Red Wolf_ A Novel - Liza Marklund [86]
Herman Wennergren took a careful sip from the china cup with pouting lips and his little finger sticking out. He swallowed a small mouthful, then said, ‘It’s possible that the other groups are gathering their forces. We shouldn’t crack open the champagne just yet, but I think I can get you through as chair. And once you’re there, at the board’s first meeting, I want you to raise a particular question that’s of the utmost importance to our proprietors.’
Anders Schyman leaned back in his chair and concentrated on keeping his expression completely neutral, as the true nature of his elevation dawned on him: he was expected to be the proprietors’ weapon on the ostensibly unbiased and apolitical forum that the Newspaper Publishers’ Association purported to be.
‘I see,’ Schyman said blankly. ‘What question would that be?’
Wennergren was chewing a caramel slice. ‘TV Scandinavia,’ he said, brushing some crumbs from the corners of his mouth. ‘Are we really going to allow American capital onto our airwaves without any real debate?’
The second front, Schyman thought; the one being lost. The old boy really is worried.
‘I thought it was being debated everywhere,’ he said, not sure if he should be annoyed at the attempt to direct him as a lobbyist, or if he should pretend it was bad news.
‘Of course,’ Herman Wennergren said, wiping his fingers on a napkin. ‘How many articles have we had about it in the Evening Post?’
Anders Schyman stood up rather than raise his voice, and went over to sit at his desk.
Never before had the family that owned the paper exerted any pressure on him to write on issues where they had economic interests. He understood immediately what a large and sensitive issue the launch of the American channel must be for them.
‘A precondition of me enjoying any sort of respect in the publishing community is that I maintain a critical and independent line towards our proprietors in all circumstances,’ he said, picking up a pen without using it.
‘Naturally,’ Herman Wennergren said, getting to his feet. He picked up his briefcase and buttoned his coat. ‘An independent line, of course, to anyone looking on. But you’re not stupid, Schyman. You know who you work for, don’t you?’
‘Journalism,’ Anders Schyman said, feeling his temper fraying. ‘Truth and democracy.’
Herman Wennergren gave a tired sigh. ‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘But you also appreciate what’s at stake. How the hell are we going to get shot of TV Scandinavia?’
‘Make sure they don’t get a broadcasting licence,’ Schyman said at once.
Wennergren sighed louder. ‘Obviously,’ he said. ‘But how? We’ve tried everything. The government is completely unshakeable. This American consortium fulfils all the criteria for access to the digital broadcast network. The proposal is up in parliament next Tuesday, and the Ministry of Culture isn’t going to change its conditions just because we want it to.’
‘As soon as that?’ Schyman said. ‘So it must be done and dusted then?’
‘All the committee stages and consultation were finished long ago, but you know what Minister Björnlund is like. She has trouble getting anything done, let alone on time. We’ve checked with the parliamentary print office, and they haven’t received the text yet.’
Schyman looked down at his desk, and in one corner of the latest balance sheet were the words he had scribbled down as he had considered how hard he should be on Annika Bengtzon.
Karina Björnlund engaged terrorist Ragnwald, blew up plane F21????
He stared at the words, feeling the pressure rise.
What did he want the media landscape in Sweden to look like in the future? Did he want the Swedish media to continue its long tradition of pursuing issues like democracy and freedom of expression? Or could he let them be stifled by a global, dollar-rich entertainment giant? Could he deliberately put the Evening Post, the Morning News, the publishing companies, radio and television channels at risk, purely because he insisted on maintaining his form of mute and stereotypical ethics? Ethics that no one would ever know that