Former Business Post reporter wins Pulitzer Prize for Sudan civil war investigation
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Former Business Post reporter wins Pulitzer Prize for Sudan civil war investigation
Trudy Feenane
17:09
Declan Walsh pictured speaking in the New York Times newsroom alongside Ivor Prickett (right) and members of the team who won the Pulitzer Prize for international reporting. Photograph: Hiroko Masuike/The New York Times
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Irish Times
34 minutes ago
- Irish Times
Why is Irish media so reticent about covering gender issues?
The phrase 'third rail' was originally coined to describe the electrified line that runs alongside train tracks, deadly to the touch. In politics and public discourse, it has come to signify any subject deemed too dangerous, too radioactive, too fraught to approach. And while journalism in a liberal democracy is, in theory, about touching all the rails – especially the live ones – theory and practice often diverge. Last week, the New York Times published all six episodes of The Protocol , a podcast series that represents a significant moment in the polarised US debate around youth transgender healthcare. The series explores how the standardised medical approach to gender transition in minors was developed in the Netherlands in the 1990s. Known as the 'Dutch protocol', the model recommends the use of puberty blockers and hormone therapy for carefully assessed adolescents experiencing gender dysphoria. That protocol was later exported, adapted – and contested – elsewhere, including in the United Kingdom and United States, where culture war battle lines have long since been drawn. The New York Times podcast tells a story of shifting medical consensus, political pressure, and institutional confusion. But it also carries a subtext about journalism itself – how hard it can be for newsrooms to report accurately and fairly on an issue that cuts so close to the cultural bone. READ MORE It's worth noting that the New York Times has not emerged from this process unscathed. Over the past few years, its coverage of trans issues has prompted significant internal dissent. A 2022 feature by journalist Emily Bazelon questioning aspects of the prevailing medical model and an article by Katie Baker in 2023 titled, When Students Change Gender Identity and Parents Don't Know sparked public protests, petitions signed by some of the paper's reporters, and an open letter from celebrities and activists accusing the newspaper of platforming 'anti-trans bigotry'. Senior editors responded with unusually sharp criticism of their staff, insisting that journalism 'cannot exist in service of any cause'. The Protocol feels, in part, like an attempt to reset. Bazelon is credited as an adviser on the podcast. The editorial tone is serious, sober, and almost anxious in its caution. There are no polemics. But the very act of producing it – at scale, with resources and rigour – feels like a line being drawn: a claim that this subject, however charged, can and should be reported on without fear or favour. How to manage your pension in these volatile times Listen | 37:00 Which brings us to this side of the Atlantic. In the same week The Protocol dropped, Irish psychotherapist Stella O'Malley published a blog post recounting her own experience with Irish media. O'Malley, a founder of the organisation Genspect, is sharply critical in the post and in an interview on the State of Us podcast , of what she describes as the effective blacklisting of dissenting voices on the issue of youth transition by Irish media, including The Irish Times. 'In Ireland,' she writes, 'cancel culture doesn't burn you at the stake – it quietly leaves you out in the cold'. O'Malley is particularly scathing about RTÉ, where, until 2021, she had been a regular contributor to national discussions on youth mental health. Since then, she says, her media invitations have dried up. She cites the Irish media's lack of coverage on key developments abroad, such as the closure of the Tavistock gender clinic in London following the Cass Review, or the recent UK Supreme Court ruling that sex, not gender identity, should be the basis of protections under equality law, as evidence of what she characterises as a systemic avoidance of uncomfortable facts. Of course, O'Malley is now an activist with a clear ideological stance, and reasonable people can disagree with her conclusions or question her affiliations. But if activism were a barrier to participation in Irish current affairs programmes, there would be an awful lot of silence on our airwaves. What seems harder to deny is that, in her case and others, views that challenge the prevailing orthodoxy on gender identity are seen as beyond the pale. This may explain a striking media gap. The Cass Review in the UK, a years-long, evidence-based review of youth gender services led by a respected paediatrician, concluded that the medical model developed in the Netherlands and exported widely was, in many cases, being applied without sufficient clinical oversight. It led directly to the suspension of all routine prescription of puberty blockers to under-18s in the National Health Service. The Irish media coverage of this was scant, scattered and mostly relegated to the opinion pages, even though it had a direct impact on the treatment of Irish children, or that the largest political party on the island, Sinn Féin, was forced into policy contortions on either side of the Border as a result. Why the reticence? There is a commonly heard view that to even enter this debate is to engage in a 'toxic' discourse imported from Britain and the US – best avoided in a mature, progressive society. But this is an odd position, especially in a media culture that otherwise shows little hesitation in following every twist and turn of UK and US affairs, from the post-Brexit travails of the Conservative party to the power struggles within the Trump White House. The truth may be simpler and more uncomfortable. Irish journalism, like Irish society, is small. The circles are tight. The cost of stepping on the wrong third rail – socially, professionally, reputationally – is high. Better, perhaps, to look away. And yet the issues are not going away. Ireland, like every other country, is grappling with questions of medical ethics, consent, identity, and law. Young people experiencing gender distress deserve compassionate, evidence-based care. But they also deserve a society willing to discuss that care honestly. And journalists, if they are doing their jobs, have to be part of that conversation, even when it's difficult.
