The assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin provides a dramatic context for questions of liberty and tolerance in a liberal democracy. His death brought charges that extreme statements by his political opponents had created a climate in which assassination by an Israeli extremist was more likely. Such a hostile climate would have been impossible—or at least more difficult—to create without the cooperation of the media in publicizing these statements.
The question of media responsibility is important in two fundamental ways. First, how can terrorist acts of political extremists be covered responsibly by the media? Given the sensationalism of such events and the speed of modern technology, the media can easily become agents of terrorists, providing coverage that furthers their aims or simply endangers hostages. As significant as this question is, this essay is more concerned with the responsibility of the media in covering political extremists when they are not engaging in terrorism: What is the responsibility of the media in publishing or broadcasting information about political extremists who, at one level, threaten the very core of a democratic system?
To focus only on the act of terrorism is to repeat the mistake often made by journalists who imagine that the news is always driven by events. A more fundamental question—and one more relevant to the daily work of journalists in the United States—is how political extremism should be covered as news.
My answer to this basic question may not be satisfying, yet it is inescapable: No single guideline or policy governing ethically responsible media coverage of political extremists is adequate to deal with the diversity of problems such coverage raises. This is true for two basic reasons. First, the ethical values at stake vary depending on the type of media coverage one is discussing. I want to offer examples of three types of political extremism that illustrate that point. In the case of the infamous Unabomber, the threat to the media is coercion—undermining its freedom—while the risk to the public is physical harm. In the case of the Ku Klux Klan, the threat to the media is not overt coercion, but manipulation. In other words, the ethical value at stake—for the media and for the public—is truth, not liberty. In the case of the militias, the media are not at risk as much for manipulation as for exclusion. Secrecy and suspicion of the media have led many extremist groups in the United States to operate on the margins of society. Here the challenge of the media is to bring coverage of such groups into the consciousness of their audiences. In each of these cases, I want to argue that the media's responsibilities will differ depending on whether extremists are interested in coercing, manipulating, or excluding them.
Second, media strategies for dealing with political extremism are inevitably case-dependent because the circumstances of each case vary. Within each of the three types of extremist/media strategies (coercion, manipulation, exclusion), one can find examples of cases that call for radically different responses. This will be seen most clearly in the case of the Unabomber, but it is also true elsewhere.
A case-specific response to political extremism may seem the worst possible kind of strategy for the media to adopt. At first glance it appears to degenerate into a kind of limp situation ethics in which journalists are free to do whatever seems expedient in the moment, ignoring questions of policy or principle and playing into the hands of political extremists. In fact, a case-based strategy ignores neither policy nor principle. Our analysis of the three cases will result in some clear guidelines and direction for journalists faced with similar cases. Moreover, the analysis itself will be driven by a commitment to specific principles, including liberty, truth, and the prevention of harm. However, the key is in seeing the guidelines and principles emerging from the cases, rather than being defined theoretically.
I. Casuistry
This methodological commitment is to casuistry, a case-based form of reasoning and analysis. Casuistry has no single, universally agreed definition. Different forms can be found in Jewish rabbinical literature, Jesuit writings of the Middle Ages, and post-Enlightenment Protestantism. Indeed, casuistry has been equated with almost every form of applied ethics from the deductive application of principles1 to situation ethics.2 Part of the reason for this confusion is that its practitioners rarely defined the methodology they practiced.
Although a complete defense of casuistry cannot be undertaken here, 3 several features are critical to understanding its usefulness. First, casuistry begins with cases. The particular circumstances of concrete problems are critical for decisions about what one ought to do. For example, the decision to publish or not publish a story may depend on the degree to which a journalist trusts an anonymous source. Casuistry is thus an inductive method, working from specific details toward ethical judgments.
Not all ethical reasoning is inductive. Indeed, not all casuists engage exclusively in “bottom-up” analysis. Sissela Bok has employed a casuistic strategy in her analyses of lying and secrecy. Yet she clearly has a moral framework within which she explores cases of lying.4 The critical point for casuistry is that the meaning of ethical terms can only be articulated in the context of real problems, not in the abstract. To say that journalists are committed to truth telling is important, but not as useful as knowing what truth telling means in a decision about news coverage. As Jonsen and Toulmin argued in their recent defense of casuistry, the casuist is concerned with “who, what, where, when, why, how, and by what means.” 5 Journalists could not ask for a method of moral reasoning more sympathetic to their craft.
