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Anonymous Sources on Syrian Weapons and Mayoral Politics Bring Criticism

Just about everybody is in agreement about the use of anonymous sources in news stories. Readers deplore it, public editors shake a finger at it, Times editors and reporters say they try to minimize it. The Times’s “Manual of Style and Usage” calls it “a last resort,” noting that anonymous sources are to be used sparingly, only when the information cannot be provided any other way, and certainly never to smear anyone.

But then Monday’s front page comes along, and there they are â€" anonymous sources in prominent places on important subjects.

The lead article on the page cited “a senior Obama administration official” on a subject that could not be more serious or carry more import: the possible use of chemical weapons in Syria, a situation that is moving the United States toward military action.

Lower on The Times’s front page, an article about Bill de Blasio, who is running for mayor of New York City, used anonymous sources more than once to take swipes at the candidate. (My e-mail was also full of readers complaining about other examples of anonymous sources from recent days â€" one in a China story; one in a metropolitan police story. This is clearly an equal-opportunity issue.)

How acceptable are these sources? One reader, Stacy Beam, compared the use of the anonymous source in the Syria article with the use of now-disparaged anonymous sources in the run-up to the Iraq war.

I guess we really haven’t learned too much since the Iraq war, have we? Scott Shane’s Syria article today repeats anonymous government officials (and other international officials who arguably have an agenda) making very, very strong conclusive statements about chemical weapon use without much support. As usual, The New York Times is more than glad to help the most powerful leaders in the world get their message out without having to worry about little things about accountability, counterarguments, other facts and various unknowns that make the administration talking points that speak of “no doubt” about chemical weapon use in Syria seem rather simplistic.

Another reader, Art Holloway, criticized the de Blasio article, saying it “reads like a hit job.” One passage in particular, he said, “would seem to violate every rule about the use of anonymous sources.” That passage read:

“I have never heard anyone say that Bill de Blasio” is an overly demanding boss, said a top Democrat who has frequently worked with Mr. de Blasio and spoke on the condition of anonymity to avoid jeopardizing relations with him and his aides. “He is probably a little conflict averse,” said the Democrat, who is supporting another candidate.

This was not the only anonymously sourced critical comment in the article.

(I disagree, by the way, that the article read like a “hit job,” though it certainly included criticism.)

I spoke with Scott Shane, one of the authors of the Syria article, and whose work I find consistently strong.  “I could have described it as a White House statement,” he said. “This was not a junior bureaucrat freelancing” or administration sources making assertions about “on the ground” conditions; it was essentially a policy statement.

The use of the phrase “a senior Obama administration official” to describe the sourcing “could be misleading,” Mr. Shane agreed. “The whole point was that this was an official statement.” In retrospect, he believes that it would have been clearer to call it a White House statement, rather than attribute it as the administration preferred, which other news outlets also agreed to do.

“I tried to get that across with saying it was carefully worded,” he said. But readers â€" rightly sensitive to The Times’s lack of skepticism in earlier circumstances â€" can’t be expected to read between those lines. Calling it a White House statement, if that’s what it was, would have been more straightforward and much better.

(In general, The Times’s coverage of Syria, in recent weeks, has avoided the mistakes made before the Iraq war â€" which were less the product of anonymous sources than of flawed reporting. And its editorial page has been appropriately cautious on the same subject.)

The politics editor, Carolyn Ryan, defended the use of the anonymous quotations in the profile of Mr. de Blasio. Of the one mentioned by Mr. Holloway, she said: “The quote is very measured. The person, whose identity the reporter shared with me before the story was published, says that de Blasio is not overly demanding, and is probably ‘a little conflict averse.’ That comment is not a personal or partisan attack. And it aligns with the many interviews we conducted for the story, and certainly with the narrative the story lays out in detail.”

Ms. Ryan also found unobjectionable one of the first quotations in the article, describing a long-winded conference call. “It was amazing that Bill was more than willing to let this go on,” she said.

Ms. Ryan added: “We had multiple accounts of that conference call â€" three interviews about it, and all accounts aligned. The quote brought the anecdote to life. It was one of disbelief, mainly, that Mr. de Blasio allowed the discussion to go on for so long.”

I find the anonymous criticism throughout the article regrettable. It’s possible that no one would say such things on the record; if that’s the case, those comments didn’t belong in the article as direct quotations.

As The Times’s stylebook puts it, “The vivid language of direct quotation confers an unfair advantage on a speaker or writer who hides behind the newspaper.”

There is a place for anonymously sourced information in news articles. Used sparingly and wisely, it’s a valuable journalistic tool. Sometimes there’s no other way to get out important truths. This wasn’t such a case.



