The Hutton inquiry has shone a bright light onto many things. Spooks, politicians, civil servants (and potential moles) will all be re-evaluating their ways of working (or leaking) in the light of the evidence that has been disclosed. So should journalists. Hutton may well have uncomfortable things to say about the way we gather news: how we evaluate and edit it and how we react when challenged as to its veracity. The public —- already pretty sceptical about what we say and how we operate —- will, I think, expect some evidence that journalists are putting their own house in order at the same
time as highlighting the issues for everyone else.

How do our own processes look in the light of the issues so far raised by Hutton?

Sources

We have a policy on sources. It says that we should use anonymous sources sparingly. It says that we should — except in exceptional circumstances —- avoid anonymous pejorative quotes. It says that we should avoid misrepresenting the nature and number of sources, and that we should do our best to give readers some clue as to the authority with which they speak. It says we should never, ever, betray a source.

How well do we do? I'd say, better than most, but not as good as we could or should be. We're also better than we were, but on some days the paper is still littered with examples of people flouting some of these guidelines (though never, I hope, the final one).

We all understand the reasons why. People will frequently only say interesting and important things if they can do so anonymously. Sometimes the reasons are ignoble (cowardice), sometimes noble (whistleblowing). At Westminster, in particular, what is accurate is often not on the record. So,
obviously, much has to be left to the judgement of the reporter. Sometimes the sensitivity may be such that writers may even have to be economical with the truth in identifying the nature of the source. Such occasions should be rare.

In all this you simply have to bear in mind the innocent reader, and the culminative effect of ploughing through a paper in which a significant degree of information is passed on without any means of knowing how to evaluate it. We're effectively asking readers to take a lot on trust. And the one thing we know from all surveys is that readers are increasingly sceptical about placing their trust in newspapers (though, thankfully, Guardian readers place a very great degree of trust in the Guardian).

I know, you know, that the most vaguely-sourced story can also be the most authoritative. Just remember that the reader doesn't.

There is a similar difficulty in trying to set a rule of thumb about the number of sources we need before we'll print something. It's pretty obvious that it's generally good journalistic practice to speak to as many people as possible in putting together a story. You test the information Source A gives you against the information Source B gives you. You may even be reluctant to ring Source C in case he/she knocks down the story from Sources A and B. Ring Source C.

Equally, there are instances when a person you know to be truthful tells you something from their own personal knowledge. As the head of MI6, Sir Richard Dearlove, told the Hutton Inquiry: "Much high quality intelligence proved to be factual is single-sourced." If the Archbishop of Canterbury rang to tell you he was resigning tomorrow, you'd print it.

The difficulty comes where (as seems to have been the case with Dr Kelly) a reliable, well-placed and knowledgeable source mixes information of which he/she has personal, first-hand knowledge, with material of which he/she has less direct knowledge. He/she may, in other words, be a good, single source for some information, while other parts — from the same person — would require verification from another source. Any reporter who's spent more than a morning in court learns the difference between hearsay evidence and direct evidence. One carries weight in court, the other doesn't. Journalism can seldom aspire to be as rigorous as legal proceedings. But we should bear in mind that fundamental distinction between types of information and types of source, if for no other reason that your story might end up in court.

A good general rule might be this : stories should wherever possible be multi- sourced. Where that is not possible, the reliance on a single source should be made clear to desk editors and the matter discussed fully. The desk editor may well ask about such matters as: why there is no other way of
verifying the story; whether the single source is trusted and in a position to know what they are divulging to us; and whether the story is in the public interest. If there is a chance that additional sources could be obtained by holding off publication by a day or even a few days, then we may
want to wait, unless there is an overwhelming need — not just the general desire for competitive edge — to get the story out immediately.

Finally, we should , as ever, guard against the lazy habit of using quotes from other papers when pressed at deadline — and we should always attribute the source of any such lifted quotes. Wherever possible we should strive to speak directly to relevant parties.


Sexing up

Every editor since 1921 has received a steady dozen or so letters a week reminding him of what CP Scott had to say on the subject of comment and fact and hinting that the great editor was currently to be found rotating in his burial place. But all the evidence does suggest that, given a choice, Guardian readers would rather we did give them the unvarnished truth — or our best stab at it. It seems obvious enough. But inside many journalists — this goes for desk editors as much as reporters — there is a little demon prompting us to make the story as strong and interesting as possible, if not more so. We drop a few excitable adjectives around the place. We over-egg.We may even sex it up.

