Journalism and gardening are two activities with more elements in common than one might initially think. Especially in the genre of interviews, where headlines that have been planted by the journalist are increasingly common, without the person spoken to having provided the seed or, at least, the watering can. At La Razón they interview the singer Julián Hernández. The headline they have chosen, and which they highlight on the cover, is this: “A rock band can end in a cataclysm”. Obviously, it is inevitable to think that he is talking about the lamented Siniestro Total, which he led. But let's look at how the exchange went: “Is every rock band a cataclysm?”, asks the journalist. And the answer is. “Ha, ha, ha. Well, as much as a cataclysm... A rock band can end in a cataclysm, yes. But it's a society, a very strange social, human union”. In other words, the idea of a cataclysm, which is what gives strength to the headline, not only did not arise from the interviewee, but when it is presented to him, he tends to downplay it and then, out of pure courtesy, elaborates a response in which he says that a band – in general, not his own! – can end in a cataclysm. (In the end, if we are hyperbolic, everything can end in a cataclysm, from a football match to a Sunday noodle dish.)I could find a dozen similar examples every week: formulate the question in bombastic terms, and even if the other person, defenseless, says no, you can headline as if they were actively denying it on their own initiative. To the aspiring journalists who read me, I give this advice for struggling in the murky waters of clickbait journalism. Ask the next interviewee as soon as you start: "Do you enjoy skinning street cats?" The answer – gulp, I hope! – will be an energetic "No!". But you will already have the headline ("I do not enjoy skinning street cats"). Then you can record half an hour more of conversation, to finish filling up.  

On Earth, it will be barely two minutes, but on Planet Journalism, the clickbait moon has long since settled right in the middle of the sunbeam of critical thinking. This need to try to capture the audience's attention with "content" – a terrible word when it displaces information– leads you to stumble upon headlines like “Experts agree: this is how you should dress to observe the solar eclipse” (El Español). Or also: "If you are going to see the eclipse on August 12, there is a dress code: «In the dark, orangey-red colors will disappear»" (Infobae). If I wear orangey-red, can I be seen through? Will my insides be visible? Well, I wouldn't like that; neither would I, it seems, anyone else. Then we have pieces like “What nobody is telling you about the solar eclipse” (La Razón). Spoiler: there are a dozen similar headlines and, to no one's surprise, they explain things that you can also find in the other 22,374 articles that have been written on the subject.

Spanish Television has already decided how it will face the autumn when a new competitor to its left, La7, will emerge, having lured away one of its star presenters, Javier Ruiz. As confirmed by the network, the program Mañaneros 360 will remain on air, but with new hosts: Jesús Cintora jumps from the daily program Malas lenguas and lands in this midday format, accompanied by Adela González and Miriam Moreno. Of course, the journalist doesn't completely leave the format, as he will remain as presenter of Malas lenguas noche, the longer version that airs on La 2 on Saturday nights.

It's summer; it's time for Calippos, for playing Uno, for towels on the grass and for solving Murdokus, that delicious mix between Cluedo and Sudoku. But my son Quim puts me on the trail of a beastly story. In the Italian town of Manarola, an eight-year-old boy playing in the pool with his six-year-old cousin, pushed him, while playing, until he drowned him. When the little one's father saw it, he submerged the other child until he killed him. And, when the older boy's father saw the scene, he fatally stabbed the other father. They report it in Marca, on Telecinco, in the Portal de Cádiz and in several other media... but not in any Italian ones. Suspicious, isn't it? In fact, the first news seems to be from a digital outlet in Castilla-La Mancha, 1,200 kilometers in a straight line from the alleged scene of the events, which should set off all alarms. The article, moreover, does not cite any source, beyond the misleading generic formulations such as “According to information confirmed so far” or “According to initial reports”. Let's see: confirmed by whom? By the police? By medical services? It's not stated anywhere. Nor is any proper name mentioned. Everything suggests that it is a fabricated news story by someone and that other media have reproduced it without taking the slightest trouble to check if it was true.

