Answers to another set of questions around ethics and online journalism, posed by a UK student, and reproduced here as part of the FAQ series:

Do you believe online journalism presents new ethical dilemmas and should have standards of its own?

Yes, I think any changing situation – whether technological or cultural – presents new ethical dilemmas.

But should ‘online journalism’ have a separate code? I don’t see how it can. Where would you draw the line when most journalists work online? Ethical standards are relatively platform-agnostic, but journalists do have to revisit those when they’re working in new environments.

How far do you agree with the notion that immediacy is now being prioritised over accuracy?

Whether I agree or disagree doesn’t matter – that notion can only be proved or disproved based on evidence, not opinion. You could make arguments on both sides: the internet allows for faster news (immediacy), and also for more fact-checked news (interactivity), but ultimately it comes down to evidence (and remembering that correlation is not causation – even if you discover a decrease in fact-checking that might be down to institutional and commercial factors rather than technological ones)

Do you agree that the increase in competition in online news has the potential to glorify rumour and hearsay?

Again, whether I agree or disagree doesn’t matter – especially when there are terms here that need further definition, such as “glorify”. News consumers have always been interested in rumour and hearsay, regardless of the technology. The question is, are news media providing more of that, and if so is it because of technology, commercial pressures, or other factors?

You’d need quantitative research to get the numbers and qualitative research (e.g. ethnography) to get the motivations.

Do you think it is now harder for the reader to recognise news from a reliable source?

No. I think people are more critical news consumers. Partly because of the spread of media education, partly because more people have become media producers in their own right, and partly because new media allows people to seek out the sources of news and/or competing versions of events.

But again, you need research to prove this, not just my opinion.

How is online news affecting traditional values of objectivity?

The factors that gave rise to objectivity in news (a relatively modern idea) are to some extent challenged by new media: there is no limitation on ‘channels’, so no need to control who has access to those to ensure equal voice. The need for a mass market and to appeal to advertisers is reduced, so publishers can be less ‘neutral’.

There’s also cross-cultural and market competition influence here: UK publications (less objective) entering the US market (where objectivity and neutrality is a strong value).

There’s a lot of literature on the weaknesses and limitations of objectivity as a news value – it’s worth reading that if you haven’t already.

How is online journalism affecting the notion of transparency?

I’m not sure how the notion of transparency is affected. Certainly it is being used more widely, not just in journalism but in politics too. Essentially internet technologies make it possible to be more transparent, and gives less reason not to be.

Do you think that online journalism has threatened the role of ‘gate-keeping’?

See the answer on objectivity above – there are still gatekeepers, but these have multiplied to such an extent that the term is almost meaningless and it is more useful to talk of those without access to publishing and distribution technology, or of unequal access/literacy.

Journalists always have to respond to the information environment their audience (now users) live in, in all sorts of ways from the language and jargon that they can use, to the assumptions they can make about prior knowledge and understanding.

They are still gatekeepers in the sense that they must make editorial judgements on what to report, but they are now more likely to assume that their users have access to various other pieces of information, that the story has already broken elsewhere, etc.

There are debates concerning whether some content available online is entirely ethical; e.g. the execution video of Saddam Hussein.  Do you think there is a need for some form of gate-keeping?

Firstly, we need to remember that ethics are culturally dependent: what appears offensive to some cultures will be acceptable in others, including some images that UK users might find quite upsetting.

This become problematic when we move to a global pubishing environment in two ways: firstly, we have access to information from cultures with different ethical frameworks and tastes; and secondly, we are open to accusations of censorship from members of those cultures if we refuse to publish footage which they are aware of.

With that established, you then have to weigh up the advantages and disadvantages of establishing some sort of gatekeeping structure on the internet to somehow ‘protect’ people from information that may be offensive.

This gatekeeping already exists – for example, nazi memorabilia online in France, or Holocaust denial sites in Germany. But any level of gatekeeping is open to abuse and that should be recognised: proposals to allow sites to be shut down based on accusations of copyright abuse, for example, may sidestep due process and have potentially damaging implications for free speech (imagine a shop being closed down because ‘someone’ says it is illegal, or because the shop next door is illegal, i.e. shares hosting).

