Living by the heart, not a code

In class this week I've been giving my students a crash course in journalism ethics. It's a crash course because it's an inexhaustible topic . . . one that continually challenges my journalistic ideals and keeps me wondering how such polar opposites can exist in journalism . . . the likes of Woodward and Bernstein, who never set out to become famous but became so through their dogged reporting on the Watergate scandal . . . and the likes of people like Jayson Blair, who fabricated and plagiarized story after story in the New York Times, leading to his own firing and the resignation of several editors there.

Today we examined the story of Stephen Glass, a reporter at The New Republic magazine who got caught fabricating 27 of the 41 stories he had written for the magazine over the course of a couple of years. (For more on how Glass got caught, go here.) We watched the 2003 movie about Glass, a made-for-Hollywood film that I'm sure takes some liberties to tell the story, but my, what a story it is. It all boils down to the fact that little by little, Glass inserted lies into his stories, to the point he fabricated entire articles, and didn't get caught for a while. A "60 Minutes" piece that you can also watch on the DVD of the film shows a now supposedly contrite Glass apologizing for his misdeeds. His regret seems insincere. You've got to wonder how a guy gets to the point of making stuff up, passing it off as nonfiction and then lying to his editors about making it up.

Unfortunately, this is the kind of journalism that makes news. Reporters who don't screw up don't become headlines. They just go about their work, all the while the vast majority of the public suspects that somewhere in the average journalist is a liar and a cheat like Stephen Glass.

For their writing assignment due this week, my students have to answer the question, "What makes the difference between an ethical journalist and an unethical one?" Many of them will give me answers like, "An ethical journalist follows the code of ethics of the Society of Professional Journalists, while unethical ones don't." (The SPJ is a trade association whose code of ethics includes seeking the truth and reporting it, minimizing harm to people involved in and affected by stories, acting independently of outside pressures and sources like advertisers and public relations people, and being accountable, i.e. admitting your mistakes when you make them.) That answer is a shallow one -- it doesn't really get to the heart of the issue.

I think what separates an ethical journalist from an unethical one is not a code. It's the heart. Stephen Glass admits that he lied and made up stories for his own glory. He wanted to be liked. He gleaned satisfaction and self-esteem from having the wittiest, most entertaining stories in his magazine. He wanted to be the center of attention. After Jayson Blair got caught making up stories in the New York Times, his editors thought back to some of the stories he covered and thought, "Gee, I wondered how he was able to get the interviews he did and get sources to open up like he did." Blair selfishly played with the newspaper's reputation because it felt good to be the one reporter who got what nobody else seemingly could. That should be a red flag to editors -- but, see, editors have their own vain ambitions as well. They want to be the editors behind the reporters getting the great stories.

On the flip side, we have the example of James Nachtwey, a war photographer featured in the documentary film War Photographer. For more information on him, go here. There's quite a bit of political commentary in the film I don't necessarily subscribe to. (Nachtwey sees himself as protesting war by covering war and hopes his images influence people to stop whatever brawl they're involved in.) But there are ethical lessons to be gleaned from how Nachtwey goes about his work. He's unassuming; he lets people tell their stories and visibly respects those in his photo-stories. He has basically given up any chance for a "regular person's" life to do what he does -- you can't exactly travel the globe covering its conflicts and keep a stable environment with a family at home. Not every journalist can do what Nachtwey does, nor is he the only example of a journalist who tries, at least, to approach his stories and the people in them with respect and dignity. His personality doesn't make him an ethical journalist, but the heart behind his work does.

I wrote in a previous blog that teaching journalism ethics is my least favorite part of teaching this class. It's actually my most favorite as well. The topic fascinates me and confounds me at the same time. It fascinates me because I've tried so hard in my career to treat people right and to cover stories with care. I hate to make mistakes in my work, and I think that reflects my heart to do the job well. Ethics confound me as well because there are examples like Glass and Blair. Their selfishness saddens me because they, not the plenty of ethical journalists out there, are often the face of journalism to the world. Journalists are not like doctors or lawyers. There's no examination to pass before you can call yourself a journalist. There's no license to practice journalism, which makes it vulnerable to be hijacked by impostors.

My students (like a lot of people, I might add) want hard and fast rules to follow. Give them the exact thing you want them to do, and they're happy. It's easy to look at something like the Society of Professional Journalists Code of Ethics and read it like a list of do's and don'ts. To me, though, it's about the heart. My husband and I talk often about people in our line of work who are motivated by selfish ambition. You can sniff these people out pretty easily because their stories are usually ultimately about them, not the people they're writing about, interviewing, etc. (You can see this on TV talk shows when the host has to pontificate about how much he or she knows about the topic, all the while never really asking the interviewee a question.)

Ego is a tricky thing. It plays such a huge role in journalism. Young journalists are taught to be competitive, hungry to get the hot story. They're told to become self-promoters eager to get the best opportunities. Some would argue that without this kind of attitude, journalists would lie down, let important stories go untold and let their competitors win the race to get the best news first. But this is also what leads to the Stephen Glasses of the world.

