Democracy does not function properly without freedom of the press. The public must be informed in order to operate within our government and the press plays an essential role in our everyday life as citizens. Yet, for journalism to truly contribute to the type of democracy we aim to have, it must incorporate the tenets of democracy in its newsrooms. As an industry, we must strive toward newsgathering that reaches outside of the newsroom and plants itself in the center of our communities and asks the questions: What do you want to see on the news? What are we not covering and why are we missing it? How can we help create a well-informed population that is able to advocate for themselves? The old timey saying “the news is what the editor sees on his way to work” is not only dated but irresponsible. It is our jobs as journalists to search the far corners of our communities for injustice and ask our readership what they would like to see covered. Journalism is an opportunity to represent moments in time, governmental decisions and the state of the world, for others. It takes a close look at how our democracy functions, holds those in power accountable and creates opportunities for the public to have a platform.

Engagement cannot be reduced to a Google Analytics number of online clicks, instead it must be a relationship between newsrooms and their local community. Insular thinking has no place in newsgathering, reporting or publishing. Journalism must be inclusive, accessible and open to engaging in a dialogue with its surroundings. In our digital age, the increase of open source data, digital journalism and process-oriented reporting we are able to chip away at the false notion that journalism is something for the elite. In reality, journalism is something that happens on the ground that highlights the stories of real people. This sort of democratic thinking is being applied in our newsrooms through the use of digital resources that increase reach and accessibility. For example, the New York Times 2015 investigation on nail salons across New York was published in English, Korean, Vietnamese and Spanish. This editorial decision to include complete translations of the piece made it accessible to the communities disproportionately impacted by these kinds of abuses. In the recent emphasis on transparency in the news, the use of Document Cloud has allowed our readership to look into court cases, legal files and criminal records for themselves. The effects are that not only does our process become more accessible and understandable, but our readers are able to draw their own conclusions and trust the legwork done before a piece is published. Increasingly, I have seen numerous startups like Gather and Github aim to create a community of open sourcing and knowledge exchange between journalists, the public and coders alike. It opens up the space so we are able to address the concerns of the public as a collective, sharing expertise and innovating the use of data every step of the way.

As a young multimedia journalist, thinking digitally and democratically has become an integral part of my reporting process. I am ardently dedicated to not just accuracy, but public engagement and transparency in my work. I have physically put myself in the spaces I write about, whether that be a prison or a courtroom, and gone out into my DePaul community and asked, What would you like to see in your student magazine? I have found that when young people feel ignored, marginalized or frustrated by their administration, student media can play a critical role in educating and engaging our student body.

By now you’ve probably seen the face of Marilou Danley, the girlfriend of Las Vegas shooter Stephen Paddock, plastered across various media platforms. On Tuesday, Sheriff Joseph Lombardo of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department addressed the media naming Danley a “person of interest” in the investigation of the attack her former boyfriend carried out Sunday, leaving 58 people dead and hundreds wounded on the Las Vegas Strip.

Whether or not Danley knew anything about Paddock’s plans to commit a mass murder still remains unclear. In fact, she was out of the country when the attack took place. Danley had been in the Philippines from Monday, Sept. 25 until Tuesday night when she arrived in Los Angeles from Manila, according to Antonette Mangrobang, a spokeswoman for the Philippine Immigration Bureau.

According to the New York Times, “person of interest” is a loose term that does not necessarily specify that the person is suspected of committing a crime. This is the problem. At this point in the investigation, Marilou Danley has not been charged with any crime; therefore, she is innocent until proven guilty.

So, how should we as reporters approach a situation like this? Do we call a person of interest’s character into question by plastering their face all over the news, potentially depicting them as a suspect or criminal? Or do we wait until they are charged with a crime?

Marilou Danley could be guilty, but she very well could be innocent. It is not the media’s job to decide that or put that idea in the minds of the public. However, it is the media’s job to think ethically about how this is going to affect her, especially if she truly did not have any part in this horrific act.

So many times, people are brought into a narrative that they never asked to be a part of, and so many times, we act before we think. As journalists, we must realize that our actions affect the lives of others. Unless we are sure, then we should not run a story that could ruin someone’s reputation.

If she is innocent, every time a google search is done on her, her face is still going to be tied to this terrible incident. Every time she goes out to the grocery store, people will look at her differently. People are now going to remember her as Stephen Paddock’s girlfriend. That is her new reputation.

On the other hand, if she is guilty, well maybe it does not matter now that we released her photos and information because it was bound to happen anyway, but how can we be so sure to act before we actually know.

This is a big story with many moving parts. It is understandable that people want to know everything that is going on, but we cannot paint people to be one way or the other. It is not the media’s job to decide whether someone is guilty or innocent.

It is the media’s job to report the facts. That very well could have been done without releasing her pictures. We must be sensitive to the lives of others because one mistake on our part could have lasting repercussions.

Sometimes tragedy is inescapable.

Like hurricanes Maria and Irma that decimated Puerto Rico, leaving thousands homeless and without power. Or, more recently, the mass shooting at a country music festival in Las Vegas that resulted in 58 dead and over 500 injured. As reporters, we are often thrown into these situations to deal with the aftermath  — the tears, the bloodshed and the stories.

