Features

The Next Generation

"If they lose faith in our ability to deliver them the facts correctly and accurately, then we're out of business." —Paul Kellogg '70, editor, Waterbury Republican-American

Though Murray believes ethics have improved, UNH journalism teachers say that their students have a different perspective. Jane Harrigan, director of the journalism program, worries that the recent media scandals may have poisoned her students' passion for journalism. Some of them have asked her: "Why should we be journalists? They're all slimeballs anyway.' " Harrigan has tried to convince her students that not all journalists are bad. "It's individuals making bad decisions," she tells them.

Harrigan encourages the students to work at the school newspaper, The New Hampshire, where they can train to become future journalists. In her classroom, she uses the recent examples of reckless journalism to emphasize the importance of credibility and accuracy. "We talk about standards and the enormous responsibility journalists have," Harrigan says. "They know that you don't make things up. Ever. No exceptions to the rule."

Like Harrigan, journalism professor Andrew Merton '67 talks to his students about how they can do good, serve as watchdogs, provoke change and hold a mirror up to what's wrong and right in their communities. He talks about his own reasons for choosing journalism in the 1960s, when reporters struggled to report the truth about Vietnam.

"Back then, journalists believed that just getting the information out would help change things for the better," Merton says. "The whole universe of communications has changed since then, but journalism still needs idealists, people who want to make the world a better place."

Merton and Harrigan's messages appear to have made an impression on some students. Students who have discussed and written essays in class about the media scandals say they've learned valuable lessons.

"It makes you want to do better," says journalism student Cathleen Genova '01. "I want to reclaim journalists' reputations. I want to do good and turn this around."

Rebecca Mahoney, the former Globe intern and current editor-in-chief of The New Hampshire, echoes Genova's enthusiasm. "Journalism is still the most amazing profession in the world," says Mahoney, who will graduate in May.

"Being a reporter is a gift. An honor." ~

Barbara Walsh, a reporter for The Portland Press Herald/ Maine Sunday Telegram, studied photojournalism at the University of New Hampshire. Walsh won the Pulitzer Prize in 1988 for a series in the Eagle-Tribune on the prison furlough system in Massachusetts.

A Journalist's Credo: Do No Harm

Reporter Barbara Walsh '81

The stepdaughter of a prominent South Florida sheriff had killed herself. In her suicide note, she accused the sheriff of sexually abusing her.

If the story were true, it meant the county's top cop was guilty of committing one of society's most heinous crimes. I was given the unfortunate assignment of finding out if there was any truth to the young woman's accusation. My editor sent me to her biological father's home to talk to him. That same day, the woman was to be waked.

I drove to the father's home with an increasing feeling of nausea. I understood that we needed to pursue the story, but did I need to disturb the father as he prepared to say a final goodbye to his daughter?

Competition played a role in my editor's decision to send me that day. We didn't want other South Florida newspapers or television stations to beat us to the story. As I walked up the driveway to the family's home, I drew a deep breath.

A woman answered the door. She was the dead girl's stepmother.

I told her who I was and explained why I was there. The woman's face tightened and she spoke to me in a whisper. Her anger hit me like a cold wind.

"We're about to bury our daughter. What do you want?"

I knew there was nothing I could say that would convince her to talk to me. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. For a few long seconds, she stared at my face, as if she could not believe I was human. She closed the door and I walked away.

I've always wanted to write to her, explaining why I came to her home that day. To explain that as a journalist I needed to find out whether the man entrusted with upholding the law was himself a criminal. We never did find out whether the sheriff molested his stepdaughter, but I have not forgotten that woman's face.

When I think of journalism ethics, it is not about some newspaper policy that prohibits me from lying, stealing or breaking the law to get a story. For me, ethics are rooted in a personal code, similar to that of a doctor's: do no harm.

We don't need to unnecessarily hurt people to get a story. We can be compassionate while we do our jobs. Did I really need to be on that father's doorstep that day? I'm not so sure. Did we need to pursue that story? Yes. But was there another way to go after it? Probably.

I've never thought twice about hounding immoral or law-breaking politicians, judges or cops. It is our job to act as watchdogs for the community. But when the story concerns ordinary people who have a right to privacy, how far do we go before it becomes harassment?

I'm not sure. I only know that I've never lost sleep over stories about bad bureaucrats. But I can't seem to shake that woman's face or the hate in her eyes on that warm South Florida afternoon.

—B.W.

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