Journalism Ltd wrote an op-ed about who’s to blame before Helen Haines was even attacked

This column won’t tell you why Helen Haines was allegedly attacked. So as an opinion writer, I’ve already failed at my job. 

Since the independent MP for Indi was horrifically rammed twice with a car outside her Wangaratta electorate office, the name of the alleged attacker has been released, and police are still working to establish motive. That leaves a gap between what has happened and what can responsibly be said about it. That gap is the valuable commercial real estate in which opinion journalism flourishes.

It can now be filled with almost anything: the poisoning of political discourse, the radicalisation of the left, the menace of the right, social media, conspiracy theories, the collapse of trust, the disintegration of mental health support systems, the powerlessness of the police. Some of them may even prove relevant. A lot of them were worth examining before this attack and will still be long after. Most importantly, all of them are available if you have a deadline and a strong personal brand to grow.

The temptation is to reach for an explanation we had ready before Haines was even hurt: here, at last, is the terrible thing that proves I was right.

When I’m not writing opinion columns, I teach journalism. It gives me the unusual professional arrangement of stressing the importance of verification, while constantly trying to have something to say. Good opinion writing depends on established facts, explaining the importance of what has been reported, following arguments into uncomfortable spaces, and challenging official accounts. Reporting is constrained in ways that opinion writing is not. 

However, the demand for an argument can quickly devolve into the demand for certainty; that is, the facts. This is especially true after violence: an editor needs a piece by deadline, a writer needs a position before that deadline, and an audience wants an explanation until the next piece they read. Everybody is incentivised to finish an investigation that has barely just begun.

The ABC has reported that the arrested man was previously involved with an anti-logging group, whose chair said he had not heard from him since before the pandemic. The Nightly, along with many other outlets, has found his social media and reported it replete with pro-Palestine content. None of this establishes motive. As more information emerges, some of it may even support a clear account of political motivation. Evidence might implicate a particular ideology, organisation or person. A commitment to accuracy and facts can produce very unequal conclusions about where responsibility lies. But the conclusion has to remain open to what is found. Otherwise, we’re just shopping for a perpetrator whose politics suit our own ideologies.

There is a further problem with the rush to blame. We can end up describing an entire section of the public as collectively responsible for an act we have barely begun to understand. Their anger becomes evidence against them. Their political language becomes a confession. People who have never met the alleged attacker find themselves being forced to answer for him.

None of which exempts the language deployed in public by so much of our political and media class. If a politician encourages violence, or an influential social media account circulates a demonstrable lie about someone, we can examine the words and the conduct. There’s suddenly a glut of prominent figures pleading for us to maintain civil discourse, while they spent much of the past few years treating each other quite uncivilly. “Lower the temperature” can become an extremely convenient instruction for people who would prefer to receive less criticism.

Democratic argument involves anger. People have reasons to be angry about housing, racism, corruption, war and the treatment of their communities. A person can be furious with a politician and still recognise that politician’s absolute right to go to work and about their life safely. 

There is a substantial story about the safety of elected representatives. The AFP commissioner has reiterated concerns about growing threats against parliamentarians and other office holders. There are questions about protecting electorate staff, maintaining public access and ensuring people can enter politics without accepting intimidation as an occupational requirement. Criticism and safety belong together. We surrender something essential if an attack becomes an excuse to make legitimate political opposition suspect.

I’ve made, in this column, a concerted effort not to name or centre the alleged perpetrator of the attack on Helen Haines. My fear is that in an attention economy, we’re making them rich. There is research behind this concern.

A 2022 study by Michael Jetter and Jay Walker found evidence that increased television coverage of mass shootings in the United States contributed to subsequent shootings. It isn’t a scientific certainty, but research has documented mass shooters who explicitly sought fame and drew inspiration from previous offenders. Criminologists Adam Lankford and Eric Madfis have proposed withholding mass shooters’ names and images to deny them notoriety and potentially deter others. That is a suggested precaution, not proof that anonymity prevents attacks.

None of this establishes that the man charged over the attack on Haines wanted publicity. Nor, obviously, can findings about American mass shootings simply be transferred to an alleged vehicle attack in regional Victoria. They should, however, give editors a reason to consider the risk that saturation coverage could reward notoriety-seeking offenders or provide a model for others.

Identifying a person charged with a serious offence can serve a clear public interest. So can investigating their history for warning signs, relevant connections or institutional failures. Each additional detail should earn its place by helping explain the case, scrutinise the response or prevent harm. Audience curiosity shouldn’t be the only motivation in reportage.

An opinion column can add to the problem by elevating an alleged attacker into the embodiment of an entire political movement, someone whose every old social media post supposedly unlocks the true culprits behind a national crisis. The writer gets an argument, the publication gets attention, and the accused gets ever greater public notoriety. Somewhere in there, we should at least ask what is being offered up to anyone else who wants to be noticed.

And yes, the obvious objection to all this is currently sitting at a keyboard. I have taken the alleged attack on Helen Haines and used it to write about an institution I already have opinions about. Writing this paragraph acknowledging that temptation doesn’t absolve me. Self-awareness is cheap, especially when I can invoice for it.

What matters is whether I limit my claims to what I can support. This column cannot establish what caused the alleged attack, whether any particular event influenced the alleged attacker, or what his social media history means. It can ask why we should accept assertions about those things from writers who have no more evidence than their readers.

We should be able to condemn the alleged attack without knowing its cause. We should be able to investigate the cause without deciding in advance who must be responsible. The word “opinion” above the headline offers no exemption from getting the facts right. An unsupported accusation is already a failure of journalism. 

Helen Haines is entitled to more than becoming the opening paragraph of something we were going to write anyway.