Your own example is a good one: to find that video, you have to seek it out. Therefore, you are taking on responsibility for that. If a media organisation shows you it, then they take on some responsibility.

But should they decide whether you are allowed to seek it out at all? And who decides who ‘they’ are?

How would you define a professional journalist in an age where anyone is able to publish online? Would you class a blogger as an online journalist?

A blogger is someone who uses a blog to publish content. The term is based on platform, not the content itself, so you can’t say a blogger is or isn’t a journalist. As I’ve written before, it’s like asking “Is ice cream strawberry?”

A journalist is someone who practises journalism – it’s as simple as that. Being employed by a media organisation is not enough alone (otherwise ad sales, marketing, distribution and other staff would also be ‘journalists’).

So you then look at definitions like Stuart Adams’s. I think it’s pretty broad, but also you have to ask: why does it matter what we call someone? Is it ego?

Do you believe that bloggers and other citizen journalists should be expected to work under the same codes of practice as professional journalists?

No, for the simple reason that professional journalists don’t all work under the same codes of practice.

A journalist chooses to work under a code of practice in two ways: through joining the NUJ or similar professional body, and by doing so signing up to their code of conduct; and through becoming an employee of a publisher who has signed up to a code of conduct (that might be the PCC, Ofcom, or neither) and may have their own internal one too.

Bloggers and CJs have the same choice. As publishers themselves, they can write their own code of conduct. They can join the NUJ or another body which has a code. Or they can abide by a personal code of conduct which is implicit in their work. But that’s their choice, just as it is the choice of journalists and publishers.

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UPDATE: Readers of this blog can now get a 20% discount off the book by using the code ME1211 when ordering on the Routledge site.

Magazine Editing is one of those books that I’ve used for years in my teaching. Unlike most books in the field, it has a healthy focus on the less glamorous aspects of running magazines, such as managing teams and budgets, editorial strategy, and the significant proportion of the industry – B2B, contract publishing, controlled-circulation, subscription-based – that you don’t see on supermarket shelves.

For the third edition, publishers Routledge approached me to update the book for a multiplatform age. That work is now done – and the new edition is now out.

Although it now has my name on it, the book remains primarily the work of John Morrish, who wrote the first two editions of the book. Editing his work gave me a fresh appreciation of just what a timeless job he has done in identifying the skills needed by magazine editors – as I write in the introduction:

“It is striking how much of the advice in the book is more important than ever. In a period of enormous change it is key to focus on the core skills of magazine editing: clear leadership, effective management, people skills and creative thinking around what exactly it is that your readers are buying into – whether that’s printed on paper, pixels on a screen, or something intangible like a sense of community and belonging.”

So if you can find one of the older editions cheap, you’ll still find it useful.

So what did I add to the new edition of Magazine Editing? It goes without saying that digital magazines (web-only, apps) are now covered. The diversification of revenue models – the increased importance of events, merchandising, data, mobile and apps – is now explored, as well as how online advertising works, and how it differs from traditional advertising. How to use online resources, including web analytics, to better understand your audience and inform your editorial strategy; and how magazine campaigns are changed by the dynamics of the web.

The chapter on leading and managing now includes sections on managing information overload, social bookmarking and social media policies, and there’s a new section on legal guidance on placements and internships. The budgeting sections now include online considerations, and there’s an exploration of the pros and cons of using free or minimal cost third party services against building tools in-house. A passage from the section on ‘Making money online’ is illustrative of the shifts facing the industry:

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There are two Cabinet Office consultations taking place at the moment around open data: one around data policy for the new Public Data Corporation (PDC), and another around the government’s policy around transparency and open data strategy.

This should be of enormous interest to any media organisation – a key opportunity to influence the availability of information of public interest.

For example, among the issues under consideration are (summed up by Tony Hirst): charging for PDC information, licensing and regulation.

These will all be vital elements in the future of journalism – news organisations and journalists should be vocal in shaping them.

The deadline for both consultations is October 27.

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Various commentators over the past year have made the observation that “Data is the new oil“. If that’s the case, journalists should be following the money. But they’re not.

