A few people have asked me what I think about the decision of the New York Times to run that op-ed by Tom Cotton.
I fear my answer won't please anyone. But I hope it's worth articulating because it gets to some larger questions about how publications define themselves.
[Thread]
I fear my answer won't please anyone. But I hope it's worth articulating because it gets to some larger questions about how publications define themselves.
[Thread]
The basic job of the NYT op-ed page is to allocate the most coveted platform in journalism. What principle should drive that selection?
There are two broad answers.
There are two broad answers.
1) Articles that best articulate the views of people committed to a set of basic values.
2) Opinions that must be taken seriously, either because they are novel and insightful *or* because the people who express them are sufficiently significant that we can't ignore them.
2) Opinions that must be taken seriously, either because they are novel and insightful *or* because the people who express them are sufficiently significant that we can't ignore them.
So long as "basic values" is construed sufficiently broadly to allow for a real range of voices, I personally prefer 1).
That why, though I disagree with a lot of its articles for all kinds of reasons, I love @TheAtlantic so much. Its basic values are mine: liberal democracy.
That why, though I disagree with a lot of its articles for all kinds of reasons, I love @TheAtlantic so much. Its basic values are mine: liberal democracy.
But the NYT op-ed page has long subscribed to 2). That's why it's published articles by the Taliban, Vladimir Putin, Marine Le Pen, and other loathsome figures.
Within that tradition, it makes perfect sense to publish the views of an influential U.S. Senator, however loathsome.
Within that tradition, it makes perfect sense to publish the views of an influential U.S. Senator, however loathsome.
2 more thoughts:
A perfectly appropriate response to the Cotton op-ed is a kind of realization: If 2) commits us to publishing pieces like this one, perhaps we should switch to principle 1)?
But then you should also be outraged by those Putin and Le Pen and Taliban op-eds.
A perfectly appropriate response to the Cotton op-ed is a kind of realization: If 2) commits us to publishing pieces like this one, perhaps we should switch to principle 1)?
But then you should also be outraged by those Putin and Le Pen and Taliban op-eds.
At its best, 1) is great. At it worst, it's terrible.
How do you specify the basic values that guide selection? How do you stop the circle of the acceptable from getting more and more narrow?
Those aren't easy questions to get right—and many places are getting them badly wrong.
How do you specify the basic values that guide selection? How do you stop the circle of the acceptable from getting more and more narrow?
Those aren't easy questions to get right—and many places are getting them badly wrong.
Final thought:
A common argument against 1) is that it lends bad people credibility. When minor figures are elevated,
that's convincing.
But applied to people with real power, that's (sadly) delusional; neither Cotton nor Putin will go away because the NYT won't publish them.
A common argument against 1) is that it lends bad people credibility. When minor figures are elevated,
that's convincing.
But applied to people with real power, that's (sadly) delusional; neither Cotton nor Putin will go away because the NYT won't publish them.
(The final tweet is of course about position 2), not about position 1), as one eagle-eyed friend pointed out.
And that's the end.)
And that's the end.)