Second, a goal of a casuistic analysis is the development of a set of guidelines, what Jonsen and Toulmin call a “moral taxonomy.” 6 While casuistry takes account of the differences among cases, moral judgment is not arbitrary. Fairness argues for treating similar cases similarly. Ideally, such judgments are reached looking at other cases as well. This can happen in a number of ways. One's judgment in a particular case can be tested by comparing it to a similar case to see if the precedent set by the first case can be applied in the second. If not, the precedent might need to be modified to meet the new circumstances of the second case. In this sense, casuistry is a kind of common-law ethics, growing out of cases, but developing guidelines that help the journalist respond to similar problems in a consistent way.
This focus on case-based guidelines is also what sets casuistry apart from situation ethics. Situation ethics argues that each situation is unique, that the right action can only be discerned in the moment, and that rules or guidelines can be thrown out when the situation demands it.7 Casuists, on the other hand, are bound by precedent. Although a new case may call for the modification of the existing guideline, it cannot simply be thrown out. Indeed, the goal of the casuist in modifying a guideline is to work toward a better standard that will be increasingly reliable as a guide to responsible action.
This comparison of cases is a complicated strategy. Giving priority to the particular circumstances can lead into the kind of self-serving conclusions that led casuistry astray in the Middle Ages. Blaise Pascal's exposure of laxity by the Jesuits in defining the features of a case to justify the actions of the rich and powerful 8 led to the decline of casuistry for centuries and its lingering disrepute today.
To avoid this outcome, a third key feature of casuistry is making a judgment of relevance. Many features of a case (the time of day, the color of the subject's hair) are irrelevant to judgment in a case. Other circumstances (such as the risk of harm to a subject of a news story) are likely to be relevant. Historically, casuists have regrettably spent little time defining what counts as relevance in case analyses. However, the factors that are judged relevant in cases are often relevant only because of their link to basic ethical principles.9 For example, guidelines for the use of anonymous sources can be traced to their impact on ethical principles such as truth telling, nonmaleficence, and justice.10 In the same way, the relevant features of cases involving media coverage of political extremism will be seen to have close links to ethical values. Identifying relevant features of cases is a complicated process, but it cannot be avoided. Indeed, this only identifies a common feature of virtually every ethical argument: debate over what counts as important (relevant) in making a sound ethical decision.
Casuistry thus has a number of attractive features for our task. The practice of casuistry fits the journalist's practice: seeking out the who, what, when, where, why, and how of the news. Not surprisingly, investigations of decision-making strategies on controversial issues in newsrooms have shown that journalists frequently solve ethical dilemmas using case-based reasoning.11 Moreover, casuistry requires attention to critical detail and a commitment to ethical principles as guiding forces in the creation of reasonable responses to questions about media coverage of political extremism.
II. The Unabomber
A clear example of the usefulness of such a case-based approach is the case of the infamous Unabomber. Since 1978 an unknown terrorist, nicknamed the Unabomber, had killed three people and injured 23 others in a series of 16 bombings. In June 1995, the Unabomber demanded that the New York Times and the Washington Post publish a 35,000-word manifesto calling for an industrial and technological revolution. If the two newspapers complied, the Unabomber promised to refrain from any bombing that would take human life. Publication of three additional annual statements was also demanded. Federal authorities, including Attorney General Janet Reno, pleaded with the newspapers to accede to the request for publication of the manifesto.
Although clearly extreme, the Unabomber case is an important one for media ethics. Individuals and groups have attempted to coerce the media with threats before. According to Arthur Sulzberger Jr., publisher of the New York Times, “Newsrooms regularly receive messages from people threatening dire actions unless their demands are met.” 12
The key question is how those threats are to be addressed. Indeed, journalists had a difficult time deciding how to address the Unabomber's threat. When surveyed by reporters, many professed ambivalence or even relief that they were not forced to make this decision. A poll of journalists by Presstime/Newspaper Association of America found that roughly half thought the manifesto should be published—and half thought it should not.13 One journalism ethicist may have reflected the tension journalists felt when he was quoted in two separate publications on opposite sides of the argument.14
However, if journalists as a whole were ambivalent, the line between the two options was clearly drawn. Opposition to publication was clear and unequivocal. Two basic arguments were offered. The first was an absolutist argument that made refusal to publish a matter of principle. Jeff Cohen, director of the media watchdog group Fair, put it most succinctly: “I don't know what they have gained by printing the manifesto, but I do know what they lost: They lost principle.” 15 The principle at stake for journalists is autonomy: the freedom to control the content of the news. As William Serrin of New York University argued, “[Y]ou don't let outsiders tell you what to put in your paper.” 16
The importance of autonomy or independence for the media cannot be overestimated in liberal democracies. Yet it is precisely the presentation of this principle in isolation that distorts the reality of the journalist's dilemma. Casuistry argues that ethical decisions ought to be made in the context of cases. That grounded perspective exposes journalists, like all human beings, as having allegiances to multiple principles: truth telling, promise keeping, justice, preventing harm.17
To imagine that autonomy trumps all other principles ignores the reality and complexity of the moral life. An appeal to a case-based form of reasoning asks that ethical issues be considered in the context of practice. In fact, journalism has a tradition of cooperating with authorities when human life is clearly at stake.18 Cases of journalists who have altered their publication decisions when serious threats of suicide are made are easy to find. So are examples of journalists who have been successful in saving lives by giving in to terrorist demands.
