THE NEWSPAPER AS AN ORGAN OF OPINION
While the necessary characteristic of all periodical literature has
been the conveyance of news of some sort, sometimes of a general
and frequently only of a special character, there has run side by
side with this function the conveyance of general information and of
instructed comment and incidentally the opportunity of thus moulding
public opinion. In respect of this capacity there has been the widest
divergence in the character of newspapers and journals. So far as they
are newsgatherers and news disseminators, all papers have the same
task, even when there are enormous differences of excellence and subtle
differences of intention. But it is otherwise with them as organs of
opinion. This is an optional duty, which a great many papers avowedly
reject. Others by professing impartiality seem to follow the same
policy, while in reality they attempt to exercise influence by every
indirect method. A minority constitute themselves or find themselves
forced into the position of becoming the official or half-avowed
leaders of parties or groups, while every word of comment or criticism
is admittedly stamped with the current doctrines commonly held by its
special band of readers.
It is the case of these latter organs which we have specially to
consider in this chapter. There are so many ways of either guiding
or forming opinion by editorial comment or exposition and by the
publication of signed or unsigned articles of a more or less rhetorical
nature that a complete analysis of the subject means little less
than the history of the press. There are, however, roughly speaking,
certain broad differences of method, which afford us means for a
partial classification. It has been the habit for newspapers on the
continent of Europe to become the mouthpiece of certain well-known
journalists or groups of journalists, who influence and lead opinion
by the publication of signed articles, for whose policy the individual
journalist is himself alone responsible. In the United Kingdom the
prevailing practice has followed another course. Anonymous journalism
has been found in the end to be a more powerful political weapon,
partly because reverence attaches itself more easily to the unknown
and also because the shelter of corporate responsibility adds somewhat
to the freedom of writing and very much to the fertility of invention.
In America again the case is somewhat different. Both methods are there
followed but they are employed subject to the supreme requisition made
by the reading public for mere news, which it can analyze and judge for
itself.
Just as we chose the American daily paper for the model of a
newsgathering and news-presenting organization, so here we must admit
that, as an organ for expressing instructed opinion not only on
politics but on general topics, the distinctively English type of paper
is a far more potent and more highly-developed instrument. In this
respect the American press suffers severely from the general democratic
contempt prevailing on that continent for expert opinion of all kinds.
Since one man there is commonly reputed to be as good as another, so
there is no room even in that huge population for any one whose opinion
carries weight in any other sense than that a large number of people
think that he adequately expresses their views or comes near to saying
publicly, what privately each man feels and thinks more effectively for
himself. Although there are to be found across the Atlantic many men
of literary distinction and of a culture, which would be exceptional
anywhere, they hold sway, journalistically speaking, only in elegantly
printed magazines of small circulation and in social circles they
are notable for an apologetic manner and deprecatory attitude to
their countrymen, which sometimes seem odd to a stranger prepared
to reverence their talents. Of course here as elsewhere there are
exceptions, which we will come to later on.
So far as the American press is concerned the only sphere, where
editorial influence is either secretly or forcibly exerted, is in
national or municipal politics. Here the line is so sharply drawn
between opponents that little or no attempt at impartiality is
pretended and news and comment are both frankly presented by party
newspapers with highly-coloured bias and vehement advocacy. Persuasion
is not a weapon adopted by the American press, because during a
political campaign no reader has time or inclination to read the other
side. Sheer battering force or biting ridicule are the favourite
weapons. Their ingenuity is directed almost entirely on personal
matters rather than in the exposition of general ideas. More importance
is attached to discovering some weakness of private character in
an opponent or to attaching to his opinions and views some nickname
with an unpopular connotation than in confuting his arguments or in
examining the soundness and sincerity of his patriotism. The power
effectively within the control of an American party organ can be
exercised much more decisively inside the party before candidates
are chosen than afterwards when the champions are selected and the
battle is formally set. This choice of candidates is however itself
painfully restricted by the almost monotonous sameness of character
among the budding Transatlantic statesmen of the time. Pedestrian
eloquence, high animal spirits, physical vigour and an unimpeachable
rectitude in private life are indispensable requirements for success
in public life in America and politicians happy enough to possess all
these characteristics rather resemble each other on these lines to
the exclusion of any marked or unusual individuality of character or
intellect.
