The intimate photographs and story of the heroin addict were irresistible. They revealed to readers in detail a horror in plain sight, yet beyond their everyday view.
But should The Oregonian have resisted publishing the irresistible package?
The story and photographs in The Sunday Oregonian’s Commentary section about Leasa Sherman raise important journalistic ethics questions: Should a newspaper allow journalists to take photos of illegal activity? Should a newspaper take photographs of life-threatening actions? And does a newspaper have a responsibility to avoid the potential of perpetuating racial stereotypes, even though an individual story is authentic?
The story emerged through the dedication of Rob Finch, a photographer who has won top international honors in his field. In the course of pursuing a story about Portland’s Old Town, Finch wanted to include the view of somebody homeless.
He gained the confidence of Sherman, who agreed to allow Finch to follow her and document her day. Finch was not expecting drugs to become part of the story, but on the first day she smoked crack around him, he says. Finch arranged to meet Sherman the following day because he wanted to learn more about her.
He returned to the office and had a lengthy discussion with his editor, Patty Reksten, about the safety and ethical issues involved. Among the many issues, she emphasized that he do nothing illegal, seek to remain in public places and not encourage or facilitate any activity by Sherman.
In the course of the next day, Finch followed Sherman and witnessed her selling drugs. He then followed her into a van where she was living and where he knew she intended to shoot up heroin.
Finch says he asked Sherman multiple times if she was willing to allow him to document her actions. He also stressed that he did not want her to do anything different because he was with her. “She said, ‘I’m doing this, whether you’re here or not,’ ” Finch says.
He also asked about her own personal safety, and she assured him repeatedly that she was not injecting a large dose. Finch says he knew that he was there to witness — not save Sherman nor prosecute her. “I felt like the best thing I could do in that situation is to tell the story,” he says. “To do my job.”
When Finch returned to the newsroom, the debate ensued about whether to publish.
Editors were chagrined that more discussion had not occurred before Finch witnessed the illegal activity, although they believe his actions were justified largely because they involved an adult subject and he did nothing to encourage the activity. After several revisions, Peter Bhatia, the executive editor, and Therese Bottomly, the managing editor for news, believed the story could be published.
They had concerns about publishing Sherman’s photo, as if she represented the face of addiction in Oregon. Sher is African American, whereas most heroin users in Oregon are white males. But they also recognize that the Commentary section, where they wanted it to appear, is separate from the newsroom and overseen by Bob Caldwell, editorial page editor. Caldwell thought the story should run, with the photographs. “I think the concern about racial stereotyping is a real concern and it requires newspaper editors to be sensitive about whether we are attributing negative characteristics by race and whether we are portraying people as a group in a generally negative light,” he says. “I think the solution . . . isn’t to hide problems in our community, but rather it is to cover the full range of newsworthy activity of people of any race, including their achievements, in words and pictures.”
The story and photographs appeared in the center of Commentary, with an author’s note that stated, “Most of Oregon’s heroin addicts are white men. But in her daily desperation, she exemplifies life in the hidden world of heroin.”
Although she realizes some readers and journalists question the decision to publish, Reksten, the photo editor, is gratified that several readers applauded the newspaper for showing a person who wanted her story told and a part of Portland they otherwise wouldn’t have known. “Do I worry about the fact that in Oregon, she might not be a typical drug user? Yes,” Reksten says. “Do I think the power of telling her individual story is important? Yes. It’s a story that needs to be told.”
I shared the package with Aly Colon, who teaches ethics at the Poynter Institute, a school for journalists in St. Petersburg, Fla. Colon understands the need for journalists to witness illegal activity to present a complete report on the community. But he says the newspaper must be clear about its journalistic purpose and only do it in exceptional situations and after extensive discussions involving top editors.
“They need to help the reader understand why the journalists were there simply as observers,” he says, “and why they felt it was important not to intervene or interfere with the situation taking place.”
Colon was troubled by the newspaper using an African American woman essentially to represent the heroin problem in the Portland area, particularly because it raises questions about accuracy. “Why not focus on someone who is representative of the story you want to tell?” he asks. “Why her?”
Historically, newspapers have not delivered the full range of stories about people of color, particularly African Americans, often focusing more on problems than achievements. I fear the heroin package could be viewed in that context of neglect.
Ironically, the focus of much of Finch’s work has been on sharing such overlooked stories. In this case, I admired Finch’s commitment, although the newspaper should have discussed further whether the story was exceptional enough to justify how it was pursued. And I wish the subject of the story had been representative of the problem.
