In high school our English teacher taught us what he purported to be the basics of journalism: answer the questions "Who?" "What?" "When?" "Where?" "Why?" and "How?" Doing so, by observation or by interview of witnesses, will accomplish the goal of the reporter. This seemed simple enough to me at the time, and I have held on to these questions as the approach I expect from reporters, journalists, and interviewers I encounter in the media today.
However, I am becoming increasingly convinced that something else supplants these five questions for many of those reporting the news to us at present. In my experience journalists, reporters, and interviewers are asking the question, "Will you (the data, the interviewee, the witness) verify the answers I want for who, what, when, where, why, and how?" The distinction between this question and the ones I received in high school looks stark on this page, but in practice the nuance can be difficult to resolve. And so the exchange of one for the other can take place slowly and subtly. At last we find, if we are paying attention, that the six basic questions have been removed entirely from the field of view, and we are being offered only the attempts of one person to verify her or his notions.
Once in a while, however, the gap between what a reporter is doing and the basic calling of his or her profession appears with stunning clarity. I noticed one incidence of it two weeks ago in a radio interview.
The host interviewed an engineer who had worked on the Mars landing craft. The following exchange took place on the air. (Note well: I have placed these lines as if verbatim for the sake of illustration, but this is a paraphrase; the facts cited by the speakers are not relevant and are not transcribed.)
Host: Now, tell us about the transmitter on this piece of equipment. I understand that it's a lightweight piece of metal, very thin, with a long antenna that extends more than ten times the width of the transmitter. And because of its design it can receive signals from more than two million miles away. Isn't that correct?
Guest Engineer: That's correct.
Host: Fascinating. Now, how did the team come up with this design . . . .
Did you catch it? The question we heard from the host contained a fully-researched (or so we hope), well-detailed description of the answer it sought. The guest had nothing left to add. The interviewer--I'd like to say "unconsciously" or at least without recognition of the impact of this approach--replaced whatever answer the engineer might have given with his own response. How might the engineer's description have differed from the host's? Among other effects, this changes the journalist from being one who draws out information from witnesses or experts to one who tells the source what to say.
At worst--and at odds with the principal goal of the journalist--this puts the guest in the position of having to validate or refute the apparent expert testimony of the journalist.
Less stark examples arise with "leading questions." The several times I have watched snippets from Nancy Grace, to choose one exemplary show, I heard groups of questions whose framing expects a certain answer from the guest. At worst these questions turn out not to be questions at all but thinly-veiled summons for repentance, whether or not we (the viewers) might agree with the hostess' demand for it. The question often fits into the format of, "Why did you do this thing that you did when clearly it was wrong and our last guest said that anyone who engaged in such behavior is clearly an idiot?"
What do we expect the guest to say? What would we ourselves say when faced with a judge masquerading as a reporter? I found myself feeling sorry for the guest, which I'm sure is not one of the goals of investigative reporting.
Or is it?
My guess is that interviewers, reporters, and journalists who frame their questions in this manner are doing so not because they want to be Brutus to our Caesar. They do it, I am hypothesizing, because in its lust for "investigative reporting" the public has discovered a greater lust for judgmental reporting. We want to see every reporter get into it like Judge Judy gets into it with her plaintiffs and defendants. In short, we want blood. In a pinch, of course, sweat and tears will do; but we want someone to suffer for our entertainment.
But true reporters only report blood when they see it; they don't draw it for sale. Their only tool ought to be a microphone, not a black robe.
Who are the fools here? Wouldn't it be easy for me to say that we can blame the journalist professions for leading us astray? (Note my leading question there.) But if I did that, wouldn't I be hiding the fact that we still choose to watch them? (I'm still leading. Watch out.) So as not to play the fool, too, perhaps I should start asking some important questions of every interview I hear, article I read, and talk show I see.
Who in this conversation is guiding the answers being given?
What is the interviewer trying to get from the interviewee?
When do I hear the tone of a journalist's questions become anxious or combative?
Where does the expert disagree with the interpretation of the reporter?
Why did this journalist choose this person to interview or report?
How am I called to evaluate the information with which I have been presented?
~ emrys
