Today’s New York Times carries an op-ed by the US’ paper of record’s public editor, Arthur S. Brisbane—who, it should be noted, works outside of the Times’ editorial structure—asking if the paper’s journalists should call out lies when they’re encountered.
That the Times would even ask this question is, well, stunning. Like a two-by-four right between the eyes. I had to double-check that this wasn’t an Onion piece.
That Brisbane goes on to actually try to parse how journalists should report lies is doubly stunning. Apparently, pointed questions and calling out false or misleading statements (with a link to supporting evidence) is not even a consideration. Brisbane doesn’t actually write that he’s concerned about journalists’ judgement, but that’s clearly his worry as he writes that readers “worry less about reporters imposing their judgment on what is false and what is true.” And, if that’s the way the wind is blowing, Brisbane wonders how the Times could reveal the truth “in a way that is objective and fair.” Wringing his hands over the possibility of multiple truths, Brisbane asks, “Is it possible to be objective and fair when the reporter is choosing to correct one fact over another?”
Just think about that for a few minutes. Go ahead, ponder.
Look: Calling out lies, misdirections, and misrepresentations is not a question of objectivity and if one has to ask how to do it, it’s too late. You’ve become a stenographer, not a journalist. Revealing the truth has everything to do with fairness and context, but nothing to do with “balance” or “objectivity.” Nor does it have anything to do with vigilantism; contrary to the hed on Brisbane’s piece. It’s the cornerstone of journalism.
This is purely a consequence—unintended or not—of the rush to what Jay Rosen calls the view from nowhere. Still don’t get it? Read Rosen’s interview with himself about it.
Rosen has published his initial reaction to Brisbane’s piece and it’s blistering in its accuracy, summed up in his deck:
“Somewhere along the way, telling truth from falsehood was surpassed by other priorities to which the press felt a stronger duty. Arthur Brisbane, public editor of the New York Times, was unaware of this history when he asked users of the Times whether reporters should call out false statements.”
Rosen writes that the other priorities that have surpassed truth-telling in the last 40 years or so “include such things as ‘maintaining objectivity,’ ‘not imposing a judgment,’ ‘refusing to take sides,’ and sticking to what I have called the View from Nowhere.” I believe Rosen’s assessment to be absolutely accurate, but woefully incomplete. The missing bit from Rosen’s assessment is the insistence of corporate media to strive to maintain the status quo at all costs. That endeavor—maintaining the status quo—is the wellspring from which all else in corporate media—including Rosen’s laundry list—flows.
Matt Taibbi, writing about the inanity of the Iowa caucus, articulates this prime directive of status quo maintenance succinctly:
“... a long, rigidly-controlled, carefully choreographed process that is really designed to do two things: weed out dangerous minority opinions, and award power to the candidate who least offends the public while he goes about his primary job of energetically representing establishment interests.”
Times readers have apparently been fairly consistent in asking that fact-checking and calling out of lies take place in the body of the work—in context—not in a sidebar that will likely get lost in archives and updates. That the Times hasn’t responded quickly to this and realized that providing context is one of the biggest ways it provides value is an indication that something else might be going on. If the truth isn’t what’s of utmost importance to the Times, just what is?
Update: Thursday, 12 January 2012 9:39PM CST: Arthur Brisbane, lacking the integrity that I believed him to have, attempts to walk all of this back by telling Jim Romenesko that he was “... hoping for diverse and even nuanced responses to what I think is a difficult question” and that he was “... hoping to stimulate a discussion about the difficulty of selecting which ‘facts’ to rebut, facts being troublesome things that seem to shift depending on the beholder’s perspective.”
Wow. Just wow. First of all, the question isn’t difficult at all; journalists have an obligation to report the truth and to judge when a source or subject is dishonest, dissembling, or misleading. Period. Anything less is stenography. That’s why I’m optimistic about and find the media bug initiatives (it’s “report an error” at the bottom of each article here) so encouraging. We all make mistakes.
As Robert Niles, writing for the Online Journalism Review notes, “Our mission is to find the truth, report it and defend it. If we can’t pack heat, our weapons will be research, empiricism and logic instead. Don’t like the results? Challenge us with your own data. We’ll shoot it out and see who’s left standing.”
Secondly, facts aren’t troublesome; nor do they shift (at least not over the short term within the context of this issue). And journalists don’t get to pick which facts to rebut.
Again, it’s important to remember that Brisbane, as public editor (or, more commonly ombudsman), is not part of the Times editorial operations. Dan Gillmor offers up a re-envisioning of what a news organization’s ombudsman should do in the networked age.
Brisbane digs himself deeper when he accuses people of responding to a question he didn’t ask. Re-read his lede; here, I’ll do it for you: “I’m looking for reader input on whether and when New York Times news reporters should challenge ‘facts’ that are asserted by newsmakers they write about.” He just didn’t like the answer.
Brisbane then publishes a follow-up under the Times banner that dismisses his received answers as “more heat than light,” and tries to nuance his original question:
“My inquiry related to whether the Times, in the text of news columns, should more aggressively rebut ‘facts’ that are offered by newsmakers when those ‘facts’ are in question. I consider this a difficult question, not an obvious one.”
Please. Facts that are in question are, by definition, not facts at all; they’re assertions. What’s next? That nothing can ever be proven as a fact, only more evidence can be accumulated? I got over that argument some 40 years ago in undergraduate school, thanks very much.
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