Anonymous Sources on Syrian Weapons and Mayoral Politics Bring Criticism

Just about everybody is in agreement about the use of anonymous sources in news stories. Readers deplore it, public editors shake a finger at it, Times editors and reporters say they try to minimize it. The Times's “Manual of Style and Usage” calls it “a last resort,” noting that anonymous sources are to be used sparingly, only when the information cannot be provided any other way, and certainly never to smear anyone.

But then Monday's front page comes along, and there they are - anonymous sources in prominent places on important subjects.

The lead article on the page cited “a senior Obama administration official” on a subject that could not be more serious or carry more import: the possible use of chemical weapons in Syria, a situation that is moving the United States toward military action.

Lower on The Times's front page, an article about Bill de Blasio, who is running for mayor of New York City, used anonymous sources more than once to take swipes at the candidate. (My e-mail was also full of readers complaining about other examples of anonymous sources from recent days - one in a China story; one in a metropolitan police story. This is clearly an equal-opportunity issue.)

How acceptable are these sources? One reader, Stacy Beam, compared the use of the anonymous source in the Syria article with the use of now-disparaged anonymous sources in the run-up to the Iraq war.

I guess we really haven't learned too much since the Iraq war, have we? Scott Shane's Syria article today repeats anonymous government officials (and other international officials who arguably have an agenda) making very, very strong conclusive statements about chemical weapon use without much support. As usual, The New York Times is more than glad to help the most powerful leaders in the world get their message out without having to worry about little things about accountability, counterarguments, other facts and various unknowns that make the administration talking points that speak of “no doubt” about chemical weapon use in Syria seem rather simplistic.

Another reader, Art Holloway, criticized the de Blasio article, saying it “reads like a hit job.” One passage in particular, he said, “would seem to violate every rule about the use of anonymous sources.” That passage read:

“I have never heard anyone say that Bill de Blasio” is an overly demanding boss, said a top Democrat who has frequently worked with Mr. de Blasio and spoke on the condition of anonymity to avoid jeopardizing relations with him and his aides. “He is probably a little conflict averse,” said the Democrat, who is supporting another candidate.

This was not the only anonymously sourced critical comment in the article.

(I disagree, by the way, that the article read like a “hit job,” though it certainly included criticism.)

I spoke with Scott Shane, one of the authors of the Syria article, and whose work I find consistently strong.  “I could have described it as a White House statement,” he said. “This was not a junior bureaucrat freelancing” or administration sources making assertions about “on the ground” conditions; it was essentially a policy statement.

The use of the phrase “a senior Obama administration official” to describe the sourcing “could be misleading,” Mr. Shane agreed. “The whole point was that this was an official statement.” In retrospect, he believes that it would have been clearer to call it a White House statement, rather than attribute it as the administration preferred, which other news outlets also agreed to do.

“I tried to get that across with saying it was carefully worded,” he said. But readers - rightly sensitive to The Times's lack of skepticism in earlier circumstances - can't be expected to read between those lines. Calling it a White House statement, if that's what it was, would have been more straightforward and much better.

(In general, The Times's coverage of Syria, in recent weeks, has avoided the mistakes made before the Iraq war - which were less the product of anonymous sources than of flawed reporting. And its editorial page has been appropriately cautious on the same subject.)

The politics editor, Carolyn Ryan, defended the use of the anonymous quotations in the profile of Mr. de Blasio. Of the one mentioned by Mr. Holloway, she said: “The quote is very measured. The person, whose identity the reporter shared with me before the story was published, says that de Blasio is not overly demanding, and is probably ‘a little conflict averse.' That comment is not a personal or partisan attack. And it aligns with the many interviews we conducted for the story, and certainly with the narrative the story lays out in detail.”

Ms. Ryan also found unobjectionable one of the first quotations in the article, describing a long-winded conference call. “It was amazing that Bill was more than willing to let this go on,” she said.

Ms. Ryan added: “We had multiple accounts of that conference call - three interviews about it, and all accounts aligned. The quote brought the anecdote to life. It was one of disbelief, mainly, that Mr. de Blasio allowed the discussion to go on for so long.”

I find the anonymous criticism throughout the article regrettable. It's possible that no one would say such things on the record; if that's the case, those comments didn't belong in the article as direct quotations.

As The Times's stylebook puts it, “The vivid language of direct quotation confers an unfair advantage on a speaker or writer who hides behind the newspaper.”

There is a place for anonymously sourced information in news articles. Used sparingly and wisely, it's a valuable journalistic tool. Sometimes there's no other way to get out important truths. This wasn't such a case.



