The "moral values" voter has become a popular way of identifying a segment of the population that played a key role in the re-election of President Bush. But who are these people? What "moral values" do they hold? How do their values play out in their lives?
The term usually gets pinned on people who oppose same-sex marriage, abortion, and stem cell research. Reporters use such terms as evangelical, religious, Christian, and conservative to describe them. And often, journalists use these terms interchangeably. But what do they know about the topic? And what do they need to know?
We need to look behind the "moral values" label to address such questions. When we do, we will come across a host of descriptions. They show a spectrum of differences that get overlooked when we lump them under just one term.
But there are other voices that see other moral values at stake as well. And they claim the evangelical description, too. In fact, Tony Campolo, an American Baptist minister, professor of sociology and an evangelical says in a recent interview on the BeliefNet website that he believes "evangelical Christianity had been hijacked." That view prompted him to address the challenges faced by the evangelical movement in his new book, "Speaking My Mind." In the preface of his book, he writes:
There is a common perception among those outside our community of faith that we evangelicals are clones, and that when they have spoken with one of us, they have spoken with us all. Too often they see us as people who have a single way of thinking and talking ... To be credible, we must demonstrate that we are a body of individuals, each of whom can think for herself or himself.
Campolo, who considers poverty, war, and the environment among a number of moral issues evangelicals need to address, uses his book to explore and explain the controversial issues within the evangelical movement.
The search for a variety of voices is essential if journalists are to more accurately depict people who view morals as an important concern. The Associated Press included multiple views in a story that showed the political and religious tussle about the significant role moral values played.
Alan Cooperman at The Washington Post identifies other voices in a recent story that focused on "liberal Christian leaders," and a new poll on moral values. In this poll, almost twice as many voters cited "greed and materialism" and "poverty and economic justice" more often than abortion or same-sex marriage. Among those Cooperman interviewed were Jim Wallis, editor of Sojourners, and the Rev. Welton Gaddy, head of the Interfaith Alliance. Cooperman writes:
In a conference call with reporters to discuss the election and the new poll, Wallis and three other Christian leaders argued that many religious Americans do not fall neatly into liberal or conservative camps ... They contended that there is a vast religious middle, including "progressive evangelicals," "resurgent mainline Protestants" and "socially conservative African Americans," that could be attracted by biblically based "prophetic" appeals to make peace, fight poverty, and spread social justice.
The next step for journalists is to wade into the complexity of this "moral values" arena. Cover the full spectrum of people who see values as a critical component of their lives. Look beyond the labels. Visit their places of worship.
Look into the programs they say reflect their values. Offer fuller profiles showing how they live them out. And don't forget that many people who profess no religious affiliation also see moral values as an important element in their lives.
Learn from websites that focus on religion and the press, such as The Revealer, produced by New York University, GetReligion, created by two religion journalists (Terry Mattingly and Doug Le Blanc), and ReligionLink, sponsored by the Religion Newswriters Association.
If journalists manage to capture the diversity of this topic, they may help the public understand that moral values involve a way of life -- not just a label.
Aly Colón spent a day in 2002 as a consultant conducting writing sessions for Focus on the Family magazine and its online news staff.
Many journalists understand that their professional standards must remain above reproach. But what about what they do on their personal time? What impact might their personal activities have on their journalistic credibility?
That's where the rub comes in.
Some journalists believe a great divide exists between the personal and professional. That what they do on their own time remains a private matter. That they should be able to exercise the same liberties any citizen would. After all, journalists, like the public, have subjective feelings and opinions. They exist in the world -- not outside of it. And their personal orientation shouldn't affect their professional reputation.
In fact, some might argue for more transparency. Let the public know what journalists believe, what political party they belong to, or what their political views are. That would allow the public to judge what they read, see, and hear in a fuller context. It also may not. Editors with different political leanings could be editing a reporter's copy. So the report may then reflect multiple views.
Others worry that certain types of personal activity might send mixed messages to the public. Will the public consider off-duty involvements of some journalists as a guide to what their reporting biases may be? A number of journalists believe they may have to give up certain personal freedoms to ensure that their independence won't be questioned.
