the climate for centuries, but the speed of the environmental change around them stands to be the reason the Arctic is attracting increasing attention.

divide between Russia and the Nordic region in the North Sea even more contentious. And the recent discovery of rare earth metals in Arctic Sweden – now Europe’s biggest deposit of the kind – makes for an area ripe for cultivating. Understanding what is going on in the region then, has arguably never been more important.

And yet, little is known of what life in the Arctic is really like, beyond a form of fabled mysticism most often promoted by Western media. Even less is known of what it means to report from one of the most inhospitable regions of the world, the beats that reporters cover, how they source stories and most pressingly, how they survive.

According to the Arctic Council –one of the leading bodies promoting intergovernmental cooperation in the Arctic – temperatures in the region are rising at three times the global average of 1.1 degrees Celsius; shifting the landscape of the icy North and its wildlife, and with that driving increasingly turbulent weather patterns around the world. Beyond climate, the war in Ukraine has placed more stress on Europe’s energy sources making the

Gloria Dickie, the climate and environment correspondent for Reuters who has reported from across the Arctic, says that the misconception global media fuels around the region and its people being disconnected, that is far from the truth. “The main thing that’s often struck me as an environmental reporter is the lack of remoteness,” she says. Roads are everywhere. People are everywhere. The fngerprints of human activity are almost everywhere you look. The soloness is amplifed by the Arctic landscape but it’s actually very hard to feel alone.”

Loneliness or a lack of connectedness isn’t something that necessarily lingers –unlike the cold. The logistics of reporting

As the climate crisis unravels and reshapes the world, the Arctic is under increased scrutiny. Tom Flanagan speaks to five journalists working from one of the world’s most inhospitable environments

“We might feel like we’re in the middle of nowhere, but it’s the middle of somewhere to somebody”

out there are acutely different from other areas in the world because you’re dealing with a much harsher climate. “You can’t prepare for the cold,” says Dickie. “It sounds simple but when you’re working and writing in cold places like that, you need things like hand warmers in your pockets to keep your batteries warm.”

Kunze – a journalist originally hailing from New York who spent months living out in northernmost Alaska after being granted money by Pulitzer to report on what it was like for local Alaskans living on the front lines of the climate crisis – knows this well. She said it changed her perspective forever.

“I went out there because I felt the need to immerse myself in the communities and experience what it was like for myself,” says Kunze, who had always been drawn to environmental topics and wanted to write on beats that would take her far away from her native New York. “There is a lot of gloomand-doom language surrounding the Arctic, particularly coming from journalists. But the Indigenous communities out there have a complex relationship with the environment as well as the United States. Ask them about the effects of the climate crisis and they’ll say ‘We’ve been fghting it for years. We’ll adapt.’”

Community is at the centre of Arctic journalism. After all, in places where there’s

often only a few hundred people, the only way to fnd a story is through these people. Stories then tend to be hyper local. In Kunze’s experience, fshing and ice melts became the topics she ended up mainly reporting on, even if the climate crisis remained the wider backdrop.

These communities play a central role in any story of the Arctic but historically have often been forgotten about, or worse, silenced. It’s one reason why Kunze partnered with Indigenous reporter and Iñupiaq Alice Qannik Glenn on her Pulitzerfunded story, as much for access as a way of giving Indigenous people a voice to tell the story on their own terms. The two spent months in Glenn’s hometown, working on stories across fshing and whaling practices, community access to education which is harder to come by, and sewage restructuring as a result of the changing climate. “Villages are built on sea ice and the houses are built into the permafrost,” she explains. “Meaning when it melts and thaws water spouts through.”

Notions of access and the language used by non-Arctic writers are a central part of successful reporting in the Arctic region, says Jimmy Thomson, a northern-focused journalist from Canada. He has reported for National Geographic, VICE, and the Canadian environmental investigative journal The Narwhal, from Arctic Norway as well as some of Canada’s northernmost territories.

“Words like remote and wilderness are ones a lot of Indigenous communities in Canada will bristle at,” explains Thomson.

“Yes, these communities are incredibly hard and expensive to get to. But what might be in the middle of nowhere to us as people from the city, is usually the middle of someone’s home. It’s someone’s territory, it’s someone’s trap line, and it’s someone’s highway in and out of their community. We might feel like we’re in the middle of nowhere, but it’s the middle of somewhere to somebody.”

Access is a notable challenge any journalist in the Arctic faces. That means both with people and logistically. Roads are everywhere – that doesn’t mean they’re easily traversed. Kunze says she went dog-mushing for one story – essentially a sled pulled by dogs –to get to where she needed to be. It’s not standard, but it’s not uncommon either for alternative means of transport in an unpredictable climate that often involves crossing ice. Thomson recalls one anecdote he came across while working on a story –around buoys that help measure ice thickness to improve safety of travel – that encapsulates the unique perils of reporting in the Arctic.

“A friend of somebody I knew was travelling by Ski-doo while out hunting,” he says. “He told me this harrowing story of going through the ice and being rescued on an island not far from there. I think he had to spend the night just shivering in the dark. So when it came time to write a story, I wasn’t just writing about some abstract idea. I suddenly could call up a person and say “Here are the stakes”.”

And because of the climate, it’s an area

Roxanne Desgagnes

Annie Spratt

that is not just physically challenging but one that is logistically hard and expensive to plan. Thomson says it’s one reason why going to the Arctic means you have to be more than just a writer. “I have often been the only reporter on an assignment,” explains Thomson. “I’m not sent with a photographer or a videographer so I might be expected to do all those things that traditionally an entire team would.”

In the case of both Thomson and Kunze, they spent time out in the communities, building relationships and cultivating trust. For Indigenous communities, that’s crucial. Kunze explains that people would not have spoken to her had it not been for Glenn who grew up in Utqiaġvik. “Journalists are poorly received in these communities,” says Kunze. “And that’s because the people have been so misrepresented.”

It also gave her a support system to cope with the weather patterns. Every year from November to January, Utqiaġvik experiences darkness, with the closest light resembling something akin to dusk, says Kunze. “I didn’t appreciate how much not seeing the sun would affect me,” she says. “Alice’s cousin would take me to the gym and we’d workout together which became a lifeline as you couldn’t do much else. It’s a totally different experience working up there versus in an urban environment further south.”

Few reporters are really ever prepared for reporting in the region. Worse, many come with assumptions about the people that live in the North, othering them through their emphasis on the Arctic’s perceived distance from ‘the world’. JohnJo Devlin, a Scandinavia correspondent who writes for The Economist and VICE among others, recognises this as a crucial dialogue in the region and one that journalists need to be helping to change. “We shouldn’t be exoticising the region and its communities. People in these places don’t often feel like they’re at the edge of the world,” he says. “They feel like they’re at the centre of it.”

Part of the issue beyond the mislabelling is the preconceptions urban media and writers bring with them. Indigenous communities in the Arctic live off age-old traditions that include activities like whale hunting and these aren’t often adherent to global regulatory and ethical standards. And the greenwashing and judgement reporters bring

with them builds a sense of mistrust among Arctic communities.

“Journalists are perceived to be evil, which means getting in the door is hard,” explains Devlin, who’s spent time with whalers in the Barents Seas and wolf hunters in the Østfold region of Norway. “That’s because these communities have always been given a bad rap. You need to invest and earn their trust. Because when you spend time with people who grew up with these traditions, it changes your perception.” Those connections are imperative. When Jimmy Thomson was posted to the Arctic, he cites his network as the make or break factor. “You’re dealing with a very small community, and if you hack people off or you do really bad reporting. you probably won’t get a second chance,” he says. “Whereas if you do have those connections and you make that network, people will help you. They’re all connected.”

set in, but there’s a realisation that life as they know it is changing.

“Change is happening all the time,” she says. “The climate crisis is alarming. I feel it everywhere. It’s grief. Because I know that my community of 750 people can’t stop it.”

It’s an experience she’s written about, about climate and loss, for publications like The New York Times, in hope of injecting the personal into a crisis that feels overwhelmingly large.

Even still, she says there is work being done by Indigenous communities to reclaim some agency in the story of the shifting Arctic and its effect on them. “Capitalism is huge but we’re doing what we can to be proactive about what’s to come. Knowing our town is going to be underwater in however many years means we have to be. So many stories are victimising us, calling communities like ours climate refugees. But we’re not just sitting here waiting for it to happen.”

That doesn’t stop the sadness from creeping in. While the climate and the Arctic might seem otherworldly or far away, Ivanoff says there are real lives at stake – lives, like those of her family, who may never know the Arctic she does. “I wrote something about the climate crisis for The New York Times, but it was incredibly personal. It was about my son.

With technology increasingly pervasive, there’s no escaping the world’s gaze online. Kunze recalls one story of an Indigenous teenage boy who published a picture of his frst bowhead whale killing, a rite of passage in the community. Upon posting it, he received huge waves of backlash on social media and ended up in a severe depression for months.

The task of reporting in the Arctic is daunting and the attention it’s being given only looks set to grow. “The world has these Arctic dreams,” says Dickie of the mythicism the Arctic has long been associated with. “But it’s becoming an increasingly fruitful space for geopolitics.”

Where then, does that leave the wildlife and the people who call it home? And whose story will be remembered in the years to come? Inupiaq journalist Laureli Ivanoff isn’t sure. She lives in Unalakleet – one of Alaska’s westernmost cities and the place she is from – but still feels the world’s focus and the climate crisis play out all around her. Hopelessness in her community hasn’t quite

“When I think about the warming of the Bering Sea, that’s what it comes back to. It hurts because I see how fast things are changing. And I’m left wondering what he’s going to experience and what he’s not ultimately going to experience, of this great life that we have.”

Image credit: Dylan Shaw

“The climate crisis is alarming. I feel it everywhere. It’s grief ”

Moral of the story

How the pressure to publish is forcing to journalists to compromise their values by

Megan Taros is the kind of journalist who strived to hold power to account. To her, writing about things that affected marginalized communities and put pressure on governments felt like her calling. Under the pressures of the fast-paced newsroom, however, she felt this calling crack.

“One thing that gets in the way of good coverage is ‘We need this to run now,’” she says. “Sometimes people are encouraged to rush [stories] and not take the time that they deserve. If we want to make amends with communities we’ve harmed, we can’t fx them with 500 word stories.”

Taros experienced this frst-hand when writing a story about rent infation in Pheonix. When rent prices seemed to skyrocket overnight, she had 24 hours to put together a story. With limited time and competing priorities, Taros didn’t get a chance to speak to prospective tenants-–an oversight that left her readers less than satisfed.

“It made me feel terrible,” she recalls. “I feel like I did leave out a crucial voice.”

Ridden with regret and not being able to take back what was already burned onto the internet, Taros suffered a moral injury.

Moral injuries, also known as ‘injuries of the soul’, occur when a person feels they have transgressed their own moral code by engaging in, failing to prevent, or witnessing an act that goes against their own value system. It’s not a phenomenon unique to journalism, having been commonly observed in the military and, in healthcare workers.

It was brought to the attention of journalists in 2015, after a study by Antony Feinstein revealed that reporting on the migrant crisis and being unable to do anything but witness had affected the journalists who had been there.

According to Clothilde Redfern, Director of the Rory Peck Trust, an international NGO supporting journalists, moral injuries will affect a quarter of the journalism profession. They are more common among the industry than PTSD, even in war reporting, however, over half of journalists don’t even know what they are.

Part of the reason is because the word ‘moral’ can be loaded for journalists. Objectivity and impartiality are central to the profession and to ethical guidelines from IPSO, IMPRESS and the NUJ. “If you’re having ‘moral injuries,’ you’re in the wrong profession. Your values have nothing to do with your job. Go and be an activist,” said one respondent in a Facebook discussion conducted as background research. And this was not an isolated reaction: the vast majority of respondents were appalled at journalists

Maira Butt and Samantha Fink

having moral dilemmas in reporting. “You have totally misunderstood the purpose of journalism,” said another.

But Redfern says it’s impossible for people to be objective, and instead of impartiality, journalists should focus on authenticity. “We’re all humans, it’s more important to be transparent about where you’re telling the story from and where you come from, than pretend to wear this cloak of objectivity and impartiality,” she says.

be the reason newsrooms miss the symptoms of moral injury in their employees.

According to Redfern, we can distinguish between moral dilemmas and moral injuries. “A moral dilemma that is making you uncomfortable can be worked through with a professional, a mentor, or your editor,” she says. ““A moral injury will be so diffcult to manage that you may not even be able to work.”

In her experience, the “injured” often experiences guilt and anger at frst, possibly leading to depression and burnout. They may even lose motivation and drop out of journalism. When things get bad, these journalists come to the Rory Peck Trust, who support them through their Therapy Fund.

In an increasingly competitive and digital climate, there is pressure over writers to publish as quickly as possible. However, this rat race can leave journalists later wondering if they’d reported as faithfully as possible.

Melissa Stanger, a former journalist at INSIDER and now a psychotherapist who specialises in working with reporters, says: “I’ve had times where clients have said ‘I wish I did something differently,’ not because they made a source feel uncomfortable but because they felt it was reported with not enough humanity in the piece.” She adds: “I’ve also had clients tell me how hard it was to not break down and lose composure. They’ve said, ‘I really wanted to break the fourth wall, and just be with this person, not as a reporter but as a human.’”

Redfern believes it is this perception that emotion equates to unprofessionalism that can lead to stigma for a person suffering from a moral injury. “We’re emotional beings,” she says. “It’s part of our biological makeup.” The pressure to publish can also

As one solution, Redfern thinks journalists need to see moral injuries as regular parts of the profession and embed their existence into practice. The Rory Peck Trust encourages newsrooms to use moral injury assessments as a matter of course around sensitive stories to keep tabs on writers’ mental health. That way, the newsroom will lose less staff as well—to occasional mental health days, or permanently.

Many journalists perceive misinformation and disinformation as the biggest threats facing journalism in the modern age. According to Redfern, it’s moral injuries. “Really good journalists are rare,” she says. “They are really invested in what they’re doing and therefore more likely to suffer from moral injury because of their investment in their work.”

Far from being stigmatised, she feels these journalists should be cherished. “We need those people, we really, really need those driven people who will dedicate their life to their vocation of uncovering wrongdoing in the world and holding power to account, just like we need all the vocational teachers, nurses and doctors. They’re purpose-driven people, and we as a society need far more of those.”

“It’s more important to be transparent about where you’re telling the story from than pretend to wear this cloak of impartiality”

Ethan Sykes

Ethan Sykes

Reality (sound) bites

Ella Gauci on the journalists blurring the line between contestants and copy

“Simon Cowell told me: What are you doing? Don’t go on it. You’re a journalist – never be the story.”

This was the advice Sharon Marshall received from the X-Factor judge before she appeared on Season 4 of ITV’s weight-loss show Celebrity Fit Club in 2006. Marshall was no stranger to the camera. Having just joined ITV’s This Morning, she went on the show just to lose some weight and stop smoking.

Instead, she was dropped into the middle of a front-page scandal regarding her fellow contestant and journalist, Anne Diamond. On a show that was centred around competing to lose weight, the media quickly accused Diamond of cheating for having a gastric band ftted beforehand. Headlines such as The Mirror’s “TV ANNE IN FIT CLUB QUIT FURY” quickly made their way to all major papers.

Marshall recalls: “At that point, it ruined the whole thing for me. I remember saying to her, “I’m going to have to write this story.” From that point on, I went into journalism mode. I stopped enjoying the show as a participant. [Broadcaster] Carole Malone was on it with me and we just looked at each other and went: this is a big story.”

Across all beloved British reality TV shows, you can almost always fnd a journalist among a hoard of ex-Love Island contestants. Marshall is not the only journalist who has found themselves embroiled in the scandal itself. Journalism by nature is about uncovering stories. What happens when the story is one that not only involves the journalist, but one where they know the public – and their boss – are watching them? Sometimes there is only one option: report on it.

Last year saw the infamous moment where ITV news broadcaster Charlene White confronted Matt Hancock on I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here about his role as Health Secretary. Hancock’s appearance on the show

“We viewed it all as copy”

Sally Rose Griffths

Ken Mckay

Janet Street Porter and Paul Burrel (pictured)

Bear Grylls and Sally Rose Griffths (pictured)

Sharon Marshall (pictured)

was shrouded in controversy. Ofcom received over 1,100 complaints about his involvement on the show after he was forced to resign over his actions during the pandemic. White knew that the public wanted answers. So she asked the question she knew was on the public’s mind: “Do you regret the way you handled the pandemic as a whole?”

“The second you go into journalism mode and start reporting on everyone there I don’t think you get the full experience or joy of being in it,” Marshall laments. “We viewed it all as copy.”

captivated by her emerging friendship with the frontman of the Hip hop trio N-Dubz Dappy who claimed that she was a “sister from another mister”.

Aisha Barrett, story producer for the Channel 4 TV show Coach Trip, strives to fnd moments like these. “Unlikely friendships are awesome. I particularly am a fan of a bad boy/older woman vibe because it’s kind of maternal and usually brings out the guy’s softer side. We always encourage people to talk about their careers or outside lives so they can fnd things in common and bond.”

that experience as well. Our living conditions were so hard that I had to get the fre going again.”

Griffths wasn’t the only person who didn’t know what they were getting in for when joining a reality TV show. BBC presenter Gavin Esler had no idea what to expect when he was approached by the BBC to go on Celebrity Masterchef. Esler had never even watched the show before he competed. “I have probably appeared in more reality TV episodes than I’ve actually watched,” he chuckles.

From then on, she treated her interactions on the show like interviews. As Marshall predicted, the media swarmed around the story. Diamond eventually quit Celebrity Fit Club due to objections from other contestants about the unfairness of her surgery. At the time, Marshall felt she was doing her job. Working as a columnist for The Sun as well as being on This Morning, it was instinctive to treat the situation as if she was writing an article.

That being said, bonding is not always on the forefront of contestants’ minds. When former servant of the Royal Household Paul Burrel, famous for revealing behind-thescenes secrets of royal life, went on Season 4 of I’m A Celebrity, it was only a matter of time before he would get interrogated about the Queen. Broadcast legend Janet Street Porter took it upon herself to “open the foodgates” and start the conversation about the Royal Family. Knowing it was the elephant in the room – or the jungle in this case – Porter gave audiences what they really wanted to hear about: what happens inside Buckingham Palace.

However, these moments of confict –or at least what we see of them – are not completely organic. When documentary

Throughout his career he presented shows like BBC Two’s Newsnight and the BBC’s News at Five. However, in 2021, Esler dropped politics for parfait when he appeared on the cooking competition.

The BBC presenter had one main concern when he was approached for the show and it wasn’t uncovering a scandal. “I’ve not got a sweet tooth,” he admits. It therefore came as no surprise when it was his attempt at a plum sorbet that eventually got him eliminated. Despite having no idea who any of the other contestants, such as media personality Katie Price or TV presenter Joe Swash, were – “I had never heard of any of them.” – Esler went on to love his Masterchef experience and the comradery in the kitchen.

“We got on very well,” Esler says. “Everytime someone screwed up we all knew that any of us could have done that. But it was very jolly.”

For Marshall, this is the best way to approach going on reality TV. “I think you have to make that decision when you go into it: are you going in as a participant on a reality show or as a journalist who’s there to report on it? If you’re going for the latter you have to realise that you don’t get the full joy of the show.”

Would they do it again? For Esler, it would have to be something outdoorsy (“Maybe learning to ride an elephant!”). And for Marshall… anything that isn’t ITV’s diving game show Splash (“I just know what my colleagues at the news desk would do with a shot of my bum on the diving board”).

because no one was manning it that would be a storyline. But then I would have to live

For shows like Big Brother or I’m a Celebrity, which are designed to prompt headlines and scandal, it seems impossible that any journalist could avoid slipping into “journalism mode”. When the front-page story is on your doorstep, it would go against all instincts – journalistic or otherwise – not to follow it. But on shows designed purely for some light-hearted family watching and a bit of fun, it would seem that you can in fact turn off the dictaphone and – in Esler’s case – turn on the hob.

fashion journalist Liz Jones appeared on series 13 of Big Brother audiences were

“I just know what my colleagues at the news desk would do with a shot of my bum on the diving board”

“As with all storytelling, they make you into heroes or villains”

Photojournalism in Ukraine

What’s it like to be behind the lens in a warzone? Honey Jane Wyatt and Megan Warren-Lister report

“You really experience such heightened emotions when you’re working in a warzone,” says photojournalist Ed Ram. While the job requires him to remain somewhat impartial, he deals with his internal confict by remaining dedicated to capturing his subjects’ stories. “If we don’t try to document what’s going on, it happens in the darkness,” he explains. It becomes clear that this sense of duty is one that’s shared by fellow photojournalist Heathcliff O’Malley, as the pair refects on the challenges of capturing the confict in Ukraine since it started last year.

Walking around Kyiv in the dusky evening light, coffee shops, bars, and restaurants are still open. It might be bustling with people now, but the city’s mandatory curfew will render the streets empty in a few hours’ time.

“Obviously there’s a war going on and people are having their lives turned upside down, but everyone’s walking around. It’s still a buzzing capital city,” says Ram, who has been in the country on assignments since Christmas Day.

Having worked across Ukraine intermittently since the war broke out – and fresh off an overnight sleeper train from rural battlegrounds in the east as we speak –Ram is aware of the deceptiveness of Kyiv’s apparent normality. This sense of duality recurs in other forms: for Ram and O’Malley, navigating journalism in a warzone is a task itself made up of constant conficts.

With 19,000 Ukrainian civilian casualties since the start of the war (according to data from the High Commissioner of Human Rights published in February 2023), reporting the atrocities of the confict is an inevitable part of the job. But in addition to the tragedy, the pair try to capture other elements of life in Ukraine. Reporting in an engaging, sensitive, and objective way may be an ongoing challenge, but O’Malley and Ram’s approaches have been refned through years of working in hostile environments.

O’Malley, who has worked for the Telegraph for more than 25 years, describes how quickly it became apparent that the confict in Ukraine was unlike any he’d covered before.

In September 2001, O’Malley was in New York photographing fashion week during the attack on the World Trade Centre and subsequently covered the War on Terror and the Yemeni civil war, among others. He describes the Russian attack against Ukraine as an ‘existential war’, more akin to WWII than other conficts he’s covered. “If we stop supporting Ukraine it will collapse,” explains O’Malley, which makes it diffcult for him to be objective. Ram, who has covered the Ukrainian war for outlets such as the BBC, the Guardian and the Washington Post, agrees

that this particular confict is extraordinary. Whilst he’s spent time in other warzones (recently, Mozambique’s Cabo Delgado confict), the war in Ukraine has made him question that war should be avoided at all costs. “It seems like the morally right thing to do is supply weapons to Ukraine, because what would be the consequences otherwise?” he asks, contemplating the extensive loss of life Ukraine has faced.

Politics aside, both O’Malley and Ram recognise that their role is to capture what’s going on without bias. “You need images coming from journalists to give an objective understanding,” Ram explains. Since March last year, data from Google Trends show that searches for the term ‘Ukraine war’ have fallen almost threefold. For Ram, the dropoff in engagement is a problem, but “it’s a challenge that journalists have to fght,” he says, adding, “if you’re not engaging audiences around something important, you’re not doing your job.”

As photojournalists, they battle the social media content that juxtaposes benign images with horrifc ones, contributing to a general sense of public news fatigue. Overcoming this requires creative storytelling, which, Ram explains, entails looking at the different ways the war impacts people. In an effort to capture humanity, Kenyan-based Ram recently worked with The Washington Post on a portrait project of Ukrainian citizens, exploring their feelings one year from the start of the war.

When they’re working on particularly tragic stories, both Ram and O’Malley feel responsible for capturing the injustices the people they meet face. Unfortunately, not all can be documented, especially when with a publication’s agenda and deadlines in mind.

O’Malley describes the decision-making process for what stories to pursue: “It might sound crass, but as a journalist you’re forced to decide when a good enough time to go back is, so that you can tell the stories newspapers are most likely to want to print.” Most often, this happens during periods with the most confict. “There’s no point in being somewhere and not getting the story used,” he says, which is a fact most journalists will have to come to terms with in their careers. But you don’t want to ask people to relive

traumatic situations and waste their time if the story isn’t going to end up being published.

This requires judgement calls about what to photograph. Ram was recently invited to attend a funeral in Pavlohrad, where a senior soldier who died fghting for Ukraine in the Donetsk region was being buried in an open casket. Initial wariness about capturing the scene soon gave way to a broader sense of duty. Describing his decision to take photographs of the 42-year-old’s face as he was laid to rest in his casket, Ram explains: “It’s important we show these sorts of things because if we don’t show blood and death, there’s a danger of people not understanding what a war is about.”

Witnessing the devastating impact of the confict makes objectivity diffcult. Ram says that with the Ukranian confict, the fact that there’s a “clear aggressor”, combined with the “unprovoked” nature of the invasion makes it “quite hard to remain neutral and

“Once you go, you become invested in it, you feel attached to it. You want to go back”

objective.” O’Malley says: “You try to be, but there’s so obviously a right and a wrong. It doesn’t mean that I’m there shooting propaganda, but you do take a side.”

For Ram too, whilst objectivity is the ideal, in practice, it’s diffcult. “By virtue of being in Ukraine and reporting from here, it’s going to be an unbalanced report,” he explains, adding that the amicable relationship between soldiers and journalists can alter one’s perspective. Though it can be an ongoing struggle, “just because you become attached to the story, doesn’t mean that you can’t be objective,” says O’Malley, who explains that he would never stage or direct the people he photographs to make them appear more heroic.

The human impact of confict is a key driver for Ram’s work. “You get to see people in a very raw state,” he says. In Kherson, O’Malley came across Andriy, Valeria, and their father, Alexander, on the platform of a railway station (pictured on page 58-59),

where they were escaping the city after their neighbour’s home was shelled during artillery barrages by Russian forces. Photographing people in such vulnerable situations, however, means balancing empathy with sources, meeting professional obligations, and protecting his own mental health. “I can’t speak for all photographers, but I fnd that really hard to do,” Ram explains. On one occasion in Kharkiv, this balance was brought sharply into focus. Invited into a family’s home, Ram was speaking to a child when he asked where their mother was. The child’s father called Ram into the hallway and explained that his wife was recently shot dead, though the son had not yet been made aware. “That was particularly striking – to be hanging out with this young boy who didn’t know his mum had died,” he says. But it’s these kinds of stories that fuel his journalistic sense of responsibility. “That’s what you’re there for, to get the most powerful stories to highlight the injustice of what’s going on.”

This balancing act between empathy and professional duty also applies to asking for consent. “The fact that you’re raising a camera could change the way somebody behaves,” O’Malley says. The fast pace of journalism in a warzone means that asking for consent is rarely possible. “You can’t go around asking everyone, ‘Can I take a photo of you?’ because then the moment’s gone,” says Ram. O’Malley agrees: if you had to ask every time, “there just wouldn’t be any journalism”. Refecting on times when he has, he says, “I shouldn’t have asked because they probably would have just let me.” Still, he veers on the side of caution and has often missed photos because he doesn’t want to disturb an intimate moment by asking.

If taking a photo is met with distress, Ram says he will always oblige with any deletion requests, and in reality, they’re a rarity. “It’s not like you’re hiding behind a bush, taking a photo and then running off,” he explains. His camera means his subjects are nearly

always aware of his role and mostly happy to have their stories shared, a sentiment that O’Malley echoes. “On the whole people are very kind, and in some ways grateful,” he explains. “They feel that we’re there for a reason, and it’s the right reason”.

While you might expect people going through tragedy to be wary of journalists at the scene, this is not the case in Ukraine. Scattered around Kyiv are posters expressing gratitude for journalists covering the war, O’Malley recalls.

‘Thank you journalists, your voices are weapons of the country,’ the posters read. Ram has also found that most citizens understand the media’s interest, and beyond this, “actively want the story to be covered”. Even in those moments that feel intrusive to ask to photograph, people are willing to have their stories documented. While in Kherson, O’Malley came across a son crying on his father’s shoulder as they said goodbye. Understanding this was a “deeply personal moment,” O’Malley asked them for their consent to be photographed, and they agreed.

Despite the fervour to tell the stories of civilians, after O’Malley’s previous monthlong trip, he’s not in any rush to go back.

On the road for weeks at a time with the same people can be intense, especially when the hunt for stories is so turbulent. While in Kharkiv, he and his team heard that Kherson was about to fall and travelled to be nearby. Another time, the team set off specifcally to Kryvyi Rih, a mining and steel town, after hearing that mining trucks were blocking roads from encroaching Russian forces.

Finding time to decompress is, understandably, an important aspect of the job. For Ram, who frequently travels up to 10km away from the military frontline on day trips, recharging his batteries – both those of his beloved Canon R5 and his own – is the only way he feels ready to do it again the next day. “It’s important to be slightly – I wouldn’t say disconnected – but know how to unplug,” explains Ram.

O’Malley agrees that switching off to some degree is essential. There are often air raid alarms going off, sometimes for no reason and others to warn of shellings nearby, so you have to condition yourself to ignore them, he explains. “If you get out of bed every time an alarm goes off, you won’t get any sleep at all and then you won’t be able to function.” Understandably, they have internalised what to do in order to survive,

both mentally and physically.

Because being in a warzone takes its toll, they don’t stay in Ukraine for longer than necessary. “It takes a while to adjust when you come home. Even though you come home, you probably don’t mentally come home for another week or so,” says O’Malley. “Once you go, you become invested in it, you feel attached to it. You want to go back and it does feel personal,” he explains. Whilst journalists can enter and exit the country as they please, Ukrainian men can’t leave the country at all, which, for O’Malley, is hard to think about. For this reason, he says, it’s civilians’ stories that deserve to be told, not theirs.

Reporting must continue despite diminishing public interest, says Ram. “You need to keep telling the story, even if it’s not as sexy.” But maintaining engagement is just one of many daily concerns and navigating warzone photography is about more than fnding the best shot. Although the complex decisions underlying their work are often concealed, for Ram, this refects the paradox of their photojournalism. “A photograph kind of says everything and nothing – you don’t know what’s happening around it, or what happened next, or before.”

First page: A soldier stands by as a 122mm missile is launched from a Mitsubishi truck during a Ukrainian recon mission targeting a makeshift Russian base on the Dnieper’s west bank, as they move towards the city of Kherson. Image by Ed Ram

Previous page: Andriy, Valeria, and their father Alexander at Kherson Railway station waiting for the evacuation train to leave for Kyiv after eight months of Russian occupation. Image by Heathcliff O’Malley.

Top right: Max (right) who commands a unit of 54 men, helps a fellow soldier operate a reconnaissance drone that will fy 1.5km high and assess the locations of Russian troops and hardware. Image by Ed Ram.

Middle right: In the ruins of a former asphalt factory 25km outside of Kyiv, reservists of the 130th Territorial Defence Battalion are trained by an NGO. Some carry their personal weapons whilse others make do with sticks or wooden cutouts of an assault rife. Image by Heathcliff O’Malley.

Below right: A destroyed BMP 2 at a former Russian base outside of Izium. Image by Heathcliff O’Malley.

Below left: Army chaplain and veteran Father Konstantin performs a burial service for Dimirtri Khomenko who was killed by a sniper’s bullet near Severodonetsk in the Krasnopilske cemetary, Dnipro, eastern Ukraine. Image by Heathcliff O’Malley.

How online sleuthing is changing the news game

Open-source intelligence is here to stay, write Amy McArdle and Lucy Sarret

Picture this: a newsroom buzzing with activity, reporters frantically typing away at their keyboards, phones ringing off the hook. But instead of relying solely on interviews and offcial statements, journalists are using a powerful new tool to uncover the truth: OSINT, or open-source intelligence.

What may sound like a daunting, fashy term is really just a way of harnessing the vast amounts of information available on the internet to uncover hidden stories and shed light on complex issues.

First used by American spy agencies, opensource intelligence has since trickled into investigative journalism. It consists of online information, available publicly for all to see, but that may seem insignifcant when not pieced together. In other words, you simply need to know where - and how - to look at it in order to understand the implications.

OSINT covers anything from reverseimage searching an unverifed picture to using Google Earth to pinpoint the location of a particular event captured on social media, which allows journalists to piece together a

complete picture of the world around us. Despite the asset this offers their skillset, open-source techniques are still relatively unknown by many journalists.

Jack Taylor, alumnus of the 2021 City MA Investigative Journalism course and now OSINT producer at Sky, explains he taught himself how to use open-source as a way of researching international news stories at a time where covid restricted travel. This made him a highly valuable member in the Sky newsroom when he joined in 2021.

Benjamin Strick, Director of Investigations for the Centre for Information Resilience and Bellingcat contributor, says of OSINT: “Anyone can learn the skills, it’s essentially spot-the-difference for adults.”

For those that learn, the results are nothing short of astounding. Thanks to OSINT, journalists are uncovering corruption, exposing human rights abuses, and holding those in power to account like never before. For example, Sky’s OSINT team has uncovered evidence supporting the claim Iran has been supplying ammunition to Russia’s war in Ukraine. But it’s not just

about breaking news - OSINT is also being used to tell deeper, more nuanced stories, and to give voice to those who have been ignored or marginalised.

Stories of Russian war crimes in Ukraine began to emerge quickly after the invasion. Taylor contributed to the investigation into these stories, which produced disturbing images of Bucha’s streets, showing nine bodies executed by Russian forces. Through geolocating satellite images, Taylor and his team were able to undermine previous claims by Russia that they withdrew days before these killings. Taylor’s work was subsequently used by Sky newsreader Mark Austin when interviewing Putin’s spokesman, Dmitry Peskov.

This is just one example of how open source journalism has been used to expose war crimes. For Strick, OSINT was essential in breaking the investigation he is most proud of. Having won the Peabody Award and several others for this story, his collaborative effort led to an entire government being caught in a lie and four murderers being jailed for their crimes.

When a video showing two women and two children held at gunpoint and shot 22 times by Cameroonian soldiers was posted on Twitter in July 2018, it quickly went viral. The story was vehemently denied by the country’s government, and the media cycle quickly lost interest. Despite this, Strick decided to investigate whether the video was, in fact, fake, or if innocent lives had been taken by soldiers, and covered up by a corrupt government.

It took about three months to authenticate the video. While this may seem long, Strike explains the viral nature of the video meant his team had to sift through reposts, comments, and reach out to users before fnding a lead.

Eventually, Strick and his team were told the video was shot in northwest Cameroon, which, while still a considerable large area to cover, gave some idea of where to look. On Google Earth, satellite images showed a mountain range that they were able to match up with the background of the video, and confrming it was, in fact, real.

“It’s a simple understanding of opensource”, he explains. “It really showed its strength by proving where, when, what, who on one single video. We were able to hold the guilty parties accountable. It was the frst thing I worked on from A to Z where a video found on social media led to an arrest.”

Gianluca Mezzofore, a 2011 City MA International Journalism graduate, now an investigative journalist for CNN, also made use of OSINT when he found the culprits behind the murder of Palestinian-American journalist Shireen Abu Akleh in May 2022.

While the Israeli government denied their involvement, Mezzofore and his team proved their guilt using OSINT. Content posted online proved essential to the investigation. Sound experts managed to pinpoint the exact location of the murder based on videos; a digital sundial was also used to determine, according to shadows, the exact time of the killing.

