Many journalists will agree that having a thick skin is a much-needed attribute for success in the industry. After all, reporters often bear the brunt of insults, rants and meltdowns that have resulted in them being called a “bunch of maggots” or “toxic little queens” (among other creative descriptors).

But although former mayor Rob Ford and actor Alec Baldwin may have their qualms with journalists, reporters have also been referred to as “watchdogs” who have an obligation to the truth, a loyalty to citizens and a duty to independently monitor power. 

The need for these duties is why many have criticized the Toronto Police Service’s (TPS) recent decision to use encrypted digital radios, irrevocably affecting journalists’ abilities to maintain their watchdog status, some say.

Until March, TPS used analog radios that allowed reporters to purchase and use scanners to overhear communications between police officers. Now, encrypted digital radios require individuals to provide a key — or code — to gain access to such information, effectively silencing the scanners crime reporters have relied on for so many years. 

The switch has not only cost journalists the ability to gain up-to-the-minute information about local crimes; it has also cost the city a whopping $50 million. 

According to TPS spokesperson Mark Pugash, the switch was mainly motivated by concerns over citizens’ privacy.

“We put out information over the air that can include people’s medical history, people’s criminal history, illnesses that they may have and issues that we may be investigating them for,” said Pugash. “When you have a tool that allows you to protect peoples’ privacy, it seems to me that you’re duty bound and honour bound to do it.” 

Pugash additionally expressed concerns over the media’s “sense of entitlement” in accessing such information.

“The law says private information is private.… And we cannot release that information unless we have the legal authority to do it,” said Pugash.

Aaron Schwartz, a media and privacy lawyer in Toronto, explained that the legalities of police scanners in Canada centre around the Radio communications Act. While hacking into encrypted radios has legal consequences — including a fine up to $25,000, a year in prison or both — this is not the case with analog radio communications. 

“There was nothing illegal about listening in on a police scanner,” said Schwartz. “There’s no special law that applies to journalists.”

Having worked on the crime desk with the Toronto Sun for the past 10 years, Chris Doucette has seen the evolution of crime reporting first-hand. 

When he started as a part-time crime reporter 13 years ago, he worked with five other journalists in a “radio room” that housed about 12 radios to overhear communications amongst police officers, firefighters and emergency services. 

If a reporter heard any buzzwords over the radio — like “collision” or “PI” for personal injury — they would assemble as much relevant information as possible before calling the staff sergeant of the division and heading to the scene.

Today, Doucette manages the crime desk alone and relies on the TPS Operations Centre Twitter feed for information — a method of communication that leaves much to be desired, according to Doucette.

But, in his career, he hasn’t seen a single issue arise over citizens’ privacy.

“There’s not that much personal information that comes out over the scanners because it’s happening so quickly.… You would never, ever use any of that [information] without getting it confirmed on the record from somebody,” said Doucette.

With the lack of legal repercussions through using police scanners — and journalists’ avoidance of solely using scanner information — Doucette and privacy lawyer Aaron Schwartz can’t help but hypothesize about other reasons that led TPS to switch. 

“Coding — protection through digital means — is a way of controlling things, of maintaining power or gaining power,” said Schwartz. “Privacy isn’t a very big aspect of this, I don’t think.… I would argue for the journalist, then, that it gives the police too much control over information. And that’s a very dangerous thing in society.” 

This reminds Doucette of an eye-opening moment he had in March when former police chief Bill Blair spoke with the media about the decision to switch to encrypted digital radios.

“We were talking about, ‘Well, how do these guys in TPS Operations know what we’re interested in and what’s newsworthy?’” said Doucette. “[The chief’s] quote was something along the lines of, they’ll decide what’s newsworthy. And that to me — it stuck with me. And I remember thinking, ‘Wow, Toronto police get to decide what’s newsworthy.’ That’s scary, isn’t it?” 

After all, when Doucette covered the five shootings that occurred in April on Driftwood Avenue, he didn’t see a single tweet from TPS Operations at the time. 

“It’s a give and take relationship, and with the way it’s gone … it’s a lot more take than it is give on the police end,” said Doucette. “It creates a bit of a divide in the relationship.” 

This divide is one that has certainly become evident to Post City Magazines. Whereas TPS’s website provided a wealth of accessible information — including press releases and major crime reports with information on robberies, street crimes and break-ins — for more than 10 years, it is not the same today. Additionally, Post City’s editorial team stopped receiving emails from TPS about break-in details that fell within the publication’s distribution area more than a year and a half ago.

“They don’t publish all of the crimes; they just pick and choose which ones they’re going to publish,” said the publisher of Post City Magazines. “We requested that they continue to provide the information — that the residents look to it because these crimes occur often in patterns and people need to take appropriate precautions.… Toronto Police Service refused and now we must obtain this formerly available information through the formal process of freedom of information requests, and all of the break-in information that we provide readers is now less current than it used to be.”

This division between the police and the media is nothing new, according to Ryerson University associate journalism professor Paul Knox. The switch to encrypted radios, for example, only reflects this high degree of institutional friction, Knox said. 

“In the last two to four years, there’s been a lot that has happened that hasn’t reflected well on the police force,” said Knox, citing TPS’s reaction to the G20 summit and their propensity toward racial profiling. “A lot of that has been presented in the media or actually resulted in news media investigations. I think that’s one reason for the tense relationship.” 

Perhaps most importantly, however, TPS’s control over information speaks to the greater issue of the journalist’s ability to ignite change in communities that so desperately need it. 

As Doucette sat in his car near the scene of Driftwood Avenue, he explained, “The whole point is, if we’re here, city councillors are paying attention. The deputy police chiefs or the police chief and the division commanders, they’re all paying attention,” said Doucette. 

“And as a result of that, there’s a community rally here at five o’clock in the community centre tonight. That’s what’s supposed to happen … we let people know there is a problem.… If we don’t talk about it, then nothing will be done about it.”