But I’ve never read a rethink-objectivity argument quite like Steve Buttry’s recent post on the subject. The language he uses is unexpected — and gets at the heart of why objectivity-at-all-costs is ultimately misguided.

Buttry’s post is a response to a Society of Professional Journalists memo urging journalists in Haiti “to avoid blurring the lines between being a participant and being an objective observer.” On balance I agree with his view on the SPJ memo, but leave the Haiti specifics aside for a moment. Read what Buttry says about objectivity in general (bolded emphases mine; italics are my blog template’s blockquote style):

[T]he notion of objectivity is a fig leaf for journalists who don’t want to deal honestly with our own humanity and don’t want to take personal responsibility for the human impact of our journalism. We’re just doing our jobs. We’re just being objective. Objects can’t be responsible.

Journalism is practiced by flesh-and-blood people with families and pulses. We can and should uphold professional standards such as fairness and accuracy and verification. But when we deny our humanity, we lie to our readers. And sometimes we miss the story.

You don’t often see objectivity described in these terms, but he’s right.

Denying one’s humanity. Lying. Avoiding personal responsibility for the sake of said lies: This is the language of pathology.

From this perspective, objectivity’s insidiousness becomes clearer. The pathology manifests itself not just in stories that might engage a journalist emotionally, but also and far more commonly in stories that engage (or should engage) a journalist intellectually.

Here’s Chait in that touchstone 2002 piece about Bias (same emphasis explanation as above):

[F]or the mainstream media, being even-handed usually means treating respectfully the reigning view in each party. … One consequence of this bias, as I’ve written in these pages before, is that the press feels obliged to take seriously even those policy claims that are empirically false.

That is, political journalists often know a statement is false or misleading but print it without qualification — knowingly participating in a lie to readers — for the sake of notions of objectivity.

When the good-intentioned pursuit of truth leads the truth-seekers to lie (to themselves, to readers; by inclusion or omission) rather than break their code, there’s probably something wrong with the code.

This pathological objectivity has become so harmful to civic life that President Obama made it a key part of Wednesday’s State of the Union address. (Though to be fair, his comments about the media apply equally or moreso to Fox News’ and various pundits’ plain old, not-even-ostensibly-objective pathological lies). Indeed, Obama’s Q&A session with Republicans on Friday was so riveting because we’re not used to seeing politicians’ empirically false claims get refuted publicly in real time.

The alternative, as many have pointed out, isn’t for journalists to say exactly what they think about everything they write or edit. Part of being a socialized adult, after all, is knowing when it’s appropriate to offer your opinion or keep it to yourself (there’s that common sense again).

Rather, a healthy journalism and healthy public discourse — not to mention healthy journalists — are better served by a professional-intellectual framework of honesty, transparency, and expertise (or, in Dan Gillmor’s formulation, thoroughness/accuracy/fairness/transparency) than by one ultimately built on lies and extreme cognitive dissonance.

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* It was before blogs so there’s no online record, but I have a college newspaper column proving I was on the rethink-objectivity bandwagon back in 2002!

The question has come up repeatedly in this campaign season of depressingly typical he-said-she-said news stories — with increasing frequency since John McCain picked Sarah Palin as his running mate.

In an ideal world, as Dylan Matthews points out, “When Sarah Palin claimed she opposed the Bridge to Nowhere, the AP headline would be ‘Palin Repeats Lie about Infamous Bridge’.”

In the real world, even a Washington Post story that’s ostensibly about campaign lies has to resort to wishy-washy phrasing:

Palin and John McCain, the GOP presidential nominee, have been more aggressive in recent days in repeating what their opponents say are outright lies. Almost every day, for instance, McCain says rival Barack Obama would raise everyone’s taxes, even though the Democrat’s tax plan exempts families that earn less than $250,000. (emphasis added)

Notice how the story won’t call McCain a liar — it’s McCain’s “opponents” who say he lies. But in the very next sentence, the Post reporter accurately describes one of McCain’s lies. The facts aren’t in dispute: Obama has a detailed tax plan, and McCain has repeatedly falsely described that plan. He has lied about it. So why can’t the story just come out and say so?