But how much personal freedom must journalists surrender? That remains a controversial conversation in newsrooms. Evidence of those differences emerged recently when The St. Paul Pioneer Press suspended two of its reporters for attending a concert. Pioneer Press Editor Vicki Gowler addressed the controversy in a column Sunday.
Gowler had informed the staff that attending the "Vote for Change" concert could be seen as a conflict of interest because the proceeds go to Democratic candidates. The reporters who went disagreed. Their union said it would seek arbitration regarding the suspension.
Some news organizations have explicit restrictions or ethics codes that prescribe what journalists may or may not do. Others leave such decisions to the journalist's individual discretion. With regard to the "Vote for Change" concert, Editor & Publisher reported that The Washington Post wouldn't allow any of its reporters to attend, while the Cleveland Plain Dealer didn't say its staff couldn't attend.
The concert serves as just one example of the many different personal/professional decisions that journalists may face during this political campaign and ones to follow. At Poynter, our principles seek to guide journalists in how they might think about such issues. Part of our independence principle encourages journalists to "remain free of associations and activities that may compromise your integrity or damage your credibility."
What does that mean? I believe it means we need to try to imagine what people would think if they witnessed us saying, or doing, something that would raise questions about how fair, impartial, and complete we can be in reporting the truth as fully as possible.
It may be helpful for journalists to put themselves in the place of their readers, listeners, viewers, or users and consider what their reaction might be if they saw themselves the way the public might.
Imagine, for example, what someone might think:
These are just some of the situations that journalists could find themselves addressing. I'm sure the answers to the questions may vary from one journalist to another.
The public's perception of us will vary as well. In part, it will depend on how well the public understands what journalists do and how they do it.
It also depends on how well journalists explain who they are and what they do. Seeing themselves through the public's eyes may help journalists realize how personal acts affect perceptions of their professional work.
Can a journalist be too truthful?
How much should the public know about what a journalist personally believes about what she or he reports on professionally?
These questions and more arose when Farnaz Fassihi, a Wall Street Journal reporter based in Baghdad, recently wrote the truth about Iraq as she saw it. It prompted some journalists to ask if doing so compromised her credibility. It caused others to wonder why Fassihi's account, which they consider truthful, should adversely affect her credibility.
Her candid and compelling account appeared in a personal e-mail to her friends that became public without her permission. It included what she had observed, what facts she knew, what she didn't know.
She also added a few of her own personal opinions. That's what raised questions for some journalists about how her reporting on Iraq might be viewed when it appeared from now on in the pages of the Wall Street Journal.
A number them began asking if she had revealed too much about her own perspective. Others wondered why anyone would read her account as anything other than an accurate rendering of what has been going on in Iraq.
Two competing principles intersect here. One involves the mandate to report the truth as fully as possible. The other deals with journalistic independence, which includes avoiding anything that might damage your credibility.
Fassihi definitely offered her unvarnished version of the truth when she told her friends about Iraq and the role the United States plays there. What some journalists are wondering is whether the opinions she included in her e-mail may make some readers question the fairness of her reporting about Iraq in the future.
I think it's important to stipulate a few things. What Fassihi wrote was a personal note, not a news report. She sent it out to people who know her, not to those who don't. And her opinions followed factual, and substantive information, drawn from thorough reporting, her extensive knowledge, and her firsthand experience. Also, much of what she wrote has been documented by other journalists and observers.
This merits mentioning because it shows this was not a personal opinion piece masquerading as a news story. It also indicates that she was not trying to influence the news process with her views.
Yet, the question lingers for some: Now that her views have received such widespread exposure, will readers wonder about her impartiality?
One simple way to address that would be to take her off that beat. (As it happens, she will be on a planned vacation that will run past the election, which had nothing to do with the e-mail, according to The Journal). By reassigning her, The Journal would keep the readers' attention on the paper's reporting, not on its reporter and her opinions.
But that's not the only alternative.
The Journal could keep her on the beat, explaining to readers what happened, and why it believed Fassihi could continue her reporting from Iraq in the same professional and impartial manner she has been doing. (In fact, Paul Steiger, The Journal's managing editor, did support Fassihi. He was quoted in the New York Post saying that Fassihi's opinions didn't adversely affect the fairness of her news reporting.)
Informing readers about how the newspaper works at protecting the integrity of its reporting may have helped address questions about Fassihi's reporting. Sharing the journalistic process common to most newsrooms might help readers understand the steps news operations take to maintain their credibility.
