Tsk, tsk, tsk
The journalism reviews don't like Fornigate one little bit. Plus, the Herald
versus Scientology, and Michael Kelly's dis-and-tell disclosure.
The church ladies of media criticism have finally weighed in on the Monica
Lewinsky affair. And, like Dana Carvey in an old Saturday Night Live
skit, they're pursing their lips, narrowing their eyes, and hissing, "Well,
isn't that special?"
True, the venerable Columbia Journalism Review, published by the
Columbia School of Journalism, and the only-slightly-less-venerable American
Journalism Review, based at the University of Maryland's College of
Journalism, are supposed to be judgmental in a blue-nosed, blue-haired,
tsk-tsk sort of way.
But their March issues, coming six weeks after the Lewinsky scandal broke (and
five weeks after the backlash against the media began), indulge themselves in
such condemnatory passion that the actual news that touched off the frenzy gets
lost. Worrying about media ethics, and how the public perceives those ethics,
is fine. But too much of the criticism in AJR and CJR comes off
as tautological: the press blew it because its coverage of a sordid, demeaning
affair makes it look as if something sordid and demeaning happened. Well?
To be sure, the two magazines take different routes to get to the same place.
AJR, the feistier of the pair, splashes a salacious SCANDAL! on the
cover. And the package includes a terrific inside look by Alicia Shepard on how
Newsweek's Michael Isikoff developed the story, only to be beaten when
Internet gossip Matt Drudge revealed that Isikoff's editors had held it. But
the tone is set by a lengthy Sherry Ricchiardi thumbsucker titled "Standards
Are the First Casualty," in which she complains: "Innuendo quickly replaced
hard facts. `Sources say' became the phrase du jour, often without any
indication where those sources might be coming from. `If it is true' became the
fashionable disclaimer."
But AJR's criticism is mild compared to that of its competitor. To look
at CJR's tabloidesque cover, which blares WHERE WE WENT WRONG, you'd
think the entire Lewinsky affair was the overheated concoction of a
Clinton-bashing media in league, as Hillary Clinton and Sidney Blumenthal might
put it, with a vast right-wing conspiracy. Inside, veteran journalist and
historian Jules Witcover weighs in with an over-the-top screed against his
colleagues. "Into the vacuum created by a scarcity of clear and credible
attribution raced all manner of rumor, gossip, and, especially, hollow
sourcing, making the reports of some mainstream outlets scarcely
distinguishable from supermarket tabloids," Witcover writes. "The rush to be
first or to be more sensational created a picture of irresponsibility seldom
seen in the reporting of presidential affairs."
Yet AJR and CJR both build their cases on selectively chosen
facts and niggling misdemeanors. They blast the likes of U.S. News &
World Report, the Economist, CNN's Wolf Blitzer, and ABC's Sam
Donaldson for speculating that Clinton might resign, but they fail to note that
prominent ex-Clinton officials such as George Stephanopoulos, Leon Panetta, and
Dee Dee Myers were saying the same thing. Both journalism reviews rightly
criticize CNN's Larry King for hyping a New York Times bombshell that
wasn't, and the Wall Street Journal and the Dallas Morning News
for rushing onto their Web sites thinly sourced (and apparently untrue) stories
about witnesses to presidential sex. But those stories were quickly retracted,
and -- more to the point -- they are the most egregious specific examples
CJR and AJR manage to come up with.
Ultimately, the case against the media is more about atmospherics, even
metaphor, than it is about specifics. Nowhere is that clearer than in the
matter of the alleged semen-stained dress, a legitimate aspect of the affair
that the magazines dismiss as scandal-mongering at its most voyeuristic.
Witcover, for instance, cites "disavowals of its existence by Lewinsky's
lawyer, William Ginsburg," and concludes that the tale deserves some sort of
"sleaziest report award." Yet the issue was whether investigators were looking
for such a dress, and Witcover neglects to mention that Ginsburg confirmed --
on the record -- that they were. Ricchiardi calls the existence of the dress
one of "many juicy but unconfirmed tidbits that took on the aura of fact." But
as Adam Cohen notes in the February 16 Time magazine, ABC News revealed
two days after the scandal broke, based on information from "someone with
specific knowledge of the case," that Lewinsky had talked about saving such a
dress, "apparently as a kind of souvenir." That account has never been
refuted.
Witcover and Ricchiardi also express considerable discomfort with the
media's reliance on anonymous sources. Of course, as U.S. News columnist
Gloria Borger pointed out at a recent forum at Harvard's Kennedy School, it's
hard to imagine how the story could have been reported without the use
of such sources. But even if you concede the point, Lewinsky herself -- through
her mouthpiece, the ubiquitous Ginsburg -- has all but confirmed the broad
outlines of the scandal.
