Finding out about the origins of words can be a useful tool for generating new ideas when all other inspiration fails. So as I was thinking what to write this month it occurred to me that the word magazine’ is an odd word where does it come from, and what language originated it?
Like so many words in English it can have several meanings, which is particularly useful when it comes to formulating crossword clues: eg fire off a response to the May edition (8)’ The answer is of course, magazine’, because it can mean both an appliance for feeding a gun with cartridges as well as what you are now reading. And before that in the 16th century it could mean a store-house for arms. The word itself comes from the Arabic verb to store up’. There is something rather moving about the idea that what was first thought of in English as a place for keeping weapons became through the metaphorical power of language much more commonly used as a word to describe a store house of information and ideas, proving yet again that the pen is mightier than the sword.
It is to be hoped that you regard this magazine as a well provided store house. It is a moving tribute to our editor Judy East, who will soon be giving up this role, that I receive so many appreciative comments from neighbouring (and not-so-neighbouring as it gets passed on) clergy and parishioners about the quality of what you can read here.
And that isn’t so true these days of most of the magazines for which you actually have to pay. A visit to the doctors or dentists can open up all too depressing storehouses of gossip, innuendo, prejudice, ignorance, and propaganda, perpetuating the latest newspaper headlines far beyond their deserved longevity. And yet we are told these things are in the public interest’. It is of course in our interest to have a richly stocked store-house of ethical, accurate and truthful reporting by the press. These things will legitimately interest us where they seriously affect our lives, our liberty and our well-being. But public interest’ is now so broadly defined as to be almost useless as a concept.
Our Press Complaints Commission states that the public interest involves, but is not limited to: detecting or exposing crime or serious impropriety; protecting public health and safety; or preventing the public from being misled by an action or statement of an individual or an organisation.’ It is a pity that the limits beyond these admirable principles are not more clearly defined when it comes to ensuring the privacy and dignity of the individual; by which I mean that the public ought to have rights of protection against being told far more than we should ever reasonably want to know about the private life of members of the royal family, footballers or fly by night TV celebrities. Their behaviour is only of public interest’ if their position in society enables them to exercise influence and power over the rest of us.
Unfortunately, in most cases, the only influence they do wield is given them by the media that publicises their activities. Why should there only be laws to protect the freedom of the press’s speech but none that are worth anything to protect the people from the press.’ (Mark Twain)
. In order that we may have a free press in an open and democratic society do we have to put up with all the culturally demeaning, prurient, and morally dubious material that is smuggled into the media store house under the pretext of public interest’? Where does the taste for such material come from? Does it appeal to a mixture of unhealthy curiosity, envy and resentment? Does it appeal to imaginations which are less and less able to distinguish between fantasy and reality until a strong dose of the latter hits us in the face and brings us to our senses? Are we so bored by life that we need such tales of the rich and (in)famous to stimulate us and of what possible value is such stimulus?
Of course we will be told that these things sell newspapers it’s our fault if we didn’t want to read these things they wouldn’t be published. And perhaps readers of this magazine will say we don’t buy that sort of paper or magazine so it’s not our fault. Which may negatively be true but still leaves us with a duty to question our responsibility as a Christian community for the culture in which we live and of which we are a part. How might any one element in a society gain influence beyond its natural boundaries so as to enrich, fertilise, and support others in finding more creative sustenance in what they read and are entertained by? If the prevailing atmosphere of our culture is not to be taken over by cynicism and prurience some counterbalance is urgently needed. What might a Christian influenced media look like? Perhaps the following guidelines might apply:
– that tragedy, suffering and disaster should be described as simply and accurately as possible without dramatisation or overemphasis on emotion the question, what are you feeling?’ should be banned.
– that information should always take precedent over opinion and that such information should always be given with a view to broadening the horizons, concerns and social and political commitments of the reader;
– that through what we read we learn actually to like the human condition and find it funny, tender, fascinating, quirky and exuberant without our needing the stimulus of artificially concocted dramas;
– that we learn to distinguish between the person and the role and consequently treat public servants with a degree of courtesy and respect for their office so that they learn that respect themselves and treat us with less of the contempt with which the media often treats them;
– that we celebrate skill, intelligence, generosity, courage, and creativity wherever we find it;
– that we revive Lord Thompson of Fleet’s belief that it is part of the social mission of every great newspaper to provide a refuge and a home for the largest possible number of salaried eccentrics.’
If none of these principles can be made to apply elsewhere, at least we hope to maintain them (sadly without salaries) in this magazine and in the coming months we shall be appealing for articles which might illustrate any or all of them.
With my love and prayers,
The Vicar writes
Stephen Tucker