| Many of the myths and misperceptions that persist among non-Aboriginal people are perpetuated by no communication, poor communication or one-sided communication... (Source: Bud White, Royal Commission of Aboriginal Peoples, 1998) |
It often seems that the only coverage Native people receive in the news media centres on political and constitutional issues, forest fires, poverty and substance or sexual abuse.
Occasionally, stories about cultural activities appear on some local stations—but these are usually given only passing mention. And when it comes to issues that affect all Canadians, Aboriginal people are rarely, if ever, consulted.
Of course, the fundamental nature of news and news reporting is that the bad news gets all the attention. Tragedies, conflicts and crises get reported; success stories rarely do. But the end result is that a non-Native audience may well come to the conclusion that Aboriginal people are a troubled, plagued and contentious people. Rudy Platiel, who spent 27 years covering the Aboriginal beat for the Globe and Mail, notes that, "There are an awful lot of good things happening that are not going to get reported in the mainstream press unless somebody pushes to get them there."
The mainstream media owe it to their communities to reflect the cities, towns and rural areas by making their newsrooms as diverse as their communities.
(Source: Lynda Powless, Native Journalists' Association) |
There are a number of causes for poor reporting on Aboriginal issues. Journalists have tight deadlines and are rarely given adequate time to thoroughly investigate issues; the gatekeepers of newsrooms and newspapers are seldomwell-versed in Aboriginal affairs; and there is a dearth of experienced Aboriginal journalists. Aboriginal people make up over three per cent of the Canadian population. But in a 1994 study by the Diversity Committee of the Canadian Newspaper Association, of the 41 mainstream papers surveyed (employing 2,620 reporters, copy editors, photographers and supervisors) only four people were Aboriginal.
These factors all contribute to the perpetuation of incomplete and, in some cases, biased information. Over the years, for example, much coverage has been given to the "tax-free" status of Canadian Aboriginals—leaving many Canadians to believe that all Native people share a lucrative tax-exempt status. What is less well known is that only those working on reserves are eligible, and the unemployment rate in these communities is high since opportunities for work are quite limited.
In a 2000 study by York University professors Frances Henry and Carol Tator, journalistic bias in Aboriginal-related reporting was documented in relation to the Jack Ramsay case. A former RCMP officer and Reform Party MP, Ramsay was accused and convicted of the attempted sexual assault in 1969 of a 13-year-old Aboriginal girl.
Henry and Tator's research revealed that media articles focused overwhelmingly on the girl's alcoholic and abusive parents, her impoverished childhood, and her own bouts with alcohol and drugs. By contrast, the review of Ramsay was more sympathetic. It focused on his career, his service to the community, and his supportive family. Henry and Tator contend that such biased coverage served to enlist support for Ramsay, and to minimize the charges against him.
The 1990 Oka crisis was another telling departure from journalistic objectivity. In the summer of 1990, Mohawks in the town of Oka formed a barricade to protest the expansion of a golf course onto Native lands and burial grounds. Over a period of 78 days, mainstream press coverage evoked images of fierce Native warriors and focused on the threat of present and future violence from angry, lawless young men.
The media constructed what Gail Guthrie Valaskakis called "exaggerated monolithic representations of Aboriginal activists" that mobilized 4,000 soldiers and police. At the end of the stalemate, Valaskakis writes, when "the warriors" emerged from the blockaded building, it was seen that 27 were Aboriginal men, 16 were Aboriginal women, 6 were children, 1 was a non-White teenager and 10 were journalists—"all," says Valaskakis, "yoked together under one dominant image—the Mohawk Warrior."
The Oka standoff highlighted another problem with the reporting of Native issues. Non-Native journalists are often put in an untenable position: if they go into an Aboriginal story "cold," they can both encounter resistance, and get the story wrong; but if they do their preliminary research and work to gain community trust, they can be accused of being "biased" or "too close" to the story. Likewise, Aboriginal journalists may be limited professionally to covering "Native beats" and then criticized for their pro-Native bias.
Nor do Aboriginal communities themselves always cooperate in telling their story. "We can't use the quick-hit approach," says CBC journalist Loreen Pindera. "It takes an awful lot more time to re-establish trust with a community after they've been so frequently misrepresented by the media."
In the future, as media ownership becomes concentrated in the hands of fewer and fewer communications companies, it's possible that the news we receive from radio, television, newspaper and some Internet sources will become increasingly homogeneous. The native-owned Aboriginal Peoples Television Network gives Canadians the option of consulting a different news source for views and perspectives.