At one point, Ginsburg went so far as to say that Starr was "going to have to
give her immunity from any prosecution. We're offering him complete cooperation
and the complete truth, and we're promising him we will not go south on him as
apparently Susan McDougal did." This supplemented numerous reports --
apparently based on leaks from Starr's office, although possibly from Ginsburg
himself -- that Lewinsky had agreed to testify that she and Clinton had had a
sexual affair, but that she would not say the president had urged her to lie
under oath. Ginsburg and Starr couldn't close the deal, of course, and Ginsburg
now insists that nothing sexual took place. Thus may Fornigate be sputtering to
some sort of inconclusive conclusion. But just because Ginsburg has changed his
story doesn't mean the media were wrong to report it in the first
place.
In a muddled editorial, CJR puts the blame on increased
journalistic competition, the rise of the Internet, and accelerated news
cycles. It also cites as proof of the media's sins the results of a recent poll
by the Pew Research Center for the People and the Press, in which a solid
majority of respondents blasted news organizations for shoddy fact-checking,
wavering objectivity, and overkill -- a cop-out, given the scant evidence
CJR offers on those very issues.
"However the scandal turns out," the editorial intones, "the press stands to
lose in the court of public opinion." As if the Lewinsky affair weren't driving
circulation, cable news ratings, and Web-site hits through the roof.
Ultimately, CJR's reliance on poll results to make its case is
hypocritical. The media's task is to get the story and get it right. Based on
what's known so far, they've done a reasonably good job.
Two years ago, when I was reporting on a story about the Church of
Scientology's battles against its critics on the Internet
("BU's Scientology Connection," News, April 19, 1996),
I learned from anti-Scientology activists
that the Boston Herald was working on a Scientology piece, too. But
until last week, the story seemed to have disappeared.
It was worth the wait. Over the course of five days, from March 1 through 5,
Herald reporter Joseph Mallia laid out in staggering detail the church's
questionable indoctrination methods, the thousands of dollars it charges its
members, and the sordid past of its founder, the late science-fiction writer L.
Ron Hubbard.
Much of the Herald's material was familiar to anyone who's seen
Scientology pieces on 60 Minutes, or in the New York Times or
Time magazine. But much of it -- including revelations about the
church's attempts to reach out to the local black community through its Delphi
Academy, in Milton, and through the World Literacy Crusade, a church-affiliated
learn-to-read program -- was new. (And it was most unfortunate that former
Boston mayoral candidate Mel King wrote a letter to the editor supporting
Delphi and criticizing the Herald.)
Managing editor for news Andrew Gully says the story was delayed because of
several "false starts," but he insists that the Herald was always
committed to the project. Indeed, Herald editor Andy Costello told me a
year ago that the series would eventually be published.
There's a price to be paid for running such a critical series about an
organization as aggressive as Scientology. The Herald has been deluged
with e-mail, much of it from Scientologists and their supporters. Protesters
from Delphi Academy marched in front of One Herald Square. Scientology has been
fighting back in the media as well, dispatching church officials to local talk
shows.
Mallia, who's dodged Scud missiles in Israel and bullets in Haiti, backed out
of one chance to confront church supporters on WGBH-TV's Greater Boston
on March 3; and the paper's last-minute cancellation, which Gully attributes to
time constraints, led to an angry telephone exchange between Gully and the
show's host, Emily Rooney. But Mallia and deputy managing editor Jim McLaughlin
appeared the following night on WBZ Radio's David Brudnoy Show, trading
blows with Leisa Goodman, Scientology's Los Angeles-based flack.
The anti-Herald campaign is not over yet, promises the Reverend Heber
Jentzsch, president of the Church of Scientology International. "The attorneys
are trying to find out what's behind a 25-page story which reeks of racism and
bigotry, and contains more falsehoods per square inch than is physically
possible," Jensch says. "We're preparing a response, and it will be
well-distributed throughout Boston. I can promise you that it will be of
interest to the people of Boston who like to know the truth."
All Gully can say is that any allegations of falsehood will be checked out --
and, if proven, fessed up to.
The Herald's Scientology series can be found on the Web at
http://www.bostonherald.com/scientology.
Michael Kelly's Washington Post column of March 5, on Sidney
Blumenthal's brief moment in the sun, is so vicious that he manages to stay in
attack mode even in a parenthetical aside -- "full disclosure: I worked with
Blumenthal at the New Yorker and didn't like him."
Indeed. New Yorker editor Tina Brown hired Kelly because Blumenthal
refused to go after the Clintons. And even though Blumenthal remained on the
New Yorker's staff until last summer, Kelly barred Blumenthal from the
magazine's Washington office.
Articles from July 24, 1997 & before can be accessed here