Instead it’s falling to the likes of Tony Hirst (an Open University academic), Dan Herbert (an Oxford Brookes academic) and Chris Taggart (a developer who used to be a magazine publisher) to fill the scrutiny gap. Recently all three have shone a light into the move towards transparency and open data which anyone with an interest in information would be advised to read.

Hirst wrote a particularly detailed post breaking down the results of a consultation about higher education data.

Herbert wrote about the publication of the first Whole of Government Accounts for the UK.

And Taggart made one of the best presentations I’ve seen on the relationship between information and democracy.

What all three highlight is how control of information still represents the exercise of power, and how shifts in that control as a result of the transparency/open data/linked data agenda are open to abuse, gaming, or spin.

Control, Cost, Confusion

Hirst, for example, identifies the potential for data about higher education to be monopolised by one organisation – UCAS, or HEFCE – at extra cost to universities, resulting in less detailed information for students and parents.

His translation of the outcomes of a HEFCE consultation brings to mind the situation that existed for years around Ordnance Survey data: taxpayers were paying for the information up to 8 times over, and the prohibitive cost of accessing that data ended up inspiring the Free Our Data campaign. As Hirst writes:

“The data burden is on the universities?! But the aggregation – where the value is locked up – is under the control of the centre? … So how much do we think the third party software vendors are going to claim for to make the changes to their systems? And hands up who thinks that those changes will also be antagonistic to developers who might be minded to open up the data via APIs. After all, if you can get data out of your commercially licensed enterprise software via a programmable API, there’s less requirement to stump up the cash to pay for maintenance and the implementation of “additional” features…”

Meanwhile Dan Herbert analyses another approach to data publication: the arrival of commercial-style accounting reports for the public sector. On the surface this all sounds transparent, but it may be just the opposite:

“There is absolutely no empiric evidence that shows that anyone actually uses the accounts produced by public bodies to make any decision. There is no group of principals analogous to investors. There are many lists of potential users of the accounts. The Treasury, CIPFA (the UK public sector accounting body) and others have said that users might include the public, taxpayers, regulators and oversight bodies. I would be prepared to put up a reward for anyone who could prove to me that any of these people have ever made a decision based on the financial reports of a public body. If there are no users of the information then there is no point in making the reports better. If there are no users more technically correct reports do nothing to improve the understanding of public finances. In effect all that better reports do is legitimise the role of professional accountants in the accountability process.

Like Hirst, he argues that the raw data – and the ability to interrogate that – should instead be made available because (quoting Anthony Hopwood): “Those with the power to determine what enters into organisational accounts have the means to articulate and diffuse their values and concerns, and subsequently to monitor, observe and regulate the actions of those that are now accounted for.”

This is a characteristic of the transparency initiative that we need to be sharper around as journalists. The Manchester Evening News discovered this when they wanted to look at spending cuts. What they found was a dataset that had been ‘spun’ to make it harder to see the story hidden within, and to answer their question they first had to unspin it – or, in data journalism parlance, clean it. Likewise, having granular data – ideally from more than one source – allows us to better judge the quality of the information itself.

Chris Taggart meanwhile looks at the big picture: friction, he says, underpins society as we know it. Businesses such as real estate are based on it; privacy exists because of it; and democracies depend on it. As friction is removed through access to information, we get problems such as “jurisdiction failure” (corporate lawyers having “hacked” local laws to international advantage), but also issues around the democratic accountability of ad hoc communities and how we deal with different conceptions of privacy across borders.

Questions to ask of ‘transparency’

The point isn’t about the answers to the questions that Taggart, Herbert and Hirst raise – it’s the questions themselves, and the fact that journalists are, too often, not asking them when we are presented with yet another ‘transparency initiative‘.

If data is the new oil those three posts and a presentation provide a useful introduction to following the money.

(By the way, for a great example of a journalist asking all the right questions of one such initiative, however, see The Telegraph’s Conrad Quilty-Harper on the launch of Police.uk)

Data is not just some opaque term; something for geeks: it’s information: the raw material we deal in as journalists. Knowledge. Power. The site of a struggle for control. And considering it’s a site that journalists have always fought over, it’s surprisingly placid as we enter one of the most important ages in the history of information control.

