The ethics of reporting on sexual assault

As a journalist who regularly covers the topic of sexual assault as part of my beat, I often find myself wondering how best to approach the piece, both in terms of being respectful to the survivor and their story, but also in terms of telling the most accurate and fair story possible.

Even writing that paragraph leads me to wonder: Does a journalist saying they want an “accurate and fair story” mean they’re doubting the survivor’s account? And who are we, as journalists, most accountable to in these situations: the survivor, or the public who will read the story? It’s questions like these that have led me to want to explore further the ethics around reporting on sexual assault.

There’s no question that the discussion around the topic has intensified in the last two years alone, with heightened awareness around the stereotypes that still exist in the criminal justice system and in media reporting.

In Canada, the issue was placed front and centre in 2016 during the sexual assault trial of Jian Ghomeshi, who was once among the most famous radio hosts at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Ghomeshi was facing several allegations of sexually assaulting women. He was ultimately acquitted of all charges.

The media coverage was staggering, with dozens of journalists packing the courtroom and overflow rooms each day to watch the proceedings, with columnists analyzing the testimony of the three complainants and highlighting the inconsistencies.

It was both good and bad for the media by the end of the trial. Many journalists were roundly criticized for their coverage, with activists pointing out that just because the burden of proof is so high in a criminal court, it doesn’t mean it should be in the court of public opinion.

But it was also good in the sense that it finally gave Canadian media the kick it needed to realize its failings when it comes to reporting on sexual assault, and led to several groups coming up with guidelines to report on the issue — something that had never really existed before.

One of the documents that has proven very helpful to me in my own reporting is “Naming sexual assault complainants in the media: Ethical considerations for journalists,” produced by the Canadian Association of Journalists’ ethics advisory committee. (Two of its members work at The Toronto Star, my employer: Public editor Kathy English and in-house counsel Bert Bruser.)

The document deals with the issue of naming sexual assault complainants. In Canada, it is against the law to do so, and breaking that law can lead to fines and/or imprisonment.

However, sexual assault complainants in the past have gone to court to apply to have the ban lifted on their names so that they can “go public” and share their story. It’s also worth noting that this publication ban, enshrined in Canada’s Criminal Code, only applies to criminal cases. An individual suing their alleged abuser in civil court is not automatically entitled to such a ban, for example.

One of the main issues around naming a complainant is consent, says the ethics advisory committee.

“Specifically, whether the complainant has freely given consent with a full appreciation of the range of outcomes that may flow from her choice,” says the document.

The committee goes on to note that the concept of “yesterday’s news” no longer exists, and that stories live on forever online, something that may not always appear obvious to someone not familiar with how the media works. The committee therefore recommends the following when looking to obtain “informed consent” from a complainant willing to go public:

• Remind them that once their name and story are published, it’s quite possible that other journalists will want to try to interview them as well.
• Make clear that the individual facing the sexual assault allegations, or their lawyer, will likely be contacted, and that the details they provide will very likely conflict with the complainant’s story, but typically for legal reasons must be included in the piece, especially when a criminal or civil case has not yet been completed.
• Point out the prevalence of social media, and how a journalist has no control over the comments that will be posted, which could very well include comments critical of the complainant’s story.
• Explain that the complainant’s name will live on more or less forever online, and will come up in search engines when, for example, a potential employer searches their name.

The committee recommends getting a recording of the conversation around consent, preferably in writing, and giving the complainant some time to think everything over before conducting the actual interview.

These are points that I wish I had thought of when I was interviewing a sexual assault complainant for a story in 2016. She was the victim of a doctor who sexually abused her along with three other female patients, and as a result, was disciplined by the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario, which regulates the medical profession in this province.

In the regulatory system, there also exists publication bans on the names of patients who have been sexually abused by their doctors. This one complainant, Temerra Dixon, was so outraged at the penalty handed down to her abuser — a six-month suspension — that she reached out to me because of my coverage on so-called “dirty doctors” and said she wanted to go public with her story.

I have to admit, I was thrilled that finally, a complainant in a sexual abuse case at the College was willing to speak out against the lenient penalties they had been imposing. Without giving it much further thought, I explained to her how to have the publication ban on her name lifted, and then proceeded to interview her about her assault and her experience with the College discipline process. Our photographer shot photos of her in her home, and within two or three days, the story was on the front page of the Star, occupying the whole area above the fold.

Temerra Dixon and I still talk regularly, and I’ve interviewed her for stories since then, but when I first saw that story on the front page, I worried that I had not done enough in getting “informed consent” from her. Yes, she’s the one who reached out to share her story, realizing her name and face would be in the paper, but looking back, I should have explained that the story might get major treatment in print and online, and that the story would be out there forever.

That experience, along with the CAJ paper, has certainly made me rethink how I approach this issue in my reporting.

There are other elements of reporting on sexual assault that I’ve tried to work on over the last two years that may seem like such small matters to many reporters and editors who work with words every day, but that are immensely important to sexual assault survivors and those who work with them.

For example, should it be “survivor,” “complainant,” or “victim” ? A feminist collective called femifesto has contributed a great deal to helping journalists in this area by publishing a guide called “Use the Right Words: Media Reporting on Sexual Violence in Canada.”

“News stories about sexual violence affect the way we think about it,” the document’s authors write. “They can impose a hierarchy that frames certain kinds of sexual violence — or certain kinds of survivors — as less legitimate than others.”

The document suggests not to default to the word “victim,” because it can have negative connotations, unless this is the term preferred by the person being interviewed. (I will say I did remember to ask Temerra Dixon which word she preferred. She said she preferred victim.)

Other femifesto tips: don’t overuse “alleged” unless it is legally required, and instead try to use terms such as “according to” and “reports.” And also place emphasis on the perpetrator (“He raped her,” for example) versus “She was raped.” Remember to use “sex worker” instead of “prostitute” in cases where a sex worker has been assaulted, and question whether it’s necessary to say if the complainant was addicted to drugs or had mental health issues.

These are just some examples from the guide, many of which I would not have contemplated before in my reporting on sexual assault. I would point out that at times, we reporters struggle in our ability to tell a story that is respectful to a sexual assault complainant’s story, but which also won’t get the reporter (or the complainant for that matter) sued. And so it’s not always possible to limit the use of “allegedly,” or to limit the accused person’s side of the story.

Frankly, at the end of the day, many of the judgment calls outlined here aren’t made by me anyway; they’re made by senior editors and the Star’s in-house lawyer, although I certainly take part in those conversations. But having thought more carefully about the issue of reporting on sexual assault, and learned a great deal more in my research, I certainly feel more confident now in what I have to say at editorial meetings about my stories, and also feel more mindful of the respect due to someone who is willing to share a very personal and traumatic experience with me and the wider public.