by Jay Rosen
Jay Rosen is chair of the journalism department at New York University and the author of What Are Journalists For?

David Shaw's investigation of the Staples affair at the Los Angeles Times reminds me of Black Hawk Down, the best-seller by Philadelphia Inquirer reporter Mark Bowden. Originally a newspaper series, the book describes from every horrific angle the street battle in Mogadishu, Somalia, in October 1993, where eighteen Americans and some 500 Somalis were killed.

Like Bowden, Shaw wrote the anatomy of a disaster. Like Bowden, he talked to almost everyone on the inside. The plot for both authors turned on a simple question: How could such a thing happen? To answer, they had to narrate from multiple perspectives, reconstructing more than events. They tried to show what each participant understood -- and failed to grasp -- during critical stages in the folly. The truth lies there, they said.

Of course, no one died in Los Angeles, but the impact in the newsroom was the equivalent of a train wreck. And the crash site for Times journalists was their own newspaper. So if the lead character in Shaw's story is The Wall between business and editorial, the entire episode breached another wall -- between doing journalism and having it done to you.

Shaw's piece followed the public trauma at the Times as it underwent scrutiny by its national competitors. It was partly because of this scrutiny, after some hesitation, that the newspaper decided to report on its disaster. Shaw's epic "Crossing the Line" emerged. (Full disclosure: Shaw critiqued my book in the November/December cjr.)

As a result, reporters and editors at the Times received a gift: a chance to greet for themselves the mix of pain, panic, shame, rage, and confusion that beset the players in a scandal once it gets out. Instead of exposing, they were the ones exposed. The ironies are obvious, but irony is not the whole story. "Crossing the Line" reveals some of the limitations of prevailing wisdom in the press. I note the following:

* Working journalists have often said to me: How can we report on ourselves? Who would believe us? Shaw's piece suggests: you report on yourselves by assigning a trusted reporter. You answer his questions, give him enough space, and take other measures in recognition of the special circumstances. Thus, the paper selected George Cotliar, a retired managing editor, to oversee the assignment, a prudent move that prevented the bosses from playing two roles. Difficult to report on yourself? Yes. Impossible? No. And if you do it well, you may emerge as more believable, not less. "Crossing the Line" showed that the Times was serious about admitting fault, a major step in regaining trust.

* When you have a personal stake in a story, you are disqualified from reporting on it. Most journalists believe this. But in Los Angeles, the opposite seemed true. Who in America was more qualified than Shaw? The Staples story touched every theme in his work over a long and distinguished career. This helps explain the clamor in the newsroom (from Shaw and others) demanding that editor Michael Parks assign the piece to his Pulitzer Prize-winning media reporter. Shaw was the right person, as Parks eventually saw. He was right not because he had no stake, but because he understood, personally, the enormity of the stakes for himself, friends and colleagues, bosses, the newspaper, the city, the craft.

* Journalists often claim that their job is not to improve things, but simply to report things. "Let the chips fall where they may . . ." is to them a matter of honor. Shaw's investigation obeyed this commandment, and rightly so. But as a work of journalism, was it really distinct from other work the Times had ahead of it -- repairing the damage, restoring confidence, preventing future disasters? No doubt the newsroom staff wanted his report to be truthful, unflinching, and fair. But my guess is they also wanted it to spur changes at the Times: a restoration of The Wall, a renewed respect for journalism and its ethical code, an emboldened newsroom more able to resist encroachment. It's common wisdom that even to think about "outcomes" from your reporting endangers your reporting. Was this true for Shaw in "Crossing the Line?" Hard to believe so. And when the Times published a list of reforms the day before Shaw's report, the connection was made clear.

Igrant that a self-report on the Staples scandal is an extraordinary case, an institutional crisis not to be wished on anyone. Still, the fact that Shaw succeeded, and was expected to succeed, tells me something. The culture of the press is strong enough to undertake (and withstand) serious self-scrutiny, which is different in kind from the scrutiny of Brill's Content, Howard Kurtz, cjr, or any other outsider.

Given its role in watchdogging everyone else; given the recent alarm about public trust; given the likelihood that journalism will continue to be done in a corporate setting, with conflicts abounding, the argument for regularly investigating yourself gains strength. Why wait for a runaway scandal? I know about ombudsmen, readers advocates, news councils, and the like. Beyond these lie the forms of reporting that make good on an intriguing pledge the Times put to readers: "We believe we must be able to shine as bright a light on ourselves as we do on others." Linked to improvements in practice, this belief may illuminate the next frontier in credibility -- understood as valuable for the media business and vital to the journalism profession.

They don't give Pulitzer Prizes specifically for outstanding self-examination. But does anyone in the press know why? Suppose such a prize did exist. The entries would probably get better and better with time, as I am told they often do in the Pulitzers. And that could only mean that journalists are getting better at leveling with themselves, exposing problems and conflicts, finding a self-critique as pointed as their other practices.

Not every story will be as dramatic or painful as Black Hawk Down in the Newsroom. But surely the point is to avoid such episodes. So maybe the Staples scandal will push journalists down the path of serious self-scrutiny. If it doesn't, I hope some talented reporter asks why -- and at what cost.

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