The practice of journalism perpetually navigates a tense and unspoken bargain, caught between the siren song of access and the fundamental duty to hold power accountable. This dynamic creates a system where proximity to the powerful inevitably shapes and narrows the narrative, often prioritising the transactional nature of "access journalism" and its hidden costs over uncompromising reporting. These pressures are compounded when larger corporate interests and profit motives override the core mission of public service, creating a gravitational pull towards simple, conflict-driven narratives at the expense of complex, nuanced truth.

This entire structure operates within the very real framework of human biases that exist inside every newsroom, leading to the perennial dilemma of false balance in a polarised world and the constant risk of normalising the worldview of the powerful. At its heart, this is a daily choice between maintaining the trust of the audience and heeding the whisper of a privileged source—an eternal struggle to preserve integrity while navigating the relentless allure of influence, upon which the very credibility of the press depends.

Introduction

We often imagine journalism as a pure pursuit of truth—a noble field where facts are sacred and power is held to account. Yet, time and again, we see media institutions and individual reporters accused of being on the “wrong side” of a story: amplifying misleading narratives, platforming demagogues, or softening blows meant for the powerful.

The explanation for this failure is often oversimplified as outright bias or corruption. But the real answer is far more unsettling because it is so deeply human. The allure of power is a siren song to which journalists, like all of us, are not immune.

The human nature of the hunt

Journalists are, first and foremost, human beings. They arrive in the profession not as blank slates, but as products of a society that often equates proximity to power with success. This creates a fundamental tension at the heart of their work.

The currency of journalism is access. A scoop, an exclusive interview, a behind-the-scenes leak—these are the career-making treasures reporters seek. And who holds the keys to these treasures? The very people in positions of authority. This creates an unconscious, and sometimes conscious, pull towards maintaining good relations with powerful sources. The fear of being cut off, of losing one’s competitive edge, can be a powerful incentive to soften a critical question, to bury a damning paragraph, or to accept a source’s framing of events without sufficient challenge.

This is not necessarily a malicious choice. It’s a slow, gravitational drift. Spending days, weeks, and years in the orbit of powerful institutions—be they political, corporate, or financial—can normalise their perspective. The “view from the bubble” starts to feel like the only view. The urgent, spinning news cycle inside the Beltway begins to feel more real than the slow, grinding realities of everyday life outside of it. This proximity bias is a natural human tendency; we are all shaped by our environment.

When the system encourages the drift

Beyond individual psychology, the very structure of modern media often incentivises aligning with power.

  1. The access trap: a specific model, often called “access journalism”, thrives on this transactional relationship. The unspoken agreement can be: “I give you a favourable light, and you give me the next big leak.” In this system, truth can become a secondary concern to maintaining a valuable connection. The journalist’s power derives from their powerful sources, creating a vicious cycle where accountability is the first casualty.

  2. The corporate filter: most major news outlets are not small, idealistic nonprofits. They are large corporations, often owned by vast conglomerates. Their primary duty is to shareholders, which can, and often does, conflict with the duty to the public. Investigative reports that threaten major advertisers or the political interests of the parent company can be spiked, diluted, or buried. This isn’t always a cartoonish villain issuing orders; it’s a subtle, cultural understanding of what stories are “worth the trouble”.

  3. The simplicity of narrative: power is skilled at crafting simple, compelling stories. It is easier to report on a political race as a horse race—who’s up, who’s down—than to delve into complex policy details. It is easier to frame a conflict as a battle between two sides than to untangle a messy web of historical context and shared blame. Powerful actors provide the simple quotes, the clear villains, and the dramatic narratives that drive clicks and ratings. In the pursuit of engagement, the nuanced truth is often the first thing sacrificed.

Is there a “right” side?

It’s also crucial to acknowledge that the accusation of being on the “wrong side” is often subjective. In a polarized world, any criticism of one side is seen as allegiance to the other. A journalist holding power to account, regardless of party, will be claimed as a hero by one faction and denounced as a hack by the other. This constant crossfire can be a sign that they are, in fact, doing their job—standing in the uncomfortable middle, guided by facts rather than tribalism.

The greater failure is not taking a side but failing to take the side of truth. This is most glaring in cases of false equivalence—giving equal weight to a scientific consensus and a fringe denialist view in the name of “balance”. In striving for an impossible “neutrality”, the journalist inadvertently takes the side of misinformation.

Fighting the gravitational pull

All is not lost. The best journalism actively fights this gravitational pull. It does so through:

  • Radical transparency: being open about sources, methods, and the journalistic process.

  • Diverse newsrooms: bringing a multitude of perspectives to the table to challenge ingrained biases and groupthink.

  • Prioritising accountability over access: valuing the trust of the audience over the whispers of a source.

  • A focus on the unpowerful: making a conscious effort to leave the bubble and report from communities where power is felt, not wielded.

Conclusion: a vigilance against ourselves

The challenge, then, is not merely about exposing corruption or chasing scoops. It is a vigilance against a far more insidious enemy: our own human nature and the seductive systems that reward it. The path toward truly accountable journalism is not found in pretending journalists are impartial robots but in acknowledging their humanity—with all its biases, ambitions, and temptations.

The “wrong side” is not always a conscious choice of evil over good. More often, it is the slow, steady current of access, narrative simplicity, and corporate influence pulling the journalist away from the rocky shore of hard truth. Recognising this current is the first step toward swimming against it.

The future of a trustworthy press depends on this internal struggle. It requires newsrooms that champion independence over access, reporters who seek out the unheard as vigorously as they court the powerful, and an audience that rewards integrity with its attention and support. The goal is not to eliminate power—that is impossible—but to report on it with a clear-eyed understanding of its allure and a relentless commitment to holding it to account, even when, especially when, it is difficult to do so. For in that difficulty lies the very purpose of the profession.