Tracing the source of information found online, such as digging through Twitter to fnd the original poster of a certain video or geolocating where a picture was taken via Google Earth, allows journalists to uncover the truths where surface-level information

may be conficting.

Strick admits he learnt his OSINT skills not in the feld of journalism, but in his previous military career working in mapping and geolocation. Although they may seem technical, he echoes Taylor’s insistence that they really are accessible to any aspiring journalist.

“It’s a very simple skill to pick up. People are often surprised that it’s just manual hours of digging and searching. There may be some smoke and mirror tricks, but most of it is being very meticulous. I fnd that a

saw the scene frst-hand.

OSINT has opened new opportunities for investigative journalism to substantiate claims and enhance news reporting. Taylor explains how open-source techniques, combined with traditional journalism, produce fresh narratives that would previously go unreported. “Open-source allows you to string all those bits of information together to form an irrefutable conclusion,” he says.

Open-source journalism has added a new dimension to news stories that previously went undiscovered. It has led to intersectional skills being used across the newsroom, developing stories at multiple levels.

lot of journalists have that digging instinct naturally, that obsessive mindset.”

OSINT has enhanced the way journalists approach news reporting, and this infuence is only set to increase with the investment newsrooms make in these teams. The future of journalism will undoubtedly be shaped by these honed skills and be an element in all investigative journalism to come. The global open source intelligence market is projected to reach $29.19 billion by 2026, almost six times the amount it was in 2018.

To illustrate this, Strick points to the shift from the coverage of the Iraq war from 2003 to 2011 to current news reporting.

During the confict, most of the reporting was presented by a Western journalist on the ground after a particular attack. The only information available to the public was that broadcast and published by news outlets.

Fast-forwarding merely a decade later, the digital age has given a platform to content showing what happens before, during, and after a particular event. Journalists can piece events by analysing social media posts, geolocating sources, and digging through Twitter to fnd potential interviewees who

OSINT has become a vital aspect of most newsrooms, as the ever-increasing digitization of information has transformed the way audiences - and journalists- get their information. Taylor describes how important the collaboration between teams is to reporting today. OSINT journalists like him support traditional reporters to elevate their stories, and produce original pieces. “I can’t do my job without their footage,” he says.

Training journalists is the frst step in maximising the potential of OSINT in the future of media. As Strick explains, many schools -- including City -- have implemented an introduction of opensource to their students, in order to hone their digital skills and make them more equipped to enter the professional world. He also points out that the newer generations seem to be particularly adept at using these data collection techniques.

“I’ve noticed more and more journalism students are becoming good OSINT journalists, because they’ve grown up using the internet. They have digital literacy skills that us ‘old hacks’ don’t have,” he said.

While an undeniable asset, Mezzofore insists that traditional investigating is far from obsolete.

“I still think we need to be careful not to take a deterministic approach. It’s a tool, and it can still be fallible. Talking to sources, context research and the more ‘traditional’ approaches are still essential to uncovering the real story, simply using open-sources is not enough to produce good journalism.”

“Open-source allows you to string all those bits of information together to form an irrefutable conclusion”

SEARCHING FOR CLIVE

Clive Myrie is everywhere. Do we know him any better for it?

Tom Flanagan and Kiran Duggal fnd out

Clive Myrie doesn’t have any enemies. At least none that he’s aware of. He smiles affably, surveying the view of London from the ffth foor of the BBC Broadcasting House.

“Hopefully,” chuckles the veteran BBC correspondent and host of Mastermind After almost an hour spent with him, there’s little reason to believe otherwise. For a man who has covered the invasion of Ukraine and spent much of the past year reporting from a nation under siege, he’s remarkably buoyant.

That could be experience talking. The 58-year old is a familiar face to anyone who has consumed BBC news in the past decade. Relied on for his clarity and unfappable calm, Myrie has reported on most major world events of the 21st century. He’s seen presidents impeached, regimes crumble and reigns topple, all while keeping his distinct sheen of professionalism. He’s graced primetime TV and moonlighted as celebrity; few of his contemporaries pivot between reporting on the invasion of Ukraine to being a guest on The Graham Norton Show alongside Daniel Craig. But after 30 years on the job, for one of Britain’s most recognisable journalistic voices and the poster child of the BBC, the question remains: who really is Clive Myrie?

Google his name and it’s a question that comes up in headlines over and over again. In fact, a quick search for the most-asked questions relating to Myrie are ones of the most basic kind: Where is Clive Myrie? Does Clive Myrie have a family? Why does Clive Myrie wear a scarf? He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Everyone knows his face, but they don’t know him much better for it, possibly a result of the impartiality mandated by his BBC career.

But on a bright winter’s day at the BBC Broadcasting House, he’s preparing to answer at least some of those questions; his family background, his ascendancy to chief correspondent at the BBC, racism and classism over the years and even his almost celebrity persona, though the scarf remains a mystery.

Myrie is dressed down, sporting a grey sweater and his signature chequered blue and green scarf; in a kind of disarming informality that belies his importance. Nicola Sturgeon has just resigned as First Minister of Scotland and he’s about to jet off to Edinburgh right after this conversation. Later this week, there’s a trip to Ukraine for the frst anniversary of the invasion. And only last week he announced his memoir as well as putting the fnal touches on a documentary travelogue series dubbed Clive Myrie’s Italian Road Trip. “The year’s only a month in but it feels like a hell of a lot has happened,” says Myrie.

For somebody so associated with the heavyweights of political journalism and war correspondency, an Italian travelogue series feels surprising. Perhaps that’s in part because of the perceived seriousness of the BBC; a sort of impenetrable veneer that leaves little space for a personality to foster. Yet Myrie says this work of travel journalism is as much a refection of who he is beyond the newsreader as it is a celebration of his journalistic career so far.

“I’m revisiting a lot of places I’ve worked in and it’s fantastic,” says Myrie. “I love opera and I go to the opera festival in Verona every year. But I’m also going to places I’ve reported from. Like Catania where I covered the migrant boat crisis in 2015-16. And Rome obviously, where I did a lot of reporting on the political machinations while as a Europe correspondent.” Myrie lists the destinations he’s reported

from with the BBC – Rome, Brussels, DC, Tokyo, Kyiv –which he joined back in 1987 as a trainee reporter for local radio. He’s been everywhere.

Once upon a time though, he was just a boy from Bolton. One of fve children, he was born to a Jamaican mother who worked as a seamstress for Mary Quant after immigrating to the UK as part of the Windrush Generation. Beyond remembering his mother’s work, one of Myrie’s earliest memories is feeling so sick with nerves about going to primary school that he ended up throwing up. But he managed. He later went to grammar school before heading to the University of Sussex to study law. Yet exams weren’t on his mind. Instead it was confict – specifcally the Falklands War in 1982- ironic for a man who would later end up reporting from nations under siege. “I had this fear that I’d be sent over and lots of young men my age, which was 17, would be sent because of conscription,” he says. There was no conscription in the end but it’s one of the memories that stayed with Myrie ahead of university. “All I remember was just being at school and being really worried that we were going to get dragged to the other side of the world.”

And dragged he was. Call it clairvoyance, call it fate, Myrie’s life has been one defned by confict – war and peace, the personal and the professional, being Black and the face of the BBC. His rise through the ranks as a young Black journalist – from BBC’s graduate scheme to radio in Bristol to foreign correspondent – is exactly the kind of fairytale story any workplace would want publicised.

As one of their frst Black broadcasters, Myrie has seen the BBC address its lack of diversity. He recalls how things have changed since his early days at work: “My development as a journalist, from being a student at University and getting into the business, has really coincided with a complete transformation of not just British society, but global society, in terms of the idea of diversity and what it means.

“There’s no question that when I joined the BBC, there were very few Black people and very few people of colour that represented and were refective of the times. Having a Black British foreign correspondent was never part of anyone’s plan. But as I’ve developed through this organisation, there has been this realisation not just within the BBC, but in wider society that that’s just not right.”

Things may have changed but journalism is still a whitewashed industry. According to the most recent poll of the industry, published by the National Council for the Training of Journalists (NCTJ), only about one in ten journalists are non-white. The numbers are higher for journalists in junior roles, however at an editorship level, there is less representation from non-white backgrounds. The BBC, Myrie explains, has higher than average numbers. Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic (BAME) make up 15 per cent of the workforce compared to approximately 18 per cent of the population of England and Wales; something he says people are often surprised to hear. Yet the BBC still has work to do.

“The BBC is funded by the licence fee that everyone pays, which means you’ve got to look as if you’re representing everyone and you have to substantively represent everyone,” says Myrie. “The idea that you’re only going to have white males broadcasting is just dumb. And the BBC fnally understands this – and that it represents an existential threat.”

While the BBC gets a rap for its perceived whiteness, Myrie is swift in coming to its defence. “I’ve been to universities to talk to students on journalism courses and a lot of them will say ‘Oh, no, I’m not joining the BBC. It’s white, it’s male and it’s stale, I’m going to Channel Four.’ What was interesting was that an audit of ethnic minority pay and representation at Channel Four showed it was way worse than the BBC.

“But there’s a perception that the BBC is not diverse. So, a lot of work is overcoming that perception. In order to do that you need to see the evidence of that on screen.”

That doesn’t mean it’s perfect. “We don’t have enough

“Having a Black British foreign correspondent was never part of anyone’s plan”

senior leaders in positions who are Black,” he explains. “So the BBC understands it’s got a long, long way to go. Because if people aren’t paying the licence fee, that means no BBC.

“But for people of colour and queer people, we’re getting a foot in the door now. There’s this idea that if you are white, male and straight it’s going to be interesting for you moving forward within a big organisation. There’s a sense that the privileges that you had, are now not going to be in your favour. People like us are fnally being heard.”

It’s not a case of virtue signalling and rewarding people based on ethnicity or identity though. “No person who’s queer, or Asian or Black should ever believe that they deserve to get something when they shouldn’t – you’ve got to be able to do the job. All your ideas, thoughts and abilities should be taken into account on the same level as everybody else. And it’s simply about levelling the playing feld. That’s all it is.”

The friendly face of the BBC, Myrie is a product of what happens when you actively seek to represent the diversity of the nation in journalism. His reach extends beyond just writing and broadcasting. Some might even consider him a celebrity. He doesn’t see himself as a star, just a regular guy. “I actually go to Waitrose and Sainsbury’s to shop,” he says. “People come up to me saying ‘I don’t recognise you without the suit’. Well, why would I be buying avocados in Waitrose in a suit?” He makes a good point and the image of Myrie in Waitrose reaching for avocados is a glimpse into his off-air persona, even if he’s quick to move onto more serious topics. So is this the real Myrie?

He laughs, shifts in his chair and folds his hands across his lap, a cloud of rectitude descending once more. It’s easy to get swept

up in Myrie’s natural gravitas even when there are glimmers of the person behind it. Especially when he speaks of the BBC. He exudes confdence and belief, notably in journalism as a honourable career, citing Ukraine as an example of that. Myrie after all, was the BBC’s on-theground reporter; providing audiences with unrivalled closeness to the action and a more personal portrait of his reporting style than his usual evening news slots.

“I was in Ukraine when the hotel was shaking from the explosions,” he says. “The sirens were going off and it was scary. But I felt it was important given the age of disinformation that we live in to try to be there, to give an objective idea of what the truth is.”

This, he says, is especially true when facing people like Putin. With journalists being targeted in Russia and elsewhere- 67 were killed last year according to the International Federation of Journalists- there is more duty on journalists to be the voice that can always be heard.

The BBC have traditonally faced criticism for their lack of stance on news but there are some

“I was in Ukraine when the hotel was shaking from the explosions. It was scary”

moments which Myrie believes warrant it. “Look at Putin’s nonsense of grievance over Poland joining the EU or Lithuania, or Latvia or Estonia,” he says animatedly. “He didn’t give a monkey’s about any of them. It’s Ukraine. Why? Because Ukraine, in his head, is part of Mother Russia. Ukraine is completely different. And that is how we have to report the story.”

But nobody is infallible. Not him and not the BBC, something he is quick to acknowledge. The BBC’s prestige as a neutral broadcaster has been tested in the past with its coverage of climate change where it fell into the trap of false equivalence by inviting climate crisis deniers alongside climate scientists. But it survived and better yet learned from accusations that its coverage was uncritical – or not critical enough. Something he hoped to refect in his coverage of Ukraine.

“The BBC was hauled over the coals for its climate coverage in the past and quite rightly,” says Myrie. “Those people who point to fault sequences in the BBC, sometimes they get it right. Sometimes they just don’t like hearing the opposing point of view, which is, I think, another point to make. But fundamentally, you try to give each argument in a debate the weight it deserves, and that’s called due impartiality.

“Ukraine is a classic example. False equivalence would be – Putin is worried about NATO moving closer to his border and that the Ukrainians might attack. Due impartiality is – he has illegally invaded a peaceful neighbour for no good reason. That is how we report this war. That is how the war should be covered. That is why I’m proud because we’ve been reporting the story on those terms.”

Myrie pauses and studies the BBC offce. There’s a lot of pride in his work, but he acknowledges that the BBC’s reporting has some way to go in other areas like class barriers in journalism. As the working class Bolton-bred boy, what does he think knowing that 80 per cent of journalists come from upper-class backgrounds? And possibly just as pressing, the statistic uncovered by social mobility charity the Sutton Trust, that a third of the UK’s top journalists hail from Oxbridge?

It’s a problem and a question he navigates deftly. “We may have improved diversity, when it comes to race, ethnicity, gender, but we still don’t have many working-class people getting into this trade, at the highest levels,” explains Myrie. “That class divide is present across all industries but it’s particularly visible in journalism. It’s worse in some areas like print which are private entities who are not beholden to the public in the same way public service broadcasters like the BBC and ITV are. The papers are too busy looking at the Petronellas and Luciens.”

He laughs and ficks a knowing glance, “Not that there’s anything wrong with those names of course.” The kind of refexive diplomacy you’d expect from a BBC-trained journalist but a glimpse of more unvarnished opinions. Getting those isn’t easy. He’s both deeply

personal as an interviewee and simultaneously a bit unknowable, like a colleague you see every day but don’t know anything about. He’s married but we only know that from sparse coverage of his life –he met his wife Catherine, who works as a furniture upholsterer, at a book launch on Swiss cheese – and because he says his most treasured possession is his wedding ring. Kids aren’t mentioned, not that they need to be, nor is anything like how his mental health fared while reporting from Ukraine.

Get him on the big issues, like class in journalism and he starts talking, even if he doesn’t always have the answer. He might be the voice of reason for news but he acknowledges that broadening the socio-economic status of journalists can’t be solved quickly. It is something we have to keep talking about – increasingly and loudly. “Nine times out of 10, if you sit down and explain to someone why diversity is important, they get it. But taking the time to talk to people, regardless of your viewpoints, and explaining to people what a situation is, well that’s revelatory.”

He leans forward and clasps his hands, like a storyteller well aware of their power and rapt audience, as he fits to anecdotes of him on the bus and the conversations he’s overheard on the state of journalism today. Myrie might report on news at the most macro level but he’s always observing what’s around him and what’s being talked about on the ground. “I had this amazing experience the other day when I was sitting on the bus and listening to these boys talk about a Czech footballer who’d just come out as gay,” he explains, a massive Manchester City fan, his interest was piqued. “One boy didn’t understand why the man still had to come out in this day and age and I wanted to turn around to him and say: ‘It would be so great if everyone thought the way you did, but they don’t.’ And that’s why we need to talk about things, especially to Gen Z who believe everybody is born equal.”

Myrie takes a breath. The gusto and conviction still lingering. Even when he says all this, he does it carefully, sensitively and always with clarity. This is possibly why, when he’s not reporting from confict zones, he makes such a good game show host. He’s always guiding, always polished and always comfortable. How many journalists can say the same thing?

He is ever-present. Perhaps that’s why we trust him. Myrie is on the ground, in our living rooms and on our phone screens. Do we know him any better because of that?

“The thing about being a news presenter is people think they know you because they see you everywhere. On the six o’clock news, the ten o’clock news, Mastermind. In many ways it’s wonderful,” says Myrie. “But it’s only a sliver of who I am. History will look back on these programmes and I’m happy for them to see me as just a guy, reading out loud. And what’s different about me than any other guy doing the same? Well, everything.”

BBC/William Cherry/Press Eye

True : leave it to the experts?

Alex Berry investigates why amateur sleuths pose a threat to trained crime reporters

From Making a Murderer to Cold Case Files, true crime has never been more popular. Alongside the content boom is a parallel rise in amateur sleuths, using social media as a space to theorise.

But is the fascination with true crime, and amateur investigators, a cause for concern? Where does it leave professional crime writers and investigative journalists?

According to a YouGov poll in 2022, one in three Americans say they consume true crime content at least once a week, and this growth is refected globally. A study by the University of Derby found that the frst series of true crime podcast, Serial, has been downloaded over 211 million times.

With the sheer amount of content out there, it’s no surprise that individuals are becoming familiar with typical patterns of certain crimes - learning more about how detectives work, and feeling empowered to self-publish their theories and opinions.

The search for Nicola Bulley is just one recent example. The 45-year-old went missing in January in Lancashire near the River Wyre. Bulley was missing for about three weeks, causing a media storm as well as a sea of conspiracies.

Some TikTok users posted CCTV footage, claiming to have spotted unidentifed potential suspects, with one video captioned: ‘Wake up people. This is a murder enquiry!’

When Bulley’s body was later found, some individuals pretended to be journalists, and tried to take photographs. This led to the arrest of one man on suspicion of malicious communications offences and perverting the course of justice.

Caroline Watson, head of Journalism and Communications at the University of Sunderland, says: “These amateur sleuths armed with smart phones are not police offcers, nor are they what I would defne as journalists. Worryingly, the mainstream media is becoming increasingly confused with social media users who play fast and loose with the law and ethics.”

Journalist, flmmaker and podcast host

Geoffrey Wansell has been producing true crime content over the last decade. He has written 12 books, including a biography of serial killer Fred West, and a book on the murderer of 13-year-old Milly Dowler. Wansell says: “We’ve got to the stage where everyone sees themselves as a potential detective or a potential reporter.”

The possible consequences of amateur sleuthing became clear in the case of the University of Idaho murders that took place in November 2022, resulting in the deaths of four students. Self-proclaimed ‘experts’ and enthusiasts took to TikTok with various theories.

This resulted in one professor fling a defamation lawsuit against a creator, who she claims implied her involvement in the murders – causing her to experience distress and fear for her family’s safety.

The saturation of the industry means there is a major risk of misinformation, sensationalism and panic.

Wansell argues that in investigations, accuracy and fact-checking is vital. “The basic tenets of being a good reporter absolutely apply to true crime. You have to be objective, careful and respectful of the victims and their families.”

This is problematised within crime discourse, where so many people are able to share ideas and claim them as ‘truth’.

The increasing role of social media in the news cycle could jeopardise the position of investigative journalists as a result. There are also limited regulations around the creation and publication of true crime content, save for general reporting restrictions and professional ethical codes.

Discussing his biography of West, Wansell says: “The police were very concerned about it, lest I make it impossible for Rose (West’s former spouse and crime partner) to get a fair trial. So I had to sign non-disclosure agreements. It seemed to me perfectly respectable that I should be prohibited from doing anything that might prevent her from having a proper trial.” This type of caution is seldom exercised with online

content creators, making the surge of citizen journalists more problematic.

Investigative journalist Donal MacIntyre, who has written for several major newspapers and hosted his own crime examination series, Murder Files, says: “The mainstream broadcasters are gatekeepers for accuracy, standards and ethical compliance –constraints which don’t apply to independent content providers.” This, he explains, “can provide a vehicle for inaccurate and misleading content.”

However, MacIntyre also appreciates the impact of “citizen journalism”, explaining that “the audience has grown with the output and... craves diverse and alternative opinions on crime and criminality.”

He adds: “The wonderful thing about journalism is that there is no legal qualifcation required to be one. Strands like citizen journalism and independent producers have raised the quality and diversity of content, and I am sure that it will continue to do so.”

MacIntyre believes that the reception of audiences could also play a key role in minimising the problems associated with true crime content. Audiences are able to distinguish between mainstream broadcasters and potentially misleading independent content, he explains. “Most consumers can discern the difference, in my opinion.”

Protecting victims, and their networks of families and friends, is something that Wansell sees as particularly important within the realm of true crime entertainment. “We tend to glamourise the perpetrators, and underestimate the impact that their actions have on the lives of ordinary people who never asked to suffer this sort of pain,” he says.

So, is professional reporting and investigative journalism really under threat when it comes to crime? MacIntyre is optimistic.

“I think the future is bright. Commentators have been prophesizing the demise of investigative journalism since the creation of ITV in 1955. The sky did not fall in then on quality programming, and it won’t now.”

PARI’s series Lost on the island, and then found or forgotten captured by Ritayan Mukherjee

PALAGUMMI SAINATH

India’s father of rural journalism on “never shutting up“

Words by Sharnya Rajesh

Maharashtra is India’s wealthiest state. It’s bigger than the UK. Its capital, Mumbai, is the nation’s largest city and fnancial centre, and its dusty countryside is a powerhouse of Indian cotton production. But since 1995, due to a combination of drought, crop failure, debt, and corruption, these rural areas have also seen an epidemic of farmer suicides.

In 2006, during the worst week of the crisis, the region of Vidarbha was seeing cotton farmers take their lives at a rate of about one every four hours. Less than an hour’s fight away in Mumbai, the cotton they were growing was on full display as the city hosted Lakmé Fashion Week, one of the biggest fashion events in India. The show was covered by over 500 journalists for a full seven days, and another 100 using day passes.

Meanwhile, just six journalists were in Vidarbha reporting on the suicides. Two stayed longer than planned, but only because they missed their return fights. Only one wrote about it for India’s second-most circulated English language paper, the Hindu. His name was Palagummi Sainath.

Sainath continued to write a news series on India’s agrarian crisis for the Hindu that nudged the world to sit up and take notice. His coverage of the farmers’ suicides in 2006 earned him the Magsaysay Award in 2007 and later the World Media Summit Global Award for Excellence. Over a career spanning four decades, he has tracked other national problems, from migration, India’s ill-equipped healthcare system, dangerous abortions, child marriages, the climate crisis and class issues - to caste wars.

The 65-year-old, who has been nicknamed ‘the father of rural journalism in India’, was the frst Indian reporter to win the European Commission’s Lorenzo Natali Media Prize in 1995. In 2000, he won the inaugural Amnesty International Global Award for Human Rights Journalism. The same year, he was awarded the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organisation’s Boerma Prize.

Over the course of his journalistic career, Sainath has collected over 60 global and national awards in total; most recently the Fukuoka Prize in 2021. He has also turned down several, including one of India’s highest civilian awards, the Padma Bhushan, which he declined because in his view, “journalists shouldn’t be receiving awards from governments they cover and critique.” He has taught at various universities, including Iowa, Princeton, Trinity and the University of

California in Berkeley. Today, seated upright on a wired, iron chair, in a study lit by a white tube light, even when speaking via Zoom, Sainath exudes calmness, and is exceptionally articulate despite covering harrowing subject matter.

He speaks in a British-infected accent; one that marks the Indian elite of his generation. A charismatic, erudite man with a messy mop of silver curls, Sainath is not what you might imagine a rural journalist to be. Based in metropolitan Mumbai, he was born in Chennai (formerly Madras), with generational roots in the Eastern shores of India in Andhra Pradesh, where his grandfather, Varahagiri Venkata Giri, the fourth President of India, hailed from.

His early career path was conventional. In 1983, Sainath dropped his MPhil PhD from the Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi to work as a journalist with the United News of India agency. But this all changed in 1984, when he moved to a family-owned political paper from Bombay called Blitz, and was sent to collect stories from farmers affected by a major drought. Every story he picked up suggested that the drought was a man-made crisis fueled by inconsiderate government policies. But the stories he fled failed to capture the realities of what was happening on the feld.

“I covered the event in the most typical manner. Very ‘prime minister said-here-today’, kind of journalism. And I won a few prizes for it which I never collected because I was so ashamed about how I’d covered this crisis,” he says.

That was his turning point. “I went back to do it differently. I let the people do the talking this time. I give the problems in their world, their words. My contribution to it is just giving it some context, a link, a connection, a database and pulling it together with some perspective,” he recalls. Sainath applied for a journalism fellowship so that could fund his travel to 10 districts in rural India. He went bankrupt after covering just two and sold his cameras to stay afoat.

“In the end, I’d done 19 districts. Over 100,000 kilometres, mostly on foot,” he says.

His sojourns were documented in a series of newspaper articles written primarily for the Hindu which were later accumulated and compiled to become his frst book, Everybody Loves a Good Drought. The stories intimately captured the complexity of rural India. Not in dry statistics, but through writing, that made the characters of the story recognisable. Each story is detailed. The work, the activity, the culture,

the histories, the troubles and the joys are narrated by “the livesof of these people as entry points. Entry points to a much larger issue. Telling it through them means authenticity,” he explains.

While the stories focus on the suicides, they also examine the reasons behind them, like the diffculties associated with acquiring agricultural credit from banks and lack of government support.

Sainath estimates he spends an average of 270 days each year in the villages and rural districts of India. Since the frst drought he covered, he’s been fascinated by the resilience of India’s farmers and forest dwellers.

In India, 65 per cent of the population live in what are called rural areas. The latest Socio-Economic Caste Census (SECC) revealed 75 per cent of rural households in India have a monthly income of less than £50.65. About half of the households make a living from manual labour, and 28 per cent (over 50 million) of households do not have mobile phones or any form of communication.

There are professions within the industry known only to a fewlike toddy-tappers in the Southern-state of Tamil Nadu, who climb palm trees to make molasses called jaggery, or fermented liquor called toddy. When in season, these farmers climb at least 50 trees per day, each one thrice. They climb close to 1500 metres daily, the equivalent of more than three times the height of the Empire State Building, knowing a single fall could kill or cripple them.

Devoid of any systemic record, unique stories of India’s countryside, like those of toddy-tappers in Tamil Nadu, could be lost.

“There is a growing economic gulf between mass media and mass reality,” Sainath says. The urban world is steadily shedding its links with the voices of rural India. Both provoked by that gap and determined to bridge it, in December of 2014, Sainath founded PARI – the People’s Archive of Rural India.

“PARI, simply put, is the everyday lives of everyday people. It is a contemporary journal and an archive. Above all, it is about telling stories through the lives, lived experiences and voices of the people,” he says.

Today, PARI is an encyclopaedic, volunteer-driven archive of rural India, digitising the faces and cultures of its fast-changing world. The archive is as much a resource as a weapon. It not only documents the great beauty of the countryside being destroyed, but also the rural India that remains obnoxious, inhuman and deserves to be destroyed – like the areas that feature caste-driven untouchability, and atrocities against women.

PARI has covered 25 regions of the country. From fsherwomen on the south-western coast who have been drowning in debt since the 2020 ban on seine fshing (an effcient method that involves low levels of accidental bycatch), signifcantly shrinking their businesses; to the pastoral nomads in the Himalayan passes who rear sheep to make cashmere sweaters, and whose pastures are being fenced by the military and for tourism - threatening their way of life.

Sainath’s storytelling emerges as a byproduct of the way he immerses himself in topics that especially interest him. Topics like the ones above. “The agrarian crisis took me to six states as I attempted to follow the issue. But eventually, it all boiled down to inequality. And inequality manifests in various terms,” he says.

The archive also plays a vital role in giving India’s diverse population access to articles in a variety of languages. About 780 different languages and 86 different scripts are spoken and used in India, with the majority of these used by people in rural areas. However, the Indian constitution lists only 22 languages whose development the government is obliged to promote. There are states whose offcial languages fall outside those 22, like Khasi and Garo of Meghalaya.

PARI works with a volunteer pool of 170 translators and strives to ensure parity among languages. English is their default language, but not the privileged one. Sainath proudly claims that PARI “are the largest single translations journalism website in the world, publishing every single story in 14 languages.”

But languages aren’t the only barriers to fnding stories. The hardest thing is often winning people’s trust.

Journalism by defnition is intrusive. Photography, even more so. “When I enter some poor woman’s home and ask her how much her husband spends on alcohol, why the hell should she tell me?,” he asks. “There must be a good reason for them to trust you, therefore frst networking with someone who has a standing in that community helps. I spend a lot of time staying in the homes of the communities that I’m writing about. It’s also a way of building credibility.”

While writing his book, Sainath spent at least two months in each of the 19 regions he covered. Sometimes he’d keep luggage like his typewriter in little lodges on the outskirts of the towns and villages he was covering, but Sainath himself would often stay in the homes of his subjects.

Miles and miles of India remain untouched. Numerous stories are yet to be told. Aeons of history is waiting to be narrated by the women singing in unison while hand-tilling felds in Maharashtra; generational Khalasi men who launch their heavy ships into the sea without forklifts or cranes; by rural Indians themselves – sharing a world we mostly fail or occasionally refuse to see.

Sainath’s PARI grants primary credit to those who are depicted in the archive, the rural people themselves, rather than the writers or flmmakers who document them.

“Ours is a people’s archive. It can’t lead to dispossession. That’s why we stay clear of any government funding or corporate sponsorship.”

Maintaining independence is a core part of the organisation’s mandate, and associating with corporations will destroy the soul of what PARI stands for, Sainath explains.

“We sell our labour, not our soul,” he says. “The struggle is to keep your soul in a corporate-dominated media. You end up practising what I call ‘guerrilla journalism’ – when they burn one forest, you run to the next.”

But rather than deterring him, it underlies his sense of purpose. “The duty of every citizen in a democracy is to never shut up. That’s a good defnition of the duties of a decent journalist and reporter.”

P. Sainath captures Tamil Nadu’s toddy tappers

The New Journalism at 50

Half a century on from its publication, Killian Faith-Kelly and Dani Clarke talk to British journalists about the legacy of Tom Wolfe’s seminal anthology

Tom Lamont has written 3,000 words on George Clooney, 3,500 on Harry Styles and 6,000 on a butcher in Derbyshire called Frank. Common among all of them are a few things not so common in British feature journalism. Length, for one, but also a fair for idiosyncratic lyricism and wit. Ultimately, a style.

That’s what he says he learned from The New Journalism. The work within the 1973 anthology was defned by its author as united by a use of scenes, symbolic detail, thirdperson narratives and passages of dialogue. Reading it, Lamont suddenly felt “that there didn’t have to be this great boundary between the techniques of fction and narrative nonfction. That each could borrow from the other. And that a good piece of nonfction could contain all of the fgurative writing, the theme-building, the character dynamics that you might expect to fnd in fction.”

Such things frst came his way on the Christmas break of his master’s at City, which he spent on Guy Dimond’s food

desk at Time Out. Dimond printed out and instructed Lamont to read something that mesmerised and baffed him, with “the way it kept going on, and deeper, and on, and deeper” inconsistently from the British journalistic diet he’d consisted on thus far. It was a piece from The Atlantic about a wine critic, and what it was doing, Lamont now realises, had a name – longform journalism.

Soon after that, Simon Kurs – now commercial editor at the Evening Standard, at the time a student alongside Tom – made a throwaway joke. It referenced Gay Talese’s “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” , the seminal piece that appeared in a 1966 edition of Esquire, and changed celebrity profle writing forever.

After nodding along knowingly without a clue what Kurs was talking about, Lamont rushed off to read the piece and thought: “Oh hell yeah. If that can be journalism, I wanna do that part. I wanna play on that team.” It’s not an uncommon reaction to the piece. “He created a genre there,” says Lamont, “and God bless him for it, because

I’ve worked in that genre and I’ve loved that genre and I’ve read an awful lot of it.”

The word that keeps coming up when Lamont describes what he got – what he gets (there’s a Talese collection in his hand as we speak) – from reading Talese is permission. “You realise that experimentation is allowed, line blurring is allowed –- different tenses, different points of view, multiple points of view.”

After taking this permission and running with it, quite successfully, for a few years, Lamont found himself on assignment in New York and decided he’d send his hero a message. See if he’d be up for a chat. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, he’ll never know, because the worst didn’t happen. They met at Talese’s offce, then went back to his fat, and in the hours they spent there Lamont saw several other writers being mentored by the great legend drop in and out. He was thrilled.

He also saw a peculiar collection of

Poppy Burton

Gay Talese (left), Joan Didion

pages pinned to a noticeboard on the wall. The reason, of course, was that Talese’s latest way of getting a fresh perspective on his copy was to read it through binoculars from the other side of the room.

Lamont says he came away from that day with a sense of someone who really, really wants to tell the story as visually and as novelistically as he can.

“I’ve always tried to write in a way that’s more colourful and zingy than news prose,” he says. “The novelistic fourishes in other people’s work never irritate me or strike me as extraneous – I love them. A lot of editors think of it as writerly self-indulgence, and they probably have a point, but it’s all taste, isn’t it? It’s what your tolerance for it is.

I’m totally comfortable with my nonfction tasting of fction sometimes.”

Lamont is keen to stress, however, that anything published as journalism must retain that small but rather fundamental quality of actually being true –- and this isn’t a standard the New Journalists always met.

Oli Franklin-Wallis, features editor at GQ, recognises as much of one of his writing heroes, Michael Herr. Herr’s Vietnam wardefning Dispatches, excerpted in The New Journalism, was largely true, but not entirely –- he later said that the work shouldn’t be considered journalism because he’d invented some of the characters as composites of various people he met during his reporting. What Franklin-Wallis took from reading Dispatches though, was not its reporting, but its voice. “This is what journalism can sound like. It doesn’t quite sound like anything being published today,” he says. “It has a lyricism and a confdence and a combative energy all of its own.”

He shares Lamont’s adoration for the “literary sensibility” of New Journalism. In Herr’s case specifcally, he thinks the extreme drama of war may have “prompted New Journalists to try everything on the page, in order to get it across.”

“The way they would treat characters as three-dimensional human beings, with wants and needs and emotions. If you compare what someone like Herr was writing in Dispatches or John Hersey in Hiroshima with what newspapers were producing at the time, they are wildly different. It’s just deeply human. It makes you feel the experience of being there. There’s visceral honesty to it that, I think, really resonates with people.”

It’s a willingness to take risks that FranklinWallis thinks is lacking in

contemporary British journalism. Partly he attributes that to an editorial prioritisation of trend-chasing over investment in good writing. But the more “buttoned-up sensibility” of British journalism and culture more broadly has a role to play too, he believes.

Freelance journalist and co-host of the Always Take Notes podcast, Simon Akam,

agrees. He is a Brit who primarily works in the UK but who went to journalism school in the US, and attributes the relative success of longform journalism there to the fact that “Americans dare to take themselves seriously and try really hard.” Brits are more adverse to admissions of effort, which Akam thinks limits their willingness to engage in the “stylistic pyrotechnics” of New Journalism.

This is despite the journalistic essay actually being an arguably British tradition that owes as much to Dickens and Orwell as The New Yorker. So how do we get it back? There is some cause for hope –- the Guardian Long Read and 1843 are giving longform writing a chance in the UK, and with some more steps in their direction, who knows? What aspiring longform writers can do to make this happen, Akam says, is “to decide that you really want to have a go at this. And then you have to give yourself permission to really have that go at it. Because it’s hard, but it’s not impossible.”

As for the editing side, Franklin-Wallis would like to see “a universal commitment to the very simple but timeless premise that really good writing and really good reporting is what people come to magazines and newspapers for, and that they don’t come for algorithm-chasing or search queries.”

