The Journalist As Professional: Are There Limits To Dis-interestedness?

In the United States in the 20th century, journalism became a profession. As part of her professional identity, the journalist is expected to be neutral, objective, and to cover both sides of a story. Though the term is a bit forbidding, it is better to think of the professional journalist as disinterested. The true professional must not cater to any special interests, and especially not to those who might be in a position to confer special favors on said professional. Instead, it’s her job to describe as accurately as possible the particular person, event, or story in question and to place the particular story in appropriate contexts. The accuracy part of the job means getting all the facts right and, insofar as possible, confirming the story with all relevant parties. We might call this the “Associated Press” or “Reuters” approach. A somewhat higher bar entails providing appropriate context, often requiring both broad historical and scholarly knowledge. We might call this the “New York Times” or “Wall Street Journal” approach.

A test of disinterestedness is the reaction of those who consume the news. When NPR gets an equal number of complaints from the political left and the political right about its coverage of conflict in the Middle East, that’s a sign it is doing its job in a disinterested way. But what does it mean to be disinterested during the presidential campaign of 2016? Has the Trump candidacy made a mockery of the profession of journalism—a profession that Trump both depends on and explicitly condemns?

In the last two decades, it’s become difficult to maintain the high bar of disinterestedness. Postmodern thinkers contend that disinterestedness is an impossible and perhaps not even a worthwhile goal. (“We are all interested; let’s admit it and may the better interested win!”) The 24/7 news cycle puts tremendous pressure on even the most dedicated journalists to cut corners, lest they be scooped. And the advent of social media has nudged many journalists both to put out information very rapidly and to tweet or blog their personal opinions about events of the day. I personally regret this trend—“How,” I ask, “are we to read John’s stories as if they were disinterested, when we know that he has just posted his personal view on the very same topic?”

Decades ago, ‘disinterested coverage’ was associated with the much honored CBS news team—led initially by Edward R. Murrow and then by Walter Cronkite. Indeed, Cronkite would close his nightly newscast with the bald assertion, “And that’s the way it is.” It’s therefore worth remembering that on deliberately rare occasions, both Murrow and Cronkite made clear their own views. Murrow famously broadcast a series of critiques of Senator Joseph McCarthy—and those critiques, along with the televised Army McCarthy hearings, ultimately led to the downfall of that nefarious senator. More than a decade later, after travelling to Vietnam, Cronkite reported that the war was not winnable; it was a stalemate, and negotiations were the only rational alternative. Famously, then President Johnson turned off the television and declared, “If I’ve lost Walter Cronkite, I’ve lost Middle America.”

These issues have been recently thrown into sharp relief. In the opinion of many people (including me), Donald Trump is a psychologically-damaged and unprecedentedly ignorant candidate for the most powerful position on the planet. He has disregarded the rules and assumptions of American politics as they have evolved over the decades; his election could well be a disaster for the country and for the world. Under such circumstances, what is the recommended course of action for reporters who wish to maintain their disinterested professional stance?

According to a prevailing narrative, Trump’s candidacy was initially so anomalous that reporters presented it as a compelling form of entertainment. Enormous free publicity helped to propel him to the nomination. Then, this narrative continues, feeling guilty (as their predecessors did for their initial acceptance of the governmental narratives of both the Vietnam and the Iraq wars), reporters have leaned in the other direction, maximizing Trumps’ flaws, while paying relatively less attention to those of Hillary Clinton. Liz Spayd, the Public Editor of The New York Times, recently lamented that many readers no longer pay attention to that ‘newspaper of record’; it is now seen as being blatantly partisan—indeed, highly interested in one outcome of the election.

As one who studies the professions, I’ve come to this conclusion: in extreme cases, professionals should be prepared to drop their disinterestedness, explain why they are doing so, and seek to return to professional disinterestedness as soon as possible.

But what constitutes an extreme case? It’s one in which the very society in which they have been allowed to practice their profession is under attack. It’s not hard for anyone to understand why journalists who objected to Hitler’s stated aims and his calling for blatant acts of violence should have focused the spotlight squarely on these activities and explained in detail why they went against all of the assumptions and presumptions of Weimar Germany. One could make the same point with reference to Stalin’s pogroms or Mao’s Cultural Revolution. Of course, we know what would have happened–what too often did happen–to journalists who described and contextualized what was happening in these totalitarian societies. And yet, had enough journalists (and other professionals, like lawyers) initially opposed the regimes more vocally and more vociferously, the terrible outcomes might have been avoided. Indeed, I think that it is precisely those fears that motivated Murrow in the 1950s, and Cronkite in the 1960s, to declare their ‘interests.’