The paper could explain that, unlike an e-mail sent directly from the writer to the reader, the reporting done by journalists such as Fassihi must make its way through a phalanx of editors. Those editors work with the reporter to ensure the coverage meets standards of fairness, completeness, and accuracy that reflect the professionalism they all bring to the news product.
Now let's get back to the questions posed earlier.
Can a journalist be too truthful? Maybe the answer has to do not only with how much truth a journalist conveys, but how the journalist conveys it. Is it clear where the journalist is getting the information and how the reporting supports it? If there are questions regarding the credibility of the reporting, what disclosures or explanations are offered to address those questions?
How much should the public know about what a journalist personally believes about what she or he reports on professionally? What a reporter believes, or doesn't believe, matters less than how the reporting is supported by relevant facts, observations, and the other voices included in the story. And the more the public understands about the process involved in gathering and reporting the story, the better position it will be in to evaluate how credible the reporting appears to them. And if a reporter's personal views become known, the news organization needs to explain how, and what it does, to mitigate the appearance of bias and prejudice.
What are the boundaries that exist for a journalist when it comes to professional and personal communications? I don't know. Tim Rutten raises that issue in a piece he did for the Los Angeles Times. Journalists need to remember that whatever they say privately may have public consequences. I don't think that precludes journalists from having opinions. It just means they must remain alert to how those opinions may affect the way people view their reporting. It benefits them to weigh the benefits, and disadvantages, of what they communicate personally.
Interestingly enough, some readers may have found Fassihi's e-mail account even more credible than some mainstream reporting because it bears the marks of personal sincerity as opposed to a more formal and impersonal documentation found in many news reports.
Ultimately, the credibility we have as journalists may depend not on what we believe personally, but on how we act professionally. And how we act professionally needs to be explained in a way that helps the public understand how we bring them the best, and fairest, journalism we humanly can.
An ethical framework can slow the charge, helping reporters, editors, producers and news directors, better anticipate the weaknesses -- as well as the value -- in stories certain to draw press and public scrutiny.
Drawing upon Poynter's Guiding Principles and 10 Questions developed by Bob Steele, here is a list of some steps journalists can take to help them pursue controversial stories in an ethical way.
Before you publish or air the story:
Although many journalists profess a hatred for math, they love using numbers as a hook.
The military death totals in Iraq became the latest example of that attraction. On September 7, news organizations reported that the number had reached 1,000. It has climbed since then. That number prompted a number of stories.
The Washington Post labeled it a "milestone." A story in The New York Times referred to it as a "sober milestone." The Los Angeles Times painted it as a "grim milestone." Reuters reported the total as a "politically sensitive benchmark." I heard a Fox News television report calling the U.S. casualties "a terrible milestone."
A milestone is defined as "an important event…in the history of a nation,… a turning point." A benchmark represents "a standard by which something can be measured or judged."
But how do we determine the importance of such an event? What number constitutes a turning point? What's the standard?
An email from Michael Stanton to Romenesko prior to the death toll reaching 1,000 presaged such questions and sought advice about how best to approach them. Stanton asked: "Do people believe that this is the kind of "milestone" that is significant to the readership in terms of helping them come to terms with the scope of the nation's involvement in Iraq, or should the 1,000th death not be treated any differently than those that came before?"
I agree that focusing on that number, or any number, can be challenging. Stanton posed good questions to ask before the "event" happened. They still serve as valuable questions that journalist can consider as casualties mount and other "milestones" emerge.
Numbers do tell us something. But what?
As I read various news websites' notation of how the 1,000 deaths constituted a milestone, I began looking for clues as to why this number was significant enough to attract the attention of news people and to dedicate prominent space to it. I tried to figure out why the number 1,000 stood out.
A number of the stories I read didn't make that clear. Some simply reported the number. Others noted the political sensitivity to that number, noting that Senator John Kerry had referred to the number and the divisiveness it might provoke.
But why was the number 1,000 more important than any other number, say 700, or 825, or 910?
For example, a political furor erupted briefly last April when ABC's "Nightline," anchored by Ted Koppel, aired a special report that planned to name the 500 troops who had died in combat in the Iraq War. Then Nightline decided to add another 200 who died in non-combat situations. The controversy prompted Poynter's Al Tompkins to interview Koppel for more understanding about "Nightline's" coverage.
