Journalists and the people they interview: The individual contract and the social contract

I get to see it from both sides.

This was bugging me so I wrote a long post; see below. I think it’s important. A comment thread is here.

1. Why do journalists interview people? Why do people agreed to be interviewed by journalists?

The implicit individual contract is that each side gets something: the journalist gets material, some contribution to an interesting story, and the person interviewed gets to tell his or her story.

But that’s not the whole thing. Journalism isn’t just a way of making money (or, perhaps, of being a loss leader for some other business); it’s also a public trust. I’m not saying there’s something amazing about journalism; lots of jobs are public trusts, including doctors, nurses, teachers, police officers, bus drivers, farmers, etc. We’re all making a living here, but we’re also doing our part to help our civilization run smoothly.

So there’s also an implicit social contract: journalists uncover and share important news (they “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable”), and the rest of us donate our time to help them out.

In my own professional life, I spend lots of time doing research, teaching, and writing, but I also sometimes act in a journalistic role, and other times I help out journalists. I think that when I act as a journalist, I follow these implicit contracts–at least, I try!–but in my experience as a source, sometimes it feels that the news organizations are not holding up their side of the bargain.

2. Agreement or controversy, but no room for uncertainty

A few years ago I was contacted by a newspaper regarding the claim by a couple of economists that mortality rates among middle-aged white people was increasing.

I’d found a problem with the economists’ published paper–they hadn’t done sufficient age adjustment, and it turned out that after adjusting for age, the mortality rate in this demographic category was increasing for women but decreasing for men–and so this was worth correcting.

At the same time, this group’s mortality rate, even if not increasing, was still not decreasing in the way that it was in many other rich countries, and so the economists’ general point–that we should be concerned about this trend–was still largely valid.

And here was the problem. If I wanted to chime in and agree with that published paper, that would’ve been fine. Or if I wanted to “debunk” it, that would’ve been newsworthy too. But for me to say: Yeah, their general point is right but, no, mortality rates among men in that group were not actually increasing . . . Nah, that’s too subtle.

What the journalists wanted was either a clean story in which those economists were heroes, or a juicy dispute between two warring factions of academics. My half-assed intermediate position just didn’t work for them.

I felt that, by soliciting and gaining my sincere efforts and then discarding what I had to say, the reporter was violating the individual and social contract.

It would be as if someone asked you to donate something to a bake sale for their good cause, and you offered to bake a banana bread, and they said that would be great and you should leave it at a certain spot, and then they never came to pick it up and the bread went stale. They’re under no obligation to serve your bread, but it’s abusive of your goodwill for them to ask for something they’re not going to use. I think that’s sometimes how people feel about small-dollar campaign contributions, when it doesn’t seem that the candidate spent the money efficiently: the money meant something to you but apparently nothing to them.

Another time I was angry at about some shady journalists who pretended to be associated with MIT. In that case, my take on the matter did not fit into the simplistic story they wanted to tell about scientific heroes and villains. Again, no reason they had to agree with my take; what I didn’t like was that they misrepresented the facts. But journalism is all about storytelling, right?

A few weeks ago I was contacted by a major news organization about a story they were running–they wanted my take as a statistician on the matter, as they’d seen a post of mine on the topic in question. I said sure, I’d be happy to talk with them. They followed up with some questions and I responded with a message expressing my uncertainty.

And then . . . crickets!

I sent a couple followup emails to see what was up, and the producer didn’t respond. I had the horrible feeling that they didn’t want me on the show because whatever I would say wouldn’t fit their predetermined storyline. Indeed, my annoyance at that was one reason for writing the present post. I felt . . . exploited, almost: I’d given them my trust and then when I didn’t act like an authoritative expert, they decided they didn’t need me.

But then, after I started writing this post but fortunately before I posted it, they got back to me! They were just super busy. OK, super busy is annoying too, but, no, it’s not at all true that they only wanted me to tell them what they already wanted to hear. Indeed, in this case I was arguably putting their responses into my preconceived storyline! So, a good cautionary tale.