These cases hardly disprove the contention of absolutists that no compromise with autonomy is possible. Indeed, giving in to threats does not always lead to the kind of positive result seen in the case of the Unabomber. The argument here is that journalists do not live in a world with only one supreme value. Above all, the protection of innocent human life is a legitimate reason to consider the sacrifice of one principle for another.
The second argument opposing publication is more compelling, in part because it puts the debate into the context of journalistic experience. Critics argue that giving in to the Unabomber will create a dangerous precedent. Two elements are intertwined in this claim. First, giving in to the Unabomber will result in more attempts by terrorists to coerce the media. Second, expectations of media cooperation with terrorists will be raised. John Honderich, publisher of the Toronto Star, articulates both sides of the argument: “It sets an awful precedent and really might encourage copycats to demand the same thing. If we get involved in that kind of blackmail, it's a bottomless pit.” 19
On their face, these arguments are compelling. Terrorists and other political extremists often have as a major goal publicity for their cause. If the media can be seen as vulnerable to coercion, incidents of terrorist threats against the media may increase. The problem for this argument is that little evidence for this effect can be found in U.S. media. Incidents in which the media have given in to threats—the Mad Bomber case in New York City in 1957, the Symbionese Liberation Army in 1974, David Koresh and the Branch Davidians in 1993—have not been followed by a quantifiable increase in similar attempts to coerce the media. The incidents are so rare that the same isolated cases keep coming up in the literature again and again.
One such case involved demands on five newspapers. In 1976 New York-based Croatian separatists exploded a bomb in New York, killing one person. They hijacked a TWA flight from New York and said a second bomb would be exploded in the United States if five newspapers did not publish a 3,500-word manifesto. All five newspapers, including the Washington Post, did. Objectors argued then, as now, that copycats demanding space would follow. For 19 years, no one did.20
The second element in the precedent argument—that expectations of media cooperation with terrorists will be raised—cannot be as easily dismissed. After all, one can hardly deny that a strategy of capitulating to terrorists, at least to some terrorists, may lead other extremists to expect similar treatment. However, this position is less powerful than it seems, for several reasons. As long as actual incidents remain rare, any negative effect of increased expectations for media cooperation will be negligible.
Moreover, media organizations are not morally bound to grant terrorists access in future cases. Terrorists cannot count on the usual moral claim of precedent—consistency or fairness—when the decision on which precedent is based was coerced, not free. A newspaper acting with a gun to its head is not morally obligated to treat future threats in the same way.
Arguments offered by journalists in favor of publishing the Unabomber manifesto are more compelling for the same reasons arguments against publication were not. Many journalists, including those at the Washington Post and the New York Times, saw the lives of others as a legitimate reason to consider publication. Publishers of both newspapers said the decision to print the manifesto was made “for public safety reasons.” 21 In other words, the journalist's moral obligations are diverse, not singular, committed to human life as well as independence.
This does not mean any threat to human life is compelling. Indeed, two critical factors emerged in the debate over the Unabomber that mark this case as a justifiable exception. The record of the Unabomber—16 bombings, 3 deaths, 23 injuries—established the willingness and the likelihood that his threats were to be taken seriously. That record sets the Unabomber apart from most of the people who attempt to coerce the media. The force of the argument for publication is teleological. That is, the argument depends on a prediction of what is likely to happen in the future. The more probable the outcome, the stronger the case is for acting upon it. As a “clear and present danger,” the Unabomber made the decision of the two newspapers justifiable.