But when people are most in need, how do we stretch out our arms only to hold a microphone? Reporting on these events can be seen as spreading crucial news to the public, but can also be seen as insensitive towards others when most vulnerable.

[Embed video of CNN coverage here]

Take CNN’s recent coverage of Hurricane Harvey in Texas. During a live interview, a Houston mother criticized CNN reporter Rosa Flores and her coverage of the aftermath after being questioned about current conditions following the storm.

“People[s] are really breaking down and ya’ll sitting here with cameras and microphones trying to ask what… is wrong with us,” the woman responded.

The newscast quickly cut from the interview as Flores calmly apologized to the woman. CNN later issued a statement saying “The people of Houston are going through a very difficult time… Our reporter handled the situation graciously.”

In these circumstances, people are exposed and hurting. Journalists cannot disregard these emotions when reporting. We must balance the line between respect for people’s current position and asking often uncomfortable questions. As journalists, we must understand that sources hold the rights to their experiences and should avoid pushing people for the sake of a story.

Reporting tragedy is a journalists responsibility, though, especially when the events have a larger impact on the surrounding community and public. According to the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ) Code of Ethics, reporters should show compassion, avoid lurid details and recognize that gathering information can initially cause harm or discomfort to others. SPJ also notes that stories involving victims and grief should work to minimize harm and treat “sources, subjects, colleagues and members of the public as human beings deserving of respect.”

Yet, do reporters have a moral responsibility to be actively involved with aid? Only when a source is in direct harm. For example, photojournalist Kevin Carter sparked controversy after snapping an image of a starving Sudanese girl being stalked by a vulture for the New York Times. The 1994 Pulitzer Prize-winning photo resulted in the questioning of Carter’s journalistic ethics after he watched the pair for twenty minutes, waiting for the best shot.

When reporting tragedies, we are journalists first and citizens second. Our initial impulse may be to drop the pen, set down the camera and help, but remembering the reason for our being in these situations should remain forefront  — to capture history through storytelling.

Thus by sharing these stories journalism can begin to shape itself as a means of respectful social activism. We can only hope that through our coverage these stories will touch a larger audience, acting as a catalyst for compassion, support and change.

The role of objectivity in the wake of tragedy
Brendan Pedersen

Right before I went to bed early Monday morning, my brain dimly registered a news alert from the Associated Press: in Nevada, a Clark County hospital was reporting “multiple injuries” from a country music festival. When my eyes opened a few hours later, I saw numbers: 50+ dead, 400+ wounded, and the second-time news organizations were able to use the phrase “worst mass shooting on American soil” in just over a year. Frankly, between the roles of journalist and citizen, I do not know how to handle the massacre in Las Vegas.

Keeping opinion out of my journalistic writing has always required a lot of effort, but it felt like a duty I was bound to uphold for the sake of my news reporting and most of my magazine writing – even though the latter allows for some flexibility here and there. I’m a political science student, and that tends to invite the urge to argue, to craft narrative around evidence that turns into a claim or point. But mainstream journalism has long been expected to retain a shred of impartiality so that it can view the world it studies objectively. Subscribing to a single argument or belief system can belittle an organization to claims of bias in the eyes of the public, damaging its ability to reach citizens on both sides of the aisle and establish a basis for civil discourse.

However, since the 2016 election and in the midst of the Trump presidency, plenty of political norms have been beaten to a pulp. Perhaps the most jarring has been the newfound scrutiny on the idea of “objectivity” in journalism – specifically on its relevance. For example, when Trump officially renounced his former conviction that Barack Obama was not a U.S. citizen, the New York Times ran a front page “analysis” breaking down the then-candidate’s long history of hypocrisy and contradiction. We in the journalism world know that analysis is often code for opinion, and the Times’s choice to give theirs such a priority didn’t go unnoticed by media commentators.

But for many, Trump represented a uniquely existential threat to democracy, to the press, and to people of color, and that threat was worth calling out. Trump – the man and administration – has somehow become transcendent of normal politics. How far does that change reach? Has the way we talk about politics changed forever? The discussion around gun violence has been the definition of American politics as usual for decades now, and the media has often done its due diligence to get both sides of that debate recognized. Does a new, blood-stained high score challenge that norm? Should it?

In 2016, following the massacre in Orlando, the Boston Globe decided that it had reached the threshold of its moral outrage. It combined its newsroom with its opinion office and, despite misgivings from both teams, together they churned out an entire print issue dedicated to gun violence analysis and statistics a few days after the tragedy. It sent 8,000 tweets and 10,000 emails out to its readers, asking them to petition their representatives for meaningful change, amounting to what feels like a cardinal sin in the religion of journalistic objectivity.

As a journalist, I’ve written as objectively as I can about gun violence on the local and national level in the past. As a human being, the senselessness and brutality of it shakes me to my core every time. It is my conviction that gun violence is a public health concern of the highest order, but I don’t know if I can argue on behalf of solutions – even admit those beliefs — to my readers and hope to retain their trust. At the same time, as someone who believes that journalism is a career rooted first and foremost in public service, I also don’t know if I can look at myself in the mirror while relying on what has become a false equivalency – liberty for lives – pretending that I believe the gun violence is an inevitability in this country, or that the forces that have entrenched it are immovable. They are not.  ####