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| | PRO-level points: 32, Questions answered: 41, Questions asked: 1 | Sample translations submitted: 1 | English to Chinese: Saved by the Shield | Source text - English
Saved by the Shield
A reporter recalls his legal crucible after the Chiquita story
By Cameron McWhirter
Ten years ago this month began a period of my life that I have come to call my season in hell. It was a prolonged horror of court hearings and depositions following the collapse of The Cincinnati Enquirer¡¯s investigation of Chiquita Brands International. But like all calamities, it delivered unexpected insights. One of the most important for me was a fierce love of shield laws. To all journalists everywhere: you should love them too. These laws are fundamental to what we do. We should be fighting to get a federal shield law passed. So should every citizen who suspects that powerful institutions in our society regularly hide vital information from the public. After years of an uneasy truce between prosecutors and media organizations, federal officials have increasingly been dragging reporters to court and pressing them to reveal confidential sources. It is time to push back.
A decade ago, I learned the hard way that a shield law is one of the most important press protections we have. Shield laws, of course, give journalists the right to keep the names of sources confidential in legal proceedings. They are on the books in thirty-two states and the District of Columbia. Another seventeen states have upheld the idea of reportorial privilege in court cases (Wyoming is the only holdout). But no federal equivalent exists, despite repeated efforts in Congress.
My shield-law saga began on May 3, 1998, when the Enquirer published an eighteen-page special report, CHIQUITA SECRETS REVEALED, which detailed the political, legal, and economic woes of the huge Cincinnati-based banana company. As the number-two reporter on the project, I researched the troubled history of trade disputes between Chiquita and the European Union. I investigated environmental problems caused by pesticide use in banana production in Costa Rica. I interviewed displaced villagers in Honduras, banana farmers in the Caribbean, environmental experts in Washington, scientists in San Jose, and government officials in Brussels. I spent months studying banana production and researching Central American history. I checked my facts dozens of times. A brigade of lawyers vetted every sentence. I was proud of my work. I still am.
Lawyers and editors checked Mike Gallagher¡¯s work as well. He was the lead reporter, and was focusing his work on allegations of Chiquita officials paying bribes at ports in Colombia. He relied heavily on anonymous sources. One of his sources, he claimed, was providing him with recordings of voicemails between Chiquita executives. My editors and the lawyers for Gannett, which owns the Enquirer, told me that I was not to know the identity of Gallagher¡¯s source within Chiquita. If Chiquita sued, they said, the fewer people who knew the identity of this high-ranking source the better.
The project stunned provincial Cincinnati; the Enquirer had never attempted anything as ambitious in its history. But after the series ran, Gallagher unraveled. He argued fiercely with editors and me about strange follow-up stories that he hoped to publish. He ignored the directives of editors. When bosses questioned him yet again about his source and how he obtained information, he never gave clear answers. Worried editors sent Gallagher to an outside lawyer to talk about the project. He returned to announce that, on his lawyer¡¯s advice, he would no longer talk about the project with anyone, inside or outside the Enquirer.
Soon we learned why: Gallagher had lied to us about having a source within Chiquita who had provided him information. Instead, he had illegally accessed Chiquita¡¯s voicemail system himself, hundreds of times, despite being warned repeatedly not to do so by editors and lawyers. It was a stunning case of reporter misconduct, and, obviously, the Enquirer and I were caught in the blast. Under intense pressure from Chiquita, Gannett fired Gallagher, paid $14 million to Chiquita, and published a disturbing front-page apology that implied that Gallagher¡¯s misdeeds had negated the entire series. The Enquirer and the rest of the Cincinnati media abandoned the substantive truth of the series. I was ordered not to write about Chiquita. The ban lasted five years.
It got worse. County officials set up a special prosecutor to investigate the newspaper and individuals who worked on the project. Gallagher, facing criminal prosecution, abandoned his carefully constructed self-image as an intrepid reporter and quickly cut a deal. He waived Ohio¡¯s shield law and agreed to reveal sources. It was stupefying.
Within months of publication of what I thought was the best project of my young career, I found myself sitting in a shabby, windowless conference room in a low-rent section of Cincinnati¡¯s modest downtown. My lawyer and I sat on one side of a scuffed table. The special prosecutor and his associates sat on the other side. They frowned and smoked cigarettes.
