Every moment on this fine planet of ours is an explosion of activity. At any point in time, hundreds of millions of voices are clamoring for attention, and in this information age, more of them than ever can be heard. The average human does not have the time, the connections, or the expertise to discern the important stories of the world from raw data, and that’s why we turn to newspapers—far-reaching funnels that collect the useful bits and feed them to the public.
Reporters and editors are the filters that pick the gems out from the garbage. Thus, the editorial staff of a newspaper wields a great deal of power. It not only has the capacity to bring things to the forefront but also to leave a story in anonymity. The press has the unique ability to shape the opinion of the masses, leading to the coinage of the term “Fourth Estate” during the French Revolution. The newspapers were entities that didn’t derive their authority from lineage, religion, or money, but that could control popular opinion nonetheless.
A good journalist must exercise his discretionary ability, because he is not just a conduit of information—he is a purveyor of truths. Not all stories are created equal. Some are more important than others, and some, quite frankly, are distractions from what really happened. A newspaper gives its readers a window to a reality of its own making, and it’s the editor’s job to ensure that that reality is as accurate as it can be.
Paradoxically, in order to be reputable, a journalist has no choice but to tint that window. Credibility in media relies not only on truthfulness, but on balance as well—even in situations where there is little balance to be had. The lead-up to this month’s general election was an excellent example of this phenomenon: Any media outlet that investigated or reported even the most relevant aspects of one candidate risked public outcry from the political machine if it didn’t give the opposition equal time in the spotlight.
Therein lies the predicament of the press: An editor is often forced to contradict the reality he believes to be true—not by reporting incorrectly, but by not reporting at all. He must oppose himself knowingly, and willingly, in the name of good journalism. Editorials allow him some freedom, but even there he must restrain himself so as to preserve the neutrality of his publication as a whole.
No newspaper of record is free from this burden, although some manage it better than others. Ironically, the only institutions that can avoid this altogether are the ones that make absolutely no claim of journalistic integrity. Comedy Central’s The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and The Colbert Report are two examples of this—television “news” programs whose only stated goal is to entertain. Interspersed with their ridiculous satire are truly biting intellectual commentaries that would never see the light of day if subjected to the strict bonds of neutrality.
So an editor is faced with a choice. He can sacrifice credibility by presenting the truth as he sees it, or he can pander to his audience and lie by omission. If he does the former, he risks offending his readers and losing his ability to get source material, but if he does the latter, can he truly wave a banner of integrity? Even the best reporter will one day face a decision that will damn him to journalistic hell no matter what his choice.
For my part, I have walked on both sides of the fence. I have always aspired to drive The Poly towards the truth—the whole truth—and I am proud of my staff for doing their best to uphold that impossible standard of honesty. Sometimes we have stumbled, often for no reason other than a lack of resources. There have been other occasions, however, when we have felt the chilling effect of the real world, and I’ve been forced to try and hide the truth amongst lesser truths. Looking back, it has been a sobering experience—not one that I regret, but certainly one I will be pondering for years to come.
Now, though, it is time to set down my overly dramatic editor’s pen. The next issue of The Poly will hit campus the week following Thanksgiving, and its arrival will herald the start of a new chapter in our history. There will be a new editor and a fresh Editorial Board, and the staff probably won’t look anything like the one that I have had the honor and privilege of overseeing. With that will come changes—different ideas, new attitudes, and varying opinions. I’ve heard some truly wonderful concepts floating around, and I look forward to joining the campus in watching the paper grow to new heights and in new ways.
As for myself, it is time to fade into the background, still contributing to The Poly in whatever ways I can, but far removed from administrative responsibility (something that I’m sure my advisor will appreciate). Interacting with the campus as editor has been one of the most remarkable, and I daresay best, experiences of my life, and before I go, I want to thank everyone for that wonderful opportunity.
To my editors and staff: You have been both dedicated workers and outstanding friends, and it has been a pleasure serving with you, even through the long nights of production and seemingly endless meetings. If I had the space here to sing your praises and publicly embarrass each of you individually, I would, but—alas—my longwinded ramble has saved you from that fate. Nevertheless, you are truly unsung heroes of this campus, and I can’t sufficiently express my gratitude for all that you have done.
To the students, staff, professors, and administrators who have suffered through interviews, cross-examinations, rants, and perhaps even the occasional stinging editorial: Thank you for your patience, your understanding, and your encouragement through it all. Your help has allowed us to do our jobs in covering this campus; without you, we would be left floundering like fish without water. Through thick and thin, you give us the resources we need, but we rarely give you the credit you deserve. So, for myself and on behalf of my staff, thank you for all that you do.
Finally, to our readers: It is because of you that we still exist; without you, The Poly would be meaningless. I have no illusions that we are universally loved or even that most people read much farther than our comics pages. Whenever I do see people picking up a copy or sharing a story with friends, however, it reminds me of why I’ve spent so much of my time working here, and I know I’m not alone amongst my staff in that regard. Thank you for your readership, and for your comments, praise, and even complaints. We take them all to heart, and we appreciate every bit of it.
And with that, once again, I say a heartfelt thank you, and goodbye.
