WHEN JOURNALISM GOES HOLLYWOOD

IF YOU'RE a star, you can get away with -- well, if not murder, then at
least with accusing other people falsely of murder.

That was the message handed down by CNN as it retracted its
``insupportable'' story about American servicemen using nerve gas in Laos in
1970. Two TV news producers were instantly terminated; a third fell on her
sword; but Peter Arnett, the star correspondent who actually delivered the
report on the air, and who received a Time byline as co-author of its print
incarnation, escaped with a reprimand.

That escape may be short-lived, since CNN's support of Arnett seems to be
waning by the hour. But whatever his fate, his starring role in this fiasco
is at the heart of what went wrong. When news becomes just another flavor of
show business, Hollywood values overrun those of journalism. Box office,
hype and star power trump facts.

What exactly was Arnett's role in the nerve-gas story? Last week he told The
New York Times that he ``was essentially brought in late,'' then ``asked a
few questions'' and ``read the script.'' In Tuesday's Washington Post, he
said he had ``contributed not one comma.'' A few questions, not one comma,
whatever. A CNN executive told me Monday that the network was still seeking
to determine Arnett's precise contribution.

But even if he only ``read the script'' on camera -- lending his face,
voice, prestige and Pulitzer Prize-winning credibility to its words -- does
that absolve him of responsibility for its contents, like an emcee on a quiz
show? Is he really still a journalist, or does he just play one on TV? And
if he just plays one, does that mean TV news stars should be less
accountable for what they lip sync than Milli Vanilli?

And if Arnett ``contributed not one comma'' to CNN's version, why did he get
a co-byline in Time, CNN's partner at Time Warner, for its 2,000-word
rendition of it? (By contrast, one of the dismissed CNN producers had only
an ``additional reporting'' tag line in Time.) Arnett's explanation is
``marketing reasons.'' His marquee name, not to mention the sensationalism
of the story he lent his name to, would help sell the premiere episode of a
new prime-time series conceived in synergy by two news organizations now
joined in unholy matrimony by one mega-brand.

Time will not soon again lend its pages so cavalierly to a Time Warner
sibling, and CNN will not soon air another half-baked bombshell. Their
respective, forthright mea culpas are being followed by the installation of
a new system of journalistic checks and balances. But as the final heads
roll and the story recedes, the culture that caused it remains entrenched --
and ubiquitous. It's the same entertainment culture, with its insatiable
hunger for new stars and daily scoops (however tenuous), that has
contributed to many of our recent media messes -- from the Monica meltdown
to the editorial suspension of disbelief that allowed popular writers to
repeatedly pass off fiction as fact at The Boston Globe (owned by The New
York Times Co.) and The New Republic.

Even now, few in the media want to concede a systemic problem exists --
unless it's at someone else's shop. The smug industry response to Brill's
Content would have one believe that no one has made a single mistake
covering the Lewinsky story -- except Steven Brill. The CNN-Time botch seems
to have only thickened the prevailing arrogance. The New York Post's John
Podhoretz, appearing on ``Crossfire'' to bash CNN, had a temper tantrum and
fled from the studio in mid-show last Thursday when questioned about the
Post's own brand of Murdoch journalism. On ABC's ``This Week'' on Sunday,
Cokie Roberts carefully segregated the CNN-Time fiasco from any other
journalistic disasters because it besmirched the military and therefore
might be construed as ``anti-American.'' By this logic, her show is also
anti-American, since in January it besmirched the presidency by airing the
still-unsupported story that ``Secret Service agents or White House staff''
caught President Clinton ``in an intimate encounter.''

The truth is that no network is anti-American; they're just pro-ratings. And
there's nothing wrong with high ratings for TV news -- or high circulation
for newspapers and magazines. If you don't make a profit, you're out of
business. But which business is it -- journalism or showbiz? Until that
question is resolved, there will be more fiascoes -- though not, in all
likelihood, at the sadder but now wiser CNN.

Checked-by: Melodi Cornett