NY Times Political Reporter Believes Telling Right From Wrong Is Beyond His Job Description; He's Wrong

from the the-view-from-absolutely-nowhere dept

For many years we've talked about the silly position that many journalism organizations take, in which their interpretation of being "objective" is to have what Professor Jay Rosen has called "the view from nowhere." I understand where this inclination comes from -- with the idea that if people think you're biased or one-sided that it taints the legitimacy or credibility of what you're reporting on. But in practice it often comes off as bland nothingness, and reporters willing to repeat any old nonsense that politicians and others put forth. Indeed, I'd argue that many people in the politics realm have learned to use this to their own advantage, and to say any old bullshit, knowing that the press will repeat it in a manner that only gives the original claim more validity and attention -- rather than calling it out as bullshit.

Similarly, such a bland "view from nowhere" creates a standard of "objective" reporting that is not there. Journalists always need to make choices -- choices about what to include and what not to include, who to quote and who not to quote. And, of course, journalists do have opinions and pretending otherwise is just silly. As such, we've long called out why this kind of view from nowhere is ridiculous, and journalism outlets that do silly things like ban reporters from stating opinions are not being "objective," they're denying reality.

The NY Times is running a new series on "Understanding the NY Times," which I think is actually a great idea by itself. A big part of the problem with the way people (don't) understand journalism today is that so much of how journalism works is set forth in an effective code of unwritten rules that many journalists learn as they get into the business, but which the public has no clue about. Non-journalists often impute a kind of motive to journalists that is laughable if you know actual journalists (or happen to be one). So, it's good (if unlikely to impact much) that the Times has chosen to do something to open up some of the details and explain things.

And yet... a recent piece in this series about how journalists "try to stay impartial" really seems to show just how silly this particular policy is. A bunch of people on Twitter commented, in particular, on a short comment provided by the NY Times' White House correspondent Peter Baker. In response to a discussion about whether or not reporters should even vote, he says the following:

As reporters, our job is to observe, not participate, and so to that end, I don’t belong to any political party, I don’t belong to any non-journalism organization, I don’t support any candidate, I don’t give money to interest groups and I don’t vote.

I try hard not to take strong positions on public issues even in private, much to the frustration of friends and family. For me, it’s easier to stay out of the fray if I never make up my mind, even in the privacy of the kitchen or the voting booth, that one candidate is better than another, that one side is right and the other wrong.

Many people are calling out the not voting part as ridiculous -- and I agree. I have no problem with people choosing not to vote, as I believe that's a personal decision that everyone should make for themselves, using whatever rationale they think appropriate, no matter how crazy. Yet, to think that this is somehow noble of a reporter or some sign of objectivity is just silly. It feels more like putting on a performance of objectivity.

But the much crazier part of this is not the lack of voting, but the final point he makes, that his job as a reporter is not to say "that one side is right and the other wrong." That's basically his only job as a reporter. As we've pointed out multiple times in the past, figuring out the truth is the key job of a journalist. And if you think that failing to say when someone is wrong makes you a better journalist, you're wrong (and I'm not afraid to say that).

Of course, there may be a larger point that Baker is getting at here, and he just failed to explain it well. So many political debates do get dragged down into questions of "right" or "wrong" on issues of opinion -- where "rightness" or "wrongness" is not something that can easily be assessed. The line between facts and opinions can get a bit fuzzy at times -- especially with policy issues. Will this particular policy accomplish what its backers claim? Well, who knows? We can look at past data or other evidence that suggests one outcome or the other, and that would be useful to report on. But every situation may be different, and different variables may be at play. So, calling certain claims right or wrong can be challenging in the best of times -- but simply swearing off saying if something is right or wrong seems to suggest not just a cop out from doing your job as a reporter, but also a fairly cynical take on what the role of a reporter actually should be.

Filed Under: bias, journalism, objectivity, peter baker, reporting, view from nowhere
Companies: ny times

Axios Ridiculously Calls For Newsrooms To Ban Journalists From Having Opinions Online

from the view-from-nowhere dept

For years we've talked about the journalistic perils of what journalism professor Jay Rosen calls the "view from nowhere," or the pretty common misconception that journalists should prioritize factual symmetry in news reporting, instead of actually trying to get to the truth. This usually results in "he said, she said" reporting where both sides are given equal weight (even if one side is clearly being intentionally misleading), with the idea that the reader can then ferret out the truth, while the journalist him or herself stands stoically protected from accusations of "bias" because they refused to take a real stand.

