AUSTRALIA
Daily Telegraph
Angela Mollard
There’s a scene in the Oscar-winning movie Spotlight where all the pieces of the puzzle come together. For months the reporters on the Boston Globe have been investigating sexual abuse by priests but the “light bulb” moment occurs when they realise that offending priests are listed in the diocese’s annual directory as “unassigned” or “on leave”.
And so, using rulers and pens, the team goes painstakingly through years of directories, underlining the names of priests who have taken leave of their parishes. They enter the information on a spreadsheet and what was originally believed to be six priests suddenly appears to be 87.
If you’re a journalist watching that moment there’s both recognition and regret: recognition of the meticulous, mind-numbing work but, more potently, regret that investigative journalism is now as endangered as the many institutions it has exposed.
Journalists loathe writing about journalism. We focus on what we produce, not how we produce it. We’re notoriously secret squirrels scrabbling around scrutinising and elucidating on every industry but our own. Even our awards nights are an uncomfortable showcase of bad dressing and neuroticism.
But sometimes we need to turn the pen on ourselves, to advocate, campaign or simply be a journal of record for what’s happening in our world. Sometimes there needs to be a story about the storytellers.
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