Journalists Need to Slow Down, Re-Visit Ethics

By Jeanne Acton, Journalism Director | Thursday, January 24, 2013 10:32 AM

Pregnancy. Child Abuse. Suicide.

Pretty heavy topics for a high school newspaper. But back in the late 1980s those were the topics we covered.

At first glance, the topics may sound a bit sensational. Maybe even shocking.

And perhaps they could have been if we didn’t have our journalism teacher who drilled the importance of ethics and compassionate reporting into our heads.

“You don’t do a story to shock,” she used to tell us. “It must have purpose.”

So with every story idea, we discussed the purpose, the reason and need for doing the story. Would it help someone? Would it offer important information? Would it give voice to someone who had no voice?

My sophomore year, a freshmen took her own life. We didn’t do a story on that young girl. We didn’t try to interview her mother or friends about why she did such a heinous act. We didn’t describe how she died, her last few moments, the reasons why she may have done it. Her family was in enough pain without us shoving a recorder or notepad in their faces.

We chose not to sensationalize her death, not to cover it. As 16-year-olds, we knew better.

The following year, we ran an in-depth piece on suicide. We wrote stories about where students could get help. We wrote stories about potential signs of a suicidal teen. Our editor even interviewed the mother of the teen who committed suicide the previous year, and he wrote a beautiful, moving article.

That story focused on what it was like for this mother to live without her daughter. Steve, the editor, wrote the story with compassion and thoughtfulness.
That is how every sensitive story must be written.

It seems that journalists forgot that compassion last month when they were covering the Connecticut tragedy.

Compassion was traded for shock. And ethics for expediency.

As someone who regularly and proudly defends the media, I was both embarrassed and angry that day. And I still am.

The reporters shoved microphones in young kids’ faces and asked them to describe their horrific experience. They filmed families as they frantically looked for their children. They reported gory details on how exactly the killer shot the children, and how many times. We didn’t need every detail. We didn’t need every image.
America knew it was a horrific tragedy. Twenty-six lives were lost. Twenty little boys and girls were taken too soon. That was enough.

Given a few days or even a few hours, the parents would speak out. Some of the kids might speak out. But it should have been their choice — in their time.
And the act I questioned the most is that the media reported the killer’s name, albeit incorrect for many hours, over and over and over.

We didn’t need that. We didn’t need to glorify him.

The night of the tragedy, we didn’t turn the television on in my house. In fact, I kept it off for several days. I have a six and eight year old. I didn’t want them to see the images of wailing parents and weeping children, of tiny body bags. I certainly didn’t want them to learn the name of the killer.

They don’t need that.

Nor does the rest of America.

I am willing to bet that most Americans know the name of the shooter in the Connecticut tragedy. In fact, I bet most know the names of all of the mass murderers from the last 10 years. We know because the media drums their names into our heads.

The media immortalizes them.

What if that is what they wanted? We know that is what the Columbine shooters wanted. They told us. And we delivered.

Since we now live in this 24-hour news cycle, the media is faster and more brazen. The race is on. Get there first. Flip on the lights and let ‘er rip.

It seems there are no filters, no fact-checkers, no edits. The reporter hears it, and we see it. Right or wrong.

Even National Public Radio had to apologize for reporting misinformation during the Connecticut tragedy. Speed, not accuracy, drove the media that day.

Would it have been so horrible if America learned about the tragedy a few minutes, a few hours later? Would it have mattered? It would not have changed the facts, but it might have given the reporters and editors time to at least get their facts right. 

I would have cried either way.

And I wouldn’t be this angry, this disappointed, this embarrassed.

I have my opinions about gun control, and you can probably guess what they are. For now, I’ll keep them to myself or post them on my personal blog.

But as director of a scholastic journalism association, I feel compelled to talk about the very foundation of our trade: ethics. We must put them first.

Again, my high school journalism teacher, Mary Pulliam, warned us time and again that once something is in print, it can’t be taken back. So we discussed, debated every detail of every potentially controversial story we reported. It took more time, but it was worth it. I hope every journalism teacher and publications adviser out there will do the same.

As a fellow journalism colleague said, “The fundamental problem is that editors, producers, reporters only ask the question ‘Can we do this?’ They don’t ask, ‘Should we do this?’”

All reporters — from CBS and CNN to the Podunk High Press —  must ask that question first and foremost.  I am not advocating sanitizing horror. The media must cover tragedies. America needs to know — even when it’s as horrific as Connecticut.

But we don’t need every detail. Every gasp. Every tear. Every drop of blood even before it’s had a chance to dry.