The wave of interest in every move Lewis Hamilton makes at Scuderia Ferrari shows no signs of stopping. After last week’s public frenzy, the Maranello team moved everything to Barcelona, organizing tests at the Circuit de Catalunya that were supposed to be more private but ultimately were not. This is understandable in an era where anyone with a smartphone can become a reporter. But owning a device does not make someone a professional. This article aims to address that dynamic.
A very brief step back. On Wednesday, at Montmeló, Lewis Hamilton crashed into the wall. The causes of the incident are unknown, as no detailed report has been released, and there are no certainties about how it happened. A journalistic acknowledgment goes to those who promptly reported the news, namely, Franco Nugnes, the Editor in chief of Motorsport Italy. And don’t be surprised by the full mention: there are still those in this industry who are driven by ethical integrity.
This is the fact from which the reasoning flows. What happened immediately afterward? Given the private nature of the test and considering that no one could claim to be on-site while being many kilometers away, the news was taken, and additional details were added—details entirely based on personal reconstructions with no factual basis whatsoever.
Some claimed the car was completely destroyed, others emphasized that the driver walked away on his own, hinting at a major crash. Some blamed the track, suggesting an uneven surface was fatal for the seven-time Formula 1 world champion. Others, true to their nature and mission, felt the need to find technical reasons behind something entirely normal at this stage of the season. Few pointed to a driver error—something understandable when pushing the limits on an unrubbered track with an unfamiliar and temperamental car, equipped with Brembo discs that do not respond the same way as the Carbon Industries ones Lewis Hamilton is used to after years with Mercedes.
In the following hours, the usual self-sustaining mechanism kicked in: remote presentialism. The absent party who, at all costs, must prove themselves a witness to the facts, even without directly implying their presence—adding unnecessary details to claim ownership of a news item and repackage it for an eager audience.
This leads to reconstructions, analyses, conjectures, and those typical narrative patterns centered around whispers and hearsay. Those “insider” sources coming from a friend of a friend who supposedly shared insights that, in reality, remain within the well-insulated walls of the motorhomes. But wouldn’t it be more ethically sound, and professionally dignified, to simply report the facts without the obsessive need to add an exclusive detail that isn’t actually exclusive?
Journalism is not just about scoops; it is also about narrating events plainly, without embellishments or convenient storytelling. “An impersonal account or record of facts in chronological order, conceptually distinct from history as it lacks any interpretative criteria.” This is the definition of reporting, which many should revisit and, occasionally, apply. Some may argue, “Ours are analyses.” That’s fine, as long as they are supported by concrete elements, not mere feelings or meta-narratives meant solely to cater to an audience.
In short, Lewis Hamilton’s crash, which cost Charles Leclerc his afternoon testing session, has once again highlighted that those practicing journalism should learn not to stray from its most basic ethical principles. If the press is often accused of lacking professionalism today, it is precisely because of attitudes like this.
On the other hand, it’s understandable that some are fed up with those who write, “We have details, but we cannot publish them.” Yes, because in the recent circus, we’ve even seen this. A bit like that old cliché: “I’m leaving you because I love you too much.” Perhaps the only thing some truly love is the engagement that generates profit.