What of today? I think it is proper for journalists to describe in detail what Donald Trump is doing, what it means for society today and tomorrow, and how it violates all sorts of norms and assumptions that have characterized American political life, domestically and abroad, for many decades. The journalists should be prepared to explain—and explain again―what they are doing and why they are doing it, and how, if Trump were elected, the fundamental values and processes of our society will be at serious risk. They should apply a similar critique to other candidates—in this case, candidates for major parties running for president. But they should not ‘pretend’ that there are two equally plausible sides to every story! And they should voice the hope that when (or even if) the political scene returns to a more normal state, they will eagerly and proudly again wear the robe of disinterestedness.

This blog post was also published via The Huffington Post.

Can Philanthropy Be a Profession? Should It Be?

NOTE: This post has also been published on HistPhil, a blog dedicated to the history of the philanthropic and nonprofit sectors. Click here to read the post on that platform.

Nowadays, almost any vocation—from beautician to beekeeping—calls itself a profession and, accordingly, surrounds itself with the appropriate paraphernalia. I prefer to reserve the description “profession” for those vocations that fulfill a number of requirements. Among those requirements are: a core set of values that entail service to the broader society; extensive training with certification by knowledgeable instructors; ability to make and defend complex, disinterested decisions under conditions of uncertainty; and, crucially, the possibility of de-certification if these requirements are violated. For an elaboration of these and other conditions, please click here.

Those who practice philanthropy—either as philanthropists or their designated agents (sometimes termed “philanthropoids,” though I’ll continue to use the word “philanthropists” here)—exhibit many of the outward signs of a profession; but it is premature to admit philanthropy to the ranks of a full-fledged profession. At present, just about anyone who is presentable can claim to be a professional philanthropist; and unless he or she commits actions that are clearly illegal, it’s not possible to remove that title from a claimant.

In my most recent blog, I described four forms of philanthropy. Two of these have existed for many years. Charity entails a gift triggered by the dire straits of the recipient. Support of traditional community organizations (the so-called SOB trio of symphony, orchestra, and ballet) is simply an admirable habit. Needed and appreciated though these two forms of philanthropy may be, they have no particular claims on being a profession.

The other two forms of philanthropy are quite different from one another and also are frequently in tension with one another. I’ll describe them in sharply contrasting ways. In the accounting form of philanthropy, the funders and recipients agree on a goal and then a precise strategic plan is laid out: the means of meeting it; the milestones along the way; and the ways that these achievements can be measured. To be sure, there can be slack or branches in the plan; but unless there is a well-worked-out game plan, an applicant will not even be considered. Think McKinsey; think Boston Consulting Group.

In the taste form of philanthropy, funders and recipients agree broadly on a question to be answered or a problem to be solved. There can be steps along the way, even designated measures. But by and large, the project is seen as a work-in-progress. It’s assumed that the recipients are thoughtful and committed individuals and will keep in regular touch with the funders. However, it’s understood that the project—and even the question to be pursued or the shape of the goal—may well change; and perhaps that change, while not anticipated, may be appropriate and commendable.

In my own case, having been fortunate enough to have secured philanthropic funds for over four decades, I’ve clearly fallen more in the “taste” category. As mentioned in the earlier blog, I’ve been supported by funders who trust me to reflect continuously on what my team and I are doing. I quoted John Gardner, a personal hero, who said, with respect to a large project that my colleagues and I had outlined, “It will take you five years to figure out what question you are asking,” and then Gardner proceeded to help us secure funds. So clearly, I have a personal leaning with regard to that form of philanthropy. I am not completely disinterested.

We’re concerned in this blog with what it takes to be a profession. Frankly, it’s much easier to train individuals in the accountability form of philanthropy—they require business, financial, and strategic acumen; they are expected to honor the ways in which they have been trained; and both they and the beneficiaries of their due diligence know where they stand and what they have to do. The proper training is likely to be attendance at one or more of the respective professional schools and then ascending the ranks in an organization committed to process and accountability.

