Collisions between the values of the privacy of public officials and the public interest routinely wrack journalists at The Oregonian. In the past two weeks, they considered these vexing questions:
If a prosecutor is involved in a motor vehicle crash, and the crash might be linked to a medical condition, should that condition be disclosed?
If the son of a U.S. senator kills himself, should the newspaper write about the death, even though the newspaper rarely reports suicides?
If a public official says his pension is not the press’s business, should the newspaper print it?
And if a small-town police chief apparently commits suicide, should his admitted affair with a criminal suspect that prompted an investigation be reported?
Journalists at The Oregonian answered “yes” to each of those questions in recent weeks.
But research shows that readers often value the privacy of individuals more than do journalists, who still insist they are acting in the interest of the public. To find out how readers of The Oregonian would have responded to those questions, I took advantage of a new group of reader advisers that news assistant Helen Shum and I have been assembling via e-mail. The growing group, now two dozen from throughout Oregon — ranging from a nurse to a retired businessman to an engineer — will be consulted about journalistic decisions at the newspaper.
Most responded that the private affairs of public officials deserve scrutiny by the newspaper, albeit limited, and the majority thought the newspaper should have published in each of those cases. “I believe that public officials are just that: public,” writes Jim Lahm of Tigard. “For this reason, what they do, what they say, how much money they make, and who they have affairs with, if it creates a conflict of interest, should be known by the people who pay their salaries and retirement.”
But no unanimous agreement to publish emerged in any case, and several were critical of the decisions. Perhaps most revealing, they all raised questions that journalists don’t always consider:
Prosecutor crash: Many reader advisers wrote they believe the prosecutor’s arrest on a charge of driving while under the influence of intoxicants should have been published. But a few questioned how the story was handled. Details on her medical condition appeared in a Steve Duin column, but not in a news story. A few wrote that a person’s medical information should always be private, unless the newspaper has the consent of the subject. Others argued that revealing the medical information — that a medicine often used to treat Crohn’s disease has severe side effects, including insomnia and psychic disturbances — was critical to understanding the case and was fairer to the prosecutor.
Suicide of senator’s son: Most readers thought the suicide of the son of Sen. Gordon Smith, R-Ore., was newsworthy, although painful to read. Understanding that journalists would be seeking information, the senator’s office issued a press release on the death. The newspaper published a short article inside the Metro section that described his son’s long struggle with clinical depression and specifically carried no details of how he died. But even that was too invasive for a few reader advisers, who question whether anything is sacrosanct for a public figure. “This was a troubled young man, not a public figure. He did not ask to have his struggle revealed because his father ran for office,” writes Ruth Weisbard of Beaverton. “How does it benefit us to know that this young man lost his struggle?”
Chief’s pension: Almost all reader advisers agreed the Oregon pension of former Portland Police Chief Charles Moose should have been published in a story about the release of his book. But most would oppose publishing more information about a public official’s other income or assets, such as the value of a house or a spouse’s income, unless it involved their position or public money.
Gaston police chief: Perhaps the toughest decision for The Oregonian involved the Gaston police chief, who investigators say shot himself to death along a public roadway earlier this month. The Washington County district attorney cleared the chief of any criminal wrongdoing in an investigation stemming from the affair. But the chief’s affair with a woman suspected of drug activity had led a Yamhill County drug team to avoid telling the chief about a planned raid in his town. After Gaston city officials told him they intended to investigate the situation further, the chief said he would resign.
Most reader advisers agreed with publishing the suicide and affair because the death involved a law enforcement officer and questions of public interest. “Public officials know their private lives risk being exposed, especially when their conduct is less than honorable or their job performance is less than adequate,” writes Grace Dinges of Portland. “. . . The article helped the reader understand why he killed himself. It allowed us to see his humanity, how difficult it must to be a public servant and how we can all make mistakes. And how suicide is not the answer.”
But a few were troubled by what they thought was the story’s implication of a motive for the suicide, when none is certain. Others questioned what good can be accomplished by reporting the details now, especially with a surviving wife and two sons. “What can be gained by reporting a relationship with a criminal suspect?” asks Marian McDonald of Portland. “The dead cannot defend/explain themselves.”
A danger for The Oregonian is that, in each case, its readers did not know the reasoning behind each decision. They didn’t know that when considering such cases, editors routinely ask: What if the story were about my family or someone I know? What is the relevance of the detail? Did the people involved have a role in releasing the information? Does the information raise questions of public misconduct or larger public policy questions? Is it of prurient or public interest?
Failing to share that thinking can widen the gulf between readers and the newspaper.
University of Oregon President Dave Frohnmayer says the increasing focus on the private affairs of public officials can have a backlash effect on the media because of the public’s distaste for it.
Frohnmayer has seen a dramatic increase in reporting on the private matters of public officials over several decades in public life. He is considered a longtime champion of the public records law that opened many records to journalists and also has been the subject of many stories about his private life. He mostly lauded the press on those stories, many of which he and his wife, Lynn, promoted to bring greater public awareness of Fanconi anemia, which caused the death of two daughters.
But he also worries that greater scrutiny of public officials has deterred quality leaders from entering public service because of a youthful indiscretion that might be written about. For Frohnmayer, journalists must ask: “Is there a real public interest in needing to know this set of private facts that make this person, who happens to be a public official, any different from anyone else?”
The reader advisers contacted struggled with that question. And yet ultimately most argued that persistent coverage of public officials has led to an opening of society, prohibiting the privileged and the powerful from continuing to operate in secret. That can be painful, they wrote, but it’s essential for the newspaper’s credibility and, ultimately, is respectful of readers.
“I believe if you do not trust your public, you can never serve it responsibly. Don’t be afraid to bring us the news; we can judge for ourselves . . .,” writes John Morace of Portland. “You have an obligation to demand full and complete answers from public officials and follow up when they lie or omit the truth — the public is entitled to know. Censoring, or ignoring the distasteful bits in a news story because you don’t think we can handle it, or you’re just plain embarrassed to ask, or you’re afraid that we will blame you or hate you for bringing us the bad news is, to my point of view, just plain foolish.”
