The full grovel

Byron Calame, public editor of the New York Times, addresses his newspaper's role in publishing leaked classified information about the NSA's surveillance program. As the Department of Justice has launched an investigation of the probably criminal leaking and possibly criminal publication of the data, interest in the matter could not be higher.

Shockingly enough, his superiors stonewall him when it comes to explaining why they waited a year to publish the revelations. Moreover, their story about the actual time interval of the delay has certain inconsistencies. Usually, when those under investigation for possible criminal activity clam up and issue conflicting statements, it is time for serious journalists committed to protecting the public interest to dig all the deeper, in the common journalistic conviction that stonewalls and inconsistencies are sure signs of something rotten.

Unless, of course, the issuers of the inconsistencies and erecters of the stonewall happen to sign the paycheck of the intrepid public editor....

Does Calame resign in the face of his management's stonewall? Does he question the public impact of the leak of secrets? Does he consider the point of view of those who argued against printing the leaked secrets?

Not a bit of it.

Instead, Calame basically rationalizes his bosses' refusal to provide him with information (they just be protecting their sources), and adopts the framework of the anti—war moonbats: why wasn't these secrets published in time to swing the presidential election of 2004?

In other words, after hitting a stonewall, he continues forward motion in a full grovel.

It is time to add a new word to Byron Calame's title. No longer does 'public editor' suffice. It should be 'public relations editor.'

Mediacrity has similar thoughts on the matter. 

Thomas Lifson  1 01 06

Byron Calame, public editor of the New York Times, addresses his newspaper's role in publishing leaked classified information about the NSA's surveillance program. As the Department of Justice has launched an investigation of the probably criminal leaking and possibly criminal publication of the data, interest in the matter could not be higher.

Shockingly enough, his superiors stonewall him when it comes to explaining why they waited a year to publish the revelations. Moreover, their story about the actual time interval of the delay has certain inconsistencies. Usually, when those under investigation for possible criminal activity clam up and issue conflicting statements, it is time for serious journalists committed to protecting the public interest to dig all the deeper, in the common journalistic conviction that stonewalls and inconsistencies are sure signs of something rotten.

Unless, of course, the issuers of the inconsistencies and erecters of the stonewall happen to sign the paycheck of the intrepid public editor....

Does Calame resign in the face of his management's stonewall? Does he question the public impact of the leak of secrets? Does he consider the point of view of those who argued against printing the leaked secrets?

Not a bit of it.

Instead, Calame basically rationalizes his bosses' refusal to provide him with information (they just be protecting their sources), and adopts the framework of the anti—war moonbats: why wasn't these secrets published in time to swing the presidential election of 2004?

In other words, after hitting a stonewall, he continues forward motion in a full grovel.

It is time to add a new word to Byron Calame's title. No longer does 'public editor' suffice. It should be 'public relations editor.'

Mediacrity has similar thoughts on the matter. 

Thomas Lifson  1 01 06