Skip to main contentWe hate Jayson Blair. Despise him!
That lying, coke-hoovering little whelp! How dare he drag our Noble Profession into disrepute?
Thanks to the 27-year-old reporter's fiction, plagiarism and other deadly sins in The New York Times, American journalism is having a nervous breakdown. Some days, it's like we're Woody Allen. Other days, we're a mob of Transylvanian peasants with a fresh shipment of pitchforks.
It's been a rough spring for the Fourth Estate. Even as l'affaire Blair unfolded, the media fell under the microscope for other reasons. The view wasn't pretty.
The FCC, defying public outcry, voted in favor of media consolidation. The media, it seems, helped the Pentagon turn the rescue of Pvt. Jessica Lynch into the feel-good production number of the Iraq war. Another Times reporter--a Pulitzer winner, not a rookie--quit after it emerged a freelancer did the grunt work for a story under his byline.
No wonder, then, that a recent USA Today/ CNN/Gallup poll found only 36 percent of Americans believe the media get their facts straight.
The trouble is that Jayson Blair is an easy case, a handy whipping boy for an industry that has squandered public trust. Some waster fabricates quotes? Fire him, beat yourself up, and 10 years later the guy is lucky to rate a Trivial Pursuit question.
The FCC? Even that could be fixed, should Congress ever get its spine back from the cleaners.
The real problem isn't isolated rule-breakers like Blair or corrupt rule-makers like the FCC. The real problem is, in journalism, there are very few rules. Those that exist are obeyed, bent or mutilated under deadline and money pressure. Journalism isn't medicine or law--there are no centralized authorities, no single code of conduct everyone's supposed to follow.
Perhaps more than anyone realizes, we're making it up as we go.
You're not supposed to lie. Simple. But how must a newspaper correct mistakes? How should you cover colleagues'--or owners'--extracurricular interests? Just how close can you come to the supposedly sacred line between advertising and editorial?
What follows is a look at a few situations from Portland's newspaper world, in which these and other dilemmas are at play. We decided to focus on newspapers because it's what we know best, and because print totes a heavier good-conduct burden than rating-enslaved electronic media.
Some of these scenarios are substantial, others frankly trivial. All they really share is that they show things aren't always black-and-white in the ink trade.
In a few cases, we consulted professional ethicists for their take. In every case, we provide handy-dandy icons to make thinking that much easier.
After all, we're here to serve you.
ADVERTORIALITIS
The Issue: Do stories produced by ad departments confuse readers?
Advertorial: features that look like "real" articles, but in fact are glorified ads. Almost every publication does them in one form or another, usually with discreet disclaimers intended to separate them from noncommercial content.
Do readers know the difference? That's up to everyone's individual media savvy. See, we trust you.
Advertorial comes in different shapes. There are ad supplements, mini-publications with stories plumping for sponsors. Inserts in the Portland Tribune promoting downtown business and Pioneer Place are examples of this type.
Then there are sections produced by publications' ad departments that may contain articles--written by sales staff or advertorial specialists--about advertisers. Just about every magazine on the rack does these. Locally, the Tribune's weekly auto section XLR8 is a good example.
"They were constantly coming in trying to sell us ads, and we said to them, sort of half-joking, 'Well, if you write a story about us, we'll buy an ad,'" says John Bullion, who owns the downtown car-accessories shop Rack Attack, of the Tribune's ad reps. "And they came back to us and said, 'We'll write about you in XLR8, but you have to buy X number of ads.'"
Finally, there's the "supportive environment" theory. The Oregonian's advertising department publishes weekly sections on cars and real estate in which writing is tailored to be "supportive" of advertisers' needs. Willamette Week's column Behind the Wheel, written by automotive marketing director Dennis Pittsenbarger, serves more or less the same function.
Again, out-and-out advertorial almost always comes labeled as such. But then there are slippier creatures.
Take special sections, which package writing and ads on a particular subject. WW, like most newsweeklies, does a lot of these--our annual restaurant guides, our bar-and-drinking guide, et al.--and for the most part, we avoid kowtowing to advertisers. That means the restaurant guide's list of Portland's 100 best restaurants isn't influenced by which establishments buy ads.
