Headlines, Human Rights, Middle East & North Africa, Press Freedom

LEBANON: Newsrooms Fall Prey to Seven Deadly Sins

Mona Alami

BEIRUT, Jun 18 2008 (IPS) - Prejudiced reporting is not uncommon anywhere, but in Lebanon the level of news distortion has taken on a new dimension as a result of assassinations, physical threats, political pressure, biased reporting, lack of professionalism, rampant corruption and self-censorship. These are the seven deadly sins that have increasingly been plaguing the Lebanese media over the years.

The most severe is undoubtedly the killing of prominent journalists, the deadliest form of censorship. On Jun. 2, 2005, Samir Kassir, leading columnist for the anti-Syrian daily al-Nahar, was assassinated in a car bomb in front of his home. A few months later, on Sep. 25, a bomb blew up under the SUV of political talk show host May Chidiac, another staunch opponent of Syria. Chidiac lost her left arm and leg.

On Dec. 12 last year, a powerful bomb blast shook the Mkalless area, one of Beirut's eastern suburbs. The charred remains of a car were found amid pine trees in the hills surrounding the scene of the explosion, and soon news of the death of al-Nahar editor-in-chief Gebran Tueni and his bodyguards was reported by every TV station.

These were clearly the most extreme form of pressure, but there are others.

"One is practised by politicians who directly call the journalist's superior and complain. Marketing companies are another force to be reckoned with, as their ads constitute the lifeline of media," says Paul Khalifeh, editor of Magazine, a political weekly published in French.

The managing editor of a leading English daily could not run the byline of one of his journalists for six months after the journalist made a trivial comment on the watch worn by the wife of a politician. After the story was published, the political figure called the management to complain, forcing the removal of the writer's name from stories.

More routinely, political pressure hits at the content, especially when a publication is perceived as following a certain political line. "A politician will intervene directly if he feels the content of an article is unfavourable to the general party line when the media is perceived as a political ally," says the editor of a local English publication, who chose to remain anonymous due to the sensitivity of the subject.

Biased reporting and lack of professionalism are also common on the Lebanese media scene. On Jun. 14 last year, an anchorwoman at National Broadcasting Television (NBN) – owned by opposition leader and head of the Amal party Nabih Berri – laughed about her happiness over the death of anti-Syrian parliamentarian Walid Eido, not realising she was still on air.

Other forms of lack of professionalism are intentional, clearly seen between the feuding majority Sunni Future Television and opposition Shia Hezbollah al-Manar stations. The two have been fighting a war of words, fuelling sectarian sentiment with programmes and political round table discussions that powerfully promote their respective political agendas. Among the many techniques used to taint the reputation of the other side is to edit political speeches to suit an agenda, modify content, or simply refrain from reporting certain events.

Politicians also bribe leading journalists working in local newspapers, some of whom can be seen boasting luxury watches and handsome cars, though they hardly have income to afford such luxuries. "Many reputed journalists are on the payrolls of coalition leaders from both sides of the political divide. They are not necessarily in it for the money, as many share their patrons' political views," says the editor.

Khalifeh says the approach to journalists from politicians is usually subtle, and built over time. "You're not asked over the phone if you're ready to cash a monthly cheque. You are wined and dined, invited to trips, and offered gifts." And then the bribes start flowing in.

One of the most elusive media sins in newsrooms around the country, however, is self-censorship, which involves journalists intentionally deleting or omitting a word, phrase, or fact, out of fear or because of their own political beliefs. "The media is a mirror reflection of Lebanese society, which is polarised to the extreme, and profoundly divided," says Khalifeh.

Sociologist Nabil Dajani from the American University of Beirut says about 82 percent of Lebanese watch television daily, making the power of the media all the greater. But with most TV stations aligned with religious factions, it is difficult to find an unbiased news source. "LBCI speaks for the Maronite Christians, Future Television for the Sunni Muslims, NBN represents Shias, while al-Manaar is an organ of Hezbollah," says Dajani.

The sociologist underlines that information broadcast or published is often distorted, while journalists increasingly play the role of agitators, morphing the media into propaganda instruments. "The population's main concerns, such as corruption or electricity cuts, among many others, are rarely tackled by the media. In addition, the written press increasingly addresses politicians and not the actual Lebanese people, as witnessed in the relatively lower circulation figures of late."

Khalifeh believes the most pressing matter is to reform the legislative media framework and, more particularly, the April 13, 1952 decree, which limits the number of political media. "Lebanese MPs tend to promote laws that are in their best interest and not in the public's."