The special prosecutor wanted me to do something simple: sign a piece of paper agreeing to waive Ohio¡¯s shield law. Doing so would require me to disclose confidential sources with whom I had spoken during the yearlong investigation. He made clear that the risks of not cooperating were great, and threatened to indict me on unspecified charges. I could lose my job; I could go to jail, he said. I must fully cooperate and waive the shield law or he would come after me. His threats, for a while delivered hourly in telephone calls to my lawyer, ranged wildly. He claimed he was going to prosecute me for being a co-conspirator of some kind. Now that I look back, his threats seem like bluster. At the time, they scared the hell out of me.
But early on in the crisis, I came to an unavoidable conclusion: keeping a source confidential was at the heart of being a journalist. I told the prosecutor I wouldn¡¯t waive the shield. I clung to it.
Before the Chiquita fiasco, I considered journalistic responsibilities and rights in the abstract. I had a dim sense that the great challenges of my unfolding career might involve dodging bullets in a foreign war or secretly meeting some high-ranking White House official in a parking lot. Someday, in the future, I would be that journalist, I thought.
These notions, of course, evaporated in Cincinnati. My challenge was in that room with the chain-smoking special prosecutor. The question was not what journalist was I going to become, but what journalist was I at that moment. In this life, we learn about what we really believe not when things go well, but when they go wrong. I learned in that room that I would face jail rather than discuss confidential sources.
Looking back, I believe that my position was not machismo; it was an innate reaction as a reporter. I wasn¡¯t just refusing to identify a particular person or persons; I was asserting that journalists, even amid failed projects, must stick to their promises and their rules. These rules did not evolve haphazardly; they developed naturally out of our essential role in an open society. Courts have not recognized the right of journalists to refuse to identify sources as flowing from the First Amendment. But journalists have resisted identifying sources since before the American Revolution.
I also don¡¯t think my position was romantic. Reporters don¡¯t promise confidentiality because of an idealized notion of the whistleblower. Though sometimes confidential sources are indeed heroic and altruistic, more often they are not. They sometimes have base motives, like revenge or personal gain. Some have political motives. Others have a grudge. Some are criminals, which can raise special complications that the courts have wrestled with over the years.
In fact, in the Supreme Court case that launched the modern shield-law movement, Branzburg v. Hayes (1972), Paul Branzburg, a Louisville Courier-Journal reporter, tried to assert First Amendment rights in refusing to reveal the identity of two hashish dealers he had profiled. (See ¡°Attack at the Source,¡± by Douglas McCollam, CJR, March/April 2005.) The Supreme Court ruled five to four that the First Amendment does not protect journalists from having to testify against sources. The fact that Branzburg was shielding drug dealers didn¡¯t help him. In its opinion, however, the majority acknowledged that ¡°without some protection for seeking out the news, freedom of the press could be eviscerated.¡± This phrase helped press-freedom supporters argue for the creation and strengthening of shield laws in many states. What the First Amendment could not do, shield laws would.
Sometimes. In 1978, the New York Times reporter Myron Farber went to jail in New Jersey instead of revealing confidential sources on his story about a doctor charged with murdering his patients. More recently, in the performance-enhancing-drug scandal involving the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative (BALCO), San Francisco Chronicle reporters Lance Williams and Mark Fainaru-Wada risked federal prison for a source. With no shield law to protect them, the reporters were headed to prison. At the eleventh hour, a witness tipped off the FBI that Troy Ellerman, the company president¡¯s lawyer, was the source. Confronted, Ellerman confessed. (The attorney cited his own cocaine and alcohol abuse as a factor in his decision to leak sealed grand-jury testimony.)
As you can see, sources often are not the kind of people you¡¯d want as babysitters. Yet the reporters were right to not name names. In the case of BALCO, the work made an obvious contribution to the public¡¯s knowledge of steroid drug abuse and aided public discussion of the topic. The issue gets more complicated in the Valerie Plame case, which became a kind of media Rorschach test: war opponents saw the New York Times reporter Judith Miller as an uncritical lapdog schmoozing with the Bush administration; media critics saw the Washington press corps as grotesquely sucking up to power. Miller¡¯s source, Scooter Libby, seemed to be out to smear Plame¡¯s husband, Joseph Wilson, in White House revenge for his revelations that were damaging to the administration¡¯s prewar case against Iraq. Many journalists are convinced that this incident was not the moment to assert the principle of not revealing sources, that it was problematic. Still, I believe Miller made the correct decision to go to jail rather than reveal a source. She did what she was supposed to do. Until Libby personally released Miller from her pledge of confidentiality, she stuck by her word and asserted the principle.