In contrast, the taste form of philanthropy prefers that the practitioner resemble a curator. The philanthropist reviews various priorities; considers the credentials, track record, and cogency of the grant request and requester; and then makes a considered judgment about what should be funded—and under what conditions, if any, the funding might be terminated. Rather than entailing graduation from a professional school (typically a business or policy school), the educational model resembles participation in an atelier, in which one apprentices oneself to highly regarded philanthropists and observes keenly how they go about their job. As Mihaly Csikszentmihaly expresses it, “Philanthropy resembles artistic domains—people are joined by a common goal but left free to change and improvise the means of reaching this goal.”

One can actually observe lineages: at the Carnegie Corporation, John Gardner was the mentor for Barbara Finberg; Barbara Finberg mentored Gerry Mannion; and the lineage continues. I’ve also observed such mentoring first hand with respect to Julie Kidd, the longtime president of The Endeavor Foundation (formerly The Christian A. Johnson Endeavor Foundation). Not only has Julie modelled open-minded philanthropy for a number of excellent project managers over the years; recently, she has brought her daughter Ashley centrally into the work of the Foundation.

I’ve sharply contrasted two forms of philanthropy, but there is no reason for them to be mutually exclusive. An aspiring philanthropist can be trained in both ways; indeed, a person with both management consultant and apprentice training could become a very skillful dispenser of support (so long as she kept the aforementioned distinction in mind and did not attempt to merge these two philanthropic strands). Perhaps, indeed, this would be one way to move philanthropy closer to a professional status.

Moreover, there are efforts to codify what it means to be a professional philanthropist. As I was rolling up my sleeves to write this blog, I was sent the “Code of Ethical Standards” for the Association of Fundraising Professionals. Most of the 25 principles seem reasonable, if predictable. But I was caught by one of the bullets—“Members shall recognize their individual boundaries of professional competence.” As phrased, this point seems to presuppose what is meant by professional competence. My argument here is that we still need to define that competence—or those competences!—and do so in such a way that some kind of body could declare, with confidence, “You have violated the boundaries of professional competence and are no longer considered a philanthropist.”

More so than in other aspiring professions, in the end, individuals with resources are always making value judgments about what to support and how much support to give. As far as I can see, there is no way to remove this central core element of philanthropy. And so while it certainly should be possible to make philanthropy more professional, I don’t expect to see the time when we will clearly consider philanthropy as one of the “major” professions.

Bloomsburg University’s Joan Miller and Mary Katherine Duncan on “Good Work”

By Daniel Mucinskas

Over the past several years, our colleagues Dr. Joan Miller and Dr. Mary Katherine Duncan (along with Dr. Jennifer Johnson) have been working on a set of Good Work-related endeavors at Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania. We spoke with Joan and Mary Katherine about the latest news from their respective projects and their enduring commitment to encouraging “good” in the world. In the Q&A below, we discuss Bloomsburg University’s Good Work Initiative, a planned study of Good Work in nursing, a multiple intelligences curriculum for young people, and more!

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Q: Mary Katherine, we previously discussed the Bloomsburg University Good Work Initiative, which strives to help students understand excellence, ethics, and engagement (the 3 Es) as pillars of doing academic work that is “good.” The Good Work-related summer assignment for all incoming students is now in its fifth year. What are you envisioning for this year’s assignment?

MK: Good Work is now embedded into the core of Bloomsburg University’s identity; many faculty members and administrators are excited by the Good Work frameworks and incorporate the ideas into their own classrooms, projects, and goals. We have a high degree of institutional support and are excited that we can offer a Good Work assignment to incoming freshmen once again this year. It is an important part of our community to have our students understand the meaning of doing good both at the university and beyond.

This year, incoming students will read a two-page introduction to the concept of Good Work and complete a brief quiz to check their understanding of the 3 Es. Then, students will watch a YouTube video of Randy Pausch’s The Last Lecture and write an analysis of factors that influenced Dr. Pausch’s pursuit of Good Work. Students will next reflect on factors that influenced their own pursuits of academic excellence, ethics, and engagement during their junior and senior years of high school. Finally, students will be directed to the BU Good Work Initiative website to learn more about campus-based resources designed to support their academic and professional Good Work.

