Media relations: strained

By JACK BRUBAKER

FIRST, FIVE BRUTAL murders.

Then a rush to report the news.

The Amish, like the non-Amish, are divided in their opinions about news coverage of the West Nickel Mines School shootings.

Some Amish believe an overbearing media added to the catastrophe that stunned Nickel Mines during the first week of October.

Now they want nothing to do with reporters.

"We’d just like to be left alone,’’ said a spokesman for Lancaster County’s Old Order Amish bishops. "These people are trying to get their lives back together. Don’t put pressure on the survivors.’’

The four bishops closest to the Nickel Mines area of Bart Township declined to discuss the community’s response to the shootings at the West Nickel Mines School.

Two formerly vocal members of the sect said their ministers have instructed them to stop talking to the press.

An Amish business owner in Georgetown explained his thinking: "We’re just trying to get back to normal. Everything would get back to normal faster if you’d just let us be.’’

But other Amish disagree. They spoke openly about the massacre and their community’s reaction to it.

"I think it’s important to talk about this — the way everybody responded to this thing,’’ said an Amish man who lives near Georgetown.

He explained that thousands of people have provided letters of sympathy and money to help the wounded children, so "it’s the people’s right to know, especially the condition of the surviving girls.’’

Because the tragedy has turned the world’s attention to the Amish, he added, "it’s an opportunity to share. We should be willing to let our light shine.’’

Cameras arrive

The intense news coverage immediately following the schoolhouse shootings shocked many members of a community that is never comfortable with publicity.

Nickel Mines and nearby Georgetown became ground zero of a media explosion as reporters from all over the world descended on an Amish community without radio and television.

Scores of TV crews with satellite transmitting equipment zeroed in on the schoolhouse. Newspaper reporters fanned out into the community. One reporter, wearing an outrageously inappropriate pink dress, tried to sneak into a funeral.

"The one thing that has been disappointing to the Amish is the news media and their feeding frenzy,’’ reported an Amish correspondent for The Budget, an Old Order weekly newspaper.

The media onslaught also disturbed the non-Amish community.

"In their pursuit of the news, they seem to have lost compassion and common courtesy,’’ Georgetown resident Aimee Miller wrote in a letter to the New Era.

The community waited patiently for the media to go away. After four days, following horse-drawn, police-escorted processions to the burial grounds, they did.

Divided opinion

When New Era reporters returned to prepare this series of stories, some members of an ordinarily cordial society were not welcoming.

The bishops’ spokesman gave several reasons for the church hierarchy’s decision not to comment.

The bishops believe the original reportage was overkill. They want no more attention paid to the schoolhouse violence. They don’t trust reporters to get the story right.

"I don’t think this is different from any other tragedy in the Amish community,’’ the spokesman added. "The community needs to heal, just like after any other accident.’’

An Amish farmer near Gordonville said much the same thing in more colorful language: "Let the water run down the stream, instead of kicking up the dust.’’

Even correspondents for Amish newspapers, aware that non-Amish reporters were reading, limited the information they provided.

"The parents and siblings need to move on, without constantly rehashing all those horrible details,’’ Paradise correspondents told Die Botschaft.

But other Amish felt differently. Without their contributions, this series of stories would have been diminished.

The man who lives near Georgetown said some Amish believe the story has been over-reported, "but they’ll be the first to read all about it in the paper.’’

He said the media "have been responsible through this whole ordeal. I kind of wish they would have said more.’’

Revisiting the story now, he noted, would be "a tribute to the girls and to the first responders.’’

An Amish resident of Nickel Mines explained reluctance to discuss the incident this way: "Some are just kind of uptight about getting in the outside world. But it’s not good to bottle it up and not talk about it.’’

However, he said he understands why many people don’t want to discuss what happened.

"Some don’t want a lot of fuss,’’ he explained. "People cope different. And we cope different one day than another.’’

Another Nickel Mines resident said, "Some Amish feel the press has the story. That’s enough. Move on. But there’s a lot of untold stories yet.’’

Because of the forgiveness extended to the killer’s family, he added, the Amish "have an opportunity to help other people move on the right path. We should do that. People are watching what we make of this.’’

Why no names

Because they know people are watching, Amish interviewed for this series asked that their names not be used.

In the first days after the shootings, several members of victims’ families and other Amish talked freely by name. But ministers intervened and that changed.

Photographs are always taboo. Now speaking by name is, too.

The reasons for that practice lie deeper than present circumstances.

The sect’s emphasis on humility, as well as the individual’s subservience to God and the community, dictate that no one should stand out from the group.

And there’s another factor.

"We don’t want to offend anyone,’’ explained the man near Georgetown. "If you say something someone else disagrees with, it could be offensive to them.’’

One of the Nickel Mines residents explained that he and his sister disagree about whether the Amish should talk to the press.

He’s a talker. She is mum.

But they do not disagree over whether names should be attached to opposing views.

He wouldn’t consider it, and neither would she.