Journalism is defined by its institutions. And journalists, whether they like it or not, are defined by them, too.
The public sees newspapers such as the New York Times as faceless, ink-stained atomatons decorated with florid fonts but lacking personality until a reporter or photographer or editor steps out of one, and then that person becomes “The Institution.”
Which is why most journalists — the credible ones, anyway — take pains to separate their selves from their institutions on personal matters. Because journalists by themselves gather and disseminate information, intent on doing those things without fear or favor. The institutions, on the other hand, may have an agenda, at the least a bottom line.
This came to mind after seeing a piece in GOOD full of chagrin over people’s particular Twitter habits. GOOD, an online reporting platform self-described as “pushing the world forward,” had a writer insisting twitterers stop including in their biographical detail the words “retweets are not endorsements,” on the grounds it was ridiculous and unnecessary.
“It’s become downright tedious to click through someone’s Twitter profile and read, ‘Retweets are not endorsements,’” wrote Cord Jefferson, who has the title “senior editor” listed under his name at GOOD. “If it were just one or two people with the warning, or if Twitter were some kind of newfangled technology, it might make sense.
“Rather than eroding the comity of Twitter by assuming that others are too ignorant to understand what is at this point a very foundational rule of the network,” he writes later in his conclusion, “let’s assume people are smarter than that. And in the event that someone doesn’t understand, let’s agree to explain to that person, without codifying it in our bios, that here on Twitter, retweets aren’t endorsements.”
Yes, that would be a lovely world to live in, wouldn’t it? Email to me the address and I’ll book a trip.
But here on Earth, despite our best efforts, not every human reads exactly what writers intended. Journalists, though always struggling to highlight context in their reporting, realize one thing: Context, unfortunately, is often in the eye of the beholder.
This was clear long before the Internet was born. The responsible journalist is a champion of proper context in their stories — every worthy writer should be. I’m surprised that Jefferson, in his capacity, thinks that’s unnecessary. People read unintended things into words and phrases, and they always will. My job in journalism for decades was to write clearly and concisely to minimize misunderstanding, because I knew eradicating it was impossible.
For example, even with “RTs aren’t endorsements” on my own Twitter bio, which also states clearly my journalistic affiliations, hangers-on to the Occupy St. Louis exchange on Twitter last fall accused me of kowtowing to, or endorsing the actions of, both the protesters and the police while retweeting accounts from various news sources about a protest. In their rancor, the factions also demanded a subscription boycott of my newspaper, assured that my retweets were evidence of a larger media conspiracy favoring one side or the other. Regardless, the aggrieved were convinced of their veracity and, I gathered from the spam bombs they hurled at me, unwilling to entertain other options.
Furthermore, Jefferson transposes his ideal of Twitter with the reality of it. Imagine stepping into a room where hundreds of people are talking at once — some to one or two other people, some to themselves. Occasionally, one person shouts and the conversations in a portion of the room are diverted, but those resume soon enough. More people enter the room; some leave. But nobody has full grasp of every conversation going on. A lack of intelligence and awareness isn’t to blame; the collective noise was too distracting.
That describes Twitter. The network’s “foundational rules” as Jefferson labels them apply only to civility; they are not in place to guide civic awareness and understanding. And in any wide-open, far-reaching conversation bookended by distractions, part of what we say is bound to be misconstrued.
But probably the one niggling detail of Jefferson’s plea that I found most disconcerting was the phrase “downright tedious to click through” regarding his having to read “retweets aren’t endorsements.”
Tedious, eh? Three words? Is he so time-challenged now that reading three words eats huge gobs of his day? Never mind that Jefferson didn’t have to actually “click through” them — I mean, who clicks on each word they read? A three-word disclaimer does not take longer to digest than a sandwich. Or, “Moby Dick.” Or, thinking through an argument before giving voice to it. In a world where context is king, and social media lacks so much of it, every little bit — even three words — toward understanding is a huge help.
Oh, and by the way. Just because I mentioned GOOD and Cord Jefferson here doesn’t mean I endorse them.