In France and Italy, where the signed article, speaking generally,
prevails, the excellence and weight of the written word in the press
has been profoundly modified and greatly extended. This authority,
however, attaches itself by a natural law to the names themselves, as
they become well known, and is apt to carry the fortunate individuals,
who thus establish themselves in popular favour, up to greater heights
than mere anonymous journalism can scale. Journalism thus becomes only
the ladder of ambition, as far as the successful writer is concerned,
and so far from being an end in itself, as it should be, is generally,
no more than the first step on the road to politics, even more so
perhaps in this respect than the profession of the law. As compared
with the English system the power of the newspaper itself is very
considerably curtailed. The advantage of the temporary possession of a
meteor is a doubtful one. He may mingle insubordination with brilliancy
and even where meekness and all the journalistic virtues are combined
in one pen, the ultimate loss of it will be the more severely felt. The
solid qualities on which the continuous influence of a great newspaper
rests are difficult under these circumstances to build up and it may
therefore be taken as an axiom that the cultivation of brilliancy in
journalism is to some extent converse to the acquisition of permanent
power and wealth by the press.
The favourable side of the continental system is the maintenance of a
very high literary standard and the acceptance in metropolitan circles
of only the finest qualities of artistic criticism on most subjects.
Nowhere in the world is such power wielded by journalists in the realms
of music, literature, art or the drama as in France or Italy. It is
taken seriously by the cultured public which reads it, because it is
good. It has to be good, because it is taken seriously. The standard
set in these matters is quite unapproachable by the wealthy and
enterprising English press and nothing less than a century’s education
of the English people would be required for us to see how much in this
respect our public taste is inappreciative and our general journalistic
performances inadequate.
The German journalistic system is on the face of it not so far distinct
from the general continental practice, except that they make less use
of the signed article and newspaper properties are correspondingly more
valuable. While the artistic and critical sides of German newspaperdom
are distinctly inferior to the standards common in France and Italy
there is one path in which their journals can claim pre-eminence in
that they treat seriously and reverently all matters of science and
learning, quite apart from any commercial demand in this direction
from their readers. But after making this deserved tribute to German
newspapers a foreign critic can best add to it by paying them the
compliment of treating their newspapers as in a state of transition
from Bismarckian serfdom to American commercialism. They combine some
of the worst qualities of both. Of independent character in the English
sense they have none, as they are too much under the heel of authority.
Enterprise in the American sense is only adopted in unessentials. In
the collection of news they are not more enterprising than the French
and their standard of accuracy in reproducing it is not very high.
Their papers are printed in Gothic type and written in a still more
Gothic style. Neither in politics nor in commerce, nor in finance is
their integrity above suspicion. Their influence with the public is
very considerable, especially in politics, but the source of their
power arises from the general respect felt by every loyal German for
the ultimate and _all-high_ authority which does not scruple or disdain
to use a thousand methods of pressure in order to sway to its will
the minds of men. Even where this authority is not itself ostensibly
at work, as it often is, its powerful and indirect influence over
the press is fertile in suggesting to the popular imagination those
courses of conduct which will be agreeable to the powers that be.[5]
[5] Although this criticism in the text sounds rather
harsh, it by no means equals many things said in the
Socialist papers against the “Steel Press.” German
papers have never recovered from the combination of
bullying and corruption exercised by Bismarck, and
still to some extent continued, and since his time
great commercial concerns like the Stahl-Verband
have had an almost equally baneful influence. I
was unfortunately in Berlin at the time of the
“Titanic” disaster, and looking at the records of
that catastrophic incident even in the best papers, I
was not impressed either by their critical power in
assessing the value of news, or by their judgment in
commenting on it.
