Ten years ago, on Friday 13 November 2015, nine gunmen attacked a concert hall, a stadium and several restaurants and bars in Paris, almost simultaneously. The then president Francois Hollande described the attacks as an “act of war”, one which left 130 dead, hundreds wounded and France reeling.
Making sense of the horror was no doubt difficult for any journalist, but I was just starting a new job where it was particularly difficult. Monday 15 November marked my first day as deputy editor on a brand new magazine, The Week Junior, a current affairs title for eight to 14-year-olds. We would go to press for the first time that following Wednesday. The magazine’s mission statement would be “making sense of the world”. In light of the attacks, it was a bold promise.
Gone was the celebratory first-ever front cover, replaced with three sombre strips of red, blue and white, a black Eiffel Tower in a black circle, echoing the international peace sign, and the simple three words “after the attacks”. We decided right away that we wouldn’t shy away from horrendous news, but there would also be no sensationalism, no dwelling on distressing detail and no dumbing down.
I’d like to say that the Paris attacks were an appalling aberration; a horror story that we would never again have to revisit on the pages of the magazine. Of course, that’s not true. In fact, in some ways, it set the tone of what was to come. At The Week Junior, we dread bad news. I remember the horror of hearing that the politician Jo Cox had been murdered. It didn’t seem possible; it certainly didn’t seem possible to explain it to our readers. Or the children killed and injured in the Manchester Arena attack after a pop concert. I listened to doctors at Royal Manchester Children’s Hospital describing the types of wounds being treated – war wounds – and wondered how on earth we’d report it.
Our answer has always been to tell the story in a way that is calm, clear and measured. We stick to the facts and we give them context. We don’t talk down to readers – we talk to them. After all, there’s a good chance that they will already have heard about a major news story from elsewhere. We always find a way to balance the bad with the good; we search for the silver lining, no matter how thin that lining may be. In the aftermath of the Manchester arena attack we reported on the tributes pouring in from across the world; the enormous sums of money raised for charity; the taxi drivers giving free lifts to anyone who needed them; the queues of people lined up to donate blood.
That’s not to say that there aren’t joys in reporting the news for children. There is a freedom that comes with forging our own path away from the “grown-up” media. There was a week in October 2018 when the papers were obsessed with a scandalous Strictly kiss and we focused on an important climate change report. We cheer for tremendous scientific breakthroughs and heroic achievements. We’ve learnt how to explain Brexit many times over. Understanding who our readers are – through school visits, events, focus groups and surveys – meant we knew the questions our readers would want to know. “Will we still be able to play in the Euros?” seemed to be a key concern. Even during Covid, when lockdowns forced schools to close and birthday parties to be put on hold, our coverage focused on kindness. Thanks to The Week Junior, I now know what moonbows and sea slugs are.
At times we’ve got it wrong. We were pilloried for a debate we ran which appeared to question the need for minority languages. At one point, it felt as though most of the population of Wales was on our case – and rightly so. It prompted a major rethink about what the purpose of our debate feature was for, and the topics that were off limits. There was a frantic mad dash into the office when I realised with creeping horror that I’d called the result of the 2016 US election badly wrong – and had to rewrite the main news story proclaiming Hilary Clinton the next US president. We’ve grappled with how to discuss LGBTQ issues, and been criticised for celebrating Pride on our front cover. We once managed to miss an expletive hidden in some graffiti behind a picture of a ballerina.
Ten years since the Paris attacks, I’m still at The Week Junior. I’m now a mother with two small children of my own. Our readership has grown up, moved on and been replaced with new readers many times over. There are new stories to grapple with – in particular the horrors in Ukraine and Gaza. We’ve recently had to figure out the best way of explaining what nuclear weapons are, and how to talk about Palestinian prisoners.
Bad news is inevitable. I’m sure the next ten years will bring plenty more. But some things are timeless: the resilience, kindness and curiosity of children – who do care about the news. This world, for all its flaws, belongs to the next generation. Making sense of it has never been more important.
[Further reading: The BBC’s darkest hour]
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