Obviously, there's something attractive about large, round numbers, especially if they include many zeroes. Yet, how do news consumers sort out the value of such numbers? And this includes how journalists report other numbers as well: Unemployment rates, job growth figures, inflation rates, sales and profit numbers, etc. We need to offer the number and the story beneath it.
With regard to the U.S. military deaths in Iraq, I asked Poynter librarian David Shedden to help me with an historical comparison of U.S. military deaths in other conflicts. He found an Associated Press report that noted the following:
Now those numbers alone don't tell the whole story either. They also don't tell us the number of military deaths suffered by the other countries involved in the conflict. But at least they offer one standard of comparison. The duration of time in which the deaths take place offers another context. A number of other stories made efforts to flesh out the numbers.
In The New York Times story noted earlier, reporter Monica Davey put the death toll in some perspective. Davey used the number of deaths to provide information about those affected in a variety of categories: Age, geography, race, ethnicity, branch of service, cause of death, rank, and gender. She also found people who helped humanize the numbers.
Associated Press reporters Sharon Cohen and Pauline Arrillaga wrote a piece that tried to answer the question posed in the subhead: "What does it mean that 1,000 Americans have died?" They compared the death toll to other wars, noted where those who died came from, including those born in foreign countries. In addition to other breakdowns, they showed the impact the deaths had on certain communities.
As journalists, we report numbers only as one dimension of the journalistic process. More work must follow. Our journalism improves when we:
When we do journalism by the numbers, we need to offer not just the count, but the context.
The Swift boat coverage reflects the heat-seeking political journalism that is so prevalent today.
It contains all the elements we find in such stories:
With the Republican National Convention beginning next week, maybe we can learn from the Swift boat controversy that exploded following the Democratic National Convention.
Instead of addressing such controversies by simply seeking commentary from competing camps, journalists might consider asking questions that illuminate, rather than just ignite, an issue.
When the political accusations/allegations begin flying, here are some of questions journalists might use to increase the public's understanding of what they mean:
Commentary and feedback on the Swift boat coverage:Campaign Desk By CJR Reporting Unprovable Allegations in an Election Year By Jeffrey Dvorkin, NPR Swift boat attention creating confusion By David Folkenflik, The Baltimore SunEditors Grapple with How to Cover Swift Boat Controversy By Joe Strupp, Editor & Publisher Swift Boat Story a Sad Chord By Jay Rosen, New York UniversityComprehensive stories on the controversy:The Washington Post The New York TimesFirst person account:'This is What I Saw That Day', By William Rood of the Chicago Tribune
Such an approach promises to devalue what we do and how we do it. If we want to ensure our credibility in the midst of the controversy, here are some things to remember:
To play with a popular line, the race is not always to the swift but to those secure and sure of what they have to offer.
I stared at the line that appeared on one news channel after another, tracing the predicted path of Hurricane Charley. The red, curving line -- filled with spinning circles -- led right up to Tampa Bay, Fla., where I live. The news I watched, heard, and read prior to Hurricane Charley's arrival mattered; it factored into decisions I would make with my family that might spell deliverance or disaster.Anyone facing the possibility of a life-threatening event, such as a hurricane, a tornado, or even an act of terrorism, depends on the news media for information. We, like others in similar situations, face serious questions: What should we do? Where should we go? How soon should we act? How the news media responds to such questions may help or hinder us.
I watched the local news media throw itself completely into the coverage of a local hurricane threat unlike any other in years. Local news directors and editors dispatched crews everywhere they thought would yield information people might need. I felt grateful for every fact that clarified what was happening. I shuddered each time I heard pronouncements that made possibilities seem like indisputable facts. I felt overwhelmed when the information flowed indiscriminately, without any other purpose than to pass it on.
More coverage is good. More thoughtful coverage is better. A return to fundamental reporting, which includes ethics as a critical component, becomes imperative.I valued the substantive reports that told me what knowledgeable sources, government officials, and hurricane experts had to say. I wondered when some news people spoke with authority about what would happen and what people should do. How did they know this? What were they basing it on?
