Whose stories matter?

A brief analysis of Canadian media's coverage of Mexico's cartel violence

The news broke Sunday morning, shortly after Canada lost the Olympic gold to the United States. Global Affairs Canada had asked Canadians in Puerto Vallarta to shelter in place, the Toronto Star reported.

The killing of a major cartel boss by Mexico’s army had triggered a violent response that, were one to stick to the reports of Canadian news outlets, jeopardized the safety of our nationals abroad.

As the day progressed, reporters in Canada got hold of sources in the afflicted areas, and the news centred on the experience of Canadians in popular Mexico destinations, including Puerto Vallarta, Guadalajara or Chapala.

Flights had been cancelled, buses and cabs stalled operations, essential businesses shut down unannounced. The sight of black plumes of smoke in the distance, alongside the pop of exploding cars rattled Canadians, as hotel staff scrambled to reassure their safety indoors.

Lonely seafood cart in Guayabitos beach, north of Puerto Vallarta. Photo: me.

Two days later, the stories of beleaguered Canadians continue to make the news, but the experiences of the locals serving them, whose lives were also upended, remain untold in Canada.

One could argue that media outlets are simply responding to the priorities of their audience. Canadians want to know how their fellow citizens are faring abroad amidst a sprout of violence.

But news stories aren’t only an objective reporting of the facts as they happen, they also determine whose narratives are deemed important.

As journalist, I understand that reporting on Sunday’s events should begin with the experience of our fellow Canadians, but glossing over the impact cartel violence had over more than 9.5 million Mexicans living in the states of Jalisco and Nayarit is unacceptable.

Many of the vehicles torched belonged to people whose livelihood depended on moving people or goods; staff lost wages, if not their jobs altogether if their workplace was turned into ashes. Stuck at work, hotel workers worried about their family members’ whereabouts.

Perhaps the true lede of the story is that, for the first time of history, a large number of Canadians witnessed the horrors Mexicans experience daily. Their bubble of safety finally burst.

Few will talk about this, but chances are that the friendly server uncapping ice-cold cervezas at the beachfront bar has lost a loved one to cartel violence. Because their income depends on their ability to nourish a fantasy world for visitors, however, they smile and tell jokes.

That’s not the story Canadian media is telling, however.

Operating on a strained budget, newsrooms across Canada are increasingly losing the diversity of voices that would have enabled news outlets to produce more nuanced coverage.

Reporters fluent in Spanish, for example, could access on-the-ground, local reporting, and provide their audiences with a more accurate context in which to situate the experience of Canadians. Not to mention the over 90,000 immigrants of Mexican origin living in Canada, many of whom I’m sure would have a more reliable read of the situation in Mexico than a Canadian snowbird.

Our milquetoast coverage of Sunday’s incidents reveals the dire state of daily news in Canada — and a narrow understanding of the world is the price we pay for it.

An overwhelmingly homogenous group of people can’t possibly produce the well-rounded reporting we need to keep Canadians well informed, debunk myths and dispel stereotypes.

Lacking an adequate context, news can pick winners and losers, however subtly.

In this case, the result is that Canadian audiences are driven to feel empathy for the rattled tourists, whereas the suffering of the people whose kindness and openness we claim to cherish is little more than a passing thought. Perhaps, even, that Mexicans brought mayhem upon themselves.

Reluctantly yours,

Ximena