Every Christmas season, though, WW publishes a series of gift guides. In the past, editors have directed writers to visit some WW advertisers and check out their wares. Writers have never been required to write about advertisers' products, just look 'em over.
Sinful?
"I think that is pretty close to being inappropriate," says WW editor Mark Zusman. "Our argument is that our advertisers have good stuff, and we want to make sure writers are out there checking it out.
"If that sounds like a rationalization, maybe it is."
What the Experts say: To get an outside perspective, I consulted Tom Bivins, who teaches journalism ethics at the University of Oregon, and Aly Colon, an ethicist at the Poynter Institute, a national journalism training center.
"Whenever you make any extra effort to work with an advertiser on editorial content, you're in danger of crossing the line," says Bivins. "I would wonder how valid the guide is, and the reviews of products, if I knew that the writers are told specifically to visit advertisers."
KONFLICTED KHRONICLERS?
The Issue: How far must newspapers go to reveal outside interests and connections of employees...or owners?
Given Portland's patented 1.7 degrees of separation, people are bound to know people. People date people, and some of those people marry off. Business and personal interests overlap, intersect or just rub together.
So when, and how, should media outlets or professionals disclose connections?
Should O columnist Steve Duin, who often writes about school funding, disclose that his wife works for Lake Oswego's public schools?
Do you, Dear Readers of "Secrets of the Local Media!!," need to know that my girlfriend (hi, honey!) has written extensively for the Portland Tribune?
In May, The Oregonian reported that the former financial manager of the domestic-abuse shelter Raphael House was under investigation for theft. Should the paper have mentioned that conservative opinion columnist David Reinhard serves on Raphael House's board? After all, the O frequently covers the Citizens Crime Commission of Portland and always mentions publisher Fred Stickel's role in founding the law-and-order group.
WW publisher Richard Meeker is married to Multnomah County judge Ellen Rosenblum. Do we have to say so every time we mention her?
Does WW restaurant reviewer Jim Dixon's small olive-oil importing business, which provides sweet stuff to many Portland restaurants, pose a problem, even if he doesn't review establishments he does business with?
Of all the potential conflicts faced by local papers, the Tribune may be up against the stickiest. The Trib is owned by Robert Pamplin, the millionaire textiles heir whose fingers turn up in many Portland pies.
Lora Cuykendall, the Trib's executive editor, says the paper fills in the blanks on Pamplin when he's relevant. "We disclose his relationship to us when it's germane to the story we're doing," she says. "When we write about Ross Island Sand and Gravel [Pamplin's excavation company], we mention it. We did a story on major political contributors, and he was in that."
Yet when the Tribune ran its first story on the downfall of Lewis & Clark College President Michael Mooney, the June 10 front-pager made no mention of Pamplin's deep involvement with the school. Pamplin has donated millions of dollars to the private liberal-arts college. He sits on the college's board; WW reported that Pamplin's support helped Mooney hold on briefly after a ruined $10.5 million investment made on the prez's authority came to light.
So donde está Bob?
"We decided that what we wanted to focus on was the structure of the loan," Cuykendall says. "That's a story about Mooney and the active members of the board." (Pamplin's seat on the L&C board is an emeritus position; he no longer votes on board issues.)
"He's certainly been significant to the college," Cuykendall says. "At the same time, we don't want to become a publicity machine for Robert Pamplin."
What the Experts say: "Disclosure, disclosure, disclosure," says Bivins. "It should be made clear he is a member of the board. Readers can judge for themselves whether they think his paper is reporting the situation fairly. "
"That needs to be disclosed," says Colon. "A lot of times it's a judgment call--you have a story in which the person may not be involved or really relevant. But I'd say you're better off if you err on the side of caution."
THE CASE OF THE UNCRITICAL CRITICS
The Issue: Does a newspaper compromise itself by promoting an event it organizes?
Ah, disclosure.