Kat Lister is a freelance longform journalist preoccupied with many of the same aspects of New Journalism that draw Lamont and Franklin-Wallis to the genre –the detail, the storytelling, and the innovative style. But for Lister, one writer in Tom Wolfe’s seminal collection stands out. A writer who, like Lister, is acclaimed for her immersive memoir writing: Joan Didion.

Like Didion, Lister is sometimes confned by the misconception that writing about herself is all she can do. “People talk about my writing as though I bash out a memoir every week, but I don’t,” says Lister. “It has to be very particular, it’s never just about something that happened to me.”

Beginning her career on the news desk of the male-dominated NME, Lister felt a kinship with Didion, one of the only female journalists in Wolfe’s book. “I was one of the few women in that offce,” Lister says. “I wasn’t given a lot of opportunities and I didn’t have the confdence to just break the

“I’m totally comfortable with my nonfction tasting of fction sometimes”

Poppy Burton

HarperCollins

Michael

Herr (pictured)

door down. So I didn’t. And I ended up not writing for many years after that.”

Lister’s frst memoir came about as a result of tragic circumstances. When her husband passed away in 2018, she started writing in what she calls a “radically different way”.

Writing about grief was what drew Lister closer to Didion. “I read The Year of Magical Thinking and I was incredibly inspired by how she was able to report on the front lines of her grief,” she says. “Her personality is all over that book but she’s not actually in it. I’m still trying to fgure out how the hell she did that.”

Although she had read The New Journalism collection prior to this, she felt a barrier between herself and most of the writers. “I didn’t see my identity refected in the authors that were celebrated,” says Lister. “It’s stark to me that it’s such a machismo area.” Lister suggests there were likely many more women than Didion at the time doing the same thing, but they weren’t heralded in the same way.

mindsets are different ... more widescreen,” she says. “Short form is so restrictive. Even the most professional UK writers have this beautiful rhythm and then the piece abruptly ends because they’ve run out of words.”

Lister says: “What I take from Didion is her gaze. Her very uncompromising, direct gaze. She’s got this fne scalpel and every word counts. I wouldn’t say I’m at that level. But that sharpness, that’s what I hope to achieve in my writing.”

in their car’. I’m just thinking, I couldn’t do that,” she says. “But I read something Didion wrote about how it can be useful to seem less intimidating and shy even, because people being off their guard is actually a good thing.”

“I think there are some phenomenal examples of New Journalism,” Lister says. “I also think there are some not so great examples. Writers had so much time and space to write a single piece back then, which allowed them to get all those textures and colours and nuggets of observation. We’ve lost that in this country, which is incredibly sad. But, on the fipside, there was so much freedom that at times some of those pieces could do with a bit more editing.”

Longform journalism is less popular in the UK than the US, according to Lister, and it’s also not paid as well as it should be: “I think there’s more space for longform in the US because the landscape is different, so their

For Imogen West-Knights, an awardwinning freelance journalist, the way to get into longform writing is to make yourself “indispensable to the story”. With her unusual life experiences and niche portfolio, she is an avid follower of her own advice. Directing a production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in a Beijing high school, and living in Sweden were the events that inspired her frst two longform features.

Things really got going, though, when West-Knights wrote a long read for The Guardian about the unsolved murder of the Swedish prime minister, a piece she secured because of her hyper-specifc knowledge and crime reporting contacts in Sweden.

But despite many changes in journalism since the 1960s, longform is still a bit of a “boys’ club”, according to West-Knights. It’s no wonder then that, like Lister, she identifes Didion as the New Journalist who inspires her work the most. “It’s her tone. She’s not trying to make you laugh, it’s more like sharing a smile across a table about something someone else is saying,” she says. “Also she’s a woman. I’ve found it interesting being a woman trying to do indepth reporting because people respond to you differently, especially if you’re young. I look young and I always have.”

She does. With her tomboyish hair and freckles, it’s not hard to imagine the kind of responses West-Knights might elicit when she goes poking around for stories about high profle Swedish crimes.

“I always get a bit jealous when I hear about male friends who do this work, being like, ‘I was in a bar in Lebanon and some guys invited me to a party and we all got

“There are great female longform journalists out there, but the people held up as heroes of the form do tend to be men,” she continues. “Lots of longform is being able to follow your nose. As a woman, you have to follow your nose with the caveat of, ‘Don’t get murdered’.”

Another limitation West-Knights witnesses parallels Lister’s reasoning. “The amount of time it takes costs money. In the US, they have more money to put behind it than here,” says West-Knights. “There’s also a sh*tty culture of press access. You’re expected to do a 45-minute phoner and then write an interesting profle of a celebrity. In the US, they sometimes spend weeks with the person they’re profling. It’s why more and more UK journalists are working over there now.” It’s also why West-Knights herself increasingly writes for publications like The New York Times and Slate

“What I like about longform, and New Journalism, is the level of detail,” she says. “It’s what brings Didion’s pieces alive – the particular food on a train, the colour of the curtains, the way the light is hitting something at a particular moment.”

West-Knights says she’s most interested in what obsesses people. “A friend of mine described my job recently as a ‘weird vibes correspondent’.” When someone is doing something that seems unusual to other people, she likes to investigate what drives them to do that. “‘Why are people so f*cking weird?’ That’s the question I’m trying to answer, but not in a ‘look at these freaks’ kind of way.” She approaches her subjects, even the most superfcially bizarre, with empathy.

“I’m not interested in topics, I’m more interested in telling stories,” she says. Perhaps unconsciously, her fnal phrase is evocative of the opening line of Didion’s iconic essay, ‘The White Album’. “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

“What I take from Didion is her gaze. Her very uncompromising, direct gaze”

Imogen West-Knights (pictured)

Kat Lister (pictured)

Lynsey Hooper is a sports presenter and broadcaster with over 15 years of television and radio experience. She’s worked as a reporter for Sky Sports Women’s Super League coverage, presented for BBC, ITV, BT Sport and ESPN, as well as reporting on two Olympic Games, four World Cups, and a European Championship.

If that wasn’t enough to convince you that Hooper is an expert in the sports media industry, she’s also the co-founder and host of The Offside Rule, an award-winning football podcast that has forged a unique path for women in sports journalism. Hooper spoke to XCity about what it’s like to be a woman in sports journalism in 2023.

Have you always loved football?

“I grew up in the West Midlands in a very working class background. It’s been my bread and butter growing up. I did have a footballobsessed grandfather and uncle, so I think that rubbed off on me. Very early on, I had the option of doing the weekly shop and going to Sainsbury’s with my mum or dad, or sitting with my grandad, and writing down all the football scores for him – and that’s what I wanted to do.”

How did people react to your love of football when you were growing up?

“I used to go to a pub with my friend to watch football all the time.

I’ve been onjudged what I look like

Lynsey Hooper on being a woman in sports journalism in 2023

By Megan Geall

I remember being stood with one of my best mates at the time, who was male, and we were watching England and talking about them. I remember some lads behind us tapped him on the shoulder and said: “She knows what she’s talking about, don’t she?” They weren’t speaking to me, but speaking to him about me.”

Have you experienced sexism in a professional sense?

“I’ve defnitely been judged on what I look like more than what I know, which doesn’t happen to men. That was a big thing when I was in my mid-to-late twenties.

I think the industry is starting to change its stance. I don’t think it’s perfect and I don’t think it’s gone completely.

I’ve had a couple of very horrible experiences that I feel really could have altered my career. I didn’t even realise that in my mid-thirties I would be deemed too old for the place I was working. They replaced [me and a colleague] with women 10 years younger, but they didn’t replace the men.

I lost out on a job to someone from fashion television. They used to say to me: ‘have you thought about doing something with your hair?’ For me, it was clear that my knowledge did not weigh as much as what my look did, and she looked incredible but she didn’t know anything [about football].

We still have a big problem with women ageing, as well as acknowledging women as experts in male dominated

areas. But amongst all of that, I have to say that without the male allies, and without the men that were brilliant to me, I probably still wouldn’t be working either. It certainly hasn’t been an easy path.”

What kind of criticism have you received? Have you ever experienced sexist comments from fans?

“I haven’t done too badly, to be honest. I know people that have had much worse. But what you’ve got to remember is I’ve done 20 years in football. I’ve done podcasts and I’ve done a lot of things that show my opinion and that I can back up what I say.

When you say you do the job that you do, people go: ‘So do you like football then?’ and I’m like ‘Oh God, do you really think I could do this for 20 years if I didn’t?’ There is going to be something about the male ego that won’t like that I know more [about football] then they do, and that will be it for some men.”

What changes need to be made to further the rise in female pundits and get more women on screen?

“Actually, I don’t want to generalise too much, but I think we have a lot of women that want to do broadcast or social media, but we don’t have many that want to do print or other jobs in the industry. Now, why is that? Are [print jobs] not as glamorous?

Part of the other problem in the industry at the moment is that we’re trying to replace journalists with social media infuencers. Journalism should never be replaced by that, they should coexist.

I want to see more women coming through [local journalism] just because it makes you better, whether it be journalist, presenter, broadcaster, wherever you end up going, and doing those vital bits of experience, they shape you. I’ve had a long process of getting to where I am now. But I wouldn’t change those years, because I think it made me better at what I do.”

How important has podcasting been in giving you a platform as a female sports journalist?

“When we started it, it was born out of the frustration of not being allowed to have enough of an opinion. There wasn’t anywhere where women were saying, ‘oh, I thought they played better with a back three instead of a back four’, so I think it’s been crucial in promoting women in having a voice and justifying our positions in the media.”

If you could describe your career as a female sports presenter in three words what would they be?

“Gutsy. Sacrifce. Relentless.”

What advice would you give to a new journalist or sports pundit?

“Be persistent. You’re gonna get some knockbacks. But you need to make sure that you stay focused on what you want to do.”

The Class Ceiling: Journalism’s blindbiggest spot

Maira Butt and Poppy Burton explore the culture of exclusivity that conspires against working-class journalists

By nature, journalists are tired. While burning the midnight oil might be part and parcel of the job, there’s a set of journalists who were tired long before the oil was burning. For them, getting the job in the frst place proved the most tiring work. And recent fgures indicate the problem is getting worse. Last year, the NCTJ revealed over 80 per cent of journalists come from professional or upper-class backgrounds, compared to 42 per cent of the population, meaning working-class representation is at an all-time low. The report also found that social class was the only factor with increasing inequality over time. Not only has the amount of working-class journalists declined, but the numbers from higher socioeconomic backgrounds have actively risen by eight percentage points since 2016.

The sheer level of exclusivity is hard to imagine for well-intentioned journalists increasingly covering issues of equity and diversity, yet the bottlenecks of wealth and class privilege in the media may explain why journalism is such a daunting profession to enter. For Jamie Fahey, production editor and writer at The Guardian, it’s a profession that seems increasingly hard to reach for workingclass people. Raised in Liverpool during the Thatcher years, Fahey grew up in a jobless household, in a postcode the government deemed the most deprived 0.1 per cent of England. “There was no real sense that you could get a job that was permanent and secure, let alone a desk job in something as rare and distant as journalism,” he says. “You just didn’t know anyone like that.”

Fahey is convinced the exclusivity is intentional, pointing to a pervasive private school culture in newsrooms as part of the problem. “This is why people go, for the networks and the knowledge. You wouldn’t pay all that money if you weren’t getting some sort of exclusivity out of it,” he says. “But it is hideous in terms of social mobility, a hideous barrier.” The cultural and social capital garnered at the Oxbridges of the world have an unspoken importance in journalism, because we look to the tastemakers who are best informed to inform us. But Fahey says there’s a distinct lack of guidance when it comes to navigating them, particularly at entry level. “The power of having someone there to walk you through these unwritten codes is huge, and there isn’t enough of that, and never has been at any news organisation. Whether that’s based on race, gender, or class, there isn’t enough appreciation of how things can be exclusive,” he explains. “The Guardian are very aware of race and gender, because they’re protected characteristics under the Equality Act. Class is not, but in my opinion, it should be. I think there’s a growing clamour for it to be included, or at least treated on the same level. And we’re defnitely aware of that. But actions speak louder than awareness.”

It’s a point that Ali El-Enazi, Trainee Reporter at the Financial Times agrees with. “Race gets a lot of coverage but I can tell straight away when a person of colour (POC) isn’t from the same class as me. I have a friend whose dad set up a foundation for him to raise money for charity. Whereas my dad’s a delivery driver and I support my

family fnancially. They’re handed internships and contacts. They have it much easier.” The confating of race and class in diversity schemes was on dramatic display last year when billionaire’s daughter Azadeh Moshiri got her job at the BBC with the help of social mobility charity, The John Schofeld Trust, sparking a much-needed conversation on socioeconomic diversity. Even individuals from marginalised groups such as POC and LGBTQ+ operate within an intersectional paradigm, one in which class is becoming increasingly invisible. This is partly due to the middle-class urge to craft a narrative of struggle underpinned by the almost religious belief in meritocracy which blurs the lines between social classes.

The latest research by the London School of Economics (LSE) incorporates economic, social, and cultural elements in defnitions of social class. Economic indicators include home ownership, savings, income, and inheritance. Poverty and low income are experiences Rhys Thomas, Senior Staff Writer at Woo, knows too well. His family grew up in his uncle’s council house and he worked multiple jobs throughout his undergraduate degree to save money for his MA Magazine Journalism at City. “I knew journalism was affuent, but when I got there I realised some people hadn’t taken out a loan for tuition fees and others had been on holiday for two years, that’s why they were older.” By his fnal term, he was broke. “I was living off frozen peas and rice and jumping over the barriers on the tube.” Six months after graduating, he was on Universal Credit, trying to freelance during the pandemic.

Other indicators of class include social and cultural capital. These can range from having access to networks of professionals that share knowledge, skills and insights to having the cultural interests and relatability to those who currently make up the industry. These more subtle forms of difference can be the most diffcult to detect.

“I’ve had it where I’ve been reporting at the picket line and journalists have come up to me and asked me for an interview, thinking I was a factory worker,” says Taj Ali, Industrial correspondent at Tribune Magazine Although he did work in a factory before pursuing journalism, these perceptions demonstrate the subtle ways working-class people can be excluded; through looking, acting and speaking differently. “They assume that because I’m there and I’ve got my parka on.” When he’s been interviewed on BBC News, he’s often been asked to position himself in front of a bookcase. “I don’t have space for a bookcase! I’ve got a tiny room and there’s no way. But it shows the kind of perceptions they have of what people who do these things are like.”

It’s one reason why Thomas feels he has unconsciously hidden where he comes from,

starting with his Welsh accent. “I don’t know how conscious it was, but I defnitely did it. I think that was me trying to ft in. I felt like these are the people who make up this world, and I need to make sure I at least come across as one of them.” At other times, the mask slipped, like when he turned up to an internship at a music magazine in a business suit, and stayed that way for two weeks. “I didn’t realise I wasn’t supposed to! They were all in jeans and t-shirts.”

The few that can take these limitations in stride are not lauded for their efforts, but mythologised as examples of good oldfashioned hard work. It’s a line of thinking that Fahey says has been crudely distorted to blame the individual, in spite of the complex social barriers at play. “This sense of ‘pull up your bootstraps, you just need to work harder, you just need to try’ is absolute nonsense,” he says. “There are huge barriers that prevent millions of people in this country from getting where they possibly could be, because these jobs are generally all taken by people who have grown up with much more advantage.”

But privilege itself is a handicap to thorough

journalism. When it comes to covering stories that affect working-class communities, those who aren’t aware of them can’t cover them with insight. If the scales were to tip to allow for a larger diversity of voices, the understanding of these stories would greatly beneft. For Fahey, this would also change the content he edits. Currently, has to walk a very subjective line between overexplaining and offence. When editing a piece on prepayment meters recently, he noticed that a few people in the room didn’t know what they were – whereas the mad dash to the local garage to top up the emergency meter was familiar territory to him. Thomas seconds this: “A lot of journalists love to write about how they’ve been to therapy. But it’s like, who the f*** can afford therapy? It’s crazy.

Illustrations by Poppy Burton

Unless it’s on the NHS, which it usually isn’t.”

Fahey says that getting the facts right without making it insulting to readers who actually knew what prepayment meters were, was a diffcult balancing act. “When you look at tragedies like Grenfell, which was rampant capitalism, profteering, and neglect of social housing; you also see a defcit of accountability and

local journalism.” After spending years reporting on the health and safety risks of council houses as a local reporter, Fahey feels that if more workingclass journalists were given opportunities to report on their communities, situations like Grenfell would have been fagged far earlier.

But this won’t be possible without serious structural upheaval, because securing positions even at local news level has become increasingly competitive. “The regional papers are getting cut to ribbons,” says Fahey. “When I was a kid, that was the stepping stone, but that ecosystem of gaining experience at local newspapers has been ravaged away.” Now, journalism is a graduate job, and a competitive one at that.

“If I could, I’d try to end the scourge of journalism becoming a graduate job,” says an emphatic Fahey. “There’s a race to the bottom in terms of investing in journalists, which is a huge problem for working-class kids. The organisations that are thriving need to fnd these kids and give them a chance.”

Thomas says that the expectation to have a degree immediately shuts out a lot of people who haven’t attended university. Although he doesn’t believe working-class people should be forced to report on local issues: “You shouldn’t have to. Your dreams shouldn’t be stifed by the fact that you’re from those places.”

But overall, the lack of funding for local news is negative for working-class communities, he says: “[Regional news] could have helped but creates a massive gulf where working-class people, especially outside of London, but including London, don’t have a chance to see the media really represent them. A f***ing article in Dazed is not going to be what they’re reading. You can quote me on that.” The death of regional papers is compounded by the fact that London is the media hub of the country. Ali says

that he is often called into London at a moment’s notice, the assumption being that all the journalists live there, and can afford to do so. Thomas agrees, “The other thing you see is people who are working-class, but they’re from London. It’s still an advantage compared to the rest of the UK.”

In such a socially exclusive industry as journalism, entry can be impenetrable. Yet, once working-class journalists are ‘in’, the precarity of the job can affect the direction of their stories. Thomas doesn’t have the luxury to work on a piece for three months, although he would love to. “A big thing that is overlooked is that people do jobs because they need them.” He says he has often worked multiple jobs to strike the right balance of work he loves to do, as well as work that pays the bills. Fahey says: “Getting into journalism is one thing, and there are lots of structural barriers there. But once you’re in, there’s still plenty more. There’s a hierarchy in terms of jobs that you’re suited to. In national news, my experience is that you tend to get people from lower socioeconomic groups in sub-editing, rather than reporting. And certainly with columnists, we all know that the opinion formers at serious newspapers are the highest proportion of privately educated people who’ve gone through Oxbridge.”

With the class lines so stark and entrenched, journalists from working-class backgrounds often feel guilt and confusion around their positioning within society once they’ve escaped the precarious conditions of working-class life. “Community is something that is really important where I come from. I have friends from back home who are bricklayers and nurses. When we see each other in the pub, it’s like we’re brothers, like we’re family. But a lot of them are struggling to survive,” says Thomas. “Meanwhile, I’m living in London on a great salary, doing work I love. I wouldn’t call myself working class right now, although I defnitely have that background.”

Fahey agrees: “Journalism is by nature, a middle class profession. I’ve spoken to a lot of people that feel, not that they’re betraying their background, but certainly that journalism is an odd thing to go for as a working class person. The way I characterise a lot of the people I’ve come across in journalism over the years is that they’ve drifted into it. Without much thought too, I would imagine. You couldn’t possibly drift the way that I came.”

Making a living out of dying

Imagine that, over the course of your life, you become somewhat wellknown for something – maybe you’re a rockstar or a politician or a rally driver whose wife avenged your affair by cutting holes in 32 of your suits. Well if you died tomorrow (sorry), Damian Arnold would fnd out.

“The frst thing I’ll do when I wake up in the morning is check to see who’s dead,” says the longest-serving obituary writer at The Times. After 15 years in the game, he’s developed some helpful habits. He’ll check the main news agencies, other papers, and, of course, WikiDeaths. He’ll have his toast, or an egg, or if he’s feeling particularly virtuous, chopped fruit and yoghurt, and during all of this, he’ll be thinking. About you. Who were you? What is the story of your life?

Sometimes by train and sometimes by bike, he’ll get into The Times’ London Bridge offce around 10am. And on his way there, he’ll keep thinking of you. What he knows about you. What to say? A few phrases might start to take shape and maybe an opening line, or a structure. You’re probably one of three obituaries he’s writing that week. If you’re the lead that day, you’re most likely getting 1500-2000 words. Next level down

from that is about 1100, and then if you’re in “the basement” on the next page then it’s around 800 – but hey, you’re still getting an obituary in The Times

Usually that’s an indication that you’ve led a good and noteworthy life. Not always though – serial killers often get obituaries. Some people really aren’t happy about that –plenty of upstanding, impressive individuals don’t make the cut. But Arnold thinks there’s value in refecting on such signifcant lives. Offering the case of The Yorkshire Ripper, Peter Sutcliffe, as an example, he argues that the story of the murders gripped the nation’s attention, and thus warranted the obituary they wrote for him in 2020 — despite the complaints it generated. “There were aspects of that story, like the fact that the police really bungled the investigation, that are interesting and delve into British culture somehow. And as much as anything else, people would be curious – who was this person? Why did they commit all those crimes?”

All of this early-morning decision-making and structuring and writing is assuming you’re not one of 7000-odd “stock” obituaries – ones they write in advance – on fle at The Times. These are updated regularly, but if someone in Arnold’s team hears that you’re on your last legs, you might be jumped up the queue. A few days before speaking

to Arnold, news has broken that Jimmy Carter has gone into hospice care. When the obituarists at The Times found out, they chose him some photos, subbed his copy, and laid it all out – he’s getting a double-page spread.

You might be irked by this idea – that The Times decides, before you die, what your life has been. Some are so apprehensive about the content of their obituary that they’ll call up and try to ‘help’ write it. Arnold says it’s a fairly common occurrence, and, though he won’t name any names, it’s often people who are very well-known. “Put it this way,” he says. “It happens quite a lot, and it tends to be the sort of slightly pompous, selfimportant people who are quite concerned about their legacy.”

It’s always a strict “no thank-you” to these people. Not that the stock obituaries are set in stone; Arnold’s always looking for details that might illustrate your specifc brand of you-ness. Recently, he was at a book launch,

People die. Then people refect. For a select few, a professional refector gets involved – they’re called obituarists, and their business is, literally, life and death. Killian Faith-Kelly reports

“Quite pompous, self-important people often call up ofering to ‘help”’

“I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death”

-W.B.Yeats

and got speaking to a prominent politician. That politician told him a great story about his career and afterwards he thought: “I must add that to their obituary.” So when he got back to the offce, he did. As much as he might like to at times, it’s a muscle he can’t really switch off.

If you’re not on the books already, you might have the good grace to die early in the morning. Or late at night. And ideally, if you can, with some warning. Especially if you’re a big deal. Legendary cricketer Shane Warne died of a sudden heart attack, in the afternoon, at age 52. They had nothing on him. “That was a pretty stressful one,” says Arnold. At 2:30pm, he was tasked with pulling together 2000 words that would adequately convey the not-uneventful story of this much-beloved man’s life by 6.30pm –the usual obituary deadline. “Lucky for me, I love cricket.”

Let’s say you’re not one of the stock obituaries. So you’ve died, and you’re somewhat well-known for something, and they don’t have yours ready to go. Arnold will glance through your Wikipedia page if you have one and he’ll ask the cuttings library at The Times to send him any profles or interviews with you. He’ll scour all of these for, yes, the necessary details – when you were born and what your parents did –but, more than that: colour. Little anecdotes to weave into the stuff you’re better known for. Betty Boothroyd, who died the week before I’m speaking with Arnold, took up paragliding in her sixties.

While he’s waiting for the cuttings to come back, he’ll probably contact your family. Maybe your spouse, or your children. And if Arnold’s experience is anything to go by, they’ll be fairly willing to talk. He thinks there are two reasons for this – one is that, in most

cases, they’ll be quite pleased to hear that you will be commemorated on the pages of The Times.

The other reason your loved ones will be willing to talk, he thinks, is that, in the hours and perhaps days after your death, they will have been inundated with calls from people offering some mild variation on the theme of being so sorry for their loss. And while Arnold might do that bit too, he’ll also ask them lots of questions. Specifc questions, about you, and what you were like. What were some funny things that you did? What should people know about you that they won’t already? And they’ll be glad, amid all the apologies to which they must politely reply with a “thank you”, to have the chance to talk about you. Arnold likes giving people that chance.

He also likes calling people up because

his grandparents had run a butcher’s in Warwickshire. They’d give him off-cuts of meat and tell him to go to the dilapidated estate nearby and give them to people who weren’t as lucky as them. That gave him an early insight into the importance of community, and he went on to build a career around advocating for it.

For Arnold, who has a keen interest in urban planning, that detail was a particularly exciting discovery. His frst obituary for The Times in 2008 was of a Dutch traffc engineer called Hans Monderman. He wrote and submitted it on spec while working for a civil engineering magazine, because he thought Monderman’s life warranted commemoration in a national newspaper. They liked it so much that they published it and encouraged him to send in more, and things went from there.

it’s where he tends to get the best stuff. The most illuminating details. Often, he says, he’ll fnd a moment that really set a person’s life in motion – maybe they were ill as a child, spent a year in hospital and in that time started reading loads about a certain subject that became their vocation.

Arnold recently wrote the obituary of an architect called John Thompson, who pioneered the concept of community architecture – it’s about allowing residents to play a genuinely participatory role in the development or redevelopment of their estates. Speaking to his wife Nova, Arnold learned that when Thompson was a child,

But even if your life doesn’t initially excite Arnold in the way that a Dutch traffc engineer’s did, “there’s really no excuse for them to be boring”, he says. “Everybody has an interesting story. You just have to get to it.” That’s why he likes the job so much – that variety. The opportunity to be “constantly dipping into the recent history of this country, its culture, its politics.”

It’s a good thing he’s not in it for the acclaim – The Times obituaries go unsigned. This isn’t universal practice. Obituary writers at The Guardian, for example, get bylines. But Arnold thinks the anonymity is important, because it allows him to prioritise telling someone’s story over saying whatever will please their loved ones. He’s not disinterested in that: “Some of the feedback I’ve had really makes the job worthwhile,” he says. “I’m not doing it to make them happy, I’m doing it to write a good obituary. But it’s still nice if they like it.”

So much so, Arnold admits, that the possibility of your death might make him a little excited. In 2015, news broke that John Noakes, former Blue Peter presenter, had gone missing. Arnold had written that one already and he was quite proud of how it turned out. Then Noakes – to Arnold’s relief, he insists – was found. “I was really happy obviously, in that sense, but also a little part of me was slightly disappointed. It’s a bit… well anyway, a couple of years after that he did die. So it did see the light of day.”

Image credits: Killian Faith-Kelly

It might seem odd to be that invested in, that driven by, writing about death. That he’ll enjoy writing about yours. But the way Arnold sees it, there only tend to be one or two lines in an obituary about death. The rest of it, he’ll be writing about your life. “I think it’s given me a positive perspective on death,” he says. “And on human nature and life; because in so many of the obituaries I get to write, people have had such amazing lives.” Arnold pauses here for a moment. “I’m slightly in awe of them, you know? That somebody could ft all of that into their life, or be such a good person. It makes you quite optimistic, in that sense. You feel that all is not quite lost in the world, if there are all these good people around.”

“There’s really no excuse for them to be boring”

Funny coincidence!

Ever worried that someone’s nicked your pitch? Caroline Whiteley hears freelancers’ fears and editors’ explanations

Adele Walton had been a freelance journalist for about three years when she fred off an idea for a technologyfocused piece. She was excited. Her pitch included relevant case studies, her undergraduate degree was on the subject, and it was timely. She never heard back from the editor, but three months later, she stumbled upon an investigation on that exact topic by the publication she had pitched.

“It was heartbreaking,” recalls Walton. “As a freelancer, pitching and thinking of ideas is a huge part of the unpaid labour that goes into article writing. To see your pitch stolen rather than being commissioned isn’t only upsetting, it’s fnancially costly and takes away from your monthly earnings.”

XCity contacted the publication in question, which denied Walton’s claim, but most freelance writers will have had similar experiences over the course of their careers. The reality is that Twitter threads and writer’s ideas are turned into articles every day –whether they get commissioned to write it or not. But why does this happen?

“My guess is lack of time and staff,” says Amber Petty, a freelance writing coach

industry”. Eventually though, things started to fall into place as his Substack became a hit, strengthening his brand. At the same time, he continued to forge connections with other writers and editors that he could trust.

One of the issues with the culture around stolen assignments or, “weird assignment coincidences”, says Ma with a smirk, is the risk that “it ultimately drives the quality of writing down.” When you read a major newspaper and magazine, “You can tell who’s been assigned a story and who’s done

Shivani Persad, a freelance writer for Teen Vogue, InStyle, and Cosmopolitan thinks editors have a responsibility to be more transparent. Responding to a freelancer’s pitch, even if it’s not the right ft at that time, goes a long way. “Just say: ‘We had a writer working on something similar, but we’re going to add you on our list of freelance writers because we really liked your idea.’”

Though there’s no inherent copyright on an idea, the best way to avoid it is to work with editors you trust, says Allen. “With Fabulous, we would always pay a tip fee for an idea we liked if we wanted it written in-house as it’s not fair on the freelancer.”

based in Los Angeles. “I’m sure there are a few malicious editors out there, but for the most part, they’re very overworked and understaffed. With everything they have to do, they may occasionally see a pitch, not get back to the writer, then use that idea later, genuinely forgetting that it wasn’t their original idea.”

Kelly Allen, a celebrity editor at Fabulous, agrees.

“Freelancers often think their pitches are being pinched, but sometimes it’s just the idea that sparked that pitch, like a TV show or a news story, has been discussed in the offce.”

Whether accidental or not, it’s not just editors accused of nicking ideas. Nathan Ma, an American-born, Berlin-based interiors and architecture writer, previously shared a story idea with a journalist friend only to see it appear in a major newspaper months later.

Ma says the experience crushed his confdence, and he spent the next six months “desperately trying to leave the journalism

the formulaic, ‘three is a trend’ Twitter callout story. I think we have a responsibility as writers to not challenge assignments but to make them into something worth writing,” he laughs.

Petty admits that while pitches get stolen – whether from editors or other writers –worrying about it isn’t the most helpful thing. “I’m not saying it doesn’t happen - it does! And it sucks!” she says. “But getting super precious about one pitch, in fear that it will be stolen, only makes it so much harder for you to build up a writing career.” Her advice? “If they take my idea, I’ve got 100 more. So... you’re welcome, jerks.”

Illustration by Gabby Colvin

“Freelancers often think their pitches are being pinched”

“Weird assignment coincidences drive the quality of writing down”

Journalism in Exile

Authoritarian regimes are uprooting increasing numbers of journalists. Tiffany

Lai and Megan Warren-Lister speak to the reporters living in this liminal state

Image credit: Gayotri Malhotra

After almost ten years working in investigative journalism, Andrey Zakharov began to notice he was no longer alone on Moscow’s streets. Gradually, the odd tailing car was replaced by full-blown harassment, with individuals following him and then hiding. He was under surveillance. But it was the attempts at concealment that troubled him most. “The hiding, that scared me,” he recalls. Having carried out various investigations, the espionage was a reminder that “if you are against Russia, they don’t want you there”. As a result, he had no choice but to leave. But this was not a matter of immigration.

Immigration, Zakharov says, implies a sense of permanence.

“I’m in exile, not an immigrant,” he explains. Forced to leave Russia two years ago, he dreams of one day returning to the leafy suburbs of St. Petersburg where he spent his childhood summers. For now, he has no choice except to work 3,000 miles away in Bulgaria. Being a journalist in exile is its own punishment, but for Afghan journalist Zahra Joya, exiled for the same amount of time, it’s also “the only weapon” available to raise awareness for those who remain in corrupt regimes. Named one of TIME’s Women of the Year in 2022, Joya bravely reported on stories of women feeing their homes as the Taliban took over Kabul.

What does journalism in exile look like today?

Zakharov and Joya are just two of many journalists in exile who feel a duty to the people they have left.

In recent years, the world has seen a sharp decline in journalistic safety in countries facing civil unrest, from Hong Kong and Myanmar, to Russia and Zimbabwe. Between 2020 and the end of 2021, UNESCO found that journalists were increasingly killed whilst covering protests, riots or demonstrations. In 2022, according to Radio Free Europe Radio Liberty, 67 journalists were killed globally. A Reuters report showed that 49 per cent of Middle Eastern and North African journalists in exile in Turkey admitted to having suicidal thoughts after escape.

Those who stay in their home countries face immediate danger and tough restrictions on reporting; those who leave face paranoia, loneliness and guilt. A double-edged sword of sorts, living in this journalistic purgatory takes a psychological toll. But, it also means that exiled journalists are even more motivated to keep going for those who couldn’t leave.

Leaving home

Those who have fed corrupt regimes are often called foreign agents, a metaphor

for enemies of the state, Zakharov explains. In Russia, this is a classifcation attributed to all journalists forced to register abroad, and to avoid the media censorship in Russia that means “you cannot call a war, a war.” The law in question, introduced last March, carries a sentence of up to 15 years in prison for journalists in breach. Whilst foreign agent status might seem to confer a sense of freedom, it’s also something of a death knell. “It’s an instrument to force you to leave the country,” Zakharov says, fatly. In Russia, the classifcation means additional regulatory hoops to jump through, from fling extensive information about their personal fnances. More obligations mean more ways for the state to have purported justifcation for punishing you, he explains.

Kris Cheng, a journalist from Hong Kong exiled for the same amount of time as Zakharov, is familiar with the status of foreign agent. Following China’s crackdown on press freedom, he feels he and his family were left with little choice but to leave. For Cheng, who now lives in the UK, “once you’re an exiled person you’re a ‘foreign agent’” to the state. The term is a nebulous catchall in China that leaves those tarred with the label especially vulnerable to prosecution under the severe National Security Law (NSL). The law came into effect in 2020, an hour before Britain’s handover of Hong Kong, and has seen people prosecuted for anything from holding vigils to attending democracy marches.

The impact of exile

For many who leave, exile could mean a new life.

“I could, like in the [flm] Matrix, take a kind of blue pill,” says Zakharov. By this he means forget everything, live a private life and have a new career. “Maybe be a teacher,” he laughs. Prior to his time at the BBC, Zakharov worked as special correspondent for the RBK magazine where he published an investigation on Russian interference in

the US election of 2016. Abandoning his long-standing passion wasn’t an option. Instead, he opted to embrace uncertainty.

“I’d take the red one,” he says eagerly. “With the red pill you choose life. You choose adventures, and investigative journalism in my case,” Zakharov explains.

Moving to Bulgaria came with the price of anxiety about surveillance. He still keeps a watchful eye on the fgures who pass his apartment and cannot disclose the city in which he is based.

Despite being uprooted, journalism’s occupation of the online space means Zakharov was able to deliver content to existing audiences, and new ones. He currently works for himself, earning a living by publishing content on platforms like YouTube and Telegram, where he reaches up to 100,000 views with any given post.