Q: Joan, your major focus has been on the encouragement of Good Work in the nursing profession. What is the latest on that front?

Joan: I am planning an international qualitative study of Good Work in Nursing that I hope to start this year, using the same interview protocol that was used in the original Good Work study and also in my own previous study (see my article “Opportunities and Obstacles for Good Work in Nursing”). Through this new line of research, I hope to gain a cross-cultural perspective from several different countries concerning what values and beliefs brought people into the nursing profession, what opportunities/supports and obstacles they have, and how they overcome challenges.

Q: You have each been involved in a “Playing with MI (Multiple Intelligences) Smarts” curriculum that you have created to teach students about their intelligences and doing good. How has this been used?

MK: The curriculum was engendered by the Bloomsburg University Toy Library, a lending library of literacy and play resources that I founded in 2010 after Howard Gardner visited our school to talk about MI theory and the Good Project. The library has been popular with faculty, students, professionals, and paraprofessional working with individuals of all developmental ages and abilities. One of our central objectives for the Toy Library is to help people understand that everyone is “smart” in different ways, and we should each have the ability to appreciate our own smarts and those of others.

Using some of the toys, games, and resources from the library, we have worked with elementary school children in after-school care in what we call “Playing with MI Smarts,” facilitating an exploration of their unique intelligences and strengths through shared reading and play. We then have a discussion together with the children about how they can use their discovered abilities to help people in their communities. For example, students have made greeting cards and scrapbooks for children in foster care and handmade interactive children’s books for new and expectant mothers.

Joan: Playing with MI Smarts was also used with children of parents who were enrolled in “Getting Ahead in a Just-Gettin’-By World,” a program for individuals who are in or close to poverty. They explore personal and community resources available to help them break the poverty cycle. We really saw that the young people were engaged and happy to be participating in “Playing with MI Smarts.” Currently, we are exploring ways to integrate the “Getting Ahead” and “Playing with MI Smarts” programs into the local school system.

Over spring break, with students from the Bloomsburg University Honors Program, we took “Playing with MI Smarts” to two elementary schools in Jamaica. It was challenging to implement the lessons with large numbers of students in the Jamaican classes. Now we are thinking about how to adapt in the future to accommodate larger numbers of students.

Q: What other related activities can you share with us?

Joan: I recently returned from the University of Pécs in Hungary. I have been teaching a joint course with a professor from the University of Pécs. Together, we explore the 3 Es of Good Work and minds needed to navigate a global community. We anticipate continued collaboration. In the fall, I will give a guest lecture focused on Good Work and ways to cultivate respectful minds as the international students from the University of Pécs adapt to cross-cultural communication.

MK: Dr. Jennifer and I worked with a team of undergraduate students on a study examining motivators and challenges to psychology majors’ pursuits of excellent, ethical, and engaged academic work. Findings were presented at the Eastern Psychology Association Conference in March 2016.

I also still teach my annual Good Work seminar, structured around the 3 Es, to junior and senior psychology majors. As the Distinguished Professor of Good Work, thanks to the generosity of Joan and her husband Fred, I will continue to expand Good Work into other arenas

Students Consider the “Good Life” at the University of Florida

By Daniel Mucinskas

At the University of Florida, Jennifer Smith, Director of the Office for Faculty Development and Teaching Excellence, and Andrew Wolpert, Good Life Course Director and Associate Professor of Classics, have been spearheading a course titled “What Is the Good Life?” This multi-disciplinary course, required of all first-year undergraduate students, explores how people have thought about the meaning of a “good life” for thousands of years and the ways in which we seek, fight for, and celebrate it.

We recently chatted with Smith and Wolpert about this course and particularly its incorporation of The Good Project’s Value Sort as a core class activity. A summary of our conversation is below.

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Q: How did this course originate? What do you see as its purpose and hope that students learn?

Jennifer: “What Is the Good Life?” is a component of the University of Florida’s “UF Core,” a series of general education courses. This past year, nearly seven thousand freshmen have completed the course, which is required for students in all colleges at the University, regardless of topic of study.

