The reader Heide G. from southern Germany recently sent me an email. In it she asked me to write a political column in which “positive aspects are sometimes emphasized”. To be honest, that approach alone goes against my grumpy personality.
But Ms. G. did it cleverly, because she prefaced her request with the charming sentence: “I look forward to your witty column every week.” This kindness, of course, softened her request.
positive what is it Ms G. writes that she “only partially” understands the criticism of the traffic light government and sometimes misses “recognition”. In her circle of acquaintances or in the media, she has never heard a “thank you” and “great” for “that every citizen received a €300 energy subsidy”. For the sake of accuracy, I would have to add that it wasn’t every citizen, but I’m afraid Ms G. wouldn’t consider that to be witty, but rather curmudgeonly.
The wording that she could only “partially understand” the criticism of the chancellor is an example of the difference between Ms. G. and me. The reader prefers to emphasize what she finds good. In addition to the 300 euros, this also includes the electricity price brake. The journalist, at least the one socialized in the Berlin biotope, would ask what Ms. G. finds bad. There must be something if she can only “conditionally” understand the criticism. The journalist smells the headline: “There is dissatisfaction with the chancellor among southern German women.” Or something like that. Ms. G. would rather read: “Well done, Mr. Scholz.”
This discrepancy inevitably leads to the suspicion that the journalist’s criticism ignores the wishes of the reader. That would be stupid. I can already guess what I’ll hear if my editor-in-chief finds out.
What can I say in my defence? For example, that we don’t always criticize Scholz. I would have to search a little longer, but surely there was something friendly about the chancellor in the stern. But then we certainly also received letters from the editor whose writers complained that we were too friendly with him. Although to complain is a very reserved verb. Such writers of letters to the editor occasionally use language that Ms. G. and I do not consider witty.
So it’s a dilemma. If we write in the sense of Mrs. G., if we annoy another letter-to-the-editor, let’s call him Mr. L. And vice versa. That’s why one of the most dangerous phrases a journalist can say about a topic at an editorial conference is, “I think that would interest the readers.” Because they immediately catch the counter-question: “Who are the readers?”
Now I don’t want to wriggle out of trying to fulfill Ms G.’s wish to write something positive about Olaf Scholz. So it’s convenient for me that the chancellor recently said a clever sentence: “I’m everyone’s chancellor, but I don’t talk to everyone.” That’s exactly how I understand my job as an editor in the little cosmos between Ms. G. and Mr. L. At least as long as Mr. L. doesn’t write me how much he looks forward to my column every week.
Nico Fried looks forward to hearing from you. Send him an email to nico.fried@stern.de