Online platforms have been a lifeline

Image credit: Joseph Chan

Hong Kong 2020 - thousands of protestors gather in Wan Chai to oppose the incoming security bill

for Violet Gonda. In 2002, she was banned from Zimbabwe by President Mugabe’s government after investigating allegations of corruption. Following his fall in 2017, she briefy went back to the country, but now reports on it from London. When she returned on a freelance basis “armed with only a cellphone”, Gonda was swiftly detained and threatened with deportation before returning to the UK. Working with sources in Zimbabwe, she now produces documentaries on WhatsApp, covering issues from local elections to waste mismanagement in Harare, the country’s capital.

journalists have escaped.

On a crisp morning in London, where Zakharov stayed for six-months before moving to Bulgaria, he recalls seeing police on the pavement and feeling “an inner desire to cross the street”. Rationally, he knew they’d do nothing, but he couldn’t stop the bubbling paranoia that stems from his life in Russia where police “can arrest you and ruin your life”.

be plagues him. “The main psychological problem is waiting for something,” he says. “No one knew the war would last such a long time.”

The thought that the war might never end also means he’s not sure he can return whilst Putin remains in power and even after that, he admits “it will still not be completely safe.”

Publishing articles online, Cheng also benefts from his digital position. “New technology has helped us monitor Hong Kong very closely, even with the time difference. The police in Hong Kong like to arrest people at 6am but that’s London’s 10pm, so I can cover it before other journalists are up,” he says.

Mental health in exile

Nevertheless, the sense of distance means isolation is inevitable. “The biggest problems are not to do with money or gathering information. They are psychological ones,” says Zakharov. Since leaving Zimbabwe, Gonda has been an advocate for the wellbeing of those exiled for similar reasons. “Journalists also get PTSD. No one ever talks about that,” she says. “People forget we’re humans. They think what we see doesn’t affect us.” As well as their lived experiences of trauma, anxieties persist even after

Cheng says his friends have had similar experiences. On 5 November 2022, when many in the UK were huddling up to friends in parks watching Bonfre Night displays, there were Hong Kongers who, for a split second, confused the explosions with the familiar sounds of tear gas canisters going off at protests. Cheng has also heard from others in the UK who have woken up in a cold sweat at 6am with “nightmares of getting arrested by the police”. Aside from fears about safety and ongoing surveillance, there is also a more existential sense of sadness that comes with existing in a liminal state, says Gonda. “All those years of dreaming of returning home, it takes its toll,” she explains.

New homes

For journalists in exile, home is often a site of confict, both literally and fguratively.

“I didn’t want to leave home,” Zakharov says. As an investigative journalist carrying out controversial work, he was always aware it was a possibility. “When you choose between jail and immigration… what else are you going to do?” When he was exiled, he was pushed by another entity (this time the BBC, not his nation state), to relocate to Riga, Latvia. But he chose to quit rather than work somewhere he had no ties. Instead he selected Bulgaria, where family resides. Though he feels lucky to have a base there, he wants to return back to Russia, his true home. The uncertainty of when this might

London-based documentary producer Gonda also doesn’t consider her new location home. “I’m still in Zimbabwe mentally and emotionally,” she explains. This sense of dislocation transcends nationality, and Afghan Joya agrees. “Mentally you’re [still] inside,” she says. For Aye Chan Naing, a Burmese journalist exiled for 25 years, this is also transgenerational. Chan Naing last saw Myanmar in 1988. Exiled after the 8888 Uprising, a bloody military coup with around 350 deaths, he continues to report on Myanmar news from Oslo, Norway. The distinguished journalist describes younger journalists asking him when they can go back to Myanmar - to which he typically responds: “Don’t think about it, just do your job…keep on fghting.”

Even home does not necessarily mean safety. The wide river and sprawling forest near Zakharov’s childhood “dacha” (a country escape near St Petersburg) may evoke a deep sense of nostalgia for him, but Moscow in particular symbolises the trauma of previous life. He says it “doesn’t belong to me anymore”. After being followed, culminating in a forced departure for the Bulgarian resident, returning home would require a reclamation of sorts. A kind of “recapture” in order to reestablish his sense of belonging. Quite literally, too – when he returns he’s determined to take the same

Zakharov

“I didn’t want to leave home...”

“Mentally you’re still inside”

Image credit: BBC

Andrey

bus route he took when being followed to overcome the anxiety he associates with the journey, and his previous life.

Journalistic duty

One impetus for persisting with journalism in exile, despite a fractured sense of home, is a pervasive sense of journalistic obligation. “My responsibility is to fght – to do journalism,” Zakharov says. Being outside of the regime confers an additional sense of duty to those who remain. This is echoed by Joya, who recalls wanting to tell the world: “Don’t forget about Afghanistan”. After all, she says, Afghans only have the voice of the journalists in exile. Chan Naing is also cognisant of his liminal positioning and the platform it confers him. “We need to be brave enough to tell stories people don’t want to hear.”

To navigate this, Naing is aware that his job is to balance and double-check, a task that can sometimes be tricky when working with local sources. He explains: “Citizen journalists are often quite emotional and deeply aligned with the opposition.” Though complete disconnection is not possible, or sought after, “our role is to keep a high editorial standard and not get too involved with emotions and personal feelings,” he says.

Coping with exile and creating a community

For Zakharov, who has been seeing a Skype therapist for three years, professional therapeutic help is essential to coping with the trauma of life in exile. “Without this

support, things would be very different,” he explains. He’s also conscious of the critical nature of journalism that’s focused on exposing the injustices of a governmental regime, and the toll this can take. “As a journalist in exile your work is to destroy the system – in opposition is creation,” he explains. To strike a better balance between the two, Zakharov has been contemplating how to exercise his own creative faculties, and though he’s adamant he’ll never leave journalism, a foray into part-time academic study is on his radar. Both psychology and history are on the cards, though he’s yet to commit. The one thing that’s clear is his determination to forge his own path in spite of the odds against him.

Beyond individual coping mechanisms, connections and networks are “so important” in maintaining mental health, Gonda explains. “Zimbabweans eat, breathe, sleep Zimbabwe,” she says,

Tope A Asokere

Abeokuta, Nigeria (2020) ‘End SARS’ protest against police brutality

describing her perceived obligation to keep Zimbabweans informed. For Zakharov, the sense of community comes naturally. “Almost all journalists left Russia,” he explains, and with most in exile, Europe is dotted with communities.

For Chan Naing, there’s also professional value to the community who remain under home regimes.

“We cannot be who we are without

people on the ground,” he says of his Myanmar colleagues. In exile, his reliance on source work means he frequently has to ask colleagues on location to take risks by capturing photos or gathering information.

You might think that being a journalist in exile would be the ultimate test of John Donne’s adage “no man is an island”, but thanks to the journalistic community’s

strong bonds, Chan Naing endorses it.

“We are bridges and connections,” he says. Expressing gratitude for his colleagues, he explains that these relationships are not peripheral but integral to life in the liminal land of exile. After all, as Zakharov says, it’s an active and collective enterprise.

“Our responsibility is to fght and do journalism.”

Munich, Germany 2023 - women’s rigthts protest

Image credit: Nk Ni

Imposter syndrome?

Symptoms

Perfect! That’s what journalists are! And we know exactly what we’re doing! And we know how to finish our current story! And we know exactly where the next story is coming from! And consistently earn enough to support ourselves! And have no anxieties! Or doubts! Or insecurities! Or flaws! Right?

Journalism is undoubtedly a competitive industry, with hundreds of stories each day competing for readers’ attention. As soon as one article is submitted, worries bubble to the surface. Was the piece good enough? Did I do something wrong? What will I submit next? Is

somebody better than me about to take my job? There’s a misconception that anyone can be a journalist. It’s true the internet means anyone can have their voice heard. But being heard doesn’t equate to factual storytelling or accurate relaying of the truth. It’s a career that entails a lot of research, trial and error and, of course, editing.

It’s highly competitive, too, and the lack of diversity doesn’t help. In fact, current NUJ trends show journalism is becoming less varied, with those from white, affluent backgrounds forming about 90 per cent of the workforce. This is hardly surprising given the low starting salaries that make journalism

hard to break into without financial backup. For all the challenges and obstacles, it’s still an exciting career many choose. However, it’s one steeped in uncertainty and precarity.

“According to 2020 statistics from the Journal of General Internal Medicine, up to 82 per cent of people suffer from imposter syndrome. The feeling is particularly prevalent in ethnic minority groups.

Feeling tragically alone and misunderstood in your anxieties as a journalist? We reached out to industry experts across different areas of journalism to understand their journeys with imposter syndrome and learn from their words of wisdom.

include nightmares, chronic rewriting and crippling self-doubt. Journalists reveal all to Eoghan O’Donnell

Giles Coren, Food critic, The Times

“Journalism has been my job for 30 years, and I absolutely know I am perfectly good. At the same time, whenever I sit down to write a piece, I worry: ‘Oh no, I might fail this time.’

Even in the darkest moments, when I look at the page and think ‘Oh my God, this is the time I am going to fail’, I snap out of it very quickly, knowing the piece will be there. It will be okay. Even a s**t piece will fll a hole in a newspaper. Newspapers are full of s**t pieces.

how I look or how young I might seem. I get that a lot, particularly when working with or interviewing more experienced or older people. And honestly, sometimes, it’s reinforced by how interviewees treat me! Particularly older men in certain spheres, like fnance, can often be patronising in interviews. It can make you question yourself in the moment.

I think about how hard I’ve worked to get to this point and try to remind myself that I’m qualifed to do whatever task I’m doing. If I’m in that room, then there’s a reason. It doesn’t matter that I’m a young woman or I have a Northern accent or a high-pitched voice or whatever I worry about on that given day. I have the knowledge and the experience to be there. Lean on those around you. Find friends within the industry who can relate and be vocal about your insecurities when you can. Sometimes a pep talk from a peer can go a really long way.”

Fiona Simpson, Editor, CYP Now

I am an imposter, but you have to get on with it. With my type of colour writing, I suppose you really are colouring around the edges of the fact that you are an imposter.

Once you’re a ‘big dog’ like me, it’s not a tiny voice from the inside saying you’re s**t. It’s a lot of people from the outside. Sometimes I think you’ve just got to f**king get on with it because you need to pay the bills.

I’m told it’s nepotism because my father is a journalist and that I just got the job because of family, and I have to prove week after week that I’m worthy. I hear people say, ‘He’s just a pound shop AA Gill’, ‘He’s just a s**t version of Jay Rayner’, or whatever they want to say. Fuck them!

Piers [Morgan] would always say, ‘Why would you care what people think about you! F**k them. It’s all fame, it’s all notoriety, and I can turn it all into money.’”

A lot of journalism is putting things aside. You get the piece fled frst, and then you deal with everything else after, regardless of your emotional state.

You’ve got to compartmentalise everything and keep going on. At the end of the day, it’s your job, and it’s the job you’ve done.”

Lucy Maguire, Senior trends editor, Vogue Business

From my frst Paris Fashion Week to interviewing major CEOs or frst speaking at a conference on stage, there’s been a lot of moments where I’ve questioned how I got there or whether I deserve it. Interestingly, the most niggling thought is whether other people will think I deserve my position because of

background and am constantly getting people to get big reports and haven’t done that myself, but I hope I can help in other ways. I commission people to do things I haven’t even done myself!

Every time you start a new job, you ought to be out of your depth. Being out of your depth should be something as exciting and challenging as it is overwhelming. Ultimately, when you do get super comfortable in your job, it’s probably time to move on.

I certainly have a perfectionist streak, and I think people who suffer from imposter syndrome probably do as well, but you can’t be too perfectionist about things. You can be a good parent, not a perfect parent.

Journalism is about being good enough. You learn stuff by doing stuff. It’s like a muscle: the more you do it, the stronger it gets. I’m not saying the imposter syndrome will go away, but it will impact you less.”

Nicola Elliott Journalist

and NEOM founder

“

I often fnd imposter syndrome sets in when it’s my turn to ask a question, either when I’m at a press conference with colleagues from big national titles or pitching ideas within my organisation. Part of me feels like I need to prove my expertise, while another part thinks I’ll end up looking silly. My advice: do your research and have a clear idea of what you want to achieve, whether you’re at a press conference or pitching an idea to editors. It will take the pressure off.”

Beth Kennedy, Editor, Chemist+Druggist:

“Being an editor is a huge job with tons of responsibility and what feels like a million competing priorities on any given day. The stakes are high, and it’s easy to forget all the good work that you do.

It’s imperative to keep a sense of perspective. But one bad day or week or month doesn’t defne you as a journalist. Breathe through the doubts and remember how competitive this feld is. You wouldn’t be in your position if people didn’t believe you could do it.”

Jonathan Beckman Editor, 1843

“I came into this job not knowing much about editing magazine journalism and on a team where most people didn’t know about editing either. I’m still an imposter in that I haven’t come from a reporting

“Imposter syndrome only exists if you think there’s a set standard that someone else has set that you need to live up to. What if you wrote the rules on what ‘good’ looks like? Be yourself. Own your imperfections. Understand you only need to be good at a few things, not all. In fact, it’s normal to be rubbish at lots of stuff. Once you get this into your head it reframes everything, especially imposter syndrome.”

“Once you’re a ‘big dog’ like me, it’s not a tiny voice from the inside saying you’re s**t. It’s a lot of people outside.”

“There are people who think you’re selling your soul if you write on identity”

Image: Elissar El Hamoud - elissarrr.com

SOMETIMES I WANT TO WRITE ON IDENTITY AND OTHER TIMES I DON’T

Muslim journalists tell Maira Butt about being pigeonholed

It’s never been a better time to be a Muslim journalist. Media fascination with Islam continues- the migrant crisis, Shamima Begum, and war reporting in the Middle East all call for Muslim voices to be heard. As journalism reckons with its lack of diversity, more Muslims are being commissioned to write about their lives than ever before. But that’s the problem. With the increased visibility comes the downside. Like many marginalised voices, Faima Bakar, an award-winning journalist who has written for The Independent, Time Out and HuffPost UK, feels “Muslim issues” and identity are the only pieces she gets commissioned.

“It feels as if you’ve been pigeonholed into only being an expert on identity and not being trusted to write on other topics.”

It’s a conversation she regularly has with other journalists of colour: “My black friends have said Black History Month is the only time they get paid as editors are on the lookout for black writers. Same with South Asian History month, Islamophobia Awareness Month and Ramadan. The rest of the year it’s slim pickings. It’s a struggle I’m really facing right now as a freelancer.”

Yet, many fnd writing on their lived experience an easy way into an exclusive industry. Shaheena Uddin, a journalist for The Guardian and Sky News, says it’s how she got her foot in the door. “My frst real ‘break’ into the freelance industry was on South Asian and Muslim representation in Ms. Marvel for the EMC Media Mag and podcast.”

With no bylines at the time, she says: “The easiest way to start pitching was to focus on areas I was knowledgeable. My background as a Muslim Pakistani woman allows me to position myself as the right person to write certain articles, such as what it’s like being a visible hijab-wearing minority.”

There are extra pressures for marginalised communities at the early stages of their career, particularly if they’re young women.

Award-winning writer, Salma Haidrani, whose work has appeared in Vice, ELLE and Vogue, explains: “It’s such an incredibly tough profession. There’s a lot of pressure for women. They might feel they need to sell out their identity or their trauma to get a byline and become a recognisable name.” Haidrani began a trailblazing career writing on identity almost a decade ago, when she was one of the only voices in British journalism championing Muslim women. The idea of “selling out” is one Uddin recognises. “There are people who think you’re selling your soul if you write on identity.”

But the need to correct negative coverage of Muslims is the reason Uddin entered the

industry in the frst place. “I was bright eyed and ready to do the PR work for Muslims and South Asian culture, to show that we’re not all bad. We are so underrepresented in the feld,” she says. Haidrani agrees, as she wrote through signifcant political events such as Brexit when far-right rhetoric and populist thinking had reached its peak. “I feel like I did my community a service,” she says. The negative coverage they were trying to correct included instances such as Boris Johnson’s infamous column on Denmark’s banning of the burka for The Telegraph, in which he referred to Muslim women wearing the niqab as “letter-boxes”. The following week, instances of Islamophobia in the UK rose by 375 per cent according to Tell Mama, from eight incidents the previous week to 38 in the following. 22 of those were directed at Muslim women who wore the niqab or face veil. Two in fve street-based incidents directly referenced Johnson and the language used in the column.

”

to do more to protect minority journalists. The majority of media outlets cater to white audiences and are run by white editorial teams. This means Muslim writers can feel at risk of writing from an “orientalist gaze” — a term coined by Palestinian academic Edward Said to describe the way in which Eastern communities are viewed through an exoticised lens which perceives them as mysterious, inferior and other. It can be diffcult for journalists of colour to be perceived as anything other.

“You start to worry about becoming the thing you’re writing about,” says Haidrani. “I was never going to pander to the orientalist gaze, and I was adamant about that.”

Uddin feels that the framing of stories from certain cultures as “identity” or “token diversity topics” and “not just normal topics everyone should care about,” is too convenient for an already siloed industry. “Even the most objective journalist will have to make creative choices along the way. I feel this type of criticism is often a cheap way to discredit POC journalists.”

The Centre for Media Monitoring suggests that Johnson’s article, far from being an isolated event, is part of a media climate hostile to Muslims. They report that 59 per cent of articles that cover the Muslim community in the UK do so negatively. Despite making up 6.5 per cent of the UK population, only 0.05 per cent of journalists are Muslim. Uddin says: “We have so many stereotypes placed upon us, from the ‘terrorist trope’ to the ‘submissive oppressed woman’. Even the language used to describe the child Shamima Begum in the news is so different when describing white counterparts.”

But, being one of the few people from an under-represented and highly politicised community in a public-facing role also comes with its burdens. Haidrani says, “There is a lot of pressure. The weight of expectation placed on us is a lot. You feel a certain level of responsibility to represent your community in the best possible way.”

Not to mention the vitriol directed to Muslim journalists on social media. Bakar says: “When you write about race and religion you end up with loads of trolls, tweeting you and messaging you on social media and email. It’s quite a horrible experience. I’ve had abusive emails that were Islamophobic, racist and contained death and rape threats. I had to call the police as they claimed to have shared my address.” She has called on editors

She uses the example of Hamza Syed’s reporting on the Trojan Horse affair, an alleged plot to infltrate the country’s schools with an Islamist agenda which caused a national panic and was later found to be a hoax. “He was criticised for being biased and not objective because he comes from the community involved in his investigation. But ‘objective’ journalism is an incredibly fraught term. Arguably, every story has an agenda. Even the most impartial journalist will have to make creative choices along the way.”

Bakar believes editors are key tp the solution, and credits hers at Time Out for trusting her with topics she was interested in. Uddin feels the problem is bigger than journalism. “The reality is that it doesn’t matter how many Muslim journalists we have, Islamophobia will always be there if the institution itself is built on it.”

She credits organisations such as The Aziz Foundation, which provides scholarships and internships for aspiring Muslim journalists. “They have been actively working to get more Muslims into journalism so they can hold editors to account and somehow dismantle the institutional islamophobia and racism in the industry.”

Bakar, Haidrani and Uddin all feel that the key is control. “If it’s the only thing you’re made to write about, it no longer feels empowering,” says Uddin. Haidrani feels journalists should be free to write exactly what they want, in the way they want and that the process is dynamic. “Sometimes, I want to write on identity and other times I don’t. And that’s fne. But everything I’ve written, I’m proud of, even years later.”

“You start to worry about becoming the thing you’re writing about”

Documenting

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Darkness

Burner phones, fake identities and harrassment: Ellie Flynn tells Henrietta Taylor what it’s really like to be an undercover reporter

Thirty seconds after sitting in front of Ellie Flynn, I realise that I’d make a terrible undercover journalist. Nestled between BBC Studios and the corporation’s Television Centre, we’re sitting in a buzzing bar-cum-work hub on the ninth foor of White City House, a west London branch of the slick Soho House member’s club. We had previously discussed that I would need to be sneaky – these premises aren’t exactly amenable to any form of recording. But, a little overwhelmed by the loud music, and people tapping away on laptops next to us, I forget my mission entirely. After fussing around with my dictaphone, I plonk it onto the coffee table

between us. A moment later, I realise I have in fact placed the dictaphone next to me, not Flynn, and shove it to her side of the table, grimacing. She appears totally unphased.

Flynn’s unfappability is hardly surprising.

In 2018, at the age of 25, Flynn frst appeared onscreen in “Rent for Sex” -- the frst episode of her Ellie Undercover series commissioned by BBC Three, which saw her exposing landlords demanding sex in exchange for free rooms.

Since then, she has led documentaries uncovering a host of injustices affecting people in Britain today. As well as dodgy Botox practices and coercive control, she has investigated the porn industry and the police, revealing the many insidious, unseen ways in

which women are abused and exploited.

Her groundbreaking Channel 4 documentary, Undercover: Sexual Harassment –The Truth, came out in December last year, and right now, she’s working on an investigative podcast series about the glamour industry.

While Flynn divulges that the story has been “a long time in the making”, like any good undercover reporter, she keeps the show’s details under wraps.

Growing up, Flynn, in her own words, was “a super nosy child” who “loved reading and writing”. So, when somebody – most likely her mother – told her she’d make a good journalist, she decided on the career path then and there, even though she wasn’t quite sure what it was. Flynn later studied English

eros nec nam. Blan

Image credits: Channel 4

at undergraduate level, writing for The Tab and working for student radio throughout university. After struggling to get any useful work experience post-graduation, she decided to enrol on City’s Magazine MA.

“That’s where I realised that investigations were my thing,” she says. While many early career journalists may prefer to opt out of scouring endless documents, Flynn was in her element. “I fnd it exciting, going down a rabbit hole and building up evidence.”

In fact, for Flynn, going undercover wasn’t part of any dream to be the next 007. It was just a necessary part of the job. “It felt like the only way I’d get the information I needed, so it was an inevitable part of the reporting process,” she says.

In any case, the reality of the role is a far cry from Bond. “There’s a need to document everything you’re doing, especially when you’re making really serious allegations,” Flynn explains. “So, you have to be really thorough and diligent in terms of your note-taking and your storage of information; which is defnitely not what you think of when you think about getting into it.”

Although secret identities and sleuthing may make for exciting telly, behind the scenes, there are hidden burdens: “On Rent for Sex, I was managing all the correspondence, and I was getting constantly propositioned at all hours of the night and day on this tiny little burner phone that I had,” Flynn says. She tells a similar tale about her experience flming Secrets of the MultiLevel Millionaires: “There was one point where I had like seven burner phones on the go. The admin side of it is quite draining.”

While Flynn’s demeanour may be that of a seasoned pro – albeit a very approachable one – she hasn’t always been as daring. “My friends still can’t believe that I do this as a job, because I was such a wuss when I was younger,” Flynn says in her soft, grounded tone. “When I was at City, going off to do my frst interviews, I’d be embarrassed to call someone on the phone.”

Flynn had been working as a journalist for a few years before reaching her big break on Rent for Sex.

“I was chucked into the deep end,” she admits. “I didn’t even do a screen test and I’d never been on camera before.”

Reality hit during Flynn’s frst

practice run with her director. “I just completely froze. I was like, ‘I don’t think I can do this’,” she says. “She was sort of there, head in hands, like ‘Oh my God, this is going to be a disaster!’”

Of course, it wasn’t a disaster. Armed with little more than a contingency plan, a hidden camera and a chunky, chocolate-brown wig, Flynn adeptly grilled landlords all over the UK about their intentions to sleep with vulnerable female tenants, and spoke to the women who had considered, or endured, such arrangements. But even for someone as passionate about her work as Flynn, there were pitfalls. Chief among them was her disguise. “Oh my god, I hate the wigs!” Flynn says. “The funny thing is, I wore the wig, but no one knew who I was. And back then the wig budget was like £8,” she laughs.

repentant. The illusion is shattered when, after apologising and fnally getting up to leave, he hovers at the door and says: “Give me a kiss.”

On another ‘drunk’ walk in Leicester Square, two men, who appeared to be working together, pursued Flynn with an alarming air of organisation. Another man grabbed her hand and rubbed it on his crotch. According to Flynn, some form of harassment occurred every night she went out, “which I think is what surprised me; just how prevalent it was,” she says.

While these situations were at the very least unsettling, and at times truly frightening, a lot more of Flynn’s time was spent exploring sexual harassment against women online.

The ability to hit the ground running and stay on task, wigs and all, is likely what makes Flynn so effective in her undercover work, even in the face of real threats. The disturbing results of her recent documentary, Undercover: Sexual Harassment - the Truth, made headlines when she essentially turned herself into a walking target for opportunistic and predatory men, simply by pretending to be drunk and alone.

Flynn, monitored and supported from a distance by her team, took several trips to busy nightlife spots in London and Liverpool and was flmed being approached, harassed and followed by multiple men, even when she repeatedly said that she was fne and looking for her friends.

Flynn had expected as much would happen, but was shocked when things went a step further. “I remember in the back of my mind thinking that there’s no way someone was going to come all the way back to the hotel.” But on Flynn’s frst trip out, one man was so persistent that he did exactly that, following her all the way up to her bedroom, unaware of the hidden cameras watching them and the security guard lying in wait in the bathroom.

Upon their return, Flynn snaps into sober mode to question him, and the man’s bewildered yet persistent response leads the viewer to think, for a moment, he is genuinely

After creating a fake dating profle, posing as an 18-year-old and using her own photos from that age, she matched with multiple men and, with a deeply depressing predictability, was inundated with graphic sexual messages, nude photos, and even videos. Compared to the real risks posed by her trips out at night, Flynn almost makes the experience sound mundane. “A lot of the work was just from home, receiving dick pics on my phone,” she says, a little wearily.

Generally female viewers were disappointed, but unsurprised, by what they saw in the documentary, Flynn explains. Men, on the other hand, were shocked. “[They] were like ‘What? I had no idea this happened!’”

“It’s so frustrating,” she laughs, wryly. “It’s like you’ve been hitting your head against a wall for the past 10 years.” Flynn remains hopeful that the documentary will encourage male viewers to take sexual harassment as seriously as women are forced to.

It’s the necessity of this that forces Flynn to separate her emotions from storytelling. She explains that her role “to give contributors the space to tell whatever story it is they want to tell, and to tell it the way they want to tell it”.

With all that said and done, there’s a clear sense of purpose driving her to keep doing the work that she does. “I want to cut through and get people to realise that this is not just a women’s issue. This isn’t a flm that women need to watch, because we know that this is something that we experience every single day.”

ELLIE FLYNN

“A lot of the work was just from home, receiving dick pics on my phone”

We need to talk about race

The insidious reality of everyday racism in journalism

by Daniela Toporek

Journalist Vivek Chaudhary has been waiting almost 30 years for an apology.

A reporter for The Guardian in the 1990s and early 2000s, he was one of a small number of journalists of colour at the time. Although Chaudhary is of Indian descent, he is a Londoner through and through.

One night in the mid-1990s, Chaudhary met his Guardian colleagues at their regular pub, when the owner spewed hateful comments, calling him a p***. None of Chaudhary’s colleagues came to his defence.

When he complained, asking to boycott the pub, only a few agreed. The majority responded with heavy scepticism, he says.

At the same time, The Guardian was reporting on the Macpherson Inquiry, which exposed racism within the Metropolitan Police.

“I went to a union meeting then and I basically said: ‘You’re all a bunch of hypocrites,’” he recalls.

The Guardian, stating how hurt he was by his former colleagues and editors.

It took 15 months for the publication to respond with a formal apology in January.

On City University’s MA Magazine course this year, there are 38 students and only nine of them are people of colour. I am the only Hispanic. There are no Black students; and according to a survey of the labour force published by the Offce of National Statistics, 92 per cent of journalists in the UK are white.

So, will I experience something similar to Chaudhary when I’m actually on the job? Will I be isolated and ‘othered’ by my future white colleagues? The answer is… possibly.

“It’s never going to be said to your face,” says Nimra Shahid, a fnance reporter at the Bureau of Investigative Journalism. “It shows up on a more structural level in people’s behaviours and actions.”

It shows, for example, when colleagues confuse people of colour in the workplace. Sophie Huskisson, a political correspondent at the Daily Mirror, says that white journalists often confuse her with other black female journalists. “You’d think it wouldn’t happen a lot because there’s not that many of us,” she says. “We’ve had to take it on the chin and fnd it quite hilarious because we look completely different. It’s because we’re the non-white ones.”

While Chaudhary does think the industry has improved since his incident, he still believes there’s work to be done.

but they didn’t act on them.”

Journalist and communications consultant Genelle Aldred agrees. “When we think of a board, they say that it’ll take time to change it. No one wants it to change before they’re ready to give up their spot,” she says. “That’s because we imagine the future as a version of the past. Why not add people? Instead of a board with 10 people, for instance, why not have 12? Why does it have to be how it always was?”

“‘You’re sitting here reporting all this great stuff as a liberal publication, talking about institutional racism. Why don’t you look at your own bloody canteen culture? You know what happened to me, and none of you have supported me. You’ve been happy to carry on going to this pub.’”

While Chaudhary moved on from both the incident and The Guardian - continuing his successful career elsewhere, he never really considered the toll it took on his psychological well-being.

“I never spoke about the personal hurt,” he says. “I wouldn’t say that it drove me out of The Guardian, but it shaped the way my career went.”

In 2022, Chaudhary decided to address the issue with a personal statement to the National Union of Journalists (NUJ) and

“The obvious one is recruitment — just having more people from diverse backgrounds and races,” he says. “Another thing about the media, unfortunately, is that it revolves around networking. People mostly bring in who they already know. We must break away from that,” he adds. “If there’s a more inclusive recruitment policy and you’re looking wider than your networks, that would be a really good thing.”

Another problem is that the higher up the media ladder you go, the more it becomes exclusively white and male. A factsheet published by Reuters this year reports that only six per cent of journalists in top editorial positions in the UK are people of colour.

“Those are the people that affect change and make policies happen,” says Chaudhary. “If these organisations instil diversity policies, they need to actually enforce them. With my incident, I know The Guardian had anti-racism policies,

“It’s never said to your face. It shows up on a more structural level in people’s behaviours and actions”

Headshot of Vivek Chaudhary

Photo by Roshini Chaudhary

Breaking news and breaking down

As a fedgling journalist in her twenties, India Sturgis revelled in the excitement of working for national newspapers despite the long hours, stress and pressure to perform.

She recalls: “Even if I was feeling anxious and struggling to sleep, I still absolutely loved the job.”

But the pressure gradually took a toll in 2019 after having a baby, when she experienced a period of extreme insomnia and intrusive thoughts. This culminated in an admittance to the Priory, a private mental health hospital in London, where she was diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder (GAD).

“How my anxiety felt to me was a tendency to slip into the seventh gear very quickly,” explains Sturgis, a Magazine MA alumna, who has written for the Telegraph and Daily Mail. “It would often feel like the fght or fight response triggered more easily, so you are working with a lot of adrenaline, which actually – like athletes before a race – can pull your concentration in and get the results you need quickly.”

Sturgis learnt how to deal with her anxiety through the cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) she did in those crucial weeks as a patient. Now, working on a book about anxiety, she describes it as a brick in the wall of her personality rather than something that defnes her.

Despite this, there are moments where striking a balance between working as a journalist and caring for her mental health remains a problem. “What I notice is that in certain situations I might be slightly more predisposed to feelings of overwhelm or adrenaline in a situation that doesn’t warrant feeling like that or having such a strong reaction,” she says.

“I’ll be sitting there, and I have three cups in front of me, I haven’t eaten properly and I haven’t really slept, or I got up at fve in the morning to do something. It’s now 8pm and I haven’t really stopped and you’re like, ‘what am I doing’?”

As journalists are expected to work increasingly longer hours, acting as a source of information for the public, Sturgis is not the only one whose burnout and stress has become anxiety. A 2021 survey into the mental health of Canadian journalists by the Canadian Press found that 69 per cent of respondents reported that they had anxiety, while 80 per cent claimed they had experienced burnout from reporting on death, injury and suffering.

A 2021 study from Middlesex University found that journalists often attribute their stress and burnout to going beyond their pay grade in terms of hours and emotional labour. The responsibility of reporting information during the pandemic exacerbated journalists’

already existing anxiety and, in the case of Pippa Crerar, provoked feelings of extreme anxiety in response to backlash for their work for the frst time.

Crerar, Political Editor of The Guardian, explains how the response she received from breaking a series of major exclusives about the Partygate scandal impacted her mental health. “I got a fair amount of negative attention, particularly on Twitter, during the Dominic Cummings, Barnard Castle, Boris Johnson Partygate stories. Some of that was very personal,” she says.

“The advice I got from Laura Kuenssberg, when she was BBC’s Political Editor, is to turn off your notifcations. It does unfortunately mean that you miss interactions that you would otherwise have seen. But the beneft of it is that I’m not checking my phone in the middle of the night to see what time it is, and having 40 abusive comments, which was really quite detrimental to my mental health.”

Sturgis concurs that she has had her notifcations turned off for years to help her focus on deadlines.

“defending themselves against their own anxiety and helplessness”.

Consistently put in situations out of their control, journalists are subject to abnormally high expectations of their mental resilience towards situations they experience on the job that wouldn’t apply to those outside of the feld. “There’s a lot of bravado isn the job, a lot of omnipotent fantasy that ‘I can handle anything,’” says Mortimer, whose father was killed while reporting in El Salvador when she was 19. Having anxiety, or what Mortimer calls being “hyper vigilant”, can make you more likely to put yourself in chaotic situations, so that your external world matches your inner.

It’s, therefore, unsurprising that people with anxiety pursue journalism as a career. Aarron Fleming, an education reporter at the Daily Memphian in Memphis, Tennessee, has dealt with anxiety his whole life. Starting a career in journalism seven months ago has helped him to overcome aspects of his anxiety. Even though he is reluctant to call people or even go out and talk to them, his sense of duty to report fairly and accurately on racial and economic injustice, which are rife in his designated school district (the largest in the state), compel him to go out and do it.

“The words ‘trial by fre’ are something I totally live by with anxiety in general,” says Fleming. “I just kind of have to go and do it, and then once you do, you realise it’s not as bad as you thought.”

“I hated dealing with them and found them unnecessary, stressful and disruptive. It’s all about slowing down the unnecessary barrage of information from your phone and, really, the world more generally, in ways that make sense for you and your job.”

If that information is preventing you from doing your job, or more importantly dealing with your personal life, that’s when your mental health becomes threatened. While journalists might experience highly stressful situations, it’s often the lack of balance between their work and personal lives that has the most impact on them.

Struggling with this balance comes up regularly when talking to journalists who seek help for their anxiety, Anna Mortimer, a therapist and journalist, has found. “I spoke to someone who had seen severed heads on spikes [while working] and not minding that much, but weeping because his girlfriend had a miscarriage and he wasn’t there,” says Mortimer, who co-founded The Mind Field, an online therapy service for journalists reporting on confict.

While journalists might feel their long working hours make them miss out on intimate personal moments, Mortimer explains that this is symptomatic of defecting personal issues they might face.

“The idea that [journalists] should be more immune to what’s going on around them,” explains Mortimer, often comes with them

While still at college, he was asked to cover a school shooting and asked to cold call someone’s apartment to interview them about the shooting. “Nobody teaches you how to do that and I think, even if they did, it’s kind of theoretical but I had to get over myself and go do it,” he says.

Fleming understands the benefts that anxiety can bring to interviewing and building contacts. “I’m not so bold that I’m just callous and don’t really care about people’s feelings. I am a lot more, probably to a fault, careful with questions I ask or how I go about things,” Fleming explains.

