The conventions were still weeks away when President Bush's campaign
started linking John Kerry to a Nazi in a web
campaign video. Whether that's a step up or down from the Reagan
years, when Democrats were Communists is unclear. But it's not a good omen
of things to come. Maybe we'll have our first Presidential debate/smackdown
before it's all over.
A religion writer covering the campaign might at least ask the
president to explain how this Nazi ad fits with his admiration of Jesus as
a political philosopher. Jesus, you may recall, is the one who said that
calling your brother "a fool" could land you in hell. I don't
even want to think about where calling him a Nazi would land you. The Bush
campaign website's response to the criticism was something like the
liberals did it first." That doesn't sound much like "turn
the other cheek."
One of the most frustrating moments of the last presidential
campaign-at least for religion writers-was hearing then-Governor Bush give
his "Jesus
changed my heart" response, and having no one ask a follow up
question like, "How does that affect your policy decisions?"
There was an awkward silence after Bush gave that answer. No one wanted to
ask "What Would Jesus Do" on the campaign trail, or even better,
in the Oval Office.
It's still a valid question now- as valid as the questions about the
conflict between Senator Kerry's
Catholic faith and his voting record. We've got a faith-based
President. Let's line up the teachings of his faith and his actions as
president and see how they compare.
At least we'd be assured of a story that didn't have the word
"attacked,"
"slammed," "accused," "denied," or
"blasted" in its first sentence. Here in Chicago, at least,
that's standard practice for most campaign stories. Here the big campaign
news came when Republican
Jack Ryan dropped out of the Senate race against Barack
Obama after the local media sued to have the files from his divorce
unsealed-revealing that his wife accused him of being interested in kinky
sex.
That's what passes for front-page news in this 24-7, relentless world
of campaign journalism. A religion journalist, whose world runs by a
different clock, would at least bring a pair of fresh eyes to the campaign
trail and look for stories that aren't driven by sound bites or scandal.
A religion writer would also remember the old City
News Service adage, "If your mother says she loves you, check it
out."
The same applies for politics-just because a candidate says something,
or a national newspaper reports it, doesn't mean it's so.
That's becoming increasingly true, argues Bryan Keefer in the Columbia
Journalism Review, as campaigns are using a "toxic tsunami"
of misleading information to swamp reporters and get their version of the
facts in the news.
Here's how Keefer described it: "President Bush, Senator Kerry,
and their operatives are deliberately using a cynical combination of
calculated deception, speed, and volume to exploit the press's reluctance
to call a lie a lie. Rather than sorting through the facts and pointing
out what is true and what is not - something good reporters are qualified
to do - we too often treat the truth as something the reader or viewer
should be able to discern from competing bits of spin."
To put another way, instead of "he said, she said," we get
"he lies, she lies." And as Keefer points out, the lies often
stay in the news for weeks at a time, because no one has time to fact
check and weed them out.
Here's where a religion writer might help. Religion, like sports, is
filled with nit-picking details, that if you get them wrong-like
misquoting a Bible verse or <
>
calling Episcopalians "Episcopals" instead-you'll get an earful
from readers and religious leaders. Religion writers who don't do their
homework, go back to their sources, and get the details right are in a lot
of trouble.
Two quick examples:
The LA
Times ran a story in June about a new set of political guidelines
being drafted by the National Association of Evangelicals, which included
"progressive" causes like caring for the environment and just
wages for the poor. As Kathryn Joyce points out in The Revealer,
other news sources picked the story up and angled it as if it heralded
"a new era of 'kinder, gentler' evangelicals, who were about to make
a mammoth shift to the left."
Unfortunately, as Joyce and Ted Olsen of Christianity
Today pointed out, it appears that none of the other news sources read
the NAE draft. If they did, news of the left-swinging Evangelical
revolution would have died quickly.
The same is true in the coverage of stem cell on the campaign trail.
Soon after Ronald Reagan's passing, John Kerry gave the national Democratic
National Radio Address. He cited Nancy Reagan's support for stem cell
research and the claim that it held great promise of curing Alzheimer's
disease. The only thing is, as The
Washington Post reported a few days before Kerry's radio address, stem
cells hold little promise for Alzheimer's.
"I think the chance of doing repairs to Alzheimer's brains by
putting in stem cells is small," stem cell researcher Michael
Shelanski, co-director of the Taub
Institute for Research on Alzheimer's Disease and the Aging Brain at
the Columbia University Medical Center in New York, told Rick Weiss of the
Post.
Then Weiss found another stem cell researcher who admitted that while
the Alzheimer's claim is doubtful, it makes good PR. "To start with,
people need a fairy tale," Ronald D.G. McKay, a stem cell researcher
at the <> National Institute of
Neurological Disorders and Stroke told Weiss. "Maybe that's
unfair, but they need a story line that's relatively simple to
understand."
Still, in Thursday's speech at the Democratic convention, Kerry touted
stem cells as a way to cure Alzheimer's.
Because stem cells has already been spun to fit the Galileo
model-religious conservatives standing in the way of scientific
progress-no one's asking hard questions of stem cell supporters.
Would a religion reporter be able to thrive in the 24/7, cutthroat,
spin -driven world of political reporting? I don't know. Perhaps they,
like everyone else, would get swamped by the toxic tsunami.
The religion reporters I know have at least one advantage over
political reporters. They are aren't afraid to call a lie a lie, and are
used to looking for the truth -- not the spin -- in their stories.
And, if nothing else, they wouldn't let candidates -- who say that
their faith shapes their lives -- get away with calling each other Nazis.
Bob Smietana, voice of God-of-Small-Things,
is a features editor of The
Covenant Companion, the monthly magazine of the Evangelical Covenant
Church, and a contributing writer to Christianity
Today and other publications. He lives outside Chicago.