106: Goodbye Fairfax, but what's in a name anyway?

The Fairfax name is soon to disappear from the Australasian media scene forever, but there are more important things than a name.

After decades of media dominance on both side of the Tasman, the Australian arm of Fairfax is about to be absorbed by the mighty Nine Network, and it's already been made quite clear that the Fairfax title will be replaced by the bigger media group.

Fairfax has, of course, already been renamed in NZ, with the group taking on the Stuff moniker that has been so successful for its website for 20-odd years now. So when Nine gobbles it up, that's it, it's gone for good.

There have been a number of comment and analysis pieces that have greeted this news with sadness and made a great deal over the Fairfax name will go, and that it symbolises the end of an era in journalism.

It's certainly some sort of era-defining moment, and it will be morbidly fascinating to see how the mega-media company functions over the next few years. But one thing you can count on is that the people on the newsroom floor had more things to worry about than the sign outside the building and all that symbolism it represents, not when they've got kids to feed and rent to pay, and they don't know if they'll have jobs in this new world order.

There will be an inevitable gutting of resources and mass layoffs, leading to vastly more mediocre journalism being produced in bulk, and compared to that, who gives a shit about the name?

Media companies are constantly changing names, especially when a new bunch of executives comes in, and tries to leave some sort of mark with a hugely expensive rebranding exercise. These names are almost always met with a resigned shrug by reporters, editors and producers - they've got plenty of other things to worry about.

We've seen this happen several times in New Zealand here in recent years, and it's usually pretty painless. The worst thing about NZME's birth from the ashes of APN was the executive branch's insistence that pedantic grammar hounds in their newsrooms had to put the full stop on the end of the acronym; while Newshub just sounded bloody weird when TV3's journos had to first spit it out at the end of their reports, but you now see reporters and presenters referring to The 'Shub with some affection.

And nobody really cared when Fairfax became Stuff over here - a dorky and awkward name for a website has become utterly synonymous with the news in this dorky and awkward country, and now the whole company here is lumbered with it.

But so what? It's the work that matters, and the people who do that work in these companies. The biggest worry about the Nine/Fairfax merger is the way the big boys in the Australian boardroom are so mindlessly dismissive of their NZ operations, putting the livelihoods of dozens and dozens of top-class journos over here at risk, (and giving NBR publisher Todd Scott some lunatic ideas for a takeover of the country's biggest publisher, which the Media Scrum team are just going to try and politely ignore and shuffle away from).

Once upon a time, when journos could be guaranteed a job for life with the same company, they might have put some faith in that company's name, but after decades of being treated by shit by the powers that be, journos don't give a damn. It's no use putting your loyalty behind a name that gives none back.

Fairfax is just a name, and it's now officially a name from the past. After all, nobody cares about the actual Fairfax family anymore, not after they gradually pissed away their vast media legacy.

Journalists are the kind of wankers who quote lines from The Crucible in real life, and while nobody is denying that John Proctor's fervent belief that he should be left with his name (because that's all he has!) is a good and just one, because sometimes all you've got is your name. But Fairfax will leave dozens of newsrooms and hundreds of talented journalists behind when it fades away, and they should be the focus for the future.

- Ron Troupe

105. It's the way you say it

The Kiwi cultural cringe has been a real thing for a long, long time and when it comes to the local voice, New Zealanders have been embarrassed by their own accent coming over the wireless or telly for as long as those mediums have existed.

It's still there. We're nearly two decades into the 21st century, and some people are still moaning about the fact that our broadcast journos don't sound like BBC radio announcers from the 1930s.
For most of the past century, our broadcasters were forced to adapt the most dreadful and unsatisfying combination of the Queen’s English and their own local sound – something that was neither here nor there.

Things have relaxed over the years, but any journo or presenter that dares to get a Kiwi twang in their voice is mercilessly slated, and unless it is a booming, powerful voice, anything truly distinctive is still sneered at.

In these politically aware age, anybody with half a brain and part of a soul knows you don't go around slagging people off for their physical appearance - you just don't make fun of people with ginger hair or a big backside, not without coming across as a complete tool. But you still hear people making fun of somebody's voice, and if they dare to imagine they can broadcast that voice, they're only asking for ridicule. It's their fault, on account of the way they talk.

After all, people with slightly odd voices don't have any real feelings, not like regular people, and deserve to have their self-esteem torn down by sneers and snide laughter. (The fact that it’s mainly the women journalists that have to take this kind of shit is also worth noting.)

