deb roush

I have let myself cool off for a week after reading countless social media posts in defense of NBC journalist and anchor Brian Williams, who falsely claimed to be hit by gunfire while riding in a helicopter when covering the Iraq war. Though many of the posts I read called Mr. Williams out for what he is – a fraud – countless others defended him. The news “won’t be the same without him.” It’s “not that big of a deal.” He “didn’t lie any worse than members of Congress” and “But he’s my favorite, and I can’t wait until he’s back,” they said. “I forgive him.”

Here’s why that bugs me so much.

In high school, I wasn’t a top student. Algebra mystified me. Science eluded me. History bored me. I had no talent for music or the arts. I didn’t enjoy grammar necessarily – but I loved to read and write. When it came time to head to college, I chose a journalism program. It wasn’t because I believed I had great skill; it was more as a default. At Bowling Green State University in Ohio, which was ranked as one of the top journalism schools in the nation at the time, I discovered my passion. Through the years of coursework and working at the daily paper, The BG News, eventually as its managing editor, I learned to skillfully craft stories through the art of news-editorial journalism. That is not writing essays like this one. It is not penning opinion columns. It is researching and interviewing subjects and accurately putting their stories together to tell a larger tale. To reveal a truth. You rarely use fancy adjectives. Instead, you carefully weave the exact words of those involved in the subject matter to detail what and how and why to the reader.

There is an element of journalism that is critical, and that is ethics. Professor Dennis Hale, my Journalism Law and Ethics professor, was very serious about it. All good journalists are. Put simply, it means journalists don’t twist the truth. They don’t add words someone did not say to make their story more interesting, and they certainly don’t lie – whether it’s in print or in person – about a story or a source.

My career in journalism was short. I worked as a reporter and then a copy editor before I “joined the dark side,” as my journalism friends said. I became a public relations professional. Yes, I still write. But I also promote. I invent quotes in press releases, and my job is to make my clients look their best – always. That means I no longer tell people’s stories word for word. I’m not the one who reveals truths and works to ensure accountability in government. I don’t inform the public of important happenings. I don’t expose corruption.

So I have to call myself a “former” journalist. And I hate that. Journalism was a place I excelled. No, I didn’t work for The Boston Globe or The Chicago Tribune. Or NBC News. I won a few awards for my contributions to local publications that I’m still so proud of they hang in my home office. More importantly, being a journalist was who I was. As a former journalist, I held true to what it meant to be one. I didn’t embellish, lie or make myself – or someone else – look better in print.

While the nightly NBC newscast won’t be the same without him, and members of Congress lie too, and he was a favorite so I will forgive him, Brian Williams needs to be a former journalist. Because, like me, he just doesn’t qualify for the job anymore.

It may be sad. But that, at least, is the truth.