Just as journalism is turning into a quaint pursuit - needlepoint, stamp collecting, news reporting - there is a new film out, State of Play, which makes Grub Street look dead essential again, even glamorous.
It's a remake of a fine British television series but with more lipgloss. At the same time a real-life thrilling scoop is playing out in Britain, where the Telegraph has shaken up the entire Westminster political system by revealing MPs' abuse of their expense allowances - including absurd details such as those who claimed money for a black glittery toilet seat, cleaning their moat and the installation of fake Tudor beams in their second houses.
The substance of the scandal has been the use of expenses for property speculation, but it is the details which have made the story so delicious. Exposure of the rorts has cost the Speaker his job and seen at least a dozen MPs resign.
The New York Times called it "The scoop that changed Parliament", and noted that the Telegraph paid a whistleblower for the computer disk containing details of MPs' expending on the taxpayer coin.
Back here the Herald on Sunday is gagging for our own version. It has sent questions to MPs asking them to voluntarily disclose their expenses details; only two did. But this week Prime Minister John Key called a soothing inquiry.
Perhaps it is not surprising that individual MPs are fighting so hard to keep details of their own expenses spending out of the public eye. They know they will get skewered for every bottle of chardonnay. It is also surprisingly dumb.
The total amount is so trifling - a total of $1.8 million, or $14,700 each. This is less than the New Zealand Ballet got in extra funding in the latest Budget. MPs outside Wellington can also claim up to $24,000 for accommodation in the capital - but it is still small bikkies compared to Britain, where MPs used their open-ended expenses to "flip" houses (sell them for a profit). And it is beyond trivial in the context of a Government facing a financial crisis about how to support its ageing population. As NZPA journalist Ian Llewellyn put it: "[MPs] may be self-serving and it is fun to drag them over the coals but anyone who even glimpses the long-term fiscal position would know there are more serious issues."
This story about MPs' expenses says more about the media's arrogance than it does about MPs' profligacy. What riles the media is that politicians have insisted the expenses remain exempt from the Official Information Act. Journalists, already feeling as useful as stamp collectors, hate being told no. Put aside all the lofty posturing about transparency and public interest; journalists are simply looking for another Tuku's underpants-sized scoop that will sell some newspapers.
The irony is the more we pursue the scandal the less respect the public has for the fourth estate. Journalism will become a hobby unless we can show we add real value - not just prurient entertainment. As economist Robert Picard says: "Journalists like to think of their work in moral or even sacred terms. With each new layoff or paper closing, they tell themselves that no business model could adequately compensate for the holy work of enriching democratic society, speaking truth to power, and comforting the afflicted. Actually journalists deserve low pay." Journalism's holier-than-thou attitude is not helping.
Here's an idea. How about we double MPs' expenses immediately with a performance clause - that they get us in to the top half of the OECD. Wouldn't that be money better spent than on new toe shoes for our prima ballerinas?
deborah@coneandco.com
<i>Deborah Hill Cone:</i> Scandal chasers selling us short
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