There are, admittedly, issues with Maori pronunciation coming over the airwaves, with sacred place names and concepts sometimes mangled, but there is also a general attempt to nail the right sound, which should always be actively encouraged. Anybody intentionally getting it wrong, over and over, deserves all the flak they get, but most people make the effort.

There are also some great voices on our airwaves, like the warm tones of Newstalk ZB great Neva Retimanu; or the beautiful booms of John Campbell's voice, wherever it’s coming from; or a number of TV journos and presenters with some smooth-as-hell voices (this past weekend’s Newshub bulletins - which featured the Ashburton-bred tones of both deep-voiced Mitch McCann and Media Scrum fave Susie Nordqvist - was a goddamn treat for the ears).

But there are also a bunch of distinctive voices that don’t sound like anybody else on air, and there is no shortage of arseholes willing to stay laying into them. Some voices can be shrill or high-pitched, and some reporters have stilted, breathless delivery, or droning tones, or broad, flat accents. Some of them just sound a bit weird and strange.

But so what? While a bit of charisma can go a long way, the important thing is that people can still just understand you, and a distinctive delivery can bring some life to the driest of reports.

And it also matters because we shouldn't be ashamed where we come from. If you're from Gore or Gisbourne, you should be proud how where you come from. And you should be proud to let the world hear it through your own individual voice, not the one that was mercilessly drummed into you at broadcasting school.

Bring on the Kiwi whine, even if it crackles with a touch of the vocal fry. Our greatest broadcasters have voices that are still remembered years and years later, not because they were blandly understandable, but because they were goddamn distinctive.

All these years later, Angela D'Audney's unmistakably Kiwi delivery is as fondly remembered as Philip Sherry’s, even if it wasn’t as smooth or slick. It’s a kind of voice that’s always still worth hearing.

-Katherine Grant

104. No newsroom can avoid the churn

John Campbell's forthcoming move from RNZ to TVNZ is a massive loss for the public radio organisation. Campbell is their brightest talent, anchoring that vital 5pm-6.30pm slot with his insightful and passionate work. He's still the best in the country at getting incredible interviews from members of the public – everybody wants to talk to John - and is genuinely irreplaceable.

But his move should not really a surprise for anybody. As good as he is at presenting news shows, he's even better out in the field, while TVNZ has made no secret that they wanted to add him to their roster. He's always been a TV man at heart, so of course he's going back to it.

It's also not a surprise because media companies in this country have a huge staff churn of staff. No newsroom is that stable, and no line-up lasts forever.

There have been some exceptionally chin-stroking think-pieces in recent days of what it all means for the public broadcaster. You don't have to look far to see people pontificating on the morale at RNZ, and how the government's backtrack on funding is affecting staff, and how Carol Hirschfeld's sudden resignation has had an impact, and how nobody seems to know what's happening to The Wireless.

These pieces are usually written by people who have some tenuous connection to Radio NZ, and you can tell, because they haven't actually gone far enough – while they usually mention the loss of Campbell and Hirshfeld, there have been other huge losses in the past few months. Long-serving Auckland correspondent Todd Niall has gone to Stuff, and excellent reporters like Benedict Collins, Laura Tupou and Mei Heron have all buggered off to television. Lynda Chanwai-Earle, who was behind the excellent Voices editor has gone and almost the entire Wireless team has been replaced.

There have been a dozen other resignations in the past year, especially from off-air staff who never see their name in lights, but do invaluable work behind the scenes. And it's far from over, with other members of that brilliant Checkpoint team bound to follow JC out the door, and at least one prominent on-air personality currently in a total shitfight to keep their job.

Many of these people have legitimate grievances with the organisation and the people who run things there, and RNZ does have problems – including some incredibly shitty pay rates - but to suggest that this wave of quitting proves there is a toxic culture is pushing it.

Because this kind of thing is hardly unique. Newsroom in this country are always cycling through a huge amount of staff, and reporters who have only been in the game for a few years suddenly find themselves in senior positions as older workmates jump ship to other newsrooms or out of the profession altogether, and have to be replaced by people who are still figuring out how this whole news thing works.

Most people leave for better pay and hours, but there might be a hundred other reasons, with some leaving for the OE, while others are just burned out. There tend to be waves of people all leaving at once, but this is no suicide pact – sometimes one person leaving can be enough to push others to make a similar decision, or it could just be total coincidence

The bigger the newsroom, the more stable it can be, and they can lose a few people without really having a huge impact. But a huge organisation will also lose people all the damn time, because individual people have individual needs and wants, and a bit of new blood every now and then is also healthy for the mix.