I think the James Nachtweys of the world are a dying breed. Yes, they've become well-known for their work, and they've done excellent work at that. But they've managed to do it without seeking the fame and without becoming totally cynical to the world around them. The difference is the heart.

Summer colds

What's the deal with getting a cold in the middle of summer?

I woke up Sunday morning, and my throat was dry and scratchy. I thought it was just a result of sleeping with the fan on for several days in a row. But the scratchiness didn't go away. In fact, it's turned into sniffling, sneezing and that out-of-breath feeling just walking around the house or exerting myself in any simple way-- all symptoms of a cold. I usually get colds in the fall or winter, but I've never had one in the middle of summer. It's 90 degrees outside, and I'm inside sneezing, sniffling and wanting to take a nap.

I saw a blurb on a medical site on the Internet that said summer colds are just a misnomer for hay fever, i.e. allergies. Nope, I don't think these symptoms are just allergies.

I think I may have picked it up from my students, several of whom are also muddling through summer colds. Oh, well. I do feel a little better today, well enough to exercise this morning. I think I may head out into the sunshine this afternoon.

I guess there's a bright side to having a cold in the summertime: At least there's warmth, sunshine and all those fun summer things to do waiting for you outside once you feel better.

New recruits

On Monday I started teaching a five-week version of Introduction to Journalism and Mass Media at Metro State College of Denver. It was a weird week to start teaching a summer class with the Fourth of July falling in the middle of it, but it was good to be back in the classroom again.

I have 15 students -- some of them wanting to go into journalism, others just taking the class as an elective. The five-week summer version of the course is my favorite to teach. The class moves quickly, which keeps both me and the students more interested in the material. (By week 9 or 10 of a regular semester class, it's tempting to just check out and wish the end of the semester would come quickly.) I feel like I get to know the students better as well, since I see them four days a week for two hours a day. Summer students tend to be a bit more motivated as well. I figure if you're going to school over the summer, you either have to or you want to.

I've taught this class so many times, it's hard sometimes for me to see it from a fresh perspective. Those new eyes always seem to come with what we did in class today. I always show the movie "All the President's Men," the story of how two Washington Post reporters broke the Watergate story in 1972, at this point in the course. It serves as a good introduction to the topic of newspapers and their role in American society. The movie, based on the nonfiction book by the same name, also never fails to put a little inspiration back into my journalistic heart as well. The film (made in 1976) stars two very young but now famous actors, Robert Redford as Bob Woodward and Dustin Hoffman as Carl Bernstein. I always manage to get something out of watching these two portray Woodward and Bernstein, America's first real celebrity journalists (although they didn't set out to become celebrities). I've seen the film probably 10 times, but I never get tired of it.

What struck me today was watching Woodward (Redford) insist on having real, definitive facts before he ran with a story, while Bernstein (Hoffman) was more comfortable inferring things, assuming things, filling in the blanks. I tend to be more like Woodward. In my career I've lived through the consequences of making assumptions, even in small things that don't really seem to matter. As a journalist you can't even assume you know how to spell someone's name, no matter how simple it is, like Joe Smith or Jane Johnson. You have to ask questions -- and keep asking them -- even if you think you understand something. I've gotten over the fear of sounding stupid by asking "dumb" questions. I'd rather sound stupid in an interview than look stupid when a story is published and is wrong.

These are the little nuances of being in journalism that are fun to see with new eyes and try to pass on to the "new recruits" in my classes. It's even more fun in the other class I teach, Beginning Reporting (which I won't teach until the fall), where students learn the basics of writing news stories. I know I drive my students crazy, nitpicking on "minor" things like spelling people's names correctly. They get zeros on their assignments for spelling names wrong -- even getting one little letter in a person's name wrong. I tell them that learning to pay attention to details begins now in the classroom, not when they get their first job. They balk when they get their first zero -- and most of my students get at least one zero through the course of a semester -- but they learn quickly to double check and triple check what they're doing. And when the occasional student begs me to give them a break -- after all, they thought they double-checked everything -- I remind them that I'm training them for the real world, where not only editors/producers, but readers/viewers/listeners expect journalists to be professionals. It's serious business, and now is the time to take it seriously.

I also tell them that in a bigger sense, integrity begins with the little things. And how you handle the little things reflects how you'll handle the big things. Some people don't grasp that Woodward and Bernstein didn't have the story of their careers handed to them. Their editor never called them into his office and said, "Hey, guys, write this huge investigative piece on Watergate, will you? We've figured out all the details; we just need some hotshot writers like you to write it for us."

No, they pieced it together little by little, one development at a time. Those developments were uncovered for two years before President Richard Nixon resigned in 1974. And Woodward was there, insisting that the stories be based on facts, not assumptions. Call me an idealist, but that's the kind of journalist I want these "new recruits" to be.