Taking the press not only as the great news-distributor of the
world, but also as almost the most powerful existing mechanism for
the moulding of opinion, I do not hesitate to declare that for the
last half of the Victorian century the British press held a position
demonstrably superior to the press of any other country. Although in
many respects, and some of them important ones, of which I have already
mentioned a few, we ought freely to acknowledge our inferiority, in
the two most vitally important attributes of journalism I believe we
have long been unrivalled. The first is good professional judgment
in selecting and absolute faithfulness in presenting the news of our
own country and the most important news of the world. The second
is the spirit of independence and contempt for corruption, either
through the channels of power or by the pulling of financial strings,
which makes it inconceivable for even the smallest newspaper here
to boast of its honesty, an experience, which is a common enough
occurrence, when one travels in any other country. Whenever corruption
or blackmail occasionally finds an unsafe footing in one of the
side-walks of journalism it is looked upon as a crime, both morally and
professionally, which every one must stamp out, wherever found. Any
manager or journalist of experience will tell you that the suggestion
of bribery either at headquarters or with one of the ordinary daily
staff of a newspaper is an experiment of the utmost danger to any
one attempting it. It would most probably be followed by the instant
occurrence of the disaster, which there was an endeavour to avert; in
fact the only chance of escape for the offender would be the extreme
insignificance of his affairs.
But while in many respects much of this stubborn virtue is still a
characteristic of the British press, especially in the professional
sense, yet it is questionable whether, looking at the independence
of our press in the broadest sense, we are not in the course of a
transition to a less desirable state of affairs. It is a matter on
which I should be very reluctant to pronounce a responsible opinion.
All I can see clearly is that a very important change is in progress,
the final result of which it is still too early to forecast. The
critical date of the change was almost exactly at the end of the last
century with the outbreak of the Boer war and the tariff controversy,
which followed. Those two events, while they left the country press in
very much the same position as before, profoundly modified the position
of the richer and more influential daily papers in London. The bitter
controversies, which commenced with those issues, have practically
thrown the great majority of the well-to-do classes in the kingdom on
to one side in politics. Nearly all the richer newspapers, including
one or two influential provincial dailies, naturally followed this
lead and we have the remarkable spectacle of practically the whole of
the important daily press in the metropolis being influenced by the
aspirations, prejudices and casual opinions of only one of the great
political parties. Now without suggesting the slightest imputation on
the professional honour of these great journals nor impeaching their
straightforward honesty, it is clear to me that the relative value of
truth in all controversial matter has been dangerously disturbed.
The mirror of the London press reflects only the drab colours of any
presentation of one aspect of society, reserving all the hues of sunset
for any little feature of the other. The resulting picture is produced
unconsciously and in good faith, but it is none the less subject to
dangerous distortion of the truth. This prevailing misfortune is
growing worse daily and already we have lost the chastening memory of
days, when impartiality was more strictly maintained in our press as
a whole by the adequate representation of both sides. Society with a
big S, has gone entirely on to one side and has imposed on its press
that most hopeless form of provincialism, which already prevails in
high circles in Berlin, of merely refusing to recognize as possible the
existence of culture, good faith and even of common honesty in those
who do not adopt the opinions prevailing in its own ranks. From this
blindness I see no ordinary means of deliverance.
These somewhat gloomy reflections are applicable only to the penny
press. In the more popular forms of journalism honours between the two
political parties are nearly equally divided. But stress is to be laid
in this matter chiefly on the penny press, because it is only in these
journals or more expensive ones that any considerable space can be
given to political debates and intellectual and artistic interests.
They are a necessity to any man of culture and it is a disaster for
him if opinions on important matters in the leading organs become
stereotyped in what some may regard as a prejudiced point of view.
Again the importance of the penny press in this connection arises in
another form, because in what I am disposed to consider the Augustan
age of the press, the last fifty years of Queen Victoria’s reign, it
was this section which really raised British journalism to a height
of dignity and power, which has never been equalled and most probably
never will be again.