It¡¯s a simple equation: if people with sensitive information are more likely to get in trouble when they contact reporters, fewer of them will do it. If fewer people come forward, less critical information gets to the public. Democracy is not served.
In the current session of Congress, a federal shield law, pushed by Indiana Republican Mike Pence and others, passed the House and passed the Senate Judiciary Committee (see ¡°The Shield Bearer,¡± CJR, May/June 2007). Since then, however, the bill has languished, waiting to be called to the Senate floor for a vote. If the bill dies in this Congress, we can only hope the same bipartisan group that pushed it will reintroduce another next session. All three presidential candidates have said they support the concept of the shield law.
Journalists often talk about confidentiality when recounting stories that went journalistically right¡ªWatergate being the classic example. Promises of confidentiality are more important when things go wrong¡ªand that is when a shield law is most needed. A source taking a risk to provide information doesn¡¯t want to know what the journalist will say if everything goes smoothly. He or she wants to know that the reporter will not be compelled to talk if everything goes bust.
Toni Locy, formerly of USA Today, was found in contempt recently by a federal judge for refusing to reveal her confidential sources for a story about Steven Hatfill, the bioweapons scientist who is suing the government for naming him a ¡°person of interest¡± in the 2001 anthrax cases. Former Attorney General John Ashcroft himself named Hatfill at a press conference, but whatever case the government was trying to build fell apart. Hatfill was never charged with anything. He has every legal right to sue the government and pursue his case. Hatfill¡¯s lawyers feel forcing Locy to violate confidentiality will somehow further their case. They are pressing the issue for one simple reason: they can. There is no legal protection on confidentiality for journalists in federal court. They are not concerned with journalists¡¯ ethical code; they just want to win. Would Hatfill¡¯s lawyers try to force other lawyers to abandon attorney-client privilege? They wouldn¡¯t think of it.
But Locy faces jail time and steep fines. U.S. District Court Judge Reggie Walton even tried to forbid USA Today from paying those fines. An appeals court overruled him, thankfully, but the fact that Locy is in this position at all is appalling. Similar cases have popped up in federal courts in Washington, D.C., Illinois, California, and elsewhere.
Critics kick around a standard series of questions regarding the creation of a federal shield law. Should journalists be granted shield protections for any story they write, whether about a corrupt politician or the moment¡¯s plummeting celebrity? Who is a journalist, anyway? These are legitimate concerns. But they can be resolved with healthy debate. Another question that gets asked also has an answer: Are we really missing any stories without a federal shield law?
In truth, we don¡¯t know exactly what stories we are missing. But it¡¯s a safe assumption that as the risk of identification increases, fewer sources will come forward, and the public will have less information. Many questions raised about shield laws divert the discussion away from the fundamental point: the shield-law privilege is vital because it makes reporters neutral parties in any legal problems sources may encounter. That is its great function and sole purpose. Sources must know that by coming forth with information, they risk consequences. They will be sought out. However, they must also know that reporters will not reveal their names.
Unlike Judy Miller and Toni Locy and many others through the years, I had shield protection in the Chiquita case. Ohio¡¯s shield law reads:
No person engaged in the work of, or connected with, or employed by any newspaper or any press association for the purpose of gathering, procuring, compiling, editing, disseminating, or publishing news shall be required to disclose the source of any information procured or obtained by such person in the course of his employment, in any legal proceeding, trial, or investigation before any court, grand jury, petit jury, or any officer thereof, before the presiding officer of any tribunal, or his agent, or before any commission, department, division, or bureau of this state, or before any county or municipal body, officer or committee thereof.
Nowhere in the legislation does it state the stories must meet some standard of societal importance. Or that the sources must meet some standard of ethical behavior. It¡¯s a blanket privilege. And Ohio¡¯s legal system has not collapsed since the shield law¡¯s passage, back in 1953.
Of course, the Chiquita fiasco was by no means a simple shield-law case. Prosecutors went looking for chinks in the shield law in part because Mike Gallagher wasn¡¯t just protecting sources. He broke the law. Gannett had no choice but to fire him. Facing prosecution, Gallagher quickly cashed in the only chit he had: he rolled on sources. He pleaded guilty to felonies, received probation, and promptly left journalism.
