--- title: "My approach to work" author: "Jakub Ćwirlej" id: approach language: en url: "https://jakubcwirlej.com/articles/approach.md" page: "https://jakubcwirlej.com/" translations: pl: "https://jakubcwirlej.com/pl/articles/approach.md" fr: "https://jakubcwirlej.com/fr/articles/approach.md" nl: "https://jakubcwirlej.com/nl/articles/approach.md" updated: 2026-10-14 words: 832 summary: "For the author, journalism is above all a way of getting to know the world and of constant learning, and also a form of service: whatever his mood or the risk, his job is to deliver the story, because people have a right to know. He argues that television is never objective, since subjectivity begins with the choice of shots and continues through editing, and that the real ethical obligation is not to waste the viewer's time. He explains his careful preparation on location and why he never sought awards." summary_type: editorial --- # My approach to work Jakub Ćwirlej · text language: EN · 832 words ## Summary (editorial) For the author, journalism is above all a way of getting to know the world and of constant learning, and also a form of service: whatever his mood or the risk, his job is to deliver the story, because people have a right to know. He argues that television is never objective, since subjectivity begins with the choice of shots and continues through editing, and that the real ethical obligation is not to waste the viewer's time. He explains his careful preparation on location and why he never sought awards. ## Key points (editorial) - He follows the BBC and Radio France and values their ethical principles, but considers many claims to absolute objectivity cynical. - He suggests newsrooms should openly declare the worldview they consider dominant. - Preparing a story includes visiting the location in advance to check the space and the light. - He did not send his reportages to festivals: he did not feel entitled to be the “author” of other people's stories and chose to be a reliable team player. ## Full text (the author's own words) Journalism, and television work in particular, is above all a way of getting to know the world – a pass to places and people I would never have reached otherwise. Curiosity drew me into journalism, and it is curiosity that still keeps me in the profession. After 20 years, I am still learning. That learning is not a choice, though; it is a condition of the job. A journalist constantly faces subjects they knew little about only the day before, and in most cases there is no getting anywhere without thorough research. Laws change, circumstances change, the people a story concerns change. That is why in this profession you never cover the same story twice – even when the problems look deceptively similar. Two families struck by the same tragedy are still two different stories, and what was true three years ago is often no more than a starting point today. For many of my friends in the industry, journalism is something like a form of service. That approach is close to me too – despite the fact that it has none of the formal structures of the army or the police, and that for most of my career I could count on nothing more than being paid by the piece. There was never any question of privileges, the protective umbrella of the state or institutional security. And yet I’ve always felt that a similar burden of duty rests on us. Whether I’m feeling better or worse on a given day, whether a story is personally unpleasant for me or even puts me in physical danger, my job is simply to “deliver” it. People have a right to know, and my role is to bring them that knowledge. That is exactly why today’s claims to absolute objectivity irritate me so much. It’s not that I don’t respect the classic standards — day to day I alternate between the BBC and Radio France, and I deeply value their ethical principles. But let’s be honest: for absolutely every broadcaster, the boundary between objectivity and subjectivity begins and ends exactly where its editorial line puts it. In many other cases these claims are downright cynical: journalistic ethos used as a fig leaf, purely to smuggle in one’s own views. It would be far more honest if every newsroom officially declared which worldview it considers dominant. The truth is — and this is something I’ve come to understand more deeply after years of working on location — that television is never objective, by definition. Subjectivity starts at the level of technology and the choice of shots. The camera operator’s decision alone, whether to shoot handheld (which gives a shot a nervous energy) or to put the camera on a tripod, is a conscious choice that immediately shapes the narrative and the emotional response. And then, of course, there’s the editing, the selection of information and the sound. A television image is always someone’s interpretation of reality. For me, real journalistic ethics comes down to an unwritten contract with the viewer: my most important obligation is not to waste their time. That means telling stories in a way that engages and intrigues, even if the same universal themes of human drama and joy have been playing out on our screens for decades. In the unforgiving world of public-interest journalism, done under enormous time pressure, I learned to balance an authorial vision with brutal pragmatism. It isn’t just about holding a camera or asking hard questions. It’s about giving a voice to those who have none, and using visual language so that it builds a connection, strikes the right chords and resonates with the audience. That, in turn, demands a craftsman’s humility and rigorous preparation. For me, researching a story isn’t just a preliminary conversation with the people in it. It means turning up at the location well in advance to check the layout of the space, to work out how the light will fall during the shoot and which side the sun will come from. This purely analytical, almost engineering side of the work on location lets me plan the shoot with a cool head, so that later, at the crucial moment, I can focus entirely on the person and their story. I never chased industry awards or sent my reportages to festivals. There were two reasons. First, when telling the story of someone else’s life, often of someone’s personal tragedy, I could never feel like the “author” of those stories — I simply didn’t think I had the moral right. Second, over the years I deliberately built a reputation as someone who was not a temperamental, go-it-alone artist but a reliable team player. I consciously traded artistic pretensions for a smooth workflow. I made pieces for the programme editors — efficiently, on deadline, without needless arguments. I made sure the wheels of the machine turned without a hitch. I firmly believe that telling important stories and having a real impact on the world doesn’t require building a monument to the person who tells them. --- Jakub Ćwirlej — Journalist who builds with AI · on the site: https://jakubcwirlej.com/ Full context: https://jakubcwirlej.com/context/en.md · https://jakubcwirlej.com/llms.txt