The morning of Yasser Arafat’s funeral last November, Don Imus, host of Imus in the Morning said, “They’re [Palestinians] eating dirt and that fat pig wife [Suha Arafat] of his is living in Paris.” His guest, sports anchor Sid Rosenberg, added, “They’re all brainwashed, though. That’s what it is. And they’re stupid to begin with, but they’re brainwashed now. Stinking animals. They ought to drop the bomb right there, kill ’em all right now.”

There were complaints, of course, and an MSNBC statement explained that the views expressed were not those of the network.

Despite the racist comments, you can still watch MSNBC in Canada. Al-Jazeera, the Qatar-based, 24-hour news channel, has received similar complaints and issued similar statements, but under a ruling made by the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC) in August 2004, it will only be legally available in Canada if a distributor hires full-time staff to monitor the channel’s content, and alter or delete offensive material before it airs.

The decision to place an additional monitoring burden on Al-Jazeera’s potential Canadian distributor reveals a misunderstanding of the network’s origins and content: it was originally staffed by ex-BBC News journalists, and while it’s managed to turn Middle Eastern television on its head in under a decade, its news sense remains decidedly Western. If it bleeds, it leads.

In 1996, BBC News Service shut down its Arabic-language news channel after 20 months of operation. The emir of Qatar, Sheikh Hamed bin Khalifa Al-Thani, bought up the equipment and many of the staff; he’s been funding al-Jazeera (which means “the island”) at the rate of about $100 million a year since. The emir graduated from the Royal Military Academy in Sandhurst, England, in 1978, and overthrew his more autocratic father, who was in Switzerland at the time, in a nonviolent coup in 1995. He’s since moved the country closer to democracy. He replaced Qatar’s Ministry of Information with the General Association for Qatari Radio and Television. Al-Jazeera is modeled after the BBC: it’s publicly funded, but enjoys editorial freedom. The network now employs about 350 journalists, and 50 foreign correspondents in 31 countries – all of it run out of a small Middle Eastern monarchy with a population of 745,000 people.

Al-Jazeera first came to the attention of many Canadians in October 2001, when the network aired a video of Osama bin Laden taking responsibility for the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon the previous month. Since then, al-Jazeera has sometimes been called “Osama TV,” and been seen as a mouthpiece for terrorists, despite programs like More Than One Opinion, which discusses science, culture, and economics, and The Opposite Direction, a talk show that has discredited theories of Zionist conspiracy. Al-Jazeera bureaus have been forced out of Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Palestinian Authority, and Jordan – an attitude of intolerance mirrored by the United States in its calls for censorship, even as members of the first George W. Bush Administration, like former National Security Advisor and current Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice, and former Secretary of State Colin Powell, appeared on al-Jazeera to explain the U.S. government’s position. The network has advocates on both sides – in the Middle Easterners who gather to watch it in public caf?s, and Westerners who believe the inclusion of its perspective is necessary.

Jerry Khouri, policy advisor at Queen’s Park, can speak to both these viewpoints. “Do we want Rogers deciding what’s appropriate?” He says the argument made in favour of al-Jazeera’s availability in Canada was faulty. “You cannot reduce yourself to a nice little island, excuse the pun, and say, ‘We want to watch al-Jazeera because it reflects us.'” He argues that al-Jazeera should be brought to Canada because its coverage will provide greater diversity from which all Canadians will benefit.

Khouri is not alone in finding fault with the CRTC’s decision. Amir Hassanpour, associate professor in the Department of Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations at the University of Toronto, says the CRTC should have let existing media watchdogs report on al-Jazeera’s content, instead of placing a burden on distributors that none would be willing to bear. However, he believes instances of racism are ultimately the network’s responsibility: “Al-Jazeera should be more cautious and not allow it as a matter of policy – not because there will be protests, but because it’s racist.”

While both al-Jazeera and MSNBC have aired racist comments, the former’s business practices have paralleled those of Western networks even more closely. When the U.S. first invaded Afghanistan, CNN and al-Jazeera struck a deal whereby CNN had exclusive rights to al-Jazeera footage six hours after the initial broadcast; in exchange, CNN sent satellite uplink equipment to the country for the use of both networks. However, other networks took no notice of the agreement and used al-Jazeera footage within CNN’s exclusive period, invoking “fair use.” While the deal ended in January 2002, it proved that al-Jazeera can function quite nicely within the Western media framework.

Further, Mohammed el-Nawawy and Adel Iskandar, authors of al-Jazeera: The Story of the Network That Is Rattling Governments and Redefining Modern Journalism, argue that al-Jazeera is still comparable to CNN. When the former uses the word “martyr,” they say, it better captures the Arab perspective on certain world conflicts. They wonder, is it any different from CNN describing assassinations as “targeted killings”?

And while al-Jazeera may have opened the way for the news channels sprouting up around it, those start-ups, such as Al Arabiya, may soon surpass the original Arab 24-hour news channel. “Slowly we’re seeing other satellite stations scooping al-Jazeera,” says Khouri. He continues, “What I find so fascinating is al-Jazeera is not even changing its perspective. They’re doing the same thing over and over. They’re not learning. They’re watching Al Arabiya, with all its flaws, grow its viewership.”

Khouri believes the novelty of al-Jazeera is fading. “Over time you’re going to be seeing a lot of Arab journalists criticizing al-Jazeera more and more.”

Hassanpour, however, says that while the network deserves some credit for bringing Western-style news to the Middle East, talk shows like The Opposite Direction aren’t quite as groundbreaking as some believe. “Debates existed long before media or television,” he says.

Hassanpour says the Middle East has a long history of press freedom the West hasn’t recognized, and in some cases has tried to suppress. When I visited his office this winter, he set a cardboard box on his desk and piled up feminist magazines published by the University of Tehran, literary journals, and newspapers devoted to the discussion of democracy. He collects them privately because they can’t be found in local libraries. “The state hasn’t been able to silence Middle Eastern journalists.” When the stack was complete he looked up and said, “There’s nothing they don’t discuss.”

“Terrorist.” The first time I remember hearing the word, I was 12. It was 1995, and the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City had just been bombed. For many years after, whenever I heard the word terrorist, I pictured a shady white man in a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses. Following the tragedy of the World Trade Center attack, that picture changed and I saw not one man, but many, all dark-skinned and faceless. This new image did not come from a dictionary, but from the media. I realized that the way the word was used in the TV I watched and the newspapers I read changed the meaning of that word forever.

That’s why I was not surprised when, in September 2004, Reuters criticized CanWest Global Communications Corp. for misuse of the word “terrorist.” It accused CanWest of adding the word into Reuters’s news copy, thereby adding a negative slant to stories regarding the war in Iraq. CanWest defended its use of the word, saying that it had the right to edit news copy to fit its publication.

When it comes to word choice, journalists are responsible not only to their dictionaries, but also to the experiences and emotions of their readers. In a country as diverse as Canada, journalists must often report on issues dealing with a wide range of cultural and religious backgrounds. It is not enough to write from assumptions. In reporting that deals with sensitive issues, what journalists don’t know can hurt others.

Below are five words commonly used in news and popular culture. As well as their literal meaning, each has religious and historical connotations that can mean a world of difference to the reader. When used properly, they can be powerful and provocative. Use one of these words incorrectly, however, and risk damaging your reputation and insulting your reader.

Fundamentalist \ fun’da-men’tal-ist \ n. a movement or attitude stressing strict or literal adherence to a set of basic principles.

Canadian media often use the word “fundamentalist” as a synonym for “extremist,” to describe any religious group that has acted out, caused trouble, or hurt others. One example of this can be found in the Vancouver Sun, where the term was used to describe one sect of Sikhism that was causing political and social disorder.

Manjit Singh is a member of the Canadian Sikh Council and professor of Sikhism at McGill University in Montreal. He explains that, not only was it incorrect to use the word “fundamental” to describe the Vancouver-based community, it is not even possible to use the term to differentiate between Sikh sects.

