There are a lot of journalists in my extended family and indeed journalism and writing has always been very important within the wider family. At one time as much younger person I even toyed with the idea of becoming a journalist influenced as I was by the heroic endeavours of the Washington Post writers Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward who exposed the scandal of Watergate and played a massive part in the downfall of Nixon.
More recently in my professional life I have had more than most people’s experience of dealing with both print and other media journalists – and by in large it has been a positive experience – because I have found them to be individuals whose primary focus was to enable you to tell your story and if investigation was required for a piece they did so with an approach which was as respectful as possible.
I’ve found myself thinking about journalism as today is World Press Freedom Day or simply World Press Day – as it is each year on the 3rd of May. It is a moment to reflect on the importance of a free and independent press, the courage of journalists who speak truth to power, and the role of media in holding society to account.
Sadly, as too many know there are parts of the world where the freedom to speak truth to power is one that costs the lives of too many journalists. In 2024, a record number of journalists and media workers lost their lives while performing their duties. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), at least 124 journalists were killed globally, marking the deadliest year since the organisation began tracking such data over three decades ago.
World Press Day for me is also a moment to ask – whose voices do we not hear? Whose truths remain unspoken? Whose story is rarely told in both printed and visual media?
In the world of social care, we work every day with those whose stories too often remain hidden behind doors marked “vulnerable,” “elderly,” or “complex needs.” We serve people whose words may be soft and quiet or whose communication may not come in familiar forms. People whose voices, whether through age, illness, disability, or marginalisation, are too easily ignored in the national conversation.
In Scotland, as I have stated often – we pride ourselves on being a nation of compassion and community. But compassion must include the act of listening – really listening – to those on the margins. A truly free society is not only one where the press can publish without fear, but one where all voices are amplified, especially those who experience silence imposed not by censorship or deliberate design, but by neglect and invisibility.
I think of the individuals I’ve met in care homes who have led rich lives – teachers, poets, nurses, labourers – now facing the end of life almost unnoticed and some with so much to say but no one interested in listening. I think of the incredible care staff, often undervalued and overworked, whose experiences should shape public policy, yet they rarely find space in national debate. I think of unpaid carers who give their days and dreams to support those they love, rarely asked for their opinion by decision-makers.
Right across social care services there are stories that rarely see the light. Stories of resilience, of love and heartbreak, of injustice and of quiet triumph. Stories that tell us more about the soul of our society than any press release or political speech.
But these stories are not often told – because the individuals who live them are too often viewed as recipients of care, not as narrators of their own lives.
At the same time the media narrative about social care remains stubbornly stuck in crisis. And I must confess I probably in part have been responsible for contributing to those column inches.
Social care appears in the news when things go wrong. When budgets are slashed. When someone dies. When a ‘scandal’ breaks. Rarely are we told of the joy in care homes, of the laughter when someone is supported in their own home, of the small, sacred moments of connection between carer and supported person. They are not ‘news’ – they are the ordinariness of relationship as being in community.
I think we need a new kind of press freedom – one that seeks out not just political controversy, but human truth.
We need journalists who will sit beside someone who uses social care and ask not what’s broken, but what matters to you?
We need editors who will give column inches to care workers, who will treat the voices of people who use services with the same weight they give to ministers and CEOs.
We need a Scotland where the press plays its part in ensuring that care is not only reported but understood.
Because in a truly free society, everyone’s story matters.
So, on this World Press Freedom Day, I certainly want to fight for the protection of journalists around the world but also want to shout out for the amplification of those whose stories go untold.
The freedom of the press is not simply the right to publish. It is the duty to listen.
And if we are brave enough to listen to the voices in social care, we might just learn something profound about who we are, and who we could become as individuals and as a society.
I leave you with some of the words of an American poet Patricia A Fleming. Raised in Trenton, New Jersey, she pursued a career as a psychiatric social worker, dedicating 36 years to supporting individuals facing mental health challenges. Upon retiring in 2016, Fleming rekindled her passion for writing, channelling her life experiences into poetry that offers inspiration and solace to readers. She has argued that it is critical that those on the margins must be given opportunities to tell their story and know that it is seen and being listened to. In December 2023, Fleming published her first poetry collection titled Being Human In This Crazy World.
The following poem encapsulates the power of storytelling, especially in the context of personal experience and resilience,
The Legacy of My Words
By Patricia A. Fleming
My words are like my heartbeat.
They tell the world that I’m alive.
They recite the tale of who I am
And of all I have survived.
My words reveal my deepest pain.
They betray my greatest fears.
They share moments of my laughter,
As well as moments filled with tears.
They are the legacy I leave behind
When my time on earth is through.
They’ll offer others hope and strength
To help them make it too.
So I’ll write my words with courage,
And I’ll speak them loud and clear,
For in the telling of my story,
I find my purpose here.
https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-legacy-of-my-words
Donald Macaskill
Last Updated on 3rd May 2025 by donald.macaskill