For example, I heard a number of reports that the hurricane was definitely headed our way. We needed to evacuate. While I valued the information, I felt more confident about it when the reporter attributed it to a source. Some did. Some did not. I imagine that to save time some reporters simply relayed the information directly without wasting time on attribution. But that attribution helps the news consumer evaluate how reliable the information is.
I sensed sameness in the coverage. Reports seemed to agree with each other. This made the information, and the latest technological tools used to track the storm, seem even more solid. Reporters did not always remind us that nothing was certain. The tone seemed authoritative. But I wondered if there were different, or contrary, views?
The uncertainty,unpredictability of the event sometimes seemed de-emphasized. The Washington Post, for example, published a piece after the hurricane hit that explained tracking paths is more accurate than it used to be, but not perfect. Had we been aware of the limitations, we might have made different decisions, as indeed some of those south of us may wish they had.
Our reporting has implications for the public, whether the news involves a hurricane, tornado, flood, severe storm, or terror alert. To handle that reality responsibly, consider using ethical guidelines and questions as part of the reporting process. Think about:
If you have other suggestions, please share them. The coverage of such events taxes journalists, as well as the public. We need the confidence to share what we know, what we don't know, and what we need to know. Then we can report that so the public feels alerted, not just alarmed.The hurricane hit south of us, ravaging the coastal and inland communities in its path. While we were spared, others suffered. The coverage of the disaster continues. For those who thought the hurricane would hit their communities, and for those who experienced it, the hunger for information has not abated.
With the Democratic National Convention behind us, the Republican National Convention ahead of us, and the coverage of political races all around us, I hear a journalistic variation of Simon & Garfunkel's "Sounds of Silence" playing in my head.
Sing along to my version:
Hello politics, my old friendI've come to cover you againBecause a coverage loudly screamingLeft its stories while I was watchingAnd the journalism that was planted in my brainStill remainsOutside the sound of silence …And in the naked camera eye I sawTen thousand journalists, maybe moreJournalists talking without ceasing Journalists pontificating without reporting Journalists presenting stories that they want to shareAnd all of them dared to disturb the sound of silence
My reworking of the lyrics may seem an odd way to examine ethics and political coverage. Even the idea of silent journalists sounds like an oxymoron. After all, regardless of the platform, we see ourselves as part of a mass medium. We channel voices into community -- and countrywide --conversations.
How can silence serve that mission?
I wondered that myself. And I continued pondering it because Sheila Colón, my wife, decided to use me as a proxy for the news media and vent her displeasure about the coverage she witnessed.
She kept asking me why the network news operations offered so little coverage of the convention. And, in a more frustrated tone, why the cable news networks that did provide coverage told too much and showed too little.
I initially attempted to offer a variety of possible explanations. First of all, ABC, CBS, and NBC no longer exist solely as news companies. Instead, they are subsidiaries within larger, commercial enterprises with interests beyond journalism. Or maybe they felt that the need for more complete coverage seemed less imperative since there was no news as to who the nominees would be.
Besides, I tried arguing, viewers could turn to the cable news channels, which offered more coverage. Finally, for those who simply wanted to watch and listen to a news version of cinema vérité, they can turn to C-SPAN.
Sights from the Convention
Al's Convention Meeting
And she's not alone in that desire. Other people we know said the same thing to her and to me. The day after Sheila expressed her views, I turned to Poynter Online's STUMP, where published comments by multimedia editor Larry Larsen and Institute president Karen Dunlap bemoaned what I refer to as "journalistic interruptus." Even politicians and media critics voiced their frustration in a recent USA Today piece.
So what can we learn from this?
That silence works. Not the silence that stills the public's voice. But the silence that strategically, and wisely, occurs when we, as journalists, get out of the way of the story.
While I've been focusing on the television coverage, I believe the public also wants journalists to mute their own voices more often when it comes to relaying the news on radio, in newspapers, and online. And then amplify and expand the voices of those participating in the political process from voters to campaign workers to candidates.
Don't misunderstand me. I value the analysis, interpretation, and opinion that journalists can offer on political events. I just think it may help to make it clearer to the public when, and where, coverage rather than commentary is taking place. And to focus more on the former and maybe slightly less on the latter.
