Schadenfreude – The Johann Hari Edition

June 29, 2011

There may be some amongst you who recall a piece of execrable weekend journalism by Johann Hari entitled ‘The Dark Side of Dubai’. It was published in the Independent in 2009 and caused something of a furore in the UAE blogosphere. Most Dubai-based writers accepted that there were (and are) undeniably a lot of problems with Dubai that deserved to be reported on, and that Hari is a very effective writer, if polemic or propaganda are your cup of tea. However, Hari’s article was deeply flawed as a piece of journalism: lacking balance or perspective and filled with jarring stylistic flourishes, sensationalist hyperbole and rhetorical tropes.*

As well as these flaws, a number of Dubai-based bloggers and writers also observed that Hari’s piece contained a number of implausible anecdotes, conveniently apt quotations and exaggerations. Few people were willing to suggest outright fabrication given Hari’s status in the world of journalism, but nagging doubts have stayed with me since then. I am therefore very glad to see that Hari has been caught out recently over his use of quotations and is now facing some very awkward questions over his journalistic conduct.**

I am fully supportive of free speech and the media’s right to investigate; there is certainly plenty about Dubai that can and should be written about. However, if a journalist can actually be bothered, there is more than enough interesting subject matter out there without having to resort to lazy caricature, sensationalism and outright fabrication. It is a pretty damning indictment of the journalistic profession that there have been some journalists lining up to defend Hari’s transgressions and that his rhetorical style has been rewarded with the Orwell Prize for Journalism, particularly given Orwell’s own attitude to language (my emphases):

The inflated style itself is a kind of euphemism. A mass of Latin words falls upon the facts like soft snow, blurring the outline and covering up all the details. The great enemy of clear language is insincerity. When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink.

[…]

Political language — and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists — is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. One cannot change this all in a moment, but one can at least change one’s own habits, and from time to time one can even, if one jeers loudly enough, send some worn-out and useless phrase — some jackboot, Achilles’ heel, hotbed, melting pot, acid test, veritable inferno, or other lump of verbal refuse — into the dustbin, where it belongs.

Hari has sought to defend his practice but the fact remains that he has been caught out presenting a false picture to his readers to achieve a rhetorical aim. By presenting these quotes with his own dramatised context and tone, he has shown a disregard for accuracy and truth that calls into question the convenient anecdotes and quotes he has previously presented as fact. The only reason that he has been caught out in this instance is because the quotations have been from famous or prominent individuals: he can be even more cavalier with quotes and events that are below the radar and impossible to properly verify.

I am reminded of something Albert Einstein once said to me, as we had lunch together at a charming Bistro in Penge. He put down his glass of Merlot, fixed me with his gaze and said: “Anyone who doesn’t take truth seriously in small matters cannot be trusted in large ones either”.

* – Brilliantly parodied and dissected by Chris Saul.

** – Links galore as follows: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.


The Federal Ministry

June 24, 2011

With documents all ready I arrive;

A licence is the thing for which I strive.

I’m sent to wait at counter number three.

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

I queue with hope still stirring but I find,

Another piece of paper must be signed,

For which another man I have to see.

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

The man in question proves a tad elusive:

His desk sat in a corner most reclusive.

He looks me up and down quite critically:

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

His manner cannot be described as warm,

Eventually he deigns to sign my form,

For this I must agree to pay a fee.

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

The cashier’s desk is where I must go next.

So off I slowly trudge a trifle vexed.

This is no place to find efficiency.

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

Apparently a stamp is also needed;

Had I really thought that I’d succeeded?

A slave to bureaucratic tyranny -

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

I’m told to visit counter number two:

Forced to join another lengthy queue.

The clerk is playing with his Blackberry.

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

The line is one of crushed and broken spirits

Our patience has been pushed beyond its limits.

We’re baffled by this strange reality.

I’m visiting the Federal Ministry.

-

Bureaucracy at last begins to work

I quickly grab the licence from the clerk

I cling to shreds of tattered dignity

I’m exiting the Federal Ministry.


Rubberneckers

June 21, 2011

Rubberneckers

I

There’s gridlock where the traffic freely flowed

The cause: an idle hubcap by the road

A clear non-event; completely mundane

That yet still causes necks to crane

 II

Whether prang or crash or minor collision

These ghoulish spectators earn our derision

Beguiled and entranced by an accident

To them each smash is heaven-sent

 III

They take their own sweet time to gaze their fill

The shards of Perspex form their daily thrill

They slow to idly gawp and watch and stare

Frustrating all around them without care

 IV

A rear-ended Kia; a Mercedes now smashed;

A Volvo whose front has been horribly bashed;

A Lancer now broken in multiple pieces:

Their morbid interest, it never ceases

 V

Of chaotic scenes they seem not to tire

They thrill with delight when a car catches fire

The daily commute thus grinds to a halt

Do they not realise that they are at fault?

 VI

Their gruesome obsession is hard to bear

Since when did courtesy become so rare?

Is there no other way to show my scorn,

Apart from the sounding of my horn?



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