“The majority of journalists do not have an adequate understanding of Sikhism, so they just tend to apply what terminology they can get,” says Singh. “The teachings of Sikhism are such that if a person is following them then that person cannot be called a fundamentalist. The teachings are very clear and there is no scope for that sort of different interpretation.”

Guru \ gu-ru \ n. a personal religious teacher and spiritual guide.

In October 2004, Chatelaine magazine prompted women to discover a gardening guru. The year before, it offered advice for readers by providing an online health and wellness guru. In the Sikh tradition, where the word originates, a guru is much more than a health advisor, or an expert on shrubs. In Sikhism, where the word “Sikh” literally translates to “student,” the word “guru” means “teacher.” According to The Centre for Faith and The Media, a Calgary-based organization designed to educate journalists on issues of religion, in the Sikh faith, a “relationship to the Guru – taken in full seriousness – makes one a ?student of the eternal’.”

“Guru is the word for teacher, but also is the word used for the creator, depending on what sense in which someone is using it,” says Singh. “You have to know the context in order to say whether the person means teacher or the Almighty.”

Jihad ji-had \ n. a holy war waged on behalf of Islam as a religious duty.

The Centre for Faith and The Media says, “There is no term in Islam that is so misused or abused as jihad.” In its Journalists’ Guide to Islam, the organization explains that it does not literally mean “holy war,” but rather “to struggle or strive for a better way of life.”

Michelle Hartman, a professor of Islam at McGill, explains that while “holy war” is one interpretation of jihad, it does not encompass the entire term.

“Every Muslim is meant to jihad – to strive to be a better Muslim,” Hartman says, “But people do that in different ways. Some donate money, and some go and try to do something positive in the world. The important thing to keep in mind is that it is a big concept with diverse set of meanings. One of those is war and violence. That’s not the primary meaning – it’s only one – but it’s the one that has gotten the most attention.”

Mecca \ mec-ca \ n. a place regarded as a centre for a specified group, activity, or interest.

While the dictionary allows Mecca to be used for a variety of locations, Muslims define Mecca as only one place – the holiest city in Islam. All prayers said by Muslims must be said while facing Mecca, and each capable Muslim has a duty to make a pilgrimage to the Saudi Arabian city to pray in its sacred mosque.

Because of the emphasis put on the city of Mecca by the Islamic faith, the word Mecca developed as a metaphor for “place of utmost holiness,” or “ultimate goal.” While it may not seem derogatory to use the word in this manner, it can become offensive when used to describe places or activities that are against Muslim doctrine. For instance, referring to Las Vegas as the “Mecca of gambling” can be offensive to someone of Islamic faith, for whom gambling is a serious sin.

Nirvana nir-va-na \ n. a place or state of oblivion to care, pain, or external reality.

Nirvana, a term from the Buddhist religion, literally means without (nir) flame (vana). While popular culture has understood the basic meaning of nirvana, which is the state of ultimate bliss or cessation of suffering, it has ignored the implications of the path one must take to reach nirvana, a path that to Buddhists is seen as rigorous and disciplined.

“Nirvana is used in a way that is trying to evoke similar feelings of what the tradition is trying to evoke,” says Dr. Ellen Goldberg, a professor of Buddhism at Queen’s University in Kingston. “But the path to attain that is quite different. The path is in fact quite complex and involved.”

“I don’t think our popular culture has a clear understanding of the implications,” says Goldberg. “It’s like using Buddhist monks to sell a cake. It is anti-theoretical to what the faith has promoted in the last 500 years.”

On June 15, 2004, the online music magazine Pitchfork published a review of the Beastie Boys’s 2004 release, To the Five Boroughs. It was written by Brent DiCrescenzo, one of the site’s regular contributors. More than 2,000 words in length, the actual CD review was buried under a disjointed and confusing chronology that moved between Milan and Manhattan over a period of about five years. The writer’s tone went from angry (when describing what were later revealed to be made-up experiences with the band’s publicist) to nostalgic (when reflecting on where he was in life when listening to each Beastie Boys album as it was released). He signed off by bidding farewell to his career as a music writer. “This process has become uninteresting and routine,” he wrote.

In addition to having little to do with the CD in question, DiCrescenzo’s review contained false information. Less than a week after the post, Pitchfork issued a retraction, advising its readers of inaccuracies. The piece has since been revised, but the original, as well as Pitchfork‘s statement, can be found on any number of blogs and message boards, along with comments expressing glee at Pitchfork‘s mistake (“As we read this, we emit low, mordant chuckles,” wrote Marc Hogan, blogger on Whopundit, on June 22, 2004.) The review was named one of 2004’s worst pieces of music writing on rockcritcs.com. “Even the retraction that Pitchforkhad to print after this was better than this article,” wrote Jason Gross, editor of online music magazine Perfect Sound Forever.

Pitchfork is frequently the subject of scorn among readers – and writers – of music criticism. In describingPitchfork editor Ryan Schreiber’s news story about the success of Bright Eyes’s recent singles, Globe and Mail columnist Carl Wilson wrote: “His curdled incredulity was consistent with Pitchfork‘s tone toward all culture tainted by mass popularity, with the old indie habit of retreating behind concentrically embedded moats of sarcasm.” Robert Christgau, longtime music critic at The Village Voice, referred to writers for bothPitchfork and Pop Matters (another popular online magazine) as “tyros opining for chump change,” in his article “A History of Rock Criticism,” for Columbia University National Arts Journalism Program.

In part, the critical reaction reflects the site’s growing importance in the music industry, with 115,000 visitors daily and label scouts checking in regularly for tips on bands. A positive review on Pitchfork is now considered a prelude to commercial success. Advertisers are investing in the exposure Pitchfork offers, which has allowed Schreiber to hire a sales rep. It has also afforded him the luxury of signing on managing editor Scott Plagenhoef, and the site’s content has grown to include frequent reviews of individual tracks and a daily feature story.

Yet it remains to be seen whether Pitchfork will address charges that it is an amateur publication with an immaturely jaded perspective, and become universally accepted as a legitimate source of music criticism.

Plagenhoef, who started as managing editor last fall and previously wrote for the Chicago Sun-Times and various sports magazines, says he wants to raise the bar of professionalism at Pitchfork. Already, he says, the publication is more writer-friendly. “Because Ryan’s not doing everything himself,” says Plagenhoef, “there is more communication among staff. Writers have more input at every level.”

Further, the scope of the site’s coverage has expanded. “It’s not as rock oriented,” Plagenhoef explains. “There’s more noise, folk, metal, jazz. We offer as wide a range as any major publication.” He also believesPitchfork‘s image is changing. “The idea that we’re just a bunch of college kids doing a bunch of creative writing exercises, or that we hate everything,” says Plagenhoef, “those are the kinds of old stereotypes that ideally don’t apply anymore.” He believes the site can maintain an “honest, independent voice” while stripping out the obnoxious snark for which it is known.

Like a teenage boy who believes he alone knows what’s worth listening to, Pitchfork often comes across as elitist and self-involved. Schreiber started pitchforkmedia.com in 1996, when he was 19. “I had a very uncomplicated vision,” he says. “It was me writing record reviews and making a living.” Schreiber had no training or experience in writing, and his first efforts were rough. “Odelay is the third best record of 1996 so far,” wrote Schreiber in June of that year, “and as you all know, there can only be one of those.” Schreiber quickly recruited several more writers, and within its first two years online, Pitchfork developed a feeling of “insider” rebelliousness. Even the positive reviews were smug. Commenting on the fact that Elliott Smith’s 1998 release XO was released by a major label, Mark Richard-San wrote: “The indie cred is probably out the window but the tunes are still there, so trust me, teenagers – everything’s going to be just fine.” In 2002, when Schreiber fell in love with Broken Social Scene’s You Forgot It in People – leading to a review that, according to local legend, catapulted the Toronto band to fame in the U.S. – all he could manage was a backhanded compliment. “No one wants to admit that they like a band that goes around calling themselves this,” he wrote, mocking their artwork, the name of their label, and the dedication of the album to “families, friends and loves” [Schreiber’s emphasis].