Rosen put it this way during an interview back in 2010:

"Frequently it places the journalist between polarized extremes, and calls that neither-nor position “impartial.” Second, it’s a means of defense against a style of criticism that is fully anticipated: charges of bias originating in partisan politics and the two-party system. Third: it’s an attempt to secure a kind of universal legitimacy that is implicitly denied to those who stake out positions or betray a point of view. American journalists have almost a lust for the View from Nowhere because they think it has more authority than any other possible stance."

The problem, as you'll often see in modern reporting, is this bid to embrace false equivalency often tends to ignore what's actually true. It's a major contributor to the partisan strife that's ripping the country apart, and it's frequently exploited by companies and politicians who use it to perpetuate outright falsehoods, since even the dumbest ideas must, under this model, be treated with perfect journalistic symmetry, in the process inadvertently advertising the false claims (especially if you choose your headlines poorly).

But a journalist's job isn't just to just report cold claims, it's to get to the truth -- often by adding necessary context, or, in some instances, by not running a story at all if the entire underlying premise is fluff and nonsense. Trump's manipulation of the press is the pinnacle of this dysfunction, with every false claim bouncing around an echo chamber of false objectivity and good intention.

One extension of the view from nowhere is the newsroom idea that journalists should be unfeeling automatons, hiding their true opinions (even if those opinions are fueled by years of experience on a subject) from readers, especially when engaging on social media. Case in point: late last week Axios co-founder and CEO Jim VandeHei penned this blog post in which he proclaimed to have devised a solution to the "fake news" problem that's currently plaguing the world. One of those solutions, according to VandeHei, was to urge newsrooms to ban reporters from having opinions online:

"News organizations should ban their reporters from doing anything on social media — especially Twitter — beyond sharing stories. Snark, jokes and blatant opinion are showing your hand, and it always seems to be the left one. This makes it impossible to win back the skeptics."

Yes, banning reporters from joking online will surely fix everything.

VandeHei's "solution" solves nothing, but does indicate he doesn't understand that in the modern media age, the sterile, false objectivity he supports directly contributes to the fake news he proclaims to have the cure for, and the "skeptics" he's trying to appease long ago stopped making claims of bias in good faith, since a key component of modern partisan tribalism involves wielding the word "bias" as a bludgeon against any discordant opinions. Meanwhile, why can't reporters make jokes if their reporting is driven by integrity? How exactly does a snarky comment on Twitter magically erode a career's worth of reporting?

Under this model of journalism, instead of debunking clearly false statements and giving them less (or no) weight when appropriate (say when Ajit Pai clearly spreads falsehoods about net neutrality for the eightieth time), these kinds of reporters tend to give those claims equal attention, assuming the reader can ferret out the truth.

That manifests itself constantly in issues like net neutrality, where false claims are often amplified in headlines and throughout a story, counterbalanced by the other take (usually partisan in nature) as if both sides are somehow correct and Ajit Pai hasn't been lying his ass off on this subject for the better part of two straight years. The only positive outcome of that falsely-symmetrical reporting is you've amplified what's often outright disinformation and given the reader no context to debunk it. More well-rounded reporting in the post-truth era absolutely must evolve, stop playing patty cake, and call a duck a duck when it's factually appropriate.

Donald Trump, Ajit Pai and their ilk thrive under this view from nowhere because it often assumes that to be fair, blatant lies are one valid half of a two-sided, always perfectly symmetrical story. Fortunately numerous folks were quick to ridicule VendeHei's take, including New York Times TV critic James Poniewozik, who quite correctly points out that you don't just magically "build trust" by banning your reporters from sharing years of informed opinion on social media:

Others, like reporter Karen Ho, were correct to point out that white, wealthy males are usually the ones who get to define what objectivity means in many major media newsrooms, something VandeHei doesn't seem all-too keyed in on:

Again, "he said she said" reporting has been absolutely fatal for America, and to suggest that banning your reporters from expressing their informed opinions (or god forbid being snarky about it on Facebook) doesn't even come close to understanding the problem, much less fixing it. And this is all before you even get to the oceans of disinformation (both foreign and domestic) that's been happily kicking the truth in the crotch in this country for the better part of a generation.

As we've noted previously, it's not "bias" if you're genuinely seeking the truth or pointing out obvious falsehoods, snark or not. It's "bias" if you refuse to call a patently false statement a false statement, or help give clearly inaccurate arguments weight they don't deserve. This belief that journalists should stand stoically silent in an illusory "middle," apply perfect dispassionate symmetry to all things, and then assume the reader can just mystically infer the truth from your sterile, often incomplete reporting--is one of the biggest reasons we're currently facing a disinformation apocalypse in the first place.

