
The J-Word
When bloggers start to play at being journalists, readers have a right to expect the same standards of accuracy and fairness.
I don't spend a lot of time thinking of myself as a capital-J Journalist, the way I suppose some Doctors or Lawyers or others mentally clothe themselves in their professions. I tend to think of myself in more functional terms—writer, editor, newspaper delivery boy (yes, Desert Exposure remains very much a "mom and pop" operation). But then something happens to remind me that the tenets of my profession, too, are worth not only remembering but honoring. No lives depend on what journalists do—though the wounded veterans at Walter Reed Army Hospital, whose plight was recently spotlighted by the Washington Post, might disagree. People seldom go to jail because of our work—though the recent death of Watergate crook E. Howard Hunt reminds us that journalism can and does uncover lawbreaking. But reputations can be ruined by careless journalism, businesses unfairly stained, careers crippled. Even if it's only someone's feelings being hurt, if the story was inaccurate or unbalanced, the journalist at fault let down his or her profession and readers.
Some have hailed the rise of various forms of digital distribution of information and opinion—Web forums, blogs, email lists—as a healthy check on the arrogance of the mainstream media, and I suppose this can be true. Proponents praise blogs and other personal publishing via the Internet as ushering in a new era of independent voices, unfettered by the hidebound ways of Old Media. I suppose this can be true as well, though I can't help wondering who has time to read all these blogs and whether this audience—and the bloggers too—shouldn't perhaps get a life instead.
When people start to get their "facts" from blogs and email postings, however, when they begin to invest amateurs with the trust previously reserved for journalism professionals, suddenly those hidebound ways look pretty important. I know it sounds snooty to speak of "amateurs" and "professionals." Isn't anybody who can bang on a keyboard a "writer"? (Sure, and I'm pretty good with a carving knife and have always had a hankering to try heart surgery.)
The point isn't to inhibit anyone's creative expression or keep Joe Blogger from telling the world what he really thinks of the latest World of Warcraft. Rather, it's that if electronic instant journalists want to play the game, they have to abide by the same rules of fairness, even-handedness, transparency and, above all, accuracy. And when they critique mainstream media, bloggers had better be prepared to have themselves held to the same standards.
What do I mean by that? Here are a few lessons I've learned from (gasp!) nearly 30 years as a Journalist. I can't say I haven't occasionally slipped up on these, but at least I have the professional pride to feel rotten when I do. We try to follow these standards at Desert Exposure, and I like to think that during our tenure—this issue marks our fourth anniversary—we've done pretty well:
Come to think of it, yes, there are days when I'm pretty proud to be a Journalist. I may not save anybody's life or put a scofflaw in jail today, but by golly at least I'll get my facts straight and try to be fair in my reporting. For those who try to follow the same rules in the brave new world of blogs and such, I say, welcome aboard! As for the rest, well, maybe it's time to unplug.
Another tenet we try to abide by in these pages is that it's not all about us—Desert Exposure is here to serve you, the readers. While we welcome your ideas and feedback all year 'round, every April we especially invite you to tell us what you think and how we can make "The biggest little paper in the Southwest" even better. You'll find that invitation in the form of our annual reader survey on page A7 of the printed issue. You can also fill out the survey online—yes, some things the Internet is really useful for!—at www.desertexposure.com/survey. The poor souls who have to tabulate the paper surveys (that would be us, "mom and pop") particularly urge you to register your opinions electronically.
All of which reminds us that we would be remiss as we enter our fifth year of publishing Desert Exposure—and the publication's second decade overall—if we didn't once again thank you, the readers, for making us a part of your lives every month. We've been astonished and humbled by the reception you've given our stewardship of Desert Exposure—as evidenced by the fact that last issue was precisely double the page count of our first issue, in 2003.
Our readers and (let's not forget!) our advertisers, who make possible the issue you hold in your hands, are the real stars of Desert Exposure. We look forward to the opportunity to continue to serve you.
David A. Fryxell is the editor of Desert Exposure.