The Trauma Beat: A Case for Re-Thinking the Business of Bad News
I didn’t know Tamara Cherry when she took the stage and presented based on her book, The Trauma Beat: A Case for Re-Thinking the Business of Bad News. She has an impressive pedigree in journalism in Canada, and her years of trauma journalism eventually led to a change in her life. The cumulative trauma of reporting day-after-day took a toll on her, and she realized how sorely needed training and coaching around trauma is. Journalists are taught the tools of the trade – but rarely are they given even a token introduction to either of her two main thrusts. First, in the push for the story, journalists sometimes inflict more harm on the victims of trauma – and that has to stop. Second, journalists aren’t taught the techniques that can help them better process the trauma they experience – so that it doesn’t build up and take a cumulative toll.
“All I Could Hear Was Camera Clicks”
When Tamara went back to understand the impact that journalists had on the people they were reporting on, she found a complex story of both hurt and help. Quotes like, “All I could hear was camera clicks,” are just one of many ways that victims reported the problems that journalists caused – on top of the trauma that brought the journalists in the first place. Somehow, the victims were more focused on the media than their own grief.
It’s not totally surprising given the competition to be first to get the story. After all, any idiot with an iPhone can get a scoop and post it on social media. The rules changed since the days when journalists only competed against other journalists. There’s no denying that the newsrooms are skinnier than they used to be, and the push to deliver on the best news first has only intensified.
The problem is that editors are measured on ratings, which come with the juiciest coverage of the story. That causes them to push journalists to find grieving spouses at the bar and interview them over the phone so they can say they got the story first. (This is one of Tamara’s personal stories.) Instead of grieving, they are giving some interview.
Tamara explains that what journalists want is the story. The thing that trauma victims don’t have is a story. They don’t have an organized narrative. We know that from Peter Levine’s work in Trauma and Memory and James Pennebaker’s work in Opening Up. It’s the journalist who shapes the story based on the pieces that the victim manages to share.
More Than a Story
The problem is that in the rush of constant news, sometimes the story gets mangled. Sometimes, “known to police” gets thrown around, and it’s a convenient but incorrect way to attribute the trauma that happened to the victim themselves. Tamara explains that there are many people who are known to police who’ve done nothing wrong. Whether they’re known to police or not, they’ve the victims. It’s not like they brought them on themselves.
It’s a form of blaming the victim, and while the story itself won’t say that it is their own fault they were killed, it may allow you to reach that conclusion on your own. “Known to police” implies they’ve done criminal things that the police haven’t proved. However, Tamara is known to police for her work – as am I. The implication seems weird when it’s applied to a reporter or an educator when the reason for being known to police is professional.
My Loved One Didn’t Matter
One of the other things that Tamara learned in her research is that people often felt like their loved one didn’t matter. Ironically, this happened whether their loved one’s story was covered or not. Consider for a moment that your loved one dies tragically, and it doesn’t even make it to be reported on. It can be deflating, and it can make you feel as if their life didn’t matter to others. Getting some media coverage – particularly if you’re trying to find the perpetrator – can be frustrating.
On the other side, where media coverage is a given, the sense of being used comes up all too often. Here are people in their most vulnerable moments being forced to grieve in public who can leave the interaction feeling as if they’ve been used. The reporter needed the story, and they got it – but the victim is left to live in their trauma.
The truth is that we know premature telling of a story can cause additional harm – yet reporters are doing it every day.
The Bell Tolls for Thee
Earnest Hemmingway wrote the novel For Whom the Bell Tolls with the conclusion that the bell tolls “for thee.” Journalists, first responders, healthcare professionals, and others encounter trauma every day as a part of their job. That trauma builds up inside of these professionals and, if left unprocessed, becomes a burden that they must carry. It’s perhaps one of the reasons why we find that the suicide rate of first responders and other professions with trauma histories occur at higher rates than the general population.
Tamara explains that she’s seen severed body parts. She’s not talking about a horror movie or some fake Hollywood story. She’s talking about being at the scene before all the disturbing things have been removed from public view. She’s offering a glimpse into the things that most people will never see and those things that those who do will never unsee.
Hemmingway, like his father, died by suicide. Hemmingway’s traumas, however, didn’t come from a life of service but more likely from his family. The gun he used to kill himself was the same gun that his father used. It was something that his mother thought that he would want.
Survivor or Expert
When you interact with a journalist, they have a tendency to put you in one of two categories. You’re either a survivor with a story or an expert with an explanation. It’s difficult to see you as both, because they so rarely run into people who are both. When you report on an automobile accident, it’s rare that the victim or the family is an expert in vehicle safety systems. Conversely, there are many experts who have no direct experience.
Suicide prevention is a bit different, but it’s a microcosm. We’ve been asked to deliver survivor stories, and the confusion is palpable as we speak about the work that we’ve done to understand what is driving suicide and what can prevent it. Standing in front of a room of researchers, I mentioned the then 60 suicide-related books that I had read. A leading researcher turned the tables and asked me what I felt like the solutions were – a far cry from the beginning, when they were expecting yet another sad story about a family grieving. He wasn’t a journalist but a curious researcher who was constantly trying to find different perspectives.
Perhaps a better question for journalists to ask themselves is, “What expertise does this person bring to their experience?” It’s an interesting question that might just free the conversation to have both the pain and the perspective that can make a difference.
The Change
In the end, Tamara is calling for two changes. First, she wants journalists to understand the harm that they are causing and learn how to mitigate it. It starts with informed consent to planning follow up with victims, so they know that they’re not forgotten – and their loved ones aren’t as well.
Second, she’s calling for everyone exposed to trauma to examine the cumulative toll that the exposure has on their lives. In doing so, there’s this hope that people will find a way to process their trauma and rid themselves of the burdens that they have surrounding them. It’s a call to do the work on themselves and to care for their peers in ways that leave them less burdened and more alive.
If these two things can happen, it might just change the rhythm of The Trauma Beat.