Then the prosecutors turned to me, and to others involved in the project. In my final showdown meeting with the special prosecutor, I wasn¡¯t sure what he would do. I had resolved that it didn¡¯t matter; I would stand by the journalistic principle of source confidentiality. I remember the moment: I held firm; the prosecutor stared at my face for a while, then shrugged. To my surprise, he backed down. He had threatened me for weeks, but this last meeting ended with a whimper. I signed a revamped document, which simply required me to tell the truth while maintaining the shield law¡ªsomething I had done all along.
A few months later, a new special prosecutor (the county let the previous one go) assured me in a brief meeting that he wouldn¡¯t challenge my right to the shield law. I took the witness stand once in a preliminary hearing in April 1999. I testified that an individual at one point had offered the Enquirer access codes to Chiquita¡¯s voicemail, and I had given the information to Gallagher, since I wasn¡¯t sure what we could do with it. I testified that Gallagher told me that an unnamed source had already provided him with the codes, and also that Gannett lawyers and editors had instructed him numerous times not to access Chiquita¡¯s voicemail after he admitted he had briefly done so. No one asked me to identify anyone, and within minutes my involvement in any criminal proceedings was over.
The legal matters didn¡¯t end, however; several civil cases dragged on for years, past when even the Enquirer cared to cover it in its pages. I was deposed numerous times. In several depositions, I had to repeatedly refuse to answer questions regarding confidential sources. At one point, a person whom Gallagher earlier had named as a source sued Gannett, claiming breach of contract. Along the way, he tried to get Enquirer employees, including me, to back up Gallagher¡¯s assertion that he had indeed been a source. His lawyers were trying to force a journalist to reveal confidential sources in an attempt to prove their client had been revealed. Yes, it was as absurd as it sounds. The shield law¡¯s importance for the free flow of information became clearer to me every time a lawyer pressed me to talk. Five years after the mess began, the U.S. Court of Appeals in Cincinnati upheld my right to the shield. The questions stopped.
