The National Union of Journalists’ Annual Delegate Meeting, other than being a right mouthful to say out loud, was an incredibly eye-opening experience for me.
Having spent the past two years studying a journalism degree, and painfully aware that the not-so-free ride is coming to an end, it was a great opportunity to talk to the people who are not only part of the industry, but also suffering from it’s apparently drawn out murder.
There were inspirations – James Doherty leaving every student still left in the bar at three in the morning on Friday night (that was most, then) open-mouthed and inspired by his shocking tales from Gaza; Foster Dongozi from the Zimbabwe Union of Journalists making me realise just how vital ethical journalism is in a country where a brutal death at the hands of the government is your punishment for telling the truth; and the shared attitude of resilience that clearly holds the union together in a time where the only people who really care about journalism are the journalists themselves.
But with the moments of inspiration came snatches of self-doubt, of intense worry and the kind of feeling a novice mountaineer would get in his gut upon facing Everest.
I once heard journalism described as ‘a rich person’s hobby’. Indeed, a few days after getting back from the surprisingly delightful Southport, I attended the Guardian Student Media Conference, where the ‘Make It In Media’ panel consisted of the winner of last year’s Broadcast Journalist of the Year award and two Oxford graduates now working for the Guardian.
Perhaps not realising who the audience was, Aditya Chakrabortty explained how he got into the industry when the interview for his first job was chaired by another member of that ‘old boys club’. Despite knowing little in the role he was applying for, the only question in that interview that seemed to matter was ‘what college did you study at?’ He laughed it off whilst all the students listening audibly let out a resigned sigh of despair.
But there was one conversation I had towards the end of the weekend at ADM that has spurred me on. Ken Smith, chair of the NUJ Wales Council, told me all about his ambitious plans to organise a sort of local co-op of newspapers in Wales. He plans to work out a solution to the problems local news is facing, rather than whinging about it. What’s more he told me that there is a place for students in his scheme, and those students will be paid fairly for their work. Whilst his enthusiasm was encouraging, it was his attitude to students that made me realise that not everyone in this industry is looking for some cheap labour to abuse.
It’s hard to believe in yourself in journalism. Every time I tell someone what I’m studying, I get incredulous looks and jokes about taking photos up some poor starlet’s skirt as she tumbles out of her car. But I feel I took one of the greatest things from the ADM over the weekend – inspiration to not only make it in this career, but make the industry better than it has ever been before. Ambitious, yes, but there can be no success without ambition.
It’s either that or I invent a time machine and go study at Oxford.