During this golden period, in the course of which the penalyzing taxes
on advertisements and paper were removed, the rise of those powerful
and rich organizations took place such as we pre-eminently connect with
our idea of an “organ of the press.” This idea itself is probably more
completely embodied than anywhere else in the London _Times_, which
although not itself a penny paper, set the standard to which the penny
morning journals of the United Kingdom more or less approximated. The
foundation of the power and influence of our great metropolitan and
provincial dailies was continuity of proprietorship and of general
policy over a long period and the possession of great wealth. They were
too valuable, both as properties and as political weapons, to pass
easily from hand to hand and the families in whose possession they
remained constituted a little aristocracy of high ideals and great
stability of character. This represents one side of the medal. The
other must be looked for in the staffs of journalists, who worked for
them and the system of co-operation and the sacrifice of interests on
both sides.
Looked at philosophically the keystone in the dignified arch of the
old-fashioned press of the United Kingdom was mutual sacrifice between
the proprietors and journalists. Wealthy corporations though they
generally were, the great English dailies have always been liable
to storms and disasters and progress could only be purchased by
great risks of capital. The proprietors of those days stood by their
papers,[6] as they would not have done by an ordinary business, staking
their private fortunes and exposing their family comfort to the risks
of an unstable source of income. Some foundered while others rose to
great wealth. The proprietors also stood by their men, whether editors
or journalists, and treated them as members of a family, protecting
them, encouraging them and keeping many a lame dog in employment
because he had once done good work.
[6] For fear that any one should imagine that I am
labouring this point or exaggerating an exceptional
condition of things I think I am free to state here
what would otherwise never be known. The fact is
entirely to the honour of the proprietor and not at
all to the discredit of the paper concerned. To my
certain knowledge the late Mr. John Edward Taylor
refused to consider an offer of a million sterling for
the _Manchester Guardian_, at a time when such a sum
would have very favourably represented the value of the
paper. He wrote to me briefly, asking me _not to send
on to him communications of that kind again_. I have
known four or five other proprietors of great papers,
who would have been capable of doing the same thing.
As an instance of the generous and courteous
consideration shown by a famous proprietor to a
deserving servant I refer the reader to a letter
written by Mr. John Walter of the _Times_, dated Oct.
30, 1854, to his correspondent, Mr. William Howard
Russell, as he then was, acting for his paper in the
Crimea. The letter is given in full in Mr. J. B.
Atkins’ “Life of Russell,” and contains very much
more than an acknowledgment of an obligation or the
conferring of a favour.
The sacrifices they required and generally received in return were
devotion to duty, anonymity and frequent concessions in matters of
opinion to the policy of the paper. As the two latter points are vexed
questions of high domestic interest to newspaper men a digression to
discuss them will be pardonable particularly since they have a very
material bearing on the power and influence of any organ of the press.
With regard to devotion to duty a very special quality in this respect
is demanded of newspaper men. Private interests, life and limb and
even reputation have to be risked by them more frequently than in the
ordinary walks of life.
Anonymity is the institution on which the peculiar success of British
journalism is founded. It is a point on which the individual surrenders
with the greatest reluctance. There is something dazzling in the
public reward of successful persuasion and the avowed capture of other
men’s minds. In fact very brilliant writers will never consent to it,
feeling, that their power is inherent in themselves for which there can
be no adequate compensation. So long as either pure literary quality is
aimed at or personal influence desired, such an attitude is entirely
justified. But such men are not permanently destined for journalism.
