It isn't news that we are living in dire times for journalism. A few weeks before publication, President Trump banned three major news outlets from the White House. There’s an epidemic of billionaires buying newspapers and networks, and quashing unfavourable coverage. Public faith in the news media is currently in the toilet.
Against this context, ProPublica is the largest not-for-profit newsroom in the United States, and one of the very few bright lights in this bleak landscape. With no political bias or wealthy owners to kowtow to, their reporters are free to follow leads wherever they take them. The organization has been going strong since 2007, having changed numerous laws and won nine Pulitzer Prizes along the way.
In May this year, ProPublica launched Paper Trail, a biweekly podcast hosted by journalist Jessica Lussenhop. In the show, Lussenhop interviews her colleagues about their latest investigations. (Ed. note: it's a bit like Spotlight for the podcast age).
Abuses of power are ProPublica's beat. Its scoops take many forms. Sometimes they fall in the sports arena, such as an exposé of money lenders taking advantage of poor Dominican baseball players. Sometimes the scoops are political, as in the investigation into a Russian businessman with close ties to Putin who funded Donald Trump Jr's second wedding. And sometimes religious, as in the church that uses the putatively benign mantra "forgive and forget" to let the paedophiles amongst its congregation off the hook.
Tying all these themes together is the show's approaches to interviewing its reporters. Lussenhop speaks to her esteemed colleagues both as a peer and a fan. Still, it’s an old adage that journalists never want to become the story. Lussenhop is primarily interested in their process: how the most innocuous of leads can lead to big discoveries. Considering Paper Trail can be quite different from fortnight to fortnight depending on the story in question, having her enthusiastic, endless curiosity at the helm helps to give the podcast an overarching identity.
Lussenhop’s enthusiasm for her fellow ProPublica journalists as a fundraiser. As a newsroom run on public donations, Paper Trail exists as its own advertisement for the organization's efforts. ProPublica proves their importance in every episode, not just by way of the prestigious prizes they’ve won or the laws that they’ve changed, but in the way they are willing to stick up for the little guy – us.
This is public service journalism in the truest sense. In addition to telling compelling stories, ProPublica genuinely try to make things better.
In one episode, Lussenhop describes an online tool the organization has made so anyone can check if one of their medications has come from a factory inspectors have found issues with; another focuses on a potentially helpful means of helping those stuck in the hellish maze of health insurance denial.
One of the most surprisingly engaging editions so far, about shady dealers towing and selling cars for their own profit, sees ProPublica aid a Connecticut newsroom in their own investigation. The local news scene is struggling even more than the national one right now, and the spotlight on all the good these smaller organizations can do for regular people feels heartfelt and vital.
While many of the topics discussed on Paper Trail are upsetting and/or disturbing, just the existence of the podcast itself is a balm. In a world where so many bad actors are running rampant without accountability, and where the organisations who should be holding them to account are increasingly mired in their own corporate ownership minefields, to hear these stories of a newsroom making a difference is like an oasis in the desert.
It’s nice to feel hopeful again, even just in fortnightly, 45-minute instalments.