The credibility of the threat is relevant not only to this case, but to any in which demands are made on media organizations. Assessing the threat posed by any political extremist is risky. Nonetheless, that assessment provides a rough standard or guideline for judging which cases can be ignored and which cases may be exceptions. That's exactly how Sulzberger sees the Times's decision:
Our traditional response will continue to serve us well—we notify law-enforcement officials, when appropriate, and print nothing. This case differs in the most obvious way. Here we are dealing with an individual with a 17-year record of violent actions. Hard experience proves that his threat to send another bomb to an unspecified destination must be taken absolutely seriously.22
Second, the publishers were convinced by law enforcement authorities that publication of the manifesto could aid in the apprehension of the Unabomber. Even a journalist skeptical of the decision to publish accepted the relevance of helping end the Unabomber's reign of terror. Maclean magazine editor Robert Lewis opposed publication in principle but also concluded, “if there is the possibility of capturing the terrorist or terrorists, or stopping the bombing, you have to keep an open mind.” 23 The most extensive and expensive investigation of any serial killer in the history of U.S. law enforcement had failed to unearth the Unabomber. Part of the FBI's appeal to newspaper officials was the claim that widespread dissemination of the document would provide leads to the Unabomber's identity.
That is exactly what happened. After the publication of the manifesto in the Washington Post on 19 September 1995, David Kaczynski concluded that his brother, Theodore Kaczynski, could be the Unabomber. After David and several investigators compared the text of the manifesto with samples of his brother's writing, authorities were contacted, leading to the arrest and indictment of Ted Kaczynski.24
Ironically, the success of the publication's leading to Ted Kaczynski's capture was taken as a cause for concern. Critics saw the action of the newspapers as collaboration with law enforcement. Mark Jurkowitz, ombudsman at the Boston Globe, believes one basic principle is “journalists don't get involved in the law-enforcement business.” 25 Jurkowitz's warning is well taken. Journalists need to be watchdogs, not partners, of law enforcement. However, to imagine that this claim is absolute denies once again the moral obligation to protect innocent human life.
The case of the Unabomber has led to a wide range of ethical claims. From one extreme, the decision to publish is seen as a unilateral capitulation to political extremism. “America gives in to threats,” concluded journalist Tony Allen-Mills.26 From the other extreme, the Unabomber case is seen as an example of situation ethics: “The answer changes with every minor detail,” argued Gerald Smeyak, a University of Florida journalism professor. “Never once have we come up with the same solution.” 27
Neither of these extremes does the Unabomber case justice. A case-based analysis shows that the Unabomber case was not a capitulation to all terrorists. Instead, it was a carefully limited exception to a general policy of rejecting the demands of political extremists and others who attempt to coerce the media. Examination of similar cases in the United States undermines the predictions that journalists will now be besieged by copycat extremists. Moreover, the grounds for such exceptions are defined by key features of the case: the bomber's proven record of violence, the risk to human life, the absence of other alternatives (last resort), and the increased likelihood of capture. Whatever its shortcomings, the Unabomber case has established useful guidelines for future cases, cases that, though infrequent, are sure to come.
III. The Ku Klux Klan
The Ku Klux Klan has also attempted to coerce media organizations. Efforts of Klan members to intimidate Southern editors are legendary.28 Contemporary attempts at coercing journalists by people claiming Klan membership can still be found.29 However, the real challenge for the media in coverage of the KKK is of a different kind. Manipulation, not coercion, is the order of the day.
One common form of manipulation in which the Klan has regularly participated is the creation of media events. Klan marches, such as a recent series of marches in 1995 to build membership, are certain to attract attention out of proportion to the number of Klan participants.30 The traditional news values of journalists, especially conflict, virtually guarantee that media coverage will follow. One could argue, with Klanwatch, an organization dedicated to investigating all Klan activities, that such attention given to the Klan is counterproductive, encouraging kindred souls among white supremacists and giving a hate group more publicity than it deserves. Such an argument has some weight in cases of isolated extremists whose principal source of power is media publicity.31 However, ignoring hate groups is a dangerous strategy.
More critically, it misses the main danger of Klan manipulation: masquerading. Faced with declining membership and increasing public disgust with extremist language, some Klan members masquerade not behind sheets, but behind conservative code words. The most prominent example of that is David Duke.