Strong stories are good. So are interesting stories. But straight, accurate stories are even better. Readers who stick with us over any length of time would far rather judge what we write by our own Richter scale of news judgements and values than feel that we're measuring ourselves against the competition. Every time we flam a story up we disappoint somebody — usually a reader who thought the Guardian was different. We should be different. Of course we compete fiercely in the most
competitive newspaper market in the world. Of course we want to sell as many copies as possible. We've all experienced peer pressure to write something as strongly as possible, if not more so. But our Trust ownership relieves us of the necessity to drive remorselessly for circulation to the exclusion of all else. In other words, we don't need to sex things up, and we shouldn't.

Notes

Statement of the obvious: it is very important to keep a full, fair, accurate and contemporaneous note of any interview. Sometimes — equally obviously —- this is easier said than done. We've all been in situations where it's not sensible to whip out pad and pencil and start scribbling away like mad.

At least, this may be obvious to journalists, who know how such behaviour can cause a timid interviewee to clam up at the crucial moment. It may be less obvious to a judge.

So, if you can't make contemporaneous notes, make them as soon afterwards as possible. Electronic notepads or PDAs may be fine so long as the notes are no less full than they would have been with plain old paper and pen. And be prepared (a la Gilligan) to have computer experts toiling over your hard disc trying to prove you amended them at a later date.

Again, anyone who's done any court reporting knows that barristers specialise in undermining police evidence. Reporters tend to be trusted rather less than policemen. Increasingly, investigative reporters accept that notes on their own may be of limited evidential value and go to some lengths to have tape or video back-ups. On stories which are likely to be challenged this is a sensible precaution, within the obvious bounds of privacy and fairness (see the PCC Code).

If your shorthand is rusty or non-existent, we can train you.

Keep your notebooks safe. The archivists at Number 60 will happily store them in secure and confidential conditions. The Sunday Times reporters who covered Bloody Sunday were surprised to find the Wapping archivists had kept all their notebooks safe for nearly 30 years.

What goes for notes goes for all other documentation you might need to defend your story should it ever end up in court. Keep it safe.

But — just to make life difficult —- there may be situations where clever lawyers may try to use confidence, data protection and/or contempt laws to try and subpoena documents, emails, tapes and notes. So there may be a genuine tension between wanting to keep notes and wanting to vanish them in order to protect sources. In this case you need to speak to our....

Lawyers

Long ago — actually not so very long ago —- the Guardian employed no lawyers. Now, as luck would have it, we have the best legal team in Fleet Street. There's almost nothing they don't know about getting stories into the paper, about defending them —- and you —- when under attack. And about how to protect sources, handle documents and libel-proof stories. So, please, consult them early and consult them often. They'd far rather be pestered in advance of publication than sweep up afterwards.

E-Mails

Hutton has shown what a treasure trove emails are to inquisitive lawyers. An instant,
semi-conversational medium at its best can turn into a devastating audit of procedures and cringe-making internal debates. It will, I guess, be completely commonplace for plaintiff lawyers to seek
discovery of internal emails in future court cases. Emails to Siobhain's team would probably be legally privileged. Other emails probably wouldn't be. And remember: just because you delete them from your own queue doesn't mean they can't be recovered.

Self-entrapment.

Many Guardian writers now talk, or write, about their work in other media. Remember the cautionary tale of Andrew Gilligan and the Mail on Sunday. In other words, it's a waste of time lawyering every last semi-colon in the Guardian if someone then goes on Radio Five and speaks with a rather
broader brush. On sensitive stories be very careful to stick exactly to what has been agreed in print. That goes for tone as much as facts. And I'm afraid it also goes for entering into email exchanges with people who present themselves as innocent readers. More than one Guardian journalist has been lulled into a false sense of security via this route — only to find their words splattered all over some hostile website or weblog.

Fairness


Another bit of the famous CP Scott essay: "It is well to be frank; it is even better to be fair." In fact, this is now enshrined in libel law, as anyone who's read the landmark Reynolds judgement knows. You may well have more protection if you can demonstrate that

• you've put allegations to the people about whom you're writing in good time for them to respond
• you've included their response, or a sufficient flavour of it
• you've written in a reasonable tone reflecting the sureness of your knowledge (ie it may be
  better to pose a question than assert something as a fact).

All this may seem a little severe and cheerless. It's not meant to be. Most of the above is both common sense as well as good practice. But we're living in a different environment now, and it's as well to keep reminding ourselves of a few of the basics. Even if (Scott again): "achievement in such matters is hardly given to man. We can but try, ask pardon for shortcomings, and there leave the matter."

But not before we've added "woman."

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