Ethics in Journalism? Mate, I’ve Got Stories That’d Make WikiLeaks Blush!
By Claudia Fontaine
Note: This article is a part of an ongoing test of our Maxys Publishing System = a "humanity centric - Ai Enhanced Transformation" system currently in development.
Scene 1: The Studio Interview
I’m sitting across from Barney Dawson, legendary frontman of The Midnight Larrikins, watching him wrestle with his vintage leather jacket like it’s trying to escape. The studio air conditioning is having an existential crisis, much like journalism ethics in the digital age.
“So Barney,” I begin, deploying my signature interested eyebrow raise, “what’s your take on journalism ethics these days?”
He looks up, his weathered face cracking into a grin that’s seen more stories than a library with attention deficit disorder. “Listen, love,” he starts, leaning forward with the intensity of a man about to share nuclear launch codes, “back in my day, journalism ethics meant making sure you spelled the band’s name right on the poster and didn’t print photos where we looked too… shall we say, ‘chemically optimistic.'”
“These days,” he continues, gesturing with his coffee mug (his fifth since breakfast), “with all this AI and virtual reality stuff, it’s like trying to navigate a mosh pit wearing a blindfold while riding a unicycle… backwards… in thongs.”
Scene 2: The Green Room Revelations
We’ve moved to the green room, which is actually painted blue – a fact that Barney finds hilarious every single time he mentions it (approximately every 3.5 minutes).
“You want to know about journalism ethics?” He pulls out his phone, showing me a holographic news article about The Midnight Larrikins’ infamous 1985 Sydney Opera House incident. “See this? AI-enhanced journalism they call it. The original story said we released three possums into the orchestra pit. The AI ‘fact-checked’ it to thirty possums! I mean, where would we even get thirty possums? We were musicians, not wildlife traffickers!”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “Though I must admit, thirty would’ve made a better story. The AI knows how to spice things up, I’ll give it that.”
Scene 3: The Coffee Shop Confession
Later, at his favorite café (chosen specifically because they still serve “coffee that tastes like coffee, not a unicorn’s dream journal”), Barney’s scrolling through news on his phone, occasionally muttering “Strewth” under his breath.
“Here’s the thing about modern journalism ethics,” he says, putting down his flat white with the dramatic flair of a soap opera veteran. “Back in ’85, if a journo wrote something dodgy about you, it might reach a few thousand people. Now? One wrong tweet and suddenly you’re more viral than a Christmas party sneeze in a packed elevator.”
He pauses, considering his next words carefully. “I’ve been on both sides of this ethical tightrope, love. Been the wild rocker who’d give journalists stories that’d make their editors need a lie-down, and now I’m the reformed character trying to spread a bit of wisdom. Ethics isn’t just about telling the truth – it’s about knowing which truths need telling, and which ones should stay buried deeper than my first album’s sales figures.”
“Take these AI journalism tools,” he continues, warming to his theme. “They’re like having a fact-checker with the personality of a calculator and the imagination of a Hollywood scriptwriter. Last week, one of them analysed our old interviews and concluded we were ‘pioneering environmental activists’ because we once did a gig powered by solar panels.” He winks. “Truth is, we just couldn’t afford to pay the power bill that month.”
Scene 4: The Unexpected Wisdom
As our interview winds down, Barney suddenly turns philosophical – a transformation as unexpected as finding a vegetarian at a BBQ competition.
“You know what real journalism ethics is about?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “It’s about responsibility. When I was young, I thought responsibility was what happened to other people. Now? I realise it’s like a hangover – inevitable and better dealt with head-on.”
He pulls out his guitar, strumming a few chords. “We’re writing a new song about it actually. Called ‘Digital Truth Blues.’ First verse goes: ‘AI fact-checked my life story, said I was boring and too glory, but the truth ain’t in the algorithm’s way, it’s in the stories we choose to say.'” He grins. “Bit on the nose, but then again, subtlety was never our strong suit.”
Stand-up Corner with Claudia
“You know what’s funny about journalism ethics in the digital age? It’s the only field where ‘following a lead’ could mean either investigating corruption or just trying to find where the AI hid the original source code! But seriously, folks, when Barney Dawson starts talking about ethical responsibility, you know times have changed. It’s like seeing a metal head at a classical concert – unexpected, but somehow it works!”
Barney’s Parting Wisdom
“Remember what I always say – live now, pay later, it’s a diamond’s worth. But maybe fact-check that quote before you print it, yeah? And if you’re using AI, make sure it knows the difference between a possum and a wallaby. We don’t need another marsupial-related scandal in the family!”
Want more of Barney’s insights? Stay tuned for next week’s episode: “The Day Barney Discovered AI-Generated Lyrics and Nearly Had an Existential Crisis”
