Russell: Journalistic objectivism: walking the line between ignorance and understanding

Humility is every writer’s antagonist. It’s an enemy that hardly lets you finish a sentence without reminding you of unaddressed complexities and your complete lack of authority on the subject. A few weeks ago, I wrote a column on the conflict in Syria, forcing me to tackle the struggle between self-doubt and surety head-on. Though I made every effort to be as informed as possible, in the back of my mind there was always the nagging question: “But what do I know?”

Intellectual honesty is a difficult tightrope to walk. It requires balancing on the thin thread of your understanding amid a vast emptiness of missed details, hidden reports and lack of experience. The art of the process of writing authoritatively is to be aware of your ignorance, while still maintaining a constructive voice in the debate. Although this is the goal, egomaniacal journalists are rewarded for generating more readers, which invites less honest reporting.

With the debates surrounding the United States’ involvement in the Syrian conflict, one particular case of intellectual dishonesty has surfaced. I’m talking about Judith “We-found-WMDs-in-Iraq” Miller. Miller’s reports, printed in the New York Times between 2002 and 2005, were one important reason the U.S. government gained support in going to war with a country that had nothing to do with 9/11. On Sept. 8, 2002, Miller and Michael Gordon made the front page of the New York Times with a story about Saddam Hussein’s quest for aluminum tubes “specially designed” to enrich uranium. The pair’s anonymous sources allegedly argued that “the first sign of a ‘smoking gun’ … may be a mushroom cloud.” It’s also worth noting that Miller was, and still is, a pro-war conservative. In fact, she’s now a regular reporter for NewsMax, a neoconservative media outlet. 

The stakes in this story were high, but reports have shown that lenience toward Miller’s work started early. William Jackson Jr., writer for Editor & Publisher Online, said that Miller’s reporting “frequently [did] not meet published [New York] Times standards.” Yet these standards didn’t apply to Miller because, well, she’s Judith Miller.

Part of the reason Miller’s reporting went unchecked at the paper was that she consistently delivered front-page stories from reputable resources. During the newspaper industry’s decline, generating solid readership isn’t always easy.

So what does Miller have to do with intellectual honesty?

Journalistic objectivism is largely considered a myth, but, in Miller’s case, partisanship had clearly overstepped its bounds. Her reporting, though it might have been an earnest quest for truth, was clearly skewed by her personal beliefs. Meanwhile, her power and prestige prevented anyone else at the Times from fact-checking or requesting more extensive reporting. To the credit of the Times, the State Department even verified her reports, which advanced the narrative of Iraqi wrongdoing that they were trying to establish. Still, you’d think that having Ahmad Chalabi, a leader of the Iraqi National Congress leading up to the 2003 invasion of Iraq who was working to overthrow Saddam Hussein’s government, listed as a primary source would raise at least a few eyebrows.

The hardest thing for a journalist to do is admit that she doesn’t know or understand something. After all, your job as a journalist is to be well-informed. But this is precisely why skepticism and self-doubt are crucial for journalists — and all writers, for that matter. Miller is an example of what happens when you rely too heavily on limited sources and your editors don’t question your version of the truth.

Journalism is a kind of collective quest for truth: synthesizing sources and collaborating with editors. But when one person dominates the conversation, information is polarized to a version of the truth so subjective it’s often entirely inaccurate.

From new information to personal beliefs, writers should always ask themselves: “What do I know?”

Write to Natalie at ncr11@pitt.edu.