Addendum: Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

Regrets, I've had a few ...

The column I just sent out, “False Accusation Also Proves Tapper and Bash Are Very Bad at Their Jobs,” included a typo. Worse, the typo was in the very first paragraph. “The story has been wide reported” should have been “The story has been widely reported.” Of course.

Typos always drive me crazy. They’re even worse when they appear in a piece that castigates fellow journalists for their lack of professionalism. I’ve fixed the typo, but I can’t fix the email you have already received. But I will offer a direct, unvarnished—even abject—apology.

This mistake, regrettable as it is, highlights some of my motivation for writing media criticism. It’s not just ideological, although the mainstream media does have an ideology with which I strongly disagree. It’s personal, too. When I have made factual errors—which hasn’t happened for a while, fortunately, at least to my knowledge—it upsets me a great deal.

Actually, that’s putting it too mildly. Errors, even trivial ones, can trigger three days of clinical-level depression. But I don’t mind. That’s how journalists should feel. A little self-loathing does a lot to hone one’s professional skills. I’ve discussed this with many of my peers, some far better known than I, and they all feel the same way.

That’s why I don’t understand the psychology of most mainstream journalists today. They brush off even the most egregious errors as if they were nothing—even the ones that help start wars. They won’t apologize for getting it wrong unless you twist their arm. It’s not just that they lack values like community, equality, or an abhorrence of violence. It’s that they don’t even seem to care about truth, which is a value in its own right. I don’t get it, but I know this much: I don’t like it.

I don’t like making mistakes, either. Once again, my apologies.