The announcement of Silvia Intxaurrondo's renewal at the helm of La 1's morning magazine has left journalist and commentator Juan Soto Ivars in an uncomfortable position. In a podcast from the newspaper Abc of June assured to have heard in a kebab place how some RTVE workers were commenting that the journalist had already emptied her dressing room. That the information was more fragile than my bank account from the 20th onwards was already demonstrated by a fact: theAbc did not dare to make it news. But the newspaper's caution did not extend to pseudo-media such as ESdaily, which made a piece of it. “Soto Ivars discovers Silvia Intxaurrondo's best-kept secret in a kebab: end of her time at TVE,” they wrote. By the way, the headline deserves some award for its abstruse syntax because, with this picturesque order of sentence elements, it might seem that the journalist hides her secrets between layers of lamb strips and yogurt sauce.

(As every summer, ARA dedicates a series of Sunday Media articles to reviewing television history. This year we are rescuing some of the most notable channel changes that historical fictions experienced.)

The row between the Spanish and Italian governments is leaving the right-wing press in an uncomfortable position. Newspapers of exacerbated patriotism, which defend the unequivocal Spanishness of Ceuta, Melilla, Gibraltar, Perejil – and Rosemary, Thyme, and Oregano if they existed – now find themselves in the position of not being able to puff out their chests at Giorgia Meloni to demand respect, as this would somehow help Pedro Sánchez. I have no doubt that if Feijóo and Abascal were in government, and this same situation of a standoff with travelers occurred, these media outlets would talk about the Spanish government's just response to the Italian president's provocation/threat/offensive. Instead, we find headlines like “Sánchez consummates his threat to Meloni and imposes border controls on travelers from Italy” (Ok Diario)) or “Sánchez goes to war with Meloni” (La Razón). In fact, El País also has a collision headline, but with an important nuance: “Sánchez and Meloni go to war over border controls”. In the first headline, there is only one aggressor. In the other, two. It is not a coincidence, obviously.

He was one of the driving forces behind La Villarroel, but the name Ángel Alonso transcends that of the theater he helped found. The author, adapter, director, and theater manager died yesterday, as confirmed by the company Focus, at the age of 84. Throughout his career, Alonso premiered 78 shows, encompassing his different roles, which included 22 original texts and 18 adaptations or translations. With these, he managed to gather more than 3.5 million spectators in theater seats. One production stands out for its overwhelming popularity: The Odd Couple, an adaptation of Neil Simon's classic starring Joan Pera and Paco Morán, which managed to remain alive for over 2,000 performances and one million spectators. The farewell performance was a Guinness World Record: the 17,000 people who filled the Palau Sant Jordi represented the maximum achieved for a theatrical performance.

Interviewing dictators (and the like) is always a dilemma: to what extent are we providing a platform for their anti-democratic ideas and repressive regimes? But, despite everything, there is room for good interviews, especially thanks to the kryptonite of ego: if the leader succumbs to it, in search of validation, there can be room for a good journalistic exchange. One example is the interview Jorge Ramos, from Univisión, conducted with Nicolás Maduro. There was no way to get out of the trivialities that humanize autocrats until the presenter presented him with an iPad showing him images of starving Venezuelans eating from dumpsters. Maduro stood up, declared the interview over, and had the journalist and his team arrested, in addition to confiscating the images. Of course, a few months later they ended up appearing: someone from the Venezuelan government environment leaked them. Needless to say, Maduro has since only agreed to be interviewed by journalists he considered allies.

It had been a rumor for weeks and this Friday it has been confirmed. Javier Ruiz signs for the new television La7 and will be its editorial director. "This is officiating one's own funeral," he joked a few minutes before three in the afternoon, in what will have been the last installment of the program Mañaneros under his leadership. The journalist took the opportunity to say that "there is a plague of journalism falsification and there is a plague of truth falsification. And to turn neighbors into traitors and to turn those who are different into threats. [...] It has never been so important to be connected, to seek information." The message could be understood as a small spot from public television for the new channel that will be born, with a progressive orientation and very focused on information and political debate. Seven minutes later, the social media accounts of the new medium launched a message from Ruiz confirming his new destination.

