My Dad’s a journalist at a small-town newspaper. He more or less stumbled into this career, there was no big dream or plan behind all of it. He quit college one exam before his graduation and didn´t really know where to go from there. He always tells me he quit because he was working so much to afford studying in the first place. But I think living in Munich in the 1980s was just taking its toll. Of course, there’s better things to do - or smoke - than going to your 8am lecture on communications. He didn’t really know what he wanted to do but he knew that he was good at telling stories. Words just came easily to him. I´m not going to bore you to death with private facts about how my dad ended up where he is now, I´m sure he´d tell you his whole life story if you´d ask him, well even if you wouldn’t ask. But that´s not the point of this story.
The thing is, during my childhood I would always be amazed by how many different newspapers my dad would have flying around the breakfast table. I did not understand why one person would need so many things to read in the morning. What could possibly be so important? He would sit there lost in those words, words that were telling him stories about places and people, near and far. I did not care much about any places further than our street back then. Back then I swore to myself that I would never be as boring as him as an adult. I would go for a more interesting career than that of a journalist. Maybe go to the circus or become an actress. And that I would never be that person with a daily newspaper subscription. Well, what can I say, of course I read the paper now. Black ink on grey thin paper freshly delivered to my mailbox every morning. I´m realizing now, I´ve grown up to become a believer in the power of words too. And first I couldn’t understand how I got there.
But I understand now, I understand it every time someone asks me why I would want to become a journalist during “these” times. Why don’t you go into politics if you so desperately want to take a stance, they ask me. Will you be able to stay neutral about issues if you´re so passionate about them? You won´t be able to change anything. And anyways, aren´t journalists just failed authors who are frustrated because they couldn’t make it.
People cry for objectivity whenever they don´t like what they read or see. The myth of objectivity in journalism is only that, a myth. Do we really think that something produced by human beings can ever be unbiased? Are we not just perceiving something as being more neutral whenever its closest to what we personally believe in? The question is not if journalists should stay out of personal politics. My understanding of journalism is not neutral fact checking. It´s looking into issues that people can´t see otherwise. It´s shedding light onto injustices happening right before our eyes but we decide to ignore them because they don’t affect us enough. It´s about giving a voice to people otherwise not heard or silenced. Journalists cannot and should not be the knights in shining armor coming to the rescue. If you´re in this for awards and glory than you´ve made the wrong choice. Journalists can have the power to shape opinions but not force them onto people. The power to tell hidden stories. The power to question social and political dynamics. The power to broaden perspectives. The power to provoke social change. Don’t get me wrong. Journalists sometimes abuse this power. They can be corrupt. They can be liars. They can help propaganda on their way. They can overstep lines. We´ve all seen this happening. But they can also build a bridge between people. A bridge of words. A bridge of knowledge. And that is why I believe in the power of words.
Anna Laura Müller