To this day, I¡¯m not sure exactly what transpired in all the legal wrangling. If I had waived the shield, would it have made a difference in who was prosecuted or how they were charged? Thanks to the shield law, I¡¯ll never know. In the last ten years, people occasionally have asked me about my anonymous sources on the Chiquita project. I tell them what I have always said: I won¡¯t discuss it.
| Translation - Chinese
救命盾牌
一位记者回忆奇基塔风波发生后自己经受的严峻的司法考验
卡麦隆•麦克沃特（Cameron McWhirter）
十年前的这个月，我经历了一段艰难日子，我把它称之为生命中的地狱煎熬。那是在《辛辛那提问询报》（The Cincinnati Enquirer）所做的关于奇基塔牌国际公司（Chiquita Brands International）的调查报道崩溃之后，所带来的漫长而恐怖的法庭听证和作证。不过，和一切灾难一样，那段日子也给我带来意料之外的认识，其中重要的一点就是使我狂热地爱上了盾牌法（译者：又称新闻记者保障法，是保障新闻从业人员可以拒绝说出机密消息来源的法律）。各地所有的新闻工作者们：你们也应该热爱盾牌法。这些法律是我们工作的基础，我们应该努力奋斗，促使联邦盾牌法获得通过，每一位怀疑强力机构在我们这个开放社会中经常对公众藏匿重要信息的公民也应该支持联邦盾牌法。检察官和媒体机构在经历了多年不稳定的休战之后，联邦官员日益把记者拖上法庭，逼迫他们吐露秘密信息来源，现在是反击的时候了。
十年前，我艰难地领悟到，盾牌法是我们拥有的保护媒体业的最重要的工具之一，它当然给了新闻工作者在法律诉讼过程中对秘密信息来源进行保密的权力。在32个州和哥伦比亚特区中，都有盾牌法，另外17个州也支持庭审中的报道权这一思想（怀俄明州是惟一的例外）。不过虽然国会一再做出努力，在联邦政府中依然没有这类法律存在。
我的盾牌法传奇始于1998年5月3日，当时《问询报》刊登了长达18页的特别报道《揭密奇基塔》（CHIQUITA SECRETS REVEALED），详细揭示了这个总部设在辛辛那提的巨型香蕉公司所带来的政治、法律和经济灾难。我作为这个报道计划的次席记者，研究了奇基塔公司和欧洲联盟（European Union）麻烦不断的贸易争端史，调查了在哥斯达黎加种植香蕉时因使用杀虫刹所导致的环境问题，采访了被迫离开家园的洪都拉斯村民、加勒比地区的蕉农、华盛顿的环境专家、圣何塞的科学家和布鲁塞尔的政府官员。我花了数月时间研究香蕉生产和中美洲地区的历史，数十次核查我所获得的事实。一群律师审查了我所写的每一句话。我对的作品感到自豪，直到今天依然如此。
律师和编辑也审查了迈克•加拉格尔（Mike Gallagher）写的报道，他是首席记者，主要负责调查奇基塔公司官员贿赂哥伦比亚港口官员的消息是否属实。他大量依赖匿名信息来源，并且宣称其中一个信息来源向他提供了奇基塔公司官员的语音信箱录音。我的编辑和《问询报》的母公司甘乃特（Gannett）公司的律师对我说，我不用知道加拉格尔的奇基塔公司内部信息来源，他们说，如果奇基塔公司起诉《问询报》，那么知道这个高级信息来源身份的人越少越好。
这场报道震惊了辛辛那提地区，《问询报》有史以来还没有做过如此大胆的报道。但当这个系列报道开始刊登之后，加拉格尔却越来越不靠谱。他想让一些奇怪的追踪报道见报，关于这件事他曾和编辑以及我进行过激烈争吵，他还把编辑的指导当成耳旁风。当老板们一再对他的信息来源和他如何获得相关信息的提出疑问时，他老是含混过去。焦急的编辑们让加拉格尔去找公司之外的律师谈这场报道，回来后他却宣称，根据他的律师建议，他将不再和任何人谈论此次报道，不管是在《问询报》内部还是在报社以外。
我们很快就了解到原因。加拉格尔对我们撒谎了，根本没有奇基塔公司内部信息来源向他提供资料。实际上，他是自行非法进入了奇基塔公司的语音信箱系统，而且多达数百次，尽管编辑和律师一再警告他不得这样做。这是一个惊人的记者不端行为，而且《问询报》和我显然都被卷入了这场风暴。在奇基塔公司的强大压力下，甘乃特公司开除了加拉格尔，并且赔偿奇基塔公司9600多万人民币（1400万美元），还在报纸头版刊登了一则令人不安的道歉，暗示加拉格尔的不端行为使整个系列报道遭到否定。《问询报》和辛辛那提的其它媒体放弃了这些系列报道中的大量事实，我受令不得再写关于奇基塔公司的新闻，这个禁令持续了5年之久。
