It's a terrible shame what's happened to Aljazeera America. Slated for closure in a few short weeks, it means some 800 of my former colleagues, decent journalists all, are now facing unemployment. Some are my friends.
AJAM had its faults, sure. But its heart was good and its goal was pure - to being a more international news agenda to the US. Sadly, one of the main problems it had to contend with was its name. Apparently an Arab moniker is unacceptable to many Americans. We had hoped our faith in human tolerance would pay off, but we were sadly disappointed. To a good section of the public, Aljazeera still equals Terrorist TV. It's an entrenched opinion that will take years of effort to make a dent in - a luxury Aljazeera America now doesn't have.
I firmly believe entrenched opinions are the barrier to progress. You only have to look as far as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict to see that. Hell, you only have to look as far as my mum. For years she refused to get broadband internet, because she was convinced 'internet burglars' would steal her valuables.
"But mum," I said, "you don't have online banking, you've never shopped online, you don't even have a credit card." It was no use. For years when we visited her, we had to put up with that unbearable screech as the dial-up connected. Then wait ten years for email to load, trying not to throw things at the computer in frustration. Mum wouldn't even scan anything to send to us in Doha. We had to buy her a fax machine.
She has actually now invested in broadband. Not so that she could Skype me and and her precious grand-daughter while we were abroad, mind. She had a much more pressing reason. She discovered Netflix.
But she is still very cautious about any kind of new technology, which I uncharitably put down to her getting on a bit. "You're too old, mum," I told her. I should have remembered what goes around, comes around.
I have been trying to get 'down with the kids' lately, because the main character in my book is a 15-year old girl. I have taken to stalking my daughter as she's on her phone, trying to get a feel for the language of youth. When I was 15, if we thought someone was stupid, we called them 'wally', or 'berk', or 'div'. I asked my darling daughter what she and her friends called stupid people. "We call them 'stupid'", she said, looking at me as if I was mad. What about terms like 'bae' and 'on fleek', I asked. What do they mean?
My daughter told me in no uncertain terms never to use words like that again. "You're too old, mum," she said. See, what goes around comes around.
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