PRESIDENT'S
MESSAGE
By Stephen Pritchard

This presentation was made in June 1994 at a symposium entitled "Press Regulation: How far has it come?" in Seoul, Korea. The symposium was presented by the International Communication Research Institute, Hankuk University of Foreign Studies, and the Citizens Coalition for Media Watch. The Munhwa Broadcasting Corp. and Korea Press Center were hosts. Among the participants were Joann Byrd, ombudsman for The Washington Post; Richard P. Cunningham, professor, New York University; Lynne Enders Glaser, ombudsman, The Fresno Bee; Arthur C. Nauman, ombudsman, The Sacramento Bee; and William Morgan, ombudsman, Canadian Broadcasting Corp.

By Arthur C. Nauman
All rights reserved

We are here today to discuss a most peculiar kind of employment in journalism -- the position of news ombudsman. Here we have a man or woman who is paid a decent salary to criticize his or her own peers, his own associates, often her own friends. As we say in the U.S., the ombudsman "hangs out the dirty laundry."

And many of these ombudsmen do that out there in public for all the world to see!

One of my fellow staffers at my newspaper, The Sacramento Bee, once asked me: Why would a grown man wish to make his living doing that -- doing a job in which he deliberately makes enemies of friends?

The question is a good one, of course. It is said -- and I think with justification -- that an ombudsman isn't doing the job effectively if he or she isn't irritating or ruffling feathers. The good ombudsman soon becomes a pariah, a lonely figure in the newsroom.

But that misses the much larger point.

What the ombudsman does is in the finest tradition of journalism. The ombudsman does what good journalists always have done: aggressively examines powerful public institutions, letting in light for the purpose of improving that institution and its service to the people.

We know the media is a great dichotomy. On the one hand it has an obligation -- and a right -- to provide its owners with a fair return on their investment. It must be operated as a successful business.

But on the other hand, it is a public trust, a kind of public utility. It is an institution invested with enormous power in the community, the power to affect thoughts and actions by the way it covers the news -- the power to hurt or help the common good.

The founders of the United States in the 18th century drafted the basic document that established our country s form of government -- the Constitution. That constitution gave the American press unique protections. No other profit-making entity was singled out for mention in the Constitution, and given those protections. Only the press. Those protections -- embedded in our First Amendment, guaranteeing freedom of speech -- are a privilege.

That privilege carries with it a great obligation, the obligation to be accountable -- accountable to the people the press serves.

It seems to me that this kind of accountability is owed to all societies that are served by a free press, even those without the kind of protections the American press enjoys.

I can think of no reason why the press -- with all its influence and power over the lives and minds of the people -- should not be subject to the same kind of scrutiny as is focused on other powerful segments of the community: the government, military, business, arts, religion, finance and all the rest.

Surely it is in the press' own self-interest that such scrutiny -- honestly and fearlessly done -- come from within the press itself. If we don't do it, somebody else -- with perhaps nefarious motives -- might do it for us.

In the ancient Scandinavian language the word ombudsman meant "the man who sees to it that the snow and ice and rubbish are removed from the streets and that the chimneys are swept."

An American college student discovered that old definition a few years ago while researching her master's degree thesis.

She remarked, "It is delightful the Swedes chose to christen their citizens' representative with the down-to-earth word. And it is also appropriate. The ombudsman's job is indeed to sweep -- to sweep away barriers between readers and the press."

Today, of course, the word means something quite different. An ombudsman is somebody who receives and investigates complaints from the public and attempts to achieve fair settlements to disputes.

The Swedes have had ombudsmen dealing with government agencies and the parliament since 1809.

It was 1916 when Sweden established the Swedish Press Council, or what was called the "Court of Honor." It was a means for the press to exercise what it called "self-discipline."

In 1969 this press council appointed its own ombudsman. It was a response to the public outcry against unethical press behavior, especially against how the press was reporting crime, behavior that was reaching ominous proportions. For its part, the Swedish press feared legislation would be enacted to curtail the media if the existing system or self-discipline wasn't made more responsive.

In America, as far back as 1947, there were calls for the press to clean up its house. That year Henry Luce, the founder of Time and Life magazines, was instrumental in convening a group of notable non-journalists to examine the press with some care. It was the Hutchins Commission on Freedom of the Press, named after its chairman, Robert Maynard Hutchins, at that time president of the University of Chicago.

After lengthy study, the commission, which was supported by private philanthropy, issued a warning: the press either must monitor itself or risk being monitored by the government.

"One of the most effective ways in improving the press is blocked by the press itself," said one of the commission's conclusions. "By a kind of unwritten law, the press ignores the errors and misrepresentations, the lies and the scandals, of which its members are guilty."

And this, of course, was long before the age of lurid tabloid scandal sheets and the prurient television shows that masquerade as news programs.

