What journalists can learn from theatre
Frank Moher

Okay, but let’s be careful when we call Ken Whyte a journalist. There are real journalists out there, sitting in boring legislatures and city councils taking notes, investigating and reporting as objectively as they can on important stories. Whyte has never been one of those: he was a pet of the notoriously fact-averse Alberta Report, and went on to beat his right-wing, fact-averse drum in Saturday Night and the National Post.

I remember Ken Whyte very well. When I was trying to write for magazines in the 1990s, he passed on a query I sent to Saturday Night to profile the federal prison for women in Edmonton, focusing on how the Canadian criminal justice system treats women (look up Lisa Neve if you want your hair curled). So Whyte didn’t like that story but did publish a piece in Saturday Night — the Canadian flagship magazine — about what happened in a small American town when a film star thought she might buy real estate there (written by a Canadian woman who wrote a feminist backlash book full of factual errors: I reviewed the book for The Edmonton Journal before they started stealing copyright).

Whyte was in journalism, but he’s no journalist. He’s a slightly less appalling prototype for Ezra Levant. His horrid tweet is nothing but a desperate attempt to postpone total irrelevance.

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