For more than four decades I have been a fierce critic of the standards, or lack thereof, that prevail in too many outlets for American journalism. I’ve always written that journalists should do a better job of self-policing.
In that light, count me guilty of an unfairness — not a major one but still notable, in an April column here called “Garret Graves dug his own political resting place.”
Nobody asked me, much less pressured me, to pen this mea culpa, but four weeks of a nagging regret impel me to do so.
Graves, of course, is one of Louisiana’s six members of the U.S. House of Representatives. My column exposited what I considered a common theme, namely political pettiness, in two different controversies involving Graves. I detailed reports, which he less-than-convincingly says are misconstrued, that he essentially lobbied to oppose the bid of his fellow Louisiana Republican Steve Scalise for the House speakership. And I criticized him for what I considered an absurd explanation for his refusal to support aid for Ukraine. There also were several other instances that I didn’t fully recount where I found myself less than impressed with Graves’ actions or attitudes.
My column came out hot and harsh. And to this day, I think my tone and content specifically regarding those two circumstances were appropriate.
The problem, though – and the violation of journalistic best practices – came in my opening and closing paragraphs.
For years I have complained when journalists reach sweeping judgments that are not justified by the actual content of the report or column in which they are made. Upon reflection, I committed that same infraction when writing about Graves. I extrapolated too much from two individual incidents (combined with general impressions, not fully developed, of other Graves actions or attitudes).
The result was unfair to Graves. What should have been a sharp but focused criticism turned into a more widespread condemnation. To wit:
My lead paragraph read like this: “U.S. Rep. Garret Graves is fighting for his political life in a redistricting battle, but it may be no great loss if he fails. He has turned out to be a major waste of potential [emphasis added].” That second sentence was too broad a judgment to draw from too few incidents. Graves has a reputation as a diligent worker and as an oft-careful parser of policy details. Whether he has “wasted that potential” in the course of his service overall is a subject I never addressed and an assertion I certainly didn’t prove, or even make persuasively.
After that opening, I homed in on the two subjects discussed earlier, and made my case against his actions as strongly as I could. I stand by that case. Then, though, I ended the column by saying he deserved bad luck in redistricting, essentially meaning he deserved to lose his office, and that Louisianans should wish him “good riddance.” Just as in the opening paragraph, I overstated the case I actually had made. The conclusion was too sweeping, and too harsh, even though I still think he deserves major criticism how he handled the matters of Scalise and Ukraine.
For over-condemning Graves’ entire service, I was wrong. I apologize.