My Feet Are Not Small

This is Rahman.

If he looks familiar, perhaps it's because you saw him on a "WANTED" poster. In Pakistan.

Oh? You've not been there recently? Neither has Rahman. But he's the opposite of a criminal.

Rahman Bunairee sat next to me in digital audio editing class for several days this past week at Voice of America. (This is probably one of the coolest aspects of working at VOA. You never quite know who is around the corner.)

The first day when I came in, he told me his name and said "Maybe you've heard of me?" I said "Um, no."

He said "My house was blown up in Pakistan."

Yes, yes, we've all had accidents with the blow dryer and a tub of water. Bad times with a toaster and a butter knife. Life is difficult and confusing, isn't it?

Television reporters are known for sensitivity and tact at such moments, as we all know, right?

"Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry that happened to you, but can you tell me exactly what you felt at the moment that you heard your family's home and all its contents had been utterly laid waste by an explosive device made specifically in the hope of killing... YOU?"

I promise, I didn't say that. But you thought it was a distinct possibility, didn't you? We're all friends. You can admit it. I can take it.

It took me a bit, but I soon began to have a vague, rather nagging memory... a distant bell tinkling in the back of my mind that let me know I could dig in the far, dimly lit recesses of my mind for the details of what I read on a couple of in-house emails and in the Washington Post.

Rahman was working as a Voice of America journalist in Pakistan. Technically, he was the bureau chief for another television group and did a little work for VOA on the side until after he received a few death threats and his family's house was blown up by the Taliban.

Well, that happened to me one time when I... er, no. Never.

Fortunately, neither he nor any of his family were at home at the time that the bomb detonated. The U.S. government immediately brought him to Washington, DC to work and resettle his life as best they could. Not so far, so great, right? But maybe things were looking up.

Maybe, except for on arrival, Rahman was taken into custody by federal officers on charges of being a terrorist. Well, not really. They just said that his reason for being in this country was something more than stated on the visa. The visa that the government procured for him.

In journalism, we call that "adding insult to injury."

After a couple of very public statements by someone a lot higher than me at VOA, Rahman was released to restart his life in the United States.

I learned a lot in computer class.

I learned that it's very nice to sit next to the cool guys when in a learning situation. That way, the extraneous lessons in humility are a bit more concentrated.

What If?

What if the Internet suddenly stopped giving away free news? With so many people saying lately that they "get their news off the Internet," I wonder what would happen if the Internet stopped giving away the milk and instead made people start buying the cow?

I don't mean what would happen to people or society as a whole. I think we might scratch our heads for a moment, then pick up the phone and call back the few remaining people at newspapers' subscription departments and order up the "special." (Trust me. The subscription departments at your local paper are standing by, ready and waiting, with subscription specials anytime you call. Try it and see.)

I'm not suggesting that this will happen tomorrow. It would take some major doing because it would have to start with the wire services and go all the way down. No more freebies on information and intellectual property.

Those wire services, like Associated Press, Reuters, and United Press International, would all have to change their working agreements with groups to outlaw the posting of their reporting on the Internet. Since every major news organization in the world uses these wire services as the backbone of their product, this would shut down the Internet as a source of information, except in return for money. Which since the services pay their employees, is really how it should be, isn't it?

And all of the "stories" online? Most of those "news stories" that people would still see for free would suddenly be viewed as what they are: bloggers, babblers, pundits, and intellectual property thieves.

All of the real news therefore, would then be either distributed by television, radio, or in those quaint things called newspapers. Sure, the newspapers would go back to being the slowest of the medias, but they'd still retain their journalistic integrity by virtue of providing the most in-depth news coverage. And yeah, they'd have subscribers again. They might even hire back a few reporters.

Televisions and radio stations would gain viewers back, because well, yes, you'd have to get your news from one of the several legitimate sources, so they'd be back in demand.

It's an old school style approach. And it would require some allowances by the government. We'd have to invite the Federal Communications Commission and the Federal Trade Commission to the meetings where such an agreement was negotiated because that might prevent us all from being dragged into court for an anti-trust case.

But there would be no "price fixing." Journalists have rarely agreed on anything (a more snarling, snapping dog-filled pack you've never seen) so how could they or even their bean-counters fix a price? But just to keep it all honest, as we work to restore the business model, it might be acceptable to have government approval.

And websites? Sure, we'd keep those. Why not post the freebie information, advertisements, a few teases to the real stories (available in the morning paper or evening newscasts) reporters and talent bios and emails. But generally, after a few details on the web, we let everyone go back to reporting things other than the latest demise of a venerated newspaper?

I put this question to someone in management at one of my current media clients. He said he thinks it's too late. He said he thought that newspapers and other media outlets had rushed onto the Internet years ago, without giving serious thought to what it would mean long-term and now the momentum was against them. The industry is "hemorrhaging without end."

But I wonder at that analogy and suggested he look at it in a different way:

"If you slit your wrists, you are allowed to go to the hospital."

Maybe it's time to do that. Maybe it's time to check in before we all check out.

It Runs in the Family...

I have a lovely niece who likes to write. Don't you think she's lovely? (She hasn't told me, but I'm pretty sure that's exactly the face she makes during most of our conversations. Hmmmm.) She's just published her first article in the hometown paper in the tiny little Western village where she lives. (I drove through there several weeks ago. Trust me; it's a village.) Here's a link to the newspaper's site and article. http://www.hurricanetimes.com/article.cfm?articleID=18206

She sent it to me first, along with a note pleading with me to be gentle on her beginning writer feelings, all tender and new and dewy. "Blah blah blah...tender. Blah blah blah... please don't pick on me blah blah... too much."

In the true spirit of the season, I thought "Bah humbug, kid! Get used to it."

I went on to suggest all kinds of changes, additional punctuation, explanations of various terms and names that would be needed even if only the 27 families and their various scarecrows did all read it. ("What is a 'Lin tree'? Is that a new species of fur?" "Who are the ladies of the Desert Rouge Hattitudes? Is that a group of overly made up hat-wearing grannies? What does that mean?") Oh my goodness, you would have thought I had said her writing was total poo and that Auntie no longer loved or would share funnies on youtube with niece-ums.

A day later and it was my turn. I was preparing for a meeting to discuss internet and social network marketing proposals with a group that I'm interested in working for, and I turned to nicey-nice-Niece and said "Would you mind taking a look at this for me?"

I have to admit genuine pride in Ms. Nicey-nice at this moment. She's so humble and probably a lot nicer than her Auntie. (Or was she being facetious? There's apparently a wild streak of that in the family, somewhere...) She said "Oh, you want me to look at it?"

I have tried to explain to her in the past that professional writing is an extremely collaborative kind of thing. Journalists often ask for their editor's eyes on what they are working on. Or they turn to a trusted colleague and ask which turn of a phrase they prefer. Egos are nice things, but they generally cost too much for my backpocket. I'd rather be right on the facts and on the writing.

So my Ms. Niece-let read my report. She gave it a thorough going-over, too. And returned it back to me with changes made in the best possible way. (A microsoft document software that I'm still not completely sure I understand, but.. Ms. Nicey-Nice does!)

And I went on my way with a better report. Because Ms. Nicey-Nice Niece who reads occasionally at this spot on the Internet, that's what we do in journalism: we work together. We collaborate. We appreciate along the way. And things get better.