Suicide: The perils of self-censorship

BY JAMES HOLLINGS

IT IS an intriguing coincidence that the recent upsurge in debate about reporting of suicide by the New Zealand media comes on the eve of the 10th anniversary of the worst suicide bombing of our times.

Intriguing, because under New Zealand's draconian media law, it is conceivable that, were jets full of suicidal ideologues to plunge into the Beehive, the news media would be inclined to report it with the Soviet-era phrasing it has taken to using where suicides are suspected: "The police are not seeking anyone else in connection with the incident."

The above example may be slightly fanciful, but that such lunacy is hypothetically possible is a reflection of two very strange features of suicide reporting in New Zealand, one of which does not reflect very well on the news media at all.

The first feature, which has been periodically debated, and is again in the news, is that the news media here are supposedly prevented under the 2006 Coroners Act from describing anything as a suicide until a coroner has ruled that it is.

As coroners often take months or years to gather the evidence and make rulings, this means that cases such as the recent Feilding triple death are simply reported using the catchphrase above, and the public is left to guess themselves that this means the victims probably killed themselves.

Most, if not all, deaths in New Zealand where suicide is suspected are reported by the news media in this way. This contrasts with most other countries, where the news media will often not only immediately label a death a suicide, but report freely on the mode of death, whether hanging, drugs or whatever.

The reason for the extraordinary level of censorship in the New Zealand media is that suicide prevention researchers have argued successfully that research shows that publicity about suicides in the news media increases the risk of "contagion"; in other words that publicity is likely to suggest to people in a suicidal state that suicide is a viable option, and thus increase the risk of them taking such action.

There is still considerable debate around this research, particularly whether it is still relevant to police only the news media when so many other social media, such as texting and Facebook, are notionally also restrained, but effectively unpoliced.

The validity or otherwise of that research is not my area of expertise, but I do believe there is a more significant risk which has been largely ignored in the debate so far.

This is the second feature mentioned – whether self-censorship by the New Zealand media is a good thing, and if it is even necessary.

We should be clear that this censorship is in fact self-censorship. This is because Section 71 of the Coroners Act 2006 does not specifically prevent news media from using the word suicide. All it does is say that it should not make public before an inquest "any particulars relating to the manner in which the death occurred if there is reasonable cause to believe the death was self-inflicted".

After the inquest, restrictions are even tighter; unless the coroner specifically agrees, the media can report only the name, address, occupation of the deceased and that the coroner found the death to be self-inflicted.

The news media have interpreted this "manner of death" phrase to mean whether the death was suicide or homicide – a very wide interpretation.

They have been reassured in this by the Coroner's Office, whose website also takes the wider view of the phrase, and explicitly instructs the news media not to use the word "suicide" in relation to a death until the coroner has ruled.

But another interpretation could be that "manner of death" simply refers to whether the death was by hanging, drugs or whatever.

Media law experts John Burrows and Ursula Cheer, whose Media Law in New Zealand is still our definitive text on media law, acknowledge this point, saying "manner of death would obviously cover the mode of death (eg, by shooting or drowning), but it is not so clear whether it prohibits an intimation that the death was by suicide".

They go on to suggest caution, however: "Even if does not, however, such an intimation is prejudging the outcome of the inquest, and is probably undesirable for that reason."

Is it, though?

Caution may be justifiable in criminal cases where the news media are prohibited from reporting anything which may prejudice a fair trial by influencing a jury.

But in suicides, I would argue that it is sometimes extremely desirable for the news media to perform their traditional constitutional role of raising difficult questions.

What if the police said a death was self-inflicted, but relatives were saying otherwise? What if, God forbid, an officer shot someone and made it look like a suicide? Such cases are not unheard of overseas, but, under current New Zealand media rules, the reporter would be inclined to report virtually nothing about the death until an official body had ruled.

This news vacuum makes it much less likely that crucial witnesses with alternative views come forward in the days and weeks immediately afterwards when memories are fresh.

The news media do not have some of the investigative powers of the police or courts – they can't summon witnesses, for example – but they have other advantages the official bodies do not. People who will not talk to the police, will often talk to the media. Publicity about a case can often encourage remote or reluctant witnesses to come forward who may move on or forget what they know by the time the wheels of justice have ground forward.

This act of self-censorship is especially bizarre when the chief coroner himself, Judge Neil MacLean, acknowledges that while he feels the act intended the wider interpretation, Burrows and Cheers' book shows that Section 71 is open to two interpretations.

He told me that he has great respect for Burrows and that if he sees ambiguity, then Section 71 may be worth clarifying. "If he thinks it's a matter for debate, then I agree."

WHY HAS the New Zealand news media never tested this provision? No media in New Zealand has ever been prosecuted and fined the maximum $1000 for pushing the boundaries by consistently expanding their reporting of the circumstances of suicides before an inquest has been held.

It has instead found it convenient to virtually abandon its investigative role to coroners, who are often overstretched and constrained by their own official role.

This self-censorship is disturbing when you consider that it is the role of the news media to test the limits of free speech. This is what The New York Times did when it published the Pentagon Papers – it was sued and won, and as a result was able to better inform its readers about the Vietnam War.

It is not inconceivable that such a test case would find that Section 71 doesn't align with the Bill of Rights Act, which frowns on any restraint on freedom of expression unless there are reasonable grounds to do so.

Victoria University media law specialist Steven Price believes parliament may not have looked carefully enough at this aspect of Section 71 before it passed the act, instead leaving the issue in the hands of coronial discretion.

I would argue that even if coroners were infallible, it is unhealthy for this investigative role to be left solely to them. A healthy society needs more than one watchdog, and needs watchdogs that watch and sometimes help each other.

I have direct experience of this. As a health reporter in Wellington in the 1990s, I sometimes heard about suicides where the family felt there had been a deficit in care from mental health authorities.

It was much harder to report or investigate these because of the reporting restrictions. It is not easy to write stories about such deaths using euphemisms such as "sudden death".

In the occasional instance where a family felt there had been some official failing, but there was no coroner's finding to that effect, this lack of reporting meant the public had no way of knowing whether the causes of the sometimes preventable deaths had ever been fixed.

Of course, I could have asked the coroner for permission in every case – but often investigations by journalists start simply with a hunch, and writing the first story is part of that investigation – helping draw out potential witnesses. If I had had to ask permission every time, without any solid facts to go on, would the coroner have been always helpful?

I suspect that for many journalists in New Zealand, having to ask permission is simply too hard. And does the public really want an unelected public official to decide whether a journalist can write a story? Do coroners really want to be in that position? I suspect not.

In the past 15 years, I have read of the periodic frustrations of Wellington coroner Garry Evans of the failings of mental health services, frustrations met with routine promises of reform. Perhaps things might have been different, and one or two suicides prevented, if more public scrutiny had been possible.

James Hollings is a lecturer in journalism at Massey University.

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