The most famous reporter in the United States is under attack. Bob Woodward, who helped uncover the Watergate scandal that brought down president Richard Nixon, revealed last week that he had been sitting on a crucial piece of information.
Two years ago, a senior official in the administration of President George W. Bush told him the identity of a Central Intelligence Agency operative, Valerie Plame. Mr. Woodward said he didn't think much of the information at the time, dismissing it as a random bit of gossip. But Ms. Plame and the officials who revealed her status have become part of a major national investigation. A special prosecutor has been looking into the allegations that the officials "outed" Ms. Plame as part of a campaign to discredit her husband, Joseph Wilson. Mr. Wilson had accused the administration of twisting intelligence about Iraq's alleged attempt to buy uranium "yellowcake" in Niger.
So, last Monday, Mr. Woodward finally testified that he knew all about Ms. Plame two years ago but didn't tell prosecutors or his newspaper, the Washington Post, for fear of revealing his source. All hell broke loose. The Post called Mr. Woodward on the carpet. Mr. Woodward apologized. The Post newsroom has buzzed with outrage over his failure to tell his colleagues that he had a major part of the puzzle that they were trying to assemble. Others questioned both his integrity and his methods. As The Globe and Mail's Alan Freeman wrote in his story on the affair, "Critics say that Mr. Woodward has abandoned the kind of fearless muckraking that forced president Richard Nixon from office in 1974, and has instead become a trusted confidant of the politically powerful, dutifully listening to their secrets and, in return, writing largely uncritical 'insider' books. 'Hear that hissing noise,' columnist Arianna Huffington wrote on her blog yesterday. 'That's the sound of the air being let out of Woodward's reputation.' "
But hang on a minute. What is it about Mr. Woodward's behaviour that is so very wrong? His method of reporting relies on confidential sources. Without them, he never would have broken Watergate. People tell him things. He agrees to keep their identities secret. That is all that he did here. When prosecutors started commanding reporters such as The New York Times' Judith Miller to reveal their sources in the Plame affair, he decided to keep quiet. Ms. Miller, after all, had to go to jail after refusing to reveal her sources to prosecutors. Mr. Woodward might have faced a similar inquisition. He was not protecting an axe murderer's identity or covering up another Watergate. He was withholding a small piece of information about what is, in the scheme of things, merely a grubby little episode in the annals of Washington partisan politics.
Yes, Mr. Woodward should have toldhis editors earlier about what he knew. And no, it was probably not wise for someone who was a secret actor in the affair to make television appearances commenting acerbically about it (he called the special prosecutor in the case, Patrick Fitzgerald, a "junkyard dog"). But it would be a mistake to dismiss Mr. Woodward's whole method over this one lapse.
His books provide valuable behind-the-scenes accounts of how decisions are made in the most powerful institutions of the world's most powerful nation. The Brethren gave readers insights into little-known workings of the Supreme Court. The Commanders revealed how the Pentagon and the first Bush administration carried out the Persian Gulf war in 1991. Bush at War showed how the current President and his top aides reacted to the 9/11 attacks. Plan of Attack showed how they plunged the country into its toughest military conflict since Vietnam, the Iraq war. Neither of the last two books could remotely be described as apologies for the current administration. The idea that Mr. Woodward has become a stenographer for the White House or handmaid of the ruling class is ridiculous to anyone who has read him.
To put together these remarkable books, Mr. Woodward guarantees his sources that he will shield their identities. Because of that guarantee, he enjoys un-rivalled access to decision makers, who give him stacks of documents and hours of private recollections. In the course of his reporting, he often discovers newsworthy information. He doesn't write it up for the Post till the book is published, at which point the paper gets first shotat printing excerpts and related stories. The paper gains a lot from the relationship, and that is why it gives Mr. Woodward, its assistant managing editor, such free rein.
Mr. Fitzgerald's campaign to force reporters to reveal their sources in the Plame affair has done serious damage to the trust between reporter and source that is the foundation stone of good investigative journalism. The prosecutor successfully forced most of the reporters involved to reveal their sources, and after 85 days in jail even Ms. Miller testified about her source: Vice-President Dick Cheney's chief of staff, Lewis Libby, since charged with lying and obstructingjustice.
Mr. Woodward was rightly appalled by this witch hunt (thus the "junkyard dog" comment) and kept quiet to avoid being dragged into it. Though his decision to hold out on his editors for so long was wrong, his instinct was essentially right. The reporter-source relationship is essential to the workings of a free press. Mr. Woodward is its greatest champion. To tear him down over this minor incident would do even more damage to North American journalism.