Nick Turse

"Two hundred and eleven journalists are in jail around the world, the second-worst year on record since the Committee to Protect Journalists began its annual census in 1990… Turkey was the world’s leading jailer of journalists for the second year running, closely followed by Iran and China. Altogether, the three countries accounted for more than half of all reporters behind bars in 2013."

If, as seems possible, existing laws against false political claims are rolled back rather than expanded, the media’s role—as both arbiter and factchecker—could become even more central… Political journalists may find that the campaign deceptions that they grappled with throughout the elections are deemed to be protected by the same free speech rights that they depend upon to report. In election seasons to come—and the “permanent campaigns” between them—they should be ready to exercise these rights in abundance to keep the public from being misled.
Justin Peters of Columbia Journalism Review writes, “it still seemed like all you needed to do to be interviewed at the DNC was wear a dumb hat. So yesterday I drove to a Party City way out on the outskirts of the city and bought the dumbest hat I could find—a floppy, bulbous king’s hat in fake red velvet, like something worn by an actor at some cut-rate Medieval Times—and went to the foyer of the Time Warner Center around 9 p.m. to see if I could get interviewed.”
You can probably guess where this is going, but it’s definitely worth a read.  Find it at Stupid hat tricks : CJR

Justin Peters of Columbia Journalism Review writes, “it still seemed like all you needed to do to be interviewed at the DNC was wear a dumb hat. So yesterday I drove to a Party City way out on the outskirts of the city and bought the dumbest hat I could find—a floppy, bulbous king’s hat in fake red velvet, like something worn by an actor at some cut-rate Medieval Times—and went to the foyer of the Time Warner Center around 9 p.m. to see if I could get interviewed.”

You can probably guess where this is going, but it’s definitely worth a read.  Find it at Stupid hat tricks : CJR

newsweek:

Columbia Journalism Review’s July/August cover pays tribute to Newsweek’s 1970 “Women in Revolt” cover.

CJR offers up an enlightening and depressing infographic that puts the golden parachutes of departing CEOs Janet Robinson of The New York Times Company and Craig Dubow of Gannett into perspective. 

CJR offers up an enlightening and depressing infographic that puts the golden parachutes of departing CEOs Janet Robinson of The New York Times Company and Craig Dubow of Gannett into perspective. 

Up until 2005, most of the media—even the liberal media—were thinking, “What can we do to make things work better in Iraq? How can we stop making these mistakes?” They were not questioning the whole enterprise of the war, the invasion, the occupation. That was a disastrous mistake. How many voices came out criticizing the war in 2003-2004? Very few. At the end of 2004 and in 2005, the situation changed and people became critical, up to the point of confessing that the war was a mistake. But from 2003 to 2004, no one said these things. I didn’t say these things. During the first two or three months, when I saw the chaos, the burning, the looting, I thought, “If only the Americans would do so and so, everything would be okay and there wouldn’t be any insurgency.” But by the middle or end of 2003, I started questioning the whole enterprise. By 2004, I had come to the conclusion that it was wrong. But the media in general—CNN and others—kept going with the narrative of “How can we fix the war?” In the first two years, the media must take a huge responsibility for selling the war to the people—to the Americans and the British.

Ghaith Abdul-Ahad, an Iraqi who worked as a translator for The Guardian, a fixer for The New York Times, a correspondent for The Guardian and won a British Press Award as foreign reporter of the year in 2008.

The Accidental Correspondent : CJR

If not for Eric Alterman’s smart new Columbia Journalism Review piece, “The Girl Who Loved Journalists,” I might have been too ashamed to admit that as I watched David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (as with the three previous Swedish film adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy), I spent an inordinate amount of time marveling at the research skills of the “Girl,”  Lisbeth Salander, and the somewhat peripheral issues of journalism that are addressed in the movie.
As Salander unraveled murders in no time flat, I thought back to how long it took me to do the research to expose long-secret massacres and other mass killings of civilians or the number of secret U.S. drone bases or how the Pentagon arms Mid-East despots and sighed more than once.
But it seems I’m not alone in focusing on the journalism. As Alterman astutely observes:

The trilogy’s plot… frequently turns on matters of journalistic propriety of the  kind that are rarely discussed outside badly lit newsroom cafeterias and  gloomy university seminar rooms. We see Mikael and Erica [Berger, Blomkvist’s lover, best friend, and editor] struggle with  love and danger, but also with questions of proper sourcing in a  magazine article versus a book, a little magazine versus a powerful (and  compromised) newspaper. We see the drudgery of research, of  interviewing sources, and building a story one detail at a time; of  trying to figure out who’s lying and why, how to publish what one knows  without giving away what one doesn’t, and then how to manipulate the  numbskullery of television to build the biggest echo chamber possible  for one’s work.