As Heather Brooke writes today of the hacking scandal:

“Journalism in Britain is a patronage system – just like politics. It is rare to get good, timely information through merit (eg by trawling through public records); instead it’s about knowing the right people, exchanging favours. In America reporters are not allowed to accept any hospitality. In Britain, taking people out to lunch is de rigueur. It’s where information is traded. But in this setting, information comes at a price.

“This is why there is collusion between the elites of the police, politicians and the press. It is a cartel of information. The press only get information by playing the game. There is a reason none of the main political reporters investigated MPs’ expenses – because to do so would have meant falling out with those who control access to important civic information. The press – like the public – have little statutory right to information with no strings attached. Inside parliament the lobby system is an exercise in client journalism that serves primarily the interests of the powerful. Freedom of information laws bust open the cartel.”

But laws come with loopholes and exemptions, red tape and ignorance. And they need to be fought over.

One bill to extend the FOI law to “remove provisions permitting Ministers to overrule decisions of the Information Commissioner and Information Tribunal; to limit the time allowed for public authorities to respond to requests involving consideration of the public interest; to amend the definition of public authorities” and more, for example, was recently put on indefinite hold. How many publishers and journalists are lobbying to un-pause this?

So let’s simplify things. And in doing so, there’s no better place to start than David Eaves’ 3 laws of government data.

This is summed up as the need to be able to “Find, Play and Share” information. For the purposes of journalism, however, I’ll rephrase them as 3 questions to ask of any transparency initiative:

1. If information is to be published in a database behind a form, then it’s hidden in plain sight. It cannot be easily found by a journalist, and only simple questions will be answered.
2. If information is to be published in PDFs or JPEGs, or some format that you need proprietary software to see, then it cannot be easily be questioned by a journalist
3. If you will have to pass a test to use the information, then obstacles will be placed between the journalist and that information

The next time an organisation claims that they are opening up their information, tick those questions off. (If you want more, see Gurstein’s list of 7 elements that are needed to make effective use of open data).

At the moment, the history of information is being written without journalists.

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If you read the literature on journalism’s professional ideology – or just follow any argument about journalists-versus-the-rest-of-the-world – you’ll notice particular themes recurring.

Like any profession, journalism separates itself from other fields of work through articulating how it is different. Reading Mark Deuze’s book Media Work recently I was struck by how a similar, parallel, ideology is increasingly articulated by bloggers. And I wanted to sketch that out.

First, two disclaimers: I am not claiming that bloggers are a coherent body any more than journalists are. Blogging is of course not a profession, and many bloggers do not make any claims beyond their own personal beliefs.

What I am exploring here is a common ideology that a particular contingent of bloggers expresses when attacked by journalists, or when attacking professional journalism.

One of the reasons this parallels journalism’s professional ideology may be because the arguments are often made in response to that exact ideology: journalists argue that bloggers are not objective; bloggers counter by arguing that journalists are not transparent, and so on.

Secondly, this is not based on any systematic research, but rather reflecting on ongoing analysis over the past few years. I’m putting this up for discussion and as a basis for further research, rather than suggesting it is the finished article.

Ideology 1: Public service vs accountability

The journalist’s claim is that they are performing a public service, whether that is informing the public, holding power to account, giving a voice to the voiceless (or the ‘voice of the people’), providing a forum for public discussion, or something else.

Bloggers articulate a similar ideology: that they are directly accountable to the public through their comments and the ability of others to direct them in how they ‘serve’.

The journalist’s public service is top-down; the blogger’s, bottom-up.

Ideology 2: Objectivity vs transparency

This is a long-running debate that I barely have to articulate, as it is easily the most prominent ideological battle that has taken place between journalists and bloggers. But here it is: journalists say they are objective while bloggers are subjective. Bloggers argue that any claim to objectivity is flawed, that the grounds for it (limited access to publication) no longer apply, and that in the age of the link transparency is their own badge of honour. Journalists who do not link to their sources, who take credit for the work of others, and who fail to declare interests are all targets in this battle.

Ideology 3: Autonomy vs non-commercial

A part of journalism’s ideology that is employed much less often in defending the profession is its autonomy: the fact that journalists are independent of government and that there is a church/state separation between advertising and content.

