Column Big fish often swim against the tide, in politics as well as in editorial offices. A plea for more journalistic stubbornness Are you an opportunist, Mbwana? Bravo, this attitude makes a lot of sense in many, almost all professions. When the herd is bleating in one direction, it's hardly advisable to move in the other. Because woe betide you if the herd was right! And even more woe betide you if you were right! However, there are special cases: Journalism is one such case. In industries whose product is called attention, it is worth crying alone: Your light shines brighter in the open field than in the big city. Of course, you - like everyone else - steal most ideas from competing products: Journalism, like PET bottles, thrives on recycling; paper begets paper. But never steal in order to copy! Instead, do the exact opposite. Here are a few recipes.
When you hear hype, you say: Hype! From new sex practices to the Brunner, Metzler or Leuthard effect to the manager of the month: Week after week, fresh trends and winners are proclaimed. But not from you. It pays to stay calm and take a close look at the facts, figures and details. The result: the emperor is usually half naked. If the emperor is sufficiently prominent and you are sufficiently alone, you have made a name for yourself: your name is then Hansjörg Abt (Kaiser Rey) or Sepp Moser (Kaiser Swissair).
With Hatz you say: Stop! If a new poor sod (such as the shafted manager of the month) is chased through the village, your tactics are reversed: You explain why the persecuted person is not the disease, but merely a symptom of a much bigger disease.
Never call for heads, but always show which ideas and circumstances have led to rise and fall. Just judges are always respected by the public, prosecutors never are.
Write against documented prejudices. Do-gooder social workers? Most of the ones I know are patent, unsentimental and do their job with dry wit. There are also far more naive politicians than corrupt ones. And the occupational disease of most journalists is less curiosity than autism. (Test: How many journalists do you know who ask questions in private?) Writing against clichés - stylishly, of course, without ever mentioning the intention - gives the articles that realistic tingle.
What to do when the final chapter of a story seems to have been written? Often, when the final curtain falls on a long drama - such as a resignation, bankruptcy, investigation report or death - the media stutter exhaustedly. But only a completed story is a good story. It can finally be told as a whole: How it all began, what was suspected at the time - and how it came out.
Nothing new, admittedly. News professionals yawn, but readers don't. People love self-contained narratives (probably in the mistaken hope of learning something). Few things are read as avidly as obituaries.
Among media professionals, sophistication is considered a virtue, astonishment a vice. The best stories are created when you are surprised by something: For example, back in the middle of the Borer affair, when the WOZ found that the Blick was a) brilliantly produced and b) contrary to its reputation, to the left. Or when Facts stated that despite all the rhetorical individualism, collective discipline is on the rise: from smoking to education to the law. The reward of such articles: They are quoted so often that their basic insight sounds banal just weeks later. But this is journalism at its most influential: stating the obvious, but previously unseen, for the first time.
So much for some recipes, guaranteed to succeed like Dr. Oettker's. Even if heroic stories certainly sound much more dramatic: Really clever opportunists, Mbwana, are anti-opportunists.
> Constantin Seibt is editor of the weekly newspaper (WOZ).