Alterman’s piece is filled with other intelligent observations about the power of money in journalism and how most of us who report don’t have much of it.  I could go on, but you’d be better off reading the whole article here.

If not for Eric Alterman’s smart new Columbia Journalism Review piece, “The Girl Who Loved Journalists,” I might have been too ashamed to admit that as I watched David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (as with the three previous Swedish film adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy), I spent an inordinate amount of time marveling at the research skills of the “Girl,” Lisbeth Salander, and the somewhat peripheral issues of journalism that are addressed in the movie.

As Salander unraveled murders in no time flat, I thought back to how long it took me to do the research to expose long-secret massacres and other mass killings of civilians or the number of secret U.S. drone bases or how the Pentagon arms Mid-East despots and sighed more than once.

But it seems I’m not alone in focusing on the journalism. As Alterman astutely observes:

The trilogy’s plot… frequently turns on matters of journalistic propriety of the kind that are rarely discussed outside badly lit newsroom cafeterias and gloomy university seminar rooms. We see Mikael and Erica [Berger, Blomkvist’s lover, best friend, and editor] struggle with love and danger, but also with questions of proper sourcing in a magazine article versus a book, a little magazine versus a powerful (and compromised) newspaper. We see the drudgery of research, of interviewing sources, and building a story one detail at a time; of trying to figure out who’s lying and why, how to publish what one knows without giving away what one doesn’t, and then how to manipulate the numbskullery of television to build the biggest echo chamber possible for one’s work.

Alterman’s piece is filled with other intelligent observations about the power of money in journalism and how most of us who report don’t have much of it.  I could go on, but you’d be better off reading the whole article here.

    
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (Who Loved Journalists)
If not for Eric Alterman’s smart new Columbia Journalism Review piece, “The Girl Who Loved Journalists,” I might have been too ashamed to admit that as I watched David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (as with the three previous Swedish film adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s   Millennium trilogy), I spent an inordinate amount of time marveling at   the research skills of the “Girl,”  Lisbeth Salander, and the somewhat   peripheral issues of journalism that are addressed in the movie.
As Salander unraveled murders in no time flat, I thought back to how long it took me to do the research to expose long-secret massacres and other mass killings of civilians or the number of secret U.S. drone bases or how the Pentagon arms Mid-East despots and sighed more than once.
But it seems I’m not alone in focusing on the journalism. As Alterman astutely observes:

The trilogy’s plot… frequently turns on matters of journalistic   propriety of the  kind that are rarely discussed outside badly lit   newsroom cafeterias and  gloomy university seminar rooms. We see Mikael   and Erica [Berger, Blomkvist’s lover, best friend, and editor] struggle   with  love and danger, but also with questions of proper sourcing in a    magazine article versus a book, a little magazine versus a powerful  (and   compromised) newspaper. We see the drudgery of research, of    interviewing sources, and building a story one detail at a time; of    trying to figure out who’s lying and why, how to publish what one knows    without giving away what one doesn’t, and then how to manipulate the    numbskullery of television to build the biggest echo chamber possible    for one’s work.

Alterman’s piece is filled with other intelligent observations   about the power of money in journalism and how most of us who report   don’t have much of it.  I could go on, but you’d be better off reading the whole article here.

    The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (Who Loved Journalists)

    If not for Eric Alterman’s smart new Columbia Journalism Review piece, “The Girl Who Loved Journalists,” I might have been too ashamed to admit that as I watched David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (as with the three previous Swedish film adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy), I spent an inordinate amount of time marveling at the research skills of the “Girl,” Lisbeth Salander, and the somewhat peripheral issues of journalism that are addressed in the movie.