Building relationships with editors throughout her career has helped Sturgis to cope with anxiety.

“When you’ve got really strong relationships with editors, they know your work and what you do. If 95 per cent of the time you hit those deadlines, if you’re not able to, they understand there will be a reason,” she explains.

According to Crerar, relationships with other journalists are equally important. Over the years, she says, people have increasingly been willing to talk about anxiety. She ensures her team knows they can do the same with her. “We can talk through them, think about ways of alleviating that pressure, or dealing with negativity that surrounds them and making them ultimately feel good about themselves, because my view very strongly is that if my team is happy, they’re going to be the best journalists that they can be and that works in everyone’s interests.”

Honey Jane Wyatt explores why journalism and anxiety go hand in hand

“There’s a lot of bravado in the job, a lot of omnipotent fantasy that ‘I can handle anything’”

First job in journalism? Get help with the cost of starting out.

The Journalists’ Charity’s first jobs fund offers support with the cost of relocation, accommodation, transport and work-related equipment. Depending on your circumstances, you might be able to get financial assistance to help you at the beginning of your career. To find out more, or to apply, scan the code or visit our website.

Three PMs in three months

In June 2022, then-prime minister Boris Johnson announced his resignation after more than 50 Conservative MPs published letters calling on him to leave. His successor, Liz Truss, lasted just 44 days. Cue Rishi Sunak, confdently strolling into the role in October, marking Britain’s second unelected leader in as many months. Meanwhile, the economy plummeted following Truss and Kwasi Kwarteng’s minibudget, Suella Braverman resigned as Home Secretary just to be reinstated six days later, and the death of Queen Elizabeth II plunged the country into a period of mourning. Behind the ever-changing headlines was a plethora of political journalists. What was it like reporting one of the most politically unstable times in British history?

Ben Riley-Smith Political Editor, The Telegraph

On racing to Westminster after Rishi Sunak’s resignation as Chancellor...

“I had gone to Cornwall for two days, and on the Tuesday I was coming back on the train. And suddenly, around 5pm, in bursts Rishi, then Sajid Javid releasing these letters of resignation. I thought ‘oh my god, this could be the moment they boot out Boris,’ so I had to leg it.

“The train got in about 6pm and I had to leg it in my holiday clothes to Parliament and immediately jump on the paper. Our print deadline is 8:30pm, and then the paper goes off to print at 9pm, 9:30pm. It was a really late night, we ended up ordering

in some really crap pizza. That was the only pizza place that was still open.”

On the day before Boris Johnson’s resignation...

“There were dozens and dozens of people quitting their jobs. Then I remember, the cabinet had gathered in Downing Street to tell him he was going to go, and we were like, ‘surely this has got to be the point’. And just as the print deadlines were approaching, the Number 10 spinner called round some of the political editors saying ‘Look Boris Johnson isn’t going anywhere, you’re not gonna get your lectern moment, he’s fghting on’.

“That night, they were kind of determined to try and fght on. So if you look at all the front pages from that day, it is kind of a defant Boris fghting on despite the writing on the wall. Then the next morning, he [resigns].”

On the impact of the Queen’s death on lobby reporting...

what’s actually happening?’. Our royal correspondents are trying to reach out to the palace to reach out to various different contacts, trying to work out what’s happening. It became a huge pause on politics for the

Rachael Burford Political Correspondent, Evening Standard

On stopping the press when Liz Truss resigned...

“The Evening Standard goes to print at 11.30am, with all copy fled before 11am to ensure there is time to edit it and for the subs

“Rumours started circulating. And then [the political editors] are scrambling, trying to work any contact we’ve got saying, ‘Is it true? Can we ascertain

Political journalists were at the centre of the chaos in Westminster last autumn. They share their stories from the lobby with Ella Kipling

“We had about 10 minutes to get copy to the subs”

Illustrations: Rachel Burman

to get it on the page. By that time on October 20, we knew Truss was probably going to resign at some point but not that it would be within the following hour or so.

“We’d fled copy and gone to press with a story along the lines of ‘Liz Truss faces further pressure to quit’, and had to stop the press when it was confrmed she was resigning that afternoon. It’s the frst time I’ve seen it done in my eight years as a journalist. It was pretty frantic fling a new front page.

“We had about 10 minutes to get copy to the subs, put on a page and send it back to the printers to ensure we’d be able to get enough copies out in time for commuters heading home. It meant we were the frst physical newspaper to carry the news that Liz Truss had been ousted as PM after just 45 days. Boris Johnson had resigned early in the morning just a few months earlier, in perfect time for our deadline.”

On the Queen’s death ...

“We saw Nadhim Zahawi, then Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, come into the Commons chamber and pass Liz Truss a note during a debate on energy prices. A note was then passed to the Labour front bench. It was obvious that something signifcant had happened. What followed was a statement from the Palace about concerns for the Queen’s health.

“A lot of hushed conversations were being held in hallways around Parliament that afternoon and there was a general sense of gloominess. You’d overhear people saying things like ‘the man in charge of fags has just been seen going into Downing Street’ as we all watched members of the royal family arriving at Balmoral on TV.

“This was in the early afternoon and TV correspondents were getting black suits shipped to the offce or

heading to the nearest clothes shop to buy a black jacket. At 4.30pm, the Prime Minister was told by the Cabinet Secretary that the Queen had died, but it wasn’t confrmed to the public until two hours later. No one had ever covered the death of a British monarch, so no one really knew what offcial procedures would be or who would make announcements.

“The fact it happened just days into Liz Truss’ premiership added to the uncertainty. There was a lobby briefng in Downing Street that evening where it was confrmed to journalists that Britain would go into a 10-day period of national mourning and likely end with the state funeral. The next two weeks were bizarre. Our offce is right by Westminster Hall so every day you would walk past thousands of people who had queued for hours to see the Queen lying in state.”

Ryan Sabey Deputy Political Editor, The Sun

On an average day during this period...

“Things were changing so much that the paper, during that time, was sort of being ripped up sometimes hour by hour. Sometimes we just didn’t know what the story the next day was going to be until sort of six, seven o’clock when we’re right up against the

deadline.

“You’d be writing up until writing and fling stories until eight, nine o’clock at night, and then anything could happen until Westminster and Parliament and people went to bed at sort of 10, 11pm. It was a full-on time. They’re kind of like that most days anyway, but particularly at that time, you really couldn’t switch off; the adrenaline was pumping.

“At the end of the Truss time, everyone was pretty whacked. It was hour by hour, day by day, it was just so crazy.”

On deciding what would go in the paper...

“We probably weren’t deciding until 7pm or even later, what was going to be the story of the day because things changed so quickly.”

On three PMs in three months...

“I just don’t think you’ll get, you know, a crazier time. It was almost as if you couldn’t quite tell whether the Government was going to fall at any moment, it just sort of felt like everything was so precarious. Really, it was just pretty incredible.”

On the day Kwasi Kwarteng resigned as Chancellor...

“I remember that being on a Friday. And parliament can be quiet on Fridays, but this was the most dramatic day. I think we’ve had one of the most dramatic days we’ve had.”

On the atmosphere in the lobby...

“Every time something happened, there was a sharp intake of breath, because you just think it can’t get any more ridiculous. And then it does. And I think that’s what keeps it interesting. And that’s why we want to do it. It was just a drama, a soap opera, you couldn’t have made it up. I think that’s what keeps us interested and keeps the readers interested.”

“Every time something happened, there was a sharp intake of breath”

“You really couldn’t switch of, the adrenaline was pumping”

Image credit: Surabhi Tandon

The Jawaharlal Nehru University campus in New Delhi is witnessing a commotion. Students have gathered to attend the screening of a documentary series. There is an air of nervous anticipation. As they sit to watch the programme, the electricity goes out and their phones lose signal. A few minutes later, the students are attacked by a mob. The viewing is forced to stop.

Screenings at other renowned universities across India — The Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Jamia Millia Islamia and Delhi University — suffer the same fate.

The two-part documentary, India: The Modi Question, has been banned by the Indian government, using emergency powers granted under the country’s information and technology laws. The BBC offces in New Delhi and Mumbai were raided for three days after the documentary’s release. The authorities accused the broadcaster of tax evasion. Easy to wonder, why all that fuss over a documentary?

The flm explores Narendra Modi’s relationship with India’s Muslim population, the biggest minority group in the country.

Given particularly close attention is Modi’s membership with the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), a Hindu nationalist organisation founded with the purpose of making India a “Hindu rasthtra” – a country solely for Hindus. The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) — the political party that Modi leads — is the political extension of the RSS.

So what is it like for the journalists behind this documentary to be in the eye of the political storm? Surabhi Tandon, the lead interviewer, tells XCity, in her frst interview since the flm’s release, that the documentary may alter her career from here on.

“I think journalism in India will become increasingly challenging for those who want to be critical of the government,” she says. “It is becoming obvious that if you dare to cross swords with them, they don’t forget. There is a chance you will have to pay a very high price for it; we are witnessing so many journalists who have been arrested or punished for their work.”

Modi became the chief minister of Gujarat in 2002. The frst episode of the documentary includes interviews and reports that blame Modi for the Gujarat riots that killed over a thousand Muslims, including a previously unpublished report by the UK Foreign Offce that described the violence as “a deliberate, and politically driven effort targeted at the Muslim community”.

Tandon was approached for the documentary in June 2021 by an executive producer at the BBC. The work began in August. “I took on the project because I knew it was an extremely important topic,” she explains. “Despite the challenges, and obvious risks, it felt like it was the right thing to do given how easily people forget the past. More importantly, I thought that the upcoming generations should know about what happened in 2002.”

The second episode covers the Modi government’s attempt to enact the Citizenship

Amendment Act in 2019. The legislation, along with the National Register of Citizens, was meant to grant fast-track citizenship to non-Muslim migrants from Pakistan, Bangladesh and Afghanistan. The decision was met with ferce protests across the country as it was seen as an attempt to exclude Indian Muslims.

This period also saw a number of mob attacks on Muslims. The documentary features an interview with the mother of 23-year-old Faizan Alam, who was beaten and killed after being forced to sing the national anthem by the police.

are conducted on social media, especially against women – their personal data may be posted online as an additional incitement to violence.”

The interviews conducted by Tandon contain graphic details about the violence that unfolded in 2002 and 2019. Tandon says detailed security was needed to protect sources. “The BBC has very strict protocols around high-risk flming,” she reveals. “Since the beginning, everything was segregated. While there were producers doing the research, others were setting them up by getting the sources’ dates and addresses. My team would go to the site with cameras for the interview. At times, we did not even know the name of the person we were going to interview till it was 48 hours away. We were also constantly asked to reset our phones because of fear that some of the people we were interviewing were already tapped.”

Thinking about how the documentary was received in her home country, Tandon, who’s worked for VICE, France24 and Al Jazeera, admits: “We always knew there would be consequences but we did not anticipate them to be to this extent. Banning the flm, commissioning tax raids on BBC India offces – these are all actions taken with a clear purpose, to send out a strong message saying there will be repercussions if you dare to say something the government does not like.”

The project was shot in a country now deemed to be one of the most dangerous in the world to practice journalism. A 2022 report by Reporters Without Borders concluded: “An average of three or four journalists are killed in India in connection with their work every year. Terrifying coordinated campaigns of hatred and calls for murder

However, the Emmy-nominated journalist has fears for more than just her safety. “I have always known that the work we do as journalists requires taking constant risks,” she says. “But the fear now in India is that you could be punished for that work. And the way the government can come at you is not always direct.”

She continues: “This is what journalism is. It’s about telling diffcult stories, asking diffcult questions or to archive the present as it unfolds. It’s about not forgetting history. It’s what the writer Arundhati Roy said in the documentary – of course, by doing these interviews I took a big risk but I want it to be known that not all of us agreed with what was happening in this country,” she adds.

As for the future of journalism in India, Tandon believes it is going to be harder for the upcoming journalists. “India’s acceptance towards journalism is moving to the way it is in China. I am quite pessimistic about the future of democratic rights in India. Hopefully, young people like you will change that.”

“We constantly had to reset our phones in case people we interviewed were already tapped”

Image Credit: Associated Press

Like and subscribe: the rise of the journo infuencer

by Poppy Burton and Megan WarrenLister

Branding has always mattered to journalists. They carve out a niche, a distinct voice – a persona. All the greats traded on their own image to appeal to specifc audiences: it’s the edge that made Joan Didion cool, the searing factuality of Christopher Hitchens, even in Louis Theroux’s bumbling and gentle manner during interviews. But all of the above were journalists frst, public personas second, with their work defning how they were perceived. So what happens when people – infuencers specifcally – with a ready-made audience capitalise on their own clout and step into the world of journalism? Enter: the journo infuencer.

The term so far has been used to describe trained journalists who have pivoted to creating content online, like CNN’s Max Foster and TikTok star, Sophia Smith Galer. This demand for quick and engaging news updates from trusted voices favours techsavvy journalists with a keen awareness of where their viewers are looking; a good indicator of how journalism is changing to appeal to increasingly online audiences. Salla-Rosa Leinonen interviewed Galer in her research for LSE’s ‘Can journalists be infuencers?’ paper, and thinks fgures like her are democratising journalism’s core demographic.

“Especially in the younger audiences, we can see a clear change in social media usage,” she says. “It means we have to ask legacy media outlets to be more brave. We have to be able to embrace this new talent of very social media savvy journalists, who usually aren’t able to work in the more creative ways they’re capable of. It means that we have to value and understand this phenomenon more, and I think one really key factor is asking how we can approach people who are not interested in journalism at all.”

According to Reuters, 40 per cent of young people aged 18-24 say social media is their main source of news. A 2022 study from Ofcom paints a similar picture, with 22 per cent of teens turning to Instagram as a news source, closely trailed by TikTok and YouTube. For Leinonen, this refects the role that infuencers can play in increasing accessibility to journalism. The public’s appetite for online news content has been gainfully seized upon by organisations like The Washington Post, The Guardian, ITV News, and The Telegraph. But little has been said about infuencers stepping into the journalism space alongside established journo infuencers. Even less is said about the shift in language and approach to the work of the infuencers attempting to cross over.

On the surface, the journo infuencer pipeline is a natural one. As Symeon Brown wrote in Get Rich or Lie Trying, a book about the infuencer economy: “Once you have fgured out how to get people’s attention, you can monetise yourself as both a product and salesman.”

And if you happen to master

both, you could have a burgeoning career in journalism on your hands. So, why do the waters become muddied and why is the work of journo infuencers considered ‘content’ and not ‘reporting’? In a general sense, traditional journalists and infuencers operate in the same way, consistently following trends and promoting content. But in the infuencer realm, users already have established audiences. For Leinonen, this means infuencers can be valuable in the journalism space. “If we think of the very diverse audiences that we see online, they have more freedom to fgure out the kind of personalities they like, and who is most relatable to them,” she explains. “If we continue to do journalism solely as we have done in print and broadcast, we end up losing a lot of younger audiences who use social media.”

Sharma for the Newspaper Research Journal. As bestselling author Brown told The Guardian, having a niche is the bread and butter of being an infuencer, and the result is an online market of personas; ranging from purported relationship gurus to fnancial experts and activists. Though sometimes content overlaps with genuine expertise – the danger in journalistic terms comes when it doesn’t. This is when the cracks in the glossy sheen of journo infuencing start to show.

Prior to her latest documentary, McDermott had a second public Instagram account, one of many in the canon of ‘what I eat in a day’ type profles (often a euphemism for the documentation of mild orthorexia). Though she deleted the account post-documentary, its very existence could be an integral piece of the journo-infuence puzzle. Before, and even during flming, the perception of McDermott as an Instagram ftness blogger was well maintained, with her frequently sharing ‘transformation’ posts highlighting her weight loss.

According to research published by Leonie Wunderlich in the International Journal of Press, the parasocial nature of infuencer and audience relationships mean that users can actually be more trusting of infuencers than journalists, because of the heightened sense of personal connection. But this is complicated by differences between the two modes of work, and the respective content they produce.

“I think the core difference is the purpose of these actors and also their self-perception. Most journalists want to inform, infuencers want to sell,” Wunderlich says. “Journalism is bound to normative standards (two-sources, verifcation, facts, etc.) Whereas infuencers don’t have the same ethical guidelines to follow,” she explains.

Despite this, infuencer’s follower counts, often reaching the millions, mean they’re increasingly seen fronting documentaries that require the same kind of journalistic rigour we expect from seasoned professionals.

Take Zara McDermott and her 1.7 million Instagram followers. The latest of her roles saw her present a documentary on eating disorders for BBC Three. McDermott’s huge following meant its message had a far greater chance of reaching its intended audience of young women. But it also highlighted some ethical tensions. Should an infuencer who has historically done paid adverts for low-calorie protein powders be charged with interviewing vulnerable people with eating disorders? And is the unease of that exchange worth it if the journalism reaches a greater audience?

From cryptocurrency to ftness (previously McDermott’s purported area), the infuencer space is multi-faceted. A common element of infuencer appeal is the production of a particular kind of content, according to research by Justin Martin and Krishna

“I think there’s a borderline between what is reality storytelling and journalism,” says Leinoen. That distinction, she says, is in the hands of the publisher and the framing of the journo infuencers work: “I think the responsibility of the publisher is how they position these people, but also about how they defne the role.” Would the reality TV star really have been asked to front the programme had she not placed herself as a wellness afcionado online? While the former reality star tried to defend her posting habits by explaining that she has a genuine passion for ftness, it’s up to the teenagers of an inpatient eating disorder facility featured in her documentary to point out the harm her Instagram presence has caused. Her knowledge and interest in ftness could have made her an appropriate presenter, but the fact it’s up to children probably ten years younger than her to induce her revelation suggests otherwise.

Maybe the rise of journo infuencers like McDermott is the price we pay for the authenticity that we all expect and demand.

According to data gathered by Sideqik, the trait is important to 84 per cent of consumers when they make decisions about which infuencers to follow. With relatability – one of the many currencies of perceived authenticity – McDermott succeeded with her food-focused posting. ‘Look! She’s eating Gigi Hadid’s vodka pasta! I had that yesterday!’ We want authenticity, and microspecifc content, but still it’s a stretch to say this endows creators with journalistic credulity. Personal passion cannot always be confated with expert knowledge, and according to Sharma and Martin, consumers also value transparency, which can be undermined in the infuencer space because of their association with commercial speech and paid-for content.

Tied into this are perceptions around the subjectivity of infuencer content. Although Wunderlich, researcher at the Leibniz Institute for Media Research, recognises that subjectivity can be important, and

“Most journalists want to inform, infuencers want to sell”

hearing an infuencer’s opinion can help audiences to form their own, there are risks when this kind of content is consumed in an unqualifed way. “Many young people rely on infuencers for informational purposes and believe in what they say without critically questioning their intention and point of view,” Wunderlich explains. Although this might be true, she does acknowledge that having grown up online, younger users might be more competent and confdent in distinguishing between journalists and infuencers. Still, Leinonen says there needs to be a happy medium. As a producer at the Finnish Broadcasting Company, when Leinonen works with infuencers without training, they never work alone: “They will always have at least a producer, and usually another journalist behind them, to make sure we can fulfl the expectations and values of our publisher,” she says.

Enhancing the intersection between the two professions allows for the kind of relatability we all increasingly want from writers and journalists. Pandora Sykes’ recent collection What Writers Read is an insight into the demand created by our insatiable appetite to know what the people we like, like. With relatability (which inherently entails a large degree of disclosure) now prized among the journalistic profession, it seems only natural that the border of infuencer-country would become blurred, the latter being the experts in opening up – or seeming to open up –their lives for public inspection. There are overlaps in content production too.

On YouTube, the still preview squares for infuencer videos frequently come adorned with captions like ‘I tell ALL about my breakup’, or, ‘How I got over my frst date TRAUMA.’ With these excessive and emotive declarations common, there’s a defnitive overlap of roles. At a literary conference in Vienna reported on by the Post Script in 2018, Ted Coniver argued journalism and written culture has increasingly moved in the direction of the frst person perspective over the last thirty years. For Leinonen, this shift has been added to by the same underpinning principle of authenticity. But you could say these overlaps create a false association. Whilst according to Leinonen, the highly personal connection that infuencers have with their following is a central part of their power, traditional infuencer content is frequently perceived as unconnected to journalism.

Still, there are arguments in favour of a shift in this perception. “I think it’s a democratic question,” Leinonen says. “When

we talk about younger audiences, they most probably wouldn’t recognise the difference between what is journalistic content and what is simply informative. I think it’s very important that journo-infuencers make sure that people all know that they do journalistic work, that they fact-check and research things, because that should be present in the content as well.” Transparency is key for journalists who work on social media, because it means their audiences actually understand the value of the work that they do behind all of the content. Examining the labour behind journo-infuencing involves “considering how journalists are actually serving the different levels of our societies,” Leinonen says. With the increasing role of social media in the consumption of news and other journalistic content, and a notoriously

undiverse journalism industry, infuencers are well placed to enhance accessibility. Perhaps it’s just about clarifying the scope of their role.

The value placed on personal branding and its associated proftability will no doubt continue to be fertile ground for the infuencer-to-journalist pipeline. But rather than condemning individuals, we might be better off questioning the toxic alchemy of the attention economy, and our need to buy into the cult of individualism that got us here. Either way, the new journalistic landscape may not be a bad thing, and with appropriate constraints on content production and the application of journalistic rigour, journo infuencers could play a key part in democratising both the profession and the distribution of content.

Image credit: Salla-Rosa Leinonen

“It’s very important that journo infuencers make sure that people know that they do journalistic work”

Sakari Luthala and Marleena Lammiko

IS THE NEWS TOO DEPRESSING?

News avoidance has doubled in the last five years. Alice Wade finds out why, and how a positive approach is offering editors a solution

No news is good news, or so the saying goes. Given the current state of, well, everything — a pandemic, the war in Europe, and a cost-of-living crisis — it seems the old adage’s time has come. According to the Reuters Digital News Report (2022), the number of people avoiding the news has doubled in the last fve years. The study attributes the change to the increasingly depressing nature of the news, as well as the sheer abundance of negative content and the frequency with which it appears.

Almost half of those surveyed for the report said they were put off by the repetitiveness of news, especially around topics like covid-19 and politics. A further 29 per cent said they were worn out by news and 36 per cent of under 35s said the news brings their mood down.

This move away from bad news consumption has provoked some media brands to take a different approach, focusing on positives and possible solutions.

Nick Newman, who led the Reuters report, says there are two types of news avoiders. Selective news avoiders, who are interested in news but will cut back when they feel overwhelmed, and consistent news avoiders who say they avoid news entirely.

According to Ruth Palmer, Professor of Communication at IE University, it’s the total avoidance of news that is most concerning, because of its implications on the democratic functioning of society. The less informed people are, the less likely they are to engage politically and to vote. She fears this decline in information could lead to a fracturing of democracy; leaving people uninformed, and entrenching preconceived beliefs. “If people aren’t consuming news at all, they’re less likely to be operating from the basis of facts and information [which] could contribute to polarisation.”

A generation ago, people received information in manageable chunks over the course of the day, catching it on morning TV,

or reading it in the paper. Now, because of social media, “people can’t get away from it”, says Newman. Not only are we confronted with more news, but the sources we get it from are over saturated.

Another complaint is that avoiders feel overwhelmed and powerless in bad times. “People don’t see a way they can take action to make a difference regarding depressing topics,” says Palmer. It’s this perceived powerlessness that’s resulting in an increasing disillusionment with news.

The media have responded with uplifting stories and ‘solution’ journalism. Some have even implemented toggles that allow readers to sift out depressing news. Last year PinkNews launched a new feature called ‘the uplifting news flter’. The flter allows readers to sift out negative stories, offering them cheerier news. Chief Product Offcer, Sarah Watson says: “There are times when people need a pick-me-up and since PinkNews reports on many positive stories from around the globe, we wanted to give our audience control over their experience so they didn’t have to switch off.”

Though the feature is currently only available on IOS and Android, the response so far has been promising. Since launching the feature, engagement has risen from seven to twelve minutes and the app store rating has risen from 4.2 to 4.6 out of fve.

For selective news avoiders, a greater sense of control might help draw them back in periods of withdrawal, but for total avoiders, it is less likely to work. “I don’t think this is what people are looking for, but I do think that people want more control, especially in news alerts,” says Newman. Methods like these are unlikely to generate serious change with those who are completely disengaged since consistent avoiders won’t even discover the toggle Palmer agrees that personalisation could be useful in engaging selective news avoiders, saying: “It allows people to access news without it feeling costly. If someone fnds it incredibly emotionally draining, there is

a way for them to stay informed without having to feel so sapped.” Nevertheless, she says no matter how hard content is tweaked, “it’s not going to do any good for consistent avoiders”.

One response to this shift is to change the tone of news. Ashifa Kassam, freelance journalist and contributor to The Guardian’s ‘Upside’, a section that focuses on telling positive and uplifting stories, believes there is a growing appetite for positive news and ‘solution’ journalism. Many people avoid the news “because it’s become too depressing,” she explains. “We’re so conscious of the fact that these stories affect mental health and we don’t want readers to turn off,” she adds.

Positive News, which focuses on what’s going right in the world, offers uplifting content and solutions to negative stories. Sean Wood, chief executive, wants to “give people a way of seeing and engaging with the world that doesn’t harm their wellbeing, instead leaving them feeling empowered to respond.”

Wood emphasises the need for a constructive feedback mechanism that “allows society to self-correct” rather than disempowering people with an echochamber of hopeless news. “We need to continue to report problems, but we need to stop ignoring progress and solutions.”

He explains that the appetite for ‘solution’ content is growing, and that Positive News has seen this refected in its audience. “People are waking up to the negative impacts of negative news consumption and changing their media diets to support their wellbeing.”

Looking forward, Palmer argues “what’s going to work best is a mix of news”, emphasising the need for a good balance. People are growing impatient with what they see as a “bombardment” of depressing news. “People don’t want something completely different, they just don’t want everything to be so negative. Experimenting with different ways to deliver less negative news is important, it’s going to require a shift in what we see as traditional values.”

Threats, violence, and shattered glass: Reporting the Brazil insurrection

After watching a mob storm his country’s capital, Murillo Camarotto tells Caroline Tonks about the journalistic legacy of the chaos

Sitting in his apartment in Brasília, the capital of Brazil, Murillo Camarotto, spoke over Zoom about his experiences on 8 January 2023. A reporter at Valor Econômico, the largest fnancial newspaper in Brazil, he witnessed the insurrection by far-right followers of Jair Bolsonaro (the incumbent president) which was in protest against the election of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. He had just been sworn into offce as President of Brazil only a week before. Camarotto bore witness to it all, following the protesters into the Supreme Court where he saw their anger and rebellion in full force.

nobody knew exactly how big it was going to be.

“I was watching a livestream on YouTube produced by Bolsonaro’s fans. They were showing that they were approaching the Three Powers Plaza. I was expecting a

there were just observing the movement and doing nothing. Here in Brazil, the police are pretty sympathetic to Bolsonaro because he is a former member of the military. The police were there as people were invading Parliament and the Supreme Court, but they were only watching. They were doing nothing. They were talking with the protesters and taking selfes. These people were in a very comfortable situation to do all the things that they were about to do.

“It was a Sunday, and I was working from home. We had some information that there were Bolsonaro followers preparing a movement in the centre of Brasília, but

common demonstration, but after a moment, they were invading Congress. I called my boss and I went over.

“Brasília is not a big city, so I was able to get there in about 10 minutes. When I got there, the frst thing I saw was that there weren’t many police. The offcers that were

“It was not easy for me to shoot videos or interview people. The Bolsonaro supporters used to be really violent against the press. If you say that you are a reporter or identify as a journalist, you will have many problems. They will probably beat you. I had to work, not openly talking to people, but just observing. I had to shoot some videos when I could. It was not an organic movement; they had some leaders who were giving orders.

“When we were approaching the Supreme Court building, one guy said, ‘No videos

“The police were doing nothing. They were talking with the protesters and taking selfes”

A normal morning, turned to chaos

here!’, so in order to keep myself secret, I didn’t shoot at that moment. I tried to use the opportunities that I had to take notes or take videos.

“The Supreme Court was the main target. During the Bolsonaro term, he used to fght a lot with the judges in the Supreme Court, and because of that his followers hate them. It was their main target of destruction. The most powerful hate would be there. I approached the building and I was there the moment they got in and started destroying everything.

“Since it was Sunday, there was no one inside. [In the week] they wouldn’t have been able to get inside. There would have been reinforced security. If it did happen though, it would be very scary. They could have done terrible things: beating or even killing people.

“It’s not easy to describe perfectly what I was seeing because it brings mixed feelings. There were many old ladies, like my own grandmother. These people had a lot of hate, destroying things and carrying the chairs and tables, lighting fres, and breaking doors and windows. At the same time, they would stop and pray. The Bolsonaro supporters are linked to our Protestant Church here in Brazil. He got an important part of his votes from these religious people. They used to cry at the same time. Cry, pray, and destroy.

“I never imagined that they were trying to take power. These people were used by Bolsonaro and his social networks for a movement that had no specifc goal. They were not organised. It was a mess of destruction and hate. They never imagined that they would stay there and take power; that something important was going to happen. They were trying to use the violence

to show their satisfaction with the result of the election. They were not dreaming that they would take power, that was my impression.”

was beaten and kicked. They said that she was going to die. It was horrifc. As I was suspecting, she tried to talk to people and since the beginning, I was aware that that was going to be pretty impossible. I would not have had a good result. When I talked with her, she told me that she tried to interview a lady, and when they were talking someone approached and said that she was a reporter.

“Another reporter had a big camera and tried to take photos of the people. On his camera he had a tag from the newspaper he works for, Folha, the most important paper in Brazil, and the Bolsonaro followers really hate Folha. When they saw that he had a tag from there, they destroyed the camera.”

Repercussions for the rioters

“I was concerned that people would fnd out I was a journalist. I met with another colleague of a different newspaper and she was running. I needed to send information to the newsroom, so I had to stop and write something. I needed fve or ten minutes to do that, but I would go to a place where nobody could see what I was doing.

“If I was there with my phone, writing a quick report, and someone saw me writing and said, ‘He’s a journalist! He’s sending news!’, then I would have had problems. I tried to be really cautious.

“After that, I had information that two or three colleagues were identifed by the protestors and were beaten. One photographer had his equipment stolen and broken and another colleague who was reporting for The Washington Post was surrounded by a large group of people and

“The riot on January 8th was the last chance that Bolsonaro’s fans had to do something. The repercussions were pretty bad for them. More than 1,000 people were put behind bars. I think today, we have more than 600 still in prison. It was terrible for them.

“After that, I can’t say that these people disappeared, but they are pretty scared by the power of the law. Many people that were there that day, the rioters, seemed to not know exactly what they were doing, and about the repercussions. They were committing crimes.

“For me, this was really important. The power of misinformation. These people were changed by Bolsonaro’s networks for years. They were in a situation where they thought they could do anything and nothing would happen. On that day, they discovered the power of the law.

Journalists were moving targets

“I think that for journalists, it’s important to know what these people are thinking... all actions have explanations”

“The day after, I went to the front of the prison to see this group of people coming in buses and going to be put behind bars. It was pretty clear to me that many people seemed to not understand why this was happening. ‘I was protesting!’ ‘I was patriotic!’ ‘I am not a criminal!’ Many people really didn’t know the size of what they were doing.”

a very radical Bolsonarist and he left the newspaper. But he worked with us for ten years. He knew that we were doing serious

most part, his staff used the same behaviour. It’s impossible to trust someone.

“It’s really diffcult to cover a government and administration as a political reporter in this kind of environment. Because we are working on a sinking ship. We are always viewed as enemies so it’s diffcult to cover the government regardless of your political preference.

“It’s impossible to say a specifc number, but I can assure that most people left their homes from other parts of the country and travelled two or three days in a bus to do this. These people were fed by Bolsonaro’s social media. Most people did this because they were fed misinformation by social media and fake news.

“It’s diffcult to talk to people that are living in this environment because no matter the way you show or try to tell the reality, or show the facts, it simply doesn’t matter. These people who if you say the sky is blue, they say no it’s your opinion. ‘My opinion is different. I don’t trust you. I trust in my friends and my leader and my group.’ It’s very frustrating.

“Here in Brazil, it’s very similar to the United States where when you bring up arguments, you can’t discuss your own opinions. For example, we had a colleague here at my newspaper, not a journalist, but a guy on the illustration staff. This guy became

work. When we were talking about politics, he completely changed his mind and said that I was a liar and against Bolsonaro. It’s impossible to work with people like this.”

“We had a few situations that were scary with Bolsonaro fans. Even on the streets when Bolsonaro would talk or have demonstrations, it’s diffcult to get in and cover. Many media companies here stopped using identifable equipment on the streets.

“It’s diffcult to fnd a Bolsonaro follower who is willing to talk and have an honest chat. It is diffcult to fnd these people to talk with me. I am pretty curious about these people: their beliefs, why they’re acting like that.

“It is important to say Bolsonaro tried to mimic Trump multiple times. Since the beginning of the government, many things that Bolsonaro said and did were very similar, if not inspired, by Trump. Until the people tried to break in and spark the protests, we were not thinking about that, but in the moment, yes completely.”

“In Brazil, Uber drivers are mostly fans of Bolsonaro. So, when I am in Ubers, I try to talk. I don’t say my preferences and I try to make it seem like I am a frustrated Bolsonaro fan. I try to extract some information from these people. But if I identify that I am a journalist, they say they will not talk with me and that I am not honest. That I am fake news.

“During Bolsonaro’s term of four years, it was frustrating. Sometimes diffcult because they used to only put information out to friendly media or social networks. For the

“I would like to talk more with these people because I think that for journalists, it’s important to know what these people are thinking because, in my opinion, all actions have explanations. You have to discover why these people are acting the way they do. To extract that information, you sometimes have to fake that you’re on the same side.”

Reporting on political fgures like Bolsonaro

The Capitol riots vs the Brazil insurrection

“On that day, they discovered the power of the law”

the spread of fake news and misinformation impacted Brazil

Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is sworn into offce

Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, a member of the left-leaning Workers’ Party, becomes the president-elect of Brazil

The general election is held in Brazil

Separating the self from the story

“It’s diffcult because we [the journalists] are citizens as well. We are citizens and it is very hard to see your country in this situation. It was hard to build a democracy in Brazil. We’ve had more than 20 years in a military dictatorship, so when you see that, it’s diffcult to report. For me personally, it’s not really hard to separate myself and my opinions from my reporting. I believed that I could do this on this day. I could do it in the right way to not mix my personal feelings with this story.”

As power shifts, so does journalism

“It is impossible to do the same journalism in a democratic government and an autocratic government. The autocratic

government used to attack the media all the time. We tried to do the job, but it was impossible. We are not working on the same felds. If you are working in a democratic feld, you can do the work. If you are not, it’s impossible. I would say that as journalists, during the Bolsonaro time, we were more united as a class. We were journalists and we were oppressed. We had to be tougher with the government. The media was pretty tough with Bolsonaro because it was impossible not to be.”

Life after the insurrection

“The atmosphere is different. I would say that we are only now starting to relax a bit. The frst few months of the new government, we were still talking about the previous one. So, I can say that now we are starting to talk about the new government. Things are returning closer to normal and

the atmosphere is different. Many people say that they forgot how good it was to live in a normal atmosphere.