The commission's findings were largely ignored. They received the silent treatment from the American media establishment.

Into the 1960s the anti-press mood in the U.S. continued to grow, perhaps as part of the broader lack of confidence in all major institutions, in addition to a reaction against the quickening power and ownership concentration of the mass media.

Jean Otto, today the ombudsman for the Rocky Mountain News in Denver, Colorado, and formerly an editor for the Milwaukee Journal in Wisconsin, told an interviewer: "The press suffers from arrogance. Sometimes people in the press act as if they are doing their jobs for each other and maybe God, and nobody else ought to get in the way."

A Michigan State University study in the late 1900s found that "many reporters are cynical about the public's intelligence, arrogant about the journalist's role in deciding what is published, and inclined to reject public criticism."

Many of us journalists told our readers, in effect: "Sit back. Trust us. We're professionals. We know what news is; we know how to find and write it. We'll give it to you in a timely fashion and you'll all be better citizens. But don't call us. We don't have the time to talk to you."

Readers, though, weren't as dumb as many journalists thought they were. They knew we journalists are mere mortals, and that like all humans we make mistakes. They resented it when we didn't correct ourselves. On top of that, and probably more important, readers were beginning to find many other sources for getting the news besides their morning newspaper. We newspaper people were becoming increasingly irrelevant.

Gradually, newspapers -- at least some of them -- began to understand that a frank admission of errors can be good for credibility, and credibility, after all, is a newspaper's prime asset.

It was an editor of The Washington Post who sounded the first call for a newspaper ombudsman in North America. In March 1967, Ben Bagdikian wrote in Esquire magazine that the press was experiencing a crisis in public confidence, and too often for valid reasons.

He felt an ombudsman might be one way to avoid deepening the public's disenchantment. He wrote: "Some brave owner someday will provide for a community ombudsman on his paper's board...to present, to speak, to provide a symbol and, with luck, exert public interest in the ultimate fate of the American newspaper."

Just a few months later, A.H. Raskin, the esteemed labor reporter for The New York Times, explored the ombudsman concept even further in an article he wrote for his paper's Sunday magazine. He contended that the press was overly complacent and did not sufficiently criticize itself.

"That is the point of my proposal that newspapers establish their own Department of Internal Criticism to check on the fairness and adequacy of their coverage and comment," he wrote. "The department head ought to be given enough independence in the paper to serve as ombudsman for the readers, armed with authority for more effective performance of all the paper's services to the community, particularly the patrol it keeps on the frontiers of thought and action."

Ironically enough, The New York Times never did rise to Raskin's proposal and appoint an ombudsman.

But eight days after his article appeared, the Courier-Journal in Louisville, Kentucky, did. It appointed the first news ombudsman in North America.

Not long after that, The Washington Post became the first newspaper to install an ombudsman who not only answered reader complaints but also commented publicly and critically on the paper's performance.

Today, there are 37 full-time ombudsmen in the United States, seven in Canada, and at least another dozen in Brazil, Japan, Spain, Israel, England, Venezuela, Paraguay, South Africa and France.

These men and women, of course, do not all work alike. Some have more independence than others. Some call themselves by other titles -- public editor, reader representative, reader advocate. Some write columns regularly, some only occasionally or not at all. Some, like Ms. Byrd of The Washington Post, are retained on a contract basis. Most are on the newspaper's regular payroll.

None has authority to hire or fire other journalists. Some have authority to order corrections to be published. Some participate as observers in the daily news planning meetings. All provide their editors with internal critiques in one form or another.

But whatever their differences, I think it is fair to say that all are committed to fairness, accuracy and balance in the news columns.

Please note again that last sentence: fairness, accuracy and balance in the news columns. No ombudsman I know about attempts to deal with arguments over editor page opinion. I like to tell readers that every editorial opinion is unfair, inaccurate and unbalanced -- by somebody's point of view. But those opinions are properly the province of the ownership of the paper. It is in the news columns where accuracy and balance are expected -- and absolutely essential.

The ombudsman isn't there to stifle expression of pinion. Nor is the ombudsman there to stifle aggressive reporting of legitimate news.

I have seen evidence that the presence of a news ombudsman does indeed prod reporters and editors to more careful, more thoughtful work. Yes, they know that if their work is slipshod, they might very well find themselves being scolded in print by the ombudsman. That is a strong motivation for good work.

It is, we all acknowledge, hard to measure exactly how effective an ombudsman really is. But I like to think that if any presence (as yet another set of eyes trained on the newsroom) causes a reporter to make one additional telephone call to double- or triple-check a fact, or causes an editor to linger even one additional minute over how a story or a headline is written, then I will have done my job well.