No newsroom is going to hold onto everybody forever, even if you're working in a place that doesn't have commercial or promotional imperatives like RNZ. The public broadcaster is not a perfect place to work, but it's just as bad almost everywhere else

There are still going o be some glum people at RNZ when John signs off for the last time, but life goes on.

- Margaret Tempest

103. Always look for the bright side of life

There is a certain amount of truth in the old newspaper cliche of 'if it bleeds, it leads' - both consumers and producers of every kind of news are drawn to stories of death and disaster.

It's just the way human beings work. We all slow down to rubberneck at a crash scene, even as we moan about everybody else doing the same thing. We're drawn to stories of violence and tragedy, even if we feel guilty about it later.
 
Fortunately, it's not all just ghoulish voyeurism. There is also some genuine social worth in covering awful events, because talking about and examining these events is the only way we're ever going to stop them happening again. As interested as we all are, we still don't want it to happen again, and anything we can learn about the event to prevent a re-occurrence is vital.

And while many social media loudmouths think journalists are scum who are only interested in the horrible side of things, we do actually love doing stories about the lighter side of life - stories of rescue and perseverance and good people doing good things.

There are a number of reasons for this. One is that we're always trying to offer as big a variety of stories as possible, and we need some lightness to break up the goddamn gloom. Some days it's almost unavoidable to fill newspapers and bulletins and websites with terrible events - some afternoons all the gross court stuff comes down at once, or there are some awful crashes on our roads, or some mass shooting overseas - and editors will be desperate for something to break up the grimness. It just creates a better overall product, and reminds everybody that the whole world isn't completely shit all of the time, no matter how much it can feel that way.

Another reason is that we're goddamn human beings and it can be genuinely difficult to deal with some of the shit that slides across our desks - we have to go through photos of terrible disasters to make sure we're not accidentally posting something upsettingly gory, we have to deal with endless stories of grief in the wake of natural catastrophes. We don't want to spend all day on the dark side, and want to cover the good stuff  too.

Just like everybody else, journos - even those accused of being the most superficial - are people with actual feelings and empathy and sorrow. As cynical as we can get, we desperately want to know that there is good in the world, and share it, in some bid to offset all the drama.

If you want to see proof, go back and look at the goofy grins on the reporters who covered the PM's pregnancy and birth - hard-nosed and hard-bitten journos who we're used to seeing scowling in the background were all over that.

Fortunately, while the world in general remains vast and uncaring, there are some stories of hope - as well as the PM's baby, there are things like the missing Thai teenagers who were found alive in a flooded cave, nine days after they vanished. Another grim story of tragedy, suddenly became one full of hope and optimism. While they face a huge task to still get them all out at this stage, we're all desperately hoping for that happy ending. 

After all, the rescue of the Chilean miners in 2010 was far more engrossing and goddamn uplifting than all the other tragic mine accidents that strike every year. We all want to see those kids out on the football field in the sun again. It's good news, and makes for a far greater story of adversity and persistence.

The local media outfits are after that positive rush, even as they lead the news with something tragic. TVNZ has been running its Good Sorts segments for years now, highlighting monumental acts of decency and kindness around the country, and the NZ Herald, which has always willing to make things as literal as possible, has even started labelling some of its stories as unashamed good news.

Sometimes it feels like we just need to have some good news for once. The end consumer might lament the lack of it, but the people behind the headlines need it even more.

- Margaret Tempest

102. Don't give away your secrets

Here's a top tip for both aspiring and experienced journalists - if you figure out a way to get blacked-out information from a government report that has been redacted to hell, don't fucking include in your report how you fucking did it, because those arseholes who are trying to hide this fucking information will realise what they've been doing wrong, and nobody will ever get that fucking information in that fucking way ever again, including rival news outlets who also figured out this trick, and are left high and dry by the reporter who tried to show off how fucking clever they are, and instead just looked like a fucking idiot, or at least a cheap magician who can't fucking help showing everybody how they fucking do their tricks.

We're not going to name and shame the people responsible for a particularly egregious case of this kind of idiocy that popped up last week, but they know what they did, and we can only hope they don't fucking do it again.

Don't give away how you do this shit, just do it. Everything else is pure narcissism, and there's too much of that in the local news media scene as there is.

- Katherine Grant