A HANDFUL of us believe that the Press is the last bulwark against the rising tide of irrationality, extremism and intolerance: When others rush to a conclusion, we alone must remain immobile; if others refuse to acknowledge a painful fact, then we alone must do so.
But nonetheless the Press cannot be a social or political platform. We aren’t wild-eyed prophets spouting
stories of doom, nor are we advertisers peddling cheap thrills of moral salvation.
We are merely instruments, and our puppeteer is Reason. Truth, as cadets in the profession ought to learn very quickly, is the best defence against those who would use the machinery of law, government, or even public opinion against us.
Of course no Press or media agency is ever truly free: We are slaves to interests, even if these are just our own little hobby-horses, and we differ from each other only in the degree of our adherence and how we
choose to go about our jobs.
Some chose this profession simply because there is nowhere else to go, just as many believe that Arts
graduates end up in the pitiable state of permanent hamburger flipping because they weren’t intelligent
enough for the Sciences. Too bad for them.
But it is true: Words, however potent, have little commercial value in this country unless they are put in
service to a product, a comedy script, or a political idea.
Some of us believe that this is exactly the reason why the Press bears such a fearful responsibility, and that the task of going to work each day must require wrestling with conscience, our own or those of others, if we are to remain true to what we do.
We often think ourselves clear sighted idealists, however paradoxical, and haughtily dismiss charges of
naïveté as the spineless nay-saying of lesser men and women: If we don’t stand up, who will? If we believe
the Press is being flushed down the toilet, then who will care enough to pull it out, if not ourselves?
With every measured argument don’t we set one more spark, however small, to the cold extinguished
tinder of good sense? And won’t we give that spark the breath of survival in the deepening twilight of reason?
With every word do we not arrest, even for the briefest moment, the total decline of our profession?
No, of course not. Our reason is eclipsed. All this is hyperbole and none of it is true.
At best, we preach to the converted. At worst, we falsely convince the young and inexperienced that there
is some honour left in our profession when all we do, with our talk of reason, moderation and honesty, is to hammer a fresh nail each day into the coffin of an already mouldering corpse.
“The truth is your best defence.”
This was one of the first things taught me by news editors Robert Ho and the late Donald Baptist when
I started in this work, and we managed to retain most of our dignity and self-respect by doing what we
needed with intelligence, finesse, and the conviction that our readers were not idiots.
But the times have changed. Fact has become indistinguishable from fiction and no one cares; fantasies
are realities and vice-versa, and still no one cares; and, having contributed to the wholesale dumbingdown
of an entire generation, I have come to suspect that anyone foolish enough to continue reading me is an
idiot after all.
The truth was my first defence. Now I hope it can still be my last. “A single word describes how we got to this point: Hypocrisy; and this is the danger of mounting the moral high-ground with no good reason.
The temptation to preach is great, and likewise also is the danger that we shall miss the woods for the trees.” I quote myself, from my column in this paper last Monday, for a reason:
My purpose was to induce widespread panic – not the kind that would land me in prison, but the deeper terror that should have had us all cowering in dread.
Where and when did we go off the rails? When did we decide that private conduct is a public issue simply
because the person under scrutiny is a public figure? And yet has recent debate not focused on the morality
on an individual at the expense of that individual’s basic expectations for common sense and decency?
Yes, the photographs of Elizabeth Wong are scandalous and compromising – but not to her. They
scandalise us. They compromise our principles – and if we but had the wit to perceive it, we should
apologise to the entire country for treating them like idiots and her as a common whore – for that is what
we did, is it not?
But wait, there is more:
“We must nip this sordid descent in the bud, for we would all be remiss in our duty as citizens if we allowed our public life to be overtaken by matters that should, by every conceivable standard of human decency, remain firmly private.”
Fine words, even if I say so myself (it took me some time to write them), and I stand by these words even if they have become mere lies.
● This is the last instalment of Open Society.
choose to go about our jobs.
Some chose this profession simply because there is nowhere else to go, just as many believe that Arts
graduates end up in the pitiable state of permanent hamburger flipping because they weren’t intelligent
enough for the Sciences. Too bad for them.
But it is true: Words, however potent, have little commercial value in this country unless they are put in
service to a product, a comedy script, or a political idea.
Some of us believe that this is exactly the reason why the Press bears such a fearful responsibility, and that the task of going to work each day must require wrestling with conscience, our own or those of others, if we are to remain true to what we do.
We often think ourselves clear sighted idealists, however paradoxical, and haughtily dismiss charges of
naïveté as the spineless nay-saying of lesser men and women: If we don’t stand up, who will? If we believe
the Press is being flushed down the toilet, then who will care enough to pull it out, if not ourselves?
With every measured argument don’t we set one more spark, however small, to the cold extinguished
tinder of good sense? And won’t we give that spark the breath of survival in the deepening twilight of reason?
With every word do we not arrest, even for the briefest moment, the total decline of our profession?
No, of course not. Our reason is eclipsed. All this is hyperbole and none of it is true.
At best, we preach to the converted. At worst, we falsely convince the young and inexperienced that there
is some honour left in our profession when all we do, with our talk of reason, moderation and honesty, is to hammer a fresh nail each day into the coffin of an already mouldering corpse.
“The truth is your best defence.”
This was one of the first things taught me by news editors Robert Ho and the late Donald Baptist when
I started in this work, and we managed to retain most of our dignity and self-respect by doing what we
needed with intelligence, finesse, and the conviction that our readers were not idiots.
But the times have changed. Fact has become indistinguishable from fiction and no one cares; fantasies
are realities and vice-versa, and still no one cares; and, having contributed to the wholesale dumbingdown
of an entire generation, I have come to suspect that anyone foolish enough to continue reading me is an
idiot after all.
The truth was my first defence. Now I hope it can still be my last. “A single word describes how we got to this point: Hypocrisy; and this is the danger of mounting the moral high-ground with no good reason.
The temptation to preach is great, and likewise also is the danger that we shall miss the woods for the trees.” I quote myself, from my column in this paper last Monday, for a reason:
My purpose was to induce widespread panic – not the kind that would land me in prison, but the deeper terror that should have had us all cowering in dread.
Where and when did we go off the rails? When did we decide that private conduct is a public issue simply
because the person under scrutiny is a public figure? And yet has recent debate not focused on the morality
on an individual at the expense of that individual’s basic expectations for common sense and decency?
Yes, the photographs of Elizabeth Wong are scandalous and compromising – but not to her. They
scandalise us. They compromise our principles – and if we but had the wit to perceive it, we should
apologise to the entire country for treating them like idiots and her as a common whore – for that is what
we did, is it not?
But wait, there is more:
“We must nip this sordid descent in the bud, for we would all be remiss in our duty as citizens if we allowed our public life to be overtaken by matters that should, by every conceivable standard of human decency, remain firmly private.”
Fine words, even if I say so myself (it took me some time to write them), and I stand by these words even if they have become mere lies.
● This is the last instalment of Open Society.
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