更坏的还在后面。县官员设立了一个特别检察官，调查从事这场报道的报纸和个人。面临刑事指控的加拉格尔放弃了自己精心构建的勇敢记者的形象，迅速和检方达成协议。他不援引俄亥俄州的盾牌法，同意披露信息来源。这真让人目瞪口呆。
我认为，此前数月所发表报道是我年轻的职业生涯以来最好的报道，但报道失败之后我却发现自己坐在一个破旧并且没有窗户的会议室里，这个会议室位于辛辛那提不起眼的市中心的廉租区。我的律师和我坐在一张有磨损的桌子的一边，特别检察官和他的助手坐在另一边。他们皱着眉头抽雪茄。
特别检察官想让我做的事很简单：在一份文件上签名同意放弃俄亥俄州的盾牌法。如果我签名的话，就需要披露在持续一年的调查中曾经和我谈过话的秘密信息来源。他明确表示，如果我不合作，将会面临巨大风险，并且威胁以没有明确说明的指控起诉我。他说，我可能会丢掉工作，可能进监狱，我必须全面合作，放弃新闻记者保障法，否则他会对我穷追不舍。他的威胁方法层出不穷，有时会给我的律师成小时的打电话，并宣称要以某种共谋犯的指控起诉我。如今回头想想，他的威胁更象是虚张声势。但在当时，真把我给吓傻了。
不过早在危机初起时，我就不可避免地认识到：为信息来源保密是新闻工作者的准则。我对检察官说，我不会放弃盾牌法，相反，我要援引它。
在奇基塔报道以惨败而告终之前，新闻工作者的义务和权利对我来说是抽象的。我朦胧感觉，在我正在展开的职业生涯中，会遇到很大的挑战，比如在外国战争的枪林弹雨躲闪，或者在某个停车场和白宫高级官员秘密会面。我想有朝一日我就是那样的记者。
这些想法辛辛那提当然在都烟消云散了，我的挑战就是会议室里一支接一支抽烟的特别检察官。我的问题不是要成为什么样的记者，而是在那个时刻我是什么样的记者。人这一辈子不是在诸事顺利时才明白真正相信什么，而是在出了差错之后才会明白。我在那个房间里认识到，我宁愿进监狱，也不会谈秘密信息来源。
回头看看，我相信采取如此立场并非为了显示男子汉气概，而是出于记者的自然反应。我不仅是在拒绝确认某个或某些特定人物，还坚持记者必须恪守诺言和新闻准则，即使所做的报道失败了。这些准则并非杂乱无章的发展起来的，而是在开放社会中从我们的基本职责出发自然生长起来的。法庭并不承认宪法第一修正案赋予新闻工作者拒绝说出信息来源的权力，但新闻工作者早在美国独立战争时期就曾经反抗要求提供信息来源身份的压力。
我也不认为我的立场很浪漫。记者并不因理想化的举报者观念而承诺保密，尽管有时秘密信息来源确实是英雄而无私的，但更多时候他们并非如此。他们有时是想报复或者获得个人收益，有时出于政治动机，有时是因为妒嫉，还有些信息来源是犯罪分子，他们这样做会给法庭出难题，往往多年都难以解决。
实际上，最高法院的布兰兹伯格诉海耶斯案（Branzburg v. Hayes (1972)）引发了现代盾牌法运动，在该案例中《路易斯维尔信使杂志》记者保罗•布兰兹伯格（Paul Branzburg）试图援引宪法第一修正案作为拒绝透露在其报道中所提到的两名印度大麻毒贩身份的依据（见道格拉斯•麦克拉姆（Douglas McCollam）著“打击信息来源”，载于《哥伦比亚新闻评论》2005年3月/4月号）。最高法院以五票对四票裁定，新闻记者在对不利于信息来源的案例中作证时不受第一修正案保护，布兰兹伯格保护毒贩身份这一事实对他并没有帮助。然而在绝大多数人看来，“搜寻新闻时如果没有某种保护，新闻自由就成了空话。”新闻自由的支持者们依据这句话在很多州为创建和强化盾牌法辩护。第一修正案所不能做的，就让盾牌法来完成吧。
1978年的某个时候，《纽约时报》记者米伦•法伯尔（Myron Farber）因为拒绝透露在他所做的关于一名医生谋杀其病人的报道中提到的秘密信息来源而在新泽西入狱。更近些时候，在涉及“湾区合作实验室”（Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative，略写为BALCO）的兴奋剂丑闻中，由于一个信息来源问题，《旧金山纪事报》（San Francisco Chronicle）记者兰斯•威廉姆斯（Lance Williams）和马克•费纳鲁-韦德（Mark Fainaru-Wada）面临进联邦监狱的危险。由于缺乏盾牌法的保护，他们就去了监狱。当晚11点钟，一名证人向FBI透露说，该公司总裁的律师特洛伊•艾勒曼（Troy Ellerman）就是信息来源。FBI找到艾勒曼之后，他承认了（这名律师称他这所以泄露大陪审团的证词，滥用可卡因和酗酒是一个原因）。