Bloggers articulate a similar argument around their very non-professionalism: because we do not rely on advertising or cover sales, say the bloggers, we enjoy more independence than journalists. We do not need to chase ratings or circulations; we do not need to worry about the institutional voice, or offending advertisers.

Ideology 4: Immediacy vs ‘Publish then filter’

The fourth aspect of journalism’s ideology identified by Deuze is ‘immediacy’, that is, journalists’ desire to be first to report the news.

Bloggers have their own version of ‘immediacy’, however, which is that they ‘publish, then filter’, allowing users to act as their editors (or ‘curators’) rather than being constrained by any editorial production line.

It’s notable that as journalists’ claims to immediacy come under particular challenge in an age where anyone can publish and distribute information, some journalists and news organisations are re-orienting themselves towards a role of ‘curation’, and using the ideology of ‘editorial process’ to defend themselves against the new entrants.

Ideology 5: Ethics vs ethical

This is a line that has always fascinated me. Journalists frequently employ their professional ‘ethics’ as a defence against the incursion of the blogging barbarians. But if journalists were so ethical, why are they consistently one of the least trusted professions?

Journalistic ethics are explicitly declared in documents such as the NUJ’s Code of Conduct, individual organisations’ own statements of principles, and even journalists’ contracts, while organisations such as the PCC act to further enforce behaviour.

Similar attempts to create a code of ethics for bloggers have been met with objections – for reasons not too dissimilar to the reasons that journalists do not want their profession to be professionalised: it would limit access, and provide an opportunity for governments to control the medium.

But bloggers are fiercely ethical. How is difficult to pin down – the transparency ideology outlined above is part of that, and many elements are shared with the ethics asserted by journalism: protecting sources, for instance. But broadly this ideology is one that is held in opposition to the worst excesses of journalism: bloggers would argue that they do not resort to underhand tactics in pursuit of a story: exploiting vulnerable people, passing off others’ work as their own, or pretending to be someone else.

What have I missed?

There may be other themes that I have missed – or examples of the above (after I wrote a first draft of this, Jay Rosen published his own selection of quotes here, some of which I have linked to above). It may be that journalism’s own ideology is changing in response to these challenges (as it seems to be regarding immediacy vs curation). I’d love to know what you think – or if you know of any research in the area (some here and here).

UPDATE: More from Jay on this in 2008.

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The following is cross-posted from a guest post I wrote for Wannabe Hacks.

Objectivity is one of the key pillars of journalistic identity: it is one of the ways in which we identify ourselves as a profession. But for the past decade it has been subject to increasing criticism from those (and I include myself here) who suggest that sustaining the appearance of objectivity is unfeasible and unsustainable, and that transparency is a much more realistic aim.

Recently I’ve been revisiting some of the research on journalistic objectivity for my inaugural lecture at City University. But as I only mention objectivity once in that lecture, I thought it was worth fleshing out the issue further.

Things change

One of the reasons why I think studying journalism is so important at the moment is that the profession is rooted in a series of practices and beliefs that have specific historical roots – and things change.

David Mindich’s book on the history of objectivity, for example, is essential reading as an exploration of those roots: the rise of the scientific method in universities, and the increasing numbers of journalists to have passed through such education (as well as the rise of journalism schools); the establishment of the Associated Press and newswires in creating a neutral style that could be adapted by regional clients; and of course the increasing role of advertisers in funding publishing.

When broadcast news came along, the principle of objective journalism was so well established that it was enshrined in broadcasting regulations, not least because of the small numbers of channels and the fear that one opinion might be allowed to dominate those.

This doesn’t mean that objectivity is bad, or good – just that there were reasons for journalism’s adoption of objectivity, and we should bear those in mind when it is challenged. Indeed, we should continually challenge it ourselves. Comparing objectivity in the UK versus the US is a good illustration: journalism schools were not established here until half a century after the US; fewer journalists came from higher education; and a smaller country relied less on newswires.

Stil, journalists on both sides of the Atlantic rely on claims of objectivity for their professional status, especially when they feel threatened by those practising journalism outside of institutions.

Revisiting objectivity

However, these claims often rely on a concept of objectivity that is now over a century old.

