The Moral Imperative and Freight, Trucks, Shipping and All That

Here’s a fact that has the Captain running up the crossbones and opening up the gun ports.

I’ve touched on the subject of the gentlemen of the Press on a couple of occasions when writing this rant. And yes, I know it’s not the freight press who are the main culprits, but we’re all complicit so let’s have a few things out in the open.

When the Handy Shipping Guide started to take shape some years ago we all knew that the News was an integral part of what we wanted to achieve. Freight and shipping publications have traditionally been the most yawnsome of enterprises, written (and read) mostly by geeks who had too much time on their hands.

Yes, you wanted to know about the bits that affected you and the work you were involved in, but the rest of it? Zzzzzzz….

So we set out, bright eyed, bushy tailed young*  things, morally impervious to the corrupt influences of the commercial world.

*(Editors note. What are you on now? Young? There’s a limit to artistic licence you know)

We would be journalistic pioneers, cutting our sanctimonious swathe through the politically incorrect streets of the fourth estate.

No, what's getting my goat is the duplicity arising from personal and corporate bias plus the weighting of articles and editorials to suit the views of owners and publishers.

And that’s where my own dilemma arises. It’s easy to criticise this moral turpitude in others but somehow much less admissible when it applies to oneself. Of course freight journalism doesn’t engender the same level of general interest as, say, current affairs, but it is still vulnerable to corruption.

Although the worst of the press has, and very much still does, try to influence affairs in the world outside, politics etc. and this hardly applies to our tiny corner it is still possible to spin a story to suit a regular advertiser or omit an important piece to favour a client being courted.

Yet now we sit slumped against the wall of moral despair, heads in hands, facing the car park of grim reality, outside the Tesco’s of corruptibility, the discarded receipts of vested interest blowing aimlessly around in the empty shopping carts of decency**

** (Editors Note 2. Isn’t that a Bob Dylan lyric? He really has lost it now – That parrots demise has turned his mind.)

For those of you who have actually managed to read thus far I’d best explain what the Hell I’m on about.
It’s the press in general who have always tended to annoy me.

Mr Murdoch’s crew in particular almost always tend to make me feel queasy as I blame that gentleman for much of the appalling standards accepted today as “journalism”.
In his defence there are things which have changed for the better in the press because of his involvement, but generally I believe his influence has been detrimental, nay disastrous.

All the usual old chestnuts are still valid arguments against Rupert, News Corp. and their ilk. We now are expected to pay to watch sports that we traditionally watched free, moral standards have declined alarmingly in line with reprehensible newspaper advertising, literacy is rapidly becoming a joke.

The latest outburst from Rupe’s spawn Jamie against the BBC reminded me of a spoilt child showing off in the supermarket. Jim wants to stifle the Beeb so that he can start invoicing you for the news.
God forbid that the morally bankrupt Muppets who run the UK (or most of it) fall for that one.

The Beeb ain’t perfect, but it’s a damn sight more important than the Murdoch’s and their ilk.

Which brings me back to that mea culpa I was just starting.
Look at it this way. If you read about the recent English Ashes victory in the UK I bet the coverage was a damn sight different to that back in Oz.
Press don’t just tell stories, they include what their readers want. Unfortunately that means censorship, not in the usual sense, but a selective choice of facts and how to present them.

I wonder what the Tripoli Gleaner or its equivalent thinks about Mr al-Megrahi’s situation, not the same as the Sun I’m willing to bet.

I read the other day how Fabio Capello, Italian born manager of the England football team was undoubtedly the best thing since Ploughman’s lunches had to be made with doorstops.
As they’d just qualified for the World Cup, that could be deemed as predictable.

Thing is, the guy writing the piece has form when it comes to Mr Capello (God bless him) and his lineage. When first appointed manager, poor old Fabio, together with the F.A., had to take an incessant torrent of abuse from this particular writer who seemed to consider it immoral and unthinkable that anyone who didn’t speak English perfectly, and hail from within 200 miles of Rugby could be allowed access to the hallowed dressing room, let alone pick the team.

Now although mention was made of the author’s former hostility the low key retraction in no way compensated for the undiluted vitriol which formed the basis of his original pieces.

A case of writing what you think your audience wants to hear or read. Here’s a good example of misdirection by two sides of an argument – you don’t have to watch it all to get the drift.

And that’s where my own dilemma arises.

It’s easy to criticise this moral turpitude in others but somehow much less admissible when it applies to oneself. Of course freight journalism doesn’t engender the same level of general interest as, say, current affairs, but it is still vulnerable to corruption.

Although the worst of the press has, and very much still does, try to influence affairs in the world outside, politics etc. and this hardly applies to our tiny corner it is still possible to spin a story to suit a favourite advertiser or omit an important piece to favour a client being courted.

So I refer you back to a featured tip of the week in HSG a few weeks ago, read and enjoy, but always question – in the meantime we’ll try to play it straight – honest.

Comments

[Ben Shingleton]

Publishing = Advertising = Agenda. We need to keep the dear old Beeb, the unusual payment model affords it real journalistic freedom. Yeah, it's not perfect, but, it's ours.