While several factors, including timing, were at play in making Pitchfork successful, Schreiber believes honesty is a key ingredient. It differs from other music sites, such as All Music and Better Propaganda, in its lack of publicity-like cheerleading, but cannot claim a monopoly on truth telling, with respected sites like Pop Matters and Stylus also publishing critical reviews. Instead, what sets Pitchfork apart is sassy indulgence. The review of the 2002 release, Static Delusions and Stone Still Days by The Catheters, conjures a list of results for a make-believe search in “Classifieds.com” under “The Catheters,” and tucks its critique of the album into an ad selling it second-hand (the list also includes an ad selling “barely-used medical equipment… no questions asked”).

While Schreiber would do well to be mindful of writing that is too smart for itself – the DiCrescenzo fiasco being Pitchfork make-believe at its worst – he seems to be keeping the spirit of that nine-year-old Beck review alive. Pitchfork‘s review of Guero, the new Beck album, reads like a psychiatric patient history, giving “Mr. Hansen” a diagnosis of Multiple Personality Disorder. It’s a long way from “Odelay‘s no loser,” but full of the same attitude. The “doctor’s” prognosis for Beck is guarded – “it seems likely that what worked for the subject almost ten years ago may not be appropriate at this later stage,” the writer opines.

The same may be true for Pitchfork.

While working at the Edmonton Journal in 2002, Lisa Gregoire’s editors told her to “cover the riots” at the G8 Summit in Kananaskis. But there were no riots. Instead, there were peaceful rallies and playful campaigns like, “I’d rather go naked than wear Gap.” Gregoire produced articles about these non-violent demonstrations and about the effects of globalization, all of which got hacked, buried in the back pages, or went missing altogether. So she quit.

“The only reason they sent me,” Gregoire says, “was because they were expecting some kind of violence – a sensational story – and they wanted to make sure I was there to cover it.”

Only when she began writing for an independent alternative news website, AlbertaViews, did Gregoire find editorial freedom. While the site could only offer from 20 to 50 cents per word, the trade-off was worth it.

Independent news sites, like AlbertaViews (also a magazine), offer writers like Gregoire the opportunity to delve into complex subjects and explore multiple perspectives. The sites have recently proliferated on the internet as mainstream media conglomerates continue to congeal. But while it’s easy enough to create a website, it’s difficult to operate one successfully by producing credible and engaging content among the existing clutter.

There are two main challenges that hinder success, says Stephen Kimber, the director of journalism at King’s College in Halifax: finding an audience and finding the resources. “Alternative media don’t attract major advertisers, and readers are often unwilling to pay for information online,” he says. As a result, it’s hard for these sites to generate original noteworthy content.

“Still, these sites are important,” says Kimber, even as clearing-houses for recycled material. “They allow people anywhere to have access to information they might not have known existed otherwise.” Of course, criticisms of alternative media sites abound too. They have been condemned for aligning themselves along particular ideological lines and disturbing the conventional notion of good journalism by foregoing objectivity. But some say this is precisely the appeal.

“I’m interested in somebody who has a point of view similar to mine, because they’ll ask the questions that I want answered,” says Toronto Star-columnist Linda McQuaig. “I don’t want to read my own views confirmed, but I do want my sensibilities addressed in the material I’m reading.”

Ultimately, different independent sites offer varying grades of functional, fresh, and quality content – mostly while making do with a tight budget. Here are four online publications you should know about, and how they measure up.

1. rabble

Functionality: 5/5 Judy Rebick launched rabble on April 18, 2001, with the help of progressive journalists and activists across Canada. The site neatly fuses social and political writing from a range of sources. The top navigation bar allows visitors easy access to columns (by writers like Rick Salutin, McQuaig, and Thomas Walkom), current news (original content or recycled from publications like Asia Times and This Magazine), a discussion forum, a social justice events calendar, and much more.

Freshness: 4/5 The site is highly interactive, with two particularly popular features: “auntie.com,” a political advice column, and “babble,” a popular discussion forum. So far, 90,806 political posts have been added by Layton-lovers and Harper-harpies, and 121,232 comments have been posted about what’s hot in the news. “Babble makes our site unique,” says editor Sharon Fraser. “We’re approaching 8,000 babblers and they continue to be the backbone of our site.” rabble also offers a free email subscription for keeping track of newly posted articles.

Quality: 3.5/5 The site maintains a grassroots feel, often voicing the perspectives of activists who may be discounted by mainstream media. “Our politics are clearly on the left,” says Fraser. “We are sometimes criticized for not telling the other side of the story – but we usually say, ‘This is the other side of the story.'” Still, with limited funds, rabble isn’t producing the original investigative reporting they say they would like to.

Making Do: 4/5 To defy the notion that progressive equals poor, rabble has launched a fundraising campaign called rabble:remix. Rebick and Fraser hope to add a progressive jobs board, classified ads, and more in-depth reporting to upgrade the site. You can check out their progress online; they are tracking donations and have so far raised $35,137 (about 88 per cent of their goal.)

2. Straight Goods

Functionality: 4/5Straight Goods (SG) proclaims to be a “watchdog working for Canadian consumers.” Currently, it offers articles and columns about challenging the church, media scandals, the politics of cancer, and other hot topics. While the site is easily navigable, only the homepage – slightly cluttered with headlines – is free. Paid subscribers have full access to a 4,600-item archive.

Freshness: 3.5/5 The site includes a scant classified ads section and a not-so-booming discussion forum, where a handful of people chat about everything from equal-marriage legislation to corporate crooks. But two unique sections are: “Consumer Power,” which provides information on how to be an ethical consumer; and “Media Files,” which sheds light on the media we consume and how it is produced.

Quality: 3.5/5 “Straight Goods sifts through information and selects the most trustworthy sources and interesting writing,” says editor Penney Kome. “We point readers to information they would never find otherwise.” The site collects material from a wide array of sources, including Vancouver-based The Georgia Straight and the Star, but original, in-depth features are lacking.

Making Do: 4/5 “We can’t afford to pay writers,” says Kome. “We work on a shoestring.” SG makes ends meet by charging for ad space and by making much of its content available only to subscribers. Regular subscriptions cost $30, but a $20 discount is available for students, freelancers, Wal-Mart employees, and other low-income readers. Weekly email bulletins alert readers to newly updated articles – these are available for free.

3. Indymedia

Functionality: 1/5 The Independent Media Center (IMC) was established in 1999 by activists in anticipation of the World Trade Organization protests in Seattle, Washington. Since then, IMCs have been set up by on every continent to provide “radical, accurate, and passionate tellings of truth.” Unfortunately, the site’s homepage looks like one radical mess. Lack of organization and tons of clutter make it hard to access information, as do the oft-broken links.

Freshness: 3.5/5 “One of the big advantages of online publishing is that everyone is potentially a publisher,” says Bill Mitchell, the editor of Poynter Online. “It’s a healthy new dimension.” Indymedia gives anyone the chance to voice an opinion without censure. The global site allows contributors to coalesce against worldwide social and political turmoil.

Quality: 2/5 The site claims, “There is no approval before an article is posted – everything is immediately displayed after submission.” It’s hard to call this kind of reporting credible, but the writing does create a sense of solidarity among international IMC members. Visitors looking for wholly reliable information, though, might want to consult other sources.

Making Do: 1/5 The IMC techies have been trying for years to decentralize the number of IMC sites that are currently occupying one server, without much success. The tech group is asking for allies to donate as much as they can via a “support us” link on the site’s homepage (it works too!). Of course, the request is so buried that it’s understandable why Indymedia is in need of a major cleanup.

