and logical analysis, it is that of the ethics of journalism. The "codes" so far formulated, are only a basis—a sound basis, it is to be hoped—for much further study and discussion, leading finally to treatises, much more complete, upon the actual practices accepted by the profession.
Ethical Dilemmas of the Working Journalist
A few problems, easy perhaps to closet philosophers, but still extremely puzzling to the working journalist, may be cited to demonstrate the need of ethical study and teaching.
What is the highest duty of the press in time of war—a great war, believed to be a righteous war, a war dangerous to the very existence of the nation? "Tell the unvarnished truth as I see it," replies one, and if he sees the truth in unpopular aspects he loses his paper and perhaps his liberty. "Anything to help win the war," says another extremist. Most editors in the last few years have stood on middle ground, some toward one limit and some toward the other, leaving the public confused as to what to believe in the papers, and more than ever inclined to doubt the integrity of the press.
The Oregon Code, like all the journalistic codes published to this time, is emphatic throughout in its emphasis upon the importance of telling all the truth; yet the qualification enters inconspicuously in various connections that "if the public or social interest demands"—decidedly not the personal or commercial interest of the publisher or editor—suppression is allowable.
What does this mean?
What does it mean in case of a second-rate war, or a third-rate war with Haiti or Santo Domingo? What does it mean in such a struggle as that in the northwest in which the Non-partisan League is involved? Or when communism threatens what most editors consider the social and public interest? Even the struggle between parties, far less bitter than of old, may still supply honest editors with doubts. The editor's conception of the "public or social interest" is an element that it seems dangerous to leave in the code or to take out. Is it, after all, or will it in time become, his duty to tell the truth though the heavens, in his judgment, will fall?
A code must not legislate. There is no organized body in journalism that has sufficient prestige to speak for the profession or greatly to influence its practices. Yet newspapers vary from the honest and courageous to the supine, and a code can set as a minimum the best practices of the profession, and as the optimum the state of perfect knowledge, perfect good will and perfect courage. And in both its aspects, the disowning of inferior practices and the setting up of an ideal, the code can become a constructive influence in the profession.
The editor's belief as to what constitutes "public and social interest" can be affected only by the gradual moralization and rationalization of all society, by education of the young newspapermen and by logical criticism. For his informed judgment no written rule can be substituted. But more, truth and much less concern with immediate results seems to be the path of progress.
If a code could legislate, there is one problem of modern journalism, greatly intensified since the War, upon which a code maker would be tempted to try his hand. It is serious enough, perhaps, to attract the interest of the state, but there is little probability that any existing legislative body would adopt sound views upon the subject. It is that of propaganda.