The scientific method that helped give birth to objective journalism has developed considerably since then. Scientists now recognise that the subject of observations can be altered by the mere presence of the observer; researchers are asked to reflect on their own biases as part of their investigations; and any degree-level piece of work is expected to identify why a particular research method was used, and the weaknesses inherent in it.

As journalists, however, we still argue that we are being objective by merely providing ‘both sides of the story’.

When stories were limited to 300 words or 30 seconds, there was justification for that version of objectivity: we did not have the luxury of thousands of words to expound upon why this source was selected for interview, the limitations of this dataset, or our own conception of the field under investigation.

Now those limits on space and time are removed by the web – but there are still limits on our own time, and the need to engage with our users: we cannot waste their time and ours on explaining methodology.

But I do believe – if we are to cling to the principle of objectivity – that we need to reflect more on why we do what we do – and how that affects the results.

The role of journalism in a democracy

Lokman Tsui, in his ethnography of Global Voices, provides a useful framework to begin with. He makes a distinction between different types of journalism, based on their professional ideology:

‘Professional journalism’ sees its role as providing citizens with information – as part of a liberal democracy.

‘Public journalism’ sees itself as part of a deliberative democracy, in which the media provides a public forum for debate and consensus.

And alernative media aims to encourage participation and engagement as part of a participatory democracy.

In addition he identifies a ‘journalism of hospitality’ – the model represented by Global Voices – which sees itself as part of a communicative democracy, what traditional journalists would describe as “Giving a voice to the voiceless”.

Starting with this framework allows us to ask ourselves what role we see our journalism as playing. That role may be shaped by the institution we work for, or by what makes us passionate about journalism – and most likely it is a negotiation between both.

Culture clash

The point is that we ask the question.

Part of the drive towards transparency in journalism is because users do not believe we are being honest in the way that we go about journalism. The increasing availability of alternative voices and user generated content calls into question our selection of sources – and the over-reliance on information from officials, unnamed sources, and friends.

That is not a criticism of objectivity, but an aspiration towards its modern form rather than its 19th century roots.

Those differing views of journalism – public, professional, alternative, hospitable – have been kept largely separate in institutional silos until now – but the online space has brought them all together – and others besides – creating a culture clash that leaves many people defending their position without really analysing why they hold it in the first place.

As educators we should be teaching our students to be aware of their positions and how that affects what they report on, how they report it, and who gets a voice in its coverage. They may choose different positions depending on the nature of the subject, the medium, and the audience – playing to strengths rather than operating through habit.

But if we see objectivity as just a badge to wear to make us different from our readers then we mistake the ends for the means. Objectivity is not setting down a convenient fence and selecting the people on either side that are easiest to reach – it is aspiring to create something that is representative of reality, while acknowledging and addressing the weaknesses in how we do that. And that includes being transparent.

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A welcome window of clarity on the issue of whether bloggers can record public council meetings today: Local Government Secretary Eric Pickles has weighed in to say that public meetings should be open to bloggers and that they should “routinely allow online filming of public discussions as part of increasing their transparency”

It’s an issue that I’ve been investigating for a while on Help Me Investigate: while some councils actively stream their own meetings, and others allow members of the public to do the same, some councils explicitly forbid recording, others allow audio but require mayoral permission for video, and a few have conducted ‘investigations’ of citizens for daring to record public proceedings (and councillors), or ejected them from the room (see video above).

Pickles’ guidance – and the accompanying letter sent to all councils – provides useful material to show uncooperative councils.

The letter calls on councils to give “credible community or ‘hyper-local’ bloggers and online broadcasters the same routine access to council meetings as the traditional accredited media have”

It also reassures councils that “giving greater access will not contradict data protection law requirements”. This is a key part, as data protection is often used as an excuse to prevent filming. The Help Me Investigate investigation revealed a worrying ignorance regarding data protection laws by councils even in formal internal reports. Other areas, including privacy, copyright, defamation and “procedural matters” are covered in this blog post rounding up some of the investigation’s findings.

Other material that bloggers may find useful are mentioned in Pickles’ announcement. They include The Public Bodies (Admission to Meetings) Act 1960; The Local Government Act of 1972 and The Local Government (Access to Information) Act 1985.