They must fight out their fate on a wider field and bear the frost of
criticism and the starvation of neglect by their own strength without
the support or constraint of a newspaper behind them. For journalism
proper anonymity has many good points about it, which escape the eye
of the young and inexperienced. For one thing it builds up the wealth
and importance of the organization, which draws the revenues and
distributes the salaries. Thus it comes about that a young man, who
would not earn a pound a week in any walk of pure literature, where he
expects to be paid also by recognition, can earn a comfortable living
by suppressing his natural desire for fame and doing the necessary work
of the press. But there is a further advantage for the journalist in
anonymity; it is a very effective shelter under which he can do his
daily round of ordinary work without the natural slackening and the
painful fits and starts which pursue inevitably the responsible writer,
who has to put his own name to everything he produces. It may be
possible for the Latin mind to dwell perpetually in the higher levels
of brilliancy but the heavier Anglo-Saxon finds a sheltered routine
more profitable to his genius.
The advantage to the newspaper of anonymity is more obvious. The
grand manner can be more easily sustained where irrelevant individual
characteristics are suppressed and continuity can be better preserved
in spite of necessary changes of the staff. Again any writer can almost
double his output under the shelter of the paper’s responsibility
and what is lost in brilliancy is gained in steadiness. Perhaps the
greatest advantage is gained by the paper through the establishment of
journalism on a professional basis. The writer of signed articles is
really a pamphleteer, who uses the newspaper as a vehicle just as in
other days he would use a publisher. The journalist proper, who takes
material as it comes along, has to acquire a certain toughness of taste
and suppression of inclination, which in the ordinary course of things
is probably the greater part of the sacrifice he makes to his calling.
It is only a rare writer here and there, with something of the touch of
the missioner or fanatic, who can successfully fulfil his career as a
journalist without acquiring these callosities and partial mutilations.
The harder sacrifice sometimes required from a journalist in the
occasional subjection of his private opinions was fortunately not often
demanded under the old system. How far any concessions in opinion to
the exigencies of his profession is possible for any journalist is a
matter for a man’s own conscience. But custom has always ruled these
matters in this country in the spirit of judicious and practical
compromise. A wise editor will never be exacting in this respect
because in one eventuality he will get bad work, in the other he
will either break or lose his instrument. It is usually found that an
intelligent sympathy with the general policy of the paper is enough for
most conscientious people. There is no humiliation in conceding matters
of detail and even here there are compensations, for a subordinate
may now and then steal a march on his superiors by committing his
journal in the sense of his own opinions on some happy occasion. It
is essential that these happy occasions should not occur too often or
there may be a sudden parting of the ways opening up to the adventurous
writer.
Under the newer newspaper _régime_, where commercial considerations
rule far more than they did under the old family system, this question
of a conflict between conscience and economic pressure frequently comes
up in a most cruel fashion. When a newspaper passed into the hands of
a new proprietor, whose only object in acquiring it was to have the
opportunity of changing its politics, all the special writers, whose
province covered politics, might be condemned by their sense of honour
to go out into the street. This has happened before now, as every
newspaper man knows. Lord Morley at a dinner given to Sir Edward Cook
dwelt on this precarious feature of the journalist’s life and stated
that he himself during a long connection with this calling as writer
and editor had never yet seriously advised a young man to adopt it as a
career.
There is no doubt that the successful commercialization of journalism
during the opening years of the twentieth century has greatly increased
the chances of this painful misfortune occurring to a writer in the
zenith of his career. There is little distinction now made between
newspaper properties and any other, except that their political
influence adds some considerable extra value to their market-price. In
almost the majority of cases they are owned by limited companies. Their
possession does not carry with it the feeling of a public trust; to
own one means just so much money and so much power. It is safe to say
that, while these pages are being written, not less than four of the
London dailies are to be had for an offer, one of which at least is an
exceedingly good property in the full course of prosperity. The effect
on the life of the journalist and on the type of man, who is now coming
into the profession, shows a change for the worse as compared with
twenty years ago. The hazardous career now offered attracts a different
class of men, more exacting in the way of remuneration, more brilliant
and less patient, with none of the specialized devotion to his own
institution, which was the peculiar characteristic of the Victorian
political writer. At present the newer papers, such as the halfpenny
dailies, are living mostly on the supplies of talent left over from the
Victorian era with a few newcomers of a more sensational type. But some
of these will soon pass away and some will become editors and we shall
become altogether dependent on journalists of another kind, one quarter
special pleader for any cause and three-quarters descriptive reporter.
