When young people press me for advice on a career, I often cite the author Stella Gibbons: “The life of a journalist is poor, nasty, brutish and short.迷你倉 So is his style.”They always laugh, because they feel the famous quotation is exaggerated and self-deprecating. But I believe it will prepare them up for the potential pitfalls associated with such a seemingly glamorous and powerful profession, something Chen Yongzhou, the business journalist accused of fabricating facts for bribes, has fallen into.Chen, of the Guangzhou-based New Express newspaper, caused a stir recently when he confessed on national television that he had published a series of “unverified” and “false” reports against Zoomlion, an engineering company headquartered in central China, and he apologized to the company, its investors and his own family members.While doubts remain over the way Chen’s case was handled by police and the television network, most people familiar with the scene believe he has taken money for his articles that reportedly caused hefty losses to investors in the listed firm. Many Chinese journalists accept hongbao, or enveloped small amounts of money as gifts, from businesses or institutions to publish stories in their favor, a practice that persists despite decades of moral education and occasional high-profile punishments to some as a warning to others.Chinese journalists have traditionally regarded media ethics as a relatively unimportant attribute of their professionalism. Some even hold a cynical and amoral perspective when it comes to accepting money or other favors. As corruption pervades the Chinese social fabric, they believe media ethics are contextual and adopt an ethical relativism of varying degrees in accordance with the environment.For instance, a common excuse is that one should take hongbao at a press event if everybody else is taking it, or else he or she will risk antagonizing fellow journalists. Some justify themselves by thinking they have not deliberately falsified facts when they accept m文件倉ney to write a promotional piece.While such low ethical standards erode professionalism, a dire need for money may push some to slide further down this slippery slope.Under the pressure to cut costs and become leaner and more efficient, most Chinese traditional media pay their journalists with a combination of a basic salary and piecework. Those market-driven newspapers that are responsible for their own profits and losses, including the New Express, usually have elaborate ways to measure staff performance and wages.Although the system rewards prolific workers, it also makes others anxious about their hand-to-month existence, especially those in major Chinese cites with soaring house prices and rents. Some choose to leave for private, wealthy Internet media. Some join companies or the government. For those who stay, it’s often a day-to-day challenge to resist hongbao, which have become the norm for many corporate marketing activities.Recently, several newspapers in Shanghai merged to form a group that had a promise from the government it would pump in an annual subsidy of 100 million yuan ($16 million) to support its editorial operations. While such an arrangement might raise many eyebrows in the West, the group management was unapologetic, saying the funding would alleviate financial pressures, so its newspapers and journalists “can have dignity”.But Chen went too far and his case has prompted the regulatory authorities to intensify its nationwide crackdown on fake news, news for hongbao or extortion, through moral education and hardball approaches such as setting up hotlines so the public can report errant reporters.Perhaps the moves will help discipline journalists’ behavior. But I doubt if they will be enough to eradicate rampant media corruption, unless journalists voluntarily accept journalism’s code of ethics and demonstrate a higher degree of self-control.I wish my young questioners would take Gibbons’ mockery more seriously.The writer is editor-at-large of China Daily. dr.baiping@gmail.com存倉
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