Exploring the historical and present harms of journalism
As student journalists, we should make Indigenous perspectives a priority in our storytelling, not an afterthought.

Newsrooms often pride themselves on being “objective” or “neutral.” “What are the facts of the story?” they ask. But for Indigenous communities, this “objectivity” has often acted as a mask for prejudice, misrepresentation, and distrust. 

The concept of objective journalism initially arose, not as a call for “unbiased” reporting, but rather a call to make reporting more scientific. However, in the words of Trina Roache, a prominent Indigenous reporter, this objectivity has turned journalism from an art of “storytelling” to merely “story-taking.” This has been historically weaponized to neglect Indigenous voices and perspectives in the stories that impact them the most. 

Inside the newsroom

To understand how and why this happens, the first place we might want to peep into is the actual newsrooms where the magic happens. And let’s be real, when it comes to diversity, Canadian newsrooms still have a lot of work to do. According to the Canadian Association of Journalists’ 2023 Diversity Survey, Indigenous journalists make up just 5.2% of newsroom staff, almost exactly in line with their share of the Canadian population. But with just a little digging, the picture becomes much more complicated.

Most of these journalists are in either part-time or entry-level roles, and Indigenous voices are almost entirely absent from leadership positions. These leadership positions, as you might have guessed, are still predominantly white and male.

So, what does this lack of representation mean for the news we consume? It means that stories about Indigenous communities are often shaped by perspectives that are not

their own. Take, for example, the tragic case of Joyce Echaquan, an Indigenous woman who died in a Quebec hospital after nurses subjected her to racist abuse. Early reports focused on her death as a medical issue, but the systemic racism she faced leading to the lack of proper treatment and abuse only came to light after Indigenous advocates spoke out. Imagine if there had been more Indigenous journalists in the newsroom when this story broke. Would the coverage have been more empathetic? Would the broader context of racism in healthcare have been clearer from the start? It’s hard to say, but the impact of misrepresentation is undeniable.

And here’s the thing: when communities feel misrepresented or excluded from the media narrative, trust in the press takes a hit. For many Indigenous and racialized communities, news organizations are seen as outsiders: institutions that either overlook their stories or misframe them entirely. When marginalized communities don’t trust journalists, they’re less likely to engage with the media, which makes it harder to tell their stories.

The pitfalls of objectivity and bolstering stereotypes

Appealing to objectivity, especially in classic news stories, allows journalists a ready-made formula for ignoring a nuanced colonial history and writing articles based on how much digital traction, emotion, and public attention they can garner.  When Indigenous people are covered in the media, it’s often through a narrow and damaging lens: as victims, rebels, or “good Indians” who’ve successfully assimilated.

Crystal Maslin’s research into Saskatchewan newspapers highlights how these stereotypes show up. Indigenous people are portrayed either as “troublemakers” or as model citizens who don’t rely on government support, which conveniently ignores the larger structural issues at play.

Take the Oka Crisis, for example. When Mohawk activists clashed with the Canadian Army over land rights, the media reduced a deeply complex struggle for Indigenous sovereignty to a simple “us vs. them” narrative. Instead of unpacking the broader history of colonialism and land dispossession, the coverage focused on the confrontation itself, missing the bigger picture entirely.

A lot of it boils down to sensationalized news framing that treat complex issues like the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG) crisis as tragic statistics, rather than a call for justice. Too often, Indigenous women are portrayed only as victims, stripping away the agency of survivors and the voices of their families. This narrow lens does nothing to address the systemic violence at the heart of the crisis.

Similar sensationalization was observed during the media frenzy around the discovery of unmarked graves at the former Kamloops Residential School. Journalists rushed to cover the story, but in their haste, they ignored the cultural and emotional needs of the Indigenous families and communities who were mourning. As Kelsie Kilawna, an Indigenous advocate pointed out, Indigenous mourning traditions were treated with little regard, making the media coverage feel exploitative rather than compassionate.

But the problem doesn’t stop with news stories. Online comment sections, particularly in outlets like the National Post, are full of racist and hateful language that goes largely unmoderated. It’s a toxic environment that fuels division, and it’s one of the reasons why outlets like CBC had to shut down comments on Indigenous articles altogether.

The cycle of underrepresentation and mistrust can be so damaging. If we want to break it, we need to start by diversifying newsroom staff, leadership, and decision-making. This isn’t just about checking boxes, it’s about ensuring that the stories we tell reflect the full, complex reality of the world we live in. For Indigenous communities, it would require us to be more critical of “objectivity” that often fails to capture the full truth of their stories.

So how exactly do we approach news reporting with indigenous communities to decolonize newsrooms and journalism? Anishinaabe journalist Duncan McCue, who teaches a course on Indigenous reporting at UBC, advocates for a trauma-informed approach. His approach, which centers resilience over victimhood, reframes Indigenous people not just as victims but as communities that rise, challenge, and endure, even in the face of historical injustice.

Safeguarding journalists means protecting free speech

Therefore, the stakes are high, and not just in Canada. Globally, journalists who report on colonized and marginalized communities face life-threatening risks. Since the onset of the Israel-Palestine conflict, over 180 journalists have lost their lives while documenting the realities of genocide and occupation at the hands of Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu’s right-wing extremist government. And while the Israeli government denies and avoids any accountability or recognition, evidence suggesting the deliberate targeting of journalists cannot be ignored. 

Their dedication highlights just how crucial it is in the context of settler-colonialism, to tell stories of resilience and survival with care and criticism. Media outlets like Al Jazeera, which are committed to amplifying voices from conflict-ridden regions, remind us that thoughtful, human-centered journalism has a critical role in exposing injustice worldwide. Amidst all of this, Netflix has allegedly removed a catalogue of its films and documentaries centering the Palestinian experience, a decision which has been met with justified skepticism and criticism. 

In the context of student-run newspapers like The Medium, we have a unique responsibility to lead this change, starting with our approach to Indigenous stories. 

This starts with shifting our approach to Indigenous issues, making their voices central to the conversation, not just as subjects, but as active contributors. Simple steps, like regularly consulting Indigenous communities and ensuring Indigenous journalists and students are part of the reporting process, can make a transformative impact. As student journalists, we should make Indigenous perspectives a priority, not an afterthought.