• by George Simpson , Featured Contributor, June 2, 2016

Like everyone else, I have mixed feelings about Peter Thiel (a Trump delegate, really???) trying to sue Gawker out of business. While I like salacious gossip as much as the next guy, Gawker has published some seriously trashy stories that have harmed people and families, largely due to Nick Denton's loose definitions of "appropriate" and "newsworthy."

There is a long history of media appealing to the prurient interests of readers, from British tabloids to our own Star and National Enquirer. What else are Peopleand TMZ than snarky trash dressed up for the prom? Many others besides Thiel (who was openly gay at the time) have been outed in the press. Snaps of celebrities caught half-dressed are routine "news" on many Web sites (and often, tabloids). Does that mean if you are a public figure, anything you do, say or try to hide, is fair game because somebody, somewhere can make a buck revealing it? Seems to be the case.

In spite of the fact that Thiel supports the Committee to Protect Journalists, which promotes the right of journalists to report the news freely without fear of reprisal, most mainstream journalists have lined up shoulder to shoulder against the notion that it is OK for a multibillionaire to sue the press. I guess it is OK to be OWNED by a billionaire that assures your job security, as long as he/she doesn't sue one of your sister press institutions.

Until relatively recently, the mainstream press in this country had an astronomical amount of power, especially when they were making enough money to fend off pressure from advertisers and other power brokers. They willingly hid the "secrets" of powerful people on whom they relied for “news," such as John Kennedy's numerous affairs. It seemed as if you could get a pass from being exposed if you were an important source of news.

But what if you weren't?

What if you were the "little guy" who got covered unfairly by mistake, or inference or omission? Happened all the time. I recall being at a conference where a small-business owner had a totally legitimate gripe about the way the Washington Post had covered his company. But ever-the-bully Ben Bradlee, then executive editor, smacked him down with, "You just don’t understand how the press works!"

And that was always the prevailing attitude toward those who thought the press had made a mistake. Readers were considered the unwashed masses, with lower intelligence levels and a faulty understanding of how "journalism" was practiced.  There was little sympathy for how badly subjects of inaccurate (or opinionated) coverage were injured by it. Staff or retainer lawyers easily withstood legal action because they nearly always had deeper pockets than their accusers. When "corrections" were made, they were buried in a section of the paper that no one read, and were never featured as prominently as the story that caused the hurt.

Over the years, this arrogance generated a fair amount of resentment toward the press. Public opinion always ranked it among the least-trusted of all American institutions. Various scandals, such as reporters discovered to be making up quotes, didn't help.

While I suspect that prior to the Hulk Hogan lawsuit, awareness of Gawker by the general population was pretty low, trying to align themselves with the principles of "journalism" has not generated much populist sympathy for Denton and company. Lots of people are happy to see "the press" get kicked in the cojones.

The only ones seemingly terrified by this turn of events are journalists themselves.

Karma.