Andrew: The UF Core focuses on the themes of “meaning-making” are “purpose exploration.” In “What Is the Good Life?”, we want students to delve deep into the ideas and concepts that we discuss in class and to realize that this course is indeed applicable to their own lives. By examining a wide range of works from the arts and the humanities, students come to realize that the “good life” is a complex concept that has little to do with ephemeral pleasures. It is about what you must do for yourself and others in order to live a meaningful life. We try to crack the term open and examine the “good life” across time and cultures.

Jennifer: In course feedback, some students report that they don’t understand the relevance of this course to their areas of study or wider lives. We want all of our students to realize that the question of what constitutes an ideal life is important to everyone and that what we value affects the decisions we make every day and eventually the trajectory of life. Even though it may seem abstract and unimportant, the way you think about a “good life” does have a real impact. This course allows first-year students to explore and put into words their own personal values, laying a groundwork of self-knowledge before they move on the following year to consider the values of society and their place within it.

Q: How is The Good Project’s Value Sort implemented as a part of this course?

Jennifer: We start the semester with our Career Resource Center’s “Valuing Your Values” activity, which is similar to The Good Project’s Value Sort. Students are asked to pick ten values from a list that are important to them. They must then narrow the list to five values and discuss the trade-offs they face in narrowing that list.

Andrew: The list includes items like “power and authority,” “achievement,” “family,” “autonomy,” “location,” and “challenge” and is meant to focus on values that relate to a wide range of careers. Many first-year students (and their parents) are concerned about starting a career, but they don’t take the time to consider whether their envisioned professions are compatible with their values. We try to get them to sit back and consider big questions like, “What do you want your life to look like?” and “What happens when you pick a career that does or does not align with your values?”

Later in the semester, we ask students to complete The Good Project’s Value Sort in order to help them answer questions about what they prioritize and why. By ranking the values found in this activity, they get an even better sense of what is most important to them. We also ask them if any value is not listed which they find personally meaningful.

Jennifer: I have found that The Good Project’s Value Sort is easy to use and provides clear results to students. They then choose one value or belief in particular and record an audio essay explaining its importance in their own lives. Students are asked to relate their personal value or belief to one of the course readings.

Q: One of the unique aspects of this course is the audio essay. Tell me a little more about that.

Jennifer: The inspiration for the audio essay, the final product of the semester, was the “This I Believe” audio essay series, which was broadcast on NPR from 2005 to 2009 (see thisibelieve.org). Students record themselves talking about a dearly held value or belief for three minutes. We have a competition in which the writers of the best essays of the semester have the opportunity to be chosen as finalists for a scholarship. Moving forward, we hope to use these finalist recordings as examples for future students to emulate. Faculty members can bring these audio essays and multimedia into “What is the Good Life?” as well as their other courses. I think it helps students to create a personal emotional connection with the material.

Andrew: What’s neat about this assignment is that it gives students the time to reflect on their values; they often don’t have the opportunity to engage in such an activity until they enroll in the course. The “This I Believe” audio essay allows UF students to express their ideas of the “good life” in concrete terms and see how their own ideas relate to the works that we have studied. Overall, students have responded positively!

Philanthropy as a Profession? Four Approaches

Twenty years ago, my colleagues Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Bill Damon, and I launched the GoodWork Project (originally called “the Humane Creativity Project”). The goal of the project was to describe “good work” in various professions and to determine how best to foster good work in the future. Our story has been told in many places, and this blog is one of many fruits of that collaboration.

For each of the sectors that we studied, we had to raise funds. Somewhat unexpectedly, we found it easy to raise funds to study philanthropy. And, in accordance with the research design, we interviewed many involved in the philanthropic sector and reflected on what it meant to be a good worker therein. Our findings were reported in various articles and also in a book edited by Bill Damon and Susan Verducci called Taking Philanthropy Seriously.

As the study unfolded, Mihaly floated an intriguing idea; he said, “Philanthropy is a field, but it’s not a domain.” Let me unpack this phrase. According to our terminology, a field is any organized activity in which there are participants, careers paths, and gatekeepers who decide who can participate and who gets rewarded. A domain entails a higher bar. A domain is a sector of society dedicated to the pursuit of a clear set of values—values that are publicly stated, carefully monitored, and directed toward a recognized public good. Any occupational area can be a field, but as a rough approximation, we restrict the use of the word domain to organized professions. In 19th century America, it was relatively easy to call oneself a lawyer or a doctor: the field was wide open. In the 20th century, these fields became professionalized: there were clear standards of preparation, a set of ethical principles, and, importantly, criteria by which one could be ostracized from the profession or domain.