4. Which journalists should we trust to tell our stories to?

Coincidentally, while I was in the middle of writing this post (in which I’m acting both as source in telling my story and as journalist in shaping it for you), I happened to listen to an episode of the 404 Media podcast where Jason Koebler of 404 was interviewing independent journalist Marisa Kabas. One thing that came up in the interview was that, when it came to sharing stories about tech and the government, many of their sources were much more comfortable talking with independent media such as Kabas and 404 than with major news organizations such as the New York Times and the Washington Post.

Now, I have nothing bad to say about the Times or the Post. Or, to be precise, I do have complaints (see here and here), but these are large organizations, and every large organization has its serious flaws, even my own employer!

The question here isn’t whether the Post or the Times are good institutions; the question here is: If you have a story to tell, would you rather tell it to Kabas or 404, or would you rather tell it to some random reporter from one of these major news organizations? (OK, I guess the Post is now a minor news organization, but you get the point.)

Kabas and Koebler said that lots of people in the trenches would trust them more. And so would I. If I wanted to tell some story about bad things going on in my workplace, or in my corner of academia or business, I’d trust Kabas or 404 more than I’d trust someone from a major news organization.

What’s going on here? How can this be?

I’ve read enough from 404 Media to have a sense that they have integrity, will report their stories seriously, and that they’re not tied to simplistic storylines. In contrast, my impression of major news organizations have been a mix of good and bad. I’m sure that NPR has lots of wonderful reporters, but they also emit a continuing stream of junk-science hype. As to newspaper/magazine/radio/TV reporters: they’re almost always under the gun, in so much pressure to finish their piece that I’ll often find myself giving them tons of background material that they never use.

And then there’s the push toward simple storytelling, which I noted in part 2 of this post above.

There’s also a selection effect. I think I’d have more confidence telling my story to a random NYT reporter than to a random blogger on the internet! So in some sense it’s not so fair to compare 404 Media to the New York Times. It would make more sense to compare 404 Media to some small set of Times reporters who I respect a lot.

And when you get contacted by someone you’ve never heard of, like those fake MIT journalists, be careful!

5. When do the news media show respect to the people who share their stories?

Another thing that came up in that 404 interview was the idea that these particular independent journalists take the stories they’re writing seriously. It’s not all a big joke to them, and they respect the people who share their stories.

That sounds obvious, but in my experience with major media, I don’t always see it. As noted above, sometimes reporters got my cooperation but then withdraw when I don’t want to tell the story their way. Or, more generally, they can be fishing for a quote that will slot into their set narrative. They don’t want my story at all, which in some way is fine–they have every right to report the news however they want–but when they do this, they’re exploiting me and others who are giving them our time and our stories for free. They’re violating the individual contract, and they’re violating the social contract. (That said, often I’ve had excellent experience from journalists in the organized news media, such as with Stephanie Lee, formerly of BuzzFeed and now at the Chronicle of Higher Education, who have openness and who are really listening to what people tell them.)

Another example of the problem of the news media not showing respect, this time not involving me in any way, is discussed in this article by Jessica Olin about Amanda Knox, that young woman who was imprisoned in Italy for four years for a murder that it seems she never committed. The relevance to the present post is this passage, reporting reactions to a book that Knox wrote after being released from prison and returning to the United States:

In the New Yorker, Mark Singer dutifully explained why she had been acquitted but warned that ‘if she now elects to exploit and cash in on her celebrity, it will prove that she hasn’t learned much worth emulating.’ On the LRB blog, Lidija Haas predicted that ‘few will want to read’ the book.

Writers employed arch language – the killing was described as the result of a ‘sex escapade’ and ‘high jinks’ – and framed events as though they were fictional. The playwright John Guare, who called Knox ‘my kind of murderess’, wondered whether she was a heroine in the mould of ‘Daisy Miller, an innocent young girl who goes to Europe for experience? Or is she Louise Brooks, the woman who takes what she wants and destroys everything? Or is she Nancy Drew caught up in Kafka?’ Nathaniel Rich wrote in Rolling Stone: ‘One might expect that the lead role in this blockbuster would be assigned to the victim,’ but ‘the show was stolen by an accidental ingénue.’ . . . In the New York Times, Sam Tanenhaus was dismissive of Knox’s ‘well-orchestrated round of TV appearances’ . . .

