The impossible job of independent media

Independent media – now popularly known as citizen journalism – has never been about making everyone happy.

If it were, every independent site would publish weather forecasts, recipes and pictures of puppies. Nobody would complain, subscriptions would soar, and we could retire early.

Instead, we insist on wandering into uncomfortable territory.

For example, every time we publish an article about Pauline Hanson, someone inevitably demands, “Why are you giving her oxygen?”

The answer is surprisingly simple. Because she exists.

She wins votes. She influences debate. She shapes public opinion. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make her disappear. Ignoring political figures because we dislike them is not citizen journalism; it’s avoidance.

Curiously, had we ignored her, many of the same people would probably accuse us of deliberately suppressing news and opinion.

Then there is Donald Trump.

Write about him and an American invariably appears beneath our social media posts to remind us to “Mind your own business.”

It’s an interesting suggestion, considering American politics has an extraordinary habit of becoming everybody’s business. Wars, tariffs, climate policy, alliances, intelligence sharing, trade, financial markets – Washington sneezes and the rest of the world reaches for a tissue.

Australians discussing American politics is hardly revolutionary. Americans discuss Europe. Europeans discuss China. The British discuss Australia. Canadians discuss the United States. We all discuss one another because the world is now too interconnected to pretend national borders also contain political consequences.

Then come the articles scrutinising our own government.

These attract perhaps the most predictable response of all:

“At least they’re better than the alternative.”

It is one of those fascinating statements that sounds like an argument without actually being one.

Imagine taking your car to a mechanic.

“I’m afraid my brakes don’t work.”

“Yes,” replies the mechanic, “but they’re better than your neighbour’s.”

You would probably find another mechanic.

Governments are not elected to be better than an imaginary alternative. They are elected to govern competently. Their decisions deserve scrutiny on their own merits, not measured against the hypothetical shortcomings of someone else.

The same principle applies to oppositions.

Criticise the Opposition and you’re accused of campaigning for the government. “You’re just a Labor shill.”

Criticise the government and suddenly you’ve become an unpaid adviser to the Opposition.

Apparently there is no recognised category for people who simply believe everyone should be held accountable.

Perhaps this reveals something about the modern audience.

Increasingly, people don’t ask whether an article is accurate. They ask whether it comforts them.

The first question used to be, “Is it true?”

Now it is often, “Does this agree with me?”

If the answer is no, the article is dismissed as biased before the second paragraph has even been read.

Social media has amplified this instinct. Algorithms reward outrage. Nuance receives little attention. Certainty spreads faster than curiosity. Before long, every political issue becomes a football match in which criticism of one side is automatically interpreted as support for the other.

Citizen journalism was never supposed to work that way.

Its job is not to cheer from the grandstand.

Its job is to walk onto the field with a torch, shine it wherever it is needed, and occasionally make everyone uncomfortable.

That means:

• Questioning governments
• Questioning oppositions
• Questioning influential politicians
• Questioning powerful corporations
• Questioning fashionable ideas
• Questioning unfashionable ones too

Good journalism doesn’t pick a permanent side. It picks a permanent responsibility.

So we’ll probably continue writing about Pauline Hanson.

We’ll continue writing about Donald Trump.

We’ll continue scrutinising governments of every persuasion.

And no doubt someone, somewhere, will object.

That’s perfectly fine.

Because if nobody ever complains about our work, there’s a reasonable chance we aren’t doing very much work at all.