When you’re shouting questions at your radio or your laptop

We’re here to figure out what happened and why [View this email online]( [NPR Public Editor by Poynter's Kelly McBride]( We’re answering four letters from NPR listeners and readers on three topics. At first, it might seem like these notes have zero things in common. Except this: We are listening when you pop off a question at your computer or your radio. Not literally, that would be creepy. But we know that when you consume news, you often shout out questions (and sometimes the occasional profanity) about the choices NPR journalists make. When you convert that outburst to a note and send it to us through [our form]( or on [Facebook]( or [Twitter]( it sounds to us like a chorus of … well, you’re not in harmony, but your questions are very smart. Today one listener wants to know why, if the WHO is trying to reduce the stigma by labeling coronavirus variants with Greek letters, stories seem to undercut that intention with a dependent clause that says where the variant emerged. Someone else wanted to continue the conversation about fact-checking, and we could talk about that all day long. And finally, we paired two letters about whether NPR has too much alarming, negative news, or too little. Like we said, there’s very little harmony, but it’s a beautiful noise anyway. [Bright sign that says "Don't Risk It"]( Mark Kerrison/Getty Images From the Inbox Here are a few quotes from the Public Editor's inbox that resonated with us. You can share your questions and concerns with us through the [NPR Contact page](. Why mention the origin of the Delta variant? Donna Mathewson writes: The Mesa County COVID-19 surge. Every time I hear this story I find it insulting. They came up with names for the variant strains to stop racism. Why must you say the Delta variant that originated in India? Why can't it just be the Delta? Late last month, the World Health Organization [announced it would]( use letters of the Greek alphabet for key variants after consulting an expert group of partners from around the world. “While they have their advantages, these scientific names can be difficult to say and recall, and are prone to misreporting. As a result, people often resort to calling variants by the places where they are detected, which is stigmatizing and discriminatory,” WHO announced. “To avoid this and to simplify public communications, WHO encourages national authorities, media outlets and others to adopt these new labels.” I found a [few]( [stories]( by Colorado Public Radio about the Delta variant in Mesa County that mention the variant was first detected in India, and noticed that NPR [has also mentioned]( this [variant]( origin. NPR Chief Science & Health Editor Andrea Kissack told me in an email that NPR follows guidance issued by The Associated Press. The AP says to avoid using the numbers given to variants, such as B.1.1.7, and avoid using country labels like the South Africa variant. Instead, the AP instructs newsrooms to use the Greek alphabet letter assigned by the WHO, and on first reference follow that with a phrase that describes the origin. For example: The latest outbreak was linked to the Alpha variant, first detected in the United Kingdom. Kissack said NPR also follows [CDC guidelines]( on new variant naming. Back in January, Vikki Valentine, deputy senior supervising editor on the Science Desk, sent out guidance to staff to avoid putting the origin first in the description, such as the “UK variant, Brazil variant and South Africa variant” because that “needlessly puts a stigma on the place where the strain was first detected.” Kissack told me that, since then, “the Delta variant, first identified in India, has become dominant in many areas and a variant of concern.” She added that NPR’s guidance and AP’s guidance have been consistent. NPR is acutely aware of the stigma that can arise from the way you label a variant and has taken the extra step by adopting the WHO’s labeling system. But mentioning where the Delta variant was first detected is newsworthy to the NPR audience. — Amaris Castillo Too much doom and gloom… Lynn Clermont writes: I would like to point out the amount of negative news reporting on the npr.org website. On today’s main web page, I would classify 15 out of the 27 headlines as negative and 10 as alarming. I have always thought of NPR as a place to get non-biased news reporting presented in a way that was not intended to alarm the reader. I do not find this to be the case anymore and have started looking for a different source for my morning news. ...Or not enough Mark Taylor writes: … Lots and lots of life-or-death news and issues to be concerned about, but what does [NPR use almost 4 minutes]( of precious Sunday morning (6/20) air time to focus on? Some 20-something guy going to a movie for the first time since the pandemic. In the spirit of, “You cannot please all of the people all of the time,” let’s talk about news curation. Every news product, whether it’s a magazine show like Weekend Edition Sunday or the homepage of NPR, is an edited news experience. And each of us gravitates to certain news products because, over time, they have been edited in a way that satisfies our need to be informed about the world and our need to enjoy the experience of being informed about the world, so that we come back and do it again tomorrow. When you scroll through the home page in the middle of a big news day and see a bunch of alarming headlines, or when you happen to catch a big fat fluffy story on Sunday morning, it may feel like the product has gone too much in one direction or the other. When this happens, you can be certain of two things. First, if you come back on another day, it will likely feel different, maybe more to your liking. Second, another responsible news consumer is having a different reaction. — Kelly McBride If everyone is responsible, does that mean no one is? J.D. Hildebrand writes: In the [June 10, 2021]( Public Editor's Inbox newsletter, Kayla Randall writes about how fact-checking is done at NPR. I come from the print magazine world, where I once joined a large magazine that employed a full-time research editor to do the kind of fact-checking Randall describes. Later, I edited scrappy little short-handed magazines and found ways to adapt formal fact-checking to our editing procedures. I taught my techniques at Folio, the annual conference for magazine management. My concern is that Randall says that everyone