LONDON, England – Around two hours into my job at News International, I realized the respect I earned depended almost entirely on just how urgently I could stride, and how conspicuously my shoes could click to punctuate each step.
By Thursday of my third week, I had carefully honed these skills, and attempted to prove myself with an early morning stride-race to the lifts with Janice (who was supposed to be in New York but had presumably marched across the ocean in her hurry to get here).
“Did you get caught in the shit-storm?” asked Janice.
“What?” I replied, resenting her horribly long legs.
“The shit storm. The front page of The Guardian?” She brandished the newspaper in my face.
“Fuck.” (Swearing gives the impression of a hardened realism, which also earns respect).
Regardless of street credit, “fuck” is the appropriate response when the biggest media scandal in years hits the company where you work. The Guardian story exposed allegations that The News of the World—a News International newspaper—is rife with journalists who illegally tap the phones of thousands of prominent British figures. Journalists tend to stride to and attend the same meetings as politicians, the police, and lawyers, and consequentially figures from every one of these forums are embroiled in the scandal.
Clearly, some authoritative stances were in order, and News International executives would have to strut in a highly self-confident manner to ward off the impact of this story. Throughout the office, men in suits paced the floor and barked firmly into telephones, aggressively cultivating a confident air of authority and pursuing relationships with much-needed allies.
Other newspapers reacted in form and, impressed by News International’s controlled appearance, rushed to make the appropriately respectful comments in their respective publications. Many newspapers reported The Guardian allegations discreetly within their innermost pages, and reserved the front page for a sensational swine flu story. After all, newspaper executives must all stride in unison.
These confident auras of authority seem at first to have impact, but they’re wearing thin amongst the British public. This year, we’ve discovered the greed of our financial sector, the violent tactics of our police, and the corruption of our politicians in a wave of horrific scandals. Now, whispers are circulating about the illegal practices that take place at every newspaper, and even if further allegations aren’t uncovered, the strength of this story could taint the media as a whole. If the fourth estate of British society crumbles, executives will need more than an authoritative strut and reasurring words to appease cynicism. The British public needs substance behind the self-confident guises of its public institutions.
Olivia M. Goldhill ’11, a Crimson editorial writer, is a government concentrator in Kirkland House.
