Does Anonymous=Trouble?

About a year ago, my publication started posting reader comments about our work online, directly below all pieces posted on the Web site. The comments are anonymous. My editors thought the function would drive traffic to our Web site, stirring up excitement about otherwise mundane stories about the school budgets and tax assessments.

Since we're in the First Amendment business, this seemed to be a good idea. My direct phone number and e-mail address already appear in the paper and online, and the occasional critical letter to the editor about my work appears on the editorial page. What's the difference, really?

At first, it was fun. It was amazing to scroll to the end of your story and get instant feedback, good and bad. A few times, I got genuinely good story ideas, as readers suggested a different angle or framing for a piece I'd written. People often posted questions, seeking follow-up, and it gave me a sense of what people wanted to know in my next piece.

But my beat is one of the less controversial at my publication. People who write about violent crime, drug busts and court cases got a much different reaction online. In one case, a man accused of sexually abusing a child was acquitted. For weeks, the comment wars raged on past the life of the story, with his supporters and detractors defending and accusing him.

I wondered, what is this like for this man? His family? The child's family? Terrible enough an innocent person had their reputation damaged through the charges and following trial. But instead of the story disappearing the day after his acquittal, it lives on, posted in our "most popular" story queue. While reporters and editors obsess over every detail to include or discard from a story, readers could fling any accusation onto the Web site. We have a mechanism to report any profane or inappropriate postings, but sometimes there is a lag between posting and removal.

One day, I had to cover a woman's suicide. We do not write about suicide unless it happens in a public place with witnesses. Sadly, the woman jumped from an Interstate 95 overpass into a river, and it involved a high-profile rescue attempt with multiple drivers calling 911. I wrote a short news piece, and posted it the same day on our Web site. Within the hour, several people had posted, making derogatory, cruel comments about the then-unidentified woman. I was stunned. Are we really that callous as a society, to make jokes about a person whose suffering was so great she leapt from a 90ft bridge? Didn't readers know this woman's family might eventually read their comments? The comment function was quickly disabled for that story.

I thought about all of this when I was driving home from class yesterday, listening to NPR's On the Media. It aired a piece about this very issue.
http://www.onthemedia.org

Click on "Comments on Comments." It's short -- six and a half minutes.

On the Media interviewed an editor at The Roanoke Times, an excellent paper, which supports the use of anonymous comments. The editor said people who fear for their job can shed light on an incident or story angle that has been overlooked by the paper. She used teachers as an example. I agree, this is when comments are most useful, when the postings are like a bulletin board. It's a mix of civil reaction and news, as well as criticism of our coverage.

I get squeamish when the criticism veers toward judgment. Not judgment of my work or the paper, but my sources. During On the Media, Ira Glass, producer of the public radio show "This American Life," describes an incident where online posts about a story on runaway teenage girls turned ugly. People had started calling the girls terrible names, and the show eventually had to take the posts down. Glass said he feared the online comments would have a chilling effect on future sources. "We felt like it was an act of bad faith with our interviewees. We don't need to create a forum for the audience to express their mean-hearted opinions about people who open themselves up to us and to them. There's just no reason for that. We don't have to endorse that by giving it a space," Glass said.

I share his fear. Why should people talk to me, when they know they will be subjected to what's essentially open season in the public square, where people can lob rotten fruit from their laptop, or worse, hate speech? As a former education reporter, I'm especially worried about comments on stories that involve children and teenagers. Is it ethical to expose children to this possibility, when their parents think they are submitting to a fun feature on their child's trip to a spelling bee, or athletic competition?

I don't see the public going back to an online world without comments. So newspapers will need to find a way to keep them, with limits. Newspapers hold power-brokers accountable with stories and editorials, and shouldn't the public have the same right? At the same time, as long as we don't print certain things in the newspaper, we should hold our online contributors to similar standards.

50 Ways to Love Your Country

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”
-Anthropologist Margaret Mead, 1901-1978

As I read MoveOn.Org’s 50 Ways to Love Your Country, this quote came to mind again and again, attributed to anthropologist Margaret Mead. MoveOn’s book is the action plan to match her sentiment. In 2003, the online organization issued a call to members for personal stories of political activism. MoveOn got more than 2,500 replies. They have culled the top 50 stories here, including entries from former Vice President Al Gore, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi and author Gail Sheehy. Each entry is one to three pages long, and concludes with bullet points from MoveOn summarizing how to follow in the author’s footsteps, whether you want to write a letter to the editor or hold a fundraiser in your home. The writing is clear, crisp and jargon–free, since most of the entries are written by people who had little experience with the press or politics before their involvement with MoveOn.