While news consumers have many more choices to turn to for coverage, including political weblogs, they also yearn for opportunities to see (literally and through their reading) what's going on as completely as possible.
Some important questions to consider when it comes to the journalist's role in such political coverage: When does it make sense to get out of the way? And do viewers understand when we've shifted from news to commentary?
We need to think about how we're answering those questions so we can offer the public more transparency about what we're doing and why.
For those of us eager to tell others what to think (and I include myself in that category), we need to remind ourselves that people also want to come to their own conclusions. They need us to be their eyes and ears, not just another mouthpiece.
My colleague, Chip Scanlan, offers a number of fascinating books we can enjoy in a recent column, which I've printed and plan to use.
I thought about making a similar reading list for books about ethics. Then I thought again. (Please stifle your sigh of shock and relief. Contrary to the stereotype, even those of us who care about ethics like to have fun.)
After all, summer speaks to me of sun, fun, and puns. I'll spare you the puns. But in the fun category, movies offer escape from the heat, and an entertaining way to watch journalistic ethical issues unfold.
Dr. Ink turned to Poynter librarian David Shedden for a list of movies back in 2001 when he answered a question about his favorite movie about journalism. His answer? "The Year of Living Dangerously," 1982. I consider it a fascinating picture as well, fraught with ethical subtexts. I drew upon that list, too. And I want to thank David Shedden for his help once again.
So what are some movies that go well with buttered popcorn and salty ethics?
"Absence of Malice," which came out in 1982, still stands out as a popular movie that shows the ethical shortcomings the media faces when it comes to relationships with sources and investigative reporting. Written by a former executive editor of the Detroit Free Press, the screenplay brings a feeling of authenticity to the time and the journalism portrayed.
"The Front Page," a classic that graced the silver screen in 1931 (Ran as a TV series in 1945, 1948, 1949, 1970, then was remade as a film in 1974), captured another age and angst. See "The Paper," 1994, for a more modern take on the challenges journalists face. Don't miss the pressroom scene for the physical force that ethics can require.
Another classic, "Citizen Kane," which premiered in 1941, offers a full range of ethical, and unethical, entanglements that seem as pertinent today as when it first came out.
On the broadcast front, the battle between business and journalism values takes fascinating twists and turns in such favorites as "Network" (from 1976), "Broadcast News," (from 1987), and "The Insider" (1999).
Below, I provide an incomplete list of movie titles, along with short comments from me, that you can consider checking out of your local video store for your entertainment and ethical enjoyment.
Feel free to post your favorite titles of movies about journalism that raise ethical quandaries. And enjoy the summer.
I want my name spelled right. People usually do. Especially when their name appears in a newspaper. A long time ago, way back in the 20th century, I remember a comment that went something like this: I don't care what you write about me so long as you spell my name right.
In fact, I believe spelling someone's name right has ethical implications. After all, a fundamental element of ethical journalism involves accuracy. Misspelling someone's name results in an inaccuracy. Therefore, a newspaper that knowingly misspells someone's name publishes inaccuracy and might be viewed as unethical.
Simple enough, right? Well, maybe not as simple as it might seem. At least not when it comes to my name, or others like it. You see, my last name requires an acute accent mark in order to spell it correctly.
Notice the short slash over the second "o." It's also called a diacritical mark. Without that mark, I become a punctuation mark, or a part of the intestine: a colon. Not only is that an inaccurate spelling, some might even wrinkle their noses at it, no matter what Shakespeare says about "a rose by any other name..."
Besides, it is my name. And as Allan Siegal, an editor at The New York Times, e-mailed me when I inadvertently misspelled his last name: "It is a poor thing, but mine own."
The fact is that names matter. Spelling words correctly matters.
So what prompts me to raise this issue now? After all, I've been fighting this spelling/accuracy battle with my name all my life. Whenever, and wherever, I could, I tried to make sure my byline had the acute accent mark over the second "o."
A reporter in similar circumstances asked my advice recently and rekindled my interest in the topic. On one level, it's a relatively simple matter -- a simple mark above a letter in a name. In fact, it's an issue with many dimensions: ethics, diversity, accuracy, technology, consistency, and tradition.In pursuit of answers, I turned first to a couple of wordsmiths I've consulted before: Norm Goldstein, the Associated Press' stylebook editor, and John McIntyre, the AME of the copy desk at The Sun in Baltimore and president of the American Copy Editors Society.