Willamette Week sponsors, organizes, subsidizes and promotes Musicfest Northwest, an annual music festival in Portland nightclubs. Festival proceeds go to music programs in Portland's public schools. The paper sells ads for a festival guide it publishes, and it uses Musicfest to further its, whaddya-call-it, "branding."
As WW's music editor, I'm intimately (wipe that look off your face) involved in the festival's organization. I also lavish coverage on the festival, both before and after the event (which, by the way, is Sept. 4-6 this year...tickets on sale soon!).
It's hardly unheard-of for a paper to cover events it's involved with. Oregonian columnist Jonathan Nicholas devotes many inches each year to Cycle Oregon, the charity bike tour of which he's the unpaid president. The Portland Mercury, that lovable Seattle/Chicago-owned weekly, makes sure its many self-promotional events get ink. Recently, WW made its first-ever bike scavenger hunt one of its arts and entertainment "picks of the week."
But where is the line between promoting Musicfest and sacrificing my credibility?
When I write about Musicfest, I try to make WW's stake in the operation crystal-clear. But it seems a precarious balance--the rest of the time, I'm supposed to be a critic, writing and editing independent assessments of Portland bands.
What the Experts say: My two ethicists split on Musicfest.
"The coverage is appropriate, as the money goes to charity," says U of O's Bivins. "The worst anyone could say is that you're grabbing some good PR for the paper and taking credit for it. No harm there."
Colon was not so forgiving. "How does this affect your independence?" the Poynter ethicist asks. "Anyone with an attention span longer than the ADD most people have will remember, hey--six months ago you picked this band for your music festival and told us all how great they were. Now you tell us you're going to be an independent critic, evaluating their work?
"There are going to be repercussions no matter what you do."
INSIDER IN OUTSIDE
The Issue: Should a publication tell readers if a story is similar to a story that's already appeared elsewhere?
On Sunday, June 15, The Oregonian ran a feature on John Gill, a onetime competitive runner and prison inmate who's training for an Olympic bid.
Should the O have given a nod to a feature on Gill in the June issue of Outside Magazine, which hit newsstands weeks before the O published its account? The stories contain many similar anecdotes and details. Both recount Gill's moment of clarity in an isolation cell. Both detail his intense training and his relationship with a legendary Eugene track coach.
Dan Hortsch, who wrapped up a three-year tenure as the O's ombudsman last month, says in his view, the paper had no obligation to credit others in this case.
"When another news organization breaks a large story that we would not be onto or aware of otherwise, it makes sense to credit that organization initially," Hortsch writes via email. "I am not sure that we or anyone else expect to be credited when the story is a feature and we or others pursue it and do our own story."
Just about every working writer has snatched a story idea from a colleague's work, and there's no indication the O lifted anything directly from Outside.
But should they acknowledge someone else got there first?
What the Experts say: Both Colon and Bivins stressed that there's no moral obligation to credit another publication in this kind of scenario. But both said it's a good idea to do so. "If they did, these questions would never even come up," Colon says. "It would help The Oregonian, ultimately, to do that."
LOOK OUT! ANGRY MUSLIMS!
The Issue: How should a paper cover itself?
On June 19, about 100 protesters gathered in front of The Oregonian's pinkish Southwest Broadway HQ. Many wore Islamic skullcaps or traditional gowns. Picketers carried signs comparing O reporter Les Zaitz to Jayson Blair and, copping Fox News' slogan, demanding "fair and balanced" coverage of Portland's Muslim communities.
At issue: Zaitz's coverage of Sheik Mohamed Abdirahman Kariye, a figure in Portland's most conservative mosque who was arrested at Portland International Airport just after Sept. 11, 2001. Protesters complained that, even after prosecution of Kariye ended with a pair of minor convictions, The Oregonian described his situation as a "terrorism case"--even though he'd never been charged with a terror-related crime, much less convicted.
The protest didn't make much of a splash. KGW, alone among local TV stations, ran a short clip from the gathering. Willamette Week covered the story last week. And The Oregonian barely covered it at all. An un-bylined three-paragraph story deep inside the next day's Metro section gave the barest essentials, naming the stories at issue but not detailing demonstrators' grievances against the paper.
