Since my time at The Observer began, one question editors often contended with is that of anonymity. Occasionally a writer will submit a piece, often to the Opinion section, and not wish to be credited by name. Instead, he/she requests to be listed as “Anonymous.”
Some editors are quick to give such a writer an ultimatum: Either put your name on it, or we’ll scrap it. On a few occasions that I can remember, the writer has actually chosen to forgo publishing the piece in an effort to remain unnamed.
On the one hand, some writers that have requested anonymous articles during my time here have done so due to the inflammatory and even offensive nature of their words. That kind of combination led me to compare anonymous articles to rude and aggressive comments on YouTube videos made under the guise of screen names or ‘Anonymous User.’ And just as I detested those who hid behind their computer screen, I dismissed those who wanted to hide behind The Observer.
Lately, though, I’ve been starting to think that perhaps a situation like that shouldn’t be the paradigm for determining whether or not an article can be anonymous. A recent roundtable discussion with editors from The Commentator shed new light on this issue, and the responses were thoughtful and varied.
On a radical end of the spectrum, one student actually suggested that perhaps anonymous articles should become the norm. After all, it’s the ideas and the content of the piece that are important, not the identity of the person who maintains them. He noted the particular relevance of this sort of bias to the YU community: At a small university, we may know every writer personally and be predisposed to his/her angle, leading us to judge the article and its conclusions before we even start reading.
On the whole, most students agreed that anonymity must be treated on a case-by-case basis; editors must investigate why it is that a writer wishes to remain unnamed. For example, in the first issue of The Commentator this year, one student wrote about the potentially positive outcomes of the Iran nuclear deal, noting that the hostile discourse on campus surrounding his viewpoint had prompted him to write anonymously. It would have been a shame if the editors had chosen to not publish the article just to support an unwritten law about attributing each piece to its author by name.
In the case of the Iran nuclear deal, it’s easy to see why such a sensitive topic in the context of the YU community may warrant anonymity. But one editor noted a situation in which a writer felt that a topic was controversial, but an editor thought otherwise. An even more complicated scenario emerged when an editor shared that students sometimes reveal that they don’t want to put their name on an article for fear of the potential backlash from peers.
I think that both issues are really two sides of the same coin. In my experience, a writer’s perception of a topic’s sensitivity often comes down to a panic over the critical reception. Writers know that an article on Middle Eastern politics, gender roles and stereotypes will get more clicks—and in turn, comments—than a news article about last night’s event. And when an article is susceptible to comments, it’s susceptible to negativity, disagreement and potential controversy. Anonymity is a good way to avoid the possible hurt that may accompany harsh criticism on a project that one has worked hard to piece together.
Taking this fear into consideration has led me to be more sensitive to anonymous writers than I used to be. Each month before I write my editorial, I recall the trepidation with which I wrote my first opinion piece—it was a benign call for a more rigorous Jewish Studies curriculum downtown, and I was preaching to the choir. Nonetheless, I remember how scared I was that someone was going to rip it to shreds. The opinion editor at the time was adamant about publishing it, though, and she was not one to support anonymity.
While I have started to become more accepting of those writers who don’t want their name on a piece, I wonder still about its implications on readers and the paper at large. I read a lot of articles online about how our generation has no patience for inauthenticity. As Miriam Renz pointed out in her article last month, celebrating uniqueness and living by “You Do You” are the pillars of our millennial mindset. Hiding, then, behind the facade of “Anonymous” and not taking ownership for one’s potentially controversial idea is not something that we want to entertain or accept. I can certainly put myself in the shoes of a reader who notices an anonymous article and wonders why the writer couldn’t just “own it.”
That brings up the issue of the real goal of a student newspaper. Most would agree that a student publication serves to inform the student body about campus news, and also provide students with a free platform on which to share their ideas. When students feel free to express their opinions in some capacity, that in itself fosters a certain ownership over an idea for the writer, and also benefits the readers by opening them to peripheral or unpopular opinions.
In that regard, the student who suggested a completely anonymous paper may have a valid point. In our search for truth, we must all learn to value the content of someone’s words over the implications of their name.