4. Electronic Intifada

Functionality: 4/5Electronic Intifada (EI) began in 2001, a year after Palestine’s Second Intifada. This site is packed with information that is organized, accessible, and thorough. It offers visitors historical, legal, cultural, and political information about the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. The four cofounders, who make their homes in Minneapolis (Minnesota), Chicago (Illinois), Holland (Europe), and Vancouver, update the site regularly.

Freshness: 4/5 Dr. Laurie King-Irani, one of the site’s cofounders, says EI‘s most popular aspect is its diaries – live reports from people on the ground in occupied Palestine. The site also offers breaking news reports, media trends (for example, how Palestinian voter turnout was “grossly exaggerated”), reports from advocacy groups like Reporters Without Borders about journalists in danger in the Middle East, techniques activists can use to communicate effectively with the media, and more.

Quality: 3/5 The site began when the founders noticed reports by the mainstream media were completely at odds with reports they received from the ground. “In the beginning, the site was very much activist-oriented,” says King-Irani. “We wanted to give activists the tools to critique media portrayals in a responsible, mature, intelligent way.” The site maintains a Palestinian slant, but cofounder Arjan El Fassed suggests this perspective is missing from mainstream news. “Too often, we aren’t getting the whole story. What we do at EIis deliver the missing part,” he says. “We call it supplementary news, rather than alternative news.”

Making Do: 3/5 In 2002, the EI team decided that instead of critiquing the media, they would become the ideal. But, despite getting between 300,000 and 1 million visitors every month, money has been tight. In 2004, EI‘s expenditure came to about $60,000 and the site survived only because volunteers do most of the work. “EI will not reach its potential without more investment,” says El Fassed. “We need more people on the ground and bigger budgets for editing and translation.”

A little newspaper turned up on my Toronto doorstep at Yonge Street and St. Clair Avenue in September 2004. It was only 16 pages long, scarcely bulky enough to contain the colour flyers tucked inside. Big corporate flyers, too, like Canadian Tire, No Frills, and Pharma Plus. The flyers outweighed the newspaper four to one.

The insignificant-looking paper, called The City Centre Moment, is the newest tentacle in a newspaper behemoth that has reached into every neighbourhood of Toronto except Parkdale, and the inside delivery to condominiums. The behemoth in question, Torstar Corp., owns the largest daily newspaper in Canada, The Toronto Star, and an ever-expanding community newspaper division called Metroland. The Moment is a Metroland paper, and its Toronto division is called Toronto Community News. The Moment is one of eight TCN papers in Toronto, most going by the name “Guardian” or “Mirror.” Most publish several sub-editions.

Deborah Bodine, the managing editor of TCN, says Metroland is committed to serving all areas of Toronto. Flyers are its largest source of revenue and the company bills itself on its website as providing one-stop shopping for multi-market advertisers. Metroland owns 65 papers and distributes 110 editions across Ontario and is the most profitable division of Torstar. Besides community newspapers, Metroland also distributes specialty publications – Forever Young for seniors, City Parent, Renters, an alternative weekly, eye, andMetro, the commuter daily.

Metroland has a reputation for being a category killer – gobbling up independent papers, scooping up ad revenue, and replacing independent editorial voices with its own bland, feel-good copy. That happened in Port Perry and Oakville.

Toronto, however, is the most competitive newspaper market in North America. Here, local community papers hold their own against the giant. Still, it’s hard to say what fresh local editorial points of view are not heard because of Metroland, especially in new neighbourhoods, or those without a strong sense of community. There is a finite amount of reading time and ad revenue in any city.

Despite its size, Metroland does not have a clear shot at overtaking all community voices in Toronto. Looking closely, I find a local paper in every community, whether or not it’s a Metroland product. There’s the St. Lawrence News Bulletin, the East Toronto Courier, the Annex Gleaner. Toronto is alive with newspaper activity, particularly in the older neighbourhoods. Hundreds of cultural, language, ethnic, and community enthusiasts define their interests with community papers. Even small chains that cater to local interests seem to find a home in Toronto neighbourhoods. It is impossible to tally all their numbers, as many independents do not join an association like the Ontario Community Newspaper Association.

Don Lamont, the executive director of the OCNA, says if there is a need, someone will fill it. “There’s a lot of room for good newspapers,” he says. On the other hand, it doesn’t matter who owns the paper – if it isn’t filling some need, it won’t last, he adds.

Just the same, Metroland can last a lot longer than any competitor. The Moment is an easy read. Its editorial hole is filled with full-colour, front-page pictures of children or school sports teams, two to four news stories, a sprinkling of features on local people and events, a few community briefs, and lots and lots of columns. I used to write one about general educational topics for the Scarborough Mirror for a short time. The content of the columns in The Moment is mostly local – a restaurant review, a gallery opening, a local house for sale, a review of local shops.

Bodine says effort was made recently to bring all TCN papers under one design format – except, it turns out, for The Moment. Since it serves an upscale demographic, it was given a more elegant treatment.

The diversity of Toronto’s population, says Bodine, makes it imperative that each of their papers focuses on the unique character of the neighbourhood it serves. That’s true, but only to a small extent. Forty per cent ofThe Moment is family-friendly editorial content, a scant half of which is local. Many stories could run anywhere in Toronto. Reporter Dave Nickle covers Toronto City Hall stories for all TCN papers. Editorials I found in The Moment are written on topics such as the importance of flu shots, the future of the Toronto waterfront, and how Torontonians can help tsunami victims. It’s a mini Toronto Star on a big ad day.

This is not true of the other two community papers in my area, both of which are also owned by smaller chains. The Forest Hill Village Crier is one of eight community Crier newspapers that, together, serve central Toronto residential areas. They’re owned by Multimedia Nova Corp., whose other community papers are in Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese. Managing-editor Eric McMillan says his papers average a 50/50 advertising/editorial ratio, and all editorial content is local. “We wouldn’t do a story about something that’s happening in Toronto general,” he says. Crier content is “local, local, local.”

The Crier papers don’t even bother to report from City Hall unless it concerns a local issue, like a recent tree-cutting bylaw that wasn’t passed soon enough to save some 150-year-old trees on Stayner Avenue. In a recent edition, the Forest Hill Village Crier‘s opinion page supported the St. Clair Avenue-transit-lane decision. In another, McMillan commented on how big developers usually get their way over the residents who want to preserve neighbourhoods. A close examination of several issues reveals some stories of Toronto-wide interest, but the large majority are “local, local, local.”

My other local paper, the monthly Village Post, one of six in a privately owned chain, calls itself a newspaper/magazine blend. It has a glossy celebrity cover and a sprinkling of local well-known columnists, like David Suzuki and Rebecca Eckler. Its content is local and offbeat. Heavy with columns and features on local residents like “How We Met” and “Post Graduates,” it also tells me which streets had break-ins in the past month and gives me thumbnail sketches of new business openings. The Post is currently adding new design features. “We are definitely flourishing,” says editor Ron Johnson. The editors of both publications claim a healthy bottom line.

So does Sheila Blinoff at the Beach Metro Community News – but she has the advantage of capitalizing on volunteer spirit. The Beach Metro is a thriving, old-fashioned, small-town paper. Edited by Blinoff since its inception 32 years ago, it’s a non-profit paper with seven full-time employees and one part-timer. It is very much tied into the community, with 350 delivery volunteers. The oldest, says Blinoff, is a 95-year-old gentleman who delivers to houses that don’t have steps. Blinoff limits the number of ad insertions for each advertiser so the paper can accommodate its waiting list. “We are a bit of an anomaly, a very successful anomaly,” she says. “Competition keeps us on our toes – we’re not complacent.”

The Beach Metro takes on local issues with glee. Blinoff is firmly behind the group of residents backing local heritage designation for a segment of Balmy Beach. Local pro development residents had to go to the Beach Riverdale Town Crier, a sister paper to the Forest Hill Village Crier, to get their views covered. A true community debate was played out in local papers.