I was reading a very good report from the Columbia Journalism Review about the dilemma of interviewing dictators or not, and they recalled a legendary episode: that of Oriana Fallaci in 1979, when she interviewed Ayatollah Khomeini. She had agreed to wear the chador to be able to speak with him, but at one point when the Iranian leader told her that if she didn't like the Islamic dress "she was not obliged to wear it," she theatrically removed it and threw it on the floor, saying it was a "stupid and medieval rag." Khomeini interrupted the interview and left, but later reconsidered and finished the conversation. The Spanish journalist Ana Pastor also agreed to cover her hair to interview Mahmud Ahmadinejad. In this case, the scarf kept slipping until her entire head was visible. She stated that it was an accident. There was some controversy, but little else. Christiane Amanpour, on the other hand, had a scheduled interview in 2022 with the Iranian president Ebrahim Raisi, who demanded that she wear the veil "out of respect," alleging that they were in a holy month. She refused, arguing that they were in New York, where no law requires it, and she ended up without an interview. However, she made her protest clear by filming herself in a room with the empty chair that the leader was supposed to occupy. A few days earlier, Lesley Stahl had indeed agreed to cover herself to interview Raisi, which earned her criticism from activists like Masih Alinejad, as that submissive gesture legitimized the mandatory veil law.

“One thing is clear. Today's kids have it damn easy. Being a teenager today is tough because you have to manage puberty, sexuality, and online harassment. But our generation had it tougher: we had to face serial killers.” These are some of the opening words of the narrator and protagonist of The shards, the television adaptation by Ryan Murphy of the novel of the same name by Bret Easton Ellis, author of American Psycho or The Rules of Engagement, which lands on Disney+ this Thursday. There is, therefore, a clear vindication of Generation X and the traumas it carries.

These are some weekend front-page headlines: “Europe cries out against Sánchez” (Abc), “The EU considers Sánchez a failure and demands migratory control” (El Mundo) and “Europe revolts against Sánchez for endangering its borders” (El Mundo). One might infer that there is great concern about what the European Union has to say about the migratory crisis experienced in Ceuta. But that would be a wrong conclusion. Because this Wednesday was the day to report on the summit on this matter. And once again, the survivor Sánchez has come out with minimal scratches. “The EU supports Spain and avoids a clash over regularization,” headlined on the front page of La Vanguardia. “The EU rallies behind Spain for the management of the Ceuta crisis,” seconded El País, which in its subtitle highlighted: “The partners show their ‘total solidarity’, praise the government’s ‘quick and effective’ response and admit that there is no direct relationship between the massive influx and the regularization of immigrants.” Admittedly, these are the two newspapers that apply the most Sanytol to the Spanish president. ARA, for example, headlines saying that “The EU backs Sánchez’s reaction but is wary of regularization” and El Periódico says: “The EU demands more vigilance upon learning that the CNI did not alert,” with a sub-headline that also emphasizes that “The Ministers of the Interior support Spain.”

Everyone with two fingers of forehead has a sufficiently formed hypothesis about who instigated the massive displacement of Moroccans to the Spanish enclave in Africa of Ceuta and, suddenly, their sudden return home. But expressing it out loud are figs from another basket and that is why this Tuesday a good part of the front pages try to say without saying, or focus on who says and, also, on who is silent. For example, El Mundo is the most direct: “The EU points to Morocco but considers giving more aid to Rabat”. Others, like La Razón, cling to Robles – the only socialist minister they treat with kid gloves for her military aspect – to say that “She breaks the position of exculpating Morocco”. The trick is that there is another character in this series who has also taken great care not to anger the Alawite regime: Alberto Núñez Feijóo. And, of course, the most Sanchista newspapers are furious about it: “Feijóo avoids pointing to Morocco” (La Vanguardia) or “The PP rejects pointing to Rabat” (El Periódico). The gray popular leader knows that angering Mohammed VI is not convenient for him, if in a few months he has to be president in Spain. He must remember the news/reminder that Abc dedicated to him last December: “Rabat will punish Feijóo with more immigration if he corrects Sánchez's turn regarding the Sahara”. The archives, always a vaccine against hypocritical gestures.

