Thanks to the revolution of the 60s, and the major role played by federal and state governments, Australia has created one of the most vital artistic movements in the world. The originality, the lustful energy, the apparent lack of inhibition; and in the case of indigenous art, the arcane mystery; all these things are matters of astonishment to other countries, that so much talent comes from so small a population. And yet it is not being used as a social force for the public good. The artist’s voice, which has always been a clarion call for change, is today hardly heard in the community. The art patrons are heard, the government servants are heard, celebrities litter the newspapers. But when it comes to the big issues, the issues of God and Death, as Phillip Adams would call them, the artist is silent.

There are several reasons for this. For one, the government does not understand the issues; but the newspapers also share a responsibility. I would like to outline briefly how newspapers have changed in my lifetime. I did my cadetship on The West Australian in the 1950s when it was a paternalistic organisation with a strong sense of rectitude. Fact and opinion were rigorously separated; opinion was permitted only by specialists with by-lines; and in editorials. The checking of facts, correct spelling and grammar, and impartiality were the basis of our training.

In 1967 I was living in Sydney when my experience as drama reviewer on The West Australian gained me the job of national drama critic of the fledgling Australian newspaper. I was contracted to write two columns a week. To show you how things have changed I only have to tell you that it was then a part-time job to cover the whole of Australia. There was then no arts page — my column was published on the leader page — part of the real-life world — and I shared the space in turn with the music, art and film reviewers.

The influence of The Australian’s columns brought about the end of overnight reviewing. Offset printing was introduced, quickly followed by computer setting and the end of the linotype operator. The computer transformed the newspaper industry forever — and not entirely for the better.

The first thing that happened was the break-up of the reporter’s room cameraderie. The scattering of journalists had a profound impact upon the dynamic of their relationship with the office — and upon the solidarity of the Australian Journalists’ Association. We could now phone in our copy. We seldom met our colleagues, we lost direct control over sub-editing. The second result of the computer was the downsizing of staff. Fewer reporters were now needed. A leaner, more efficient, more profitable newspaper could be achieved. There were big sackings in the 70s at all levels of newspaper production.

And so began the era of the newspaper columnist. It soon became apparent that with fewer reporters covering more events the quality was becoming thinner. This in due course began to be supplied by the freelance columnist — a good economic use of resources. At the same time the loosening up of the market began a rapid shakeup of ownership which further eroded the stability of editorial management and the understanding of journalistic ethics.

By the mid-80s in the arts field there were almost no reviewers left who regarded themselves as career journalists: that is, as someone trained to bring you, within their capacity, all the news that’s fit to print. Other sections also began to employ contributors. Freelance workers are powerless workers within the heirarchy; therefore their allegiance, their power base if they have one, must lie elsewhere. Today a high proportion of our most influential columnists no longer owe their livelihood to the paper that publishes them. In some cases their name is more important than what they write. Newspapers are becoming dependent upon them.

The second major influence for change has been the rise of the publicist — known as public relations until the 60s. By the mid-70s arts editors were appointed to handle the lobbyists; the arts pages were devised initially to shield the news editor from the need to recognise the news value of anything to do with the arts; and the outcome is that news value is no longer an imperative. the imperative is consumerism. Nowadays it is generally no longer the arts critics’ prerogative to gather news or comment upon it. On the contrary, their principal task, and that of the arts editors, is to defend themselves from the publicity machine. Only once or twice in my seven years at The Australian — and that in the last year — did I write a promotional article. Now the bulk of the arts pages is what I call ‘promises, promises’ and the reviews which follow a day or two later are very often old, unwelcome, news.

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