A flurry of excitement has gripped news services in the last week or so as several groups of ‘ISIS Brides’ arrived back in Australia, from parts of the Middle East. The actions of these women have caused consternation, to say the least, among Australians who consider that giving support and comfort to terrorists is at best an error of judgment. Some were arrested, others were not.
Some had scuffling supporters to welcome them, others arrived more or less unnoticed. Various opinions were voiced, or whispered, about what ought to have happened. Politicians did what politicians do. Talking heads talked.
At least two things became clear – they are real people, with friends and critics, and they are newsworthy. Nothing like a jostling crowd bumping into cameramen and reporters as the main characters barge their way through the arrivals hall blinking into the sunlight of the concourse, trying to spot an Uber to whisk them away, for a TV news item.
Newsworthiness is a difficult thing to define. I suppose newspaper editors and TV producers routinely make what to the naïve public look like heartless calls on what to leave out of the day’s edition. (And moronic calls on what to include.)
Indeed, the content of a paper or a nightly news bulletin is as instructive for what is not mentioned as it is for the items that do get a run. One gets a picture of what kind of overall story or stories the editor or proprietor feels most comfortable portraying. It is tempting to draw further conclusions from this kind of analysis about the motives behind the stance – but without further facts any conclusion would be just speculation.
Not that there’s anything wrong with speculation – sometimes it’s all we have to go on. When the story is NOT run, what are we to make of that?
Imagine a set of circumstances whereby a real family or group of friends was taken from a cruise ship mid-holiday and forcibly dressed in plastic overalls, masked, paraded across tarmacs, flown back to Australia, and detained indefinitely in a purpose-built stalag in Western Australia. It’s the Hantavirus, don’t you know. Not infection, just contact-traced.
Surely newsrooms would be frantic with activity, already looking beyond the smug claim from the federal Health Minister Mark Butler that these people would be subject to quarantine measures he boasted to be the toughest in the world. “I do make no apology for the fact this is one of the stronger approaches you’d see around the world,” he said, adding some countries are only quarantining passengers for a few days.
That kind of sound bite is good for a 20-second item on the telly. But the whole thing is a goldmine. Stories for months; even a cadet reporter could knock up a list of angles as long as Victoria’s lockdowns (262 days, lest we forget):
Who are they? What are their names? Are they related to each other? What was the rest of their holiday going to be? How long had they been planning it? Was it the trip of a lifetime? Are they missing their dog? Did they have other things they needed to be doing? Is their internet access working? How often are they Facetiming the grandkids? Are they getting exercise? Do they like the food they are being served?
Do they have a GoFundMe to pay for the rent they can’t afford because they can’t work? Has their small business gone bankrupt yet? Will they be able to claim compensation or sue the Department of Foreign Affairs or the Health Department for locking them up? Have their pre-existing medical conditions remained in check, or have they deteriorated? Have they missed an important event like a wedding or the birth of a granddaughter?
Newsrooms ought to be covering their plight. That they are not is proof that they are not regarded as newsworthy. Having reached that conclusion, we are back to wondering why.
According to my calculations, these Australians are about 2 weeks into their ‘at least 3 weeks’ nightmare. No questions have been put to the Prime Minister about their condition or their prospects. No talkback callers have claimed to be relatives. No updates on their frustrations or their excitement at their coming release. Diddly squat from the Human Rights Commission. Ditto any archbishop. Nothing, either, about whether they have yet shown any symptoms of the bogeyman disease that started the whole thing.
Surely we would have heard if any of the above had happened. Where does that leave us? Back to wondering and speculating.
A few possible, but not necessarily true, explanations include:
- There is a court injunction on any sort of reporting or disclosure about anything connected with these people;
- There is no injunction, but editors and producers really don’t think it is newsworthy;
- The people have no family or friends who care or who are capable of raising their voice loud enough to be heard;
- Australians generally don’t care about their fellow citizens being locked up;
- The whole thing is a hoax.
Perhaps there are other explanations – I’d love to hear them. But from those I’ve listed, I sure hope the thing is a hoax. Because any of the other explanations reveal what kind of country we have become: censored, submissive, and self-centered. And these poor bridesmaids are left to themselves.
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