A typical entry is the story of Naomi Warren, 22, of Indiana. Warren describes how she volunteered to meet with Indiana Sen. Richard Lugar, a Republican, despite being an ardent Democrat. She attended the session as a representative of MoveOn, and was surprised by the receptiveness of Lugar’s staff to her point of view. “I left the meeting feeling more empowered than I had in many months, if not years,” Warren writes. “It seemed like such a simple act—after all, we had only contacted one of our legislators. And yet, those contacts prove incredibly powerful. Indeed, they make a great difference.”

Several stories in the book are truly inspiring. A Texas lawyer challenges powerful Republican incumbent Rep. Tom Delay in a primary, forcing the congressman to appear at debates and offer his position on issues. Kristen Breitweiser lost her husband in the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. She lobbied legislators for months on Capitol Hill until there was enough support for a 9/11 Commission. Other stories are simple acts of passion. A California mother of three carves out time to make 20 phone calls a day to strangers, urging them to oppose the 2003 gubernatorial recall election. A New Hampshire woman continues to write an op-ed column for her newspaper, despite being out of step with local opinion.

The tactics in this book can be applied to any organization’s advocacy efforts. Want to write a letter to the editor? Write short sentences and pay attention to the publication’s word limit, according to Gary Porter, 57, of Ann Arbor, Mich. No goal is too lofty for MoveOn. A reader can dip their toes into the political waters by volunteering for a campaign or working a phone bank, or they can initiate a constitutional amendment. MoveOn tells readers how to do both.

Above all, the book shows how the Internet and political Web sites like MoveOn have made it easy for one person to spur others to action. Passionate about a candidate, and want to tell your friends? Fire off your “political picks” in a mass e-mail to your entire address book each Election Day, like Michael Rosenthal, 48, of California. Alert the media to uncovered events by developing media lists and writing press releases at home, easily delivered to hundreds of news outlets through e-mail. That’s what Mary Rickard, 51, of Chicago did when she felt the mainstream media was ignoring an upcoming Federal Communications Commission vote on media ownership. Online petitions drafted in the middle of the night and sent to a few friends have resulted in hundreds of thousands of signatures. The book begins with an introduction from MoveOn executive director Peter Schurman, who says the Internet has freed the public from the dominance of the media and business elite. "Thousands of voices can come together quickly online and count heavily with legislators, who often hear nothing from constituents but a lot from paid lobbyists," Schurman writes.

For public relations professionals, this book reminds us to ignore no one. We should return every call and take every e-mail and letter seriously. Roughly a third of the stories in the book stem from an incident where a person’s input was derided. Instead of giving up, the negative experience fueled the person’s quest. Many entries have sentences similar to the one in Jerilyn Fay Kelle’s story, titled “Defy City Hall.” Kelle approached a county commissioner with concerns about a dangerous road, and was treated shabbily. “Ironically, if he had tried to reassure or appease me, I might have dropped the issue. Instead, infuriated, I wrote letters to several local newspapers,” Kelle writes. The story does not end well for the county commissioner. The book’s unintentional lesson is that organizations need to engage in issues management, even with their harshest critics. The Internet and groups like MoveOn have made it easier for one person’s dissatisfaction to spread, rapidly.

MoveOn has a strong point of view. The presence of stories from Gore and Pelosi underscore the group’s connection to the Democratic Party, and many of the book’s entries are related to political acts that oppose Republican candidates and ideas. A conservative reader can apply the same MoveOn strategies to win their battles, but it might be a tiring read. Overall, though, the book is the perfect starter guide for anyone seeking to enhance their civic and political life. As Nancy Pelosi tells the reader: “Know thy power.”

Comcast Fights Back, One Person at a Time

The next time I have a problem with my cable service, it might be faster to skip the customer service line. Apparently, Comcast is more responsive to people posting on their blogs:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/25/technology/25comcast.html?hp

I thought this was an interesting read, especially after finishing The New Influencers. Comcast has its share of PR challenges (see http://comcastmustdie.com/) but the article discusses the company's attempt to monitor and engage critics online, as Gillin recommends.

Fundraising in Facebook

The largest check I ever wrote to a charity was the week after Sept. 11, 2001. I sent the equivalent of half my rent to the American Red Cross. Many Americans did the same. The Red Cross raised more than $1 billion in the weeks after the terrorist attacks.