    As Salander unraveled murders in no time flat, I thought back to how long it took me to do the research to expose long-secret massacres and other mass killings of civilians or the number of secret U.S. drone bases or how the Pentagon arms Mid-East despots and sighed more than once.

    But it seems I’m not alone in focusing on the journalism. As Alterman astutely observes:

    The trilogy’s plot… frequently turns on matters of journalistic propriety of the kind that are rarely discussed outside badly lit newsroom cafeterias and gloomy university seminar rooms. We see Mikael and Erica [Berger, Blomkvist’s lover, best friend, and editor] struggle with love and danger, but also with questions of proper sourcing in a magazine article versus a book, a little magazine versus a powerful (and compromised) newspaper. We see the drudgery of research, of interviewing sources, and building a story one detail at a time; of trying to figure out who’s lying and why, how to publish what one knows without giving away what one doesn’t, and then how to manipulate the numbskullery of television to build the biggest echo chamber possible for one’s work.

    Alterman’s piece is filled with other intelligent observations about the power of money in journalism and how most of us who report don’t have much of it.  I could go on, but you’d be better off reading the whole article here.

    
If not for Eric Alterman’s smart new Columbia Journalism Review piece, “The Girl Who Loved Journalists,” I might have been too ashamed to admit that as I watched David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (as with the three previous Swedish film adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s  Millennium trilogy), I spent an inordinate amount of time marveling at  the research skills of the “Girl,”  Lisbeth Salander, and the somewhat  peripheral issues of journalism that are addressed in the movie.
As Salander unraveled murders in no time flat, I thought back to how long it took me to do the research to expose long-secret massacres and other mass killings of civilians or the number of secret U.S. drone bases or how the Pentagon arms Mid-East despots and sighed more than once.
But it seems I’m not alone in focusing on the journalism. As Alterman astutely observes:
The trilogy’s plot… frequently turns on matters of journalistic  propriety of the  kind that are rarely discussed outside badly lit  newsroom cafeterias and  gloomy university seminar rooms. We see Mikael  and Erica [Berger, Blomkvist’s lover, best friend, and editor] struggle  with  love and danger, but also with questions of proper sourcing in a   magazine article versus a book, a little magazine versus a powerful (and   compromised) newspaper. We see the drudgery of research, of   interviewing sources, and building a story one detail at a time; of   trying to figure out who’s lying and why, how to publish what one knows   without giving away what one doesn’t, and then how to manipulate the   numbskullery of television to build the biggest echo chamber possible   for one’s work.
Alterman’s piece is filled with other intelligent observations  about the power of money in journalism and how most of us who report  don’t have much of it.  I could go on, but you’d be better off reading the whole article here.

    If not for Eric Alterman’s smart new Columbia Journalism Review piece, “The Girl Who Loved Journalists,” I might have been too ashamed to admit that as I watched David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (as with the three previous Swedish film adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy), I spent an inordinate amount of time marveling at the research skills of the “Girl,” Lisbeth Salander, and the somewhat peripheral issues of journalism that are addressed in the movie.

    As Salander unraveled murders in no time flat, I thought back to how long it took me to do the research to expose long-secret massacres and other mass killings of civilians or the number of secret U.S. drone bases or how the Pentagon arms Mid-East despots and sighed more than once.

    But it seems I’m not alone in focusing on the journalism. As Alterman astutely observes:

    • The trilogy’s plot… frequently turns on matters of journalistic propriety of the kind that are rarely discussed outside badly lit newsroom cafeterias and gloomy university seminar rooms. We see Mikael and Erica [Berger, Blomkvist’s lover, best friend, and editor] struggle with love and danger, but also with questions of proper sourcing in a magazine article versus a book, a little magazine versus a powerful (and compromised) newspaper. We see the drudgery of research, of interviewing sources, and building a story one detail at a time; of trying to figure out who’s lying and why, how to publish what one knows without giving away what one doesn’t, and then how to manipulate the numbskullery of television to build the biggest echo chamber possible for one’s work.

    Alterman’s piece is filled with other intelligent observations about the power of money in journalism and how most of us who report don’t have much of it.  I could go on, but you’d be better off reading the whole article here.