The head of Opinion at the Washington Post, Adam O’Neil, has resigned after just one year in charge of such a sensitive section. He took the helm, moreover, after his predecessor, David Shipley, had quit, disagreeing with owner Jeff Bezos's plans to shift the editorial stance to much more liberal positions, demanding minimal state intervention in markets. Still under the influence of Christopher Nolan's notable adaptation – it must be stressed for the purists: adaptation – of the Odyssey, it occurs to me that the newspaper finds itself caught between Scylla and Charybdis. And, like Ulysses, it has chosen the certain risk of losing feathers rather than risking sacrificing the whole chicken. Of course, here the body count is not limited to six, as with the mythological beast sung by Homer, since alongside the resignations we must add the successive layoffs that have halved the newsroom. What was once a proud galley now presents a much more battered state, but still capable of producing good journalism. Only that, on the other side of the strait, Charybdis awaits, with its formidable whirlpools that swallow everything and which, without enough rowers, could end up swallowing the ship into the abyss of irrelevance.

Scheduling messages on social media has risks and at the community manager from Pedro Sánchez will probably get a slap on the wrist for not withdrawing the publication of a video in which the Spanish president shares his playlist of songs. The strategy is clear: to try to graft oneself onto the aura of Barack Obama, who popularized this summer practice, and to mark territory in a field where Feijóo would move with the ease of a sea bass in the middle of Plaça Catalunya. But sharing this lighthearted video while bodies are still being recovered near Ceuta and when the death toll, which may exceed a hundred victims, has not yet been finalized, is very uncomfortable to watch. We must consider that it was an accident.

(As every summer, ARA dedicates a series of Sunday Media articles to review television history. This year, we are rescuing some of the most notable channel changes that historical fictions experienced.)

Ten years ago, only 5% of people declared themselves to be little or not at all interested in the news, but in just a decade the percentage has tripled to 15%. If we look specifically at Spanish figures, it has gone from 1% in 2016 to 10% this year. This is data from the Reuters Institute's macro-survey, which also asked how many people disconnect from the news often or sometimes: from 29% it has risen to 42% (and from 26% to 37% in the Spanish case). All this shows that a substantial part of citizens are increasingly deciding to turn their backs on current events. This is what is called news fatigue, which affects the democratic health of countries and, understandably, has become one of the main headaches for the media.

Thirty-eight hours after some newspapers proclaimed from their front pages the “invasion” of Spain through the Ceuta border, it would be good to have access to a webcam that captured their astonished reactions when the vast majority of people who crossed the territorial limit returned home. Number of shots fired to guarantee territorial integrity: zero. Obviously, the case highlights the State's weakness in anticipating and managing such a phenomenon, but before loading the verbal Cetme with bombastic words, perhaps it is worth applying the principle of caution and looking at it with a bit of geopolitical perspective.

“The «invasion» of Ceuta”, headlines the The Reason, with a new use of cowardly quotes. “Ceuta, invaded”, seconds theAbc. And The World completes the trio of newspapers that narrate the migratory crisis with sharp and dire words that belong to the lexicon of war: “Morocco displays its power with the largest border assault”. These are editorial choices that highlight to what extent the far-right has imposed and normalized its mental framework. Using the same verb as when Russian troops entered Ukrainian territory reduces the issue to the old emotional resource of us-against-them. It is obvious that the Moroccan government uses migrant flows to strain relations with Spain, especially after Sánchez's approach to arch-enemy Algeria. And that the consequences of immigration deserve a deep, calm, and brave debate. But what public discussion can be had if it is all reduced to a dehumanizing caricature in which they are treated as mere pawns turned into invading soldiers of King Mohammed? The rest of the newspapers avoid speaking in terms of "assault or invasion, with the warlike connotation that is brought to the forefront: “collapse,” “massive entry,” or “avalanche” are some of the formulas chosen. The latter also causes me a bit of unease, because equating it to a natural disaster can also be dehumanizing and stigmatizing. But, despite everything, the treatments in the rest of the headlines are balanced and respect personal dignity.