Can books fill the
news media’s gaps? 10/1/2007
The
senseless practice of media mobbing - 9/17/2007
Casualties of the Larry
Craig affair - 9/3/2007
My beef with
the media - 8/20/2007
Curbing
Murdoch - 8/6/2007
A little
story, easily overlooked - 7/23/2007
Can trickery
by reporters be right? - 7/9/2007
Journalism’s
coming war on privacy - 6/25/2007
All the news
that fits the plan - 6/11/2007
The new
world order comes to news - 5/28/2007
An ironic
curtain-raiser as Murdoch goes for the gold - 5/14/2007
On holding
back ugly realities - 4/30/2007
Why the
silence from our northern neighbor matters - 4/16/2007
The murky
world of conflicts of interest - 4/2/2007
‘If it’s OK
with you, I’m going to spoil your day…’ - 3/19/2007
When good
stories come from bad sources - 3/5/2007
The
vanishing art of standing firm - 2/19/2007
Flying high
with the Money Honey - 2/5/2007
Taking out
Saddam - 1/22/2007
The
insidious corruption of beats - 1/8/2007
2006
Columns
2005 Columns
2004 Columns
2003 Columns
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Principles
matter, even if they aren’t practiced
By Edward Wasserman
Week of
December 10, 2007
I’ve just come back from Buenos Aires, where I gave a talk on threats to
ethical journalism to a conference of Argentine journalists and
students. It was pretty absurd. Not because the topic isn’t worthwhile,
or because the audience wasn’t impeccably qualified and passionately
committed.
But because I had the audacity to lecture the heirs to a journalistic
tradition hardened by an oppression I could barely imagine. Thirty years
ago, Argentine reporters were routinely harassed, jailed, driven into
exile; some disappeared, murdered. At a conference in Miami last year
one recalled coming to work one morning and noticing an empty desk.
Nobody explained what happened to his colleague; no explanation was
necessary.
So there I was at a conference whose participants included a Chilean
journalist who had been tortured after exposing key figures in the
Pinochet dictatorship for looting the public till. The worst I had ever
suffered in three decades in newsrooms had been harsh language, a hit to
advertising revenue, high turnover among supposed friends. Yet I was an
expert on contemporary dangers to honest, aggressive, fearless
journalism.
It was ridiculous. But it wasn’t unusual. We Americans spend a lot of
time preaching to the rest of the world, and in that regard U.S.
journalists are good Americans.
Some weeks before, I attended an awards banquet in Washington sponsored
by the International Center for Journalism. It’s a terrific outfit,
which raises money here and spends it fostering free speech and
principled journalism abroad.
There we were on an autumn evening, in a spacious atrium on Pennsylvania
Avenue within spitting distance of the White House. We were honoring a
blogger from Cairo who’s in danger for blowing the whistle on torture by
an Egyptian government that is one of this country’s stalwart pals, a
reporter from Burma who lost her job for rattling the thugs who run that
country, a Russian financial editorial whose staff investigates fat-cat
oligarchs and who attends not just news meetings but the funerals of
slain friends.
They are young and brave. From our side, leading the tributes was emcee
George Stephanopolous, the former Bill Clinton cupbearer who fell out
with our ruling junta and was packed off to hard labor as a top-dollar
newscaster with ABC. The keynoter was longtime NBC anchor Tom Brokaw,
who after a career as an eight-figure TV news reader is making another
bundle writing history lite. Brokaw was introduced with good-natured
jibes by CBS rival Bob Schieffer both of them decent and amiable stars
of the small screen whose glittering careers in news kept well away from
any vengeful oligarchs.
And what, exactly, entitled them to praise these foreigners, who
literally risk imprisonment or death?
The irony was that these eminences of our media establishment were
gathered to honor journalists who routinely defy their own media
establishments. After all, each of those countries has many other
journalists, the ones who cover the press conferences, rewrite the
official lines, anchor the newscasts, keep the questions respectful –
but they’re ones we would never think to honor.
Does this country have journalists who are the U.S. equivalents of the
foreigners we were toasting? Sure, but they’re too extreme, too shrill,
too disrespectful and too against-the-grain to ever be feted by the
worthies gathered in that vast room. In this country, independent voices
aren’t silenced; they’re ignored.
So as in other realms, the example others associate with us far exceeds
the reality. The honorees that night in Washington -- with former
Washington Post chief Ben Bradlee on hand -- paid homage to Watergate,
the mythic moment when truth toppled power. Watergate was why the
Russian got into journalism, why the Burmese woman got into journalism.
(Hell, it’s why I got into journalism.)
Foreign journalists take inspiration from values that we preach, even
when we don’t practice them all that often. The idea of independent
truth-seeking in the public interest – the ethical core of contemporary
journalism -- is a breathtaking concept in places were the press is
under unrelenting assault.
But we too stand on the shoulders of that tradition of adversarialism
and defiance, one we so rarely emulate. Those who listen to our
preachings forgive us our failure to keep the promise that inspires
them.
They listen to us out of honor for the promise, not because they’re
foolish enough to believe we fulfill it.
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