Recently, Jay Rosen asked Austin Bay (“Weekly Standard writer, NPR commentator, Iraq War vet, Colonel in the Army Reserve, Republican, conservative, blogger with a lit PhD”) to guest-blog about the press, the Bush administration, and the war. Bay’s long post provoked a total of 441 comments on Jay’s site and 45 on Bay’s blog (so far). I haven’t read all the comments, but it appears that they generated more heat than light. In particular, there was a lot of passionate discussion of the media’s alleged bias against Republicans, little of which–on either side–seemed particularly illuminating. But Bay’s original essay was interesting, and I would like to address his thesis from a different angle.

Bay proposes that the United States is locked in an “information war waged by an enemy that is itself a strategic information power,” namely, Al Qaeda. The American press has an influence on that war. How it presents the American military, Guantanamo, the Iraqi election, and other key matters will help determine whether people around the world embrace Bin Laden, Bush, or some alternative. And what ideology people adopt is the key question in this “war.”

Meanwhile, the Bush Administration and conservatives have a very bad relationship with the mainstream American news media. To a large extent, Bay blames journalists for the poor state of that relationship, arguing that they are biased in liberal, urban, and civilian directions. Nevertheless, he argues, the Bush people need the press to support the long-term struggle against Al Qaeda and Islamic extremism, or else we will fail:

America must win the War On Terror, and the poisoned White House?national press relationship harms that effort. History will judge the Bush Administration?s prosecution of the War On Terror. A key strategic issue for the current White House?perhaps a determinative issue for historians?will be its success or failure in getting subsequent administrations to sustain the political and economic development policies that truly winning the War On Terror will entail.

Bay, a conservative pundit who is angry at the “liberal media” and presents a long bill of specific grievances, nevertheless recommends that the Bush Administration try to improve its relationship with journalists.

Now, here’s my response. First, the press powerfully helps or hinders American presidents and administrations in achieving their policy goals. It is not neutral, although it can be diverse. Second, the relationship between the press and the White House has changed dramatically, in ways that make life more difficult for presidents.

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Like many news stories, this one began when an influential local figure made remarks that were seen as offensive. Willie F. Wilson, former mayoral candidate and current pastor of a Southeast Washington Baptist church, said in a taped sermon that “lesbianism is about to take over our community. … Sisters making more money than brothers and it’s creating problems in families … that’s one of the reasons many of our women are becoming lesbians. … I ain’t homophobic because everybody here got something wrong with him. But –” and he proceeded to make disparaging remarks about gay sex which I’d rather not paste on this PG-rated website.

By the following Sunday, according to the Washington Post, “TV trucks were in front of the church and reporters were in the pews,” waiting for Rev. Wilson’s apology. But he said, “I ain’t got nothing to say to you. You don’t know us. You don’t care about us. Get off this phone. Don’t call me no more.”

Let me stipulate: a) I don’t condone the Reverend’s comments, and b) reporters and other people have a legal right to ask questions about what he said and to request an apology–the First Amendment covers their speech and allows them to stand outside the church. But these are my questions: Is the content of a sermon anyone else’s business? Is it appropriate for those TV trucks to park outside the church, demanding a public response? When does speech become “public” in the sense that the speaker owes an apology if what he says is wrong or offensive?

On the one hand … There is a lot of violence and discrimination against gays. While Rev. Wilson’s sermon did not explicitly incite mistreatment of lesbians, the minister used his religious authority to denigrate gays, which surely increases their vulnerability. Since the clergy have a First Amendment right to say bad things about gays, the only possible response is for gay people–and their straight supporters–to intervene rhetorically. Thus it’s appropriate to quote Rev. Wilson’s speech, to criticize it, to ask him to apologize, and to stick TV microphones in his face.

On the other hand … I am moved by Rev. Wilson’s statement about the media: “You don’t know us. You don’t care about us.” Even if what he said was completely wrong (factually and morally), that doesn’t mean that reporters have standing to make an issue out of it. It’s not as if the daily work of the Union Temple Baptist Church gets much coverage in the Washington Post. (There have been 443 mentions of the church since 1987, but most appear to be very incidental.) The whole neighborhood tends not to be covered unless murders occur there. The Post has no ongoing relationships with the congregation.

