Two things I believe to be true: One, this is a lousy time for journalists; two, Washington, whichever party is currently in power, runs on leaks. It always has and probably always will.
Information, or disinformation, usually emanates from a leaker near the seat of power. A trusted staffer. An aide to the powerful. If things go wrong, they’re expendable. The leakee is almost always a journalist or columnist. The Press with a capital “P.”
It was inevitable, even in this White House of extraordinary secrecy, that leaks would occur. When the leaker is doing the bidding of a higher-up, the leak can be meant to discredit an opponent (Plamegate). Motive, retribution. Or if it is perhaps a disaffected party loyalist, too fearful to take on the status of a full fledged whistle blower, it may point the journalist in the direction of wrongdoing (Watergate, and now, Prisongate). Motive, breaking the wall of secrecy.
Journalists are often caught in the middle, regardless of how much they want the story, or whether their editors will even allow it into print (think Judith Miller and the New York Times). But knowledge is not always power. Sometimes the knowing, and the leaker aware of the knowing, puts the journalist at risk. If the leaks are going to well-established journalists and columnists, the risk may be too great to readily pass on to an editor. Hence the dilemma that faced Bob Woodward. To tell or write about leaked information, in this case the identity of CIA agent Valerie Plame, which may have been a crime, or withhold the information, forcing the leaker to seek another target. It seems Woodward may have chosen the latter. This, however, put him at odds with his Washington Post editor. How this information plays out in the indictment of Veep Cheney’s aide “Scooter” Libby and the ongoing inquiry into White House operative Karl Rove is anyone’s guess.
Meanwhile, the White House is dealing with an unintended leak about secret prisons on foreign soil. Forget Gitmo and Abu Graib. These prisons are allegedly run by the CIA in European countries (their may be six, eight or more) where detainees are reportedly subjected to interrogation techniques not permitted under the Geneva Conventions. Bush and Cheney have rushed to condemn the report as false, the leaker as a traitor and the CIA blameless. “We do not torture,” says Bush. Then why is he so adamantly against the McCain amendment that simply says we won’t torture. Got to leave our options open. We’re dealing with terrorists, he says.
But these are tough times even for journalists who have not been the source or disseminator of leaks. TV journalists of a certain age are falling like soldiers in Takrit. They’re not protecting sources, outing secret agents or shining lights into the dark corners of power. Their crime? Age. Or the appearance of age. Or a reporting style from a more civil age. CNN cancels Aaron Brown, whose thoughtful reports were enlightening and always civil. He is replaced by silver-maned, smooth faced, Anderson Cooper. Because? People Magazine editors think he’s sexy. The first week of his two-hour program, “360,” featured mostly drivel. In a goosed-up, fast-talking style, interrupted by dozens of fleeting promos, he explored stories that were of absolutely no consequence. Entertainment replacing news. Film at 11.
Which brings us back to the Mouseketeers replacing Ted Kopel, whose farewell “Nightline” report is scheduled this week. He’s been gracious so far in discussing his replacement, three young reporters, anchors, news readers, whatever. It’s not that their shows had poor ratings, it’s that their loyal viewers were in the wrong demographic. Corporations and advertising rule the world.
The trend to livelier commentary and news extends even at PBS, whose record for serious reporting goes way back as in “The News Hour With Jim Lehrer” and “Washington Week.” Advertising isn’t an issue here, but demographics and creeping conservatism surely played a part when earlier this year veteran journalist Bill Moyers was replaced by his younger reporter, David Brancaccio, on “Now,” which was cut from an hour to 30 minutes. And loyal PBS watchers knew they were in trouble when serious, civil, discourse was replaced by the screamers of “The McLaughlin Group.”
Is this trend a result of the complete breakdown of respect among congressional leaders? Does strident political partisanship now drive every debate? Has the Bush rhetoric, “you’re either with us or against us,” trickled down to permeate all discourse branding reasonable dissent as unpatriotic?
Will careers in politics and journalism now attract only actors? Those whose voices carry above the fray? When news writers and editors take a pass on investigative reporting, how will we return transparency to government and civil discourse to reasonable dissent?