Let's fall back in love with journalism

Mail & Guardian

14 hours ago

We do what we do because of you. I desperately needed to hear those words when they were written by Sipho Kings after being appointed Mail & Guardian editor in 2020.
The world had turned upside down a few months earlier.
In March, we turned off the office lights as the Covid-19 lockdown set in, uncertain of what was to become of our society, let alone our publication. Not long after that we lost key staff, including our editors.
The M&G under editor-in-chief Khadija Patel and deputy editor Beauregard Tromp had been a glorious place to work. We produced agenda-setting journalism. But more than that it was steered by a distinctly humanist outlook: both in the agency we had to craft our stories and the people-first approach we had to them.
Advertising disappeared overnight in the pandemic. The unbreakable habits of newspaper readers were broken, never to return. A media career seemed a terrible prospect.
Sipho's words were a reminder of how backwards that perspective was. Journalism is more than the clichéd calling. It is a relationship with those that you serve. We have made a promise to you to operate with integrity and honesty. And in return you continue to support our work.
Knowing that you have given us a mandate to do what we do makes it a lot easier to get up in the morning.
Coincidentally, it is now exactly five years later that I hope those words will once more bring some small solace to my colleagues.
You have probably seen the news that the M&G has entered into a retrenchment process. We don't know the scale of restructuring yet, but these are invariably awful affairs. The uncertainty is debilitating. Somehow, in the middle of all of this, the team is still pushing out a quality product every day and week — something that fills me with pride and gratitude.
Above any intellectual ruminating about the profession is the cold fact that livelihoods are on the line. The people behind the bylines and editing desks do not deserve this.
For all the diverse personalities that have walked through its doors over the years, the M&G has had a magical quality of attracting similar sets of bright characteristics. An M&G journalist is curious, intelligent, acerbic with their pen, sceptical and just a little mischievous.
Above all they are fiercely loyal. There are scrupulous veterans in the newsroom who remember the paper's beginning, making their association with the brand longer than many of the rest of us have been alive.
Those first days were in 1985, when Anton Harber and Irwin Manoim founded the Weekly Mail at a critical point in South Africa's history.
Reminders of the M&G's role in democracy are hung up around the office in blown-up front covers. They are not just old newspapers but key moments over the last four decades. Nelson Mandela walking free with his fist in the air; an optimistic nation's first vote; the passing of icons such as Miriam Makeba and Brenda Fassie; former president Jacob Zuma's tumultuous presidency and ultimate imprisonment.
A staff favourite comes from June 1986. 'Our lawyers tell us we can say almost nothing critical about the emergency,' it reads, before practically winking, 'But we'll try.'
On the opposite wall is Zuma's then-spindoctor Mac Maharaj with 'Censored' taped over it. That lead story had to be pulled in 2011 at the last minute after the journalists working on it were threatened with criminal prosecution.
Those two images, crafted 25 years apart, say everything about the M&G. The paper has not wavered in its mission to hold the powerful to account, no matter who sits in the seat of influence. And it will take more than a legal letter and abuse of that power to deflate our stubbornness and commitment to readers.
Today's threat is very different. There are any number of reasons global media is struggling, and has been for some time. Some are of a more nefarious nature (algorithms that hold you attention span at gunpoint, for instance) and a fall in advertising and subscriptions. Others are simply inevitabilities of changing times.
But there is one fundamental truth that will never change: we do what we do because of you. Your support is as valuable today as it was in 2020. As it was in 1985.
We would be remiss not to use our platform to ask you for support. Taking out a subscription, if you don't have one already, would mean everything to us. If you're unable to do that then we ask you to merely share our story — online or with anyone who would listen.
My appeal is broader than just asking for your backing.
There have been more than a few cheers since the retrenchment news broke last week. That can be expected, but the scale of the schadenfreude has taken us aback. It is clear that trust for legacy media institutions is at an all-time low.
The M&G is not immune to criticism. We have made many mistakes over the years. What we can be unequivocal about, however, is that a blow to anyone in the news media is a gut punch to all of us.
That goes for all of our colleagues in the industry who have faced job losses and closure in recent years and to people outside of the media. Our society thrives when it has as many voices as possible; when dedicated people are given a good livelihood to give their time to their craft.
Progress is a beautiful thing, but there is still a need, and space, for the dogged values of trustworthy journalism.
My ask to you is that you give a second look to the woman at the robot selling Sunday newspapers; pause for a second at the newsstand as you rush out of the shops; make sure you go back to that op-ed online you promised yourself you'd read; explore the blogs, podcasts and web shows emerging from fantastic young journalists. Try to imagine the immense machinery at work behind the scenes in all these cases.
Talk about it with somebody else. South African society is a mishmash of backgrounds. An inclusive knowledge economy is how we sow strength in diversity, instead of division. When we pass around a newspaper on the bus, laugh about something funny we read in the office, or share an article we found interesting in a family chat group, we become united in our experiences and our stories get a little closer to one another.
Let's fall back in love with journalism. Together.
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