Duke is a former imperial wizard of the Ku Klux Klan and a Nazi sympathizer. He said he put that past behind him when he ran for public office, first as a state representative, then for the U.S. Senate, finally as a gubernatorial candidate in the state of Louisiana. Duke won his race for the legislature and seemed poised to be elected governor in 1991. A poll taken after the primary election in which Duke won the right to run against Edwin Edwards for governor showed that Duke would be likely to win.32 Duke had managed to resurrect his image among many voters at least to the point that he was viewed as a reasonable—even harmless— candidate. Claiming to have rejected his extremism, Duke even claimed conversion as a born-again Christian.
His platform was not built openly on racist language. Instead, code words like “welfare” and “affirmative action” were used to express his attitudes toward blacks. He avoided talk of segregation but instead campaigned for “neighborhood schools.” “New York” substituted as an indirect reference for Jews.33
Faced with the prospect of David Duke as governor, the New Orleans Times-Picayune made a moral choice. Objectivity and balance were abandoned for the sake of the common good. David Duke would not be covered like an ordinary political candidate; he would be seen as a hurricane, full of devastation for the state of Louisiana. As one reporter said: “Journalistically, ethically, morally, I wanted him defeated. My goal was to provide information to fair-minded people so they could vote against him.” 34
The Times-Picayune did that. In a comprehensive series of news stories and editorials during the month leading to the election, Duke was exposed. His conversion to Christianity was cast in doubt. Duke interviews were uncovered that showed Duke spouting racist talk long after his supposed abandonment of political extremism. For example, days after saying he no longer held extremist views, Duke said Jews were a plague on the white race and Rudolph Hess deserved the Nobel Peace Prize. Readers were shown how Duke's use of code words actually expressed the same racism and bigotry seen in his earlier life as a Klan member and neo-Nazi. A columnist charged that Duke was still affiliated with the Klan—the KKK's listed phone number in Metairie, Louisiana, connected you to Duke—when he ran for state legislator.35 The result of the Times-Picayune's coverage was a lopsided victory for Edwin Edwards, Duke's Democratic opponent.
The case of David Duke illustrates an important lesson in the coverage of political extremism: Benign neglect is a dangerous strategy. Keith Woods, a former city editor and editorial writer at the Times-Picayune, said that up until its intensive coverage began, Duke rarely made it into the news in the Times-Picayune. According to Woods, a key editor believed that any coverage of Duke would be to Duke's advantage, giving him a forum for his political ambitions. The experience of Louisiana proved just the opposite.
Moreover, political extremists require in-depth coverage, not superficial treatment. Simply reporting the actions and statements of extremist groups allows them to manipulate the message. Another Louisiana newspaper, the Times of Acadiana, won a national award for similar coverage of Duke's candidacy, showing how Duke embodied the Klan strategy of “disguising its agenda in carefully chosen, toned-down language.” 36 Without a commitment to burrow under the rhetoric, the media become pawns of any extremist group with sophisticated public-relations skills.
That commitment is grounded in one of journalism's most basic values: truth telling. But as Edmund Lambeth has argued, the journalist's responsibility to tell the truth is not simply limited to factual accuracy. Lambeth believes journalists must expose “concealed truth” in document searches and in-depth interviewing to get at the larger truth behind the facts. Truth is not simply factual, but contextual and social, “the currency of power in a democracy.” 37 The New Orleans Times-Picayune demonstrated how that commitment to truth telling in Lambeth's broadened definition is one of the strongest protections against the distortions and euphemisms with which political extremists attempt to manipulate the media.
From a casuistic perspective, two more lessons can be learned from the case of David Duke and the Times-Picayune. First, the context in which the Times-Picayune decided to launch a campaign against Duke's candidacy was one of crisis. The newspaper was faced with the choice: preserve its traditional neutrality in political news coverage and see Duke elected governor or sacrifice fairness in reporting for the sake of a larger common good. It chose the latter course only reluctantly. The coverage of Duke became, like the Unabomber case, an exception to the practice of fairness in political news. That exception was justified by two key relevant factors: the wellbeing of the state of Louisiana and the lack of any other institution to accomplish the task of defeating Duke. In other words, this cause was important and, because no one else could do it and the Times-Picayune had no other options, the action taken was a matter of last resort. Both factors (the importance of the cause and last resort) are common guidelines in casuistry for justifying exceptions to well-established policy.
However, the best moral alternative is to avoid sacrificing one moral principle for another. That could have happened here if the standard of reporting on Duke had been consistent from the beginning. If readers had been given from the beginning the broader truth Lambeth advocates, instead of purposely leaving Duke out of the news, the painful decision to become advocacy journalists as a last resort may not have been required.
