Professional Ethics Codes

PREAMBLE

Members of the Society of Professional Journalists believe that public enlightenment is the forerunner of justice and the foundation of democracy. Ethical journalism strives to ensure the free exchange of information that is accurate, fair and thorough. An ethical journalist acts with integrity. The Society declares these four principles as the foundation of ethical journalism and encourages their use in its practice by all people in all media

Ethical journalism treats sources, subjects, colleagues and members of the public as human beings deserving of respect.

Journalists should:

• Balance the public’s need for information against potential harm or discomfort. Pursuit of the news is not a license for arrogance or undue intrusiveness.
• Show compassion for those who may be affected by news coverage. Use heightened sensitivity when dealing with juveniles, victims of sex crimes, and sources or subjects who are inexperienced or unable to give consent. Consider cultural differences in approach and treatment.
• Recognize that legal access to information differs from an ethical justification to publish or broadcast.
• Realize that private people have a greater right to control information about themselves than public figures and others who seek power, influence or attention. Weigh the consequences of publishing or broadcasting personal information.
• Avoid pandering to lurid curiosity, even if others do.
• Balance a suspect’s right to a fair trial with the public’s right to know. Consider the implications of identifying criminal suspects before they face legal charges.
• Consider the long-term implications of the extended reach and permanence of publication. Provide updated and more complete information as appropriate.

3. Act Independently

The highest and primary obligation of ethical journalism is to serve the public.

Journalists should:

• Avoid conflicts of interest, real or perceived. Disclose unavoidable conflicts.
• Refuse gifts, favors, fees, free travel and special treatment, and avoid political and other outside activities that may compromise integrity or impartiality, or may damage credibility.
• Be wary of sources offering information for favors or money; do not pay for access to news. Identify content provided by outside sources, whether paid or not.
• Deny favored treatment to advertisers, donors or any other special interests, and resist internal and external pressure to influence coverage.
• Distinguish news from advertising and shun hybrids that blur the lines between the two. Prominently label sponsored content.

4. Be Accountable and Transparent

Ethical journalism means taking responsibility for one’s work and explaining one’s decisions to the public.

Journalists should:

• Explain ethical choices and processes to audiences. Encourage a civil dialogue with the public about journalistic practices, coverage and news content.
• Respond quickly to questions about accuracy, clarity and fairness.
• Acknowledge mistakes and correct them promptly and prominently. Explain corrections and clarifications carefully and clearly.
• Expose unethical conduct in journalism, including within their organizations.
• Abide by the same high standards they expect of others.

The SPJ Code of Ethics is a statement of abiding principles supported by additional explanations and position papers (at spj.org) that address changing journalistic practices. It is not a set of rules, rather a guide that encourages all who engage in journalism to take responsibility for the information they provide, regardless of medium. The code should be read as a whole; individual principles should not be taken out of context. It is not, nor can it be under the First Amendment, legally enforceable.

Case Study: The AAA guidelines deconstructed

Tessa Verhallen undertook participant-observation research in the Netherlands into families where there were single-mothers who were also experiencing child-protection issues (Verhallen 2016). These were families where there was a complex and ongoing entanglement with a variety of state law enforcement and welfare agencies. Locating her study at the points of encounter between these families and the state, she was on the one hand ‘studying down’ with a focus on families labelled as ‘multi-problem’ and also ‘studying up’ with a focus on the role of social workers, police officers and other professional groups.

By way of an ethical meta-commentary on her work she provides a useful exploration of the limitations of ethical codes when applied they are in a research project that identifies vulnerable persons as its focus. The critique centres on the American Anthropological Association Principles of Professional Responsibility (first produced in 1971 and last revised in 2012). Along with a number of other commentators (Bell 2014; Hodge 2013), Verhallen draws attention to the limitations of the anticipatory presumptions that inform the AAA principles. Her critique is all the more penetrating given that her study did not go through ethics review at the outset, for the simple reason that in the Netherlands review machinery does not exist for social science projects. There is thus an important hiatus which emerges in the move from one country’s ethical framework to another. The AAA principles are crafted to be in harmony with the wider regulatory environment. For a researcher working across traditions, so to speak, the inadequacies of AAA guidelines in practice are rendered all the more stark.

Verhallen describes her ‘field’ and systematically works through the ways in which she experienced ‘incongruity’ between the AAA principles and the situations that she actually faced in her fieldwork and, of more concern, conflicts between the principles themselves. These conflicts are described under six headings: 1. epistemics and data quality; 2. the "do no harm" principle; 3. informed consent; 4. trust and rapport; 5. the form of engagement; and 6. transparency and data representation.

For example, in observing the ‘do no harm’ principle, a number of contradictions are apparent. The principle assumes that particular power gradients are in play and typically ones which run from researcher down to a clearly defined group of subjects. In this study, both the mothers and state officials are seen to have powers over the researcher and the locus of harm is not singular. Likewise, prior knowledge of what constitutes harm in the settings in which Verhallen worked is not always clear. There are harms that are unanticipated and about which the researcher only becomes aware when working in context. Finally, who is at risk of harm cannot be second guessed. Verhallen describes how the police officers who feature in her study occasionally ‘turned a blind eye’ to help families, yet this was behavior that, if revealed, could bring serious sanction upon them. Clearly, a major challenge in this research was to figure out who the research could harm and what the nature of these harms might be.