What makes a good ombudsman? In my opinion he or she needs these principal traits:

First, a deep understanding of the journalistic process. He or she should be a veteran reporter or editor. He or she should have "been there," as we say, and should understand exactly how journalists go about their business.

Second, a deep understanding of the community the paper serves; its demographics, its history, its geography.

Third, a genuine interest in people -- the ability to listen to them without instantly raising defensive walls. Tact and friendliness obviously count for a great deal.

Finally, the successful ombudsman needs a tough outer skin, and s strength of character and resolve to withstand the psychological rigors of that "aloneness" that comes to every ombudsman.

Now, you are entitled to ask this pertinent question: There are about 1,700 daily newspapers in the United States. Yet there are only 37 ombudsmen. Why are there so few?

First, it can be expensive. The best ombudsman is somebody who typically is already on the staff in a fairly high position -- perhaps a senior writer or a middle-level editor. he or she already is earning a good salary. To remove that person from active newsroom production can leave a large hole in a staff. The hole will have to be filled. That costs additional money. Not many smaller newspapers can afford to do that. Some large papers -- located in areas of America where the recession has hit hard -- can't either.

Second, many editors have a deep conviction that an ombudsman actually is an impediment to their relationship with readers -- that ombudsmen stand between themselves and readers. Several editors I have heard say, "Every editor should be an ombudsman."

To this, we ombudsmen respond, yes, if it were a perfect world, if every journalist had sufficient time in his or day, if every journalist had a commitment to tact and understanding, then definitely, a paper would not need an ombudsman.

But we all know the world is otherwise. The world and all its people are indeed imperfect. Journalists are no different. They often are harried. Their interests aren't always the same as that of readers. The pressure of deadlines and other professional obligations often leaves them little time and inclination to spend with readers. These journalists are therefore too often disconnected from their readers, which only makes worse the perception that they are aloof and arrogant.

We must also face squarely the fact that many journalists are simply defensive by nature. Nobody likes to be criticized, but I think least of all journalists. Their skins are thin; their egos are large. They can and do criticize other institutions with great ease and facility. But when the spotlight is turned back on them, they squirm.

We have found that only self-assured, secure and open-minded editors and publishers are comfortable enough to install an ombudsman and then permit him or her to function untrammeled. Alas, there seem to be precious few of these around.

Two ombudsmen have been sacked in North America by editors who strongly disagreed with columns they had written -- columns that forthrightly criticized their paper's performance on a given story. One was in 1980 in St. Petersburg, Florida; the second was two years ago in Winnipeg, Canada. In each case, as far as we know, the editors there simply could not abide that hot spotlight.

In three or four other cases, ombudsman programs have been quietly dropped and the ombudsman either retired or reassigned to other duties.

As nearly as I can determine, in nearly all of these cases the ombudsman program was dropped for economic reasons.

But since the founding of the Organization of News Ombudsmen in 1980, there has been a steady but slow growth in our numbers.

Another pertinent question you and readers are entitled to ask is this: "All right, you are on the newspaper's payroll. You are one of its employees! [How can you be independent?]"

And I respond this way: "True, I get my paycheck every two weeks, just as all the others do. But all I ask is, please read my column. Not just one column. Not two or three. Read my columns over a month or two. And then see if you don't agree that I am truly independent."

It is said -- and I think accurately -- that the great untold story in journalism is journalism itself. Here stands the ombudsman, then, hovering near the newsroom; helping to tell that story; letting in the needed light; providing readers with another window into our process, ready and able to lend them a helpful, impartial ear.

It is work that brings mental stress, but also a great measure of personal satisfaction.

Dick Cunningham, who is also on our program today, described for an interviewer some years ago something every news ombudsman has felt:

"The most striking thing to every ombudsman after he or she has been in office for about a year is that people are delighted and surprised to find that their complaints have been given a thoughtful airing and discussion. Even when a complaint is not decided in the reader's favor, the common reaction is still, "I'm pleased to know I have a voice."

I can attest to that. Frequently, when I investigate a complaint and make a decision that favors the newspaper the reader will respond by saying, "That's okay; just to know that somebody listened to me is great."

Somebody listened. It is an important lesson for any journalist.

Credibility, as I said, is our most precious asset. It is gained by the inch. It is lost by the foot. And the ombudsman can be a prime ingredient in building and keeping credibility, that precious commodity.

I'd like to conclude with a comment by Charles W. Bailey, a former editor of the Minneapolis Tribune, who appointed the paper's first ombudsman -- who, in fact, was Mr. Cunningham.

"The ombudsman's job is not to make himself or his editor or even his newspaper either popular or beloved," said Mr. Bailey. "His job is to regain or retain the respect of readers. It's not a wholly disinterested goal. In the long run, respect is the only sentiment that will keep the public reading, believing, supporting -- and buying -- a newspaper."

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