In retrospect, all the news wasn't fit to print
-- but at least The New York Times admits that. In fact, though I'm not a big fan of the paper of record, I commend The New York Times for its forthrightness in the wake of revelations about unethical reporting by one of its reporters.
Last week, The New York Times devoted more than 7,000 words to exposing and apologizing for the misconduct of reporter Jayson Blair, a minor star in the newsroom before his resignation. Blair falsified sections of at least 36 articles, either through plagiarism or outright fabrication. Investigators are still digging through Blair's clips, searching for any more inaccuracies.
The New York Times' remorse (and even self-flagellation) is refreshing. Rather than making excuses or hiding behind press freedoms, the paper apologized for Blair's "fraud" -- the paper's own word -- and has tried to make a public accounting of all the misrepresentations that it printed. It is disturbing that Blair's sometimes obvious misdeeds (such as filing stories with far-flung datelines despite never having left New York) were able to sail under the radar for so long. At least the paper has been open and contrite.
Compared to another journo-gone-bad who resurfaced in recent weeks, the Times looks like a model of virtue. The other master of deceit once again making news is Stephen Glass, a former reporter for The New Republic who was sacked in 1998 after his editors discovered that he fabricated sections of 27 articles -- some of which were entirely invented. Glass too is publicizing his journalistic misdeeds, though in a much different way: he has written a memoir. A fictional memoir, of course.
Glass's book -- "The Fabulist" -- is a novel about a reporter who fakes his news stories. "While this novel was inspired by certain events in my life, it does not recount the actual events of my life. This book is a work of fiction, a fabrication, and this time, an admitted one," Glass writes in the author's note. Cute. Though one of Glass's former editors was less than amused: "The creep is doing it again," Leon Wieseltier, literary editor of The New Republic, told The New York Times. "Even when it comes to reckoning with his own sins, he is still incapable of nonfiction. The careerism of his repentance is repulsively consistent with the careerism of his crimes."
Glass's "repentance" is also in the author's note, where he states that he regrets his "misconduct" and "the pain it caused." Those who felt that pain and would like an apology from Glass may presumably fork over the cash to buy his book. Glass's contrition seems less genuine than his eagerness for royalties.
Contrition, it seems, has become a cottage industry in American media. Many quasi-celebrities have discovered this model for claiming or reclaiming their fame: do something wrong (preferably with sex or addiction involved), make a splash in the headlines, then apologize. Glass's Apology Tour 2003 kicked-off with a "60 Minutes" interview this past Sunday. The book tour can't be far behind. The voyeurism of this contrition circus is always disturbing, but the spectacle is almost unbearable when its beneficiary is a dishonest reporter who duped the very media that is now making him famous.
At least one good thing may come from these recent embarrassments, though. The Glass and Blair debacles should serve as a wake-up call to the national media. Reporting scandals are hardly a new phenomenon, but the recent media explosion may make them increasingly common. With more and more media outlets "flooding the zone" when major news breaks (to use The New York Times' parlance), competing for scoops and simply trying to fill the 24-hour news cycle, the pressure will increase for reporters to deliver stories and for editors to speed them through the works. Both influences open the door for shoddy reporting or outright falsification. The media's recent experience with both problems is a needed reminder that journalism's first duty is not to advocate or to sell, but to get the facts straight.
Reporting isn't a science, and reporters aren't infallible -- as recent events have proved. But that doesn't mean we must settle for mediocrity in the press. The New York Times has set an excellent example for dealing with those inaccuracies that will inevitably creep into print. Don't hide mistakes below the corrections header, don't bury wrongdoing in the back page -- be open, be honest and be apologetic. They're off to a good start.
