were trapped, and shot at close range. Until this point, the dominant news media, without exception and like well-behaved sheep, had dutifully reported the account provided by government and police spokespersons, which painted the massacre as an unfortunate accident. Marinovich’s article cracked that facade wide open.
The Marikana massacre subsequently initiated a period of scrutiny aimed at the news media’s poor performance (Reid 2012). Duncan (2012) performed a content analysis of 153 articles published in mainstream newspapers (Business Day, The Star, New Age, The Citizen, The Times, Sowetan, Beeld, Die Burger and Mail & Guardian) between 13 and 22 August 2012. In particular, Duncan analysed the sources consulted by journalists in the run-up to and the immediate aftermath of the massacre. She revealed that miners were used as sources for information in only 3 per cent of the news articles sampled. This is astonishing, since it was only the miners themselves who could provide first-hand eyewitness accounts to the police actions. Nonetheless, the majority of sources of information consulted by news outlets were business (27 per cent), mine management/owners (14 per cent), political parties (10 per cent), government (9 per cent) and the SAPS (5 per cent).
Duncan (2012) says:
Of the 3 percent of miners who were interviewed … only one worker was quoted speaking about what actually happened during the massacre, and he said the police shot first. Most miners were interviewed in relation to the stories alleging that the miners had used muti [traditional medicine] to defend themselves against the police’s bullets, as well as the miners’ working and living conditions. So in other words, of all 153 articles, only one showed any attempt by a journalist to obtain an account from a worker about their version of events. There is scant evidence of journalists having asked the miners the simplest and most basic of questions, namely ‘what happened’?
The findings of Duncan’s (2012) study highlight two central aspects in respect of the news media’s iteration of voice(s). Firstly, where the people who are most directly impacted by events are not consulted, crucial information is often missed, thus devaluing the accuracy of journalistic reporting. Rule number one: talk to the people who were actually there, even if they are poor. Secondly, and central to the practice of meaningful listening encompassing a respect for the dignity of voice(s), journalists not only need to interview the people concerned, but also actually listen to them. For journalists, talking to people on the ground should not amount to a mere tick-the-box exercise. Had journalists really listened to the scant few miners they did interview in the wake of the Marikana massacre, they would have heard detailed narratives that would have provided them with more information about events than simply the types of muti used as protection from bullets.
Of course, this lack of listening is not a characteristic that is unique to the South African dominant media, but occurs all over the world. On this, Penny O’Donnell (2009: 505) states the following: ‘There is no doubt that Journalism 1.0 has a poor track record in reporting experiences of social marginalisation; the social groups most commonly absent or spoken for by the media include poor women, Indigenous people, migrants who do not speak the official common language, and young people.’
MOTIVATION FOR THIS BOOK
So, why did we write this book? As mentioned, many recent research projects provide evidence of the news media’s habitual misrepresentation or non-representation of the voice(s) belonging to the largest segment of the country’s population, the marginalised and poor. Conversely, the news media is disproportionately dominated by narratives that serve the interests of, speak to and speak about the small segments of the population that retain political, social and economic power (see, for example, Berger 2003; Duncan 2012; Friedman 2011; Garman and Malila 2017; Malila 2013, 2014; Malila and Garman 2016; Reid 2012; Wasserman 2013, 2017; Wasserman, Chuma and Bosch 2016).
The amount of literature providing evidence-based research that presents the earlier or similar findings is steadily growing. The dominant news media does a poor job of reporting grassroots and ordinary citizens’ voice(s), and researchers have proved it. However, the majority of research projects that tackle this problem do not do two important but crucial things. The first of these is that the researchers who critique the news media’s lack of engagement with voice(s) do not do precisely what they insist journalists ought to do. That is, researchers most often do not engage with the very people for whom they claim to speak. The largest body of research literature here relies on various types of media content analysis as a measure to demonstrate the lack of adequately represented voice(s) in news reportage. However, apart from a select few exceptions, most researchers do not themselves engage with or listen to the persons whom they claim the media misrepresents. Recent exceptions to this include Duncan (2016), Malila (2017) and Wasserman, Bosch and Chuma (2018).
Secondly, most of the literature on the news media’s behaviour towards voice(s) provides critique only but does not attempt to provide alternative ways of doing things, nor suggest practical ways in which to change the way we make news. Critique is important. But it is also important to follow through with explorations of how things can be done differently, to change things for the better.
This book attempts to fill both of the gaps highlighted above. First, we set out to actively participate in a thorough process of listening, with a deep respect for the dignity of voice(s). We did this because we do not believe that we can encourage journalists to do so if we are not committed to doing so ourselves. We also did this as a means of demonstration. Quite simply, we wanted to show that it can be done. Secondly, we did not write this book only to complain about the news media’s behaviour, but also to offer suggested recommendations for how to encourage a more participative practice of listening among journalists, in the interest of democratising the media sphere. Only once we understand the machinations of dominant media behaviour and how these negatively impact the inclusion of voice(s), can we begin to explore alternative methods to traditional, dominant news production.
METHODOLOGY AND SUMMARY OF CHAPTERS
The methodology for this book involved various avenues, focusing primarily on a set of in-depth interviews, a large-scale media content analysis and a survey of relevant related research. The book presents three case studies/stories, which capture a representational cross-section of struggle narratives from poor communities in both rural and urban post-1994 South Africa. Each of these case studies encompasses differing but crucial historical, geographical and socio-political ‘characteristics’ of the post-1994 period.
Those characteristics include, but are not wholly limited to, issues of:
•land – its ownership/distribution, usage and associated relations of production;
•basic services (such as water, electricity, education, health care, housing) – availability, affordability and provision;
•social and productive relationships with/involving the state and the private sector, inclusive of corruption and undemocratic practice;
•the levels, content and history of political and social activism – both in respect of organisations and collectives established in communities and active in various struggles and vis-à-vis the dominant broader political trends and party politics; and
•geographical location and ethnographic make-up.
Underlying all of these is the larger issue of the ways in which the developmental experiences of each specific community and the struggles in which it has engaged have been shaped by the dominant (macro) post-1994 political economy of South Africa, inclusive of the news media terrain.
Glebelands is the largest hostel community in South Africa, situated in Umlazi, South Durban. Over the last decade, in particular, Glebelands has experienced intense and violent struggles (including over 160 murders or assassinations since April 2014) centred on political and ethnic mobilisation, control of accommodation, and