There, I thought, slipping the envelope in the mailbox. I helped. I did something physical, tangible.

But now I wonder, why the Red Cross? I had done no research on the organization. I had no idea how my money would be spent, although I assumed it would be given to the victims' families. Where did I get the address? CNN? How did I buy groceries the rest of the month?

The donation was emotional, and convenient. The decision-making system I normally used for financial matters was overruled. People had died, and I had watched it unfold on TV. It would've been harder to choose not to donate, and the Red Cross was the most prominent aid group in the days after the attacks.

I thought about this after I read an article in Monday's Wall Street Journal about online charitable giving. (http://atlanticphilanthropies.org/news/news/charity_cases) It described how social networks Facebook and MySpace let individuals and groups make personal appeals for money, which increases the odds of a donation. Actor Kevin Bacon started a site, sixdegrees.org, that helps nonprofits and individuals (including celebrities) raise funds for charities or a personal cause.

Nonprofit leaders quoted in the article predicted mixing online payment and social networking sites will make it easier for Americans to donate money. There’s no stamp to find, no check to write, and you know where the money is headed—to your aunt, your co-workers or college roommate. Plus, everyone in your network can see you made a donation, a social bonus.

If my kitchen table is an indication, I think this argument is spot-on. There, I have amassed a small pile of solicitations from worthy organizations over the past six months, along with their accompanying gift of personalized mailing labels. I want to donate to these groups, but I never quite get around to it. Does that make me a poor citizen, or just a disorganized one? The AdCouncil has an entire campaign directed at people like me (http://www.dontalmostgive.org).

Personally, I would be more likely to donate to these groups if they stopped mailing the labels, and sent me an e-mail. There, with an unmissable “donate” link, I could draft money immediately from my checking account, just as I do when J. Crew has a sale. In the Wall Street Journal article, one industry expert floats the idea of putting pitches at the end of movies with a social message. So at the end of, say, Hotel Rwanda, people in the theater could text money to refugee support groups using their cell phones. Nonprofit groups can capitalize on people who, like me, unfortunately have bursts of interest rather than deep, sustained commitment.

As much as I understand the concept of the altruistic impulse buy from my Sept. 11 experience, I wonder if this is a wholly positive trend for nonprofit organizations. Is it better to raise extra money from donors contributing on a whim, or a committed pool of people who support your mission, especially when you need to pay for mundane office items, like the electricity bill? Nonprofits need people who care enough to turn off the TV and locate their checkbook.

I’ve only given money to the Red Cross twice (although they’ve accepted a fair amount of my blood). And donors like me are wreaking havoc on the organization. According to a January 2008 New York Times article, the American Red Cross has cut administrative staff because bad–weather donors who open their wallets for natural disasters insist that their donations be used for the victims of that incident, and those victims alone.(http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/16/us/16charity.html?scp=14&sq=american%20red%20cross%20donors&st=cse). I think online donations using social networking sites will likely exacerbate this situation. Nobody wants their donation to pay for staples, but, in life, that’s what holds things together.

Welcome

Hello! Although this blog is a class requirement, I will check in several times a week with thoughts on public relations, online media and journalism. I'll try to keep it centered on PR and online advocacy, but as a news junkie, I may stray into news-related subjects. (Although never related to my beat, since officially, I have no opinion about anything). Thanks for reading! 

Chandra Levy

I just put down the first chapter in the Post's serial package on the 2001 disappearance and murder of Washington intern Chandra Levy. It was gripping. It held me through the last sentence, and I was frustrated the first day's chapter was so short -- generally, not a complaint of newspaper readers. I expect this will be another blockbuster Post narrative piece. But I wonder if there will be criticism, too. How many unsolved murder cases exist where the victim was a young, single woman in Washington? Five? Twenty? I hope the upcoming stories give readers a scope of the investigative challenges in all murder cases in DC, not just Levy's. 

Then again, our culture is drawn to celebrities. Like me, thousands of readers dropped everything this morning to read about Levy, who was dating a married congressman when she died. If that results in better crime scene tactics that benefit all victims, is that a bad outcome? 

The story ultimately resonated with me in a personal way. As a runner, I can't help but think of how frightened she must have been on the trail. After they found her in 2002, with a walkman nearby, I stopped listening to music when I ran outdoors alone. A newspaper can only do so much, but I hope the series is the beginning of justice for Levy, who should've had thousands of miles of running ahead of her.