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These are strange days, when many of our institutions — and institutional ways of doing things — are being disrupted. That certainly goes for the Fourth Estate, and its traditional relationship with politicians.
Some of this, of course, starts at the top. In a paradoxical way, President Trump is one of the most accessible presidents in recent history, and yet he is so prone to lies and diversions (to say nothing of insults), that we often learn little about what the executive branch is really up to.
Past presidents certainly lied, though not as constantly, or as fluently, as Trump. Biden, for example, lied, exaggerated, and got stuff wrong — and, as Axios reported near the end of his term, he evaded the press (which some attribute to cognitive decline). Trump, meanwhile, seems to enjoy sparring with the press, laughing off serious questions and folding his lies and errors into an endless, trolling irony — ‘I was joking, you woke idiots’ — and sometimes autocratically kicking disfavored outlets out of the people’s house.
So, that’s certainly one model for the relationship between press and politician: open mockery, and occasionally open conflict.
Given the declining faith in the institution of journalism, Trump’s approach resonates with more than a few people — although it’s not as easy to appropriate his methods as some seem to think. I’ve seen a few local politicians take this route, but while their core base might enjoy seeing their champion get pugilistic with the press, it tends to put off a fair amount of people. Trump’s style is sui generis, and imitators risk coming off as a cheap copy.
Other politicians avoid conflict by sticking with friendly media outlets. There are traditional news organizations that are independently run but lean conservative or liberal, but also outlets that are directly operated by ideological groups: the right-leaning and Libertarian-ish John Locke Foundation runs The Carolina Journal, the progressive-left American Independent Media is behind the North Carolina Independent (whose name is, I have to say, a little galling). It’s not that these outlets can’t produce decent reporting, and perhaps it’s good in a sense that their bias is a public record, but they’re also not going to consistently challenge politicians who are ‘on their team.’
And, of course, there are the growing ranks of influencers, content-creators, podcasters, and self-styled citizen journalists. There’s a wildly mixed bag of quality here but, suffice it to say, rigor and ethics aren’t guaranteed. Listening to a candidate talk to high-profile hosts like Jon Stewart, Sam Harris, Bill Maher, or Joe Rogan and you might get some truly interesting and enlightening insight into their personalities and peccadilloes — but you’ll also notice how the interviews conform to the hosts’ interests and pet peeves. And of course, they’re not required to invite candidates’ opponents and ask them the same questions.
Faced with this landscape, some have chosen a different path by going directly to their constituents. This is a paradigm shift, skipping media outlets entirely in favor of social media, Substack, and other newsletters.
Former Congressman and current North Carolina Attorney General Jeff Jackson is known for his even-keeled explainers on Instagram, and Wilmington City Councilwoman Salette Andrews puts out more Substack posts than some freelance journalists, keeping pace with local policy issues. But it’s not just candidates and elected officials. County Manager Chris Coudriet has a running blog on county governance, taking a philosophical approach to local policy decisions. And Woody White, the former county commissioner, current UNC Board member, and influential conservative, has largely avoided mainstream media interviews in favor of commenting directly on X.
On the one hand, there’s something noble and good here: those with power and influence, and those seeking it, should talk to the public they want to represent. Especially for candidates, this is an opportunity to explain their policy approaches in more detail than a campaign ad would ever allow. On the other hand, these are still basically press releases — even when they present as responses to constituent questions, they can be selective about which questions, and the answers they provide aren’t necessarily subjected to stress testing.
Candidates can cobble together the right mix of friendly interviews, campaign content, and small “on my terms” events that let them avoid direct media scrutiny. Just look at North Carolina’s U.S. Senate race, where Republican Michael Whatley and Democrat Roy Cooper have both skirted probing interviews and played coy about a debate.
And of course, there is a tried-and-true option: silence.
