I did not save any opinions for a book

I at first disagreed with the criticism that investigative journalist Bob Woodward should have gone public right away with Donald Trump’s taped interview comments about the deadliness of the coronavirus in early February.  Instead, Woodward held them for publication in his book “Rage.”

The claim is that Woodward would have saved lives if the public knew Trump was lying when he repeatedly downplayed the danger during the virus’ early stages in this country. But after three-plus years of relentless conning and fabricating, I don’t think people still trusting Trump for health information would have believed Woodward anyway. Even with Trump on tape (“It’s fake!”). I doubt an audio snippet could have changed their behavior or the consequences. 

People assessing the threat based on a broader view of the evidence, not just on Trump’s portrayal, had plenty of other indicators – media stories, statements by other government officials, shutdowns in China – that the virus was serious business. They didn’t need a sneak peek of “Rage” to know to protect themselves.

But a related piece of Woodward’s book reporting, if known sooner, could have made a difference, a point insightfully offered on CNN on Thursday by Dr. Michael Saag, a professor of medicine and infectious diseases at UAB.

Saag contracted COVID-19 after he picked up his son in the virus hotspot of New York for a car ride back to Birmingham in early March. Neither knew the son was infected. The focus of their precautions was on avoiding dangerous contact with others, he said. They didn’t focus on the possibility of transmission by air. “That was at a time in early March when we weren’t 100 percent sure about aerosols. I wish I had known that because we would have worn masks and we would have kept the windows cracked…. We were thinking transmission by contact back then. It wasn’t right.”

Yet Trump told Woodward in early February, presumably based on government data and intelligence not available publicly, that the virus for certain spreads by air.

Bob Woodward

Woodward argues that everything the president told him about the virus was already known at the time. He also argues, more persuasively, that he needed time to confirm the truthfulness of the president’s statements. Still, he accomplished that by May. And probably, if the reporter had passed along his information to associates at The Washington Post, as he has done before, a team of reporters could have nailed it down even sooner. (One other time, though, Woodward apologized for not sharing a discovery with The Post.)

A more immediate revelation, of course, blows up the remarkable access that Woodward gained to Trump and other insiders based on the concept and timeline of a book. And that would be a notable loss, for heavily reported books that go deeper and portray a bigger picture over time shed light that the daily grind of stories cannot. “Rage,” which comes out on Tuesday, may be especially valuable as an exceptionally penetrating view of the Trump presidency just two months before the most consequential presidential election in many decades.

Journalists at major news organizations often want to write books that piggyback on their daily work. Organizations let them, including granting long stretches of book leave, because it adds credibility and prestige to their bylines, and because if they don’t, a prized staff member might jump to somewhere else that does. Usually, the writer and organization management have an understanding that significant news uncovered for a book should get offered first for publication on regular platforms. But books will never sell if they’re just rehash. Judgments about grey areas are constant.

“You just breathe the air, and that’s how it’s passed.”

— Donald Trump to Bob Woodward on Feb. 7

The cost of delayed reporting is lower when revelations involve the important but still standard behind-the-scenes decision making and politics that characterize many of the books by journalists and former government officials these days. When the unearthed news is an actionable health or safety warning in the moment, though, the stakes don’t go any higher.

The president’s dishonesty aside, we didn’t need to hear a tape recording to know seven months ago to brace for a probable epidemic in this country. But knowing of airborne transmission is vital to defending against it, both now and then. It’s vital enough that neither the president nor a reporter should have withheld it.

This blog post is excellent, according to sources

President Trump claims The Atlantic “made up” its aghasting Thursday night report that the president has privately referred to dead American soldiers as “losers” and “suckers.” The magazine didn’t, as shown by subsequent confirmations by The Associated Press and other outlets. But it’s harder to refute claims of falseness when, as was the case here, a news organization relies solely on anonymous sources.

“These weak, pathetic, cowardly background ‘sources’ do not have the courage or decency to put their names to these false accusations because they know how completely ludicrous they are,” a former deputy White House press secretary tweeted Thursday night. Even some members of mainstream media, while praising The Atlantic’s reporting, called on the sources in the story to come forward.

Journalists have debated the ethics of this kind of attribution forever. They’ve also used it forever. The slam against unnamed sources is that they deprive readers of the ability to judge a report’s credibility for themselves. Further, the practice eliminates accountability for a source who speaks untruthfully or distorts information for a hidden personal or political agenda. Another flashing caution is that some of the audience doesn’t even understand what they’re seeing. A 2018 survey by the Media Insight Project reported that almost one-third of respondents believe not even the journalists themselves know the names of their “anonymous” sources (which is why “unnamed” or “confidential” is a better label). 

The compelling counterargument is that without confidential sources, some essential stories would never get published. Often, a source demands confidentiality in exchange for information not because of cowardice or nefarious motives but because of a legitimate concern over retaliation.

The clashing benefits and harms necessitate that news outlets set criteria for when they’ll use confidential sources. This is a typical checklist:

• A source’s information is a vital part of a story the public needs to know.

• The story contains multiple firsthand sources giving consistent accounts. The higher the source count, the better. (The Atlantic’s story relied on four, though not for every revelation.) 

• A source does not have a history of inaccuracy.

• There’s no way to report the story without confidential sources.

In addition to criteria for use, there are best practices:

• Assess a source’s motive. Is it apparently self-interest or public interest? (Still, I’d argue that motive is irrelevant if the information is true.)

• Don’t readily agree to confidentiality. Seek to persuade otherwise. (Some journalists don’t do this enough.)

• If sources insist on confidentiality, describe them as specifically as the sources will allow without identifying them. Readers can better judge credibility with an attribution such as “a senior FBI official who has seen the document” than an attribution such as “sources familiar with the situation.” (Again, some journalists don’t do this enough.)

• Tell readers why sources won’t allow publication of their names.

The criteria for use, obviously, are subjective. Which is why reliance on unnamed sources is rampant and sometimes excessive, especially in stories datelined Washington, D.C. The New York Times, for instance, reckoned with its overuse of such attribution following two significant errors by toughening standards in 2016. The Times, of course, was the foremost organization that allowed unnamed officials in the George W. Bush administration to build a phony case that Saddam Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction, leading to a costly war in Iraq.

More recently, CNN was reminded of the danger of deviating from the customary requirement of multiple sources. Three journalists resigned in 2017 after publishing a not-ready article about a Congressional investigation into Trump’s Russian connections that was based on a single unidentified source. A retraction, editor’s note and apology followed.

The Atlantic article is a justified and valuable use of confidential sources. It’s justified because with the Trump administration’s history of retribution, this story likely never surfaces without protection for the individuals telling it. It’s valuable not only as another brutal portrayal of the character of a president seeking re-election, but also as probable insight into significant decisions such as Trump’s inaction on Russian bounties for American military lives.

Withholding identities does make some of the audience wonder if they can trust what they are reading in a story. But I’d argue that the public still can assess its trust on a larger scale: They can decide whether a news outlet’s reputation reassures them (or doesn’t) that the story wouldn’t be there if it were less than ironclad.

The Trump administration is the most audacious and consequential example of certain governments at all levels that engage in actions detrimental to the public, then seek to cloak them with secrecy, propaganda and punishment of internal dissent. In such climates, confidential sources that meet exacting criteria are an imperative tool to find the stories the public deserves to know. Not knowing is so much worse.