The death of Dr V: ethics should matter more to journalists than storytelling
A Grantland article outing a trans person sparked a furore. Transparency doesn’t account for the fact that a journalist’s truth is not greater than that of their subjects
Sometime around 18 October 2013, Dr Essay Anne Vanderbilt died alone. She killed herself shortly after learning that details of her former life were going to be exposed by a journalist who regarded the fact that she was born male a point of fascination. Journalist Caleb Hannan dedicated close to 8,000 words to her life on Grantland, unravelling the thread of his article as some kind of perverse gonzo whodunit with little apparent reflection or regret about the role he may have played in the tragedy. Using an almost scientific level of transparency, he detailed almost every interaction he had with Vanderbilt, down to those where she pleaded with him not to write the story.
Vanderbilt had come to Hannan’s attention as the inventor of a "magical" golf putter, which Vanderbilt requested they focus on rather than her. “What began as a story about a brilliant woman with a new invention had turned into the tale of a troubled man who had invented a new life for himself,” Hannan wrote. It is a tale that, if left untold, would have little consequence to anyone.
It’s not right to say that Hannan is responsible for Vanderbilt’s suicide, as many are now doing – the issues around suicide and mental health are too complex for that. However, the pursuit of the subject in the way Hannan did was misguided and lacking in compassion or understanding of his subject. As a result, the piece reads like the ego trip of someone who does not understand his role, nevermind his power, as a journalist.
It’s now the second time in as many weeks that wide-spread attention has turned to the journalist, rather than the story they were telling. When the journalist of a subject becomes the subject of journalism there’s been a failure of accountability in the system – accountability to themselves, their editor, subject and readers. The consequences of this can be annoyance at times (“Is this news?”) and despondence at others (“This is why the media is dying!”), but the story of Vanderbilt brings into sharp focus why this matters.
Hannan employed transparency in his detailed, first person writing style as a journalistic device employed to make him seem accountable. But here’s the thing: as journalism moves to a more commendable open format, transparency does not absolve responsibility. There needs to be some deeper thinking on what constitutes ethically responsible journalism in the age of transparency. We cannot hide behind it as a defence when our actions are wrong – they are wrong whether behind closed doors or out in the open. Hannan’s piece should never have been published; there was no obvious news interest outweighing Vanderbilt's right not to be outed.
There is no divinely-granted permission to journalists as an authority on what constitutes truth, or what is and is not news, and what should and should not be pursued (referred to as journalists' “priesthood syndrome”). Transparency doesn’t account for the fact that a journalist’s truth is not greater than that of their subjects. Part of a journalist’s role is to know that, and perhaps it’s time to add this to journalists’ code of ethics. As a side note, guidelines for transgender reporting would not go astray either.
It’s not the first time there’s been an apparent misunderstanding of new media principles, perhaps an attempt to bring back the glory days when the media fancied itself the sole arbiter of truth – a belief that was both wrong and misguided. Vanderbilt summed it up perfectly in her final statement to Hannan (an irony lost on him):
“Nobody knows my life but me,” she said. “You don’t know what the truth is.”
• If you have been affected by the issues raised in this article, for information and support, visit the Samaritans website or call 08457 909090
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