IV. The Militias
The Ku Klux Klan and other white supremacy groups cannot be completely separated from the growing number of American militia organizations. Indeed, evidence suggests that many militia groups share the same antiblack and antisemitic views of the KKK. Members of the KKK and other white supremacy groups can be found in virtually any group on the far right. This should come as no surprise when militia groups regularly warn of the influence of liberal Jewish bankers, the threat of the so-called Zionist Occupational Government, and the danger of black elements in society.38
However, focusing on the militias highlights a different problem for the media. Although the KKK is a secret organization, it also has a history of attempting to exert influence through media-staged events, such as marches. Militias often prefer to operate in the shadows, outside the public eye. At the very least, these extremist groups communicate and recruit through communication channels outside the mainstream, unfiltered by journalists. According to a research report by the Anti-Defamation League, shortwave radio stations, dubbed the CNN of the far right, have become a cheap and popular means for disseminating extremist ideology without government control. Publications such as Spotlight carry the message of the Liberty Lobby to 100,000 subscribers. A special 1994 eight-page supplement of Spotlight promoted the conspiracy theories of the militias.39 Newsletters, fax trees, the Internet, videotapes, audiotapes, telephone hotlines, public access television, and interpersonal communication all function as means of communication for militia groups that avoid control by the mainstream media.40
Because the militias have operated outside the normal channels of reporting, media coverage of this movement in the United States has been, at best, sporadic. This is hardly surprising, given that mainstream media coverage has always been event-driven, just as it is now in cases of terrorism.41 This also explains the increased attention that the militia movement has received in the mainstream media since the dramatic confrontation with David Koresh's Branch Davidian religious group in Waco, Texas; the shoot-out with right-wing extremist Randy Weaver at Ruby Ridge, Montana; and the bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City.
Yet this coverage itself, triggered by violent events, may well create a larger problem for the media: the demonization of the militias. Without discounting the danger presented by some right-wing extremists, not all advocates of these ideologies are violent. One dominant wing—the common-law or sovereign-citizen movement—appears more interested in pursuing strategies for asserting states' rights than in fomenting violent revolution.42
More critically, because one of the standard values defining news is “unusualness,” media coverage is likely to emphasize what separates people in these groups from the rest of U.S. society. Such a conclusion may miss one of the most important truths of the militia movement: Although the Survivalist Right is both extremist and violent, the underlying ideological assumptions of the militia movement are shared by more Americans than those who link with militias. James Coates sees important ideological links to less extreme, less violent Americans.
Survivalists' murderous exploits … do not go unnoticed by the men and women who live around them in the rural pockets of the United States—people who, on the whole, were already more than intolerant and suspicious enough long before the new breed of haters surfaced. … The Survivalists are being heard right along with the cable television evangelists whose words and pictures are beamed to outstretched parabolic satellite dishes in farmyards and backyards across the land.43
One can even see in the militia movement one permutation of the unchecked individualism Robert Bellah found in middle-American life in the early 1980s.44 The ideologies of the militias and contemporary U.S. culture are linked in even more direct ways, according to analyst Garry Wills. In an article in the New York Review of Books, Wills argues that America's “New Revolutionaries” have tapped into a sea of American discontent on a number of fronts: taxation, police power, values in schools, the decline of the family, corruption in government, and attempts to limit access to guns.45 Wills wants to show that “it is hard to trace the exact line where extremism spills over into ‘mainstream’ concerns about liberty.” 46 Although most people still reject violence, key ideological tenets of the militants resonate with contemporary discontent in America: “It is no longer so ‘extreme’ to believe that our government is the greatest enemy to freedom. We see this in a new hatred of government agents (who fear for their lives in western states). Or in the unprecedented vilification of the head of our government.” 47
The disaffection of many U.S. citizens not necessarily allied to militia groups can be seen dramatically in the burgeoning county movement. Catron County, New Mexico, has been a leader in a movement that seeks to seize control of federally owned land and exercise local or state control in its place. In 1989 Catron County passed ordinances and a land-use plan that gave county commissioners the power to veto federal regulations on the use of land in the county, from timber and mining decisions to wilderness and endangered-species regulations. By late 1995, similar ordinances were passed in 30 other U.S. counties and were being considered in 40 more.48
Such movements are not unknown in the history of the United States, especially in the western reaches of the country. Yet the pervasiveness of some of the right-wing ideology is surely cause for alarm. Few people may find credible conspiracy theories pointing to a Zionist Occupational Government takeover of the United States. However, a 1986 Harris poll found that 75 percent of those polled in Iowa and Nebraska agreed that both the Reagan administration and “big international bankers” (often a code word for Jews) were responsible for farm problems. An astounding 13 percent of residents of both states agreed that “a good deal of the blame for what has happened to farmers can be laid at the doorstep of ‘certain religious groups, such as Jews for example.’” 49
Journalists must cover the violent acts of extremists. However, the bias of journalists toward events, such as terrorist acts, limits the insight the public could gain from coverage that included more information about the causes of the violence and the larger context in which it is born:
The event-centeredness of media reporting also has the effect of keeping reporters from exploring trends in social disorders in various parts of the world. As a result, audiences, including authorities, are forced to confront terrorism at the micro rather than the macro level. This makes it possible for authorities to argue that society must deal with the manifestations of social problems—that is, the acts of terrorism and their effects—rather than the social problems themselves.50
Studies have shown that the media pay little attention to the ideas and conditions that keep political extremism alive.51 So we continue to move from crisis to crisis, rather than from comprehensive coverage to understanding.