“The new problems are beginning to come. We are trying to forget, in impossible ways, what happened and move forward. There are many things to investigate about the past, we cannot forget that. New problems will be coming, and we will have to pay attention to that.

“I understand that it will be impossible to forget what happened, even for those who wish it. The country will still be discussing this attack for a long time to come. It will be present in the public debate for many years. It is part of our life now. A scar on our history.”

“It’s a scar on our history”

Protesters start moving towards Congress, police are seen chatting with them Protesters start to break through barricades

The storming of Praça dos Três Poderes, or Three Powers Plaza, begins Protesters gather on the roof of the Congress building and invade the Supreme Court

Police forces fnally gain control of the area

‘Who’s ever heard of

ick Hope is an award-winning freelance sports journalist, part-time BBC Olympic and Paralympic correspondent, and full-time dyslexic. “Who’s ever heard of a dyslexic journalist?” he asks. Not many like to broadcast their membership of this club, making them diff cult to fnd. Once located, I spoke to three individuals about their personal journeys and how they have come to embrace dyslexia.

Journalism doesn’t seem the obvious path for someone who struggles with the fundamental elements of writing. There is a subtle irony in the pursuit of something you are intrinsically programmed to fail at. Journalism seemingly embodies every challenge faced by people with dyslexia, putting itself top of the restricted pursuits list. But this confict requires a redefnition of what it means to be a dyslexic thinker.

Hope is self-deprecating in his irony, but it refects a genuine assumption that dyslexia is an obstacle that prohibits certain routes in life. Dyslexia is a term shrouded in misconceptions, one of the most obvious being that dyslexics are at a disadvantage when it comes to writing. According to a YouGov report from 2016, only three per cent of people see dyslexia as anything other than a disadvantage.

Generally, dyslexia is considered to affect an individual’s abilities in the arenas of writing, spelling and grammar. In fact, it infuences a person’s cognitive profle, which means that they think differently. Often people with dyslexia have strengths in creative and lateral thinking, problem solving and communication. This can be great for conjuring up story ideas and developing innovative approaches to journalism. According to Nick Posford, chief executive of the British Dyslexia Association, “dyslexic individuals are often those who see the big picture and spot new opportunities for innovation and improvement”, which accounts for the vast number of successful dyslexic entrepreneurs. Challenges come in the form of spelling, reading and memorising facts. Simple things like mistaking dessert and desert, or repeating words - but the result is brilliant and unique pieces of writing that keep sub-editors in a job.

Many view these challenges as a direct threat to the prospect of a job in journalism. Philippa Kelly, writer at the British Journal of Photography she originally felt alienated from the industry. “I was under the impression dyslexia would be a barrier for a writing job, I didn’t think it was achievable for me,” she says.

orking in disguise

Being ‘found out’ was an anxiety experienced by all of the interviewees. There is a sense that journalists with dyslexia are living a lie - imposters in a feld where they don’t belong.

Johanna Payton, freelance lifestyle journalist and former Commissioning Editor at the

Three journalists explain how they harnessed their dyslexia to achieve success

a dyslexic journalist?’

avoided the traditional path in journalism for much of her career. She preferred to work from home, rather than have an editor constantly looking over her shoulder at unedited copy. “I was subconsciously worried about being found out in some way if I went to work for a newspaper,” she says, explaining that although dyslexia never held her back, it certainly framed her career. People often view Payton’s success as proof dyslexia was never a barrier for her, but she contests the idea that her journey was unaffected by the struggles she faced. “I found a way to succeed by avoiding certain situations - like a traditional

oing it differently

The fear of being uncovered as a fraud is so strong that individuals do everything possible to avoid it, including reading their copy 15,000 times more than other writers.

“I’m sure my poor fatmates are fed up of hearing everything I’ve ever written,” Kelly jokes. Payton shares this obsession with reading aloud. She recounts her dread at the prospect of a proofreading test for her role at the Guardian. “I just have to check over and over and then I catch everything,” she admits. “I actually did really well, it’s just that the experience is more stressful to someone with dyslexia.”

Utilising software such as ‘type to talk’ programmes that speak your copy back to you can also be useful in the editing process. Finding alternative ways of doing core tasks allows challenges to be mitigated. There are benefts too, the ritual thoroughness of copy checking often makes writers with dyslexia more accurate than other journalists.

“You fle the most accurate

She has no doubt this is due to her endless checking and paranoia.

“Ultimately it has made me a better writer and better journalist,” she says. Knowing your personal struggles forces you to double and triplecheck to ensure nothing gets missed.

enefts of the “disadvantage”

This is not the only advantage of being a dyslexic journalist. Creative thinking is something that comes naturally. Thinking outside the box is vital within journalism in order to challenge traditional perspectives. Finding unique angles to approach stories with is also a valuable tool in such a competitive industry. Harnessing these skills can be incredibly rewarding. Hope, Payton, and Kelly, have all had amazing success as freelancers where pitching ideas takes centre stage. “The creative side of my brain is fring on all cylinders, and I wouldn’t change that for anything,” Payton explains.

It can be benefcial in other ways, too. Hope reminisces about his frst

stuff, it’s amazing, you’re the best freelancer we have,” was feedback Payton received from one editor.

prime time slot with the BBC, reporting from the Rio Olympics in 2016. As he was wrapping up he became aware of a technical issue that forced him to improvise live for six minutes. “It was terrifying at the time but a completely off the wall experience, another thing I never thought I’d be capable of,” he says. Dyslexia meant that he was familiar with pressure and ready to adapt and embrace challenges as they arose.

Excessive planning also helps to alleviate other anxieties associated with dyslexia, and Hope is constantly tuned into sport news and related content. Building up a vast pool of knowledge has proved to be benefcial, however speaking amid a menagerie of Olympic memorabilia (from London to Beijing) he explains that this is not what he is most proud of. Despite travelling across the world to report on games, he considers the quality with which he’s now able to write to be his biggest achievement. “At age 11, I had the reading age of a seven-year-old. To go from that, to winning national awards for writing - that is what I’m most proud of.”

Overcoming barriers is central to all three journalists’ stories. “At the crux of it, I don’t feel it diminishes the existence of those possible barriers to acknowledge there are ways around them,” Kelly summarises. Dyslexia provides qualities that, if nurtured, can be advantageous.

Diversity in newsrooms is something to be celebrated, and always benefts the output of the publication. Actively recruiting individuals who have an alternative experience of life and education creates an expanded voice that better speaks to the country’s diversity.

All these advantages considered, are we ready to change the headline and let go of the misconception that dyslexia is a barrier to this career, or even the idea of it as a disadvantage at all? These individuals have redefned what it means to be dyslexic in their own lives. They are not dyslexic journalists; they are journalists with dyslexia who have proven it is no barrier to success. If anything, shouldn’t we be actively hiring more journalists with dyslexia, not to contribute to the diversity optics, but for their desirable skills?

“The creative side of my brain is fring on all cylinders, and I wouldn’t change that for anything”

“At age 11, I had the reading age of a seven-year-old. To go from that, to winning national awards for writing - that is what I’m most proud of”

Slow news is good news

Traditional media is past its prime. Lucy Sarret explores the slow and steady alternative to the 24-hour news cycle

The fast-paced world of news reporting has become not only unsustainable for audiences, but also for journalists.

According to Jennifer Rauch, author of Slow News: Why Slow is Satisfying, Sustainable, and Smart, it has become increasingly diffcult to cope with.

“For a lot of journalists, the fast pace of newsrooms leads to burnout. And a lot of journalists who turn to slow news just can’t keep up with that pace, and so more and more of them are looking to do less quantity, but more quality.”

Audiences are also overwhelmed with the constant news cycle. Reuters Institute 2022’s Digital News Report found that 46 per cent of people often or sometimes avoided the news, almost twice as many as seen in 2016, with many citing the reason behind this

choice was that the news lowered their mood.

In light of this news fatigue, exacerbated by the pandemic and the invasion of Ukraine, more people are turning to slow news alternatives.

But how has consumer behaviour shifted in favour of this model? And how relevant can the traditional media cycle claim to be nowadays?

Lynn Anderson Clarke, CEO and cofounder of The Know, a slow journalism newsletter, sees this play out with her own audience: “We often hear from our readers that people had turned off from the news, which was very surprising. After the pandemic, people needed time to refect on how it’s changed our world, and a lot of us felt the need to slow down the way in which we interacted with the media.”

“Every day, we looked at the death reports and the growing numbers, which is not good

for anyone’s mental health. I understand why people are doing this, it makes total sense. I think we can be the solution.”

Traditional news cycles have created systemic issues. Having worked for American media giant NBC for almost 10 years, Clarke admits that the problems become apparent when you are a cog in a big machine.

“The news and media industry’s business model is based on clicks. And you get clicks by telling people what they want to hear. I think the news model is broken, because it’s an economy of attention,” she says.

Since covid, news coverage and its reception has evolved greatly. While people are still tied to this ‘economy of attention’, with content offered on every screen they look at, they are also tired of constant reporting and speculating what might happen next in world events.

Robert Orchard, co-founder and editor

of Delayed Gratifcation, a quarterly slow journalism magazine which defnes itself as “proud to be the last on breaking news”, says: “We’re obsessed with getting everything immediately, because we’ve been conditioned by social media, our phone, traditional media, etc. But there’s space for something else; [our magazine] doesn’t tell you what’s happening right now, we wait and take our time and look back to analyse.”

The rise of social media has made audiences more likely to use these platforms as their main source of news. According to WaveMaker Global, 39 per cent of 18-24 year-olds admit that they already choose these sites over traditional media outlets.

This is a key shift in consumer behaviour, as platforms like TikTok and Instagram shape the way in which individuals consider news to be specifcally curated to their interests.

The success of Tortoise Media, launched by British journalist and former Director of BBC News, James Harding, demonstrates this shift in news consumption. Branding itself as a solution to news fatigue by giving people a few key stories to focus on, and investigating them more in-depth, the company has created a membership community of over 110,000 consumers, and a monthly social reach of 12 million.

Tortoise Media’s crowdfunding venture also speaks to the demand for slowly produced, curated journalistic content. In 2018, the company managed to quadruple its initial Kickstarter target and raise over half a million pounds to focus on organised listening and deep reporting.

Imy Harper (MA Broadcast, 2018), who works at Tortoise Media, has noticed the team grow from seven people when she joined in 2018 to over 50 employees today.

Andrew Butler, Head of Social and PR at the company, says nearly 80 per cent of their audience listen through their various podcasts and that it has attracted a younger audience, whose average age is 29.

Data sourced by Nielson Norman Group shows that web pages have about 30 seconds to grab the attention of their viewers before they decide to click away. In half a minute, viewers will assess the quality of the content they see, and choose to click away or stay on the page.

In a world of endless clickbait articles, the number of poor-quality pieces has skyrocketed, making viewers even more hypercritical of any web page they visit. According to Inc Magazine, about a quarter of online headlines are clickbait (25.27 per cent). However, a 2022 study has shown that a clickbait headline is, on average, shared almost 50 times less than nonclickbait headlines.

As Rob Orchard of Delayed Gratifcation explains: “Instead of being an immediate reaction to the news, people want more of an informed and analytical piece that gives you more information than regular news.”

Jennifer Rauch speaks to the relevance of Delayed Gratifcation: “A lot of other places will forget something that happened 3-6 months ago. [This magazine] does what not many are able to do, it captures the lasting consequences that we’ve forgotten about.”

Audiences look for more researched, detailed pieces that will give them the information they need in one place.

This approach evidently appeals to audiences. Since its launch in 2011, Delayed Gratifcation has grown from an “experimental” project between fve journalists about a relatively unexplored concept to a successful magazine which will celebrate the anniversary of their 50th issue in May this year.

In a world of increasing digitisation, producing a print-only quarterly publication, which aimed to be predominantly funded by readers, could seem, at frst glance, ill-advised. But Delayed Gratifcation has managed to reach this goal, despite the frst years being “tricky”.

A print-only publication is also not necessarily the perilous move it might seem. Indeed, a lot of individuals seem to be shifting to very curated content.

Clarke of The Know, says: “How we contribute to slow journalism is by collecting and curating content. Our journalists will read 10 sources on one topic, and produce a piece with all the facts with the aim of limiting any bias. The world is complex, and getting more complex every day. We want to simplify for our audience with well-researched, good information.”

With slow news organisations booming, the rational future for the traditional media cycle seems bleak, as slow journalism may be inching ever-closer to its irrelevance.

Rauch summarises: “Moving forward, we need to work smarter, not harder. As much for the wellbeing of audiences as for journalists, who suffer from burnout due to extenuating deadlines and draining hours, we have a duty to push for broader changes because slowing down is a luxury.”

Rob Orchard of Delayed Gratifcation

Delayed Gratifcation will be celebrating its 50th anniversary in May

Lynn Anderson Clarke of The Know

I’m NOT a celebrity... Get me out of here!

Kiran Duggal speaks to writers about their relationship with fame

Most journalists would say they didn’t choose this profession for the fame. That telling other people’s stories is the beauty of the job –not becoming the story yourself. However, what happens when you become recognised beyond the byline? Some become columnists, podcasters or authors. Others venture into TV. So how do journalists deal with newfound fame?

Polly Vernon

After her controversial Observer article, ‘Admit it. You hate me because I’m thin’, was published in 2003, Polly Vernon has experienced the pitfalls of gaining notoriety as a journalist. “I did get the whole of The

Guardian/Observer shut down at one point because somebody sent me what we thought was anthrax,” she says with a laugh. “I was reasonably sure it wasn’t anthrax. Not entirely. The whole building was shut down and there were people running around with hazmat suits testing this powder.”

Dealing with hate does not faze Vernon when writing about her beliefs. Her column in Grazia is a prime example of using her platform to share her views on abortion.

“The abortion rights stuff has been really interesting. Because I know that subject back to front, I can argue it until I’m blue in the face. I don’t care and I’ve discovered it’s impossible to slut shame me,” Vernon says enthusiastically. “I have sex. What do you think you’re

exposing here? Part of me is still a 16-year-old girl who thinks it’s the coolest thing ever.”

Whilst trolls usually hide behind their screens, there are rare occasions when a journalist gets to meet the person who has been making their life a living hell. In Vernon’s case, this turned out to be her own neighbour.

“I eventually went over to her, and I said, ‘Do you know who I am?’ And she went, ‘Yes, and I don’t regret a single word that I said’,” Vernon explains, laughing in disbelief. “I said ‘Okay, shall we read some of it out to your husband who seems to be sitting there?’”

She sighs. “In your head you’re going to have some great moment like in a rom-com where you come out triumphant, but in reality it doesn’t work like that.”

Jay Rayner

Jay Rayner, food critic for The Observer, knows all too well the repercussions of when your face becomes recognisable. “Journalism is not for people seeking fame. It’s not a classic route or should it be because you shouldn’t get in the way of the story,” he says.

Rayner has become a household name due to his appearances on MasterChef and his witty but erudite food analysis. “For good or ill, I was the bloke off the telly,” he says. However, this comes with its challenges.

there’s nothing they can actually do to change things around besides seating him in a nicer place. Alluding to Jimi Famuera’s review of Socca for the Evening Standard where he likens being put in the back room to being in Siberia, Rayner says “I know I will never get put in Siberia, let’s put it that way.”

Despite his work on television, Rayner reiterates, that, above all, he is a reporter frst.

“There’s always a notebook in my back pocket. And long before I started writing a column, I was eating up the shoe leather going and interviewing people.” To some extent, his increase in notoriety has complicated his ability to report.

“You need to not be recognisable. You almost need to be bland so that you can knock on a door and start asking questions without who you are distracting the person you’re trying to interview,” Rayner warns.

“It’s not about you, it’s about them.”

turning up on Masterchef or taking part in a game show, those are choices I chose to do,” he says. “So don’t whine about it, because at any point, you could just pack it in.”

Kate Spicer

One of the caveats of getting her frst big break as a sex columnist for Details magazine was that it required Kate Spicer to have a photo byline. “Once you have your picture taken wearing rubber, obviously you become a bit more memorable.”

But Spicer says being memorable comes with consequences.

“I am recognised. There’s no point in pretending I’m not. I always book under a pseudonym,” says Rayner on visiting new food spots to review.

“Restaurants are like plays. When you go to see a play, there is nothing they can do to change the experience a particular individual has. They’ve rehearsed it; there are actors, scripts. That’s it. The set is designed.”

Rayner laughs as he acknowledges that if they know he’s coming,

On a more personal note, Rayner contemplates the lack of privacy that comes with being recognised.

“If you see someone you recognise off the telly in a hospital, probably best not to go up to them and ask, ‘Are you the bloke off Masterchef?’”

Despite this, Rayner has zero regrets surrounding his career. After growing up watching his mother, the late Claire Rayner, dabble with the spotlight, he knew what he was signing up for. “Whether it be

“You cease to be able to do interesting, stealthy, or just quietly hover around the edges of things,” she explains. One issue that’s elevated by notoriety is the consequence of writing behind a paywall.

“You’re always writing. You do one piece and you move on to the next and it’s that endless cycle of pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure,” says Spicer. “Most of the stuff I write for is for The Sunday Times so it doesn’t come up in searches. What people get is a piece I wrote about love addiction or they’ll get the childless stuff which is an issue for me.”

Spicer has written extensively on her regrets over not having children. And writing about dead pets is not above her paygrade either: “If people are googling me to fnd out if I’m credible to talk to, the frst thing that comes up is me writing about my dead dog.”

The opinion that frst person pieces are easier to write frustrates Spicer.

“I’ve just spent f***ing fve days writing a piece about Manchester, and I still don’t really like it,” laughs Spicer. “But then I get called by someone asking me to write about why Stevie Nicks is important to me, and I’ll write in two hours and get paid more or less the same. You know, do the math.”.

Nevertheless, Spicer understands the importance of the frst person narrative. “They touch people because they discuss issues where people feel heard,” she says. “When I wrote about the dog dying I was cringing inside, but if we can’t as journalists communicate with people and their feelings and make them feel seen in this day and age, then what are we meant to do? You can’t just all be dry.”

“It’s that endless cycle of pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure”

“If you see someone off the telly in a hospital, probably best not to go up to them and say ‘are you the bloke off Masterchef’”

The trans journalists battling media bias

trans

ATotaljobs poll in 2021 of 400 trans people in the UK found that 65 per cent of trans people don’t reveal their gender identity at work. In a public-facing job such as journalism, the decision to come out at work isn’t just to your colleagues. It’s to the whole world.

The media has historically been hostile in its reporting on trans issues. This often makes trans journalists feel unsafe being visible in their workplace. City alumni Ændra Rininsland (Interactive, 2012) often works behind-the-scenes at the Financial Times. As a senior developer, they work on creating graphs or maps with bylines that tend to fy under the radar of the public. This partial invisibility provides them a level of safety at work.

“I look at some of the outward hostility that other trans journalists encounter and I consider myself fortunate to be out of that line of fre, given that the work I do is not as immediately apparent,” Rininsland explains. “I see [transphobia] as a simmering undercurrent in the industry. It’s something that prevents me from being as ambitious as I’d possibly like to be. I’d probably pitch a bit more and work on more visible projects but

I worry about the backlash that I’ll get.”

A 2020 investigation by IPSO revealed there has been a 400 per cent increase in coverage of trans issues in the last decade. Without context, these statistics sound like something to be championed. However, when this only spans trans criminals, murder, and negativity, the atmosphere surrounding trans issues in the media is overwhelmingly hostile.

You need not look much further than this year’s media coverage surrounding rapist Isla Bryson, who transitioned during

her trial. The phrase “transgender rapist” appeared in the headlines of all major news outlets in the UK. With a severe lack of positive press balance this narrative, phrases like this contributes to one prominent message from the media: all transgender people are dangerous. When, in actuality, the transgender and non-binaryidentifying community are too often generalised and grossly misunderstood in the media.

“The press’ treatment of trans issues has been appalling, and a major vector in the UK’s ongoing lurch into fascism,’’ Juliet Jacques, author and flmmaker, says. “It’s been widely said [within the LGBTQIA+ community] that the contemporary coverage of trans and non-binary people resembles the coverage of gay men at the heights of the HIV/AIDS crisis –which led to the passing of Section 28 – and it’s true.”

Juliet Jacques apologises at the end of her email for being so pessimistic. Described by Gay Times as “one of the UK’s most pioneering transgender writers”, Jacques has written about the trans experience for the last decade.

Her most recent book, Front Lines: Trans Journalism 2007-2021, documents her

In an industry filled with hostility, is it any wonder that

journalists often feel segregated? By Ella Gauci and Ciéra Cree

Ændra Rininsland

“I’d probably pitch a bit more but I worry about the backlash”

“Anticipate that it’s not always going to be easy”

struggle to bring trans stories to front pages of the UK press. However, now 13 years after Jacques began writing, very little seems to have changed.

Stonewall’s pivotal Trans Report in 2017 found that one in eight trans people have been attacked physically while at work.

While journalists often have the safety of

What are the biggest challenges for trans journalists?

“Along with the aggressively transphobic climate engineered by media owners and editors, it's the fact that many trans people are struggling fnancially. This means they can't do the unpaid internships and other labour required to get into the media.” –Juliet Jacques, freelance journalist, flmmaker, and author.

“The fact that legacy publications continue to dismiss trans people and trans issues as a matter of opinion and engage in both sidesism.” – Linda Codega, staff writer at io9.

“The discourse is so vitriolic. We’re put into this zero sum dialogue where we either exist or we don’t. There’s no space for nuance and it’s a topic that requires an abundance of nuance. There’s no way you can classify the entirety of the trans community under one generalisation.” –

being behind a keyboard, it doesn’t mean that they don’t receive discrimination. Writers like Jacques have been “alienated” by the media for refusing to comply with “discussions of trans issues on terms set exclusively by our opponents”.

The road to removing transphobia from within the press is not singular or easy.

Ændra Rininsland, Senior Developer

at Financial Times.

However, trans journalists remain hopeful that transphobia can slowly exit the industry, and in its place make way for mor LGBTQ+ writers to enter.

“Anticipate that it’s not always going to be easy but things will get better over time,” Rininsland offers as words of advice for other trans writers. “If writing about LGBTQ+ topics, too, is something that you’re passionate about, I wouldn’t let fear of the industry itself be something that prevents you from pursuing that.”

When cis-identifying journalists are left to write about LGBTQ+ topics, they are unable to understand them from a sense of lived experience – they will be writing only about things that they have heard about, as opposed to circumstances they have been in or what they have felt.

This means that the writers will, in fact, be writing about something they know nothing about, leading to many articles about trans journalists producing misiformation and being grounded in stereotypes or

assumptions. With a large portion of transrelated media coverage being reported in a bad light, this skewed cycle of perception is only encouraged to continue. In order to prevent the perpetuation of this cycle, it is a must to push back against this media bias –against all of the vilifcation, the “othering” and the taboo. And the best way to do this is for people who truly understand what it means to be a part of the trans experience to be the people who are documenting it.

For Rininsland, this is a change which needs to happen now. “There’s never been a greater need for LGBTQ+ journalists, and being able to present LGBTQ+ stories well,” Rininsland said. “If it’s not us who are reporting the stories of our own community, then we are relying on people outside of the community to represent us.”

To read some good examples of trans and LGBTQ+ content, our interviewees recommend paying a visit to Pink News, the FT and Them online.

Juliet Jacques

“There’s never been a greater need for LGBTQ+ journalists”

HOW TO

10SPOT A LIE IN WAYS

A practical guide to separating fact from fiction

by Emily Smith

The internet is awash with edited images, videos, and altered narratives, all of which are getting increasingly diffcult to spot. XCity spoke to Jack Taylor, Open Source Intelligence (OSINT) Producer and part of the verifcation team at Sky News, about how he detects false material. Along with our own research, here are some of Taylor’s top tips to stop fake news.

Gut Feeling – Fake news is designed to elicit an emotional response. The material will either be so outrageously agreeing with you and your point of view or so extremely disagreeing that you’ll immediately want to engage with it. Especially when it comes to news, the longer and more aggressively you work on a story, the more familiar you become with discourse surrounding it – this is where your gut feeling truly becomes a tool you can rely on.

An example can be seen in the recent altered pictures of past US presidents with mullets, as reported on the New York Post’s site. You can trust your suspicions when faced with a picture of Abraham Lincoln sporting a mullet and aviators.

Context – Taylor says that 90 per cent of the stuff he sees that’s classed as fake is probably just used out of context. In many cases, the actual footage may be unedited and objectively true. However, where the misinformation lies is in the context it’s being used in. One example is videos that were alledgedly posted from the recent tragedy in Turkey, showing fallen buildings. The footage was legitimate, but they weren’t actually from Turkey. What they actually showed were clips from Syria.

Source – Credible sources are where journalists get their scoops, quotes, and information, which is why it’s important to be able to sniff out an unreliable one quickly. When looking at an image, video or statement that seems to be questionable, it is always a good idea to fnd a second source. With an important news story, such as political news, if you can only fnd one account or video covering the story – the likelihood is that it’s been fabricated. This is where Deep Fakes can be easily spotted. An example can be seen in 2019, when a video of a supposedly intoxicated Nancy Pelosi was recorded at an offcial event, accusing a former US president of a cover-up. The viral clip had been AI-altered and was the only footage of the supposed drunken speech. If it had been real, there would’ve been multiple sources of coverage.

Image Quality – With picture editing becoming increasingly more accessible, there’s an infux of altered and edited pictures fooding social media. And we’re not just talking beauty flters. One easy giveaway is the differences in the pixels around the altered subject. There will be a disruption in the pixels between the background of the original image and the edges of the edited object or area.

Develop a Critical Mindset – Alongside trusting your gut, having a critical mindset is important to catching the frst signs of misinformation and starting the process of questioning the validity of material.

Cam Harless Altered picture of Abraham Lincoln

Video Editing – If you suspect a video has been altered, you can use apps such as Vegas Pro to split up the frames and fnd faults that were made by the video creator when fabricating the visuals. Prior to this step, if a video has multiple cuts within a clip then it’s already been edited to ft a certain narrative and to follow a decided story. Blurring within the video is also a big red fag of tampered visuals.

Geolocation – A less quick fx is to attempt to locate the video or image you’re questioning. You can do this by looking for distinctive infrastructure, unique landscapes and audio features that may give you clues as to where the footage is located. If a video briefy shows a shop sign, you can search for the shop on Google Earth in the suspected city and enter street view. This will then allow you to observe the surroundings and identify similarities with the video or image you are verifying.

An example is the crowd crush that took place in Seoul last Halloween. Footage that started emerging from crowd perspectives were verifed to be in that exact location by crossreferencing the street and business signs that can be seen in the video to Google Maps.

Sweat the Small Stuff – Dates, spelling, names, fgures, statistics. When it comes to misinformation there is no detail too small or irrelevant. It is important to check these smaller, less obvious details as they often lead to bigger reactions or mistakes. Although harder to spot, taking time to fact-check before reposting or reporting this type of information can save you later down the line and avoid libel cases.

Reverse Image Searches – This type of search will also highlight altered imagery, as by putting a suspected false or tampered with image through a Google Image search, you’ll be alerted to any previous uses and locations of the image.

Snopes – As an independent online publication site for fact checking, Snopes deal with checking information posted online, investigating recent news stories and particularly controversial claims that have been made online. They either fnd the suspicious stories themselves or receive enquiries via the public. These can be about anything from the royal family to digitally manipulated footage of political fgures.

Wikimedia Commons

A lie detector test back in the day

Crowd crush in Seoul

Will Ripley Via Song Sehyun

LISTINGS

XCity catches up with alumni from every year since the department opened in 1977 to hear about the paths they’ve taken since graduation

ADAM MAYERS

Diploma

Contributing editor to the Internet Wealth Builder and writer for the Toronto Globe & Mail’s Report on Business

By Megan Geall & Lucy Sarret

What’s the most useful thing City taught you about journalism?

The importance of a broad perspective, research, and fairness and accuracy in reporting.

Who did you think was going to be a big name in the industry from your year on the course?

JON SLATTERY

Diploma

The class of ‘78 included David Brindle and Alan Travis (both The Guardian) and we have remained friends. David sits on the board of several mental health charities and Alan is writing a book on Margaret Thatcher.

How has the world of journalism changed since you left City?

Retired

former deputy editor of Press Gazette

By Megan Geal

What did you fnd most diffcult about getting started in journalism?

Finding a way in. There was only one postgraduate course in Cardiff when I graduated. Then I spotted an ad for the new City course in the New Statesman and applied.

What is one standout moment in your career?

When I frst started at Press Gazette, we got the story that Eddy Shah was to launch a new paper called Today using new technology and bypassing the print unions. It was the beginning of the end of the old Fleet Street, where we were based, and soon the printers and journalists would all be gone.

What is a memorable interview you’ve conducted?

When I worked on an evening paper, I was sent to interview the wrestler Big Daddy, whose real name was Shirley Crabtree. I asked him if wrestling was faked. He said it wasn’t. Big Daddy was 6’6 and weighed 26 stone, so I didn’t argue.

Time has been compressed, perspective lost, and very little sober second thought. The internet means people can listen to and read what confrms their beliefs, ignoring the rest, which breaks down civil societies.

Why did you get into journalism?

I was just nosey, I think. I left school at 15 with only English as a qualifcation, and so it appeared as a possible career choice. A random chat with a local hack in my hometown in Warwickshire convinced me it was an exciting, moderately disreputable job that might suit me. It was another fve or six years after studying English and American Studies at university until I decided to have a fnal big push to get into journalism. I’ve never forgotten the day the City acceptance dropped through my letter box.

Who is your favourite journalist and why?

There are many, but the late Gordon Greig, my political editor at the Daily Mail back when David English was editor (also a brilliant journalist), stands out. Gordon was a great story-getter, had a contacts book to kill for, was widely trusted across the political spectrum (as far as that ever goes in the job), and had a wonderful sense of humour. He never appeared to take anything too seriously, which only disguised how seriously he took things. Every Westminster hack feared the exclusive he would come out with next to spoil their day. He was always generous enough to share them with you once frst editions had dropped! He started as a copy boy in Glasgow and worked his way through the ranks - something that couldn’t happen now, sadly. His best bit of advice: ‘Remember you are not a political reporter. You are a reporter covering politics.’

What is the funniest experience you’ve had on the job?

There was a madame in Streatham called Cynthia Payne who was very famous. She lived in a residential house in Streatham and people had to pay her in luncheon vouchers. She had peers – her clientele was incredible. Anyway, she wrote a book. I had just joined the BBC then, so some of my female colleagues and I went to the launch party. It was a perfectly normal launch party – she talked about the book – and then at some point, probably when the sun set, it turned into a sex party! So I was there in my early 20s and all these men kept coming up to me asking: ‘Are you a working girl?”, and I was going, ‘Actually, I work for the BBC…’

GILLIAN BATES

Diploma Head of Can Do Arts

By Katie Ross

What is the funniest (or rudest) piece of feedback you’ve had on your work?

Two stand out: ‘you are a fascist’ and ‘you are a communist.’ Plus many too obscene to print, often from MPs and along the lines of ‘F*** off you lying c***, I told you that off the record.’

What was your publication’s favourite post-print pub?

There was a Blackfriars Chinese restaurant Express hacks used to visit occasionally. During the ‘92 election campaign, a group, including the political team and news editor Mike Parry, were celebrating when Parry’s phone rang. He answered looking dumbfounded, turned to me, and said, ‘The Prime Minister wants to talk to you.’ I wasn’t quick enough to reply: ‘Not again, say I’ll call back,’ before the disbelief lifted and someone pointed out that the call was probably meant for the editor, Sir Nick Lloyd.

NICK ASSINDER

Diploma

Retired political editor

By Gabby Colvin

What was your usual hangout spot between lectures?

I can’t remember if we had a student union, but we defnitely went to the pub. Eating out was cheap then so we went for a lot of meals together – I remember having a lot of curries!

What is your favourite piece of journalism ever?

Well, I’m an avid news reader but I absolutely love Marina Hyde in the Guardian – I wish I could write like that. I think her astute humour and almost despair is such an incredible combination so she’s probably my favourite journalist.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Yeah, defnitely. I think not all, but some, women journalists were given the softer news options, and that was diffcult. Just the general atmosphere, not at the News Group but at the BBC, was quite diffcult for me – you had to watch your back somehow.

CLARE AND NIGEL GABRIEL

Diploma

Communications consultant for their own agency

By Daniela Toporek

How did you meet?

Clare: We met on the City course and we’ve been together ever since. There were only about 28 of us, so we shared a lot of classes.

Nigel: When we met, we had to do a monthly Sycom newspaper, and Clare and I were both put on the Sunday Times and that was the start. We managed to get a story about the deliberate overproduction of eggs, and it was the back page lead on the Sunday Times business news with our names on it. So we were pretty excited about that as you can imagine.

What is the most useful skill you learned at City that you still use today?

Clare: For me, it was shorthand. We did the Harry Butler T-line shorthand. And he taught us!

Nigel: I do PR work and I use a lot of shorthand. When I’m interviewing people, it makes them apprehensive that they can’t tell what I’m writing down. But it’s a very useful skill to have.

What’s the most memorable interview you’ve ever done?

Nigel: We worked in the Middle East in the gulf in Bahrain at a newspaper there during the frst Gulf War and South Africa wasn’t allowed to receive oil because of apartheid. Iranians were basically banned from exporting oil and they were illegally sending it to South Africa.We found out through a contact that oil was going out in tankers through the

gulf and then rerouted to South Africa. We published the story and nearly got thrown out of Bahrain.

Clare: I ended up doing big stories for the BBC, like the day Princess Diana died. I was running the Radio Wales newsdesk. I started at 6pm and came home at 2am the following day. I used to cover the Hay Festival for BBC Wales – one of the most memorable things about that was seeing Bill Clinton speak right after he stepped down as president which was just amazing. While we were living in Bahrain, Shirley Bassey was doing a concert tour in the Gulf and I was sent back to London by the paper I was working for to interview her. I was very young, very nervous. And I few back frst class which was a treat. I had to interview her in the back of a London taxi. The taxi was going so fast and my notes were fying everywhere. It was a really fabulous interview. It got picked up by all the nationals and TV.

Have you ever experienced sexism within your career?

Clare: Big time. I experienced it a lot.

Nigel: It’s across the board, too. Newspapers, broadcasting, everywhere. It’s dreadful.

ROBIN JAROSSI

Diploma

Author and part-time journalist

By Megan Geall

Who is a person you fnd inspiring and why?

Currently I’m inspired by Gary Lineker. In an age when public life is crammed with dishonest, self-serving no-talents, he got where he is by being a superlative footballer and broadcaster. And he refused to back down for speaking out. In journalism, I’m in awe of Carole Cadwalladr’s courage and excellence.

How has the industry changed since you left City?

When I started as a reporter, the tools of the trade were an analogue phone, typewriter, and notepad. Copy was typeset and page proofs were usually couriered to the typesetters and returned the next day. Cigarette smoke and sexism foated through every offce. Magazine and newspaper budgets were huge, so TV Times, for instance, could send a photographer and writer to Monaco for an exclusive shoot with Roger Moore. Some old timers might say journalism back then – cigarette smoke and sexism aside – was often exciting and fun.

What is the most memorable interview you’ve ever done?