I’m working on producing a cribsheet for bloggers wanting to record their local council’s public meetings. If you want to help, please leave a comment or subscribe to the investigation blog.

UPDATE: Philip John is compiling a list of who’s doing what in terms of recording, streaming, tweeting and liveblogging council meetings.

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It’s been a good week for followers of that endangered beast objectivity. On Friday Glenn Greenwald reported on factual inaccuracies in Time’s Wikileaks article, and the ‘correction’ that was then posted (reproduced above). Greenwald writes:

“The most they’re willing to do now is convert it into a “they-said/he-said” dispute.  But what they won’t do — under any circumstances — is state clearly that the Government’s accusations are false, even where, as here, they unquestionably are.”

Meanwhile, the BBC is facing a viral backlash (described as “lobbying” by a spokesperson) over Ben Brown’s interview with Jody McIntyre (transcript here):

Kevin Bakhurst has responded to the complaints and the copious comments on his post are worth reading in full – not only because many of them flesh out the debate extremely well (and others would sit well in a textbook on interviewing technique), but because they provide a compelling story of how people’s relationship with the media is changing.

In particular, on the subject of balance one journalist comments:

“This story demonstrates the fallacy of ‘balanced reporting’. On the evidence of the video Mr McIntyre is almost certainly a victim of an assault and battery, he should sue, and if he does – he will almost certainly win. Even if were he found to be in some way contributorily negligent ‘for rolling towards the police’ as it were – the Tort will still have been committed by the police. The Law makes it clear there is no such balance, yet through this kind of aggressive cross examination, perpetrator and victim are reduced to the same standing in the eyes of the viewer: both are placed under suspicion. And – vitally – to begin with such suspicion is not sceptical, but cynical. There’s a considerable difference.”

Meanwhile Kevin Marsh makes a strong argument against the swing from objectivity towards “transparency” as “replacing one impossibility with another”.

I lay all these out as fertile ground for any discussion on objectivity, transparency and ethics.

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This week a new nail was driven into the coffin of the notion of journalistic objectivity. The culprit? The Washington Post’s leaked social media policy.

The policy is aimed at preserving the appearance of objectivity rather than its actual existence. It focuses on what journalists are perceived to be, rather than what they actually do.

And in doing so, it hits upon the very reason why their attempt is doomed from the start:

“Our online data trails reflect on our professional reputations and those of The Washington Post. Be sure that your pattern of use does not suggest, for example, that you are interested only in people with one particular view of a topic or issue.”

Our behaviour as journalists is now measurable. And measurability gives the lie to the pretence that journalists behave like scientists, impartially observing the petri dish of society.

That pretence has been crumbling for years. In 1976 the Glasgow Media Group‘s Bad News study demonstrated how TV news favoured powerful groups by measuring a number of factors in news coverage. Dozens of other studies have followed a similar vein, using the measurability of journalistic output as their barometer. Meanwhile, depending where you sit politically, you’ll find a right-wing or left-wing media conspiracy to believe in.

Objectivity was always a phantom conjured by publishers to appeal to maximum audiences and advertisers [see comments fleshing out objectivity as method vs style]. Regulators then helped by requiring objectivity to broadcast in a limited bandwidth spectrum. The first nail in its coffin came with the end of those limits. As Dan Gillmor explained in The End of Objectivity:

“Objectivity is a construct of recent times. One reason for its rise in the journalism sphere has been the consolidation of newspapers and television into monopolies and oligopolies in the past half-century. If one voice overwhelms all the others, there is a public interest in playing stories as straight as possible — not favoring one side over the other (or others, to be more precise, as there are rarely just two sides to any issue).

“There were good business reasons to be “objective,” too, not least that a newspaper didn’t want to make large parts of its community angry. And, no doubt, libel law has played a role, too. If a publication could say it “got both sides,” perhaps a libel plaintiff would have more trouble winning.”

It was also born from 19th century beliefs in the scientific method and the search for abstract ‘truth’. But society is not a petri dish; and journalists are no scientists: their methodologies are flawed by the need for narrative and the rhythm of the deadline. And most don’t understand scientific methods at all.

