I had to take another look as I typed out that Facebook post Nov. 26: BREAKING CHRONICLE EXCLUSIVE. I whispered “Boom” under my breath as I added the link and clicked “Post.” I could hear a slight gasp in the back of the room from some of my classmates as they saw the post: “The ACC is suing Maryland!?” Our sports editor had the big scoop, and, within an hour, we sent the Associated Press, ESPN and Sports Illustrated scrambling for a story about how our athletic conference had soured on the departing Terrapins.
That experience, and so many others this year, has made me think more critically about the spread of information. With the Internet, the lines between article, press release, tweet and post have become irrevocably blurred, for better or for worse, and the big story often tries to be summed up in 140 characters or less. A single tweet tying a basketball chant to a deceased grandmother sent four letters to my inbox within half an hour and a request for a full page ad in the next day’s paper, all demanding that the Cameron Crazies acknowledge their alleged moral bankruptcy. For me, it was an ironic case of responding to new media by turning to old. Last week, as the investigation of the Boston bombing unfolded, the race for up-to-the-minute information spilled over into speculation, creating much deeper collateral damage than the supposed chant directed at Tyler Lewis.
Where does that put The Chronicle? We are an organization whose products— information and ideas—are derived from a process that, rightly so, emphasizes a combination of resourcefulness, deliberation and timeliness, among other things, with the goal of creating a full, accurate picture. In this world of TL;DR, where’s the opening for explanation and nuance? Granted, this attempt at a column probably hit the TL threshold many words ago, but, amid all the criticism lobbed at journalism and journalists—biased to slanderous to every “-ist” in the dictionary—there is one complaint that always gives me pause for thought: sensationalist.
To become responsible reporters, we’re trained to approach our work with candor, with neither euphemism nor exaggeration. Is there a contradiction between presenting information dispassionately and trying to draw attention to it? Bold front pages have existed forever, but the Internet has increasingly made the answer “no.” Drawing in readers from Google, Facebook and Twitter requires promotion to some degree, as my decision to use all caps would suggest.
But when Facebook posts and tweets pass for the full story, there’s a risk of losing the big picture and, worse yet, getting outright misinformation. For that reason, there’s still a need for context, development and precision to be fulfilled by a reputable outlet. Negotiating the dual aims of speed and accuracy can be tough for any reporters, including ours, but I always hope that readers click the accompanying link, read the story—even if it’s updated in cycles—and do not settle for soundbites. A responsible organization will meet a minimum threshold of facts before publishing a newsworthy item, and we are no different, despite all the “student newspaper” condescension thrown at us.
Our staff may be composed of students, but we are committed to our responsibilities as professionals, even as we get pulled by academics, relationships and life. For me, it has been a privilege, as well as a profound learning opportunity, to lead the platform for so many facts, ideas, narratives and perspectives, not only from students, but also administrators, alumni, employees, faculty, local residents and parents.
Many ideas, freely expressed and put forth in these pages, newsprint or HTML, have been widely embraced—and some soundly rejected. Yet others require deeper thought, if people are willing to give it. Let’s hope we can agree on the facts, although that can too often not be the case.
Given that my time as a student has been defined by chronicling the Duke experience, I hope that this year, The Chronicle was both a snapshot of news and commentary relevant to Duke and a permanent record for the community, incorporating the good, the bad and the rest in between.
Whether we lived up to our name is not my call to make, but yours.
Yeshwanth Kandimalla is a Trinity junior and editor-in-chief of The Chronicle. Like his predecessors, he aches with the knowledge that he will never be either again.
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