I interviewed Paul Whitehouse and Bob Mortimer together – they were lovely and great fun. At the other end of the spectrum, boxer Chris Eubank was unpredictable and spiky.

What is one piece of journalism that you are proudest of?

For my book The Hunt for the 60s Ripper, I uncovered some hidden records and also talked a geographic profler in Texas into doing a unique analysis for me that threw new light on the case.

What is your fondest memory of City?

When I started at City in 1981, there was just one strand to the course – newspaper journalism – although you could specialise in the type of reporting you hoped to do. There were 20 or so students and a handful of core staff. There was an esprit de corps; we saw ourselves as the new blood of journalism. There was an energy to get stuck into stories. We felt [we were] part of the beating heart of an industry that was less than a mile and a half away. We talked about news, read newspapers, and probably in a cack-handed sort of way, tried to get stories in front of news editors. And of course, we partied. It’s where I met Jane Holland, a fellow journalism student who later became my partner and mum to my two children.

Why did you get into journalism in the frst place?

I set my heart on being a journalist while at school. While I was still at school, I’d managed to get a Saturday job working in Fleet Street as a messenger boy. I felt important, although the reality was I would just take snippets of copy and sausage sandwiches around a busy newsroom. But I was intoxicated by the newspaper industry. As I grew older, I became more determined to become a reporter – and after getting a degree, I applied to City. Most of my career has been in longform current affairs radio. I worked as a producer on Radio 4’s File on 4 and 5 Live Investigates programmes. Longform analysis gave me the time to dig into stories, to look for the real story behind the headlines. The job has taken me around the world to take that frontrow seat, to places such as Afghanistan, the Middle East, Africa, Europe and the US.

DAVID LEWIS

By Megan Geall

STEVE CRAWSHAW

Diploma Author

By Eoghan O’Donnell

What was your funniest experience on a job?

Surreal things happened as a journalist in the Soviet Union. I was in the Baltic States as they were collapsing in early 1991. Russian tanks were on the street, and communication was extremely diffcult. In Latvia, I fnally got through to the copy-taker (taking dictated copy at the other end of the phone), which was very diffcult to manage. But the service broke down repeatedly, and I ended up unable to hear anything on the other end of the line. I dictated the story without knowing if I was being heard. I ended the call saying: “You may be there, or you may not be there, but goodbye,” but he was. The piece ended up as the front page lead!

Did you have a student job while you were at City? If so, what was it?

I did four-week internships; some of them then turned to subbing shifts, which I did afterwards. I got something with the Financial Times, working with the Eastern Europe editor at the time, and then at the BBC East European service.

Who was the most inspiring person you met at City?

Ben Bradlee, editor of The Washington Post during the Watergate investigations, came to speak to us. This was at a time when Ben Woodward and Carl Bernstein and the flm All the President’s Men had inspired many of us to be journalists. He was a huge name, and it was lovely of him to spend time with us.

What has been the highlight of your career?

More than anything I’ve loved writing books, so I think the highlight was discussing one of my books on BBC Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour. This show is the Holy Grail for authors and for a few precious hours, my sales soared above one of Jamie Oliver’s and Dawn French’s new releases in the Amazon charts.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

I had a grim time on a northern daily in the 1980s, but that might not have been sexism – maybe I just

wasn’t at my best. The worst was in my twenties. One time, in a bar, a crowd of older male hacks were throwing sexual questions at me, solely to humiliate and embarrass a younger woman. Those were the days you’d be labelled a lesbian (term of abuse) if you wouldn’t sleep with someone. Benjamin Zephaniah says in one of my books: ‘The past is a different kind of country.’ I hope he’s right.

MARGARET ROOKE

By Megan Geall

JANE DODGE

Radio Freelance reporter Channel 4 News and ITN

By Megan Geall

How important is social media when it comes to current affairs reporting?

Social media plays a vital role in current affairs reporting in two ways. It’s replaced the newspaper cuttings, library, and phone book in offering a much faster way to research a story by contacting people via Facebook and Twitter, for example. It also offers numerous platforms to publish stories on, giving access to audiences – particularly young people – who don’t watch news on TV channels. It’s radically changed the industry since I left City. Social media also gives us access to far more material in terms of pictures. That means the ability to tell stories that we haven’t been able to tell before.

JOLYON JENKINS

Periodical Director, Offbeat Media Ltd

by Ella Gauci and Megan Geall

Who did you think was going to make it ‘big’ in journalism from your course?

Leyla Ertugrul. And she did.

What is the main challenge to journalism in current times?

Google’s near monopoly in the online ad market which has sucked revenue from journalism and virtually destroyed it at a local level.

What is something you wish someone would have told you about the industry when you frst started out?

Just because you want something to be true doesn’t mean it is. You’re better off discovering this before you go to press rather than after.

Have you ever had a journalism related dream/nightmare?

Sleeping – no. Awake – plenty.

But it also means we have to work much harder at verifying a story.

What is one piece of journalism that you are proudest of?

In 1991, I reported from the mountains in northern Iraq where several million Kurds had fed to escape attacks by Saddam Hussein. They were living in tents with little food or clean water. I then few into northern Iraq with US soldiers to report on the safe havens being built for the Kurds.

Who is an inspiration to you?

My mum has been a great inspiration to me. She came from a modest background and saw education as a means to a better life. She spent 45 years teaching hundreds of school children as she was keen to pass on her hunger for knowledge. She was a feminist, as am I, and believed passionately in equal opportunities for all.

LUCIE YOUNG

Periodical Freelance journalist, founder of Soul Love Forever

By Honey Wyatt

What is the funniest experience you’ve had on the job?

Interviewing Lenny Kravitz in his loft in Soho. His girlfriend was sleeping late so he got dressed in his closet and as he was pulling his leather fares on he fell backwards. We all got a lovely view of his heavily tattooed bottom. Then, while I was doing the interview, his enormous boa constrictor came steaming through the living room. Anita Pallenburg and Kylie Minogue also showed up to say hello.

Do you have a piece of work that you are proudest of?

‘I married a minimalist’ for The New York Times. Minimalism has a serenity at its surface but instead of showing the architects’ perspective I talked to their partners and found it can be limiting and quite tyrannical. One man didn’t let his wife order any furniture when she was pregnant. He ordered a toilet from a penitentiary but it didn’t arrive, so she had to use a bucket the entire time she was pregnant.

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words what would they be?

Empowering, connecting (to people in the industry) and frustrating.

ROGER FEW

Radio

Professorial Research Fellow at University of East Anglia

By Honey Wyatt

What is the most useful skill you learned at City that you still use today?

The importance of rhythm, structure and creative expression in communication. The training at City set me on the path to professional writing and editing.

Who is a person you fnd inspiring?

It’s not a person, it is the extraordinary people I meet in my research projects on disaster risk, climate change, and confict. The focus of my work is documenting and analysing experiences of economically and politically marginalised social groups in lower-income countries – people at the sharp end of environmental change and injustice. People who show capacities to adapt and challenge the social structures that heighten their vulnerability.

What do you consider the highlight of your career?

Being able to travel to so many wonderful places. It has been a privilege to work with people in Colombia displaced by confict who are now fghting for their rights to create new homes in the informal spaces of cities.

SARAH

BAILEY

Periodical International Editor-at-large Vogue Greece

By Kiran Duggal

If you could sum up your experience at City, in three words, what would they be?

Discipline, ambition, ignited.

Do you have a piece of work that you are proudest of?

It would probably be my profle on Madonna for Harper’s Bazaar US. I was so unbelievably nervous about it; I nearly passed out in the interview.

I felt proud of myself as Barbara Charone, the legendary publicist of Madonna, said to me afterwards, ‘you got her and not everybody does’ and that was all the praise I needed practically for my whole career.

What is the one news story you wish you could have broken?

I visited an anti-censorship beneft that Salman Rushdie was speaking at and it was at the time the bookbinding had just begun. I just didn’t have the cajones to go up and interview him. I’ve regretted that ever since. It was a real lesson learned. If there’s an opportunity to talk to someone behind the story, even when doing a lifestyle piece. I always do. That experience of chickening out has stayed with me and haunted me.

JEMIMA GIBBONS

Diploma Content Strategy & Design, Social Media Launch Pack

By Ciéra Cree and Megan Geall

What is the most memorable interview you’ve ever done?

I interviewed Tracy Emin for BBC World Service in the mid 1990s. I went round to her fat in Vauxhall and she gave me a mug of herbal tea. She was super friendly and charming and made me feel like she had all the time in the world to chat.

What is the most useful skill you learned at City?

Using a computer and basic word processing software! We were the frst intake to have computers rather than typewriters in the classroom.

What was your biggest break in journalism?

Getting a job as a researcher on the Vanessa Show (ITV) in 1997.

Until then I’d been on freelance contracts. Once I was at Anglia (the ITV network was divided up into regions in those days) I quickly became producer, then deputy editor. The shows were flmed ‘as live’ on a tight turnaround and there was a constant ratings battle with the BBC. It was a stressful environment but a great experience.

What was your biggest fail or embarrassing move?

When I was a freelancer for Sky magazine, I reported on Torture Garden, which is a fetish club. They’d had this controversial party, which is based on the movie Crash and I had to go and fnd people who’d been at the party. I had my weighty professional tape recorder with me and I remember getting into a cab to go home and I was listening to my tape, looking out the window just trying to relax. And in that moment, I left the black tape recorder on the back seat. I didn’t see it when I got out, and it was lost forever.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

I’ve had dodgy moments in interviews. I was asked by a chef who I was interviewing if I wanted to go upstairs when the interview was over, which was pretty yuck. Because I came up through fashion magazines, I’ve benefted from empowering environments for women. Ageism is one of the hidden dirty secrets, not just of journalism, but of the workplace in general. It’s something that needs to be talked about more: making the workplace livable for menopausal women.

CHRISTINA BUNCE

Periodical Founder, Professional Writing Academy Director, WriteWell Community

By Nicole Panteloucos

What is the most memorable interview you’ve ever done?

After I left City, I went to work for a medical magazine.

I had a contact called Harold Shipman, a GP that turned out to be one of the biggest mass murderers in UK history.

What is the most useful skill you learned at City that you still use today?

Ethics is the most important module. You can learn almost everything else just by practising and doing it. But you really need to keep the ethics module in your head.

What is your fondest memory of being at City?

The pub. It’s where all the work went on. It’s where a lot of the connections were made. The thing I also loved most was shorthand. I got up to 130 words a minute.

What advice would you give to a new journalist?

Don’t be frightened to stick with what you believe in.

How do you manage your well being?

I try to do yoga three times a week. I also set up an online platform called WriteWell Community which uses writing as a tool to help people deal with everyday stress.

Do you think journalists get paid enough?

No, they don’t get enough. I think there is a lot of ripping off of journalists when they are asked to do things for free for their portfolios. You wouldn’t ask a plumber or a brain surgeon to work for free, would you? I think with writers there is generally this assumption that they will work for nothing but exposure.

VINCENT MOSS

Newspaper Communications Director at UK Music

By Ciéra Cree and Megan Geall

What is the most memorable interview you’ve ever done?

Of all the Prime Ministers, John Major was my frst and very generous with his time. Probably the most fun photograph I ever had from an interview was of me as the Sunday Mirror’s Political Editor returning then PM David Cameron’s stolen bike –and no, I didn’t steal it!

Who was the most inspiring person you met at City?

A former City student who came back to talk to those of us on the Newspaper course – Tony Gallagher who was then a newish Daily Mail reporter and now editor of The Times

What was your biggest break in journalism? Getting into City, followed by landing a job as a trainee at the Bristol Post

If you woke up with absolutely no money tomorrow, what would you do? Hustle.

What is the most useful skill you learned at City that you still use today? Shorthand, predictably.

Alternatively, if you woke up with all the money in the world, what would you do? Give 99 per cent away to deserving causes and invest the rest in set-ups like The Mill (Manchester) and The Bristol Cable that are doing excellent work flling the void in regional journalism.

What is the funniest piece of feedback you’ve received?

I worked at the Daily Mail under Paul Dacre. Nearly everyone was told their work was c*** at one point or another. Actually Jeffery Archer called me a ‘little s***’ when I was a Press Association reporter.

What is a standout moment from your career?

While I was features editor at The Times, I introduced Sudoku to the planet. It’s quite a story. The other thing is that I went from being a technology correspondent for straight to having a senior role in the Google PR machine. It was eye-opening and a little humbling.

What is your strongest memory of City?

The Teeline shorthand classes and the pub. And the great work experience placements.

What is your worst fear as a journalist?

Getting killed on the job. I was a war reporter (very, very

By Eoghan O’Donnell and Megan Geall

WILLIAM LEWIS

Periodical CEO and Founder, The News Movement

By Megan Geall

What is the most embarrassing moment or mistake of your career?

I once hung up on a very important person offering me a job because I thought it was an impersonation. Turns out, the call wasn’t a hoax. I had to call back, apologising profusely for hanging up.

How has the industry changed since you left City?

I’ve done every job in journalism, from making the tea to being a reporter, an editor, an editor-in-chief, a CEO and now a founder. There is never a dull moment in journalism and during my career I’ve loved learning new skills and staying at the forefront of innovation. The industry has changed quite a bit since I joined. What I’m most excited about now is thinking about how to do the news differently through my organisation, The News Movement

If you weren’t a journalist, what do you think you would be doing?

I would have tried my hand at becoming a professional football player. I reckon I could still make it.

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words what would they be? Daunting, enriching, life-changing.

HARRIET SWAIN

Newspaper

Freelance education journalist

By Ella Gauci

What is the most useful skill you learned at City that you still use today?

Shorthand – and asking for clarifcation if I don’t understand what an interviewee is talking about.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Of course. Usually – but not exclusively – from interviewees, and mostly when I was younger. My frst job was at The Evening Standard diary and part of it involved going to events and getting famous men to say stupid things. I was supposed to do this merely by being a young woman listening to them when they were drunk, so sexism was built into the role – although to my advantage. Another low moment was being handed a half-fnished pint by a man I was vox popping at a Gary Glitter concert at the Birmingham NEC and being asked to hold it while he went to the toilet.

What has been the highlight of your career?

Interviewing the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu. He was worried about his English and I was worried about the whole thing – as interviewing was part of what he was famous for – but we ended up talking for a long time and it was an incredibly special experience, especially as he died just a few months later.

Who is a person you fnd inspiring and why?

Anyone who pursues journalism in a country in which journalists are persecuted.

SUSIE BOONE

Periodical Content Strategist and Engineer

By Shauna Brown

Do you have a piece of work that you are proudest of?

I was incredibly fortunate to work at Top of the Pops magazine during the nineties in the midst of the Oasis versus Blur and Spice Girls mania – for any trivia fans, we invented the Spice Girls nicknames. At the studios, there were no PRs in sight, and we had almost unfettered access to pop stars who got dangerously bored when confned to their dressing rooms. One afternoon, I was gifted an hour-long interview with Prince, an artist who’d shaped my burning passion for music. Weeks later, I received a message that he’d enjoyed our conversation. I wrote a short piece for the magazine but also fled away a longer feature.

ALEX WIJERATNA

Periodical Senior Director at Mighty Earth

By Alex Berry

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words, what would they be? Brilliant, intense, life-changing.

Is there a period of your career that you are proudest of?

I worked as a restaurant critic for Fodor’s, one of the top travel guides in the world, for 23 years. My favourite restaurant that I’ve visited has to be one in Spain which is called El Bulli.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?

I’d really like to interview my father, when he was younger, before he had mental illness. I only knew him after he had very bad manic depression, so I really would like to have met him when he was young so I could have seen what he was like. My mum said that the man that I knew wasn’t a tenth of the man he was when he was young, so that would be really nice to go back and meet him then.

When he died in 2016, The Observer published the full article. It’s one of my most cherished life moments and reminds me how privileged I am to be a journalist.

What was What was the module you liked the least?

Virtually everyone on the magazine course hated Off-Diary. We’d be sent out onto the streets to fnd stories by door-knocking, approaching random people and trying to be observant. Most of us returned empty-headed and empty-handed, spending the next hour trying to polish a random remark or rain-flled pothole into a shiny news story. We’d generally get a roasting for our dismal efforts, although someone from the newspaper course always nailed it.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

One early experience that springs to mind is when a male manager announced that the three women on the team had to mark on the wall calendar when we had our periods so everyone knew in advance when we might be moody. I was outraged and challenged anyone in the team to identify my menstrual cycle. I think the manager was genuinely shocked by my response.

What is the most embarrassing moment or mistake of your career?

Another Top of the Pops story – somehow we failed to spot an F-bomb in the top line of our wordsearch puzzle for the bumper Christmas issue. We were a kids magazine selling over half a million monthly copies, and the BBC owned us. An outraged mum contacted The Sun but it was in the days before social sharing.

What advice would you give to new journalists?

Follow your passion. It’s undoubtedly that, and you’ve got to make your own luck. For example, I went out to Indonesia and started freelancing from there shortly after leaving City, and I was very lucky. Literally, the day after I landed, news broke about four Cambridge University students being kidnapped. And that was a four-and-a-half-month running story. I went straight into The Guardian, and two and a half years later, they asked me to run South-east Asia for them. If I hadn’t decided to go there, I wouldn’t have had that break. Be brave and develop a unique selling point for yourself that differentiates you from the crowd..

What’s been the highlight of your career?

It probably has to be my time in South-east Asia. Now, I love being at the Financial Times; it is an amazing workplace. The standards are extremely high, so you’re expected to produce good journalism daily, which is great.

What was an embarrassing moment for you?

I was a trainee on my local paper in Carlisle, and I thought I’d put a woman on hold when passing her over to a colleague, and I hadn’t. I said, “Oh, Steve, it’s your cat woman on the phone.” She heard and got very upset. I still stress about it, and that was in 1995 – 30 years later, and the Carlisle cat woman still haunts me.

Any self-care tips?

You can’t be married to the job. I have an allotment which I love, and that’s a great way of relaxing if you’re thinking about mental health. I’m going to be planting snap peas this weekend.

JOHN AGLIONBY

By Maira Butt

KRISTIN DANNEVIG

International Strategic Communications Consultant

By Alex Rigotti

What do you think could be done to improve diversity in the industry?

People with any kind of power should be checking their privilege at least once a day.

Looking back - what did you think of your fnal project?

I’m quite proud of it, strangely. My thesis was about the politics of ‘Thatcher’s children’ - the generation born just as she came to power and transformed Britain. I cycled all over London and interviewed young people from Wimbledon to Wood Green. They expressed such a mix of frustration and disconnection, energy and entitlement. I wish I’d had the guts to pitch it to a paper at the time.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Regularly. All women do.

What is your publication’s favourite post-print pub?

When I worked at Amnesty International we always went to the Easton pub and got hammered on terrible, overpriced Australian wine. Like everyone else in London I suppose. The size of those wine glasses is dangerous…

What are your hobbies?

After recently moving back to my home town of Oslo, I have taken up ice swimming and sauna, which was terrifying at frst but then strangely addictive, sociable - and it doesn’t cost the earth.

JAMES BLAKE

Broadcast Head of Media and Humanities at Edinburgh Napier University

By Samantha Fink

If you were starting again, as a journalist today, is there anything you would do differently?

I’d probably be more ambitious, and less afraid of coming up with daft story ideas. Don’t be scared of speaking out in editorial meetings. Your twenties and early thirties –that’s the time to come up with stupid ideas. Some of them might be ridiculous, but some might be really interesting, and they can take you places. I would have done more travelling. I would have taken more chances rather than being nervous about what people think of me. Don’t be afraid of making mistakes.

What is the most useful thing City taught you about journalism?

The value of a good story. There are lots of issues out there, but fnding a really cracking story, a human and emotional story, is important and vital in the industry.

What is something you wish someone would have told you about the industry when you frst started out?

What skills did you learn at City that you still use now? Coming up with killer questions. Avoid the mundane through a combination of research and thinking about what people will not have been asked. And the shape of a piece – I remember being told that the frst sentence should always link to the last.

What’s your best memory at City?

I loved our pop-up radio station. I remember my disbelief that the cricketer Mark Butcher, who would make his England debut in about a month, was willing to come to Northampton Square to appear on a live radio show which would be heard by just few people. It was a good lesson that it’s always worth asking someone. Sometimes, they say yes.

What’s been the highlight of your career?

Jay-Z sampling one of my interviews and playing it before his Glastonbury headlining set. A couple of months before I’d asked Noel Gallagher why Glastonbury had not sold out that year, and he replied: ‘there’s no place for hip hop at Glastonbury.’ Before Jay-Z came on stage, he played the interview to pump the crowd up and then walked on in a parka singing Wonderwall. I remember standing in front of the Pyramid stage with my arms aloft, thinking ‘my work here is done.’

Who is the most famous person you’ve met?

Madonna. She did an impression of me – it was rubbish.

What’s been the funniest thing that’s happened to you on the job?

Well, other people seem to think it’s when I shouted Bono seven times in 18 seconds live from the Vanity Fair Party on Radio 4’s Today programme. It features in a piece I’ve just written on 20 years of reporting the Oscars.

If you’ve got a positive attitude, even though you might be asked to do a bit of grunt work, then I think you’re an interesting, easy, positive person to work with. And that’s important, particularly for students on work experience. You’ve got to be someone who can ft into a newsroom environment, someone who people can get on with. Often, people go in with an attitude of ‘what is this going to give me?’. But if you go in with a positive, ‘I’ll do whatever is asked of me, and I’ll contribute, and I’ll come up with ideas,’ that’s valuable.

By Megan Geall

BARBARA SERRA

Broadcast Freelance Writer and Broadcaster

By Amy McArdle

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words what would they be?

Challenging. Camaraderie. Memorable.

Do you have a piece of work that you are proudest of?

My flm Fascism in the Family which I made for Al Jazeera English. I looked at the story of my grandfather, who was a fascist in Mussolini’s Italy, and linked it to the rise of the far-right today. I’m proud of it because it touches on one of the political stories of our time and, as you can imagine, it was not easy to make. I thought it was important to use my experience as an Italian to tell this story to an English speaking audience. Countries like the UK and US don’t have fascism in their history or similar personal stories, but are seeing a rise of the far-right in their own societies.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

Queen Elizabeth II, as a naturalised Briton, I swore allegiance to her, and when you come to the UK as a foreigner, she is obviously a symbol of the country. She has had a front-row seat to the enormous changes the world has seen in the past century: political, cultural, and religious. She would have been a fascinating and unique interviewee.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career? I think I was treated differently because I was a woman, but my ‘foreignness’ was always an obstacle, not sexism.

SUSAN RILEY

Magazine Commercial Editorial Director at Stylist

By Amiya Baratan

Did you ever doubt yourself or feel imposter syndrome while studying at City?

In all honesty, no. Too full of youth and exuberance.

Who is your favourite journalist and why?

Simon Hattenstone’s profle pieces are always so well crafted. He came and gave us a talk on interviewing celebrities when I was features editor at Sugar and was brilliant in mentor mode.

What is your go-to snack while writing?

My go-to snack is always a Cadbury’s Freddo.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Yes. From men, of course. But also from women. One interview with a female editor was essentially over when I revealed I had a young child.

Zoom, face-to-face, or telephone interview?

Face to face always. Although Microsoft Teams has a brilliant transcription tool that would have saved me about seven years of my life had I used it earlier.

LAURA SMITH

Newspaper

Associate Editorial Director at the Mixed Museum; Freelance Writer, Editor and Editorial Consultant

By Megan Geall

What’s the most memorable interview you’ve ever done? Without a doubt visiting death row in Pennsylvania and interviewing the former Black Panther, Mumia Abu Jamal for a feature for The Guardian. We talked for hours, him behind thick plexiglass, me in borrowed clothes because my luggage got lost on the way. I wasn’t allowed to take in a recording device; I still have the thick book of notes I took. That interview changed my life.

Who was the most inspiring person you met at City?

Everyone at City was inspiring – being amongst a group of such clever, funny, driven people was exciting and intimidating. The person I’m most inspired by today is Preti Taneja, who was on the course with me and has gone on to forge a career as an academic, novelist and writer. She’s a dear friend. I’ve also never forgotten Linda Christmas’ advice about looking beyond the London bubble and amplifying women’s voices.

What is your fondest memory of being at City?

The nights out at what used to be the Bull, in various places along Upper Street, and at Pippa Crerar’s fat on Camden High Street!

ELLIE LEVENSON

Periodical Freelance Writer and Lecturer at Goldsmiths College

By Tiffany Lai and Megan Geall

What is your fondest memory of being at City?

It was just great to be in London, living with a friend in our own fat and enjoying everything the capital had to offer.

What advice would you give to a new journalist? Learn languages (sadly, I did not do this) and be genuinely interested in people.

What is the most memorable interview you’ve ever had to do?

I am haunted by the stories of refugees and the terrifying ways they have escaped persecution.

Who do you fnd inspiring and why?

Usually, whoever has written the last good book, I have read – right now, it’s Michelle Obama.

RACHEL RICHARDSON

Founder of Beginning, Middle and End

By Megan Geall

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words, what would they be? Intense, fun, skint.

What was your favourite part about working at Snapchat?

Being paid to understand the idiosyncrasies of Gen Z and how to tell stories on social.

Do you have a piece of journalism that you are proudest of?

I should say one of the campaigns I worked on but I actually think it’s securing Lady Gaga for the cover of Fabulous magazine back in 2009.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

The Queen. I believe she’s only ever given one interview and it was about her coronation. I would have loved to ask her about her unique and extraordinary life.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

I am a woman, yes! Not to give the media industry a gold star that it doesn’t deserve but I experienced it much more working in the tech industry than I ever did as a journalist.

SUNANDA MALIK

International Client Relationships and Marketing Vice President at Genpact

By Megan Geall

What is the most useful skill you learned at City that you still use today?

To be self-suffcient and comfortable with myself. It was my frst time living away from home, in a foreign land, too. Until then, I had led a life of privilege, but at City I was managing my own schedule, and learning and developing myself.

Who was the most inspiring person you met while on the course?

I admired Adrianne Blue for her outspokenness and inimitable style. But perhaps the most inspiring person I met was a fellow student, Sandra Nyaira (a Zimbabwean reporter who died in 2021). She had a quiet, dignifed manner, and you would never guess she had such a feisty personality and an exciting portfolio of investigative work.

Have you ever experienced microaggressions or racism in your career?

Yes. In fact, whilst I was at City, I was interning for a national daily in London, and when I applied for a full-time job at the end of the internship, the editor under whom I was working told me that my colour would be the determining factor on whether or not I got the job, implying that I only had a shot if the quota wasn’t flled already. I didn’t fully understand the gravity of that statement until much later.

How did your time at City infuence your career?

While I may no longer be a journalist, I attribute much of my success to my education as a journalist. I could practically apply everything I had learnt in theory. I became a marketing and communications professional in the second leg of my career and I often applied the same principles of journalistic research and writing to my business and presentation skills. I also introduced various features like vox pops and podcasts and ultimately started my own talk show featuring leaders and clients. And fnally, as I pivoted towards a sales and business development role, I applied my interviewing skills to sales conversations and my broadcast skills to public speaking opportunities!

DANIEL GLYDE Television

Certified

Life Coach;

Freelance Video/Television Producer and Director; Communications Expert and PR Consultant

By Emily Smith

What’s your best and worst memory from the course?

My best was easily being shown around BBC Television Centre very early on. I walked in there and thought: ‘I’m going to work here.’ Worst of all is probably being chased down Camden High Street by two shop security guards with a tripod and camera under my arm. We were just trying to get some GB’s for something we were working on.

If you were starting again as a journalist today, how would you go about it? What would you do differently?

If I could go back again I would do it earlier. I didn’t go to City until I was 28. I’ve always been a journalist, always been a writer, but I do wish I’d done my postgraduate course at City sooner.

What is the main challenge to journalism in current times?

I think the diffculty now is that everyone’s a bloody journalist, aren’t they? I think it’s the fake news thing, it’s very diffcult to stand out in a world full of clickbait. Being able to tell genuane, authentic stories, whilst making them sexy enough to

cut through all the platforms is hard. I think now it’s so much more of a crowded marketplace so the challenge is directing people to well thought out, longform content.

What is something you wish someone would have told you about the industry when you frst started? Don’t be exploited! Know your worth early on. You have to put yourself out there and do a bit of work for free to get yourself known but be careful not to cross a line where you’re only working for free and being exploited. Don’t put your job before your personal wellbeing.

What do you listen to when you’re working hard?

I don’t listen to music whilst I’m working. I do, however, use a lot of meditation apps that have background music or binaural beats. I use binaural beats to wake me up sometimes –they’re two frequencies that work alongside each other to stimulate your brain in different ways.

Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met?

Dustin Hoffman is probably the most famous Hollywood actor that I’ve met, but I’ve also met Westlife loads of times.

Kelly (Fabulous celebrity editor and City alumna) and I love Westlife – we’ve gone to the pub with them! They did the News UK Christmas party one year and it was surreal.

Do you do journalism full time and do you think journalists get paid enough?

I’m freelance and have been for 11 years. Freelance rates are actually falling, so I can’t say much for staff writers. Rates aren’t even remaining stagnant. I do journalism full-time but I’ve recently started doing pharmaceutical work as well. I work from home, my husband works away, and I have two kids. I very rarely feel like I’m striking the balance but I feel like that’s the nature of freelance – famine or feast. We have to work late into the night, doing crazy hours and working at crazy speeds. It’s very unpredictable in terms of workload, so busy periods of freelance on top of normal life can happen. It’s not uncommon for me to work over the weekends as well. Purse strings are being tightened and everybody has to make cuts in order to try to keep their jobs. They’ve been tightening for such a long time, you wonder how much tighter it can get. When I frst went into journalism there was a lot more money in it but now there defnitely isn’t the same.

Do you have any family members in the industry?

No, I am not a nepo-baby, no media family. It’s probably even harder to get into the industry now than when I did.

I was lucky to start at a time when you could still get in as a trainee. It’s why I went to City – I knew it would open doors and help me get a foot in the doors.

What do you think is the main challenge to journalism in current times?

I think a lot of people no longer want to engage with news, opinion, or comment pieces. They get all of their information from social media instead. The lack of engagement with what journalists do is a big issue (although there are loads of other problems). If social media is there to give journalistic information, what are journalists here for?

Have you ever negotiated your salary?

Since I’ve been freelance, I’ll certainly try to negotiate rates if I think they don’t match with what I’m being asked to do. I’ve been doing this a very long time, I know what stories are worth and I’m not willing to settle. I’ve been doing real life journalism since 2006 and have an idea about which places can afford to give a little bit more. If we as journalists don’t value our time, work and craft by selling it for too little, we’re contributing to the downward spiral.

EIMEAR O’HAGAN

Periodical

Freelance Writer and Editor

By Ciéra Cree

KRISTINA COOKE

By Honey Wyatt

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

I think everyone has, to some degree. Sometimes this can mean you are underestimated, which isn’t always a bad thing in reporting. Other times, it can be sources getting the wrong idea when you ask to meet them for a drink or dinner. I once had a source try to invite himself along on a reporting trip to Puerto Rico.

Which class did you like the least?

The class I liked least was shorthand, but there have been many times I’ve thought back to that class and wish I’d paid more attention, because you can’t rely on tape recordings for sensitive interviews or in many US courthouses.

What’s the funniest experience you’ve had on the job?

A colleague and I had been reporting for several days in Pennsylvania, when we decided to try and drive to the town where the subject of our investigation grew up. We plugged the name of the town into Google Maps and started driving about four hours across the state. But when we got there, we realised we had the wrong town. There was another town, with the same name, several hours in the opposite direction. It took a while before we found it funny.

20 07 EMMA

JESSICA HOLLAND Magazine Freelance Journalist

By Tom Flanagan and Megan Geal

Who did you think was going to be ‘big’ in the industry from your course?

Me ha! I was probably quite full of myself at the time because I’d started journalism in my teens. I was not expecting Josh Widdicombe to become a famous comedian, although our fnal group project was a comedy website that he oversaw.

Who is the best person you’ve ever interviewed?

People that have broadened my world view like when I camped at Standing Rock [in Dakota, US] during the pipeline protests and met indigenous leaders. Also young people from Syria and Yemen who had been displaced by civil war which made issues with migration and borders feel real, human, and urgent.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Absolutely. I experienced and witnessed sexual harassment during my early jobs in journalism. I’ve been freelance since 2009

and I’ve found that women editors have been the ones who have championed my career and given me chances. I found that at university, male and female aspiring journalists shone equally, but as soon as pay was involved, men’s careers tended to advance more quickly than most of the women, even before kids came into the equation. I think men were also trusted to do things they’d never done before, whereas it felt as though women needed to prove themselves frst.

What is your fondest memory of City?

Gathering in the pub after class, and music journalism with Stevie Chick. We all loved hearing his tour bus stories of interviewing bands on Friday afternoons.

What is the main challenge to journalism in current times?

Social media, people not reading, and a lack of funding. I wish there were more magazines in the UK that were serious about writing, like the New Yorker.

What’s the most useful thing City taught you about journalism?

In terms of practical skills – shorthand. I started as a news reporter and could not have done that job without it, especially when court reporting. Also, learning how news stories should be built. I remember being told: ‘Always quote the real person before the council spokesman,’ while on a placement at the Ham & High, which was absolutely true.

What is something you wish someone would have told you about the industry when you frst started out?

I might not have listened. I remember meeting someone very senior when I was doing work experience, who just barked ‘Don’t go into journalism!’ Looking back, maybe I should have asked why? But other people told me a lot about the industry, which was really helpful. I would try to speak to people whose careers I admired and ask them how they got there. As usual in journalism, there are no absolute rules about a career path.

KAMALI MELBOURNE

Television

Presenter at Sky News

By Maira Butt

What was the most useful skill you learnt at City?

Lis Howell [Head of the TV MA] taught me that when you’re reading a news bulletin to speak lower and slower. It’s about taking your time and being aware of your voice and that’s something that I still try and remember and maintain in my work today. It’s a very tiny nugget. But it’s important for a broadcaster.

What’s been the highlight of your career so far?

I was on Downing Street when Boris Johnson gave his resignation speech, and I was there the morning Liz Truss was arriving. Then there was the day the Queen died- it was quite a career highlight. I was also on air the moment Russia started its invasion of Ukraine.

What advice would you give to new journalists?

ROWLEY Newspaper Deputy Editor at Grazia

By Ciéra Cree

The starting point for any journalist is to be curious, and you can’t really teach curiosity. You need to have a

work out how a machine operates, but for us it’s the stories and life.

What’s your favourite piece of journalism?

I’d say any piece of work that pulls at the threads. Something that pieces the parts together. Back in the day that would have been done by knocking doors. the real ‘shoe leather’ work. Today, it’s all about open source- it’s vital in being able to unearth nuggets of truth in the morass of information and content we are exposed to right now.

KIRAN STACEY

By Henrietta Taylor

What was the module you liked the most or the least?

I enjoyed doing the local patch work, but it could also be quite a grind. Honestly, I have never had to work as hard to get stories in my life as I did for patch. It’s been so much easier since then!

What has been the highlight of your career so far?

I always enjoyed doing elections, and I was involved in the 2018 election coverage for the Financial Times. As part of that, I did a video series from swing constituencies across the country. That video series was really well produced and very well received. I was also quite proud of my coverage of the Pakistani elections when Imran Khan came to power.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

From the dead ranks: Cicero, someone who witnessed history frst hand and had a great way of telling a story. Alive: Xi Jinping, as the most infuential man of our times, but nobody knows anything about him.

