By Francis Moran
The line above is a statement by former Sun Microsystems CEO Scott McNealy that was quoted by Canadian novelist Guy Gavriel Kaye in an article in the Globe and Mail‘s Books section just before Christmas. Kaye wrote about how technology, and especially the everyone’s-a-publisher-now phenomenon of the internet and its pervasive blogs, has changed how he interacts with readers he meets. Mainly, he wrote, he is now a lot more circumspect about what he says, even in informal conversations, knowing that every word he speaks — and, unfortunately, some words he never spoke! — will end up published on a blog somewhere where they will persist forever. It’s all contributing to what Kaye called “an erosion of space between reader and writer and book.”
As a new blogger, I have already wrestled with this phenomenon and the issue of what responsibility, if any, I owe to people to obtain their approval before I quote them or refer to them in a post. When I was a reporter, the lines, for me at least, were very clear. If you were a politician, public official or corporate executive, everything was on the record unless we explicitly negotiated otherwise. For me, that meant that anything I heard, any where at any time from such a person was fair game. If you were an ordinary citizen on the other hand, I cut you a great deal more slack, making sure you were aware you were talking to a reporter working on a story and that I was taking notes of what you said. In a couple of very sensitive stories, both having to do with suicides of young people, I even read my story back to the parents I was quoting to make doubly sure they were comfortable with how I was treating them.
Since launching inmedialog a few months ago, I’ve written, or wanted to write, posts about wholly public events, somewhat public events and private or by-invitation-only events. In the case of the wholly public events, where I knew mainstream reporters had been invited and were likely present, I felt absolutely no compunction quoting freely from the speakers and other formal participants. If something outrageous or controversial had been said, I would have felt equally free to quote at will. And I think that’s fair. No reasonable person participating in such a forum should have any reasonable expectation of privacy. I will, however, play by the same rules that governed me as a reporter, meaning that I will strive for accuracy, fairness and balance.
At a somewhat private event, I tread a little more carefully. I am no longer a reporter with an obligation to disclose what I learn, so I can pick and choose. So long as what I write reflects favourably on the people and organizations I’m writing about, I don’t feel any responsibility to gain prior clearance. But if someone at a less-than-openly-public event says something controversial that I’d like to write about, I’d probably make sure the person was comfortable with my doing so, and I’d certainly offer them the opportunity to participate in the blog discussion. Indeed, I’d encourage it. That’s how we’ve ended up with Peter Kemball’s continuing posts on Canada’s SR&ED tax credit scheme.
The waters get a lot murkier for me when the event is expressly a private one. A couple of months back, I was invited to an event in Calgary featuring a panel of executives from leading Canadian companies talking about their sustainable development practices. The organizers nixed my suggestion that I bring with me an old friend of mine who now lives in Calgary where he covers the energy sector for the business newswire service, Bloomberg, so I knew they felt that the event was strictly off the record. However, after hearing inspiring stories of how sustainable development practices at these large corporations were mitigating damage to the environment, improving products, enhancing human health and safety and, most riveting of all, boosting profits, I badly wanted to write about it. Unfortunately, the organizers put the kibosh on that idea, insisting that the closed event remain that way. I respected their right to do so.
(As an aside, I think they did their panelists a disservice. The speakers and their companies would have been presented in a highly favourable light for their leadership on sustainable development initiatives. And, paradoxically, more than one speaker lamented the fact that not enough was known about the positive financial results that could flow from doing the right thing environmentally and that more Canadian companies might follow their lead if only the issue was more widely understood! Oh, well.)
Here, then, are our rough operating principles for how we’ll treat what we hear when we set out to blog about it. If it was said or published in an open forum, it’s open season. If it was semi-public, we’ll use discretion, and seek permission before we wade into controversy. And if it was a private event, or a conversation you have every reasonable expectation was private, we’ll honour that and seek express permission before we attribute words to you.
Bottom line: McNealy probably has a good point when it comes to the broader world but at inmedialog.com, privacy still has a role.
Technorati Tags: privacy, blogging, reporting, Scott McNealy
When you have two professional marketers in the family, some casual conversations can take a peculiar bent. Such was the case when my wife, a seasoned marketing communications strategist, and I were driving along a city street here in Ottawa a while ago. Up ahead, I spotted a car, with a canine passenger whose head was sticking out the window, as dogs love to do. Being a dog owner myself who often indulged my pooch’s enjoyment of high-speed scent sniffing, I said, “Hey, there’s a dog lover.”
We got a little closer and saw a flag on the car bumper featuring the French tricolour but with a yellow star in the upper left corner. I’m a bit of a flag nut and a Maritime Canadian, so I was easily able to identify it as the flag of the Acadian nation, people of French descent who settled in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick starting in the early 1600s. In 1755, refusing to surrender the neutrality they had been granted in the 1713 Treaty of Utrecht that ceded their territory to Britain, more than three-quarters of the Acadians living in Nova Scotia were forcibly expelled from their land and deported, many to Louisiana where they became known as Cajuns, a term that is derived from Acadian. It was arguably an early example of what today is called ethnic cleansing. Still, the Acadian culture persists in many parts of Maritime Canada today.
