Born again and anonymous

Born again and anonymous

This journalist argues that to be born again is to be open to ridicule and scorn. As a result, He's "remaining in the closet, anonymous for the purposes of this article. Why? Unfortunately, some of the worst perpetrators of that prejudice and ignorance are fellow journalists."  From the Spring, 1998 issue of Media Magazine, the official publication of the Canadian Association of Journalists I'm a journalist, employed by a major media outlet in a major Canadian city. I've worked in radio, television, and print. I'm also a born-again Christian. Since I believe in the fundamentals of the Christian faith, you might even call me a fundamentalist.

But I am not hate-filled, bigoted, extreme, right wing or violent — and neither are the vast majority of other believers that I know. Nowadays, however, it is still politically correct to be prejudiced against believers, particularly if they are conservative Protestants or Catholics.

As a result, I'm remaining "in the closet", anonymous for the purposes of this article. Why? Unfortunately, some of the worst perpetrators of that prejudice and ignorance are fellow journalists.

There's another reason why I choose to remain anonymous. When you work in a newsroom, one of the first things that becomes clear is that no one is supposed to have an agenda. We're all supposed to be "objective." So, if you come on too strong as an environmentalist, or gay rights advocate, or Zionist, or radical feminist, or pro-lifer, you immediately lose credibility as a professional. I think that's appropriate. You are expected to set aside pet projects and personal passions when you do your job. We are to be all things to all people so that anyone on any side of any controversy will feel free to talk openly with us, and trust us to be fair.

What often happens in newsrooms, however, is that "objectivity" is a fiction that's frequently just the product of birds of a feather flocking together mind set. It's really like-mindedness. The vaunted objectivity is merely tacitly shared a priori assumptions.

Studies show that most journalists in North America are overwhelmingly secular; that certainly has been my experience. Journalists may attend church once and a while on holidays; some even have their kids baptized. But they see it as a cultural activity, a bit of hocus pocus that no rational, educated person could possibly take seriously. A subtle group-think takes over that reinforces itself because the old birds feel most comfortable with like birds who have the same prism for viewing reality. That prism is most often middle-class, secular, and centrist. This group-think usually translates into apathy about faith issues, unless they involve sex or scandal. Many journalists assume that because spiritual topics are a big yawn for them, readers, listeners and viewers are equally disinterested.

Sometimes those who participate in this group-think resent being challenged. Sometimes the most intolerant people are the ones who believe truth is relative, yet they assume those who believe in absolute truth are incapable of being tolerant. Thankfully, many journalists welcome the odd voice crying in the wilderness. They genuinely love ideas, and love to be challenged. As long as the person of faith restricts this challenging to the story meeting and maintains fairness in the finished product, contrarian voices are welcomed.

However, there is a small minority who are actively hostile to believers. They assume that if you say there is absolute truth that you want to stuff your ideas down everyone's throat. They assume that if you believe there is such a thing as sin, you want to force your morality on others. They believe that you can't possibly be trusted to be "objective", like they are. They assume you have an agenda merely because they know your religious label. However, what emerges as their understanding of Christianity is garbled, twisted, and wholly inaccurate. And usually this garbled, twisted view is expressed with hostility and irrationality.

As a result, those of us who are public about our faith keep our heads down (I don't think I've ever seen a cross, a turban or a yarmulke in a newsroom). We hear the derision, the nasty remarks, the contempt towards those who are public about faith and quietly go about doing our jobs. Speaking up about these things runs you the risk of being viewed as "having an agenda", something that is fatal to a journalistic career (unless you hope to become a columnist or a talk show host). When we do meet other journalists of faith, we share horror stories. We prefer to be like yeast permeating the loaf in a subtle way, letting our Christian witness come through our behavior and our professionalism, rather than through public profession.

Most of all, though, we face tremendous ignorance. I remember seeing a journalist write in a first-rate newspaper that the Psalms are in the New Testament. How many of you picked up on the biblical references in the paragraphs above? Many journalists just do not know the founding story of Western civilization. They do not know the Bible. They don't know church history. Consequently, they do not know the spiritual foundation of the legal and political history of this nation. How well are we serving our publics if we don't know these subjects well enough to truly know whether and why we disagree with them?

Fortunately, the climate for a discussion of these issues is slowly improving, and — dare I say this? — I thank Conrad Black for that. Now some of the Southam Papers are showing signs of taking faith and ideas seriously. The upcoming Faith and the Media Conference in Ottawa in June is another sign. But until more people of faith permeate the news media, and are sought out and welcomed by the editors and senior producers, faith groups can expect that the mainstream media will either trivialize, dismiss or sensationalize their stories.

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