So where did the local TCN franchise, the Beach/Riverdale Mirror, land on the discussion? They covered the issue “lightly,” says TCN-reporter Nickle. He points out that the paper covers a larger geographical area than the Beach Metro, and tends to stay away from very local disputes. The TCN is being watched very closely by its competitors. Blinoff says the chain tried to buy out the Beach Metro a few years ago. She acknowledges Metroland’s clout and says it could wipe her out in a flash if it went head to head with her paper by undercutting her ad rates. When she retires, someone will have to be found who is willing to put her life and heart into the paper. She worries the Beach/Riverdale Mirror will make its move then.

So far, The Moment hasn’t made much of a splash in my neighbourhood, averaging two letters to the editor per issue. Often the issues discussed aren’t even local. McMillan, editor of the Forest Hill Village Crier told me he’d heard so little from his newest competitor, he thought maybe they’d closed shop. Not likely. How else would I get my flyers?

The first snowstorm of 2005 can’t stop Alex from speaking his mind. He enters the Speakers Corner booth on Queen Street West in downtown Toronto for the 10th time since Boxing Day. Alex puts a dollar in nickels and dimes into the slot and talks for the full two minutes allotted, responding to the reenactment of a Toronto break in he watched on the news the night before. After a nonsensical rant about Degrassi High and his nonexistent sex life, Alex finally makes his point loud and clear. “Instead of getting kids to reenact crimes, get them into community centres.”

Alex emerges, soaking wet, from the booth’s seat, and tells me he spent $250 on Speakers Corner in the last year alone. But when the show airs – Saturdays at 8:30 p.m. and Mondays at 11:35 p.m. – he doesn’t watch. “I come here to hear my own voice,” he says monotonously. “I’m real lonely and just want to talk to someone.”

As I watch him trudge away through the snow, I’m prompted to put my own dollar into the slot. It will go to the Chumcharitable foundation, an umbrella organization that donates to various causes. After a shameless promotion of this article, I tell Toronto what I just told you. And when my ramblings appear on television two weeks later, I immediately appreciate the booth.

By celebrating the cornerstone of Canadian democracy – our right to free speech – Speakers Corner gives a voice to the voiceless. The CityTV production prides itself on being the original reality show, encouraging Canadians to speak their minds about Canadian issues. “TV stations are always broadcasting out to people,” associate-producer Paul March says. “We allow people to broadcast in.” Speakers Corner is participatory democracy at its finest.

But giving power to the people is nothing new. CityTV named Speakers Corner after a public-discussion forum originating in London’s Hyde Park. The open space in England’s capital city has reserved a place for public powwows for centuries. Home of the infamous Tyburn hanging tree, this symbol of democratic discourse played host to orators such as George Orwell, Vladimir Lenin, Karl Marx, and Friedrich Engels, and later became a suffragette meeting spot. Today, the royal park allows tens of thousands of ordinary citizens yearly to participate in open debate. Standing beneath the Marble Arch, the masses exercise their right to free speech, spouting controversial views atop soapboxes day in and day out.

MuchMusic and the news were all that composed the CityTV empire. The original Speakers Corner asked Torontonians for feedback on the biggest news stories of the day, with responses appearing at the end of City’s nightly news broadcast. But Znaimer wanted more. He asked Peter Whittington – CityTV’s creative director, in charge of on-air promotions at the time – to compile the Speakers Corner footage into a half-hour pilot. Whittington divided the responses into 10 categories, from politics to relationships, opening each segment with a black-and-white comedic scene. The show’s essence remained. “Speakers Corner is true to itself. There’s no varnish on it,” Whittington says. “It’s right off the street and onto television.” A month later, Speakers Corner, as we know it, was born.

Since the first show aired, Speakers Corner has expanded across the globe. CityTV has added Vancouverand Victoria, British Columbia, and Ottawa, London, and Windsor, Ontario to its roster. Mobile booths are sent across Canada to community, cultural, and newsworthy events. Alberta’s variation of the show, Speaker’s Corner Alberta, was launched on Thanksgiving 2003. Like Toronto’s original show, the CHUM conglomerate and Access Media Group production is question-based. “This is your chance, no matter who you are or what you do, to make a difference,” says Jesse McLeod, the producer of Speaker’s Corner Alberta.

And North America isn’t the only place committed to making a difference. City has recently announced the newest addition to the Speakers Corner family – a booth in Bogot?, Colombia’s public square.

“Speakers Corner empowers people who are powerless without it,” says Whittington, the eyes and ears behind Toronto’s show. “They come out and say it when they want something done. The mayor isn’t about to make changes because he heard it on Speakers Corner, but it’s a grassroots movement adding fuel to the fire.”

In fact, Whittington may underestimate the power of the booth – our country’s prime ministers seem to have caught on to Speakers Corner’s potential political influence. Both Jean Chr?tien and Kim Campbell, during the 2000 federal election campaign, stopped by the show to urge Canadians to vote. Whittington explains why this mainly citizen-run forum has such a wide appeal. “In an age when people mistrust the media and politicians, people trust their fellow citizens more than anyone else,” he says.

Whittington adds that any news story promotes a civic response, but it takes about a week for people to get passionate enough to bring their views to the masses. It took even longer for people to respond to the tsunami crisis, but on Saturday, January 8, an entire segment was dedicated to the deluge of reactions.

By providing an open forum for the public, Speakers Corner prides itself on making celebrities out of common citizens. Speaker’s Corner Alberta ends each show with ordinary folk showing off their best dance moves, and The Barenaked Ladies, The Devil’s Advocates, and Scott Speedman made their debuts in the Queen Street booth. (Toronto also boasts star appearances by Mike Myers and Sam Roberts, while Nelly Furtado, Choclair, Michael Bubl?, and Canadian Idol Ryan Malcolm performed in front of Speaker’s Corner Alberta’s camera at the 2004 Junos.)

Speakers Corner lures regular contributors like flies, and these regulars incite viewers to tune in each week. Toronto’s Jason Sensation became a familiar face after starting his Soul Mate Search on Speakers Corner in the summer of 2004. When I saw him strolling along Queen Street with a young lady, I knew his search had ended. But he still appears on the show week after week to promote wrestling in Welland. “I just love seeing myself on TV,” he says.

Those who watch the show – 18-to-35-year-olds and a good number of children and seniors – know that, like celebrities, ordinary people don’t say the most intelligent things. “Our regulars often speak with conviction on things that are completely inaccurate,” McLeod of Speaker’s Corner Alberta says. “It’s very editorial, but a columnist or anchor wouldn’t get the facts wrong.” Lesley Thompson, McLeod’s production assistant, agrees. She compares the regulars to bloggers: “It’s a visual blog via television, where people talk about whatever they feel like,” she says.

But that’s not the only way Speakers Corner can be likened to a blog – the show can now also be found online. The website provides clips from previous shows, a discussion board where fans can chat, and a comments sections that promises to “post the best of the best right here, for the entire world to see!”

The show?s most recent addition, Speakers Corner text messaging, allows viewers to have their say from the comfort of home. For 50 cents a pop, anyone anywhere can dial 24724 from a cell phone and the message appears on screen almost immediately.

Still, Speakers Corner thrives on its local content and local audience. “The broad spectrum of people watching us and contributing to us gives the show a hometown, historical, old-world flavour,” Toronto Speakers Corner-producer-and-director Paula Virany says. Years ago, Whittington tells me, there was talk of integrating the local Speakers Corner to the national level. “But it never went anywhere,” he says, “because the essence of the thing is local.”

Speakers Corner is a place where the community reigns as king and the everyman has his say. People like Alex gain a voice on this lonely planet, while others spread their views to anyone who cares to listen. Still others take over their TV sets in an act of liberation. “How would these people ever get their message out otherwise?” says Tamara Poirier, the associate producer of Speakers Corner Vancouver. “You say your piece and the city hears what you have to say almost immediately. It’s amazing.”

