Newfoundland columnist sees Trump press parallels in NL
Yes—Newfoundland columnist Bob Wakeham argues there is a parallel. Trump's White House press bans last week revived his view that NL politicians have long punished skeptical journalists through boycotts and scolding, though he says the province has never seen Trump-scale hatred of the press.
In a Sept. 28 column for The Telegram, Wakeham used Trump's bid to block disliked news agencies and reporters from White House access as a reminder that politicians everywhere resent journalists who challenge policy or raise awkward questions.
From long experience covering Newfoundland and Labrador, he concludes local leaders have typically shared a self-aggrandizing urge to protect the political "message"—and to criticize those who refuse to act as glorified stenographers.
Key Takeaways
- Wakeham says NL politicians have long bristled at skeptical coverage, even without a Trump-like figure locally.
- He cites boycotts and scolding involving Danny Williams, Brian Peckford, Clyde Wells, and Bill Marshall.
- Separately, Trump barred CNN, MS NOW, and Politico from the White House; the outlets sued citing the First Amendment.
- Wakeham tells younger reporters to treat politicians' words as self-serving and electability-driven.
What did Trump do to the press last week?
According to an op-ed on we are mitú, President Donald Trump barred CNN, MS NOW, and Politico from the White House, revoking those journalists' press credentials amid his "fake news" campaign.
The three outlets filed suit in the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, calling the ban a direct assault on the First Amendment. ABC, CBS, NBC, and Fox News then refused to participate in the White House press pool in protest.
Wakeham framed those moves as childish attempts to demolish hard-won press freedoms—and as the spark for his Newfoundland comparison.
How have Newfoundland politicians treated journalists?
Wakeham grants that Newfoundland has not hosted a Trump-like figure with shameless, out-and-out hatred for the press. Still, he says most local politicians could react almost childlike when stories upset them or when reporters asked tough questions.
He recalls Premier Danny Williams boycotting the CBC after Wakeham mentioned Williams's divorce on a panel, and remaining angry that journalists pressed him to explain traveling to the United States for heart surgery while leading provincial health care. Williams also cut off dealings with then-local CBC reporter David Cochrane, Wakeham writes.
Brian Peckford once mocked him in a scrum over questions about a minister's improper hiring, and separately boycotted the CBC—a ban that ended comedically when Peckford interviewed a reporter he thought worked for NTV who had actually been hired by CBC.
Premier Clyde Wells told CBC vice president Donna Logan he was upset with Here and Now coverage; she relayed that to supper-hour producers, including Wakeham. House Leader Bill Marshall, he adds, bristled when Wakeham pressed patronage-tinged appointments in a legislature scrum.
Why does Wakeham say the parallel still matters?
The bottom line, Wakeham argues, is that friendly Newfoundland is not immune to politicians who want every word reported without skepticism. He learned early not to be intimidated by bully-boy or bully-girl tactics.
His counsel to younger colleagues still covering power: politicians are forever self-serving, and nearly every word or action is designed to make them look good and electable. Keep that context close.
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