Forster, too, valued transparency: “It seems paradoxical that an article should impress us more if it is unsigned than if it is signed. But it does, owing to the weakness of our psychology,” he wrote. “Anonymous statements have, as we have seen, a universal air about them. Absolute truth, the collected wisdom of the universe, seems to be speaking, not the feeble voice of a man.” According to Forster, “The modern newspaper has taken advantage of this.” Literature could exist as its own anonymous “absolute truth.” But information, Forster argued, “is relative,” true only if it is accurate, and consequently in need of attribution.
Ironically, Forster’s Atlantic diatribe against anonymity was directly followed by an anonymous essay, written by a man who didn’t want his family to know he was dying of cancer (at the time, the stigma against the disease frequently meant people used euphemisms when discussing it, if they discussed it at all). Though Forster didn’t have a chance to comment on the piece, the editors of The Atlantic did, noting the juxtaposition of the articles and lauding the way the anonymous man “describes his attitude toward Death, and his ordering of what remains of life, with such knowledge and courage as compose ‘absolute truth.’” As in many unsigned pieces The Atlantic has published over the years—a World War I deserter writing on his decision to leave, a 1940s Jewish man on changing his last name to something less Jewish, a 1960s woman on getting an abortion—the anonymous man in 1925 was first and foremost telling a personal story; like literature, it could exist as an absolute truth.
The Times op-ed, by contrast, can hardly be construed as personal. In a breakout article prompted by nearly 23,000 reader questions, the Times’s op-ed editor remarked that the senior official’s piece intends “to describe, as faithfully as possible, the internal workings of a chaotic and divided administration and to defend the choice to nevertheless work within it.” According to Forster’s rubric, then, the op-ed writer has fallen short by failing to be accountable for the information he or she provides, and instead taking advantage of the credibility implied by anonymity’s “universal air.” The writer, even if unintentionally, blurs the boundaries between fact and fiction and delivers unsubstantiated absolutes—practices that echo those of the very man he or she is critiquing.
We can imagine how differently any of the recent anonymously sourced information would have been received had “the feeble voice of a man” been public knowledge. “The man who gives [information] ought to sign his name, so that he may be called to account if he has told a lie,” Forster wrote. “Make your statement, sign your name. That’s common sense.” We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to email@example.com.
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