Environmental journalism, urgent journalism
La Laguna de Tres Marias, in Comala, Colima. Click image to enlarge. Click to enlarge. (Photo: Agustín del Castillo).
In journalism's own little world, the label “environmental journalist” is often bestowed with some degree of contempt on those reporters who more or less specialize in human interest stories based on natural heritage, physical space, and environmental services in relationship to their fundamental connections with politics, society, culture, art and religion, as well as with that necessary evil—if any project ever is to be viable—the economy.
For me, this comes from a misunderstanding, since all journalism must somehow be environmental, given that the environment—the sum of the physical, biological, physiological and behavioral conditions of living beings and their ecosystems, and linked as it is to humans at the individual and societal levels—is the multifaceted source of everything we consider newsworthy.
The tale of the imbalances between all these components is, in esssence, conflict. And conflict is the substance of journalism. It is no wonder that English humanist Thomas More coined the term "utopia", from the Greek terms for "no place” or “nowhere". So far every society in search of greatness has had to face dilemmas and had to decide between options, some of which could lead to true dead ends.
Given that premise, every journalist should tune into the environment; it provides context. It is, as a professor once said, half of the news. Or in other words, it is what allows for the whole story. That points us to reflect on an extraordinary reality: The field of opportunity that environmental journalism offers is enormous. This is due to issues such as climate change having become global crises. With them come the local crises and related issues. These include health problems, human and animal epidemics, loss of fertile land and food shortages, changes in rain patterns, impaired water resources, increasingly extreme hurricanes, and resulting economic damage, political strife, and cultural devastation.
There has never been a better time to recognize the value of “environmental journalism,” which, if we are to define it in some way, is the act of delving into the great explanations about the failures and the impacts of our way of growing and reproducing, of creating wealth, of worshipping gods, and of cultivating leisure, those moments of laziness and idleness that seem to be the greatest desire of our democratic and relativistic societies.
But that impressive window of opportunity does not correspond to what the business managers of media outlets want covered. It is true that environmental issues unfold in the press. But in general terms, their publication demands great investment, that takes time, and don’ always offer spectacle, so are sacrifices to the prevailing business model.
Journalism—that vital social tool used by democracies to uncover, interpret and denounce collusion and collision between private and public interests—does not have many guardians of its own accountability. Today’s media gatekeepers do not see themselves as heirs of the time-honored responsibilities of the Fourth Estate. Only a minority of businesspeople accept that practically sacred trust. And one of the greatest news stories, the formidable and complex challenge of both the local and global environmental crisis is in dire need of dedicated professionals to cover it. Otherwise only a handful of historians will be left to witness how civilization ran aground in so many places. Or is that the gamble?