How Good Journalism Leads to Good Citizenry

Sally Mauk | News Director, Montana Public Radio

In my role as news director at Montana Public Radio, I have been covering Montana issues and politics for over 30 years. I have noticed both changes and recurring themes. One of the most important themes is how much the people who live here—whether they are natives or transplants—love Montana. And not just with affection, but with passion. Whether they are rhapsodizing about the state’s traditions, people or places, they love Montana with every fiber of their being. And that cuts across all ages, genders and political persuasions. The biggest change I have noticed is a growing disrespect and intolerance of different viewpoints, which has led to a growing disillusionment with civic and political process.

The end result is less effective governing and policy making and no one satisfied with the outcomes.

So I have been thinking a lot about how Montanans can better channel their love for the state into being better citizens. For the last dozen years I have taught a class at the UM in broadcast journalism, specifically how to be a good radio reporter. Every year at the end of the class I give what I call my final sermon. It’s basically a summary of the points I most hope my students will take away from the class. I think the qualities that make a good journalist are the same qualities that make a good citizen, and here they are:

First: Treat everyone with respect. One of the first interviews I ever did as a reporter was with a well-known white supremacist and former wizard with the KKK. Everything this man stood for was personally abhorrent to me. I came to the interview loaded for bear and not at all inclined to listen to what he had to say. I did such an awful interview that almost none of it made it to air. I learned my lesson the hard way, but I also never forgot it. Besides the ethical wisdom of the golden rule, journalists have to be respectful of people if they want access to information. No one will give you an interview if you’re rude and you will never develop the reliable sources you need to do your job. Likewise, good citizens need good information too. If you’re not listening to someone because you’ve decided they are full of it, you are being disrespectful and you might be missing something important.

If you can learn—as journalists must—to treat saints and scoundrels with the same respect, you’ll be amazed at what you can learn and how useful it will be.

Second: Do your homework. Most issues are not black and white—they are several shades of gray and very complex. I’ve been covering the wolf issue in Montana ever since the first wolves were introduced from Canada. The first wolf I ever saw, in fact, was in a crate at the Missoula airport. The wolf had been temporarily stranded en route to its new home. It was accompanied by a federal wolf biologist and a Nez Perce spiritual leader. None of us could know then how big a deal the reintroduction would become, but we did know it was historic. I will never forget the wild smell of the wolf and the combination of fear and thrill I felt. I’m positive, after covering this issue for decades, I could persuasively argue all sides of the wolf management debate, and I say persuasively because all sides have valid points.

It is a complex issue.

Most of us assume we know more than we really do because we have a strong opinion about many things. Good journalists know they can’t afford that arrogance, and neither can good citizens. The more you know and the more humble you are about what you don’t know, the better able you are to act appropriately and make the right decisions. Be a sponge instead of a squirt gun. Make the effort to learn not just the surface of something but the nuanced messy depth of it.

Third: Learn from your experience. When you make a mistake, figure out what happened and why. When you do something great, figure out what happened and why. Absorbing deserved criticism or enjoying a big pat on the back come with the territory of being a journalist who usually has thousands of people judging what we do every day. But feeling the pain of getting a fact wrong or a name mispronounced shouldn’t be the end of it. Why did I get the fact wrong? How do I avoid repeating the mistake? We’re not in fact doomed to repeat history—but that’s only if we are paying attention. And if the story got great reception, after you finish basking in your well-deserved glory, ask what was so great about it. Why did people connect to it and go out of their way to comment? What did I do right that I should do again?

2000 was a terrible year for forest fires in Montana, with hundreds of thousands of acres burned, most of them in the southern Bitterroot Valley. I spent most of August that year on the fire lines. National media sent reporters out as well. I’ll never forget one reporter from a national network who did all of her interviews with the fire information officer in the fire camp while her camera man went out to the fire lines to get the hot video. I was on the fire lines, too, interviewing the grunts who dig the line that eventually stops the fire’s advance. It’s dirty, hot, smoky, dangerous work. That night, I watched the national TV reporter’s story. It had great video, but it did not tell the story of the firefighting as well as my story did. With the sound of the firefighters’ pulaskis digging into the topsoil, their chain saws felling the trees, and most importantly, their exhausted, raspy voices reflecting the arduous work of putting out the fire, I learned you have to have first-hand accounts to get a first rate story. Pay attention to what works and what doesn’t, so you can build a repertoire of skills that can become your intellectual and emotional muscle memory.

Fourth and last, but hardly least: Credibility is everything. Journalists who aren’t credible have short careers. Citizen activists who aren’t credible do, too—at least if they truly want to have a positive impact. I wish I didn’t know so many activists—of all stripes—who would rather win the battle and lose the war, because they don’t care if they jeopardize their credibility. They will lie or fudge the facts to win. The most effective citizens are the most trusted. The power of trust as an agent for change cannot be over-estimated.

When I first covered the Montana legislature in the 1980s, there was a farmer from Harlem named Frances Bardanouve. He had a cleft palate and was hard to understand. But when he spoke, everyone listened. People on both sides of the aisle paid attention to Frances because they knew he would treat them with respect, that he had done his homework, that he had tons of experience, and that he was completely trustworthy. Frances loved Montana with all his heart, and he was a fantastic citizen. This year the Montana legislature named a wing in the Capitol after Frances, honoring his legacy. I think what Frances most deserves for a legacy—and would most want—is that we would all try to be that kind of citizen too.

The future is going to be more, not less, challenging. Montana needs good journalists—and good citizens—who can turn their passion for this beautiful state into building a great future.