A Penny Picture Photographer in the American South

#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}

Inside or outside his photo studio, Hugh Mangum created an atmosphere â€" respectful and often playful â€" in which hundreds of men, women and children opened themselves. Though the late-19th-century American South in which he worked was marked by disenfranchisement, segregation and inequality â€" between black and white, men and women, rich and poor â€" Mr. Mangum, who was white, portrayed all of them with candor, humor, confidence and dignity.

Above all, he showed his subjects as individuals, and for that, his work â€" largely unknown â€" is mesmerizing.

Mr. Mangum attracted and cultivated a clientele that drew heavily from both black and white communities â€" a rarity for his time. In the context of turn-of-the century Southern society, segregated by law and custom, the diversity displayed in his negatives is striking. Each client appears as valuable as the next, no story less significant.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Duke University

Though his life was brief â€" he died at 44 â€" it encompassed momentous shifts amid a turbulent and complex period in American history. Mr. Mangum was born in 1877, the year Reconstruction ended. When he died from influenza in 1922, World War I had ended only three years earlier. Those decades included both acclaimed black thinkers like Booker T. Washington, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, W. E. B. Du Bois and Zora Neale Hurston, and some of the most difficult years in African-American history.

Although there are no tidy dates separating the phases and forms of racial discrimination, the removal of federal troops at the end of Reconstruction was arguably the advent of Jim Crow laws. Lynching peaked in the 1890s. At the same time, members of the black community, built on the strength of its own values and institutions, cultivated resistance to laws and customs that excluded and devalued them.

I have not found any indications that Mr. Mangum used his photographs for political purposes, but it is likely that many of his subjects did. By the turn of the 20th century, African-Americans were well practiced at engaging the power of photography to challenge racial ideas, as well as to create and celebrate black identity. Mr. Mangum’s subjects used his images to emphasize accomplishments, prosperity, beauty and individuality. They shared them with friends and made them the foundation of family photo albums, ultimately shaping their own identities and those of future generations.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University The photographer, Hugh Mangum, is at top left.

The details in the studio portraits, framed against bare backdrops, are intimately attached to the sitters. A stunning young woman is featured in the top left frame of a negative (Slide 11). Dressed in a casual white cotton dress, she has her stately shoulders and enduring gaze turned away from the camera. Her elegant jaw line; long, arched eyebrows; and composed lips exude a quiet confidence that makes one want to know more about her life.

Another series of exposures (below) shows a woman looking almost woeful at first. But by the third exposure, she leans back, laughing. The sequence is delightful because it is unexpected, maybe even to her. Unbridled emotion was unusual in early-20th-century portraiture, yet this is not an atypical sequence in Mr. Mangum’s photographs.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University

Another sequence (Slide 2) shows five women following a similar set of expressions and poses that include a smile, a serious air and hands behind the head, revealing what a typical portrait session with Mr. Mangum might have entailed.

The Penny Picture camera that Mr. Mangum used was ideal for creating inexpensive and accessible novelty portraits. Multiple subjects could be photographed on one negative, reducing cost and labor. Remarkably, the order of the images on the Penny Picture camera negatives reflects the order in which his diverse clientele rotated through the studio, the negatives reasonably representing a day’s work for this gregarious photographer.

As for Mangum the man, there are but scattered records of his life, stored in aging boxes belonging to his granddaughter in Cary, N.C., including letters, sketches, photographic fliers and supply orders, his professional hypnotist card and books in which he left his autograph.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University

The most tantalizing remnants are his images. They raise questions about, and offer a glimpse into, both his character and Southern society. Mr. Mangum probably exposed thousands of glass plate negatives, both in professional studios and as an itinerant photographer. Sadly, most of those were destroyed through benign neglect after his death or were lost, as were almost all records of the names and dates associated with them.

The images that remain â€" about 700 glass plate negatives preserved in Duke University’s Rubenstein Library â€" were salvaged from the tobacco pack house on the Mangum family property where the photographer built his first darkroom. For decades, the negatives caught the droppings of chickens and other creatures living in the pack house. Today they are in various states of deterioration. Some are broken and the emulsion is peeling on others, but the hundreds of vibrant personalities in the photographs prevail, engaging our emotions, intellect and imagination.

A century later, Mr. Mangum’s portraits allow us a penetrating gaze into individual faces of the past, and in a larger sense, they offer an unusually revealing glimpse of the early-20th-century American South.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University

Sarah Stacke is a photographer based in Brooklyn and Durham, N.C. She is working on a publication about Hugh Mangum’s life and work.

Follow @sarahstacke and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.