I’ve known several politicians who have never responded to an email or phone call. Others have grow reticent over time — some I’ve had to track down to their place of work or, occasionally, wait for an opportune moment at the grocery store (Wilmington, despite its rapacious growth, remains a small town).
Some of these Silent Cal types have told me, off the record, that they simply grew tired of having their words taken out of context, or chopped down to a 10-second sound bite on TV, or ignored when inconveniently out of alignment with some narrative. Others, I take it, really don’t think they owe the press, or the public, the time of day, let alone a detailed explanation of their policy preferences.
This is, for obvious reasons, not a great approach for a new candidate. But for more than a few incumbents, it's become standard operating procedure. Incumbency means name recognition and the ability to let campaign ads do the talking — sitting down with the press can only cost them.
For that reason, among others, campaign ads are particularly frustrating. The attack ads, even when they’re grounded in fact, tell you only what’s bad about the opponent, not what’s good about the candidate. Other ads, the goofy, lighthearted sort more common at the local level, often tell you nothing at all.
It’s almost worse than silence.
I can’t help thinking of Congressman David Rouzer here. Once upon a time, Rouzer had a public-facing office in the old government office, directly facing the giant fish tank. As a Port City Daily reporter, I would walk into his office and ask his aides questions — and, on occasion, even speak with him directly. But eventually he retreated to a more secluded location.
Since coming to WHQR, I’ve interviewed Rouzer twice: once just after January 6, and once when he was primaried in 2022. Both times we had thoughtful and civil conversations (it was not, I joked to him, the woke ambush he might have expected). But Rouzer’s office has failed to respond to a host of questions, and the Congressman himself has been a no-show at multiple candidates' events. Perhaps it's the solidly Republican demographics of his district, or his war chest, or the years he went without a serious challenger, but Rouzer’s absence has become a punchline for liberal detractors.
On Monday, October 12, we’re holding a forum at UNCW for state legislative and congressional candidates; Rouzer’s Democratic and Libertarian challengers — Kim Hardy and Maad Abu-Ghazalah, respectively — have said they’ll be there, but Rouzer hasn’t. I hope he’ll show, but I won’t hold my breath.
None of this is to say that the Fourth Estate has the perfect tools to translate the policy positions of candidates and elected officials to the public. Nor do we have some kind of exclusive claim on those people and their time. But we do try to offer a service that I think remains valuable: asking fair questions to the candidates on a level playing field, and then vetting and fact-checking the answers we get.
That’s why, for the last four years, WHQR has partnered with Port City Daily and WECT — and, this year, with UNCW’s The Seahawk, as well — to host candidates’ forums. We source our questions from our collective reporting, and from our audiences to try and get at issues in a diverse range of ways. Working together makes our lives easier, to be honest, but we also want it to be easier for candidates to say yes to our invites: we know they’re being asked to forums by all manner of groups, so consolidating our efforts makes attending worthwhile.
It hasn’t always worked: two years ago, a host of Republican candidates declined or ignored our invitations to forums. Some had legitimate conflicts, some explicitly noted concerns about media bias, others simply never responded. Finger-pointing aside, it was the public that lost out, in my view.
This year, attendance is expected to be better. I know some candidates — yes, especially Republicans — aren’t sanguine about getting a friendly audience in front of four local news outlets, no matter what I say about our efforts to be balanced and earnest in our questions. The fact that they’re showing up anyway is commendable, and I salute them.
But, by the same token, I think it’s their responsibility.
Three to four hundred years ago, “stand and deliver” was the demand of highwaymen as they robbed their victims, surprising them and forcing them to turn over their valuables on the spot. These days, thanks in part to the 1988 movie of the same name, it’s the honor-bound duty to perform under pressure.
For politicians, the campaign-season onslaught of questionnaires, interviews, debates, town halls, and forums sometimes feels like a stickup, or at least a frustration, I’m told. For journalists, though, it’s what we expect of those who want the people’s permission to make decisions on their behalf.
I think we can respect the former, while holding fast to the latter.
