PIO Column, ScienceWriters, Volume 54, Number 4, Fall 2005
[Column outlining conflict over ABC News reactor safety documentary in the newsletter of the National Science Writers Association]
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Earle M. Holland |
"Why in the world would you want to piss off ABC News?"
That was the infinitely logical question posed to me by one of my senior PIO colleagues at Ohio State University after reading the draft of a news release I was lobbying vigorously for us to distribute.
"Because they screwed up!" I answered, "And we ought to call them on it!"
After nearly 28 years doing science communications at OSU and five years before that at Auburn University in Alabama, one of the few perks I'm allowed is a rather crusty attitude and this seemed like a good chance to display it. Younger PIOs might see this as politically unwise but then again, I never did really understand politics.
The debated draft release grew from the news that the network was planning an expose on university research reactors and ours was one of the targets in their sights.
As senior science writer on campus, crisis communications about radiation safety, along with a half-dozen other areas of so-called "research risks," were my responsibility. And while we've historically been successful in getting fair and accurate reporting regarding our research, a program such as what the network seemed to be planning was anything but good news.
As I understand it, there are 52 "research" reactors in America . At least two dozen of those reside at some of the nation's colleges and universities. Most of them serve two basic purposes -- to teach students from elementary school to college the basics of nuclear engineering, and to conduct research involving radioactive elements and isotopes. For the most part -- especially at public universities -- these operations are considered "open," as are other research facilities on campus. Obviously, they are more secure than classroom buildings but few are armed fortresses. On average, ours sees at least one tour group traipsing through it weekly during a normal year.
Two bright-eyed coeds rang the bell at the door to our reactor facility one morning this June. When a staffer answered, the pair explained that they were touring the campus, had noticed the building's "reactor" sign, were curious and asked for a tour. They were signed in to the facility, their IDs checked and copied and their bags searched, according to protocol.
At the very start of that impromptu tour, the two male staffers accompanying them grew suspicious. The girls' questions suggested they knew more than they let on. And when one tried to swipe a bomb threat alert card posted on a wall, the staffers' concerns were confirmed and they cut the tour short, signing the visitors out of the building. Five minutes later, one staffer looked out the door and saw a coed shooting videotape of the outside of the building. They sped off as the staffer walked outside to confront them. Campus police were called and they informed the FBI which, in turn, informed officials with Homeland Security.
My office is only a couple of blocks from the reactor, so if there are problems, I can normally be on the scene in a few minutes. But this time, I was 650 miles away, vacationing in Alabama. Nevertheless, in less than an hour, the reactor staff had tracked me down and brought me up to speed on events.
And this is lesson No. 1: The staff at research facilities need to know who to call for public information support. They don't merely need to have a contact name and number -- they need to know the person well, have worked with him/her before, and feel comfortable in the partnership that is needed at such times. That also goes for animal facilities, biosafety labs, environmental safety offices, etc. -- wherever research "problems" might arise. And that call needs to be made immediately, not as a late afterthought to events.
As we quickly learned in this case, the two coeds were summer interns, part of a program sponsored by the Carnegie Corporation to put college students in training positions at ABC News, specifically their documentary/investigative group. Googling the names from the coeds' IDs confirmed that, as did webpages on the Carnegie site (which was later removed).
Immediately, our staff emailed other reactor operators and within a day, it was clear that our experience wasn't unique, that these two students, as well as several other pairs, had tried to con their way into other reactors at perhaps a dozen campuses. Information from the Carnegie website suggested that the interns were working on a project testing the security of potential terrorist targets and clearly they saw university reactors as unsecured prizes ready for the picking.
As more and more information emerged, I got more aggravated. First off, our reactor -- which had operated since the 1960s -- wasn't a real high-security facility. That is, while we scrupulously exceeded security requirements, visitors were welcome. Ours was one of the first facilities to switch to low-enriched fuel -- a fact that made our core a useless target for bomb material. And secondly -- and without divulging secure information -- anyone trying to salvage core material would be killed by the process.
What really irked me was that students were used by the network and that they lied to gain access. Personally, I support journalists using deception to get information when it is otherwise unobtainable. But in this case, if the interns had said they were reporters, they would have gotten much more info than they did. So deception wasn't necessary. The norms of the profession required them to identify themselves as journalists at the start.
What angered me more was that the network placed the students in a position where they couldn't refuse their assignment. The balance of power between the students and their mentors was vastly tilted in the network's favor. Mentors are obligated to teach students the best of the profession and that didn't happen in this instance.
We knew from talking with other reactor operators that several weeks after their visit, the students were calling visited reactor facilities and asking questions as reporters, so when one called at Ohio State, our staffers routed the call to me. I explained that our faculty didn't want to talk to the students/reporters but that I would be happy to, within the constraints of security.
About 20 minutes into the conversation, she asked another question (I honestly don't remember what it was but I had decided it was time to shift the balance) and I responded saying, "I'm surprised you asked that. Wasn't it apparent when you and your colleague visited our facility on June 22?"
That was followed by a suitable period of silence before she said, "Well, yes we were there and . . . " and I jumped in and started saying "We know you were here," and pointed out what she was wearing and how they behaved and how they retreated afterwards when they were approached. I expressed an appropriate amount of indignation that they would do that and pointed out that by using deception to gain entry that they had violated the Ohio Revised Code and they were lucky they weren't arrested for it. (O.R.C. 2921.13 basically says it is illegal to mislead a public official who is performing his official duties and in Ohio , public university staff are considered public officials.)
Lesson No. 2 for PIOs is to not refrain from using the techniques that might be used against you. The student/reporter didn't lay her cards on the table when she visited, or later during the call, so I didn't feel compelled to do so either. The rest of the conversation surprisingly proved useful. The student discovered that the university was well aware of what was going on and I was able to make specific points on our operations I probably wouldn't have otherwise.
And when the student's producer called a week or so later, while I wouldn't call the conversation cordial, it was at least more evenly balanced. Lesson No. 3, I guess, would be that whenever possible, PIOs need to firmly stand their ground. Knowing that you're probably a target for the network's "20/20" show can be unnerving for anyone but we still needed to get our points across.
We learned, through counterparts at the federal Nuclear Regulatory Commission, that the program was slated to precede the anniversary of September 11, but at the last minute, the blanketed coverage of Hurricane Katrina bumped it off the schedule. The last we heard is that it is set for early October, and university reactor operators, as well as university PIOs, are worried that it will be a hatchet job.
We never sent out that news release, unfortunately. I wanted to react like Khrushchev pounding his shoe on the table at the United Nations in 1960, but cooler heads prevailed. An op-ed was done and several interviews with national reporters who got wind of the story gave us a chance to make our points that university reactors were lousy targets for terrorists. And those interviews included discussions of the ethics of using deception to get information, when that is called for and when it isn't.
University PIOs need to remember that the main job at our institutions is to teach. In this case, I think those two interns had a great learning experience -- much more than they -- or the network -- had intended. We'll just have to wait and see how the story ends.
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