Too much persuasion, too little reporting
SAN DIEGO — A friend and fellow columnist recently described what we do as “the business of persuasion.”
Speak for yourself, amigo. As an opinion journalist for 33 years, I don’t write to persuade. I’m here to provoke — thought, that is. If I also spark introspection or analysis, that’s gravy.
I don’t care if you think the way I do. I only care that you put in the work to think at all. Nor do I feel the need to get you to agree with me. I’m content to just get under your skin.
That’s what journalism is all about — putting out information that some people don’t want out. You’d be surprised how many working journalists have forgotten that. Or maybe you wouldn’t be.
In June, Gallup — as it does every year — asked Americans how much they trust the media. Only 16% have a “great deal” or “quite a lot” of confidence in newspapers. For television news, the figure drops to 11%.
Who knew the numbers were that high. Who are these true believers? And what media are they consuming?
As to why the media’s reputation is in shambles, I have a theory: Too much persuading, not enough honest reporting.
Given that journalism was once a blue-collar profession, even if it isn’t any more, there is no need to put on airs about the mission. Real journalists — even opinion journalists — should not push advocacy or craft policy or champion causes on company time.
They shouldn’t use their forums to elect some candidates and defeat others. They shouldn’t engage in partisan cheerleading. They shouldn’t act like Democrats, and prop up a current president who is a failure — or act like Republicans, and resurrect a former one who may be a felon.
Opinion writers have more latitude, but they shouldn’t abuse the privilege. They need to channel their inner Liz Cheney once in a while and criticize their own team. This will make their pieces less predictable and vastly more interesting.
The calling of my profession is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. I’ve been trying to do both things for more than half my life.
It’s been a beautiful ride, but also a brutal one. In more than three decades on the job, I’ve been fired or canceled or laid off or escorted from the building 13 times.
But what I have not been doing over all those years, and what I’ve had zero desire to do, is try to persuade anyone to do anything.
There are other gigs that lend themselves to that sort of thing. I’m not a trial lawyer trying to sway a jury to win a big verdict for my client. I’m not a politician trying to convince voters to cast their ballots for me. I’m not a television preacher trying to get people to call an 800-number with their credit card. And I’m not an advertising executive on Madison Avenue trying to sell people things they don’t need.
I’m not into any of that. If I write something that sticks in your head for a few days, or sparks a dialogue with a loved one, or makes you think differently about a topic that you thought you had a handle on, I’m good.
In fact, I remember the exact moment — more than 20 years ago — when I realized that I wanted no part of this persuasion business.
I’d written a provocative column about a controversial subject, the sort that makes readers furious. A reader wrote in to complain. Instead of saying that I was flat wrong, he did something even more annoying.
“I’m not convinced,” he said. “Try again.”
I thought to myself: “Really? Who the heck is this guy? What, do I work for him now?” He took all the power, and left none for me. Besides — on hot-button issues like abortion, immigration, or gun control, where people are dug in — I could spend days, weeks or months chasing the approval of others and still never get it.
Journalists have to up our game if we’re ever going to restore trust in our profession. But you can’t do a better job until you’re clear about exactly what your job is — and what it isn’t.
The job of a columnist is not to persuade you to choose one path over another. It’s to give you the information and tools you need so that, no matter what you decide, your choice is an informed one.