A Penny Picture Photographer in the American South

#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}

Inside or outside his photo studio, Hugh Mangum created an atmosphere â€" respectful and often playful â€" in which hundreds of men, women and children opened themselves. Though the late-19th-century American South in which he worked was marked by disenfranchisement, segregation and inequality â€" between black and white, men and women, rich and poor â€" Mr. Mangum, who was white, portrayed all of them with candor, humor, confidence and dignity.

Above all, he showed his subjects as individuals, and for that, his work â€" largely unknown â€" is mesmerizing.

Mr. Mangum attracted and cultivated a clientele that drew heavily from both black and white communities â€" a rarity for his time. In the context of turn-of-the century Southern society, segregated by law and custom, the diversity displayed in his negatives is striking. Each client appears as valuable as the next, no story less significant.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Duke University

Though his life was brief â€" he died at 44 â€" it encompassed momentous shifts amid a turbulent and complex period in American history. Mr. Mangum was born in 1877, the year Reconstruction ended. When he died from influenza in 1922, World War I had ended only three years earlier. Those decades included both acclaimed black thinkers like Booker T. Washington, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, W. E. B. Du Bois and Zora Neale Hurston, and some of the most difficult years in African-American history.

Although there are no tidy dates separating the phases and forms of racial discrimination, the removal of federal troops at the end of Reconstruction was arguably the advent of Jim Crow laws. Lynching peaked in the 1890s. At the same time, members of the black community, built on the strength of its own values and institutions, cultivated resistance to laws and customs that excluded and devalued them.

I have not found any indications that Mr. Mangum used his photographs for political purposes, but it is likely that many of his subjects did. By the turn of the 20th century, African-Americans were well practiced at engaging the power of photography to challenge racial ideas, as well as to create and celebrate black identity. Mr. Mangum’s subjects used his images to emphasize accomplishments, prosperity, beauty and individuality. They shared them with friends and made them the foundation of family photo albums, ultimately shaping their own identities and those of future generations.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University The photographer, Hugh Mangum, is at top left.

The details in the studio portraits, framed against bare backdrops, are intimately attached to the sitters. A stunning young woman is featured in the top left frame of a negative (Slide 11). Dressed in a casual white cotton dress, she has her stately shoulders and enduring gaze turned away from the camera. Her elegant jaw line; long, arched eyebrows; and composed lips exude a quiet confidence that makes one want to know more about her life.

Another series of exposures (below) shows a woman looking almost woeful at first. But by the third exposure, she leans back, laughing. The sequence is delightful because it is unexpected, maybe even to her. Unbridled emotion was unusual in early-20th-century portraiture, yet this is not an atypical sequence in Mr. Mangum’s photographs.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University

Another sequence (Slide 2) shows five women following a similar set of expressions and poses that include a smile, a serious air and hands behind the head, revealing what a typical portrait session with Mr. Mangum might have entailed.

The Penny Picture camera that Mr. Mangum used was ideal for creating inexpensive and accessible novelty portraits. Multiple subjects could be photographed on one negative, reducing cost and labor. Remarkably, the order of the images on the Penny Picture camera negatives reflects the order in which his diverse clientele rotated through the studio, the negatives reasonably representing a day’s work for this gregarious photographer.

As for Mangum the man, there are but scattered records of his life, stored in aging boxes belonging to his granddaughter in Cary, N.C., including letters, sketches, photographic fliers and supply orders, his professional hypnotist card and books in which he left his autograph.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University

The most tantalizing remnants are his images. They raise questions about, and offer a glimpse into, both his character and Southern society. Mr. Mangum probably exposed thousands of glass plate negatives, both in professional studios and as an itinerant photographer. Sadly, most of those were destroyed through benign neglect after his death or were lost, as were almost all records of the names and dates associated with them.

The images that remain â€" about 700 glass plate negatives preserved in Duke University’s Rubenstein Library â€" were salvaged from the tobacco pack house on the Mangum family property where the photographer built his first darkroom. For decades, the negatives caught the droppings of chickens and other creatures living in the pack house. Today they are in various states of deterioration. Some are broken and the emulsion is peeling on others, but the hundreds of vibrant personalities in the photographs prevail, engaging our emotions, intellect and imagination.

A century later, Mr. Mangum’s portraits allow us a penetrating gaze into individual faces of the past, and in a larger sense, they offer an unusually revealing glimpse of the early-20th-century American South.

DESCRIPTIONHugh Mangum/David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University

Sarah Stacke is a photographer based in Brooklyn and Durham, N.C. She is working on a publication about Hugh Mangum’s life and work.

Follow @sarahstacke and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.