The question comes up in class discussion of immersion reporting whether it’s permissible to make up a composite “day.” A reporter spends several days trailing a source for a profile, and realizes it would structurally oh-so-easy to put fold events that transpired over several days into one composite day. Obviously the answer is no. Instead use the varied—and real time—events of one day as jumping off points for the different aspects of the profile’s life

This image of Bill Clinton on the cover of New York Magazine is an example of why a complete ban on manipulating photographs would be foolish:
http://nymag.com/nymag/toc/20071008/
No one, presumably, is misled. Many, presumably, are amused, intrigued or even enlightened.

This is an especially helpful example, as many may not realize that stealing someone’s idea is also plagiarism. It’s helpful also to note when you can merely cite something as a fact that cannot be disputed.

Great topic, Adam. My book, Lethal Intent, about executed serial killer Aileen Wuornos, was blatantly plagiarized in another book on Wuornos, with zero attribution. The facts I uncovered in my original research are, of course, now public domain. But the expression of that research and the ideas it gave rise to are mine, for better or worse. Or so I thought! One teeny snip from numerous examples of the lifting of words and ideas.

I wrote:
“Near neighbors who over the years were never once invited to set foot inside for even casual pleasantries, recall the curtains always being drawn tightly across its small windows, excluding the outside world.”

The perpetrator wrote:
“Near neighbors, who were never once invited to set foot inside, even for casual pleasantries, recall the curtains always being tightly drawn across the small windows of the Wuornos house. ”

As a writer, I might have been far less annoyed by, say, ‘the neighbors never set foot inside the Wuornos house, even briefly, and remember seeing the curtains always closed.’ But should I have been less annoyed?

Now I’m wondering. Given the assessment of the Hillenbrand passage, is this an acceptable paraphrase with no attribution? Bottom line for me: attribution makes many things seem forgivable that otherwise might not.

I believe this passage confuses fictionalizing with protecting identities.

If I write, “John Doe (name changed to protect privacy), admitted to being so hungry, he once broke into a church to steal communion wafers,” it’s only a fictional device if something other than the name “John Doe” is fiction.

The reader is immediately told that Doe isn’t the person’s name. The reader isn’t being misinformed — certain information is being withheld, and the reader is being told as much.

I believe that that paragraph 25 demonstrates a common failing of those who attempt to define ethics in journalism, as if there were some set of rules that only apply here but nowhere else.

There is no difference between ethics in journalism and ethics in any other life situation. You are behaving unethically only if you mislead people, not if you tell the truth, such as openly using a “stand-in” name for someone who can’t be named openly.

I disagree. If I were to utilize the narrative and the quoted statement, that would be unacceptable. To use the quoted statement is perfectly fair and acceptable. You say that it is unacceptable because “it appears the writer intevviewed Rao…” It may appear that way to you, but it does not appear that way to me. The statement could have been made in any number of published interviews in newspapers, magazines or books. Perhaps I see it this way because I write non-fiction investigative books, and using quotes from diverse sources is common practice and always considered fair use.

I think this is complex, Adam, and that there is no one Rx for getting it right. Like Burl, I don’t believe that using the brief 15-16 word quote cited, without attribution, rises to the standard of plagiarism. Key: the quote is part of the public record at that point, and none of the writer’s surrounding creative words were used. So no, not plagiarism.

It might not be ideal. For me, context is all. If you fill a book with “he said in the New York Times on X,” or, “he told X from the NYT on February 15th XXXX” it can *really* break up the narrative flow and character dialogue and it would ruin – and this is key – *certain* books where storytelling is all, such as traditional true crime. It is after all a very brief quote. In a more journalistic book, you’d probably happily attribute or footnote. (Again, we’re talking 15-16 words.)

For articles, I often wrestle with how best to convey that a quote came from another source when there is no room for full detailed attribution. i.e., I wouldn’t use a one line quote and end it with, “he says.” For me, that sounds immediate and very much as though we are in the room together. Ergo, misleading. I might, however, write, “he once said,” and feel fine about it (again for this very brief quote) without belabouring attribution. The longer the quotes used, the more critical that you convey that they did not arise from your own interview and credit appropriately, etc. That’s my take on this example, for what it’s worth.

I think it would absolutely be problemmatic to use the quote without making it clear it came from Friedman’s book. My uneasiness stems from two objections:

First, it is quite likely readers will assume the journalist spoke with Rao him/herself. It touches on the credibility of the reporter, the overall picture unconsciously being built in the reader’s mind that the reporter got the info directly, since there is no allusion to a secondary source. In a standard newspaper story, I suspect people generally do assume that quotes, unless explained otherwise, were received directly (through conversation, email, official statements, etc).

(Regarding nonfiction investigative books — for such works, extensive sourcing information is usually given at the back of the book, which is not the case with newspaper reporting. I also suspect readers, at least more sophisticated readers, recognize that the sheer volume of material in a book is unlikely to come from direct interviews alone, and they make allowances for this as they read — and turn to the back for further sourcing informaton if they want it.)

Second, it provides a pathway to investigate the accuracy and context of the quote as recorded and presented by Friedman. If the quote turns out to be contested, the responsiblity for its initial reporting is clear if Friedman’s book is given as the original source. If there are questions about the context in which the quote was made, those may be cleared up by turning to the original source.

This last point may sound ridiculous — most people reading a story about India and business are not going to work backwards to find out if the context of the quote in the book matches the way it is presented in the news story — but at least the opportunity is there. It strikes me that readers have a right to know that there may be dilution at work. We all played the telephone game as kids, and we know how garbled things become as the story moves from person to person. Readers have a right to know that the quote was mediated through Friedman’s presentation of it, and then the reporter’s use of it — rather than only through the reporter.

Grace in prose is an important goal, but we can’t jettison the need to ensure that what our writing implies is as accurate as the facts it presents simply because it may be awkward to include the sourcing details. There are ways around having to wedge it all into the main story, if it really is too difficult — especially these days, with pullouts, graphics, source notes and the like not uncommon in the overall presentation of a story.

Lisa Miller
NYU BER alum
Editor, Platts