Coverage should not mask the important ways in which such movements are reflected, and in part made possible, in the environment of cynicism and distrust of government that increasingly pervades U.S. culture. In short, if journalism is a mirror of society, it must show us not only the acts of political extremists, but also those parts of ourselves that the extremists have simply taken to heart.
V. Conclusion
Three types of political extremism have been used here to illustrate three different kinds of responses/strategies to be employed by the media: threats of violence to coerce media, legal efforts to manipulate the media by extremist groups, and the rejection of mainstream media by marginalized groups. No single response, no single set of guidelines, will allow the media to handle all these cases. The most that can be done is to analyze each case on its own merits to discover what is ethically responsible behavior. This is not a concession to relativism or situation ethics, though it does acknowledge that the details of the situation make a difference—always.
Moreover, one of the key “details” that makes a difference is the conflict of ethical values. No single value, no absolutist position, answers all the moral dilemmas. The plurality of ethical values—autonomy, justice, preventing harm, and truth—make for tough pragmatic decisions as these values are given shape in concrete situations. Finally, these cases can help to define guidelines to help journalists when future cases of political extremism arise.
A great deal can be tolerated, even propaganda from terrorists, and liberal democracies will still survive. What cannot be tolerated is the failure of the media to provide citizens with comprehensive, in-depth coverage of political extremists that takes people beyond the crisis of terrorism into an understanding of it. As former Prime Minister Shimon Peres remarked at the opening of the Haifa conference (28 January 1997), the media must “investigate not the death of Rabin, but the whole process.” That kind of coverage will allow them to see propaganda for what it is, to see extremists for who they are, and to see the flaws in their own culture— and in themselves—that extremists exploit. Only that kind of coverage will protect liberal democracy against political extremism.
NOTES
1. Hastings Rashdall, The Theory of Good and Evil, 2d ed. (London: Oxford University Press, 1924), 458.
2. G. A. Starr, Defoe and Casuistry (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1971), 7.
3. A more complete accounting of casuistry's applicability to journalism can be found elsewhere. David Boeyink, “Casuistry: A Case-Based Method for Journalists,” 7 Journal of Mass Media Ethics, no. 2 (1992): 107-20.
4. Sissela Bok, Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life, 2d ed. (New York: Vintage Books, 1989), 76-86.
5. Albert Jonsen and Stephen Toulmin, The Abuse of Casuistry: A History of Moral Reasoning (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 253.
6. Ibid., 264.
7. Joseph Fletcher, Situation Ethics (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1966), 32-33.
8. Blaise Pascal, The Provincial Letters (London: Penguin, 1967).
9. David Boeyink, “Relevance: A Problem in Journalism and Ethics,” paper presented at the Association for Practical and Professional Ethics, Arlington, Va. (3 March 1995), 14-16.
10. David Boeyink, “Anonymous Sources in News Stories: Justifying Exceptions and Limiting Abuses,” 5 Journal of Mass Media Ethics, no. 4 (1990): 233-46.
11. David Boeyink, “How Effective Are Codes of Ethics? A Look at Three Newsrooms,” 71 Journalism Quarterly (Winter 1994), 893-904. See also D. Boeyink, “The Louisville Courier-Journal: A Case Study in Ethical Decision-Making,” paper presented at the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication, Atlanta (August 1994).
12. “Times and The Washington Post Grant Mail Bomber's Demand,” New York Times, 19 September 1995, sec. A, p. 1.