Filed Under: community, jay rosen, jim vandehei, journalism, opinion, trust, truth, view from nowhere
Companies: axios

Journalists Need A Point Of View If They Want To Stay Relevant

from the the-view-from-nowhere dept

This article is republished from The Conversation under its Creative Commons license. On a side note, apparently, The Conversation is now moving into the US after focusing on the UK and Australia in the past -- and that's pretty cool, because it's a great site.

If extreme polarization is now an enduring feature of American politics — not just a bug — how does that change the game for journalists? I have some ideas, but mainly I want to put that question on the table. “Conflict makes news,” it is often said. But when gridlock becomes the norm the conflicts are endless, infinite, predictable and just plain dull: in a way, the opposite of news. This dynamic has already ruined the Sunday talk shows. Who can stand that spectacle anymore?

A recent task force of American Political Science Association put it this way:

The United States used to be viewed as a land of broad consensus and pragmatic politics in which sharp ideological differences were largely absent; yet, today, politics is dominated by intense party polarization and limited agreement among representatives on policy problems and solutions.

In a fascinating paper on “philanthropy in a time of polarization,” three authors — Steven Teles, Heather Hurlburt and Mark Schmitt — take up the question. They point out that leaders in these grantmaking foundations operate from assumptions that extreme polarization can be overpowered by “strong ideas and persuasive research…[that] will motivate elected officials” to act. They believe in the message of bipartisanship and urge foundations to “stay above the political fray.”

The way Obama’s health care reform became law shredded that script. Elites in Washington believed that a compromise would emerge by “combining a broad goal favored by liberals with ideas traditionally supported by conservatives.” Nothing like that went down. One side passed the bill. The other demonized it and continues the fight to this day. Teles, Hurlburt and Schmitt write:

Foundations have traditionally seen themselves as part of civil society – as mediating institutions that form a bridge between dispassionate knowledge and political advocacy. Their resources, many in the sector have hoped, could fund objective, nonpartisan research that would take the edge off partisan conflicts and pave the way for broadly accepted social progress.

That view of American politics no longer makes sense. Nothing has taken the edge off partisan warfare, least of all “objective, nonpartisan research."

Is ‘objectivity’ in journalism dead ?

It’s tricky to compare foundation officers and journalists because officially the mainstream press has no theory of change, no policy agenda – indeed, no politics at all. Officially, journalists are merely out to get the story, tell the truth, inform us about what’s going on, and in special circumstances share their opinion.

But anyone who observes its work cannot help but notice that the Washington press corps shares a certain world view, analogous in many ways to the typical foundation officer’s. (Steve Coll moved easily from the Washington Post to the New America Foundation and on to the deanship of Columbia Journalism School. Walter Isaacson, editor of Time magazine, CEO of CNN, is now president of the Aspen Institute.)

Here are some of the components of this shared world view. Recognize them?

• “Successful candidates move to the middle…”
• Politicians who know how to get things done cut deals among insiders on both sides of the aisle. (Ronald Reagan working with Tip O’Neill is the usual reference point.)
• To “cede the ideological center” is the political mistake par excellence.

And as Thomas E. Mann and Norman J. Ornstein wrote in the Washington Post:

‘Both sides do it’ or ‘There is plenty of blame to go around’ are the traditional refuges for an American news media intent on proving its lack of bias.

What if the ideological center is effectively gone? What if striking deals with insiders from both parties no longer describes the way the world works? For as authors Teles, Hurlburt and Schmitt put it: “Pundits who say that ‘nothing can get done without bipartisan support’ no longer have the evidence on their side.”

What are the options?

Under these conditions, political journalists have a choice. They can try to muddle through with the framework they had before extreme polarization became too obvious to ignore. If they take this route, they will write well-informed articles about the trend. They will report the data about polarization without drawing any conclusions about their own practices. Or, they can recognize that they too have a world view, and that its assumptions have gone bust.

If they choose the latter, what then?

Instead of trying to stay in the middle between polarized extremes and avoid criticism, political journalists and their bosses could recognize that there is no escape from charges of bias because these charges are just a further aspect of polarization. If you’re going to be attacked anyway, might as well let it rip.

That’s what the Washington Post did when earlier this month it hired Chris Mooney to cover the environment in blog form. Mooney is the author of two books — The Republican War on Science and The Republican Brain (subtitle: The Science of Why They Deny Science – and Reality) — that leave no doubt about where he stands. In announcing his appointment, the Post described Mooney as a writer with a distinctive voice and a consistent argument: “that people’s preconceptions – political, religious, cultural – color the way they view science.”

