For example, imagine there was a chili cook-off held in Chattanooga and we “endorsed” one of the contestants. If, in the course of writing a story about the competition, a grocery store receipt somehow “appeared” in our newsroom showing that our favorite contestant’s chief opponent—last year’s champ—had bought canned tomatoes instead of the fresh tomatoes that the competition required, we would have to investigate the validity of the receipt before reporting about it. We would employ several “grocery store receipt experts” in order to determine if, in fact, the chili cooker-offer had broken the contest’s rules. If, to our predetermined satisfaction, the experts said that illegal actions couldn’t be ruled out, and that there was a possibility that the accused had, in fact, purchased canned tomatoes, we would then have a “duty” to report the story.

But if, after reporting the story, information became available that the receipt belonged to another shopper, or that the receipt did indeed belong to the accused but that the canned tomatoes were for a completely different recipe, we would be forced to take “another look” at the situation. And after reviewing the situation, we’d ultimately determine that we weren’t at fault and that we would “stick by our story.” After all, our experts said it. We didn’t, right? It wouldn’t matter why we even reported it to begin with, or so we would instruct you. What would matter is that we’d be off the hook. (Except for the fact that many of you, the readers, wouldn’t trust us anymore and would stop reading our paper…if we’d even bother to stop and notice.) As a sign of support in the face of bad publicity about our news organization, I would get a promotion.

In the wake of the scandal, the onus wouldn’t be on us. We’d put the pressure on the accused cooker-offer to prove that the receipt was inaccurate. But either way, we’d figure, people would always speculate as to the character of the cooker-offer—that he/she had meant to use canned tomatoes in the competition—even if the accused wound up winning the contest. On some bizarre moral plain, we’d justify, journalistic justice had been served. We’d have “done our job.”

Of course, we’d report about being duped. That we were acting on information we thought was correct. That we would strive for accuracy in the future. And we would hopefully assume that, eventually, the readers would forget about the story altogether.

But in the midst of the controversy, a guy reading our paper might say, “Hey, three more innocent people were beheaded in Iraq today, and all they’re reporting about is canned tomatoes.”

And he would be right.