Once upon a time, they chained the printing presses
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Now we can probably call them the good old days.
I’m referring to the time when the powers-that-be sent mean men to publication houses to put chains around printing equipment, or when journalists or writers were thrown into jail without fuss. At least then we knew the black from the white. It’s hard to tell what is right and what is wrong now, when the powers-that-be, or someone close to them, send you a cordial invitation for a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see Steven Gerrard square off against Robin van Persie in the flesh.
Would you accept the invitation? First you may think it doesn’t feel quite right. There are the issues of taxpayers’ money, and of the sender being a key figure in the country’s political divide. Then you think, “Why am I being too hard on myself? Others have done much worse.” Journalists are invited to join luxurious overseas trips every day, right? It’s not that I’ll take the trip and come back to promote amnesty for Thaksin Shinawatra straight away. Somebody else may do that, but definitely not me.
There you have it – the difference between the old days and now. In the past, it was a collective fear of persecution and a collective determination to be independent. At present, it’s a collective living in a grey area. Don’t get me wrong, there were rotten apples everywhere decades ago, too, but at least they were spared the need for futile soul-searching. They just screwed their conscience and joined the other side. As for those who refused to cross over, they didn’t have to endure the excruciating feeling of not knowing how to feel – proud or envious – as fellow journalists went about reaping the “benefits” of the profession.
In today’s world of journalism, not only is the line blurred, it’s also constantly on the move, slippery and fast. It can suddenly appear behind us instead of in front. That’s why many journalists honestly believe they have never crossed it, while in fact the only way for them to see the line is to look back.
House Speaker Somsak Kiatsuranont gave many journalists an offer they couldn’t turn down. A lot of them must have taken the opportunity to go to Anfield after telling themselves that their professional integrity would never be compromised. That’s the way things are nowadays. Everyone is teasing temptation, believing that he will prevail where others will fail. Everyone is thinking that if he comes back from England and stays away from glorifying Somsak or advocating his political agenda, the case will be closed. The line is still “in front of” them, so to speak.
Actually, that’s the idea. The “line” wants you to feel comfortable enough to fool yourself. It wants you to feel good if you return from an extravagant, politically sponsored tour of Europe and still manage to be independent. You have to be in the comfort zone for this trick to work. The game has changed. The stick has had its hair combed. The carrot-danglers, meanwhile, are patient, and stocked up with multiple supplies.
And if crossing the line is a subtle thing now, payback is a lot more so. Outright praise is ancient history for the amateurish, can’t-fool-themselves line-crossers, whose number has to be small these days. In the comfort zone beyond the line, you are even allowed to criticise Somsak, his Pheu Thai Party and the government. Payback is about timing of criticism and the ability to find something more important to lead the front page than, say, Somsak’s questionable attempt to resuscitate the amnesty bills. You still can do the right thing, but not necessarily at the right time.
Make no mistake, it’s not easy being a journalist today. Temptation sometimes disguises itself as necessity. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to tell which is which. You are not “tempted” to be present at an expensive dinner hosted by a politician, but you think it’s “necessary” to be there because you don’t want to miss a scoop. You are not “tempted” to stay at a five-star hotel a political party booked for you to cover its seminar in Phuket, but you are concerned that you will lose professional advantage having to run from a cheap hotel to the conference venue.
It’s unfortunate that “necessity” always exists on top of a slippery slope. The slightest push will send you tumbling down in a sweet, magical fall that you may not even notice. Today it may be Anfield and a glamour game between Liverpool and Manchester United, and tomorrow it may be some “necessary” per diem because even in the sacred sanctuary of Rome, everyone still has to eat. Before you know it, a golf game with the nice politician doesn’t feel so wrong anymore, and finally you’ll feel guilty if you don’t invite your golf partner to your wedding.
All this can ease past you like a nice summer breeze. It may even make you shake your head at the old days. Surely, having to work and keep one eye on the mean men and the chains all the time must be bad, mustn’t it?
