By Yuji Vincent B. Gonzales
IRRESPONSIBLE
journalism kills. And when it does, it does not only kill people’s dignity and
reputation, but also people themselves. It ruins not only names and integrity,
but also lives.
This is the
primary theme being underscored in Sydney Pollack’s 1981 film titled Absence of Malice—the ethical issues
concerning journalism and the gravity of damage that recklessness in the work
inflicts to innocent, ordinary individuals.
Megan Carter, a Miami Standard reporter who represents the population of terrible
journalists (also known as “disgrace to the profession”) in the world, wrote a
half-baked, immature front page story about the alleged association of liquor
warehouse owner Michael Gallagher to the disappearance of a local union leader
named Diaz.
Carter, who did not even bother to
verify the report she found on the desk of a mediocre FBI agent named Elliot
Rosen, gives a face to irresponsible journalism. Rosen knew in the first place
that Gallagher, whose father had ties with gangsters and mafias, is innocent.
He intentionally left the “secret” document about Gallagher “being under
investigation” on his table for Carter to see it, thinking that linking the
former to the Diaz case would force him to name names of the true suspects.
That is where the series of
intertwining unethical practices of Carter began. Putting aside Rosen’s
intention, stealing documents, especially those which are supposed to be
“sensitive” ones, is and will always be a misdeed and an act of dishonesty. What
made things worse was Carter did not check on the credibility, reliability, and
authenticity of the file. And worst, she also did not bother to exert
additional efforts to contact Gallagher and ask for his side on the matter
before publishing the story. Yes, she did try to call him once but he was not
able to answer, so her attempt also ended there.
In journalism, the discipline of verifying crucial
facts or statements (in the film’s case, one that has serious legal
implications) is a golden rule, and not abiding to such is considered a mortal
sin. Relying solely on unreliable, leaked information in writing a story is
very unprofessional. The two-source rule is important for a balanced and
objective output.
When Gallagher found out that he
made it to the paper’s banner headline, he immediately went to the daily’s
office, confronted Carter, and demanded her to disclose her “knowledgeable
source in the Justice Department.” Carter, however, refused to divulge her
source to Gallagher. As to the anonymity of sources, there is nothing wrong in
hiding their identity for the sake of privacy and protection. However, this
does not apply to Carter’s case because something was wrong in the process of
news gathering—the [leaked, unreliable] source was illegally obtained. Carter
was not really protecting her “knowledgeable source” but herself. She was
protecting her own credibility, and simultaneously, she was protecting herself
from shame and condemnation on the way she irresponsibly acquired information.
In legal terms, the phrase “absence
of malice” means the lack of evil intent to harm somebody. This is what Carter
and the publication’s lawyer was citing to counter argue Gallagher’s
accusations to them—that they have no willful motive to destroy Gallagher’s
reputation. However, the mere fact that Carter still wrote the story without
evidence and without asking for the subject’s side, there was an indirect and
unconscious intent to harm Gallagher somewhere along her selfish interests. She fashioned the story into that angle
despite her knowledge and awareness of journalists’ big role in shaping public
opinion. She may not be directly saying that Gallagher was the murderer, but
that was the implication of her story in one way or another. Yes, there was
probably an absence of malice, but there was also a negligence of a
journalist’s duty and conduct on the other side. The latter is as equally
tragic as having malice, or even worse than that. This just proves that no
matter how the law is intended for nation-building and social order, just because something is legal doesn’t mean
that it is morally right.
In addition, Carter secretly
recorded her conversation with Gallagher during their “lunch date” without
consent. Carter was also somehow involved in a romantic affair with Gallagher.
Although there is no concrete text in the rules of journalism saying that such
is prohibited, it is something implied and understood that having personal
attachment to sources is a big threat to credibility.
More than fracturing Gallagher’s
reputation, more than causing the liquor warehouse workers to resign, the
biggest casualty of Carter’s malpractice was the death of Teresa Perrone,
Gallagher’s childhood friend.
Perrone, in her desire to clear her
friend of all allegations to him, decided to meet up with Carter. She disclosed
to her that Gallagher accompanied her for abortion on the weekend that Diaz
disappeared, provided that her identity would not be revealed in the story.
However, Carter insisted, saying that “people would understand.” It turned out
that Carter is the one who did not understand the moral implications of her
actions. The following day, Perrone, a devout Catholic and a teacher in a
Catholic school, committed suicide after finding out that the story hit the
papers.
Carter took for granted her source
and overpowered her in a sense that she abused its fragility. She ignored and
disrespected Perrone’s request for confidentiality, resulting to a loss of life
over credibility.
Irresponsible
journalism kills. And when it does, it sometimes does it literally.
The
worst thing that can happen to a journalist is to lose his sense of purpose.
Journalists have tendencies to report or publish for the wrong reasons—for
scoop, competition, ambition, prestige, meeting quotas—not understanding that they are writing about their fellow human
beings, and what they write can make or break them. They do not realize the
immense power and influence of the press that is on their very hands; and when
they do, the damage has already been done. They are supposed to be bearers of
truth, but they are gradually becoming bearers
of “what is being said, what is perceived to be true, and what is simply
accurate.”
In their pursuit of stories to
publish and ambition to land on the front page, journalists quite forget that
their duty is not only to right but also to listen; that sometimes, they have
to put their pens down and take time to sympathize and empathize with their
subjects. They are being trapped and carried away by their wrong notion of “news”
and “public’s right to know.”
The moral case and ethical issues
are enough to justify journalists’ improprieties.
There
is a higher law than the law of man. And somewhere, a line has to be drawn.
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