“Family Fashions for Spring!” reads a bold headline in the April 2005 issue of Homemakers. The page’s layout is similar to countless others in consumer magazines: visuals with captions, columns, and service-oriented blurbs about the latest in fashion trends. But there’s a crucial difference – the story wasn’t put together by Homemakers, but Levi Strauss and Wal-Mart.

An advertorial is a text-heavy advertisement with a service journalism orientation – advertising a health-care-related product alongside advice on living a healthy lifestyle, for example. Although advertorials are intended to look like editorial layouts – copy, heads and decks, columns, visuals – they should be in a different typeface, with different design elements, and clearly marked as advertising.

Advertorials are usually supplied by advertisers, but now in-house creative teams of artists and writers at companies like Transcontinental Media and Rogers Publishing are working with company brand managers to refine advertising messages. “We prefer an advertorial to be designed to reflect the look of the book, so that the reader is more comfortable with it,” says T.J. Flynn, Transcontinental senior vice-president of advertising sales. “But it’s still recognized as a piece of advertorial and not editorial.”

Canadian magazine advertising revenues are reaching record high numbers, so it’s not surprising that the relationship between advertisers and publications has shifted. A Statistics Canada report shows that in 2003 advertising revenues soared to $610 million, representing eight years of solid growth. In 2004, this trend continued, says Gary Garland, president of Magazines Canada. In addition to larger revenues for magazine publishers, when advertorials are done properly, he says, “They can be a wonderful service and of interest to readers.”

At Chatelaine, advertorials must be distinguished from editorial content through “clear placement of advertiser logos, clearly different fonts and design, and/or a clear ‘advertisement’ slug,” says Kerry Mitchell, Chatelaine‘s publisher. “It is the publisher’s decision whether that criteria has been met.”

Advertisers recognize that successful magazines develop a relationship with readers and want to leverage it to their benefit. “It’s supposed to be a win-win situation,” says Bill Shields, Masthead‘s editor-in-chief. A magazine earns revenue and an advertiser attracts readers to its message.

But magazines, like journalists, are only as good as their integrity. When a company demands that its product be featured in a page that mimics the magazine’s design, it threatens a magazine’s integrity – a no-win situation. To appease editors who feel that advertising is encroaching on editorial space, the Canadian Society of Magazine Editors (CSME) created a set of guidelines in the late 1990s. According to CSME, “The integrity and long-term viability of magazines depends on a clear distinction between editorial and advertising, or both lose credibility. Eventually, so too will the magazine.” The organization took its cue from the American Society of Magazine Editors (ASME).

Both ASME and CSME identified a number of specifics, including: publications should identify advertising that contains text or design elements similar to the editorial’s appearance; an ad’s layout, design, and typeface should not deliberately mimic the publication’s design; advertising pages shouldn’t be placed adjacent to editorial material in a manner that implies that the advertiser has influenced content; and editorial teams shouldn’t be required to prepare advertising sections. Unfortunately, CSME guidelines are too general to address recent issues, like what happens in the case of shopping magazines and custom publications that promote advertisers’ products in its editorial pages?

In September 2004, http://rrj.journalism.ryerson.ca/?p=2833 “Do you hear that?” asks George Stroumboulopoulos, catching everyone’s attention on set. “The groove here is ridiculous.” It’s only minutes to airtime for CBC Newsworld’s new current affairs program, The Hour, and the 32-year-old host is grooving to The Jimi Hendrix Experience’s 37-year-old “Voodoo Child.” He taps his feet, snaps his fingers, and even breaks out [...]]]>

“Do you hear that?” asks George Stroumboulopoulos, catching everyone’s attention on set. “The groove here is ridiculous.” It’s only minutes to airtime for CBC Newsworld’s new current affairs program, The Hour, and the 32-year-old host is grooving to The Jimi Hendrix Experience’s 37-year-old “Voodoo Child.” He taps his feet, snaps his fingers, and even breaks out into a robot dance.

“I’m not really the CBC type,” Stroumbo admits. (His friends and colleagues often refer to him as Stroumbo, or George S., or even Georgie.) But when three executives approached him last fall with the opportunity to create his own news show, the former MuchMusic VJ couldn’t resist. “I remember doing a story about Britney’s gum for sale on eBay,” he says, “and I started to lose my mind.” After a five-year stint with CHUM Television, he was ready for the change.

“George is like a shark,” says Alan Cross, program director at 102.1 The Edge, who worked with Stroumbo in the late 1990s. “He wants to keep moving forward.”

While some say The Hour is a step in the right direction, critics argue that Stroumbo is a kid doing a grown-up’s job. “It’s to be expected that the CBC would continually try to rejuvenate the talent,” says John Doyle, television critic for The Globe and Mail. “But part of the problem is that when The Hour does what it does in that fast and flippant manner, it’s a disservice to CBC’s journalism.”

Although Stroumbo swears he won’t change his personality, some think that’s just what the show needs.

In 1997, when producers at The Edge didn’t have a job for Stroumbo, they created a position overnight in order to hire him. The young announcer – who then wore his hair in a long ponytail – quickly made a name for himself at Toronto’s “New Rock” format station. He was as passionate about news as he was music. “I learned about apartheid because of Bruce Springsteen’s guitarist,” he says. “I learned about race wars in England and police brutality because of The Clash. If you want to learn about Vietnam, you listen to Dylan. To me, music helps contextualize news.”

One day, Stroumbo poked fun at a band on the air, and thought he would get fired for it. “I was always wondering when my boss would say, ‘You can’t do that,'” he recalls. “But I did it anyway.”

Instead of getting the boot, Stroumbo was given a promotion to host a show called Live in Toronto. “One of the things about George is that when you listen to him, you realize he isn’t an ordinary announcer,” says Cross. “He has a very casual style about him that makes him really stand out from everybody else.” Within a few days, Stroumbo replaced the previous host, who had been there for nearly 20 years. “I remember leaving the office saying, ‘It’s on now,'” Stroumbo says. And it was.

In 2000, producers at MuchMusic hired him to do exactly what he was doing at The Edge: be himself. “The fact is, MuchMusic isn’t afraid of hiring people who know Darfur from Danang,” says Alex Strachan, national television critic for CanWest News Service, “or who, when asked to name a Canadian hero, come up with somebody as funky but seemingly unhip as Tommy Douglas.”

The New Music – which Stroumbo refers to as the Cadillac of music shows – had an opening, and he snatched it. “What I brought to that show was what the show had running through it,” he says. “I hopefully carried on the tradition of not taking the easy way out, giving a fuckin’ shit about what you’re talking about, and really loving this.”

Now at CBC, he still loves his work. Sitting in a swivel chair in the boardroom with his writers and producers, Stroumbo anxiously discusses the main story for tonight’s show, and he can’t sit still. He crosses and uncrosses his legs, peels the sticker off his Snapple Iced Tea bottle, cups his chin in his hand, and nods cheerfully at everyone’s comments. When he comes up with an idea, he pops out of his chair and grins with excitement.

“Here’s the deal with Stroumboulopoulos,” says Strachan. “He’s articulate, he’s energetic, he isn’t afraid of challenging people in on-air interviews, and he doesn’t suck up. He seems confident without being arrogant, and that’s a rare combination. I actually believe, if anything, he may be underrated.”

After the meeting, Stroumbo sits at his cubicle and sifts through his mail. He opens a letter from ideaCity, an annual Canadian conference that brings together influential personalities to brainstorm ideas for changing the world. Stroumbo has been invited as a guest speaker and as he ponders the idea, his publicist approaches and tells him he needs to head to another meeting. Stroumbo flicks the letter onto his desk, next to his half-eaten lunch and pile of unopened mail, and rushes off.

Two hours later, in the makeup room, he recites his lines while spewing his own thoughts on the news to anyone around him who will listen. He then rubs a greasy lump of Murray’s wax through his hair, attaches a microphone to his shirt, and looks at himself in the mirror. Wearing his classic outfit – black shirt, low-rise Diesel jeans, silver-studded belt, and bright Adidas shoes – Stroumbo smiles and heads to the set.