Irish Examiner
6 days ago
- Irish Examiner
Groundbreaking gay author Edmund White dies at 85
Edmund White, the groundbreaking man of letters who documented and imagined the gay revolution through journalism, essays, plays and such novels as A Boy's Own Story and The Beautiful Room Is Empty, has died. He was 85. White's death was confirmed on Wednesday by his agent, Bill Clegg, who did not immediately provide additional details. Along with Larry Kramer, Armistead Maupin and others, White was among a generation of gay writers who in the 1970s became bards for a community no longer afraid to declare its existence. He was present at the Stonewall raids of 1969, when arrests at a club in Greenwich Village led to the birth of the modern gay movement, and for decades was a participant and observer through the tragedy of Aids, the advance of gay rights and culture and the backlash of recent years. A resident of New York and Paris for much of his adult life, he was a novelist, journalist, biographer, playwright, activist, teacher and memoirist. Author Edmund White at his home in New York in 2019 (Mary Altaffer/AP) A Boy's Own Story was a bestseller and classic coming-of-age novel that demonstrated gay literature's commercial appeal. He wrote a prizewinning biography of playwright Jean Genet and books on Marcel Proust and Arthur Rimbaud. He was a professor of creative writing at Princeton University, where colleagues included Toni Morrison and his close friend, Joyce Carol Oates. He was an encyclopaedic reader who absorbed literature worldwide while returning yearly to such favourites as Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and Henry Green's Nothing. 'Among gay writers of his generation, Edmund White has emerged as the most versatile man of letters,' cultural critic Morris Dickstein wrote in The New York Times in 1995. 'A cosmopolitan writer with a deep sense of tradition, he has bridged the gap between gay subcultures and a broader literary audience.' In early 1982, just as the public was learning about Aids, White was among the founders of Gay Men's Health Crisis, which advocated Aids prevention and education. The author himself would learn that he was HIV-positive in 1985, and would remember friends afraid to be kissed by him, even on the cheek, and parents who did not want him to touch their babies. White survived, but watched countless peers and loved ones die. Out of the seven gay men, including White, who formed the influential writing group the Violet Quill, four died of complications from Aids. As White wrote in his elegiac novel The Farewell Symphony, the story followed a shocking arc: 'Oppressed in the fifties, freed in the sixties, exalted in the seventies and wiped out in the eighties.' Your characters don't need to inhabit a ghetto any more than you do. A straight writer can write a gay novel and not worry about it, and a gay novelist can write about straight people But in the 1990s he lived to see gay people granted the right to marry and serve in the military, to see gay-themed books taught in schools and to see gay writers so widely published that they no longer needed to write about gay lives. 'We're in this post-gay period where you can announce to everybody that you yourself are gay, and you can write books in which there are gay characters, but you don't need to write exclusively about that,' he said in a Salon interview in 2009. 'Your characters don't need to inhabit a ghetto any more than you do. A straight writer can write a gay novel and not worry about it, and a gay novelist can write about straight people.' In 2019, White received a National Book Award medal for lifetime achievement, an honour previously given to Morrison and Philip Roth among others. 'To go from the most maligned to a highly lauded writer in a half-century is astonishing,' White said during his acceptance speech. White was born in Cincinnati in 1940, but age at seven moved with his mother to the Chicago area after his parents divorced. His father was a civil engineer, his mother a psychologist 'given to rages or fits of weeping'. Trapped in 'the closed, snivelling, resentful world of childhood,' at times suicidal, White was at the same time a 'fierce little autodidact' who sought escape through the stories of others, whether Thomas Mann's Death In Venice or a biography of the dancer Vaslav Nijinsky. 'As a young teenager I looked desperately for things to read that might excite me or assure me I wasn't the only one, that might confirm my identity I was unhappily piecing together,' he wrote in the essay Out Of The Closet, On To The Bookshelf, published in 1991. Even as he secretly wrote a 'coming out' novel while a teenager, he insisted on seeing a therapist and begged to be sent to boarding school. Edmund White was one of the leading gay American authors (Mary Altaffer/AP) After graduating from the University of Michigan, where he majored in Chinese, he moved to New York in the early 1960s and worked for years as a writer for Time-Life Books and an editor for The Saturday Review. He would interview Tennessee Williams and Truman Capote among others, and, for some assignments, was joined by photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Socially, he met William S Burroughs, Jasper Johns, Christopher Isherwood and John Ashbery. He remembered drinking espresso with an ambitious singer named Naomi Cohen, whom the world would soon know as 'Mama Cass' of the Mamas and Papas. He feuded with Kramer, Gore Vidal and Susan Sontag, an early supporter who withdrew a blurb for 'A Boy's Own Story' after he caricatured her in the novel Caracole. 'In all my years of therapy I never got to the bottom of my impulse toward treachery, especially toward people who'd helped me and befriended me,' he later wrote. Through much of the 1960s, he was writing novels that were rejected or never finished. Late at night, he would 'dress as a hippie, and head out for the bars'. A favourite stop was the Stonewall and he was in the neighbourhood on the night of June 28 1969, when police raided the Stonewall and 'all hell broke loose.' 'Up until that moment we had all thought homosexuality was a medical term,' wrote White, who soon joined the protests. 'Suddenly we saw that we could be a minority group — with rights, a culture, an agenda.' His works included Skinned Alive: Stories and the novel A Previous Life, in which he turns himself into a fictional character and imagines himself long forgotten after his death. In 2009, he published City Boy, a memoir of New York in the 1960s and 1970s in which he told of his friendships and rivalries and gave the real names of fictional characters from his earlier novels. 'From an early age I had the idea that writing was truth-telling,' he told The Guardian. 'It's on the record. Everybody can see it. Maybe it goes back to the sacred origins of literature – the holy book. 'There's nothing holy about it for me, but it should be serious and it should be totally transparent.'
Business Post
6 days ago
- Business Post
Colm Lauder: EU must be careful not to stunt non-bank lenders' key role in Irish housing sector
Business Post subscribers can read: • What approach the ECB needs to take in its stress tests • Why individual country considerations must be taken into account • Why non-bank lenders are so key to the Irish housing sector