And so, in Mihaly’s term, anyone could call herself a philanthropist or (to use another term of art) a philanthropoid—someone who gives away money accumulated by someone else. As long as one obeyed the law and, so to speak, dressed in a suit, one could not be expelled from the practice of philanthropy. It is a field, but not a domain.

In the decades since our work was launched, I’ve had the opportunity to work with many individuals whom we could term philanthropists and/or philanthropoids. Two of their approaches are quite familiar and have been around for a long time:

–Charity. In this oldest form of philanthropy, one gives money or other kinds of support to those most clearly in need: those who are ill, those who are destitute, those who are helpless, or those who beg.

–Standard “SOB” Support. Much of philanthropy consists of giving money to those community organizations that have most visibly relied on such support. The playful acronym “SOB” refers to symphonies, opera, and ballet. But I would extend that characterization to other organizations—many of them quite worthy—that have been around for a long time: annual community drives, The Salvation Army, The Red Cross, and—in the sector that I personally know best—Save the Children or Doctors without Borders. One does not need to scrutinize their activities annually; barring scandal, one assumes that these well-known “do-good” organizations are going about their work in a reasonable fashion.

In the case of my own fundraising, I have dealt primarily with two other forms of philanthropy which, for the sake of this essay, we might think of as “discretionary” philanthropy. One was quite dominant when I began to raise funds decades ago; the other has become dominant in recent years.

–Twentieth Century “Taste” Philanthropy. In this style of philanthropy, funders place bets on individuals or projects that seem promising. Funders focus on the track record of the fund seeker; the importance of the project being put forth; the thoughtfulness with which the case has been made; and the nature of the personal relation between the funder and the funded (often one of candor and trust). For those of us on the GoodWork Project, 20th century philanthropoid John Gardner (no relation), President of the Carnegie Corporation, represented the prototype of this form of philanthropy. Gardner and those like him had excellent taste and many of the projects that they supported—for example, Public Television—were highly successful. The risk of this form of philanthropy was that it relied too much on personal relations between certain individuals and certain institutions; and if you were not part of an “old boy” or “old girl” network, the chances of securing funding were much smaller.

–Contemporary “Accountability: Philanthropy. Partly in reaction to the limitations of philanthropy of decades ago, another form of philanthropy has arisen in recent years. Much influenced by the modes of operation of management consultancies like McKinsey, this form of philanthropy focuses heavily on the specific goals of the project, the methods being used, the steps taken along the way, and the criteria by which success will be judged. It is highly reliant on strategy, on numbers (constantly monitored), and on accountability or “return on investment.” If the applicant does not have much experience in thinking along these lines, or if her project does not lend itself to such matrixes, her chances of securing funding are low.

About a decade ago, I attended a meeting in which a well-known philanthropoid—representing a foundation with billions of dollars—discussed the foundation’s shift from 20th century to contemporary approaches to funding. “No more betting blindly,” he declared, “from now on, we will know exactly what we are funding, whether we are succeeding, and how to cut our losses.” He was wildly cheered by the audience, composed of successful individuals representing various sectors of society.

I then asked to speak. I acknowledged the appeal of the message he was delivering. But I then added, “I’ve been raising funds for nearly forty years. By most accounts, the work that I’ve done has been of quality. I have to say that, under the ground rules that you outlined, I’d never have been able to raise a penny.” And this is because, in my own fundraising, I at most had a promising idea and a reasonable track record. But I never knew ahead of time what I and my colleagues would discover and how we would make sense of it.

I thought back to what John Gardner said to Mihaly, Bill, and me back in 1995, when we first talked with him about what ultimately became the GoodWork Project and today is the Good Project: “It’ll take you five years to figure out what you are trying to accomplish.” And then he helped us to secure our first grant—from the Hewlett Foundation.

In an upcoming blog, using philanthropy as a case study, I’ll discuss how a field can become a domain—or, in lay terms, how does an occupation become a profession, and what might cause it to lose its professional status.