Being transparent about point of view is the honest approach for reporters

Newsrooms are better off with reporters who know their beats, nail their arguments, make clear where they’re coming from and meet high standards of verification, always. Intellectual honesty is a more reliable basis for trust than a ritualized objectivity. A clear voice is more valuable than a nonpartisan veneer.

Calling out falsehoods that have gotten traction is another thing journalists can do once they realize that extreme polarization is a feature, not a bug. Ever since the fact-checking site, Politifact, won the Pulitzer Prize for “separating rhetoric from truth to enlighten voters,” fact checking has become routine in the coverage of politics. Now the press needs to take the next step: identify the worst offenders, deny them respectability and platform, raise the cost in reputation for relying on falsehoods: in a word, fight. “Detached from the partisan fray” won’t cut it.

The non-profit investigative newsroom, ProPublica.org, calls what it does “accountability journalism.” It is the only kind of journalism ProPublica is interested in doing. Here’s how they describe it:

Our work focuses exclusively on truly important stories, stories with ‘moral force.’ We do this by producing journalism that shines a light on exploitation of the weak by the strong and on the failures of those with power to vindicate the trust placed in them.

That is a view of the world as strong as polarization is deep. Political journalists need to adopt a similar view or they will slide into irrelevance. There is one other option: savvy analysts of the game. Winners and losers, who’s up, who’s down, strategy and tactics. That really isn’t journalism, though. It’s scorekeeping.

Jay Rosen is an adviser to The Conversation.

Filed Under: journalism, point of view, view from nowhere

Reuters Tries To Explain Away Its Refusal To Call Torture 'Torture'

from the the-view-from-nowhere dept

We recently pointed out that in a Reuters news report about the pending (and ultimately delayed) release of the declassified executive summary of the Senate Intelligence Committee's $40 million report on the CIA's torture program, Reuters reporter Patricia Zengerle refused to call the torture program "torture" instead describing it as "physically stressful interrogation techniques" within the following context:

Human rights activists and many politicians have labeled as "torture" some of the physically stressful interrogation techniques, such as water boarding - or simulated drowning - that were authorized under former President George W. Bush.

We then went on to point out how odd it is that Zengerle apparently can't come to call it torture herself, given that by pretty much every definition out there, including the Geneva Conventions and the UN Convention Against Torture (not to mention President Obama himself) have defined the practices as "torture."

Journalism professor Jay Rosen read the story and decided to ask Zengerle and Reuters about it. Rosen is the guy who has helped to highlight and call out this weak form of journalism known as "the view from nowhere" in which reporters refuse to actually say what something is, preferring to avoid any such claim. At best, such journalists feel the need to find someone to quote to call something what it is, rather than saying so themselves. Zengerle told Rosen he needed to talk to Reuters PR people, which was reasonably perplexing. Since when do journalists take their orders from PR?

Nonetheless, Rosen did exactly that. At first he was referred to Reuters' "Handbook of Journalism" which is the organization's style guide. Except, as Rosen noted, there doesn't appear to be anything in there concerning whether or not Reuters reporters can call torture "torture." In response, the PR person told him:

We have no formal policy regarding the designation of certain practices as torture. Our approach, in general, is to factually describe a technique -- such as waterboarding -- and attribute the characterization of it as torture to credible sources.

That is... an unsatisfactory answer to say the least. The idea, of course, (as one of our commenters on the story noted) is to "stay away from emotionally charged words." But that's not reporting. That's a cop out. Is torture an emotionally charged word? Possibly, but it's also accurate. It's not debatable. Under every definition of torture, practices like waterboarding fit. When reporters like Zengerle take the cheap way out, they actually make things even worse. Calling torture like waterboarding "physically stressful interrogation techniques," it may avoid the "emotionally charged" term of "torture," but it does a disservice to readers by underplay what is really happening when someone is waterboarded.

A reporter should be accurately reporting the facts. And that means when something is torture, they should call it torture.

When a Reuters PR person tries to brush this aside by arguing that Zengerle "factually described a technique," she's not telling the truth. Calling waterboarding and other CIA torture techniques as merely "physically stressful" is an outright misrepresentation of the fact that these techniques -- submitting someone to severe mental or physical pain for the purpose of obtaining information -- is the very definition of torture. Walking up a big hill may be "physically stressful." Waterboarding is not merely physically stressful. It's torture. Reuters does a disservice to truth in pretending otherwise.

Filed Under: jay rosen, journalism, patricia zengerle, style guide, torture, view from nowhere, waterboarding
Companies: reuters