So when you can not only measure the lack of balance in journalistic output, but also the lack of balance in journalists’ behaviour and relationships online, the game is well and truly up.

Imagine you’re a trainee journalist who has grown up in a Web 2.0 world: a member of countless Facebook groups; signatory to a dozen online petitions; tagged in Flickr galleries of protests and rallies. Oh, and your profile tells us not only your gender, but your ethnicity, religion, relationship status and sexuality. Will an offer of a job on the Washington Post now come with the request that you cut all ties to your previous life and wipe all records of your former existence as you join the monastic seclusion of Journalistic Objectivity?

Yes, journalists have opinions. And friends. And they rely on easily accessible sources.

Well, hold the front page.

So there lies the problem - but also the solution. Transparency is hastening the demise of the already crumbling notion of journalistic objectivity; but it also represents the best hope for journalistic integrity – and ultimately, for many journalists that was what the pursuit of objectivity was about.

As David Weinberger argues:

“Transparency subsumes objectivity. Anyone who claims objectivity should be willing to back that assertion up by letting us look at sources, disagreements, and the personal assumptions and values supposedly bracketed out of the report.

“Objectivity without transparency increasingly will look like arrogance. And then foolishness. Why should we trust what one person — with the best of intentions — insists is true when we instead could have a web of evidence, ideas, and argument?”

So keep your social media profiles, and make yourself available to a thousand potential sources rather than relying on the dozen in your contacts book. Link to your raw material and let people comment on the holes in your narrative. Engage with online communities if you expect them to engage with you.And stop thinking about the PR of how you look and focus on the journalism of what you do.

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Following the tone set so succinctly by Glyn Moody, I thought I would add my own thoughts on what Sir Tim should say to the government when he bends their ear on transparency.

Firstly, I would second everything that Glyn says.

But I’m going to be cynical and strategic, and urge Sir Tim to emphasise the importance of open data on a couple of areas that are close to the government’s hearts.

1. Stimulating growth in the economy.

You could compare a genuinely significant release of public data to an economic stimulus.

Like cutting VAT, only cheaper.

At minimal cost you could have a new raw material that startups and established media organisations alike could create new value out of. Some of those would create commercial implications far exceeding any revenue generated within government (as research recently suggested in relation to the comparably valuable Ordnance Survey data).

Repeat after me: jobs and money, jobs and money.

2. Efficiencies and passing on costs in the public sector

Samuel Butler’s Erewhon puts it particularly well:

You will sooner gain your end by “appealing to men’s pockets, in which they have generally something of their own, than to their heads, which contain for the most part little but borrowed or stolen property”

Public sector spending is going to drop whichever party is in power. Let’s play to that.

By opening up public data the government will effectively be able to pass on some development costs to willing volunteers who mash up the data in their own ways. The difference is that people will do this to their own agendas and for their own benefit.

But more importantly, the results of this experimentation – if supported and encouraged – should produce work that makes it more efficient to interact with public data and therefore public bodies. If I can use a slider to find out which schools are within 3 miles, that saves 20 minutes of someone answering a phonecall in the local education department. If I can have a Facebook app which tells other users how much money alcohol abuse is costing my local hospital, it might save the NHS a bob or two. You get the picture. 

Oh yes, and it’s important for democracy, civic engagement and digital literacy

The limited data that’s available in the UK is an embarrassment. Imagine what MySociety could do with what’s available in the US.

Likewise, for all the talk of transparency, the recent announcement that Cabinet Papers and information relating to the Royal Family would be exempt from the Freedom of Information act is a backward step. Heather Brooke’s concerns proved right.

The cynic in me sees the appointment of Berners-Lee as an action intended to generate the illusion of movement – “We’re working on it”. But the Freedom of Information act is possibly the most positive contribution the Labour government has made to this country’s political health since it came to power, and not to follow through on promises made would be an enormous political mistake.

So I will add one request to my advice above: I would stress that any discussion of transparency acknowledges the importance of requiring any organisation using public funds to make their data public too. So much public work is outsourced to the private sector that it is particularly difficult to see whether public money is spent responsibly.

More at Podnosh, BBC, Emma Mulqueeny, Simon Dickson and Amused Cynicism.

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