bought the line, in the initial stages, that the killings were a straightforward ‘tribal war’.
But for many others, such as the BBC’s David Loyn, abandoning the ideals of impartiality or being ‘liberated from the yoke of objectivity’ risks becoming lost in moral relativism that threatens the whole business of reporting (2003). In terms of boundary work, Bell’s practice of journalism was seen as being outside what is viewed as acceptable and thus led to what Gieryn (1999) labelled as the genre of ‘expulsion’.
One of the most emotional phases in US journalism was the period of the September 11 attacks in 2001. Many forms of American media engaged in highly jingoistic coverage and adopted the Bush administration’s language of the ‘War on Terror’. News anchors wore pins showing the Stars and Stripes and statistical analyses of broadcast and text content had an overwhelming preponderance of pro-administration sources. British media, primarily the BBC, The Guardian and The Economist, were able to capitalise on growing disillusion with the highly partisan US coverage following September 11, increasing their market share and circulation in the United States through their more objective approach. Analysing September 11, Sreberny (2002: 221) has argued that the combination of what was a global media event watched live by millions on television and the outpouring of emotion created an ‘affective public sphere’. The everyday taken-for-granted norms of journalism were shaken in rushed opinion and emotion, driven by trauma:
The balance seemed to shift between the ordinary work of journalism and a kind of extraordinary writing that people seemed to need to write and others to read – writing as catharsis, writing trauma out of ourselves, trauma talk.
Other academics have identified a series of triggers, which can lead to the normative rules of journalism being challenged or disrupted in favour of emotional coverage. In the wake of September 11, Schudson (2002: 40) attempted to define the criteria that led journalists to move into Hallin’s sphere of consensus in which they cast aside the more normal reporting behaviour or the ‘sphere of legitimate controversy’ (Hallin, 1986). Schudson (2002) identifies three typical circumstances when normative journalistic behaviour breaks down:
1 In moments of tragedy, journalists tend to assume a pastoral role. This is characterised by hushed, reverent tones of television and radio presenters and is evident at times of political assassination (e.g., President Kennedy in 1963), state funerals or the mourning of victims.
2 In moments of public danger, whether from terror attacks or natural disaster (such as Hurricane Katrina in 2005), journalists tend to offer practical advice (e.g., disseminating a public health campaign) and communicate solidarity.
3 In moments of threats to national security (e.g., the botched American invasion of the Bay of Pigs on Cuba in 1961) journalists tend to willingly withhold or temper their reports.
For Schudson, September 11 fulfilled all three criteria – a tragedy a public danger and a threat to national security, which led to President George W. Bush declaring ‘War on Terror’. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Rosenstiel and Kovach (2005) identified similar criteria for what they judged to be the legitimate injection of emotion as they attempted to redefine ‘feeling rules’ associated with journalism. That expression can be traced back to a 1979 paper in which Hochschild argued that people tend to feel in ways ‘appropriate to the situation’, something that is often a result of socially shared, albeit often latent rules (1979: 563). For Rosenstiel and Kovach the suspension of normative professional behaviour is linked to a time when any other reaction would seem forced or out of place. Cronkite’s tears as he read out the news of Kennedy’s death were a case in point – ‘It was simply what it was – a human reaction, difficult to control’ (Rosenstiel & Kovach, 2005). But they also maintain that once journalists have reacted emotionally, they should then compose themselves and address issues of responsibility for how and why things happened. In Rosenstiel and Kovach’s model, journalists should return to the objectivity norm once the news cycle becomes calmer.
Analysis of this crisis in US journalism highlights the inherent contradictions in journalism and what Brent Cunningham, the Managing Editor of the Columbia Journalism Review, called its ‘tortured relationship’ with objectivity and conflicting diktats – be disengaged but have impact; be neutral yet investigative; be fair-minded but have an edge (Cunningham, 2003).
Conclusion
This chapter has attempted to trace how emotion became sidelined during the period in which journalism’s normative rules in the United Kingdom and United States were formulated. Emotion became associated with ‘bad’ or flawed journalism. It was seen as a barrier to rational discourse at a time when journalists were keen to establish their discipline as a profession and to distance themselves from the growing manipulation of public feeling evidenced by propaganda, Public Relations and the products of the Hollywood film industry. The objectivity paradigm became further entrenched through the emergence of journalism schools in the United States and codified as a set of best practices in handbooks. Journalists were still able to inject emotion into their stories by ‘outsourcing’ it to those they interviewed, thus staying true to their code and at the same time engaging readers or viewers. During this period, challenges regularly surfaced but generally failed to dislodge the prevailing norms. The journalism of attachment was brutally shot down as the BBC’s culture of impartiality prevailed. Displays of emotion by news anchors such as Cronkite or emotional news copy in the wake of September 11 were seen as understandable – and human – lapses, with the expectation that the normal rules would quickly reestablish themselves. But with hindsight, September 11, 2001 marked a turning point and normal service was not resumed. The analogue era was coming to an end; user-generated content, which first surfaced in earnest during the Asian tsunami in December 2004, was about to become a routine component of reporting. The next chapter examines how emotion has broken cover and become a mainstay of today’s digital media landscape.
2 Journalism and the Rise of Emotion in a Post-truth Society
Last night it was incredibly busy, there were vigils here, there were vigils at the Eiffel Tower, the Eiffel Tower was lit up in red, white and blue, which I think is a sign of hope [he turns away from the camera, unable to continue] … sorry, so sorry … I will leave it there, there is certainly hope here in Paris.
Graham Satchell, BBC
Overcome by emotion, the BBC’s Graham Satchell broke down live on air as he reported from Paris following the wave of ISIS-inspired terror attacks in November 2015. Satchell was clearly devastated, later saying he was mortified at his behaviour. The incident was reminiscent of that more than 50 years earlier when the US news anchor Walter Cronkite shed a tear on air at President Kennedy’s death. Both men viewed their display of open feelings as a professional lapse, demonstrating just how deeply entrenched the normative values of detachment and emotion free reporting are. Satchell, a seasoned BBC reporter, was doing a live feed on BBC breakfast television and received countless sympathetic comments from professional journalists and the public alike. One of the London news anchors at the other end of the line showed immediate understanding, comforting him on air: ‘Graham, I know it has been a hugely difficult, distressing time for everybody who has been involved in that story in Paris.’ And in the hours that followed, Satchell’s Twitter feed was full of supportive comments, one saying that he had shown a natural, raw human response to an act of barbarism.
The outpouring of sympathy for Satchell from his colleagues illustrated the extent to which the profession of journalism has come to acknowledge the impact of trauma on individual reporters, a topic discussed in detail in Chapter 6. But it was also testimony to how the public’s expectations have changed over the past 50 years. Today’s viewers want the emotion of the story, told through those
