Retrospective: When a source wants control of a story
Being a journalist in Malaysia means that sources will often ask to read your draft before publication. In line with journalism ethics, I always say no, and they usually accept this on the strength of my previous work and after I assure them I’ll make sure to check the veracity of any facts or quotes I’m unsure about. The most I’ve ever done is to let them know which quotes I’m going to use.
Once, though, that wasn’t enough.
A conservationist did stick to their decision not to speak to me when I said I couldn’t share my draft with them—my editor was, of course, also adamant about this. And since that conservationist was the main source for a particular project we wanted to highlight, there ended up being no story. We approached another source on different talking points instead.
The conservationist had insisted on seeing a draft even though they said that they could see from my work that I “write truthfully”, and the story would be for a reputable global outlet. They said that of all the requests they had received lately, they were most inclined to talk to me, but that they would need to see a draft. It wouldn’t even have to be the final draft, but a draft; they would not interfere with the nitty-gritty of the piece. I worried that this meant they wanted to ascertain that the general thrust of the piece would be “safe” for them. They said they simply feared that any misunderstanding could lead to their project, which depended on government approval, being blocked and its progress threatened—which, in a political climate that isn’t entirely free, is understandable.
When I spoke of this encounter (without divulging identities) with another conservationist, they commiserated with me but understood where this conservationist was coming from. They, too, have had their comments taken out of context in the past, perhaps by less attentive or experienced journalists. But they also said that, perhaps, in the moment, when asked a question on the phone, they themselves had not been careful enough to clarify or qualify the things they said, which contributed to any misunderstanding—which is why they often prefer a list of questions in advance.
I actually get this. I’m very sympathetic to this. It feels like a kind of meta issue we all grapple with (especially these days when a person’s comments are not usually first taken on good faith): the need to qualify a statement so it’s as accurate as possible, when certain formats don’t always encourage it. I feel that anxiety when I write, especially shorter-form news stories, where one has to be, ideally, both concise and comprehensive. And if the tables were turned and I were the interviewee, I know I would also feel the same anxiety.
It makes me think how important communication skills are, for everyone, so that one can anticipate how something one says could be read in different contexts (though doing this too much can have a paralysing effect). I’ve seen people receive backlash for something they were quoted on in a story, because they hadn’t realised how what they said could be interpreted. I’ve encountered interviewees like that myself in my own stories, and have sometimes wondered whether I should confirm a quote or leave out something that provided colour but which was not essential to the story itself, or which did not accurately reflect the sum of their views. Sometimes, it depends on how media-savvy I think an interviewee is. I think I see journalism, in part, as a medium to help different groups in society communicate better with each other. It’s a place where people talk to each other through an intermediary—the journalist—so as a journalist, you’ve got to do your best to reflect their views as accurately as possible, and then make sense of what it all means for a general audience.
Having said that, I think it’s important to keep in balance something Helen Lewis wrote in her newsletter: Don’t save people from themselves too much—and definitely not at all when it involves any wrongdoing on their part!