Getting Back To Basics   

Journalism's fundamentals are more important than ever in today's exciting new media landscape.

THE FINAL YEARS OF THE millennium have been packed with radical change in the worlds of media and communication.
It's hard to imagine a universe without e-mail and the Internet and cable outposts for virtually every niche. But you don't even have to go back to the beginning of the decade to encounter such a primitive environment.
The field of online journalism is in its infancy. But its potential is extraordinary, and extraordinarily exciting.
1998 was a watershed year for the Internet as a tool for disseminating information. When Congress released the Starr report on the Web, making it instantly available to the public, the game changed. No waiting for journalists to digest material before telling you about it. It was right there, right away.
You've got to love a tool that allows you to select a wonderful cut by the Velours or the Channels from the Doo-Wop Jukebox Web site, then check out breaking news or your hometown sports section or the wisdom of the Nietzsche Aphorism Page while the sweet harmony flows in the background.
But while the New Media beckoned, 1998 was a year that also reminded us in the starkest of terms of the importance of journalism's Eternal Verities.
As you may have noticed, 1998 was not journalism's best year. The unforgettable cluster of high-profile debacles--Tailwind, Chiquita, Stephen Glass, Patricia Smith, Mike Barnicle--was as dizzying a barrage of bad news from and for the field as any I can recall.
Some of the year's worst offenses--the plagiarism, the overhyped reporting, the stolen voice mail messages--are covered by Talleyrand's terrific line: ``It was not only a disgrace, it was a mistake."
For the gaffes had serious, real-life consequences, in some instances of the career-ending variety.
Let's hope everyone was paying attention.
Because there could not be a more striking series of reminders of how crucial it is to stick to the basics. Check, and double-check, and triple-check. Report what you know and only what you know. Report aggressively and ambitiously, but play by the rules. Don't let your passion for the story overpower your skepticism and your good sense.
None of this, of course, is rocket science. But too often in this superheated and crowded media climate, these principles have been jettisoned.
The bitter year showed that these are not simply pious platitudes from some journalism textbook or ethics code. It couldn't be more obvious that violating the rules can carry a steep price tag--for the writer unlikely to work in this town again, or the newspaper company that shells out millions of dollars, or the news organization that takes a devastating hit to its credibility.
In a media landscape with so many voices, it is often hard to be heard. So the temptation to report with ``attitude'' and ``edge,'' to generate ``buzz,'' to be ``cutting edge,'' is huge.
Now none of these is inherently a bad thing. The world hardly needs more timid reporting and dull writing.
But journalism, like life, is a balancing act. Flamboyant, attention-grabbing writing packed with telling detail can be delightful. Powerful investigative reporting can make for irresistible reading while bringing about positive change.
But only when it's based on the truth.
The year also delivered a mandate for editors to edit.
Journalism today gives individuals far more running room than in the past. Distinctive writing styles are prized. Hard-charging reporters often get free rein to pursue their projects.
This is basically healthy. Liberating talent and energy often leads to provocative and valuable work.
But the pendulum shouldn't swing too far. There needs to be someone, at or near the top, playing defense. Editors have to be certain that the story delivers what it promises, that the dramatic assertions are adequately backed up. Someone has to make sure that that sparkling writer who always seems to have the perfect vignette, often with no names attached to it, really has the goods.
You want to provide the freedom to flourish while ensuring the train doesn't run off the tracks.
Finally, the world of politics in 1998 offered up an invaluable reminder to journalists. Whatever you think of the seriousness of the Clinton/Lewinsky matter, there's no doubt that the president caused himself incalculable damage by refusing at virtually every turn to own up to his mistakes.
If Clinton had admitted on Day One to an improper relationship with an intern, he would have spared himself--and the nation--an excruciating ordeal. Instead, he relived the nightmare lesson of Watergate: The cover-up is often worse than the crime.
Nearly a year after the Lewinsky scandal erupted, Clinton was still bobbing and weaving. His answers to the House Judiciary Committee's 81 questions were so evasive that they dramatically hardened attitudes in Congress against him, reviving what seemed a doomed impeachment drive with a single clueless and arrogant misstep.
It's something journalists and news organizations need to remember when they screw up, as everyone does: Take responsibility for what you have done, as openly and ungrudgingly as possible.
Sometimes the honorable course is also the smartest.