Corey Lewandowski admitted what we all know: Lewandowski has “no obligation” to be honest when speaking to the news media.
Okay. Let’s fix that.
At the beginning of every interview, let’s let the interviewer ask the interviewee whether the interviewee would like to be sworn in, under penalty of perjury, before the interview begins.
The interviewee thus has two choices: The interviewee can decline to be sworn in and lie with abandon during the interview. Or the interviewee can plan in advance to accept the oath, study to prepare for the interview, take the interview deadly seriously, and tell the truth during the interview.
Which interview would be more interesting to watch?
You’d think that audiences would have a preference: Why listen to a person who’s planning to lie to you? That a silly interview. Tune in instead to the person who’s going to speak the truth.
Moreover, you’d think that interviewees would play the game differently when subjected to my rules. Instead of rushing for the cameras, accepting every interview in sight, interviewees would necessarily become selective about the interviews they accepted. An interview would become a dangerous thing, requiring real time and effort for preparation. We’d probably have far fewer interviews, but they would be far more meaningful.
While we’re at it, let’s add a character to broadcast interviews: The instant critic. This person’s role would be to explain to the audience what the audience was seeing in interviews.
What do I have in mind?
Let me first offend the right: Asked about whether it’s appropriate to make American military support for a foreign country expressly dependent on interfering with an upcoming election, the interviewee starts to talk about the need to investigate corruption.
The instant critic speaks: “Unwilling to answer the question, the interviewee is changing the subject to a noncontroversial point. This is evasive and gutless. It shows you only that the interviewee is unwilling (or unable) to answer the question.”
Or the interviewee could choose to answer the question: “I disagree with your underlying premise. No one made aid dependent on interfering with an election.” Or: It’s “absolutely proper” or “absolutely improper” to “make American military support for a foreign country expressly dependent on interfering with an upcoming election.”
The critic could pipe up: “Remarkable! That was a responsive answer to the question! You could agree or disagree with the substance of the response, but that politician showed real guts in choosing to give a responsive answer.”
Now let me offend the left. The interviewer asks: “How much would your proposal to provide free health care to everyone cost, and how would you pay for it?”
The interviewee could evade. But the critic would immediately point out the evasion.
Or the interviewee could answer the question, and immediately win accolades from the critic for having the guts to say something.
(This happened back in 1976. During the Democratic presidential primary, candidate Mo Udall told a pro-gun control audience at Harvard University that he knew he was going to lose much of the crowd with his answer to a question, but he opposed gun control. See? It’s okay. You can tell the truth. You lose to Jimmy Carter 28 percent to 22 percent, but at least you told the truth. That story was legendary among those who worked for Udall in ’76; the closest I could come to finding something in print describing the event was this.)
The instant critic could critique the interviewer, too. Suppose the interviewee answers a question. The interviewer says, “Well, I think you’re wrong! Now this.” And cuts to a commercial.
The critic should explain: “An interviewer is supposed to conduct an interview, not express his opinion, give the interviewee no chance to respond, and cut away to a commercial break. That was both unfair and bad interview technique.”
We could straighten everyone out!
The cat-and-mouse game played by interviewers and interviewees has become unbearably silly. You don’t hear honest answers to hard questions, and the main issue seems to be whether the politician being interviewed evades the question or lies.
If we cared, we could change all that.
Mark Herrmann spent 17 years as a partner at a leading international law firm and is now deputy general counsel at a large international company. He is the author of The Curmudgeon’s Guide to Practicing Law and Inside Straight: Advice About Lawyering, In-House And Out, That Only The Internet Could Provide (affiliate links). You can reach him by email at inhouse@abovethelaw.com.