正如你所看到的，信息来源通常不是人们所想的如保姆那样令人放心的人，然而记者不透露相关人士的姓名是对的。在BALCO的案例中，记者的报道显然使公众加深了解了滥用类固醇药物的问题，并且有助于推动关于这个话题的公开讨论。在维拉瑞•普拉姆（Valerie Plame）案例中，记者保障问题变得更为复杂，它成为一种关于媒体的罗夏测验（译者：瑞士精神科医生罗夏于1921年首创的一种测验，适应于成人和儿童，主要用作性格测验。也可用来观察智力，临床上可用于作诊断测验和发现病人内心冲突的内容）：战争反对者们把《纽约时报》记者朱迪思•米勒（Judith Miller）视为一味讨好布什政府的哈巴狗；媒体批评者们认为华盛顿记者团是替权势吹捧的怪物。向米勒透露信息的斯科特•利比（Scooter Libby）可能是想给普拉姆的丈夫约瑟夫•威尔逊抹黑，因为威尔逊泄露的信息破坏了布什政府准备打击伊拉克的战前努力，白宫意欲报复。很多新闻工作者相信，这件事并不适宜引用不透露信息来源的原则，因为它有问题。而我仍然相信，米勒做出了正确决定，宁愿入狱也不透露信息来源。她做了自己应该做的事。利比自己后来免除了米勒的保密誓言，在此之前她守信并坚持了原则。
这是一个简单等式：如果了解敏感信息的人和记者接触时更容易惹上麻烦，那么他们就很少会找记者了。如果站出来的人越来越少，那么公众所能得到的关键性信息也会越来越少。这对民主是不利的。
在本次国会会期中，联邦盾牌法案在印第安那州众议员迈克•彭斯和其他人的推动下，通过了众议院及参议院司法委员会的表决（见“盾牌持票人”，载于《哥伦比亚新闻评论》2007年5月/6月号）。然而此后该法案就被搁置起来，等待送到参议院进行表决。如果这个法案在本次国会中无疾而终，我们只能寄望于推动它的那个两党组织在下次会议召开时再次提交表决。三位总统候选人都表示，支持盾牌法思想。
当谈论新闻原则正确的报道时，新闻工作者们经常提及保密问题，水门事件就是一个典型例子。当事情出现岔错时，承诺保密更为重要，而且这时最需要盾牌法。要是一切发展顺利，那么信息来源冒险提供信息时，他们并不关心知道记者会说什么。但如果处处出现纰漏，他们就会关心记者是否会被迫打破誓言。
前《今日美国报》（USA Today）记者托尼•罗西最近（Toni Locy）由于拒绝披露在其所做的关于生化武器科学家斯蒂芬•哈特费尔（Steven Hatfill）的报道中引用的秘密信息来源，联邦法官认为她蔑视法庭。由于政府把哈特费尔列为2001年炭疽袭击事件的“利害关系人”，此人正在起诉政府。前司法部长约翰•阿什克罗夫特曾在一次记者招待会上亲口提到哈特费尔，但是无论政府想建立什么案件，最后都遭到失败，哈特费尔从来没有受到任何指控，他有起诉政府和追诉本人案件的一切权利。哈特费尔的律师认为，要是能迫使罗西打破保密承诺，或许对他们的案子有帮助。他们之所以能在这个问题上施压，原因很简单：他们有能力。在联邦法庭上没有法律能为记者的保密权提供保障，他们对新闻工作者的职业准则不感兴趣，只想赢得案子。哈特费尔的律师们会想办法迫使其它律师放弃“律师——当事人特权” 吗（译者：美国联邦证据规则中第501到第510条集中规定了“律师-当事人特权”，该规则第503条规定：当事人具有可以拒绝公开或者阻止其它人公开为了给当事人提供法律服务而进行的秘密交流内容的特权。这一特权是美国法律的基本准则之一，同在联邦法庭中缺乏法律保障的记者保密权不可同日而语）？他们根本不会去想这种办不到的事。
但罗西面临入狱和过高的罚金，美国地区法院法官罗杰•沃尔顿（Reggie Walton）甚至想禁止由《今日美国报》来支付罚金，幸亏上诉法院推翻了他的决定，不过罗西陷入如此境地这一事实足以让人胆寒了。相似的案例在华盛顿特区、伊利诺伊州、加利福尼亚州和其它地区的联邦法院都曾上演。
在创立联邦盾牌法的问题上，批评者纠缠于一系列常规性问题。新闻工作者所写的任何报道都应该受到盾牌保护吗，他们的报道要是与腐败的政客或者一时声望暴跌的名人有关怎么办？况且谁是新闻工作者？这些担心都是有理由的，但可以用合理的辩论来解决。批评者还提出另一个问题：因为缺乏联邦盾牌法，我们真的可能错过某些报道吗？这个问题已有答案。
事实上，我们并不完全了解错过了什么报道，但可以肯定的是，由于暴露身份的风险增大了，走出来的信息来源会更少，公众所能获得的信息也就更少。很多关于盾牌法的疑问从根本上转移了话题：盾牌法权利这所以重要，是因为它能让记者在任何信息来源可能遇到的法律问题中居于中立地位，这是它的主要功能和惟一目的。信息来源应该知道，透露信息就可能会遇到风险，他们会被找出来。然而他们也应该知道，记者不会把他们的姓名透露出来。
不像多年来看到的朱迪•米勒、托尼•罗西和很多其它人，我在奇基塔案例中有盾牌保护，俄亥俄州的盾牌法规定：
任何法庭、大陪审团、小陪审团或任何官员进行的任何法律诉讼、审判或调查，和主持任何特别法庭的官员或其代理，和任何委员会、部门、分支机构或本州政府机构，以及在任何县或市机构、官员或者委员会，都不得要求以采集、获取、汇编、编辑、散发或出版新闻为目的，而在任何报纸或任何媒体协会工作、或与之有联系、或者受之雇佣的人，公开任何此人在工作过程中获取或得到的任何信息来源。
在该法案中，没有任何条文规定报道必须符合某些社会重要性标准，也没有规定信息来源必须符合某些道德行为标准，它是一个总括性的权利。自盾牌法案于1953年获得通过以来，俄亥俄州的司法体系也没有崩溃。
当然，奇基塔报道的惨败只不过是一个简单的盾牌法案例，检察官之所以寻找盾牌法的弱点，部分原因在于马克•加拉格尔不只是在保护信息来源，他违反了法律。甘乃特公司除了炒他的鱿鱼，没有别的选择。面对起诉，加拉格尔迅速选择了他的惟一出路：交出信息来源。他认了罪，被判处缓刑，并很快离开了新闻界。