When reporters decide to quote a statement, and then call other people who may be offended to get their responses, they are making a choice. They are claiming an oversight or “watchdog” role with respect to the person who spoke. If they heard a teenager making an anti-gay slur while walking down the street, they would not write an article about it. They surely should tell us if an elected official utters a slur, even in private. Their decision to quote the Rev. Wilson’s sermon shows that they believe that what goes on inside his church is public business. But on other occasions, they don’t treat his congregration as if it had public importance.

I confess that I am protective of Union Temple Baptist Church and its privacy because I generally feel that the press is unfair and unhelpful to poor, African American urban communities. They only show up at the embarrassing moments. However, what Rev. Wilson said–“You don’t know us. You don’t care about us”–could also be said by a white fundamentalist preacher in the suburbs.

If Karl Rove committed a crime, then he should face the consequences, and it’s a matter for the criminal justice system. It’s a different question whether the rest of us–the press, the political parties, and the public–should focus attention on this case. I say no, for the following reasons:

First, the public consequences are unlikely to be good. If Rove is forced to resign in disgrace, voters will not be one ounce more likely to favor progressive policies or to trust the Democrats as the party of solutions. The President will lose Rove’s daily presence, but no one’s advice is all that valuable–and even if Bush fires Rove, he will still be able to consult his consigliere privately. One clear consequence will be the continued impression that Washington careers end with criminal prosecutions on obscure statutes. That impression is not helpful if we hope to attract good people to public service. Rove may be at fault for bringing an investigation on himself. But that doesn’t make the investigation a good thing, nor should we all follow the case intently and try to milk it for political purposes. The political “milking” of scandals is unsightly.

Second, Rove’s alleged leak, if it occurred, was wrong. However, there are vital public issues that should provoke our outrage, and I don’t see why we should focus any of our limited emotional energies on a classic case of Beltway Hardball. I’m trying to save my own attention and energy for our high school graduation rate (which is about 68%), the 5.6 million Americans who are in jail or have been released from prison, the global AIDS epidemic, our reliance on foreign oil, the pending fiscal crunch as the Boomers begin to retire, and Iraq. What Karl Rove said to whom is just a diversion.

Third, if we spend time thinking about Rove, then we must have decided that we are a virtual jury. Our job is to decide whether powerful celebrities are guilty or innocent and register our verdicts in opinion polls (if anyone happens to poll us). Or perhaps we think of politics as a contact sport, played by two relatively small teams of national pros. Then the question is whether Rove can play the second half–or was his foul so bad that he has to sit it out? Whether we’re a bunch of spectators or a virtual jury, we have no serious responsibilities or opportunities. But if we were focused, for example, on the high school graduation rate, then there would be much for us to do–starting in the schools of our own communities.

Fourth, despite claims by Frank Rich and others that the Rove case is “worse than Watergate,” I see it as a perfect cliche. With the heat and humidity of a Washington July, we almost always see criminal investigations of high officials in the incumbent administration, especially during a second term. This is not so much the tragedy of Watergate repeating as farce; it’s the annual ritual, replayed without conviction or intensity. I’m ready to change the channel.

Finally, the Rove case raises interesting issues (about the press, confidentiality agreements, the Supreme Court, the legal system, etc.) Like any national scandal, it can have an educative purpose for adults as well as kids. However, if we’re not careful, most of the “lessons” will be harmful. We will reinforce the proposition that “politics” involves a few powerful people in Washington–mostly in the executive branch–rather than a million decisions made throughout society. We will confirm people’s sense that politics is a nasty game, and the endgame is usually prosecution. And we will continue to teach journalists that their heroes ought to be Woodward and Bernstein. As Jay Rosen writes:

Watergate has been treated by journalists as a consensus narrative, with an agreed-upon lesson for all Americans. The Fourth Estate model not only works, it can save us. The press shall know the truth and the truth shall check the powers that be, whether Democrat or Republican. Chasing stories, exposing corruption, giving voice to the downtrodden: that’s what we in journalism do, the myth says. We do it for the American people. And they understand because they know from legend–from the movies–how it was when the country was in the dark about Nixon and Watergate.

But if our problems are incarceration, high school dropout rates, oil dependence, and Iraq, then the press certainly cannot “save us” by revealing who said what about Valerie Plame.

While I was waiting for take-out food yesterday, I heard a talking head on what appeared to be a news show announce that the Michael Jackson trial was “without question the trial of the decade so far, and therefore of the century.” I can actually think of some other contenders for that title. For example:

Any other suggestions for the top ten?