With the criminal trial of Donald Trump and campaigning for the U.S. presidential election in full swing, you may have noticed the more frequent use of the words “lie” and “liar” by journalists. I was surprised by the first two lines of The Atlantic’s Tuesday newsletter, commenting on the testimony of Mr. Trump’s former fixer: “Michael Cohen is an admitted liar and a convicted felon who is openly fuelled by a thirst for revenge against Donald Trump.”
The Globe’s U.S. correspondent, Adrian Morrow, is also reporting on the trial. He, too, uses the L-word, but in a much more considered fashion. For instance, the first paragraph of his May 16 report on the proceedings hits quite differently: “Donald Trump’s lead defence lawyer accused star prosecution witness Michael Cohen of lying on the stand about a conversation with Mr. Trump over a payoff to a porn star, in the most confrontational moment so far at the former president’s criminal trial.”
“There may be no single word that causes more editorial paroxysms in political coverage than ‘lie.’” Adrian told me in an e-mail. “The reason, I believe, is twofold. For one, lying implies not only the promulgation of a falsehood, but a specific intent to deceive. If you can’t see inside someone’s head, the thinking goes, can you really know that they are lying, as opposed to simply mistaken? The second, and I think more pervasive, is a desire for fairness and impartiality. ‘Lie’ is a strong term and a good many journalists fear that using it would make it seem they are putting a thumb on the scale against whomever they are describing as a liar.”
He continued: “All of this may be somewhat academic in the case of Michael Cohen. He has pleaded guilty to making false statements to a financial institution and a congressional committee, and in both cases has made clear he knew full well that he wasn’t telling the truth. During testimony at Trump’s hush-money trial last week, he admitted to deliberately deceiving a special counsel investigation, journalists and his bank. Describing such actions as ‘lying’ is perfectly fair and impartial: it’s an objective truth that Mr. Cohen has told lies many times to many people.”
Even so, Adrian added – and this is where the conversation gets really interesting from the perspective of journalistic practice and ethics – the way the word is used matters. Compare these two paragraphs, which Adrian provided as examples:
- “Michael Cohen is an admitted liar who pleaded guilty to lying and is now accused by Donald Trump’s defence team of telling even more lies.”
- “Michael Cohen has admitted to lying to Congress about a real estate project in Moscow and to a bank about his finances. He broke campaign contribution laws in a bid to cover up Donald Trump’s alleged extramarital affairs. But testifying for the prosecution at Trump’s hush-money trial, he insists he is now telling the truth. Trump’s defence team argues he is not.”
Both paragraphs are true, Adrian noted. “The first paragraph, however, robs the word ‘lie’ of its power by using it repeatedly without specifics. The second gives the reader a more precise picture of what exactly Mr. Cohen did and why it is relevant. It doesn’t shy away from saying he has previously lied – which he clearly has – but by using the term once and immediately explaining it, it reinforces the significance, accuracy and full force of the word.”
The Globe’s Style Book offers this definition: “To lie, in the sense of telling an untruth, means to make a statement that the speaker knows is false, with an intent to deceive.” That puts a heavy burden of proof on any journalist who uses the word to describe the actions of someone who has not, like Mr. Cohen, admitted to lying. If you can’t prove that intent, says Patrick Brethour, The Globe’s editorials editor, you can only state that the speaker is wrong.
Attribution isn’t sufficient cover, either. The Style Book states: “Even when we are quoting someone else as alleging a lie by an identifiable person, the person referred to could well take libel action. If we know a statement is false, descriptions based on such words as untrue and inaccurate convey this without getting into speculation on the speaker’s knowledge or intent.”
The Editorial Board tackled the subject on April 26, inspired by other news organizations’ seeming acceptance of the “liar” label that federal Health Minister Mark Holland attached to Pierre Poilievre. On April 18, the Conservative Leader said he would not support the government’s pharmacare plan, which he warned would replace private group health coverage. Mr. Holland later told a reporter that Mr. Poilievre’s statement amounted to “out-and-out lies,” and on a CBC broadcast said: “It’s the dishonesty to me that is so reprehensible.”
This coverage activated the Editorial Board’s spidey sense. Was Mr. Poilievre’s assessment of the legislation intentionally dishonest, or even factually incorrect? “We did some digging and it turns out at the very least Mark Holland was on very thin ice in saying Pierre Poilievre was a liar,” Patrick says.
Bill C-64 states: “The purpose of this Act is to guide efforts to improve, for all Canadians, the accessibility and affordability of prescription drugs and related products, and to support their appropriate use, in collaboration with the provinces, territories, Indigenous peoples and other partners and stakeholders, with the aim of continuing to work toward the implementation of national universal pharmacare.” (Italics mine.)
Could that reasonably be inferred as a plan to replace private health coverage? It could, yes, the Editorial Board concluded, assuming legislation continues down this path. So, Mr. Poilievre may be guilty of exaggeration and distortion, but not an outright lie, as characterized by some news outlets. It’s a step that cannot be taken selectively, says Patrick. “If you start to do that, boy, you’d better be omnidirectional in what you’re looking at, otherwise it becomes a partisan exercise, whether you intended it as partisan or not.”
Sandra E. Martin