之后检察官把目标对准了我和涉及该系列报道的其他人。我和特别检察官进行最后一次摊牌式的见面时，并不知道他会怎么做。我决心无论如何，都要坚守信息来源保密的新闻准则。我记得当时的情景是这样的：我坚持自己的立场，检察官瞪了我一会，然后耸耸肩。出乎我的意料，他退缩了。他威胁了我好几个星期，但在最后的会面中一事无成。检察官让我签署了一份修订后的文件，只要求我在维持盾牌法的前提下说出事实——这是我一直在坚持的。
没过几个月，新的特别检察官（县里让前任特别检察官走人了）在一个碰头会上向我保证，他不会挑战我的盾牌法权利。1999年4月，我在预备听证会中站到了证人席上，作证说有一个人在某个时间向《问询报》提供了进入奇基塔公司语音信箱的密码，由于我不知道该如何处理这个密码，就把该信息给了加拉格尔。我作证说，加拉格尔告诉我，已有一个匿名信息来源给了他这个密码，并且证明甘乃特公司的律师和编辑已数次指示他不得进入奇基塔公司的语音信箱。没有人要求我公开任何人的身份，不一会我就和任何刑事审判程序无关了。
不过法律问题并没有结束，几个民事案件持续了好几年，《问询报》甚至小心翼翼地做过报道。我又数次去作证，有几次不得不一再拒绝回答牵涉到保密信息来源的问题。在一次作证中，一个加拉格尔早前曾经提及的信息来源起诉甘乃特公司，称其破坏了合约。他从头到尾都想让包括我在内的《问询报》雇员证明，加拉格尔宣称自己的确有信息来源的说法是真的。他的律师试图强迫记者公开秘密信息来源，以证明其当事人的身份曾经被公开过。瞧，事情就是像我说的这么荒唐。当每次有律师想强迫我说话时，我就越发认识到盾牌法对于信息自由流动所具备的重要性。在那场混乱开始5年之后，辛辛那提的美国上诉法庭维护了我的盾牌法权利。于是问题终于停止了。
如今，我并不完全确定在所有的法律争论中都发生了什么。如果我放弃了盾牌法权利，那么在谁被起诉或者以何种指控被起诉的问题上会有什么不同吗？由于有盾牌法，这些问题的答案我永远不会知道了。在过去10年中，人们有时候会问我关于奇基塔系列报道中的匿名信息来源问题，我的回答始终如一：无可奉告。
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More Less | | PhD - Nanjing University | | Years of translation experience: 6. Registered at ProZ.com: Jul 2008. | | N/A | | N/A | | N/A | | Adobe Acrobat, Adobe Photoshop, Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Word, Powerpoint, SDL TRADOS | | English (DOC) | | About me I am a PhD student of Nanjing University, China. I had more than five years of journalistic working experience in newspaper. During work, One of my most important task was to translate English news report into Chinese, and I was responsible for the supervision and revision of the work of other colleagues and freelance translators. In addition to translation, I also have involved in many management areas, including collecting, planning and editing of international and domestic news.
After working in mass media for several years, I returned to Nanjing University for advanced education. I am currently studying the communication theory of international relations, and focus on transnational news media such as Al-Jazeera Television. I expect to receive my Ph. D. degree of History in International Relations later this year from Nanjing University, and am available to work anytime now.
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