I squinted at my computer’s clock: 10:45 PM. The Kirby common room sat empty and silent except for a new writer and myself, reviewing the Board’s extensive edits on her article. While editors like myself have since acclimated to the rigid expectations for a Lawrence article, staring at the complicated web of color-coded edits and inserted text boxes made me question what a Lawrence article should look like. After that interaction, I began to ponder the ideal role of The Lawrence when I asked another editor to stay behind to discuss the article my housemate had stressed over.
Initially, we discussed whether the writer had been too “harsh.” I asked about one particularly dramatic edit: the deleted remarks of an underformer, critiquing a Circle House’s festive decorations. Notably, this editor was a prefect of the same House.
Their only response was that the quote was critical and negative. I asked why “critical” and “negative” ideas should be disqualified from publication. When I suggested we publish articles regardless of our personal opinions , I received a plainspoken response: Those kinds of remarks are just inappropriate. “We don’t do that here.”
While we, at The Lawrence, strive to emulate a professional newspaper, any student-run newspaper for a tight-knit boarding school must have fundamentally different obligations to both cover the “truth” and take into account the tastes of the community. Placing the “School” before the “newspaper,” it turns out, leaves The Lawrence in a precarious position to faithfully cover the School’s affairs.
The Lawrence’s vague mission statement merely says “the primary mirror and voice of the student body [should] offer a source of personal and community reflection so as to enrich the Lawrenceville experience intellectually, culturally, and socially.” Beyond vague platitudes about “free speech” and the community’s need for journalism, the charter sheds little-to-no light on journalistic ethics and editorial discretion. The charter demands that all editors somehow maintain both absolute “objectivity in all reporting” and “respect community expectations.” How should editors balance a commitment to “The First Amendment” with our community’s expectations? How can editors tell where the editing ends and the censorship begins? The Charter does not say.
Lacking a clear definition for journalistic ethics, Lawrence editors—and their writers by proxy—have been quick to avoid any potentially controversial content. Most notably, our first week of school coincides with the one-year anniversary of the events of September 5, one of the most tense episodes in recent School memory. From renewed discussions of gender inequality and a rare town-hall meeting for the Crescent and the Circle, to a prolonged ban on House runs, the consequences of last fall have rippled throughout the school community. The School’s responses to these events have given the community much to digest, too. The Lawrence, of all institutions, should have helped the community facilitate these conversations, yet we failed to publish any student commentary on those topics. Instead, as many readers noticed, in our first issue of last year we published three identical articles about House Olympics. Our reluctance to respond quickly was well-founded; good coverage requires coordination between editors, journalists, and potentially the administration. That being said, given that The Lawrence failed to discuss the September 5 events for the rest of the 2023-24 school year, we believe “sensitivity” also served as a disguise for The Lawrence’s unwillingness to cover volatile issues in the face of possible backlash.
The Lawrence's hesitancy towards raw, unfiltered journalism is understandable. First, we must remember that The Lawrence is no different from any other school club, serving as an educational opportunity instead of a carbon copy of the real world. To expect high school students to take the same responsibilities as their professional counterparts is absurd. Also, student “journalists” have complicated relationships with potential contacts. Interviews could have underlying power dynamics, and publishing an article criticizing the school might make writers fear indirect repercussions. On a deeper level, many of those interviewees are our housemates, School Meeting neighbors, or other familiar faces. In a sense, our reluctance proves our deep sense of compassion, care for one another, and the difficult task of discussing tense events that involve our peers.
That being said, criticism should not be mistaken for disrespect; in fact, it’s the opposite. Our writers dedicate their free time each week to observing news at the School and beyond, crafting their opinions into written form, and sharing them for the benefit of all. This commitment inspires us editors to critically assess our own shortcomings and strive to uphold our values. Editors ideally act as informal referees, shaping the parameters of public discussion and debate. By using our editorial authority to exclude ideas or topics too “controversial” or “sensitive” to include in the newspaper, we decide which ideas the community can or cannot hear, and that power is dangerous when misused. This approach unjustly influences which ideas can thrive and which ones are silenced. How many important conversations may go unspoken as a result?
Despite the tone set by The Lawrence in years past, we assert our commitment to journalistic integrity and the expectations of the Lawrenceville community this school year. Consistent with Lawrenceville's dedication to nurturing young people of “learning, integrity, and high purpose,” The Lawrence should recognize principled and open dialogue, supplied by balanced and sincere coverage of both school and external topics, as the hallmark of an intellectually vibrant community. Raw but responsible dialogue requires commitment to thorough, even-handed reporting, while demonstrating compassion for all sides of any debate. We will embrace open dialogue as the cornerstone of constructive journalism.
To our writers and readers: We ask for your trust. We’re only as powerful as the sum of your contributions, and any shift in the Board’s approach to journalism requires both the faith of the community and its wholehearted, skillful support in enacting it.