The Print Journalist

Journalism matters to us all.

Because the truth matters.

But journalism really matters to me.

Because in its pursuit I have got

to see the heart and mind

at their best

their worst

and most places in between.

So do us all a favor

and go buy a damned newspaper.

National Post - Northern cod

There’s a huge biological change happening on the banks that extend off Newfoundland and Labrador’s northeastern coast.

The northern cod are coming back.

And they’re eating the shrimp that had taken over.

The Chronicle Herald - Moderate Livelihood

A Coast Guard cutter and two helicopters provided little more than backdrop scenery to the boiling tensions on the Acadian shore Monday.

Both the First Nations encamped behind a barricade at the Saulnierville Wharf and the predominantly Acadian local fishermen with their own roadblock at the Meteghan wharf 14 kilometres away called on the federal authorities to uphold the law.

But whose law do they uphold?

I am Aaron Beswick

I am a 38 year old print journalist. The words and photos on this page are my own.

Those of us who remain in this profession should savor it.

I need to be part of journalism's future.

Like a dog needs a bone. Like a smoke needs a match. Like a story needs to be told.

aaronbeswick@yahoo.com @CH_ABeswick (902) 867-4551

A wanted man and a big Question

The Question: How did Mohammed Zuraibi Alzoabi escape justice in Canada and who helped him?
The Follow: How often are the sovereignty of our courts and victims rights getting trampled on?
More Importantly: Does our federal government care?

Pathos

F5 and Be There

A bureau reporter typically works alone. This gives him or her (in this case me) the privilege of being multiple things at once: writer, photographer and videographer. The same guiding rule applies for each role: Be There. Knock on that door. Hop aboard that boat. Walk down that alley. When you get there, know that your smartphone isn't a camera. Shutter speed, aperature and ISO - light and time - those are the tools of the visual journalist.

You break the story.

Then the real work begins.

Untreated kraft pulp mill effluent flows from a broken pipe. through a wetland and into Pictou Harbour in 2014.

“We’re going to have to postpone your tour of the mill. We’ve got a small leak so we are shutting down as a precaution while we fix it.”

There are few more desperate than a communication specialist tasked with improving the environmental image of a kraft pulp mill in northern Nova Scotia on the morning that a pipe ruptures and spews 70 million litres of untreated effluent into a wetland behind a First Nation community.

It was June 10, 2014 and in his despair, the spokesman had violated the first rule of being a flak: don’t give the scent.

Pictou Landing First Nation Chief Andrea Paul arrived at her office at 8:30 a.m. to find me waiting out front.

“They’ve got the road blocked, you won’t get down there,” I warn after informing her of the leak..

“I’d like to see them try to stop me,” says chief Paul.

“Hop aboard my rig.”

But life is complicated. That mill is a cornerstone of the entire forestry industry for northern Nova Scotia and despite its failings, significant expenditures have been made to make it both more financially and environmentally sustainable.

In journalism, it is the follow-through that matters.