Anyone who is not a moralist or kidding themselves will admit that a good piece of gossip is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Gossip exposes the false sanctimony of the powerful: it reveals the smug and self-righteous to be grubby, selfish and embarrassing – just like the rest of us. If the pronouncements of politicians make history, and the reporting of the media shapes that history’s official narrative, gossip runs along behind them, like a bratty younger sibling, filling in their omissions to tell a truer story. “You left out this part.” “That’s not what you told me.”
Maybe this is why media gossip about journalists and politicians carries such a frisson of transgressive delight: it breaks their monopoly on narrative authority. The people who have been appointed to tell us stories about our world, and about ourselves, finally get themselves subjected to the same treatment. It helps, too, to bust the bubble of a media industry that has long demanded more moral gravitas than it has really earned. These are the people, after all, who claim to be holding power to account. But how do they actually behave towards those in power?
And so it was maybe predictable that so many people would feel a gleeful jolt of schadenfreude last week, when New York Magazine revealed that it had suspended Olivia Nuzzi, a young star reporter known for her biting wit and deep bench of Republican sources. The cause? Nuzzi had allegedly admitted to sexting with one of her reporting subjects: the anti-vax crusader, animal corpse desecrator, former presidential candidate and brain worm host Robert F Kennedy Jr.
Love is blind, and it could be that Nuzzi simply has unconventional taste. But the incident has taken on heavy symbolic proportions, becoming a litmus test within media circles for various opinions on journalistic ethics, how to earn and keep readers’ trust, and the journalists’ vexed obligations to the truth in an industry where models of “access journalism” routinely incentivize them to have close – even cozy – relationships with those they cover.
Nuzzi, in particular, has a talent for getting incendiary and controversial figures on the right to say things that they probably shouldn’t, and media watchers have long speculated that this might be because of her own conservative leanings: that she is able to ingratiate herself to rightwing subjects because she is able to convince them that she offers a sympathetic ear. In that much, at least, any honest journalist will have to admit that Nuzzi is not alone. But she seems to have taken her sympathy for her subjects far beyond the industry baseline.
Not everyone finds Nuzzi’s conduct objectionable on journalistic grounds. Ben Smith, the former New York Times media columnist who now runs the outlet Semafor, used his newsletter to ask what all the fuss was about. He claimed that British journalists had texted him to the effect of: “If you’re not sleeping with someone in a position of power, how are you even a journalist?”
The NPR media correspondent David Folkenflik characterizes this statement from Smith as “bananas”. We might also add that it is insulting to Smith’s colleagues, be they American, British or anything else – and in particular, to the women. It implies that there are large numbers of female journalists trading sex for access. There are not. It is rare, and more than frowned upon, for journalists to sleep with their sources or subjects: doing so compromises the integrity of the work. And most female journalists, like most female professionals in any field, are not interested in trading on their sexuality for professional advancement.
And yet Smith’s defense of Nuzzi was not the only comment that seemed to take a kind of prurient delight in the story. Almost immediately, RFK Jr sympathizers started leaking stories to the media that seemed aimed at minimizing his own role in the relationship and portraying Nuzzi as a sex-starved obsessive, who “bombarded” the Kennedy scion against his will with “increasingly pornographic photos and videos that he found difficult to resist”, in the words of Jessica Reed Kraus. Sure.
Other outlets, eager to credulously repeat these claims, took a similar track. The New York Post ran a story to this effect that featured an image of Nuzzi in a bikini. Another journalist, Keith Olbermann, chimed in with the irrelevant and unhelpful information that he also dated Nuzzi once, back when he was in his mid-50s and she was in her early 20s. The Daily Beast went to far as to publish a gross fictionalization of Nuzzi and RFK Jr’s correspondence.
The schadenfreude has changed its tenor: from delight in the revealed hypocrisies of the powerful to delight in the sexual humiliation of a woman. It is assumed that it is Nuzzi’s sexuality itself – rather than her decision to direct it toward a subject of her reporting – that disqualifies her from public dignity.
Let’s be clear: Nuzzi is not a victim. There is no indication that her relationship with RFK Jr was anything but consensual, however distasteful we may find it. Nor does she appear to be a woman of robust feminist commitments. Not only has Nuzzi routinely cozied up to powerful Republican political players, but until recently she was engaged to the Politico writer Ryan Lizza, who was fired from the New Yorker in 2017 for alleged sexual misconduct. The misogyny directed against her, then, raises an uncomfortable question for feminists: how do we criticize the actions of patriarchal women without falling into the trap of perpetuating misogyny against them?
The most ungenerous interpretation of Nuzzi’s career – which is not necessarily the most likely one – is that she used her youth and good looks to her advantage, flattering the egos of men who could get her jobs or serve as sources. In this scenario, she would have made a trade-off – sexual attention for professional opportunity. There is a tendency to demonize this kind of use of sexuality by women (and a less pronounced, usually tardy tendency to criticize such trades when they are demanded or accepted by men). It is this tendency, feeding off the unspoken and unproven assumptions about just what Nuzzi and RFK Jr were offering each other, that has led to all the slut-shaming of Nuzzi in the media.
Women who make such trades are not necessarily unequipped for the jobs they get by them: talent and corruption often coexist in one person. (And whatever the controversies and uncertainties about Nuzzi herself, there is no dispute that she is very talented.) But the problem with such transactions, where they do happen, is not that the women who make them are sluts. It is that they are scabs. Such trade-offs can be consensual, but they can never really be ethical: they make it harder for other women in their industries who are not willing or able to use their sexuality to advance to do so; they set the precedent that sex for opportunity is an acceptable trade to make to female workers; they encourage men to leverage their professional power to extract sexual favors. They cast all female professionals under the suspicion of corruptibility and unseriousness.
Whatever Nuzzi was doing, she doesn’t seem to have been thinking much about her female colleagues; she appears to have mostly been thinking about herself. But she’s not the only one in this scenario who deserves our attention. Spare a thought for the other women working in journalism – including many of Nuzzi’s colleagues at New York Magazine – who will now be embarrassed by unfair comparisons to her. If there’s a victim in this story, it’s them.
Moira Donegan is a Guardian US columnist
