In a sometimes scathing article prepared by Howard Kurtz without the benefit of an interview with Bob Woodward himself (he refused, choosing the softball setup of Larry King Live over the more probing questions of Post writer Howard Kurtz), today's Washington Post here examines the problem of journalists whose focus on profits (lucrative book deals for Woodward) and celebrity (access to the innermost offices of the White House, like an equal, for Woodward) can place forwarding their own career ahead of providing the public timely information on the workings of government.
Woodward, who in his youth won praise for his tenacious reporting on Watergate and the corruption in the Nixon administration, has lost his bearings in the midst of successful middle age. His dependence on the powerful leads to rosy-glasses views of their thinking and their actions and a tendency to report it as they want it to be told rather than to peek under the carpet to find the hidden dirt. Woodward claims that to get stories, he has to have the trust of the powerful. Kurtz notes an inherent conflict as the bonds of trust with readers appear to be frayed and the consummate outsider reporter has become an insider protecting rather than exposing the current administration. Granted "unfettered access" to the Bush administration, Woodward becomes subject of questions such as "Why does an administration not known for being fond of the press put so much effort into cooperating with Woodward?" Id.
Why, indeed? Kurtz notes that liberals consider Woodward a co-opted "enabler," a "court biographer." Id. One wonders whether information that Woodward had squirreled away from interviews for his books might have better been used to inform the public in a more timely manner of the inner workings of the White House. Sydney Schanberg's article in the Village Voice, All the Reporter's Men, notes that Woodward consistently grants confidentiality to his sources.
"[He] promises all his interviewees that he will make no immediate use of what they tell him and will publish it only much later, in the book, which means perhaps too late for the electorate or Congress to act upon it before the White House makes and carries out crucial decisions--such as sending troops into combat." Id.
Schanberg gives an example on page 423 of Plan of Attack reporting on a long interview with Bush in December 2003.
"[Bush tells Woodward that he] wanted to make sure that his acknowledgment that no weapons of mass destruction had been found so far would not be published in The Washington Post until the book was released. 'In other words, I'm not going to read a headline, 'Bush Says No Weapons.' 'I promised he would not...'" Id.
Woodward's pursuit of his own self interest thus appears to come at a hgh cost to the public right to know--his access denies others similar access, and his use of that access to write books and withhold information from press stories public restricts the public's knowledge.
What is clear from the Woodward affair is that we need journalists who are aggressive, tenacious, and interested in sharing with the public the information that they manage to ferret out from the secretive corners of government. While the more detailed information that comes later from embedded journalists is historically interesting, we must always consider the source. The tendency of hostages to become emotionally bound to their captors should serve as a warning against trusting too completely that a journalist embedded with his sources has been as forthcoming as required.
Maybe Woodward's loss of credibility and admission of wrongdoing will be a good lesson for other journalists.