Did they do the story justice? Hortsch says that he has no specific knowledge about decision-making in this case, but that protests don't automatically warrant coverage. "I would not consider a protest against WW or any of the television stations' news departments a likely topic for coverage, barring something unusual," he writes.
Survey sez! The Poynter Institute's Colon says the only way to evaluate the O's coverage (or lack thereof) of the protest is to set the situation in context. How has the paper covered similar protests in the past? How well did the protest crowd reflect Portland's Muslim community, in numbers and in sentiment? What other stories made the news that day?
Bivins says that, no matter what else is on the day's agenda, the paper would have done better to explore issues raised by the protest. "Seems to me that the paper should at least publicly recognize the demonstration's purpose was to correct or complain about a misperception," says Bivins. "Covering the stated reasons for the demonstration would have helped."
THE CASE OF THE ANGRY SERGEANT
The Issue: How prominently should a paper correct its mistakes?
On May 9, The Oregonian published one of many stories to come out of the May 5 death of Kendra James, a 21-year-old African American shot by Portland cop Scott McCollister during a late-night traffic stop. This story, which appeared inside the paper's Metro section, bore the headline "WOMAN SHOT BY POLICE WAS PREGNANT." It cited a "family spokesman" who said James, already a mother of two, was deep in her second trimester when she died.
With tensions between black Portland and the city's police already running high, the story seemed like more fuel for the bonfire of criticism faced by cops. Trouble is, it wasn't true.
The next day, in the 26th paragraph of a front-page story on the shooting, The Oregonian reported that an autopsy showed no evidence James was pregnant.
That mention, and particularly its placement, didn't satisfy many, including Portland Police Bureau spokesman Sgt. Brian Schmautz.
"I didn't think they did an adequate job of correcting the damage," Schmautz says. "There are still many people who believe, to this day, that she was pregnant."
The pregnancy-that-wasn't became part of a broader dispute between Portland police and the daily newspaper. Cops felt The Oregonian was running misleading stories about James' death. Reporters felt the police weren't providing them with information they needed and, under public-records law, deserved.
The spat came to a head in mid-May, when Schmautz fired off an opinion piece aimed at the paper's editorial page, blasting the O's coverage. Instead of printing the piece, the paper's editors assigned Hortsch to investigate cops' complaints. Hortsch responded on June 1 with a lengthy piece that mentioned the incorrect report but didn't deal with the correction's placement.
What the Experts say: "It seems as though the paper could have been more aggressive in its retraction," says Bivins. "Especially given the nature of the original headline and the subsequent placement of the correction."
"I'm disappointed that they would run that headline without more confirmation than what they had," says Colon.
THE FREE-STUFF FACTOR
Should journalists accept freebies? And what should they do with them?
Of course, not every dilemma is all that meaty. Take free stuff. We get lots of it (see sidebar, below). Where's the line between what we need to do our jobs (e.g., free CDs--papers are too cheap to buy review copies, and music writers often write reviews before albums hit the market) and gratis gear that could turn us into freebie whores?
The straight answer is: It depends.
"The various rules are different for different fields, and that creates confusion," says WW's arts and culture editor, Caryn Brooks. "I think mistakes are made when there's confusion."
For instance: Music writers often get free concert tickets, but newspapers, including WW, shell out for restaurant reviewers' dining, reimbursing writers in an effort to preserve critics' anonymity and independence. The theory is that restaurants are in a better position to dole out special treatment if they get wise to writers.
In other cases, papers reach different conclusions about what's ethical. The local restaurant industry throws many promotional events that aren't open to the public, which can be prime territory for gathering food-scene news and gossip. The Oregonian pays for food writers to attend these shindigs when necessary, but WW lets writers accept freebie admissions.
Even in the case of music writing, where the free-stuff factor is off the charts, you could argue prevailing practices warp reviewers' perspectives. Doesn't a press pass to, say, Springsteen, worth $100 or more on the open market, qualify as special treatment? Doesn't receiving dozens of free CDs (or books, or movie screenings) give writers an entirely different frame of reference than consumers?
