Silent stringers

By Zhang Zihan Source:Global Times Published: 2012-11-7 20:45:04

 

Many Chinese news assistants, or
Many Chinese news assistants, or "fixers," work for foreign media outlets with minimal recognition. Photo: CFP



Today marks Journalists' Day in China, which is one of three holidays honoring professions - along with nursing and teaching - established by the State Council in 2000. While the day gives recognition to journalists across the country, there are countless unsung Chinese newsmen and women who also have contributed to the growth of journalism from their country in their role as news assistants, or "fixers," who help foreign correspondents.

Across print and broadcast media, they spend endless hours interviewing and translating often without credit to help produce stories about China consumed by people around the world in dozens of languages. Like journalists, they work to tight deadlines and often encounter danger in their work as they seek to report the news.

First on the frontline

For young graduates aspiring to themselves work as journalists, their initiation into the profession can be a challenging transition.

Chen Shi, 29, worked for a year at weekly Chinese-language newspaper The Economic Observer after graduating with her bachelor degree in journalism from Beijing Foreign Studies University in 2006. She worked between 2007 and 2010 for a British daily newspaper, which she requested not to be named, as a news assistant. Upon accepting the job, she immediately had to learn to deal with pressure.

"I was still a rookie at the time, but the foreign journalists would ask me to do many things in a short period of time including reading and translating Chinese-language news report, monitoring blogs on the Internet, and contacting all kinds of people from the grass-roots level to senior government spokespeople," said Chen. She was also in charge of booking tickets and arranging accommodation when journalists went to other cities to cover stories.

Risk is part of the job description for many foreign journalists in China. But for Chinese news assistants, the stakes can be even higher when pursuing a sensitive story.

Chen recalled one of her most risky assignments was a story about a land dispute in a small village in Northeast China.

"We were followed and surrounded by thugs immediately upon arriving at the village. Some 20 men blocked our way. They were directing their abuse at me because they couldn't speak English," Chen said. "They asked me questions including: 'What are you doing here? Why did you bring foreigners here? What is your motive? Who is your informant?' I was forced to answer these questions, even though it was the foreign journalist who conducted the interviews on their own."

Using limited Chinese, the foreign journalist tried to help Chen by saying she had nothing to do with the story and any inquiries should be directed to the newspaper, she said. "It was the only Chinese they knew how to speak, but they kept shouting to the crowd and I guess it overwhelmed the thugs because they dared not to move further," said Chen.

Caught in a cultural crossfire

Chinese news assistants' main assets are their bilingual skills, knowledge of the country's culture and keen sense of news values. The typically earning of them is between 7,000 and 10,000 yuan ($1,122-1,600) per month, according to Chen.

Chen once accompanied a photographer from the newspaper for a seemingly innocuous story about the Spring Festival travel rush. However, the story hit a snag when a railway officer aboard a train they were on in rural China took exception to the photographer taking photos of passengers inside a train carriage.

The familiar sight of an obstructing hand in front of the camera was followed by a request for all photos taken to be deleted. But Chen was determined not to let the railway officer derail their story.

"I went to the officer and tried to tell him that we were conducting regular journalistic work. I even agreed to accept his request for us to delete our previous photos under the condition he would let us take new ones," said Chen.

During their tense yet diplomatic debate, the photographer became anxious and scolded Chen for speaking too long with the officer.

"He [the photographer] told me to just give up, saying he could recover the deleted photos," said Chen, recalling she later broke down into tears. "But I wanted to prove to him that China has been more open to foreign journalists since the 2008 Beijing Olympics. I wanted to show we could carry out our job, but that we just needed to explain it clearly to the officer."

The railway officer finally relented, explaining that he was merely embarrassed the carriage was too messy due to passengers' strewn luggage.

While still passionate about journalism, Chen now works hard in another new job as a full-time mother. She acknowledges the two roles are too difficult to juggle. "I used to spend one-third of my time traveling for stories, but when I had my baby I realized it was time to leave," she said.

Hitting a glass ceiling

Guo Chen, 25, worked for five months last year as a news assistant for the McClatchy Company, a California-based media firm that runs 30 daily newspapers in 15 US states.

He said he was drawn to the company by its "news values and morality," but soon became weary because of its agenda that squarely focused on sensitive stories.

"McClatchy Company has a keen concern for reporting human rights issues, which meant I had to handle many frustrating stories. Eventually, it became too much and I decided to leave," he said.

Despite their common reportage of China in a negative light, Guo said he never had an issue with foreign reporters.

His main point of frustration was that there was no chance for him to be involved in reporting his own stories with his byline - a common desire for journalists at the start of their careers.

"I had limited involvement with 'journalism' per se when I was there. I was mostly used as a translator," he lamented.



Posted in: Metro Beijing

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