Verhallen also questions presumptions in the AAA principles that there is ‘data’ that can be lifted from the research setting. She describes a delicate process of gaining mothers’ trust. This process brings into question any simple injunction to exercise ‘neutrality and disengagement’. Against a backdrop of deep suspicion of anyone who smacks of authority and who might be in a position to exert unwanted power, Verhallen herself has to work to counter the tendency of mothers to identify her as part of the state apparatus. She describes the unfolding of multiple positionalities in which she is drawn into roles as: "confidante," "taxi driver," "babysitter," "friend" or "auntie," "counsellor," "mediator," "adviser," and "interpreter.” It is apparent from Verhallen’s account that, given the impossibility of neutrality, her identification is with the mothers (that is, her paramount obligation). At several points she describes assisting and advising informants in their dealings with police and social workers where these were acting in ways that were unjust or procedurally incorrect. She also arranged meetings with legal experts and social workers and otherwise slipped into the role of advocate.

Presumptions about consent as a transaction that can be completed prior to research commencing also proved to be problematic. As part of her immersion in the field, days were spent in the homes of mothers, during which a lot of people came and went and typically a lot of things happened. Verhallen describes the difficulty of getting written consent from everyone, given that she was present during a number of ‘live’ child protection encounters. During these she operated ‘semi-covertly’, that is, no one was actively deceived, but there were also people who did not necessarily know what her actual role was. Likewise, recordings were made of some encounters but, whilst the recording device was clearly displayed, not all parties had formally consented or even knew that it was running.

Finally, Verhallen interrogates the notion of transparency. Although the expectations are that data will be presented in ways that are transparent, it is clear that just what information is presented could be far more harmful than anything that occurred in the research encounter. The potential for harm to be done at the stage when accounts are formally made public is considerable.

To illustrate the way that these complexities occurred in practice, Verhallen shares with us the ‘The case of Kate’. During her fieldwork, Verhallen found herself in the midst of a crisis. A child, Martin, absconded from his care placement proceeded to make his way back to his mother, Kate, who was subject to a restraining order preventing her from having contact with Martin. In parsing her responses to the crisis, Verhallen provides a helpful analysis of the dilemmas she faced, how she responded and why. Her dilemmas revolved around whether her responsibilities were towards the authorities and the need to uphold laws which are about child welfare and protection, or whether they were towards a distressed mother concerned about the whereabouts of her son and what she would do if he were to appear on her doorstep. Verhallen is put squarely in the position of expert advisor by Kate and, moreover, her relationship with Kate is ‘tested’ in that she is asked to record Kate’s phone call to the authorities in case things became more problematic later on. Kate was concerned that she might be believed to have acted irresponsibly when faced with her son’s absconding behaviour and Verhallen was called upon as both witness and ally.

Case Study: Do professional codes have teeth?

David Mosse carried out fieldwork on a UK-funded development project in South India between 1990 and 2000. The project was supported by the UK’s Department for International Development who had an interest in gaining a better understanding of how aid money and expertise was used in practice (Mosse 2005). The form the work would take was an ethnography of the NGO, describing the workings of the organisation on a day-to-day basis. The evidence on which the study drew consisted of several methodological levels including a good deal of experience of the region and the role of UK-led development projects, documentary and policy ‘grey’ literature and interviews with people working on the project at all levels ranging from DfID officials, local consultants, project managers through to staff working in the field. A fourth methodological level was to be triggered by the circulation of draft chapters of the final publication with the aim of eliciting critical feedback. Crucially, Mosse argued, the document circulated was not meant to present an authoritative statement of how things ‘are’, but sought to elicit objection with the intention of using these perspectives to enrich his ethnographic account (Mosse 2006).

Far from enabling a more sophisticated account of the relationship between policy and practice to emerge, the sharing of drafts rebounded spectacularly. As Mosse describes it:

“Objections were made by my co-workers and informants to the publisher, to my university research ethics committee, my Department convenors, the Dean and the academic head of my university, as well as to my professional association the ASA (Association of Social Anthropologists of the UK and the Commonwealth) on the grounds that the book was unfair, biased, contained statements that were defamatory and would seriously damage the professional reputation of individuals and institutions, and would harm work among poor tribals in India.” (Mosse 2006:935)

This scenario is a nightmare for any ethnographer. It is deeply damaging to relationships with people one has come to know well, and reflects badly on one’s intellectual credibility and academic reputation. Of particular concern was his interlocutors’ disagreement with the book’s main conclusions and a demand from senior staff associated with the aid project both in India and in the UK that it should be re-written.

The position that Mosse took in response to these concerns about his text was to stick by the veracity of his account and the evidence upon which it was based. Essentially, he refused the demand that his informants be allowed to ‘adjudicate’ on the contents of his work. What is of interest for our particular purposes is that the objectors, faced with a refusal by Mosse to submit to their demands, appealed to other authorities which included the proposed publisher, his academic managers at the School of Oriental and African Studies and the ASA, alleging that the study breached the ASA’s Ethical Guidelines. With regard to the latter, the assertion was that the study had violated the ASA’s guidelines regarding negotiated consent and that his work had proved harmful to participants in the research (Mosse 2006 ,p.947). When the ASA Committee formally considered the charges laid against Mosse in March 2004, their conclusion was that they had no remit to adjudicate on what were quite explicitly ‘guidelines’ and not rules governing research activity. The call for the ASA to play the role of a quasi-legalistic body capable of sanctioning its members was eschewed. This ruling is important in that it gave recognition to a fundamental distinction between ‘facts’ and interpretation. Whilst factual accuracy is an ethical imperative, the ASA upheld the anthropologist’s right to produce ethnographic accounts in which interpretation takes the reader beyond any simple recounting of facts and on into the dense texture of life as it is lived in any given context. It was this latter aspect of Mosse’s account that caused particular offense to his collaborators, as it smacked of a moral betrayal of trust and professional solidarity. (See Harper and Jimenez 2005 for further explication of the significance and broader implications of this case. Also see Ed Simpson 2016 for a reflection on the nature and role of objection in response to ethnographic description).