I asked both of them about the use of accent marks, and other diacritical marks such as the tilde, umlaut, etc., as well as their views of the standards governing their use. McIntyre's response came swiftly and succinctly: "It's a mess." He explained in a phone interview that the use of accent marks presents a number of challenges. They include the transmission of such marks by wire services, their display by various newsroom computer systems, and the special handling they require from already over-burdened copy desks. Using accent marks also represents change, an unwelcome force in most institutions, including newsrooms. "People in the newsroom are remarkably resistant to change," he said. "The way we deal with accent marks would generate even more resistance. Their attitude is: 'We don't like change and we won't make an exception for you.'"
Goldstein e-mailed me that the AP doesn't use diacritical marks on its general wires, although some of its world wires do, especially in Latin America.
"We do not use accent marks because they cause garbled copy in some newspaper computers. (We categorize them as "nontransmitting symbols.)," he wrote in his initial e-mail to me.
The New York Times stylebook, he added, notes that "accent marks are used for French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and German words and names." He said that "Times style calls for six marks: the acute accent, the grave accent, the circumflex, the cedilla, the tilde, and the umlaut."
He also referred to an article by Jesse Wegman, who wrote about diacritical marks for Copy Editor, with the headline "Accent on Diacritics." The story, he noted, surveyed copy editors and found "one thing above all: copy editors spend a surprising amount of time thinking about diacritical marks, because there is no single generally accepted standard for their use."
Bill Walsh, author of the book "Lapsing into a Comma: A Curmudgeon's Guide to the Many Things That Can Go Wrong in Print — and How to Avoid Them," and a copy editor on the national desk of The Washington Post, responded to my query about this issue by e-mailing me that "any newspaper that tries to use accent marks dooms itself to inconsistency, unless it uses no wire copy."
He argues that since wire services don't use such symbols, copy editors would need to track down every name that might use one and ask if it's required. "Obviously, that's impossible," he wrote.
"The counterpoint is that we should at least do our best to be correct where possible," he added. "But I don't consider this a matter of correctness. English isn't a language of diacriticals, and we're writing in English."
Walsh points out that this represents his personal view and that The Washington Post does use some diacritical marks. If the paper can verify a name needs a tilde, it uses it. But that's because it has been argued, he wrote, that the tilde, an ñ and the n, are different letters in Spanish. "...To omit the tilde is a misspelling — a more serious error than the omission of an acute or grave accent mark," he wrote.
Obviously, I don't agree that it's a less serious error. But then I do have a personal bias in this case, as I think anyone would who would want his or her name spelled correctly. I do, however, empathize with the concerns outlined by Walsh and other copy editors. As the newspaper's gatekeepers of the language, and the accuracy of the copy, they take their roles seriously. And they should.
Clark P. Stevens, Senior Editor for Copy Desks at the Los Angeles Times, expressed similar concerns and also recognized the personal element associated with this issue. "The most troubling aspect (with regard to accent marks) gets down to names. Because names are considered so sacred," he said during a phone interview.
He added that some people might not even know whether their name requires an accent mark, and that many Latinos might not even use them here. "I suspect as we (go) down the line we will probably make some compromise measure to probably put marks on all proper names, but I'm not sure we would do that," Stevens said.
The consistency factor bothers Stevens, as it does the other copy editors I contacted. In fact, when Stevens checked out Poynter Online he found that while an accent mark appears in my byline, my name does not consistently include the accent elsewhere on the site. Was it a style issue? Confusion? Computer driven?
"Is it inconsequential? Does it mis-serve you or, more important, readers?" he wrote to me in an e-mail trying to elaborate on the struggles copy editors face with this issue.
Again, I appreciate the complexity involved with this quixotic venture I'm on. But maybe that's only natural since my great-grandparents came from the same country where writer Miguel de Cervantes sent Don Quixote (Quijote in Spanish) out to tilt with windmills. (And if my high school honors Spanish teacher is reading this, he might e-mail me how much he had to challenge me to get the accent marks in the right place.)
So let me suggest this: If someone asks that his or her name be spelled correctly -- and that means using a diacritical mark that can be verified -- then use it.
