A year like no other
Star Editor: How we’ve tried to meet the challenge of Canada’s pandemic year through our journalism,
When we talk about trust and journalism, we normally we mean trust in journalism. But can we talk for a moment about the work of news as a trust? As in, a duty and responsibility, and what that means, at least to me.
These 12 months since this country’s first case of what would come to be called COVID-19 was announced by Health Canada have been, for many, a kaleidoscope of emotions: fear, anxiousness, grief, isolation, collectivity, anger, resentment, joy, meaning, understanding, confusion, uncertainty, perseverance, resilience.
“Does anyone have discrete emotions anymore?” I read somewhere.
From my perch at the Star, I saw this: something enormous, life-altering and deadly bearing down on the city, province and country we cover. Along with a fearsome viral load, it carried pain, uncertainty, anxiety and confusion. But as a newsroom, we could do something to help. We could restore some semblance of coherence to the jumble of government policies and scientific revelations. We could restore accountability through investigations, data journalism and campaigns for transparency. We could awaken personal power, in the form of responsible health and science reporting, expert Q&A’s, and clear explanations of how the actions of each of us affect all of us.
Some of us spent a lot of time looking for signals to understand where people’s heads and hearts were at on any given week. When they were hungry for heavy, complex information, or when they wanted a break, a sliver of forgetfulness. To be, as often as possible, what you needed, just when you needed it.
In January 2020, our main task was divining how much attention to give the burgeoning virus. By early March, we balanced a growing urgency with (already!) audience fatigue and accusations of fear-mongering. We saw how some used the constantly and swiftly evolving scientific information as a reason to disbelieve the parts they didn’t like.
Meanwhile, we lived a realtime social experiment; how long could people put their lives on hold and cheerlead through personal sacrifice for the common good? (By my loose count, about six weeks for some, though it persists still for many.) The vastly different ways people experienced the pandemic stretched equity gaps within our society ever wider. “All in it together” was a brief, lovely lie.
This is where that trust comes in. Even amid a colossal wave of misinformation, in a nerverattling battle for attention with things that are more colourful, loud or pleasant, amid a frankly agonizing industrywide financial fight, journalism is a powerful thing.
I learned that at inflection points it’s not enough to report on what is said, but that we must also address what people see, hear and feel. These aren’t always the same thing. That’s partly what’s happening when officials insist with growing alarm that they COULDN’T BE CLEARER, while, away from their podiums, mobility data, climbing cases, ICU and death counts reveal what people actually heard. To not address what is being heard and felt, along with what is actually said, is a lost chance to reach people at a time they need us most.
It’s part of our job to feed people’s hearts and souls, so we added art literary essays, partnerships with cultural institutions such as the Toronto Symphony Orchestra and, most recently, our new TOgether Sunday section, to our coverage. We’ll look to nourish and grow these sources of light. But there’s no doubt, this was a serious year. Newsrooms are known for a dark humour, often an essential coping mechanism. But in a year without a second of stop, serious things were happening, with lifealtering consequences. The virus doesn’t care if we’re tired, sad or scared. The imperative is to inform, record and reflect, responsibly. That is a public trust, serious business. And it showed.
Always present in my mind was that we’re living in a period that will be looked upon as historical. Just as we had combed through archives of the 1918-’20 pandemic, looking for insights and understanding, so will people at some point sift through what we are writing this year. The time we are living through will be taught in classes. Not just pandemic, but other historical lines in the sand, such as the siege on democracy, and an anti-racism reckoning. Our journalism trust is to the public today, but also to the public of tomorrow. You are the judge of how we did for the first part. History will be the judge of how we did, both as a society, and as a newsroom, for the rest.
But I’ll say this for the record: I watch with awe how this newsroom gives its all, amid personal and professional trials, for the sake of the public trust. I see the challenges it overcomes, the persistence with which it attacks each new development, each new outrage, tragedy and inspiration, for the public trust. I know what it costs to do this. It’s a privilege to work with them and for you, in this ongoing time of pandemic, when what matters most is revealed, if we have the courage, grace, kindness, compassion and insight to see it.
I hope you see it in your personal life, and I hope you see it in our journalism.
At inflection points it’s not enough to report on what is said, but that we must also address what people see, hear and feel