When the Blazers serve free grub to sportswriters before, during and after games, is it wrong for reporters to strap on the feedbag?
And when free stuff arrives by the bushel, then what do you do with it?
The Oregonian sells books and CDs at occasional staff rummage sales, giving the proceeds to charity. We lug (OK, the interns lug) CDs to Everyday Music and books down to Powell's; sometimes we donate the proceeds to charity, but often we use it to buy other books and CDs our reviewers need.
We haven't figured out what to do with the Dumb and Dumberer promotional "hair cut kit." But then, that's why we get paid the big bucks--to make these tough decisions.
Just another day at the front lines of the First Amendment.
LAND OF PLENTY
Want free stuff? We have a job for you.
In any plain old week, WW's music writers might receive as many as 100 or so free CDs. The books editor might get 40 free tomes. Film critics see anywhere from four to 15 movies. Restaurant reviewers might blow a few hundred bucks at some new trattoria. And that's all pretty cool (hell, it beats "real work"), but that's not when this free-stuff racket gets interesting. Check out this haul--we got it all for free! FREE!
Item: The Dumb and Dumberer Hair Cut Kit. The long-awaited (well, by someone...maybe) sequel to Dumb and Dumber offers one (1) white plastic bowl and one (1) pair of scissors.
Item: Joe Brown's Hand-Made Carmel Corn. Made one batch at a time. Consumed in 10 minutes or less per bag.
Item: The Swimming Pool Goggles. Plastic swim goggles, check. Picture of hot chick in bikini, check.
Item: Del Taco Gimme Kit. Bringing "Fresh Mexican Taste, Value, and Yes, Fries, to Albany." Includes two empty Del Taco soda cups, one Del Taco T-shirt (XL), one packet of Del Scorcho sauce.
Item: Trojan Twisted Pleasure® Condoms. "Trojan is twisting things up this summer with a new condom that will reshape the way people feel about sex with a condom, once and for all!" Featuring the patented bulbous twisted design. A pack of 12.
Item: The Blue Balls jelly beans. Local band wants attention. Local band delivers jelly beans attached to suggestively paired blue helium balloons.
Item: Gay Resort Murder Shock. OK, just a book. But we like the title.
Item: XXX: The Power of Sex in Popular Culture. An anthology/analysis of sexy ad images from Portland's Plazm Media. Printed on vinyl, it may be the most foul-smelling book in all Creation. We keep it in a plastic bag.
Item: Portland Farmers Market Goodie Basket. We ate it. Look for the cover story on PFM soon.
Item: Voodoo Donuts Sampler. One dozen. Look for the cover story on Voodoo Donuts soon.
Item: Air Bud Spikes Back DVD. How sweet is this? Look for the Air Bud cover story coon.
Item: From Justin to Kelly CD-ROM digital press kit. American Idol winners, together. Hands off this one.
Item: William Eggleston's Los Alamos. A massive book-length photo essay on Los Alamos, N.M. Considered groundbreaking by critics. List price: $65. See you in the Orange Room at Powell's.
While there's no one rulebook for journos, the Committee of Concerned Journalists has assembled the following general principles:
--Journalism's first obligation is to the truth.
--Its first loyalty is to citizens.
--Its essence is a discipline of verification.
--Its practitioners must maintain an independence from those they cover.
--It must serve as an independent monitor of power.
--It must provide a forum for public criticism and compromise.
--It must strive to make the significant interesting and relevant.
--It must keep the news comprehensive and proportional.
--Its practitioners must be allowed to exercise their personal conscience.
For more from the Committee of Concerned Journalists, see www.journalism.org .
The Poynter Institute's website includes an influential digest of media news and criticism: www.poynter.org .
WW obtained Sgt. Brian Schmautz's unpublished op-ed piece through a public- records request.
In addition to the pregnancy report, Schmautz's op-ed submission took issue with an Oregonian story comparing Portland police policy on the use of deadly force on moving vehicles with that of other police departments.
WWeek 2015