13. Christopher Harper, “Did the Unabomber Decision Set a Precedent?” 17 American Journalism Review (November 1995), 13.
14. “Two Messages in Print, but Guess Who Paid?” San Diego Union-Tribune, 25 September 1995, sec. B, p. 9; “Media Face a Difficult Dilemma over Terrorist's Demands for Forum,” Los Angeles Times, 27 April 1995, sec. A, p. 3.
15. “Crazed Killer Opens Media to Blackmail,” Sunday Times, 24 September 1995.
16. “Publication of Unabomber's Tract Draws Mixed Response,” New York Times, 20 September 1995, sec. A, p. 16.
17. W. D. Ross, The Right and the Good (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1930), 21.
18. Jonathan Alter, “Will It Be Publish—or Perish? Faced with the Unabomber, Journalists Should Stall and Do What Is Practical,” 126 Newsweek (10 July 1995),
19. Rae Corelli, “A Killer's Essay,” 108 Maclean's (2 October 1995), 57.
20. Alter, “Publish—or Perish?” 46.
21. “Timesand The Washington Post Grant Mail Bomber's Demand.”
22. Ibid.
23. Corelli, “A Killer's Essay,” 57.
24. “Prisoner of Rage,” New York Times, 26 May 1996, sec. 1, p. 1.
25. “Mixed Response,” New York Times, 20 September 1995, sec. A, p. 16.
26. “Crazed Killer.”
27. “Unabomber's Demand Poses Media Dilemma,” Dallas Morning News, 1 July 1995, sec. A, p. 1.
28. Dudley Clendinen, “In the South: When It Mattered to Be an Editor,” 3 Gannett Center Journal (Spring 1989), 133-51.
29. Given the secrecy of the organization, it is not always possible to know if claims of Klan ties are real. But for a contemporary example, see M. L. Stein, “Threats: San Diego Weeklies Receive Series of Hate Letters Purportedly from the Ku Klux Klan,” 126 Editor and Publisher (9 January 1993), 12.
30. On 3 June 1995, 15 Klan members were far outnumbered by counterdemonstrators, police, and, of course, media. The two rallies in the Chicago area produced extensive coverage in the Chicago Tribune. “2 Klan Rallies Mostly Peaceful, but Costly to Taxpayers,” Chicago Tribune, 4 June 1995, sec. Chicagoland, p. 3.
31. Richard Barrett, a white supremacist, calls press conferences before his rallies to trigger counterdemonstrations—and media attention—and plays to cameras and reporters. “Supremacist Anticipates Violent Rally,” Los Angeles Times, 11 September 1992, sec. Metro, part B, p. 1.
32. “4 Weeks: The Campaign the World Watched,” a reprint of the New Orleans Times-Picayune, 20 October-17 November 1991, 1.
33. Ibid., 12. This same “code word” strategy is used by other extremist groups. See James Coates, Armed and Dangerous: The Rise of the Survivalist Right (New York: Hill and Wang, 1995), 14.
34. Comment reported by Keith Woods, “A Case Study in Reporting on Ethics,” paper presented at national conference, “The Reporting of Ethics and the Ethics of Reporting,” Crystal City, Va. (4 March 1995).
35. “4 Weeks.”
36. Dorothy Giobbe, “Offensive Ads and the First Amendment,” 126 Editor and Publisher (20 November 1993), 31.
37. Edmund Lambeth, Committed Journalism, 2d ed. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992), 25-27.
38. Coates, Armed and Dangerous, 9-10.
39. Poisoning the Airwaves: The Extremist Message of Hate on Shortwave Radio (New York: Anti-Defamation League, 1996), 1.
40. Coates, Armed and Dangerous, 215.
41. Robert G. Picard, Media Portrayals of Terrorism: Functions and Meaning of News Coverage (Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1993), 86.
42. For example, see the Sovereign Citizen Resource Center (Online). Available: <http://www.caprica.com/~scrc/>.
43. Coates, Armed and Dangerous, 12.
44. Robert N. Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life (New York: Harper and Row, 1985), 142-52.
45. Garry Wills, “The New Revolutionaries,” 42 New York Review of Books (10 August 1995), 50-52.
46. Ibid., 50.
47. Ibid., 55.
48. Mark Dowie, “The Wayward West: With Liberty and Firepower for All,” Outside magazine (November 1995). online available: <http://outside.starwave.com/magazine/1195/novfea.html
49. Coates, Armed and Dangerous, 197.
50. Picard, Media Portrayals of Terrorism, 112.
51. Ibid., 86.