The Hour, which premiered in January, takes a look at the day’s news through small bits and segments. Strachan believes it is an incredibly ambitious, but admirable effort made by the CBC to stay fresh and relevant. “For all the whinging and whining I’ve heard about The Hour from older people – my father, for example, in his 80s, just cannot abide by it, either the show itself or its host – it’s achieving what it’s trying to do, which is to put a youthful, irreverent spin on the news, but without the snide condescension of The Daily Show.”

Jennifer Dettman, executive producer, helped create the show’s concept by targeting audiences with Stroumbo’s youthful personality. “I suppose that’s cool,” says Stroumbo, “because for the longest time, getting people under the age of 15 engaged on a Newsworld program was rare.” Doyle, on the other hand, argues that no program on television should be so outlandish and different that it alienates a portion of the viewers by age group. But Stroumbo denies that the show is doing that. “People say the show is aimed at getting younger viewers,” he says. “But if it were, why would I interview a holocaust survivor?”

With minutes to go until the show goes live, the producers stand around the set, looking relaxed, laughing every now and then at Stroumbo’s jokes. “George is more like a kid who is trying to do it, but doesn’t have the experience or depth of knowledge to get it right,” says Doyle. On-air and in person, he uses words like “cool” and “dude” all the time. “It’s irritating to watch,” Doyle explains. “And it gives the impression that George doesn’t have much of a vocabulary.”

But he does have a loyal audience. According to Joe Andrews, his former instructor at Humber College’s radio broadcasting program, Stroumbo is personable, genuine, and always a gentleman. “He certainly speaks for a lot of people across the country,” Andrews says. “He has a huge following because of his MuchMusic persona.”

Stroumbo says he wants to stay true to his character. “A lot of people thought the CBC would take me and change me,” he begins. “But I wouldn’t do that. When you make a decision to hire me, it means there are some things the show’s not going to be. It’s not going to be the same old, same old. That’s just not my personality.” But for those who have followed Stroumbo since he started in the business nearly a decade ago, it seems wherever he goes, he in effect gives the same old, same old. “He’s too much of a fan to lose his music personality,” says Cross. “It will always be there in some form.”

Still, Andrews believes the show is on the cutting edge. He calls The Hour a form of reflective journalism. “It’s a way of targeting your information to the audience that you’re serving accurately,” he explains. It’s what gets people talking about important issues.

“We really look to make sure that we cover everything that’s happening in the world,” Stroumbo says. “For every one hour, we want to hit a range of emotions.” But Doyle thinks the show is trying to do too much. “The problem arises when the light and breezy style of journalism is used to tackle subjects that are serious, and require a more concentrated and thorough examination,” he says. “For example, the situation in Northern Ireland was explained in 60 seconds and there were several things wrong.” Although Stroumbo admits the show is still developing, he is proud of its diverse nature. “I love the idea that we continually move it forward,” he says. “I don’t want to ever narrow the focus.”

Between segments, one of the show’s guests is worried about how he sounded on-air. Stroumbo assures him the interview went well: “As long as you speak like a human being, I’m happy,” he says. “Thanks for being on the show, dude.”

At times, Stroumbo says, this is real journalism. But his music personality will always be a part of the show. And for now, it’s working. “My honest feeling at this stage is that CBC probably needs Stroumboulopoulos more than Stroumboulopoulos needs the CBC,” notes Strachan. “Could the clock be ticking on the burnout factor? We’ll just have to wait and see.”

In the meantime, Stroumbo sticks to advice he learned early in his career from Canadian radio guru Bob Mackowycz: Never talk down to your audience, and fuck ’em if they don’t get it.

On January 23, 1975, Quebec police finally cornered the elusive local gangster Section Rouge Media, Inc. Now, all that remains of this former “Quebec institution” is a hefty archive, guarded until recently by a strange old man named Gus.

All? Police was founded in 1953, when the Catholic Church dominated Quebec life and Union Nationale-leader Maurice Duplessis ruled the province with an iron fist. Duplessis’s authoritarian government, known for opposing free speech, strongly dissuaded crime coverage, and the dailies conceded. While they covered jury trials extensively, newspapers marginalized local crime and buried murders deep within their pages in the days following the event.

“It was considered trashy for the media to cover crime,” says Desmarais. And even when they did, newspapers rarely included pictures. During the Great Darkness, while Duplessis stifled the freedom of the press, All? Police shed light onto local crime while the dailies shied away.

The magazine littered its front pages with corpses and used language reserved for pocket crime novels. In 1987, while reviewing Quebec tabloids, The Globe and Mail‘s Oakland Ross highlighted two literary devices, which he noticed were repeatedly used in All? Police. One was the sickening crescendo – “Ninety-two knife blows for a funeral director … a crime of rare sadism … the blood squirted to the ceiling.” Another was the bathetic undercut – “She killed her husband at his mistress’s place… She came all the way from Ottawa on a Voyageur bus just for that.”

Because of All? Police‘s explicit content, clergy in the province urged Quebecers not to buy the tabloid – so everyone did. In its first decade, the magazine claimed a circulation of 150,000 per week.

The success of All? Police lay with its historical context – staunch Catholicism and the hunger to transcend it, lax libel laws, and an old-school camaraderie between the police and journalists. But the Quiet Revolution, triggered by Duplessis’s death in 1959, ushered in an era of secularization and liberalization of Quebec society. With it, crime news suddenly became mainstream, as did the rules governing its coverage; libel laws became more strict and the police started hiring their own spokespersons. In the authoritarian Quebec society of the 1950s, All? Police was the avant-garde, but the new liberalism would eventually render it anachronistic.

The All? Police formula was simple, says former-editor Bernard Tetrault: send one reporter and one photographer to every murder scene. Because other newspapers were not writing about crime in the magazine’s heyday, there was little competition; the tabloid could cover every crime that occurred within miles of its Montreal offices at a leisurely pace.

“All? Police has essentially covered every murder in the province since 1953,” says Tetrault. Journalists hopped in their cars, drove for a few days, filed their reports, and the story appeared five to 10 days after the events. There was no technology enabling journalists to go live from the scene, so there was little impetus for anyone to get there fast. Nor did All? Police have to look too hard for local crime stories – Quebec police usually tipped them off.

In the mid-1960s, a fire at its original office site forced the magazine to look for a new home. It found one conveniently located across from the headquarters of the Quebec Provincial Police (the S?ret? du Qu?bec), where every major crime was first called in. The tabloid had plenty of access to QPP officers and, to a lesser extent, the Montreal Police Service. Michel Auger, Journal de Montr?al‘s veteran crime reporter, says an ongoing joke circulated among journalists – police officers that arrived in Montreal with a suspect would stop at the All? Police offices first for a few drinks before proceeding to the police station.

“That was the idea behind All? Police,” says Auger. “The crime reporters and the police had a relationship.” Typically, the police would call the magazine and provide them with the address of that day’s crime scene. Some of the officers even brought the reporters with them to the crime site. In fact, according to Auger, All? Police had two photographers from the S?ret? du Qu?bec on their payroll, although the department’s spokesperson denies these allegations.

The magazine also used freelancers, knowing they could not cover the entire province from Montreal. This corps of freelancers patrolled the streets of Quebec and on some occasions arrived at a crime scene before the police.

Despite its reputation for sound journalism, being a tabloid meant that All? Police was usually greeted with skepticism. That changed with the Quebec Police Commission’s 1975 inquiry into organized crime. Law enforcement’s thorough investigation into syndicates, which All? Police had been reporting on for decades, validated the magazine’s raison d’?tre. Unfortunately, this was to be the tabloid’s final coup before its slow descent into obscurity.

In the early 1980s, the sales of All? Police started to plummet. Circulation went from 150,000 in the magazine’s heyday to a mere 20,000. Without the shackles of Duplessis’s rule, Quebec dailies, like Le Journal, started to compete with the weekly tabloid in earnest. Local television and radio got into the act, too.All? Police had found its niche in the Quebec countryside, but the growing number of radio and TV stations in effect bridged the gap separating these communities from Montreal.

