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Upon graduating from Seattle Pacific University I am going to be
a journalist. I have all the dreams and ambitions of a fledging
journalist; I am going to restore the public’s faith in print
media by accurately quoting sources, being up front about my intentions,
and most importantly writing stories that matter and make a difference.
But my ambitions and degree could not prepare me for writing the
stories that matter about trauma and its victims. Traditional journalism
education, with its emphasis on noble purposes such as: informing
the public to make knowledgeable decisions, giving a voice to the
voiceless, and helping citizens make sense out of a confusing world,
can not adequately prepare young journalists for reporting on trauma.
On May 7, a group of actors working with the DART Center for Journalism
and Trauma came to my journalism class. We were told that there
was an apartment building fire and that we were going to interview
victims and witnesses at the scene. It may be cliché, but
during that first encounter with trauma reporting, I froze, my mind
froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. I can only wonder how
it will be in the real world.
I am not the only student journalist to respond to trauma this
way.
“I was so unprepared and I spent a lot of time feeling dumbfounded
and shocked,” said Laura Onstot, the editor of the Falcon,
when she witnessed and reported on an SPU student being hit by a
car. “My mind really did freeze. There definitely needs to
be more trauma training for journalists.”
Unlike Laura I was given the opportunity to practice trauma reporting
before I encounter a real-life experience, but fear and horror still
set in. I was thankful I had chosen to wear a black shirt that day
because it concealed my sweat gland’s hyper anxiety.
I was so anxious because according to Migael Scherer, a rape survivor,
trauma is a severe emotional injury that leaves a victim haunted
and terrified. How in the world, as a reporter, do I approach somebody
experiencing these emotions with the intent of writing a story?
How insensitive and self serving are my intentions?
These were just a few of the questions in my thoughts. I froze
without any answers. I just had to approach the victim, an actor
assuming the character of an uncle who had just seen his niece wheeled
away on a stretcher, with no preparation and feeling like slime
because I was to write a story, capitalizing on his pain. I felt
like every question I could ask would be trivial in comparison to
what he was experiencing. I was also so fearful of my presence causing
more harm than good.
It is true that an insensitive or irresponsible journalist can
cause more harm than good, according to William Cote and Roger Simpson
in their book, Covering Violence.
But at the same time trauma is an event that must be covered because
it informs the public about what happens and hopefully with the
result of future prevention.
Prevention of future problems is a valid reason for reporting on
trauma but how, given the principle of detached objectivity in journalism,
and my fears of selfish intent, should a reporter cover an event
of traumatic magnitude? For the sake of a story does a journalist
need to cast aside their humanity?
“I went to get what happened, that’s my job,”
said Alex Sundby, my classmate and news editor for the UW Daily.
“But I wouldn’t be a robot and ignore my feelings. If
someone is sobbing and weeping I would not push but I would try
to console.”
According to Michael Schudson, author of Discovering the News,
a commitment to objectivity is, “a faith in facts, a distrust
in values, and a commitment to their separation.” This definition
says nothing about checking your humanity at the door. In no way
does the detachment of objectivity require that a journalist stop
being a human being.
In his memoir All Over but the Shoutin’, Rick Bragg,
a 1996 Pulitzer Prize winner said, “We are taught in this
business to leave our emotions out of a story, to view things with
pure objectivity. I learned that objectivity is pure crap.”
Objectivity means leaving feeling and values out of the writing,
but as Bragg recognized, as should all fledging journalists, journalists
are better to acknowledge their human side.
Learning about trauma and trauma reporting this past week has had
a sobering effect on me, sure I will make mistakes, but my experience
has taught me one thing.
Trauma victims need to be approached with the same precision and
care of a delivery room doctor bringing a new life into the world.
A trauma survivor is a new life, a new person, who must learn how
to live with the emotional scars of an event they have just experienced.
And journalism can provide a service to survivors by telling their
story, but only with proper preparation and believing that strict
objectivity is not always the best policy.
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