Walsh, in "Lapsing Into a Comma," addresses another language issue: the use of the word, gay. "Yes, the appropriation of gay by homosexuals did rob us of a perfectly good synonym for happy," he writes. "But the latter usage — and, frankly, this complaint is getting rather tired. The new usage? It's here. It's queer. Get used to it."
I'd like to use that same argument with regard to accent marks. Those of us with such names are here. Get used to us.
In a follow-up e-mail, Goldstein at AP noted that: "My own feeling is that use of accent marks will increase -- but slowly –- among all publications, including the dailies, as (1) technology eliminates the physical difficulty (there are no keys on my keyboard for many standard accent marks); and (2) the language continues to absorb international words and they become more familiar to the mainstream."
And finally, this topic sent me to review "The Story of English" by Robert McCrum, William Cran, and Robert MacNeil. The book shows how English has been an evolving language that has welcomed the immigration of new words the way this country has welcomed (or tried to welcome) new immigrants.
The book includes something written by H.L. Mencken, in "The American Language," in 1919, that all of us who care about language may want to remember:
"A living language is like a man suffering incessantly from small haemorrhages, and what it needs above all else is constant transactions of new blood from other tongues. The day the gates go up, the day it begins to die."
Imagine this: You're a journalist, attending a business reception to interview someone. On your way in, you drop your business card into a bowl filled with other cards.
Later, someone reaches into the bowl. He draws out your card and calls out your name. You've won first-class airline tickets, with such amenities as massages and an open bar. Total worth? About $20,000.
What would you do?
Debra J. Saunders, a columnist at the San Francisco Chronicle, recently faced what you just imagined. She was at a reception hosted by the British Consul during a bioethics trade show.
What did she do? She declined the prize on the spot. When I called her this week to talk to her about her decision, the first thing she wanted me to know was that she did the wrong thing.
"It was my mistake, I shouldn't have done it," Saunders said.
What she shouldn't have done, she stressed, was put her name in the bowl in the first place. "It was a stupid thing to do," she added.
When she arrived, she initially thought the bowl of cards might be the host's way of compiling an e-mail list for people who wanted information. But after she dropped her card into the bowl, she realized it involved a drawing.
"Once I did it, I knew I was going to win," Saunders said, adding she hasn't had that feeling before, nor has she won any such drawings before. She also knew something else: "I couldn't accept it."
Her decision surprised others at the reception. "The British bigwig practically fainted, telling the crowd, 'A journalist with ethics? Incredible,'" reported Chronicle columnists Phillip Matier and Andrew Ross as an item in their June 13 column.
She emphasized that the decision was one she made for herself. She wasn't trying to make a statement about what someone else should have done. "I'm comfortable with what I did. I think a lot of people would have done it. A lot of people wouldn't," she said.
She didn't enjoy turning down the prize. In fact, she can't remember what happened during the next 60 seconds after declining it. She had to ask who won the prize when the drawing was done again. The fact is she loves to travel. But she values her integrity more.
"I know it would have looked bad," she said. "People would think it was a quid pro quo. It would undermine my moral authority." And diminish her credibility, she added.
Even though the prize came from Virgin Airlines, and not from those hosting the biotech conference, she thought the airline might open a San Francisco office. She might end up writing about the company. And she said she doesn't know how to accept things from other people and not feel grateful.
For Saunders, the prize presented a conflict-of-interest. She describes herself as a conservative who writes an opinion column. She tells others what she believes is right and wrong. What she requires of others, she said, she must apply to herself.
"Writing a column made me a more moral person," Saunders said. "When you talk about how others should do things, you need to look at yourself. I know people who do those things (they tell others not to do). But I don't respect them."
She also thought it was possible her newspaper wouldn't let her accept the prize, so she considered it smart to say no in advance.
John Diaz, editorial page editor for the Chronicle, said Saunders did the right thing. It would have been out of bounds for her to accept it -- no matter what the amount, he added. The Chronicle has an ethics policy, and under headline of "No freebies," Diaz read me the following: "No staff member may accept free or reduced rate transportation, gifts, or junkets from current or potential news sources, including government agencies, or the government or agency of another country."For Saunders, the prize presented a conflict-of-interest. She describes herself as a conservative who writes an opinion column. She tells others what she believes is right and wrong. Wh
