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Author Alexandra Stanić: “Attitude doesn’t make me a bad journalist”

Even as a child, Alexandra Stanić saw how society was drifting to the right. A conversation about a lack of solidarity and your own mistakes. more...

Deutsch (original) ·Auto-translated to English

taz: Ms. Stanić, in Saxony-Anhalt an AfD politician became president of the state parliament for the first time. You experienced right-wing sayings in your parents' inn. What does that make you feel?

Alexandra Stanić: This development was to be expected. There were glimmers of hope in the 1990s, but we have long since found ourselves in a right-wing society, no longer in a shift to the right. It terrifies me that we know the consequences and still watch. Already at the age of ten I understood that there was an “us and them”. Although my parents ran the inn, they were dependent on the Austrian regulars. And the rich owner looked down on them.

taz: You criticize that the media reinforces right-wing narratives. Where do you particularly observe this?

Alexandra Stanić: "Foreigner brat. About the painful experience of never belonging", 192 pages, Goldmann, 2026, 18 €

Stanić: With women who wear headscarves and with young refugee men. These are hot spots lit by the media. Syrian men from a Vienna club helped clean up during the floods in Austria. Why do we see such examples so rarely? I believe that for clicks, many media companies accept that they will make grievances worse through distorted or disproportionate reporting.

taz: How should you then report on the AfD?

Alexandra Stanić is a journalist and expert in feminist and digital discourses. She speaks about social justice, sexuality and hate online on social media as well as in lectures and panels. Alexandra Stanić was chief reporter at the Vienna city magazine “BIBER” and at “VICE Austria”. She lives in Vienna.

Stanić: Extremely critical and with a lot of context. I no longer take part in television discussions with right-wing politicians. I was supposed to discuss this with Austria's former Vice Chancellor Heinz-Christian Strache. Then I thought: What's the point? I understand if others want to reach people like that. But can I, as a lesbian Bosnian guest worker's daughter, sit in this group without these people judging me for my existence?

taz: You advocate journalism with attitude. How do you prevent your own beliefs from determining your research?

Stanić: When it comes to a report about poverty in old age, the facts speak for themselves, no matter how unfair I think the situation is. It becomes problematic when I want to change the framing. But no one can turn off their own perspective. An attitude doesn't make me a bad journalist. Those who do not reflect on their own perspective and privileges are more problematic. By the way, I made a mistake myself. A few years ago I interviewed the Serbian war criminal Vojislav Šešelj. Instead of an argument, I subsequently classified his statements and attached an opinion piece. My stance was clear. Nevertheless, today I think: what for? I shouldn't have done the interview at all. I would have preferred to talk to survivors of his atrocities. Or with Serbian activists who are hostile because of their work against nationalism. What was the point of giving him this platform?

taz: You are calling for state funding for journalistic content creators. How do you prevent political dependencies?

Stanić: My job as a journalist is to highlight problems so that those responsible and those making decisions can find solutions. A committee made up of politics, social work and business should set criteria for funding independently of the government and parties. Protection against attacks is also important, for example through community management. People like me work 20 jobs alone and fear being attacked on the street. I don't have the solution for everything. But instead of inviting us to exchange ideas every year, the state should support us. I don't need an exchange, brother. I need Para.

taz: Should conservative offers also be supported?

Stanić: What does conservative mean? Everything that protects, promotes and demands a progressive society should receive support. A man who lives in the country with his wife and children and conveys a different image of masculinity? I would support him. Or a church that takes in refugees and lets a trans woman speak. I don't support anyone who demands that women should stay at home. Either you are for a good life for all or you are not.

taz: In your school class, Austrian working-class children hardly expressed solidarity with migrant children, even though they had similar experiences of poverty. Why?

Stanić: I think they wanted to be middle class kids, with a swimming pool and vacation trips. They could rise above the fact that there were still poor foreign children. The reality of our lives is much closer to that of people at risk of poverty. All it takes is a stroke of fate, an illness, a separation. But many still prefer to identify with the uber-rich like Musk instead of feeling solidarity with people who struggle more than us. A friend on the school bus suddenly ignored me. I thought I was boring. Years later, her sister told me: Her mother had forbidden her to play with the foreign child. There I had proof of something that you often can't name as a child. At university I had completely different experiences with other working-class children.

taz: You want a common left-wing identity. How can solidarity arise when people have similar social interests but think very differently socially?

Stanić: If we ask what keeps us awake at night, my worries as a lesbian guest worker's daughter are perhaps similar to those of a 60-year-old man who can barely live on his pension after an injury at work. We are united by the fear of losing our home. I came out late and thought my family wouldn't accept me. But I underestimated them, as did the ex-Yugoslav diaspora from whom I received a lot of support. My dad is 76 and was a guest worker. He doesn't know what queerness means. Nevertheless, he brought my girlfriend and I each a quince from our garden in Bosnia. That was his way of saying: I accept you. Now we go to my parents’ house every Sunday. You don't have to understand everything for this togetherness.

Originally published bytaz
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