OK, we all know what the NPR guy said and why it embarrassed two people into quitting (or being forced out). But what about the video sting technique, that of people pretending to be what they're not? In one view:
seems to me that the techniques used to obtain the video are also troubling. The self-described “citizen journalists” lied. They intentionally falsified their own identities. They claimed to be representatives of a Muslim organization wanting to give $5 million to NPR, when in fact they had made up the organization and had no intention of giving $5 million to NPR.
On the other hand:
This is what the FBI does to nail corrupt politicians — they pose as bona fide campaign contributors, and film meetings with politicians trying to make the campaign contribution a direct quid pro quo for sponsoring legislation, etc. It has been used in several states to convict legislators.
[. . .]
Moreover, much of the method of 60 Minutes over the years has been based on deception. The old pros like Mike Wallace work you over to make you feel like he is your best buddy, thereby getting you to say incautious things that, when properly edited, make you look bad. T
I have mixed feelings about the practice. It results in some great stories, and there is a certain satisfaction in seeing how people truly talk and behave when they think no one is watching. One of the few reality shows I've taken a liking to is called "What Would You Do?" on ABC. Actors act out provocative scenarios in public places and the hidden cameras reactions capture people's reactions. But such deceptions are fundamentally dishonest and tend to bring disrepute to a profession that can't stand much more of it. I'm not sure I want to be compared to the FBI or "60 Minutes."
I think this is a useful distinction, brought up in the first linked article:
When I was managing editor of The New York Sun, we had a policy about this sort of thing, and we took it seriously. The policy was very simple: reporters couldn't lie to get information. They didn't always have to identify themselves as reporters, but they couldn't identify themselves as something or someone they were not.
That's a dinstinction observed in the greatest undercover journalism sting of my lifetime, the Mirage Tavern scam run by The Chicago Sun-Times. A team of reporters opened a bar the newspaper bought and just filmed Chicago officials being themselves, demanding all sorts of bribes to overlook inspection deficiencies. The reporters didn't lie, except by omission. The fact that the Mirage series didn't win a Pulitzer Prize that year is one of the great journalism scandals of the age.