HOLLIE CLEMENCE

Magazine

Executive Editor at The Week

By Megan Warren-Lister

KEVIN COULSON

Newspaper

Senior Editor at The Athletic

By Megan Geall

What is your worst fear as a journalist?

Becoming irrelevant and having my job taken by young, hungry upstarts from City University!

What do you think could be done to improve diversity in the industry?

Oof. This is a full-blown article in itself. Something I’m really proud of from my time at The Athletic is the Talent ID days that we run – and very often recruit from. Sports journalism is awash with middle-class white men (like me!) and it’s not even close to being diverse enough. Similarly, while I was at Eurosport we worked with Kick It Out to offer work experience as a crucial frst rung on the ladder. There is no easy answer though and, while these things will hopefully help, much more needs to be done as it’s a big problem – in sports journalism and beyond.

What is one moment from your career that stands out in your memory?

I once tried to fry an egg on the pavement at the Australian Open to demonstrate the 40-degree heat in a video. It didn’t work.

Who is a person you fnd inspiring and why?

There are people speaking up loudly for what they believe in, even when it might cost them personally or put them in danger. And there are people quietly and selfessly working to make the world a better place without much credit. These stories restore my faith in humanity, which can be tested when you read too much news.

What advice would you give to a newjournalist?

Speak to anyone and everyone. You never know where a simple conversation might take you.

What is the most valuable skill you learned at City that you still use today?

The lessons from media law and ethics have been invaluable. I don’t use shorthand very much these days but phrases like ‘all sorts of things’ will be seared on my brain forever.

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words what would they be?

Intense, revelatory and… fun. I don’t want to say fun because it sounds so basic, but it was fun.

If you weren’t a journalist, what do you think you would be doing?

I would probably be doing something very physical, like welding bikes. Building something with my hands that requires a lot of concentration and commitment.

Is there a piece of work that you are proudest of?

I worked on a flm called Wings over Water a 3D IMAX flm a few years ago. I worked on it for almost two years, so I felt like much of my vision went into it. It has had a huge reception and did well in the awards. It’s about migrating birds across America. I’d watched the rough cuts so many times, on my phone and on the train, so it was really emotional when I saw the fnal product in the theatre, knowing what went into every single one of those shots and how much time we spent setting them up and what they all mean together.

HARRIET

BAILEY

Science Producer and Director of Science Documentaries

By Dani Clarke

Who was the most inspiring person you met at City?

Probably Penny Marshall – she was so badass. As well as giving good advice about practical skills and presenting tips, she warned me that no romantic relationship could survive the lifestyle of a junior journalist, and I don’t think she’s far wrong.

What has been the highlight of your career so far?

Executive producing the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation’s annual show (called Goalkeepers) about the UN’s sustainable development goals. We get to platform some of the most inspiring individuals from all over the world who are working on zeitgeisty issues across global healthcare and gender equality. Writing those scripts and producing that run of show – from short flms and panels, to speeches and interview segments, is a privilege.

Self care tip – how do you manage your well being?

Time blocking. It sounds really boring, but when you live a fast-paced life with a schedule that rarely has structure, time blocking in the morning means you can fnd time to take a break and plan a walk with a podcast, or a drink in the pub with a friend. It’s not enough to just say you’ll fnd time for it. I don’t know what kind of magic it is, but if I’ve written it down, invariably, it happens.

FRANCESCA WILSKI

Broadcast Partnerships Director and Executive Producer of Goalkeepers

By Megan Warren-Lister and Megan Geall

ROISIN DERVISHO’KANE

Magazine

Senior Editor at Women’s Health

By Megan Geall

What is something you wish someone would have told you about the industry when you first started? Delivery, framing, and communication often count for more when it comes to longevity in the industry than painstaking details or perfect craft. The industry, like society, isn’t a meritocracy. You need to sell yourself and your ideas constantly. For some people – because of social advantages or personality traits – this comes easily. If that’s not you, then however much it gives you the ick, developing these skills needs to become a priority.

What is one highlight from your career?

My cover interview with Leah Williamson, in which she opened up about her endometriosis and got sweary about historic sexism in football, was probably my first real scoop. The story was picked up by news outlets and broadcasters globally and it was a viral success on social media. Endometriosis, according to Twitter data, was the 10th most discussed topic on the platform on the day the cover came out. It felt good to have helped make a meaningful impact.

What was your favourite study snack while at City?

I didn’t eat much. Diet Coke and lots of coffee.

What’s the most useful thing City taught you about journalism?

Kill your darlings.

If you had to describe a stereotypical journalist in two words, what would they be?

Delicate ego (myself very much included).

VIC PARSONS

Science

Freelance Journalist

By Caroline Whiteley

What was the module you liked the most?

The director of my masters was a woman called Connie St Louis, and she was a very inspiring educator and mentor to a lot of us on the course. She had a background in radio, and used to work at the BBC, so most modules were radio production ones. She was an amazing teacher across the whole course, but I think in radio particularly she was just so encouraging. Every two weeks we used to make a news radio show. We’d end up staying really late in the studio with Connie and another tutor called Toby Murcott, and you could just really feel the passion they both had for radio.

How would you describe the current media climate in regards to the trans community?

The state of the media when it comes to reporting on trans people is incredibly depressing, and contributing a lot of real world harm. Like many people in the trans community right now, I am in the process of grieving for Brianna Ghey, who was recently murdered. I think the media has played a role in hostile attitudes towards trans people across the UK. As someone who is both trans and in the media, it is a thorny and sometimes challenging position.

NAOMI LARSSON PIÑEDA

By Gaelle Biguenet

What is your strongest memory from production fortnight?

When it was all finished and the celebration afterwards. It was the first time that any of us had done anything like that [producing a magazine in two months].

What do you think could be done to improve diversity in the journalism industry?

The top journalism schools need to be more diverse, and that goes for both teachers and students, because I don’t think they're very accessible. Certainly when I was there, it wasn't diverse at all and I don’t know if things have changed. It's also very expensive, so there needs to be more grants. I’m saying this because journalism schools like

KATHERINE DUNN

Erasmus Content Editor at Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism

By Nicole Panteloucos

City are just a stepping stone into journalism. If we want the industry to be more diverse then that balance has to come from the source.

What is the funniest or rudest piece of feedback you’ve had on your work?

This has stayed with me for so long. When I was working at The Guardian, someone said she was going to be my mentor. There was a journalist at the time, who was successful and talented. During one of my mentoring sessions, I expressed my interest in foreign reporting and she compared me to this other journalist, saying I wasn’t like him.

20 15

What advice would you give to a new journalist?

I would actually say do as few unpaid internships as possible. If you’re going to do things for free, do things that feel collaborative with other students and use that experience to get something paid. I did a lot of unpaid internships and they never got me a job.

Who is a person you find inspiring and why?

Sheelah Kolhatkar. Once I became a business journalist, I was looking for examples of women who were doing business and financial journalism in a way that felt punchy and interesting. I read everything Sheelah Kolhatkar writes.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Yes, of course, loads of times. Thankfully, much less in the last few years. When I started my career I was covering commodities and trading in a big newsroom. 95 per cent of my sources were men, my colleagues were men. It was a difficult balance that most young female journalists go through when trying to find a way to assert yourself when doing your job.

What would you consider as your worst fear as a journalist?

I speak quite openly about sociopolitical issues. I was really fearless at the beginning of my career, but as the country is sliding into a really scary place for minorities with opinions, my worst fear is the potential backlash and being doxed. Being visible as a black woman online with opinions, I’ve seen it take its toll on people around me who have been hounded or had racist abuse hurled at them. I just really have no interest in that being my life.

What is your go-to snack?

I don’t really have a go-to snack. I

live in a shared house and we buy bread communally so I probably have toast with jam most often. The bread is communal because it’s a socialist household – bread and roses.

Have you experienced sexism in your career?

It’s a really difficult question to answer because these things are not always like, 'hey toots, show us a bit of leg.' It can be just how long it takes you to navigate a certain space versus somebody else and it’s never that obvious. I think by and large I have been quite fortunate to find myself in spaces that have really supported me.

By Katie Ross

INGRID FADELLI

By Tiffany Lai

What’s your best and worst memory from the course?

I remember seminars with Paul Majendie most fondly – they were always entertaining and educational. I loved the way he assessed our work and he always offered valuable insight in his own witty and unique way. As for my worst memory, maybe when I was asked to present the news in City’s television studio during class. That’s when I realised for certain that my journey would be in print!

What’s the most useful thing City taught you about journalism?

I can think of three valuable journalism lessons that I learned at City. The frst is that a story can be found almost anywhere, the second is that factchecking and validating sources are

crucial aspects of journalism, and the third is that writers should never be afraid of constructive criticism.

What is the main challenge to journalism in current times?

I feel like the biggest challenge in journalism is misinformation and the lack of fact-checking, which is often fueled by mass media and the pressure to publish news quickly. There is so much fake news online today and so many stories that are blown out of proportion.

Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met?

I had the pleasure of interviewing Margaret Hamilton, the pioneering woman engineer who coded man to the moon.

What’s the most useful thing City taught you about journalism?

City gave me a space to practise journalism free from the fear of failure and provided an opportunity to build a great network of contacts that I still tap into today.

What’s your best and worst memory from the course?

My best memory is probably putting our end-of-year show together. And my fnal project - I got to travel abroad to a few places which was pretty cool. Worst memory? I was a student representative which meant I had to have some pretty diffcult conversations.

JORGE ENGELS

By Tom Flanagan

How has the world of journalism changed since you left City?

I think geolocation, open source investigations and data visualisations have become much bigger.

What is something you wish someone would have told you about the industry when you frst started? That it’s really hard to get an idea of career progression and see where you’ll go and end up.

Writer and Editor

By Megan Warren-Lister

What is your worst fear as a journalist?

Being rendered irrelevant by automated services like ChatGPT –having my creative ability considered less important than automated content. They can write poems now, it’s mad!

Looking back, what do you think of your fnal project?

I’m super proud of it. It was about women in flm and ways that female directors, cinematographers, and scriptwriters still don’t get the recognition or opportunities their male counterparts do. One of my other articles was on the importance of having more female superheroes in the Marvel universe. Considering. I now write pieces like that, I’m proud of the research I did, the confdence I had, and the case studies I got. During that time you’re experimenting and you’re not sure you’re doing it right, but now I’m in the industry I feel validated.

What is the funniest piece of feedback you’ve had on your work?

I wrote a travel piece and was told my descriptions were really dry. I remember thinking, ‘Even if you think it’s dry, this is not helpful feedback.’ I’ve worked as an editor and given feedback and it’s not helpful to basically insult someone’s work if you want them to change it and make it better. I’d written this piece off the back of a trip I’d taken and it just sullied my memories for a while.

BROOKE THEIS

By Kiran Duggal

What is your fondest memory of City?

We used to do themed dress-up days to get us through production fortnight. It really did boost morale. We did denim day, wavy-garms day, and sports day - where we wore shorts and airtech.

Who was the most inspiring person you met while on the course at City?

There were so many. Jo Elvin came and spoke to us and it was right after Glamour had announced that it was closing its print magazine. The fact that she turned up during that time to talk to us was amazing, because it showed such resilience. I had been a fan of hers for years and I still am. It spoke volumes about her approach to work and she imparted that on all of us.

What advice would you give to a new journalist starting out in the industry?

You have to love it, because ultimately, genuine curiosity is what will lead you to the better stories. Don’t do things because others are telling you that you should do them. Follow your instincts.

What is the most memorable interview you’ve done so far?

The most meaningful interview was one with a woman called Yeonmi Park. She is a defector from North Korea, and she has the most incredible story. It was hard to fnd her; I frst tried random (incorrect) email addresses, and then I managed to get a number for her from a closed Facebook group that hadn’t been active since about 2016. Next, I got a text from Yeonmi in the middle of the night, and she was like, ‘Can you talk now?’ I was in my pyjamas. I went into my living room, got my questions up, and called her. The result was a very emotional piece, told in her voice. I’m very proud of the piece because I didn’t imagine that I would be able to do that kind of storytelling in my magazine, and the fact that I was able to means I have to give a huge amount of credit to my team.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career so far?

Absolutely – you can’t escape the gender pay gap. But it’s the women who push on despite the sexism that exists, and actively fght it that can make real change.

Did you ever doubt yourself or feel impostor syndrome?

Yes, I did. I sometimes felt overwhelmed with the course at City. It was very hands on – pretty much fve or six days of work per week. I was one of the students not living in London during the course. Being based in Reading made it a four-hour round trip. I had to leave at the crack of dawn to make it to my classes on time, and I would get home pretty late – just before midnight, depending on the day. I defnitely felt impostor syndrome at times because I couldn’t believe that I was working that much. I remember feeling like I didn’t know if I was strong enough to make it through the year. I don’t think I was the only one who felt that way.

If you could go back to your time at City, what would you do differently?

Honestly, nothing really. It was a diffcult ten month course but I wouldn’t change anything about it. I think it defnitely taught me some life lessons about resilience and the importance of soldiering on.

What do you think could be done to improve diversity in the industry?

To improve diversity in the industry as a whole, there needs to be allyship from the top down. News editors in every form of journalism need to encourage underrepresented voices in the newsroom. The real problem is that we have a lot of voices speaking for communities. Journalism is made stronger by diverse voices because it’s those voices that can see the disparities and the stories not being told. We are the voice of the people; we are supposed to speak up for the people.

Nandni Sharma

SIMONA GEORGIEVA

International Product Trainer at TikTok

By Katie Daly

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words what would they be?

Insightful, challenging and interesting.

What can people take from how you have done an MA at City and now you work for TikTok?

In my degree, we did everything from print to online and a little bit of TV as well so I managed to take those skills, especially how to present informative and short videos for social media. Working for a social media company you need to know about misinformation — I wrote my dissertation on misinformation and I can see how I can implement that because I’m working on a few projects right now at TikTok which are related to that. So journalism is applicable, not just to social media, but to everything in life.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Yes, a few times. When I was doing one of my work experience jobs, I was sent to flm an event and do interviews and my boss asked me: “Are you sure you will be able to carry the equipment by yourself, it’s too big for a small lady like you” - this comment made me feel very uncomfortable.

JOSHUA ZITSER

Broadcast Senior Reporter at Insider

By Gabby Colvin

What is your fondest memory of being at City?

Meghan Markle came to visit when she was newly married to Prince Harry. That was a really exciting experience as there were photographers from proper news outlets there.

What has been the highlight of your career?

When Kabul fell to the Taliban I worked on a story about gay men in Afghanistan who were living secret lives whilst fearing for their lives. I stayed in touch with one of the men we interviewed and after he eventually arrived in the UK as a refugee, I got to meet him and we built up a friendship. From a horrifc news story there was a glimmer of hope. That was a reminder to me why journalism is so important – you’re ultimately telling human stories.

Who’s your biggest inspiration? My late great uncle Wilf. He arrived in the UK via Kindertransport as a refugee from Germany during the Holocaust. He was 10 and his parents later died in the concentration camps. What’s really inspirational about Wilf is that, having arrived here with no English, he educated himself and was able to become a fnancial journalist who contributed to The Telegraph and the Financial Times. He was the victim of a regime that tried to silence voices and, through pure hard work and determination, he was able to develop his own voice and work as a journalist for many, many years.

SABAH CHOUDHRY

Broadcast Presenter and Producer at Sky News

By Ella Kipling

What was the module you liked the most/least when you were at City?

My favourite class was the TV news day. There was something about the time pressure that got my adrenaline pumping. It’s also very similar to the pressure of a newsroom – although a softer pressure for sure – so it was good practice for post-City life. My least favourite subject was media law. The lecturer was epic. I just found it too much for my neurodiverse brain!

What is the one news story you wish you could’ve broken?

Tough one – but it has to be the death of the People’s Princess, Diana.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

The one person I’m keen to interview at this moment in time is Charles Sobhraj, the serial killer. You may have seen BBC drama The Serpent about his crimes. Or rather, alleged crimes –Sobhraj vehemently denies the murders he was locked up for. He was released last year, after serving two life sentences in Nepal.

By Lucy Sarret

ZAHRA WARSAME

Investigative Producer at Channel 4 News

By Chloé Williamson

Who is the most famous person you have ever met?

I met Marcus Rashford at Manchester United’s training ground after setting up an exclusive interview with him and Jon Snow. He’s exactly as you would expect, an intelligent, compassionate footballer who really wants to make the world a kinder place for children growing up in hardship.

What’s your best and worst memory from the course?

The political headlines module was the best highlight, even though a friend and I were nearly kicked out of the House of Commons after we accidentally walked into a room that we shouldn’t have. They weren’t impressed! My worst experience was when I had to sit on a bus for too long in the cold whilst heading to my patch area in Dalston for the zillionth time.

How has the world of journalism changed since you left City?

It has changed so much. The pandemic changed the way that newsrooms operate logistically, it went from booking guests to come into the studio to organizing zooms and socially distanced interviews. It means that often we aren’t flming or meeting with contributors in person, and that changes the rapport.

CHIARA WILKINSON

By Caroline Whiteley

What kind of music do you listen to when you’re writing?

Either ambient, electronic, IDM, or classical music – always without lyrics, otherwise I start thinking about them. Spotify’s Music for Concentration playlist works well because I’ve been listening to it for so long that my brain automatically goes into writing mode.

Why did you do the course?

I was putting on music events during my undergraduate studies, and I wanted to do that after graduating. And then the pandemic happened. I was doing writing for marketing, and I had done student and music journalism, and I thought, ‘if I can’t put on music events then at least I can write about the industry.’ Plus, doing a masters degree seemed like a good opportunity.

What was lockdown studying like?

We did a whole term of patch restricted to writing about the areas we lived in. So in a way, we probably had it a bit easier because we already knew the ins and outs of our areas quite well.

What are the challenges to journalism in the current times? When our jobs are potentially being threatened by ChatGPT and AI - it’s even more important to have your own niche and tone of voice.

Did you ever doubt yourself or feel imposter syndrome?

At the beginning of my career, I defnitely did. Especially when I started at City, I didn’t have much experience in newsrooms – or any kind of relevant work experience. When I turned up on my frst day, there was a networking event, and people were mentioning their connections and friends in the industry. That felt really intimidating, as it made me feel like I would be 10 steps behind everyone else.

Have you ever experienced racism or microaggressions in your career?

Yes I have, but it’s always been more covert. The most prevalent is online. Some pieces I’ve written have received racial abuse online by trolls. It’s never going to be said to your face and it shows up on a more structural level, in people’s behaviours and actions. To counter that,

there needs to be conscious efforts in newsrooms and in recruitment processes.

Why did you get into journalism in the frst place?

What drew me to journalism was a mixture of two things. I wanted to do something that would have an impact and make a tangible difference to people’s lives, and I was also drawn to the creative aspect of writing.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

I’ve defnitely experienced it, but when it happens, it’s more covert and it won’t necessarily be shown explicitly. There was a time where some of my work was credited to a male journalist. It can be especially hard if you are freelance to face the sexist adversity of journalism. Now, I’m very lucky to work in a diverse newsroom that empowers women.

Freelance journalist, sub-editor, and trustee at PressPad

By Dimple Shiv

What is your strongest memory from the magazine production fortnight?

When we started the course, we only got three weeks in before lockdown started. My biggest memory is coming back for production fortnight and actually meeting everyone I had seen on Zoom over the past few months.

What do you think could be done to improve diversity in the industry?

I’m a trustee for the PressPad charitable foundation. We champion diversity and cater to people who can’t afford to get to London where most journalism opportunities are, so we’re increasing possibilities for more people. There should be more opportunities for junior reporters and journalists but we also need diversity at higher levels to drive inspiration and change in the industry.

What is your go-to snack while writing? I always keep crisps and cookies near me.

Have you ever experienced sexism?

I haven’t and I appreciate that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’ve just been lucky so far.

Do you prefer Zoom, face-to-face, or telephone interviews?

Always face-to-face! Sometimes I enjoy telephone interviews because it means I can be looking at my notes and prepare my next questions without the interviewee knowing, but face-to-face interviews are the best.

What are your hobbies?

I love live music and going to gigs and try to do so as much as possible. I enjoy reading and listening to podcasts too, such as Straight Up or Films To Be Buried With with Brett Goldstein.

Who did you think was going to be big from your course?

There were a lot of talented people on my course but I always saw Sascha Lavin as a really good writer. She had an empathetic approach, which I think is very important when it comes to sensitive contributors and vulnerable people and she had a great ability to bring that into her journalism. It’s a huge asset to be able to make people feel comfortable and safe, especially when you’re reporting diffcult stories.

What’s the most useful thing City taught you about journalism?

The ability to always be looking for stories and probing beyond the headlines and interrogating things a little bit further. The investigative course was really good at taking any idea we had, and pushing it as far as possible and seeing all the new angles that you can get from it. It got us into the habit of always being able to generate stories.

Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met?

I met Khloé Kardashian, years ago when I was invited to a restaurant opening while I was working at Time Out

Have you ever experienced racism or microaggressions in your career?

I have been really privileged in that sense. I have not experienced any racism or microaggressions in my career. However, I have in other aspects of my life.

SOFIA VYAS

Investigative Freelance Writer, Editor & Filmmaker

By Nandni Sharma

SOPHIE HUSKISSON

By Alice Wade

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words what would they be? Shorthand, headlines, podcasts.

What has been your biggest fail or embarrassing moment in your career?

When I was doing diary reporting at the Daily Mail, I’d go to these celebrity parties with people you might see on TV, and people who do radio or flms, as well as some high society socialites. My job was to chat to them and fnd out what they were up to, and get some gossip. I experienced quite a few embarrassing instances of going up to someone famous and not knowing who they were. There was one girl and I got her to completely spell out her name, I even wrote it in my notes on my phone and when I got home and checked her out, she had like 500,000 followers and I was like, ‘I feel really embarrassed right now’. She’d been on Made in Chelsea

Have you ever experienced racism or microaggressions in your career?

I have been confused with other black female political journalists before; that’s probably quite a standout, unfortunately. You’d think it wouldn’t happen a lot because there’s not that many of us. We just had to take it on the chin – and also fnd it quite hilarious because we look completely different. It was because we were the non-white ones.

Television

Documentary Researcher at Sky News

By Ella Gauci

What’s your best memory from your time on the course at City?

My best memory from the course has to be making the 30-minute documentary for our fnal project. From the initial days brainstorming ideas to the frst weeks of flming, and even to the last, very tense hours of editing, I loved every second of it. It gave me a taste of what was to come, as well as building on everything I had learnt over the previous 10 months.

What do you think is the main challenge to journalism currently?

The vilifcation of journalists, increased access to false news, and the rise of opinion-led TV news. Opinion is not journalism – journalists should equip people with the facts to form

their own opinion. There is a question to be asked about why people do increasingly enjoy this type of TV, but I really hope that the future of journalism is not made up of these so-called truth tellers in fashy studios.

What is something you wish someone would have told you about the industry when you frst started out?

I think it would probably be that a career in journalism is actually very fuid. It’s not just starting in news and staying there, only ever working on documentaries, or always being on a newspaper. There is defnitely a pressure when you frst start out to have this perfect idea of exactly what type of journalist you want to be and then working hard day in and day out to achieve that goal.

DARCEY EDKINS

By Ciéra Cree

CHEYENNE DARKO

Newspaper

Features Intern at British Vogue

By Sharnya Rajesh

Did you ever doubt yourself or feel impostor syndrome?

Oh my gosh, yes! All the time. I think in part because of the fnancial element. I got the George Viner scholarship, and because of that I’ve always felt like someone has paid for me to be here and I’m not working as hard as the others. I can see people working two jobs to pay for their masters. And of course, I’m also working. But I’m also just there feeling awful because it doesn’t look like I want it as much as they do. City was also an environment where everybody was very news-focused. Like serious business and fnancial reporting, and I was like: ‘Hi, I want to talk about London Fashion Week.’ So you do wonder, ‘Should I be here?’

What’s your death row meal?

Sushi. It’s an inoffensive meal. Actually no, because it can be done wrong. I need something safe. Sweet and sour chicken and rice. You just can’t go wrong – even if you just use a packet of sauce. If you mess it up, I refuse to die until you get right.

Have you ever experienced sexism in your career?

Not to me, personally. But I had some friends who went to interviews for different newspapers and were told during interviews not to wear low-neck

tops. Like, ‘we’re not going to give you the job if you try and seduce us,’ just weird things like that. And assumptions such as that only lads are into sports journalism. They do mindlessly say very old-fashioned things. And I think it’s also because the journalism world is still very white and male.

Do you have any family members in the industry?

No, I’m a frst gen journalist. It’s strange. My parents don’t get it – even right now. I’m working at the biggest fashion magazine in the world and they’re just like, ‘oh, so you’re into clothes stuff.’ Once I said, ‘but Mum, this is the crème de la crème. This is the big banana stuff,’ and she said, ‘you tell yourself that, you’re doing great’. I guess for them journalism just seems like uncertainty.

What is your worst fear as a journalist?

I think my biggest fear is the uncertainty of the job. It’s not like most jobs where you have a set structure of how you’re going to progress in your career. As a journalist, there is no set progression or journey in the industry. I think my biggest fear is not having that kind of secure work. It does always work out but it’s always just a bit terrifying. I’m just completely winging it.

What is your fondest memory of being at City?

Being surrounded by so many talented journalists and mentors was a privilege. I was inspired, encouraged, and supported by those around me and I made some lifelong friends.

What has been the highlight of your career so far?

Platforming underrepresented and marginalised voices has always been a priority. I feel very lucky that in my current role at Freeda I have been given the space to do that. In particular, I am proud that I have written about the violent misogyny and sexism that plagues our society by centring women with powerful stories.

Self care tip – how do you manage your well being?

Self-care can be a really diffcult thing to practise as a journalist. It’s important

to try to set clear boundaries between work and free time. When I was at City, I used to spend all my evenings and weekends chasing down stories and taking on extra work. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to be ambitious, but that should never come at the expense of your wellbeing. Burnout is real, especially in this industry, so it’s important to check in with yourself regularly. I also tend to turn off notifcations for emails and work messages after a certain time each day and try to monitor my screen time to avoid falling into ‘doom-scrolling’ on Twitter or TikTok. But nobody’s perfect and I am still trying to fnd that healthy balance between work and play.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

My grandma. She passed away a few years ago and I regret not asking her more questions.

MEIKE EIJSBERG

Data

Infographic Designer at The Telegraph

By Megan Geall

What was the module you liked the most on your course, and which the least?

Data journalism is the most memorable because it was my frst introduction to the feld. Our tutor, Glyn Mottershead, taught us the spreadsheet basics, how to keep a clean digital workspace, and some basic chart-building tools. In term two, we acquired some great data visualisation skills using D3.js and learned how to code in R studio. The latter is an extremely valuable data analysis and visualisation tool that I continue to use to this day.

What is your favourite thing about data journalism?

I love how versatile and broad it is. I’ve covered serious subjects like infation and lack of HIV testing, as well as pop culture topics like gender representation in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. As long as there is data – whether on an ONS spreadsheet, scraped from the internet, or gathered via FOI requests – there is a story to tell. Data journalism is a great combination of numbers and writing.

ALICIA FITZGERALD

Broadcast Reporter at Politics.co.uk

By Samantha Fink

What is the most useful skill you learned at City that you still use today?

To be bold and not to be afraid of things. Because you can have all the skills, and knowledge but if you’re too afraid to use them, it’s no good.

What has been the highlight of your career?

I work in the lobby in Parliament, which is just crazy. I’ve been to Downing Street, I’ve met Rishi Sunak, I’ve met people in the cabinet – so I think that’s pretty cool. Last year, when I frst started the job, I interviewed Mick Lynch at the time he was constantly in the news. I remember that being a really pivotal moment for me.

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words, what would they be?

Excellent professional preparation!

Do you have a piece of work that you are most proud of?

I have two. I’m very happy with how my fnal project for City turned out. It was a data-driven investigation on journalists who were murdered whilst reporting on armed confict. I analysed data from the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) and was able to reveal that (at least) 39 out of the 923 cases documented since 1992 could constitute war crimes.

The second was shortly after I fnished at City. I freelanced as a data journalist on an investigative project led by William Goodwin and Duncan Campbell, two excellent veteran investigative reporters. We systematically analysed hacked emails from Richard Dearlove, the former head of MI6 (amongst others), and found a very interesting story on his attempts to infuence the UK’s Huawei 5G policy. It’s up on Computer Weekly!

In terms of self care, how do you manage your wellbeing with a stressful job?

Oh, terribly. It is diffcult. It’s a lot of late nights. Contractually, I’m not meant to be doing really late nights, but that’s not how politics works. It’s diffcult but I think it’s important to use downtime to see your friends rather than getting too absorbed in work and feeling guilty about stopping. The journalist’s curse is being on Twitter all the time and sitting there on your phone while with your friends. So I think just making sure that your downtime is actually your downtime is the key.

What is your favourite post-print pub?

I just love a Greene King pub. Ironic, coming from someone who has access to independent bars and stuff, but there’s a Greene King pub called The Victoria. I love a Peroni and the fsh fnger sandwich. I never considered ordering it but a colleague suggested it and it’s really good.

If you weren’t a journalist right now, what would you be doing?

I’d love to work in wine. I’m interested in how it’s made and the branding of it. There’s such a romantic aura to that world.

Do you have a piece of work that you’re most proud of?

I had to go to this event after Jamie Oliver launched his new pasta brand, but my editor said that Oliver was on BBC Radio that morning discussing free school meals and wanted a quote on that subject too. When I showed up, there were pasta cooking demonstrations and loads of infuencers taking photos of him. I turned up in the kitchen and said, ‘hello, I’m from The Caterer, do you have any comments on free school meals since you brought that up earlier today?’. He gave me the quote I

ARYA FATIH

Broadcast Sky News Producer

By Emily Smith

If you could sum up your experience at City in three words what would they be? Intense. Caring. Connection.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

I would interview Zabihullah Mujahid, which I know sounds horrible as he's the spokesman for the Taliban. My family is from Afghanistan and I have a strong connection to the country. For me, women’s rights are very important. When the Taliban banned women from getting an education, he said: ‘If I was the one in power, then I would have let them go to school,’ which I found very, very interesting.

needed to write a short story. It was nerveracking and exciting but he was really nice. His PR person wasn’t too pleased, but he covered for me.

If you could interview anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

This is irrelevant to everything, but Steven Spielberg. He’s made so many warm and wholesome movies. He’s been a very important flmmaker to me – he’s good at making soppy flms, but not overly soppy.

Do you have a big fail or embarrassing moment in journalism that has taught you a lesson?

Once, I went to a Pizza Pilgrim launch party and the founders were there. I love their pizza, but I hadn’t done all my research. I got some statistics wrong and got really embarrassed. In reality, it wasn’t a huge deal, but when you interact with new people, you want to make sure you get everything right.

Can you sum up your experience at City in three words? Rewarding. Intense. Heavy. It was a tough year, but worth it.

JUNGMIN SEO

By Daniela Toporek

Have you ever experienced racism or microaggressions in your career?

There was a time I was afraid that a woman like me wouldn’t get to be in a newsroom. Because I'm Muslim (and visibly Muslim), I was scared of being trapped into only covering Islamic issues. I have realised this isn’t a bad thing and I can use my experiences to prove to my editor that I'm the one who should be covering the story. I’ve never experienced any racism overtly, and there are efforts being made in lots of different organisations, particularly at Sky, to promote greater diversity. We have a long way to go, for sure, but we should also commend the effort already being put in.

EXTRAS

Some of our favourite snippets from alumni interviews

“When I was at ELLE, [our favourite post-print pub was] the Covent Garden Hotel - we were in there so often, it was practically the canteen”

“Just realising how much English people drink was a big revelation for me”

“I’ve never forgotten the day the City acceptance dropped through my letter box”

“I regularly ask my male peers what they charge and up my rates accordingly”

“Journalism is definitely a job that you do because you love it, more than because you want to make millions of pounds. Right?”

“If we as journalists don’t value our time, work and craft by selling it for too little, we’re contributing to the downward spiral”

“I interviewed Jamie Oliver a couple of years after I left City. We ended up driving around North London in his blacked-out Range Rover (he called his driver ‘Big B*******’), drinking wine out of plastic cups and eating sweets”

the“Ifemployersdon’tgiveme rates I want, I leave”

DRINKS AFTER DEADLINE

From El Vino’s and The Stab, to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, every journo has a go-to watering hole. Katie Daly and Chloé Williamson compile alumni’s favourite drinking spots.

Andrew’s Restaurant, Holborn

Where: 59 Grays Inn Road Holborn, London WC1X 8TL

Why: Family run café serving top- notch English breakfasts that is known to be hired out for pop-ups by celeb chefs, such as Giorgio Locatelli

Recommended by: Zahra Warsame, Producer at Channel 4 News

John Snow, Soho

The Old Bell Tavern, Fleet Street

Where: 95 Fleet Street, London EC4Y 1DH

Why: The pub, owned by Nicholsons’, is 100 per cent powered by renewable electricity!

Recommended by: Jon Slattery, retired former Deputy Editor of Press Gazette and freelancer for InPublishing magazine

Where: 39 Broadwick Street, Carnaby, London W1F 9QJ

Why: Gorgeous dark-wood saloon bar, named after the doctor famous for discovering that cholera spreads through tainted water

The Red Lion, Westminster

Where: 48 Parliament St, London SW1A 2NH

Insider fact: “There was a scandal where one of Gordon Brown’s guys briefed the entire lobby that the UK wasn’t going to join the Euro from the Red Lion pub after work one day. And that’s because they’d found out that Blair was about to announce the next stage towards joining the Euro. So, there was basically a briefng in the room of a pub, just before deadline.”just before deadline.”

1 2 4

3

Recommended by: Kiran Stacey, Political Correspondent for The Guardian

The Victoria, Victoria

Where: 1 Lower Belgrave Street, London SW1W 0NR

Recommended by: Sofa Vyas, freelance editor, writer and documentary flmmaker 5

Why: Traditional pub built on a 19th Century site, just a stone’s throw from Victoria station. Try the fsh fnger sandwiches, they’re great!

Recommended by: Jungmin Seo, Reporter at The Caterer

Illustrations by Maddy Thorp Map image by Getty

Mystic Maira Aries

What the stars have in store for you

Today’s the day you get into a fst-fght with your editor.

Leo

There’s no such thing as slow-news Taurus.

No-one cares if it’s an n-dash or a hyphen. Remember to let your interviewee speak.

Gossip’s in your DNA, but remember to fact-check. Libel is real.

Sagittarius

Reporting from the beach is great, but remember to turn your camera on

Pisces

Capricorn

Yep, you’re gonna have to talk to people and yep, that’s your real pay-cheque

You wanted to change the world, but it’s just a listicle.

By Maira Butt and Tom Flanagan Graphics by Amy McArdle

You can’t invoice your pub time.

Cancer Aquarius

If your pitch is rejected, remember it’s you, not them.

Scorpio

Chatham House rules apply. Even if it’s your enemies.

Congrats, you found your niche magazine, and you’re the only subscriber!

Taurus

Gemini

Virgo

Libra

xcity.

ISSUE 37|2023

“I saw Lenny Kravitz’s heavily tattooed bottom. Later he showed me his enormous Python.” p.