ManuelBaechlin_TheNarwhal_0117_Morozuk

Meet Manuel Baechlin, The Narwhal’s video producer

We’ve long been told our award-winning visual journalism should include videos that make the conversation around climate change accessible to even more people. Meet the person who’ll do exactly that — and make some darn good videos

The first time Manuel Baechlin and I met over Zoom, he couldn’t stop talking about how much he loves Vox explainer videos — no, seriously, he talked about them a lot. I decided I’d interject and ask him why he loved Fox so much, and watched as the panic crept up on his face. Totally cruel, yes, yes, I know … but we spent the rest of the conversation talking about just how much we both appreciate a well-produced video that meets the moment. Now, I’m happy to say we’re colleagues: Manuel joins The Narwhal’s growing audience team as our first-ever video producer!

He’s a big coffee snob nerd drinker, and I lovingly chirp him every chance I get, given he’s replaced me as the youngest staff member. He joins our pod after producing some damn good journalism and other videos for CBS Mornings, Deloitte, United Way, Rowing Canada and more. How has he accomplished so much at such a young age? Well, he’s had his own production company since … high school. He’s keen on figuring out how to sustainably expand The Narwhal’s reach on our YouTube and TikTok channels, and meet new audiences where they’re at. What’s more? We’ve just published the first assignment Manuel worked on — the muddy history of the carbon tax and how it became so controversial across political stripes — today. Take a look below!

I chatted with him about his thoughts on video storytelling — and the film he finds “therapeutic in times of global turmoil.” Read on to get to know him, and if you have any thoughts on what kind of videos — explainers, news, nerdy-climate stuff — you’d want to see The Narwhal produce, drop him a note.

You’ve had a video production company since high school?! Tell me more about that.

I was very fortunate to attend a high school that offered special courses in video production, journalism and marketing alongside the typical Ontario provincial curriculum. Basically it meant I produced weekly mini films for the school and one episode per month for a local TV show. It was a lot, and yet I found myself intrigued by the stories I got to hear and the impact that sharing them had on the people around me. It seemed more exciting and tangible to me than, say, learning calculus. 

Sometime before graduation I was told about a film festival out in Vancouver, focused on climate change stories. I made a film with the stuff I had lying around, and happened to win. Perhaps that was the moment when I realized I could (maybe) do this thing. With the prize money, I bought my first computer and really started freelancing video and photo projects.

I started editing videos for YouTube, occasionally photographing events, and filming short documentary interviews. That quickly snowballed into more sustainable jobs with bigger clients.

How did that translate into your love for journalism?

Video stories can be excellent ways of bringing people together — but they can also be an excellent way of driving people apart … I lose sleep over how videos can be used to intentionally spread lies, disinformation and create chaos. I therefore felt it was very important to learn about the values (and shortcomings) of traditional journalism in order to respectfully, accurately and fairly do my work. Not to mention, videos are basically everywhere nowadays.

I discovered that darn good journalism is a great ingredient for making darn good videos and avoiding pitfalls. And I love making darn good videos. The two things go hand in hand. 

What’s a project you’ve worked on that you’re particularly proud of?

I spent most of my time last year growing my own company, Mabek Productions, which meant working with a number of different people who come from vastly different industries and have vastly different stories to share. 

Out of all of these projects, the one that comes to mind is a video edit I cut together for United Way East Ontario. It was about trauma and counseling. It was a privilege to get to hear the story, and be trusted with turning it into a video. 

What do you think good video journalism looks like? Who’s doing good work on that front in your opinion?

Good video journalism is not oversensationalized, it’s down to the point, it’s recognizing that not every story needs to be a video story, it’s filled with empathy, it uses animations to explain abstract things, it is transparent about facts and clearly identifies sources, and above all else it shows rather than tells (whenever possible). 

I’d be lying if I didn’t come clean about my love for Vox explainers. They were perhaps my single biggest source of inspiration for how to a) listen to an audience, b) structure narratives in video format, and c) animate stories beautifully.

There are dozens of amazing video journalists out there these days and I regularly find new things that pique my interest. I’m a big proponent of the idea that you can never learn it all — there are always new interpretations of how to use a specific video tool, how to structure a video story, how to navigate online interviews during a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic, etc. — and in my opinion it’s important to diversify and also keep an eye out for new trends. 

