TOO MUCH NEWS IS BAD NEWS
The media: Paul Johnson
on the strains imposed by a multitude of crises
THIS has been one of the best years for news since 1945 (1956 was another good one) and shows no sign of running out of steam: quite the reverse. Many predicted that, after the tremendous quantity of really important news from Eastern Europe in 1989, this year would be flat. Not so: what has happened is that the democractic revolution has simply spread from the satellites to Moscow, so what we are watching in Russia is the crumbling of the world's first totalitarian state and poss- ibly of the Russian empire too. That has brought a dramatic change in the rela- tionships between the two superpowers and a huge improvement in overall security in the world. Had Iraq's invasion of Kuwait occurred before perestroika really got going, it might easily have slipped into a world crisis, as nearly happened in 1956 and 1973, with George Bush not quite knowing what to do, the Iraqis roaming along the Gulf knocking down ninepins, Moscow silent or menacing, and the Amer- icans eventually, in exasperation, over- reacting. As it was, Bush was able to discuss the problem sensibly with Mikhail Gorbachev right from the start, so what we have is a regional crisis, not a global one.
All the same, the Iraqi invasion and the subsequent looting of Kuwait is one of the most sinister and evil events of modern times. George Bush and Margaret Thatch- er have been right to organise the civilised world into a strong reaction which, whatev- er happens, will ensure that this act of aggression is punished in such a way as to deter other international villains. Equally, the media has been right to give it the maximum possible coverage. But then we come to the problem: which news has priority? The amount of news happening in the world can expand indefinitely. The number of pages in a newspaper, the amount of airtime available for television news bulletins, are strictly limited. To some extent, newspapers can put on extra pages and television networks squeeze or drop other programmes, but the scope for this is limited and temporary. Within a week or two, however big the crisis, the iron laws of space and time begin to operate again. Then funny things happen. Events become non-events. There have been times during the last six weeks when it has seemed that the developing crisis in the affairs of the Soviet Union — the almost desperate attempts to introduce a market system, the quarrel between the Soviet government and the Russian repub- lic, the erosion of central authority — has simply stopped happening. In fact it has been going on all the time, indeed become more serious. But the sheer volume of news from the Middle East has crowded it out of the headlines and off the television screens. Now, while the military build-up in the Middle East continues, and the prospect of war draws nearer, there is a pause in the daily surge of dramatic events there, so suddenly we have Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin popping up again, still arguing. In the meantime the Russian economy continues to nose-dive, the Kremlin's orders are not obeyed — it is a bit like 1917 in some ways — there is talk of a military takeover and the Prime Minister refers to the possibility that the Soviet Union will simply disintegrate. News organisations have never had to cope with the collapse of a superpower before. There are no real precedents. How do they do it — especially with a Middle-Eastern war about to explode as well?
Nor is this all. While the world has focused its eyes on the Gulf, yet another huge news story is stealthily emerging: the real and imminent possibility of a world
'Do you have anything for scaly hair?'
recession, the effect of the rise in oil prices being the last straw. In the last few days it has finally made the headlines and people are thinking about it. News operates at different levels of concern. People are warmly interested in the royal family — they are still, it seems, fascinated by that Abdication, 53 years ago! — and they may be passionately concerned about whether Prince Charles's arm is healing properly. But whether it does or not won't effect them. Again, watching the troops and planes lining up in the Middle East is rather like seeing a movie: apart from the comparatively small number of people whose families are involved, as hostages or combatants, it isn't real. We watch events in Moscow like a play by a politicised Chekhov: bizarre, fascinating, nothing really to do with us. A recession, the possibility of a slump — the first since the 1930s — is quite a different matter. There comes a point when the frantic shouting on the money markets and stock exchanges suddenly ceases to be a remote soap opera and hits home. Firms go bankrupt. People are laid off. Those who owe you money can't pay. Those you owe money to sud- denly demand it. One minute you lose your job. The next you may lose your home too. In a world where everyone under 50 has been brought up to borrow all the time, a recession can come as a big, personal shock, news that matters. In wars only about 10 per cent of the population are directly involved. In a slump the propor- tion can rise to a quarter, even a half. Probably more people were seriously hurt by the years 1929-35 than in the first world war, and the experience led straight to the second.
Can newspapers and networks cope with yet another top-rate crisis this year? It is not just a question of space and time, but of cash. The national newspapers are spending a fortune on their Gulf coverage, having already dug deep to finance squads of reporters in Eastern Europe. The cost of the Gulf to BBC news and ITV is im- mense. To some extent the BBC is pro- tected because it has a fixed income from its own poll tax. But if more and more families, hit by recession, stop renewing their licence fee, that becomes serious too.
The slump in advertising, which affects both newspapers and the ITV companies, is already a fact, not just a projection. The truth is the news-gathering organisations have been overspending their budgets and the money-men are getting censorious. If the Gulf, the Soviet Union and the world economy all blow up at the same time, we shall have what the Leavisites used to call 'value-judgments' in the selection of news.
C. P. Scott laid down the rule: comment is free but facts are sacred. You could put it differently: comment is cheap but facts are expensive. If news continues to arrive at the same relentless rate, more experts will be waffling about it and fewer journalists reporting it from the spot.
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