Desmarais believes the magazine’s precipitous drop in sales was also due to staff’s diminished access to police. Suddenly, public-relations personnel were telling officers not to speak to reporters. Cops became more vigilant and less loose-lipped around crime scenes. “Today you have to move behind a yellow ribbon and stay behind there,” says Desmarais. “And libel laws are so much tougher today for those who dare step over the line.” To make up for the loss of its best sources, All? Police hired outsiders with good contacts – mostly with mobsters. Once the magazine started associating with the mob, says Auger, it lost its remaining police sources.

Desmarais took over All? Police in 1984 with the goal of improving the magazine’s readership. Previously, he had been editor at Photo Police!, a less-gory tabloid, also owned by Section Rouge Media, and brought toAll? Police the sexual side of its sister publication. “In the ’80s, it was more pornography than police stories,” says Auger. “I was still buying the paper, but now it was with a brown paper bag on my head.”

In 2003, Desmarais revamped All? Police to commemorate its 50th anniversary. All? Police hit newsstands in November stuffed with glossy paper, celebrity gossip, and horoscopes. He was attempting to compete withQuebecor’s celebrity magazines by toning down the tabloid’s crime coverage, thereby gaining display space in supermarkets.

But All? Police‘s foray into grocery stores proved unsuccessful. On July 12, 2004, Section Rouge Media, pulled the plug. A half-century of crime journalism now sits in the archives of the Section Rouge Media offices in Longueuil, Quebec. Lawyers and journalists, who use it as a reference library, plunder sporadically.

“The success of All? Police lay in its archives,” says Auger. Older issues pack the office’s grey filing cabinets, while those since 1993, are digitalized. Until recently, a short, heavy-set man who went by the name Gus guarded the archives. Auger says he never knew whether that was the “bizarre keeper’s” real name or not. He was a friendly guy who kept mostly to himself, very serious but one who enjoyed a hearty joke. Prior to computerization, the archives were manual. Gus knew every picture and every piece of paper, and could find anything within a few minutes. “He was really wrapped up in the archives,” says Auger. “He knew every story and every person in the judicial system – he was as fast as a computer.”

Whether or not the magazine’s archives will be maintained remains uncertain. The elderly Gus retired recently, and without him, ready access to the shadiest corners of All? Police‘s past is lost.

Trans fat is tasty, common, and, according to some experts, poison. Found in cookies, French fries, and even some baby formulas, it is suspected of causing everything from clogged arteries to Alzheimer’s. But if you’ve been watching television stations like CTV or reading newspapers like The Globe and Mail in the past year, you already knew that.

You probably also already know about the sudden media flare-up against trans fat that almost instantly placed food manufacturers on the defensive. The media has paid heavy attention to a new labelling law, coming into effect in January 2006 which will see most producers of pre-packaged foods having to list the amount of trans fat on a product’s “nutrition facts” table. On its own, this new law is not a strong enough incentive for food companies to eliminate trans fat from their products. Food manufacturers are well aware that most of us don’t consider nutritional information when buying pre-packaged food. But the critical coverage of trans fat by media outlets has quickly forced them into action. Coverage of the law suggested the need to do more – like enact the outright banning of trans fat – rather than just label them.

In August 2003, CTV’s medical correspondent, Avis Favaro, and producer Jenny Wells pre-designed a series of stories for CTV and the Globe based on the testing of food for trans fat. The testing was designed to show people that significant amounts of trans fat were in the food they were eating, like the popular children’s snack Goldfish.

“You can label trans fat,” says Favaro, “but if people don’t know what trans fats are, it doesn’t mean anything. We were trying to make something that was going to be labelled relevant to people, and then raise the question, ‘Do they need to be there?'”

Food manufacturers use trans fat because, when compared to other types of fat, it is inexpensive, makes food taste better, and last longer. Found mostly in processed grain products and deep-fried food, trans fat comes from a chemical process called “partial hydrogenation,” whereby liquid oils are converted into a semi-solid form. The consumption of trans fat is strongly linked to raised cholesterol levels, heart disease, and possibly even lends to stunting fetal growth and diabetes.

“The food industry has known for a long time that trans fat is unhealthy,” says Toronto-dietician Rosie Schwartz. It has gotten away with it because, until recently, consumers haven’t contested. “The public has wanted products that have a shelf-life of forever,” she continues, “and so when we as consumers want things to last forever, it does come at a cost.” Schwartz believes that if Canadians are to reduce the amount of trans fat they eat, both consumers and the food industry need to make changes.

Those changes started within weeks of CTV and the Globe‘s initial reports, as other media outlets jumped on the trans fat bandwagon. Public-health reporter Andr? Picard, who wrote the trans fat stories in the Globe, doesn’t believe that the Globe/CTV team had a big impact on the trans-fat coverage, but he does agree that it certainly had an impact on how consumers looked at their food. “To me,” says Picard, “the most positive aspect about the trans fat coverage is that it has prompted people to read labels more carefully; it has helped create more informed consumers.”

These more informed consumers demanded trans-fat-free options and in response, Burlington-basedVoortman cookies announced its commitment to switch to trans-fat-free products. In April 2004, Voortman’s became the first major cookie company to drop trans fat from its list of ingredients. This strategic move came a little over half a year after the first negative trans fat reports appeared.

According to Adrian Voortman, vice-president and son of founder and president Harry Voortman, the company has gotten a lot of support for eliminating trans fat from its products, particularly from doctors and mothers concerned about their children’s health. Adrian has six kids of his own, and he “absolutely” feels better about his family eating Voortman cookies. Plus, “They taste better now.”

Many other cookie manufacturers’ sales are down because of the low-carb trend. Since going trans fat free, though, Voortman’s sales have increased, despite an almost 10-per-cent price increase as a result of using a non-hydrogenated blend of canola, soybean, sunflower, and palm oils in lieu of partially hydrogenated oil. “I have a feeling that a lot of companies were already thinking about [eliminating trans fat from their products],” says Favaro, “and that the pieces and the articles in the Globe may have pushed them to realize that maybe it would be a really positive marketing tool to actually get rid of them.”

Manuel Arango, the manager of government relations at the Heart and Stroke Foundation of Canada, agrees. “The food industry is always reacting to market pressure,” he says, “and this is no different.” Arango is pleased that the sharp media coverage is causing the food industry to rethink trans fat, but he wishes that the media had done a better job at explaining why trans fat is dangerous.

Picard also has mixed feelings. “People can lose sight of the big picture,” he says. “It’s great that they are taking trans fats out of foods – unless of course they replace it with something as bad or worse.” He recalls the media frenzy over low-fat foods – where the fat usually had been replaced with sugar, which meant the new version was no healthier than the original.

Stephen Cunnane, a former University of Toronto professor of nutritional science, also dislikes too much attention being focused on one aspect of food. Although in favour of eliminating trans fat from diets, he doesn’t anticipate gaining much advantage in the long run. “We’ve oversimplified the relationship between trans fatty acids and heart disease,” he says, believing that good nutrition and good health is more of a lifestyle issue. “There’s no single component.”

The media, which solicit information from people like Cunnane, “sometimes oversimplify the relationship between a dietary component and a disease risk,” he says. When interviewed, he tries to put the issues in perspective. If what he has to say doesn’t make the story, he doesn’t mind. “But most of us have egos,” he continues, “and most of us want to see our names in print, so most of us want to help you make your story sell.”

While the story sold to consumers did emphasize fear over fact, the end results were positive. Large numbers of Canadians now know what trans fats are, and more companies are cutting back or eliminating trans fat from their products.

In fact, it might be argued that this is one of those rare stories that ends with everyone looking good – the government for enacting the new law, the food manufacturers for responding to consumer pressure, and the media for bringing an underexposed danger to light.