The reticence to call a lie a lie is perhaps the most pernicious example of how modern journalism’s objectivity fetish has been taken to such extremes that it’s become meaningless.

Objectivity is no longer (if it ever was) a means to reporting the truth. It has become an end in itself. If the facts can be interpreted to reflect negatively on a subject (at least if that subject is a Republican or allegedly conservative candidate for office), then they must be avoided. Indeed, this twisted notion of objectivity has turned facts into mere subjective interpretations.

But facts are facts. The interpretation comes after. And journalists should not worry about how the facts will be interpreted.

For example, simply pointing out that someone is lying is descriptive, not normative.

“John McCain lied about Barack Obama and sex education” is a statement of fact. It does not render judgment on McCain — it merely points out that what he said about Obama was intentionally false.

Now, it’s true that in American culture in general and presidential politics specifically, people generally don’t think highly of liars. But that’s reason for John McCain to stop lying — not for the media to stop pointing out when he lies.

If the facts reflect poorly on a subject in the culture’s eyes, that’s the subject’s business — not the media’s. (The whole point of objectivity was that the media shouldn’t be in the reflection business!)

The good news is, there’s been so much outrage in certain quarters about the media’s fear of lie-detection that maybe things will change. And if a new AP story on McCain’s lies doesn’t quite reach Dylan Matthews’ ideal — the still-too-tentative headline: “Analysis: McCain’s claims skirt facts, test voters” — at least it’s a start.

According to this mindset, the havoc wreaked by tax cuts, cronyism, and Republicans’ turning K Street into another arm of government were not the result of deliberate policies and practices by one party, but rather occurred because of “partisan gridlock,” because “Washington is broken.” Thus bipartisan action is always good, regardless of whether the legislation produced by such action is sound. (The New Republic’s Jonathan Chait is one of the best critics of this view, and his book The Big Con is a must-read for anyone interested in this sort of thing.)

Broder’s column Thursday about the recently enacted economic stimulus package is an almost comically perfect example of this shallow strain of argument. Broder writes:

A week ahead of their self-imposed deadline, the House and Senate, by overwhelming votes, sent to President Bush almost exactly the kind of relief measure he had sought for the staggering economy.

It was a dramatic reversal of the gridlock that had characterized executive-congressional relations throughout 2007, and it reflects the recognition by both Republicans and Democrats of the public disenchantment with official Washington that has been one of the dominant themes of the 2008 presidential campaign. (emphasis added)

Notice that Broder isn’t commenting on whether the stimulus package is substantively good. To him, the most important thing is that Congress acquiesced to what President Bush wanted. Is Bush’s plan what the economy actually needs now? Who cares! Hey, it’s gotta be better than gridlock!

Also notice that Broder presents the executive-congressional gridlock neutrally, as if everyone is to blame. Because, you know, it’s not like the administration has been stonewalling for at least a year on the shady firing of U.S. attorneys; on the disappearance of up to 5 million White House e-mails; on the destruction of CIA tapes showing the interrogation/torture of detainees; on its warrantless wiretapping program; etc., etc.

But this is the best part:

Time will tell whether the stimulus package — blessed by leading economists of both parties — will be timely and substantial enough to ward off a full-scale recession. But as a symbol of Washington’s capacity to respond to a real threat and satisfy public demand for action, it is impressive and heartening.

I’m not sure which leading economists he’s talking about. Most of the commentary I’ve seen — including this helpful list compiled by Greg Mankiw, Harvard econ professor and former chairman of President Bush’s Council of Economic Advisors (his own view is here) — has been decidedly un-blessed. But the policy itself doesn’t seem to be all that important to Broder; that single sentence is the only part of the column that even cursorily discusses the policy’s soundness.

No, what’s important to Broder is that the stimulus bill is a “symbol of Washington’s capacity to respond to a real threat and satisfy public demand for action.” What’s “impressive and heartening” isn’t that Congress and the White House passed a necessary, smartly crafted, and useful stimulus plan — who knows if they did that! What’s impressive is the symbol of responding to threats, of heeding some alleged demand for action.

According to this worldview, any action will do — as long as it’s bipartisan.