Education will become a disadvantage and motherwit with a turn for
word-spinning will take its place.
To return to the main question of the actual power over opinion
exercised by the press I am inclined to think it was at its maximum in
this country during the Victorian age. Not only one but three or four
prominent journals would guide opinion during a decade, of which the
_Times_ stood easily first. Statesmen would take hints from newspapers
or privately from journalists. The leading articles every day would be
scanned by politicians looking for approval with an eagerness, which
is already becoming a thing of the past. Of instances frequent enough
and already well-known to the public, it will be sufficient to select
only one, the celebrated advice given to Lord Beaconsfield by the late
Frederick Greenwood, and acted on by the former with prompt adroitness,
to buy the Suez Canal shares for the British Government, advice which
ultimately led to our control of Egypt.
The influence of a newspaper on the opinions of its readers is largely
a matter of reliance and discretion on the part of those who guide
its policy. Of course there is the avowed political partisanship,
officially acknowledged and attracting the support of most of its
readers for this cause alone. In this respect, however, no paper
can claim to influence its readers, because they have formed their
own opinions for themselves on the main issues already. The real
power of a paper depends chiefly on the skill with which it is kept
in the background and the severe economy of its use. Any blatant
partisanship on unnecessary occasions begets in the reader the habit
of discounting its repetition and of steeling his will in resistance.
This is sometimes so strong an automatic habit that many men make a
point of reading something of an opposition journal, so as to stiffen
their prejudices and give an indignant edge to their own version of
patriotism. It is getting truer every day that the lecturing leading
article is little appreciated and influence is more effectually exerted
by the presentation of news.
This is conspicuously true of the more popular halfpenny journals.
These are not all of the same class, as those which once occupied the
position of penny morning papers retain many of their old following
and are thus encouraged to continue something of the style and of the
make-up, which was suited to their narrower circulation. Of the new and
frankly commercial press one may say with some confidence, that they
have no influence in the old-fashioned sense at all. In all matters of
opinion what they say is a matter of indifference. Their function is
to supply to those, who already agree with them, a brief and effective
setting for obvious facts and sometimes just so much misrepresentation
as to make unpalatable facts a little more tolerable. In London it
is conspicuous how insignificant their political efforts may be. In
the last three elections the most populous parts of London have on
the whole voted in the sense contrary to the two or three sensational
journals which have the largest circulations in those localities.
With all the merits of these popular journals, and these are very
marked in comparison with the halfpenny press of other countries, it
is impossible to deny that the recent commercialization of journalism
is an irredeemable loss to this country. We have probably in the last
twenty years parted silently with an asset of unique value. It was
perhaps inevitable and no one need blame themselves or any one else.
In fact, the group of successful men, who have rather brilliantly,
in one sense, effected this revolution, are not responsible for the
circumstances, which made their own victory necessary. One may perhaps
grumble at the rather obvious insignificance of the new “replacers.”
No personality seems to emerge from among them and one is tempted to
conclude that the task they have effectively accomplished was one more
suited to Attila than to Napoleon.
The real dominant factors of the modern press and the press of the
future are the machine, the telephone and the special train. Production
by the million is an exacting master. Instead of three hours for a
considered version of facts or opinion, the modern writer is often
given fifteen minutes, in which to turn out a smart distortion. The
more a man can resemble a Linotype machine the more useful will he
be to the paper of to-morrow. He must of course be complicated in
organization, his mechanism must be ingenious enough to conceal his
mental subordination. But just as the pressing of any key on the
composing board brings down always the same letter so will it be
required from the brilliant, up-to-date journalist of the millennium,
that he must react automatically with the most faithful resemblance to
the accuracy of a machine to each stimulus afforded by varying events,
popular emotions and the ideas of the market-place.