is responsible for fact-checking NPR stories. My experience is that if everyone is responsible, then no one takes primary responsibility. The task becomes a second priority for everyone and mistakes happen. I urge NPR to make formal fact-checking part of the production process. ... There is merit to both approaches. But distributing responsibility to everyone seems to me a mistake. … Thank you for your thoughtful response. It’s great to read another person’s ideas on and experiences with fact-checking and research, and I appreciate your perspective. When we wrote that everyone is responsible for fact-checking, we meant that it’s a collaborative process, and that everyone in a newsroom should care about it. I understand where you’re coming from in saying that in your experience, if everyone is responsible, then no one truly is. To be sure, the byline at the top bears the primary responsibility for the veracity of the story. Fact-checking itself, though, is still a joint effort: Even when a specific person is assigned the task of fact-checking as a separate step in the production process, they too must work with the primary reporters and editors to address questions. For example, members of NPR’s Research, Archives & Data Strategy ([RAD]( department work on fact-checking and research initiatives with colleagues across the organization. RAD researchers aim to confirm accuracy and provide context, and check stated facts against publicly available records and reporting. That encompasses verifying names, places, events, all-manner of claims, references to other published material and superlatives. These more than a dozen researchers are credited in broadcast, podcast and digital spaces. They fact-check and research stories for Invisibilia, Rough Translation, Embedded, Where We Come From and many more. They also check commentaries, specific parts of broadcast and podcast scripts and assertions by guests in pre-recorded interviews, and work on the corrections process (figuring out if NPR reporting was incorrect, and if so, what the correction should contain). NPR also occasionally brings in external fact-checkers on contract. So, even though no one holds the formal “fact-checker” job title, the distinct act of fact-checking is often a part of the production process. Still, it’s a responsibility that everyone involved in storytelling should play a part in and take seriously. — Kayla Randall Spotlight On The Public Editor spends a lot of time examining moments where NPR fell short. Yet we also learn a lot about NPR by looking at work that we find to be compelling and excellent journalism. Here we share a line or two about the pieces where NPR shines. That fly With all the hard news of the world, it’s nice to acknowledge a light-hearted moment when we can. [During a press briefing]( NPR White House Correspondent Ayesha Rascoe told Press Secretary Jen Psaki that she had a fly in her hair. In that instant, Rascoe was the kind of person we all need sometimes — the one who will tell us when we have a fly in our hair, on national television. I particularly loved what she said after she mentioned the fly, true to journalistic form: “[I do have actual questions]( — Kayla Randall Two journalism heavyweights go head-to-head [Nikole Hannah-Jones and Walter Hussman Jr.]( Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Peabody Awards; Benjamin Krain/Arkansas Democrat-Gazette MORNING EDITION [UNC Journalism School Tried To Give Nikole Hannah-Jones Tenure. A Top Donor Objected]( [Much]( has been [written]( about the board of trustees at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill and its decision to block a tenured position for New York Times’ Pulitzer Prize winner and MacArthur grant recipient Nikole Hannah-Jones. NPR Media Correspondent David Folkenflik took a [novel and informative]( approach. He interviewed Jones and Walter Hussman Jr., a legendary newspaper owner and publisher (and $25 million donor to the school) who has reportedly shared his doubts about Jones’ work with some of the UNC trustees. Jones and Hussman are both graduates of the UNC School of Journalism, both respected and accomplished journalists. Folkenflik asked them about how they came to the profession of journalism and how they see journalism’s pursuit of the truth. Listening to them is a complete tour of the current existential debate among journalists, all in five minutes. — Kelly McBride Two cities, one war on drugs This past week marked the 50th anniversary of the war on drugs, and Weekend Edition Saturday aired a [special nine-minute segment]( about two very different communities — Huntington, W.Va., and Brownsville, N.Y. — that found themselves on the front lines. NPR Addiction Correspondent Brian Mann introduced us to two individuals (a 37-year-old Black man and activist, and a 30-year-old white woman and local newspaper reporter), one from each community, whose mothers struggled with addiction, and who have observed how drug policies have impacted the places they call home. In this deep dive, Mann asks: “How did we spend hundreds of billions of dollars fighting this drug war and wind up with more addiction, more overdoses than ever?” One surprise bonus at the end: We hear the two sources, who had never met before, compare the similarities of their families’ stories. — Amaris Castillo The Office of the Public Editor is a team. Researchers Amaris Castillo and Kayla Randall make this newsletter possible. We are still reading all of your messages on [Facebook]( [Twitter]( and [from our inbox](. As always, keep them coming. Kelly McBride NPR Public Editor Chair, [Craig Newmark Center for Ethics & Leadership at the Poynter Institute]( Kelly McBride, Public Editor Kayla Randall, NPR Amaris Castillo, Poynter Institute The Public Editor stands as a source of independent accountability. Created by NPR's board of directors, the Public Editor serves as a bridge between the newsroom and the audience, striving to both listen to the audience's concerns and explain the newsroom's work and ambitions. The office ensures NPR remains steadfast in its mission to present fair, accurate and comprehensive information in service of democracy. [Read more]( from the NPR Public Editor, [contact us]( or follow us on [Twitter](. You received this message because you're subscribed to Public Editor emails. This email was sent by National Public Radio, Inc., 1111 North Capitol Street NE, Washington, DC 20002 [Unsubscribe]( | [Privacy Policy]( [NPR logo]