And this wasn’t the tabloid press; it was prestige journalism. Now I’m not saying that these writers had an obligation to take Knox’s side, or that her status as a wrongly-imprisoned person should make her writing or her life immune from criticism. Rather, I’m agreeing with Olin that there’s something disturbing in how these writers were treating Knox as a character, not as a person.

6. When I’m acting as a journalist

People send me tips all the time, and sometimes I look into these and blog them. I have to be careful–sometimes I’ll get an email about some purported scandal but it’s not something that seems bothersome at all, but often it really is a thing. Often the things I end up writing about involve malfeasance by highly placed academics at Cornell, Nevada, California, USC, Harvard and Stanford, Freakonomics, etc etc. I don’t do lots of reporting–usually I’m commenting on public documents–but I do get all these tips, often from people who want to remain anonymous, and I’m pretty careful about showing respect to the people who send me things. I can see why they would trust me more than a news organization that will already want to slot their story into some preconceived pattern.

7. Our parasocial relationships

The term “parasocial” has been used to describe the way in which ordinary people can almost feel that they personally understand how some celebrity is thinking. There is fannish behavior (not always so horrible; I don’t mind signing books for people) and sometimes the corresponding disappointment if someone does something disappointing (I guess that’s how some Larry David fans felt after he was shilling crypto).

Many journalists have a personal style, and that goes extra for people who write in the blog format. I’ve given you 20 years of myself, a bit every day, indeed I’d be disappointed if you didn’t have some sense of how I think, and not just on statistical issues. This parasocial relationship can be one reason–not the only reason, but one of them–that strangers email me and trust me with their stories. And it goes the other way too! I listen to a few podcasts from those 404 Media people and I think of them as my friends, kind of. And then there’s Nate Silver: I respect his work, we did some small projects together, I even met him once, and then when he decided to stop engaging, I was really disappointed. But I guess I shouldn’t have been disappointed: Nate has many goals, and worrying about the details of his statistical models has to be low on his priority list.

The dangerous side of parasocial relationships with the news media (setting aside personal dangers such as stalkers, which, yeah, that’s scary) is when people place trust in news influencers who are spreading lies. I’m not thinking so much of politicians and performers such as Alex Jones or Al Sharpton or Tucker Carlson–I assume that even their fans see these guys as distant political actors, not as potential friends–, but rather influencers on social media–bloggers, even!–who come off as ordinary Joes with a story to tell. For example, I could do a lot of damage if I were to persuasively write in support of bad statistical ideas and junk science!

So there are pluses and minuses from institutional “Big Journalism.” On the minus side, as discussed earlier in this post, independent journalists can give me a sense of trustworthiness and commitment–they really do seem to care about the stories people are telling them. On the other side, major news organizations can institute some quality control (with some exceptions) so that, even if they’re writing cookie-cutter stories, they’re not doing willful manipulation in the manner of propaganda outlets.

I also see the downside of parasocial relationships, in that some people who don’t know me seem to think I’m mean. I’m not mean! This is not to say that I’m always nice, just that I try my best to see things from each person’s perspective. For example, I’ve said a lot of mean things about Cass “Nudgelord” Sunstein (for example here and here), but really am trying to understand where he’s coming from.

8. Journalists are busy!

I sent an earlier version of this post to some journalists I know–a mix of people, including a former magazine editor, a former wire service and newspaper reporter, a former college newspaper editor . . . Lots of “formers” there, which tells you something about the state of the journalism business today.

One of them pointed out a selection issue I hadn’t thought of:

I think there are tons of more indie publications that consistently rise and fall every time they have a big scandal, while the new york times or npr are big enough to withstand all their scandals. So the smaller publications that you hear of end up being more trusted.

