What If We Just Stop Interviewing Flacks?

Do they ever add anything to a story? So why bother with them?

Earlier this week, CNN anchor Kasie Hunt did something unusual on the air: She cut short an interview with a Trump campaign spokesperson for saying things Hunt found out of bounds. For this, Hunt got praise in some quarters and criticism in others. But there’s a more important question this microcontroversy raises:

Why do news organizations interview campaign flacks at all? And wouldn’t it be better if they just didn’t?

I’m pretty sure that if you put that question to a cable news producer or bigshot campaign reporter, they’d sputter, “Well, but, I mean, we couldn’t possibly just not interview the campaign spokesperson! That would be crazy!” But would it?

Before we get there, a brief recap: Hunt had Trump flack Karoline Leavitt on her show to discuss the upcoming Biden-Trump debate, which will be moderated by CNN hosts Jake Tapper and Dana Bash. After some predictable North Korean-style praise for her boss, Leavitt went after the CNN hosts for their alleged anti-Trump bias. Hunt defended them, then when Leavitt returned to criticizing Tapper, Hunt said, “We’re going to stop this interview if you’re going to continue to attack my colleagues.” 

When Leavitt kept going, Hunt did just that, closing out by saying “You are welcome to come back at any time…and speak about Donald Trump.”

What Hunt did was defensible — if you want to have a rule that you’re not going to let flacks criticize your colleagues on your air, that’s your right. But the TV networks and other media outlets let people like Leavitt get away with much worse just about every day. If Leavitt had said something like “Donald Trump is going to win the debate because Joe Biden is a senile coked-up brain-dead lunatic who’ll probably pee his pants before the 90 minutes are up,” chances are Hunt would have replied, “Hold on, that seems a little over the top, doesn’t it?” But she wouldn’t have cut off Leavitt’s mike. And either way, Leavitt is welcome back any time.

Leavitt is the Trump flack who goes on TV because she has the image Trump likes: She’s bleached-blonde and pretty, and he only wants to see you talking on his behalf if you make him horny. But the real heavy hitter in the Trump PR operation is Steven Cheung, who mostly talks to print reporters. Cheung’s value is that he is what Trump calls a “killer,” meaning he can be counted on to deliver a stream of insults and taunts, as though he’s a twitter troll.

Whenever Trump is criticized for something, especially something he said, journalists covering his campaign call up Cheung, who will supply them with a reliably angry response. Trump gets called out for the fascist resonances of saying his opponents are “vermin”? “Those who try to make that ridiculous assertion are clearly snowflakes grasping for anything because they are suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome,” Cheung replies, “and their sad, miserable existence will be crushed when President Trump returns to the White House.” Chris Christie airs an ad saying he regrets endorsing Trump in 2016? “Chris Christie looks like a weak bitch,” says Cheung.

But it’s not just him, and it’s not just the Trump flacks, repugnant as they may be. The basic question applies equally to Biden’s spokespeople, and those of every other campaign. What exactly is the value of quoting these people?

Do they provide important information the audience needs to know that can’t be obtained elsewhere? No. Do they offer unique insight into the candidate’s thinking or intentions? No. They say one of two things, in infinite variation: Our guy is great, the other guy sucks. That’s it. When was the last time you saw an interview with a press flack and said, “That was very interesting, I feel better informed now”? Never, that’s when.

The premise is the problem

That doesn’t mean journalists should never talk to press flacks. The two groups are almost co-workers, going to the same events and following the same person around, and it’s good for both of them if they get along (and interestingly enough, Cheung is reportedly very nice to reporters; his bile-ridden quotes are all kayfabe). Flacks do provide important information to reporters, such as answers to questions like: What time does tomorrow’s rally start? Is the campaign going to Sheboygan next week? When are we going to see the trade plan you promised us?

But that’s different from quoting the flack in the story. That’s where the problem comes in, because the flack’s comment is invariably vapid at best and actively misleading and toxic at worst. Reporters would tell you they have an obligation to represent each side’s perspective in their story, which is fine, but you don’t have to do it by quoting the flack saying something idiotic or repellent. If necessary, you can describe what they say; for instance, “Trump’s campaign insists he is innocent.” That gives the audience everything they need to know.

But quotes, it’s believed, offer a kind of special sauce to a story, an added dimension you can’t get with a mere paraphrase. It’s somehow more real and true to quote the person actually saying the thing. I’ll admit I’ve been driven by this impulse at times in my own stories, using a quote that didn’t add much. The real function is to give authority to the reporter themselves. A quote says “I was actually there,” or “I talked to the actual people involved,” so you should trust me and my reporting. 

That’s helpful in some contexts, but not when all you’re doing is getting the campaign’s reaction to something. And when it comes to TV, there are plenty of people you could interview to represent each side’s perspective. It doesn’t have to be the person whose job it is to spin. 

The irony is that reporters not only see themselves as savvy enough to see through that spin, much of their reporting is devoted to explaining why spin shouldn’t be believed: Here’s what the campaign is trying to communicate, here’s the voting group they’re attempting to persuade, here are their hidden motives. As the late, great Todd Gitlin once wrote, it makes the audience “the cognoscenti of their own bamboozlement.” 

But it doesn’t have to be that way. And the first step to making political news more useful would be to just stop interviewing flacks. The coverage will be better, the audience will be smarter, and everybody will win.