The myth of objectivity in journalism
Commentary by DICK DORWORTH
Journalists are often denounced for
lacking "objectivity" in their work. Such accusations, in my opinion, are more
often than not without merit, even though they are true. As a journalism student
at the University of Nevada in the 1950s I don’t remember "objectivity" being
discussed specifically as a tool of the second oldest profession, though the
concept was understood to be a sacred tenet of the trade. How could one not be
objective about who, what, where, when, why and how? Objectivity was never
actually defined (how could it be?), but it seemed to encompass such concepts as
fairness, truth, balance, presenting all sides of an issue, checking facts with
a critical and skeptical mind and to never, ever accept without question and
independent research the ‘official’ (usually press release) version of anything
given out by the political, corporate, military, bureaucratic and even personal
front men we referred to as flacks but which now have other titles, both
pretentious and colloquial, including press secretary, public relations officer,
spokesman and spin doctor. In my opinion, it is on this latter point that
American journalists deserve bountiful criticism, not for lacking objectivity.
This was useful information, objectivity
as a reliable ideal, a goal. Fortunately, our journalism professors, A.L.
Higginbotham and Keiste Janulis, were men of the real world of gradation and
doubt and organic, unending questioning, not fundamentalists with obdurate
answers to limited questions, though "Higgie" could be evangelical when it came
to the importance and value of good journalism and a free press to a free
society. In every class (especially Janulis’), without making it an issue, it
was made clear that pure journalistic objectivity was as unreal as such
imaginative concepts as virgin birth, Santa Claus and the more recent phantasm
of compassionate conservatism. Journalism, like everything it reported, was not
black or white, good or evil, with us or against us, but, rather, an on going
dialogue, discovery and evolving perspective as reported by flesh and blood and
all too subjective human beings. Objectivity, it seemed, was all too subjective.
How could it not be? A hundred journalists will have a hundred different
definitions of objectivity. In recognition of this dilemma, the Society of
Professional Journalists dropped "objectivity" from its ethics code in 1996.
Janulis had worked as an AP reporter and
traveled the world and viewed the affairs and machinations of man with a bemused
skepticism befitting a professional journalist. He was Lithuanian, and had been
news editor of the Baltic Times in Estonia, covered World War II for the Chicago
Tribune, earned a master’s degree in journalism from Columbia University, and
had studied German and Russian propaganda at the University of Lithuania. He
knew that the world was filled with nuance and danger and that neither safety
nor truth could be found in absolutes. Janulis’ perspective appealed to me in
part because it was so human. That is, ethically he was a professional, not a
proselytizer. Journalism was a profession practiced by humans, and anyone who
expects objectivity from humans is being neither objective nor attentive.
I have always been thankful that Higgie
and Jan were my teachers in that formative time.
In one course our textbook was a well
known national weekly news magazine. We were primarily print media students and
we read the magazine cover to cover each week, examining every photo,
advertisement, story, review, editorial and letter to the editor. It was
considered the standard of good journalism at that time, but we learned that
pure objectivity about even who, what, where, when, why, and how was easier said
than done. We learned to look for what was left out of a story and we talked
about how the story could be written differently with the same set of facts. We
compared letters to the editor with the previous stories that inspired them, and
discussed letters we might write concerning the same stories. We looked for the
particular bias and perspective (the angle) that produced the story. Years later
a friend who wrote for this magazine told me about quitting after covering the
story of the sinking of the U.S. nuclear submarine Thresher in 1963. He
interviewed dozens of family members of the 129 men who died in the accident 200
miles off Cape Cod. Many of them reported that their dead loved ones had
anticipated such a failure on what was reputed to be the most advanced submarine
ever built and had complained their safety was compromised. The magazine refused
to include these pertinent remarks in the article because they reflected badly
on the U.S. military, not a popular perspective in those Cold War days. While
there may be some national security justifications for such editing, it is
neither complete nor objective (whatever that means) journalism, but it was an
insider’s illustration of the particular biases and perspectives we studied in
school.
And, of course, even then, in those days
of the decent if bland, squeaky clean Eisenhower and 99.9 percent pure Ivory
soap and calling for Philip Morris, we noted and looked for correlations between
advertising and the editorial and news content of a publication. Then, as now,
they were easy to find.
In addition to the purely human obstacles
to objectivity in journalism, there are economic ones. Journalism, too, is a
business. This is not to condone or excoriate the excesses and limitations of
journalism, but only to recognize them for what they are and what they are not.
The only objectivity is outside the
purview of journalism as we know it, that which includes everyone and
everything. Jim Harrison said it best: "… reality is an aggregate of the
perceptions of all creatures, not just ourselves."