How do you want to bring that to The Narwhal?

At The Narwhal there are always important and interesting stories on the go, many of which are incredible opportunities for video. One of the big focuses for me will be ensuring that the stories we tell using video are consistent with the stories we tell in our amazing newsletter and on the website. One of the ideas I’m already thinking about is “how do we juice the orange” so to speak — how do we take something you all enjoyed reading, and dive deeper into areas that we might not have had an opportunity to unwrap yet. 

Think explainer videos, think key takeaway videos (where we might sit down with the reporter who did the research and ask some follow up questions), and think show-don’t-tell pieces like dynamically mapping a new pipeline project.

I’ve already begun working closely with our Creative Director, Shawn Parkinson, to brainstorm and animate key brand elements like our logo in videos. 

Manuel Baechlin laughs, wearing a Narwhal sweater and crossing his arms, with a greenhouse in the background.
“Good video journalism is not oversensationalized, it’s down to the point, it’s recognizing that not every story needs to be a video story, it’s filled with empathy.”

What was the last film you watched?

I (re)watched Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone the other day. I guess there’s something relaxing about childhood films that can be quite therapeutic in times of global turmoil.

What’s something about you that people would be surprised to learn?

I didn’t play traditional video games growing up, so I don’t know how to use video game controllers … I’ve tried to learn, but it seems totally hopeless. It’s a cool-not-so-cool fact that still surprises people on a daily basis. What does the X button do? O? That triangle thing? I seriously couldn’t tell you.

Another year of keeping a close watch
Here at The Narwhal, we don’t use profit, awards or pageviews to measure success. The thing that matters most is real-world impact — evidence that our reporting influenced citizens to hold power to account and pushed policymakers to do better.

And in 2024, our stories were raised in parliaments across the country and cited by citizens in their petitions and letters to politicians.

In Alberta, our reporting revealed Premier Danielle Smith made false statements about the controversial renewables pause. In Manitoba, we proved that officials failed to formally inspect a leaky pipeline for years. And our investigations on a leaked recording of TC Energy executives were called “the most important Canadian political story of the year.”

We’d like to thank you for paying attention. And if you’re able to donate anything at all to help us keep doing this work in 2025 — which will bring a whole lot we can’t predict — thank you so very much.

Will you help us hold the powerful accountable in the year to come by giving what you can today?
Another year of keeping a close watch
Here at The Narwhal, we don’t use profit, awards or pageviews to measure success. The thing that matters most is real-world impact — evidence that our reporting influenced citizens to hold power to account and pushed policymakers to do better.

And in 2024, our stories were raised in parliaments across the country and cited by citizens in their petitions and letters to politicians.

In Alberta, our reporting revealed Premier Danielle Smith made false statements about the controversial renewables pause. In Manitoba, we proved that officials failed to formally inspect a leaky pipeline for years. And our investigations on a leaked recording of TC Energy executives were called “the most important Canadian political story of the year.”

We’d like to thank you for paying attention. And if you’re able to donate anything at all to help us keep doing this work in 2025 — which will bring a whole lot we can’t predict — thank you so very much.

Will you help us hold the powerful accountable in the year to come by giving what you can today?

Karan Saxena is an immigrant settler living on xʷməθkʷəy̓əm, Skwxwú7mesh and səl̓ilwətaɁɬ territories. Karan is The Narwhal’s audience engagement edit...

See similar stories

0 Comments

Canada has another carbon tax. Poilievre wants to axe it, too

Get the inside scoop on The Narwhal’s environment and climate reporting by signing up for our free newsletter. On March 17, federal Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre...

Continue reading

Recent Posts

Our newsletter subscribers are the first to find out when we break a big story. Sign up for free →
An illustration, in yellow, of a computer, with an open envelope inside it with letter reading 'Breaking news.'
Your access to our journalism is free — always. Sign up for our weekly newsletter for investigative reporting on the natural world in Canada you won’t find anywhere else.
'This is not a paywall' text illustration, in the black-and-white style of an album warning label
Your access to our journalism is free — always. Sign up for our weekly newsletter for investigative reporting on the natural world in Canada you won’t find anywhere else.
'This is not a paywall' text illustration, in the black-and-white style of an album warning label