That’s an interesting point. By the time I’d heard of 404, they’d already been around for awhile. They’re independent, but they’re big enough that I’d heard of them.

All my journalistic contacts pretty much agreed with my point that it can be frustrating to tell your story to a news organization and it turns out that they’re just trying to slot it into a preconceived structure: a clean narrative with perhaps space for a contrarian view but not much room for ambiguity. One of the challenges here is that critical journalism can require some subject-matter expertise, or access to people with subject-matter expertise, but it can be hard to find such people. Sara Silver discusses this in this story about failures of the business press in their reporting of the financials of Netflix.

But my colleagues also pointed out that a good journalist might interview lots and lots of people for a story, and there won’t be room to share all their stories in the published article. So, just for statistical reasons, it’s likely your story won’t make it to the final cut, and this isn’t necessarily a failure of the reporting process. This could be different for independent media which is more bloggy and can have more space to present a broader perspective.

Here’s how Stephanie Lee puts it:

Another factor that you allude to, but is more significant than maybe you realize, is that journalism is up against severe financial challenges. There’s been a massive decimation in staff-employed reporters (i.e. the mass layoffs at the Post, the closing of BuzzFeed News), and it’s nearly impossible to make freelance journalism work financially, and as a whole, journalists are under pressure to produce a lot of stories in a short amount of time in order to keep audiences engaged, keep the social media platforms fed, etc. This has always been true to some extent, but it’s especially exacerbated now. I sincerely appreciate your kind words about me, they made my day, but I also want to acknowledge that BuzzFeed and now the Chronicle have given me the time, space, and resources to pursue stories that I think are interesting and important, even if they take a long time, and that don’t even always result in publishable stories, and that most journalists don’t have these luxuries.

If you’re doing journalism as a job, you’re probably overworked and underpaid. Independent journalists can do better in some cases because they may be doing it in transition from one job to another, or because they’re working to build their personal reputation, or because they’re in a small-business structure in which they don’t need to work on too many stories at once. Or, as in my case, because they have a full-time job and they’re doing journalism on the side.

9. Summary

Sometimes I’m contacted by news organizations because they want an interview or a quote or background information, and, with rare exceptions, I feel like the journalists on the other end of the line are just doing their job–they’re not really interested in what I have to say, they just want some material to slot into a narrative they’ve already written. I expect that independent journalists such as from 404 would be much more respectful of what I, or other sources, had to offer them.

From the other direction, when people contact me with material, I show them respect. I don’t automatically agree with them; what’s relevant here is that I follow the implicit code: they’re giving me material and I’m telling their story.

OK, not always. On occasion I’ve received angry emails from prominent academics objecting to something or another in my posts. I’d rather they just write something in the comment section so we could have an open discussion. But if someone has something reasonable to say, I’m happy to post it, along with my take.

After writing all the above, I’m afraid I’m giving the impression that I hate most journalists. I don’t! They’re doing a job, and when people are doing a job, they typically fall into an “I’m doing my job” mindset. It happens to me too! I love research and teaching, also they’re my job, and there are days when I come into work and I’m not fully committed. Blogging’s easier because I’m doing it as extra. And maybe it feels different if you’re working in independent media, I don’t know. Again we have to watch out for selection bias, as there are tons of independent journalists or opinionators or whatever you want to call them on the internet who are some combination of stupid, corrupt, and irremediably ideological.

And those people working at the Washington Post, or the New York Times, or the BBC, or even NPR . . . they’re doing their best. They’re just unfortunately working within a framework in which their job is to regularly produce coherent narratives on deadline. So when you talk with them, they might not really be wanting your story; rather, they want a piece in a puzzle that’s already laid out on their table.

My purpose in writing this post is to frame this in terms of the implicit individual and social contracts that bind journalists to their sources. Anyone who’s reporting a news story, or is talking to a journalist, is putting in some time into what, ultimately, is a collaborative effort.