According to Wiktionary, in this context, “canned” is defined as “terminated,” as in “fired from a job.”
I used to write opinion pieces for the University Daily Kansan. I say used to, because I no longer do. The story of why that is the case, written here in four parts, I hope will be illustrative of how journalism functions today and what it means for those with vocal, principled stances on ongoing crises.
1 - How I Got Canned
Since October 7th, 2023, efforts by KU students against the ongoing genocide in Palestine have been ramping up. KU’s Graduate Teaching Assistants Coalition (GTAC) union was quick to condemn the genocide, to which KU Chancellor Doug Girod responded with a statement of condemnation, which does not once mention Palestine or its people as well as insinuates that support for the Palestinian resistance is hateful and akin to terrorism. A month later, the Muslim Student Association hosted multiple campus-wide walkouts, the first of which terminated at Allen Fieldhouse while the second lasted for hours as a sit-in in Strong Hall outside Doug’s office.
Organizing efforts, including the formation of a Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) chapter at KU, culminated in last spring’s encampment at the tent outside of Fraser hall. Its first day included a pitiful zionist counterprotest, featuring someone pretending to jerk off on the encampment, summer camp-style songs meant to drown out calls for the recognition of Palestinian humanity, and a statement from local Rabbi Zalman Tiechtel calling the protestors, including the Jewish anti-zionist protestors, terrorists. Across its time of operation, however, there was always surveillance. From Student Affairs to KUPD to the Lawrence PD to Eudora PD to DeSoto PD, the University was watching. The end of the encampment, of course, began with the posting of an unmarked memo, ostensibly from the University, telling students they had to leave so that grounds could mow the lawn ahead of graduation the next day. That evening, KU sent the police after the protestors, wherein officers raided the encampment, stole the mountain of cases of water bottles built up under the tent, and arrested three students, who have since had their charges dropped.
As part of the fallout, the University decided to bring charges against SJP itself for what it deemed violations of University policy. These alleged violations include use of a megaphone, which was ceased the moment KU Student Affairs said that it could not be used, violating postering policy, which was never addressed by the University during the encampment, and use of camping paraphernalia, which was not only used well within KU guidelines, despite them being changed during the encampment, but can actually be rented from the University.
All of this context aims to illustrate what led to the events of October 11th, 2024 at Strong Hall. There, the informal closed-door hearing on these charges, in which the prosecutor for the University was also the judge, took place. Prior to this hearing, SJP said they needed a media liaison for the event, to which I responded that I would serve in that role for this event. I worked with members of SJP to prepare for serving at the event, working through potential questions and messaging strategies when speaking to the media.
At the event, during the hour I was there, only one media organization came to report - the Kansan. The Kansan reporter, Aminah, actually recognized me as being the one working on “the mold piece”, which was later published as my final Kansan piece. Aminah and the Kansan’s photographer were both respectful, asking me questions only once we were set up and ready. They even asked me how I would want to be identified in the piece, to which I responded by asking them to just say “Jack S”. I left to lead a work meeting shortly thereafter, ending my role as SJP’s media liaison.
About five minutes after the start of that meeting, my opinion editor, Piper Puccetti, messaged me via Teams to ask if I was the media liaison for SJP at the Strong Hall quiet protest, to which I responded that I was. It was then that I was informed that, due to a “conflict of interest” I could no longer write for the Kansan. I, attempting to process this sudden event while at work, attempted to explain that I was in this role temporarily and that this would not be a conflict going forward, to which Piper responded by saying she would talk to Courtney Lane, editor-in-chief at the Kansan, about it. That evening, their judgment was made final, with Piper citing the “integrity” of the Kansan as a concern. She also included, though, that the three pieces I had slated for publication could still be published. I canned two of them, one of which, Stop Telling Me to Vote, is up on the Rose.
This piece on the hearing, which, against my request, includes my full first and last name, has an editor’s note at the top which reads as follows:
Jack Shaw, a contributor to the Daily Kansan, served as the media liaison for KU Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) at the event featured in this article. Due to a conflict of interest, Shaw will no longer be writing for the Kansan.
I happened to be at home in Overland Park that evening. When I told all of this to my parents, they were as confused as I was, and at least for my mom, a fair bit more candid. A member of a local news organization, who my parents happen to know, agreed that something was up with this situation. Members of SJP agreed as well, even suggesting I bring action against the Kansan.
Consider this piece to be that action.
As a final note before getting into the substance of this situation, I want to clarify that I do not mean for any of this to be a personal attack leveled against individuals at the Kansan. Even though I am specific about who has said and done what to me, this is by no means a bitter manifesto of personal attacks against those discussed here. I even think there’s some good writing that comes out of the Kansan. What I mean for this lengthy piece to be is a response to the bizarre situation the Kansan created for me and what we may be able to take away from it.
2 - Conflict of Interest
What was perhaps the hardest thing for me to wrap my head around in this situation is what it meant for me to have a conflict of interest. After all, I was an opinion writer, so having opinions was a crucial part of my role. It seems to be worth it, then, to consider what it means to have a conflict of interest.
The University of Central Florida’s University Compliance and Ethics page defines the term in a broad sense as being “when an individual’s personal interests – family, friendships, financial, or social factors – could compromise his or her judgment, decisions, or actions in the workplace… Conflicts of interest are a clash that most often occurs between requirements and interests.” In this sense, a conflict of interest is fundamentally a conflict between one’s duty/requirements and some outside, external factor. For example, if I was a sitting congressperson and I was offered money or gifts to vote a certain way on a bill, that would be a conflict of interest between my duty as a public official to act on behalf of my constituency and this entity offering me a material reward for disregarding that duty. Such a violation could even land me in legal trouble! Of course, if I were to call it lobbying, it would be alright with the law, but I digress.
In the context of journalism, the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ), in their code of ethics, discusses conflicts of interest as being things which would impair your ability as a journalist to remain fair and impartial in your reporting. The SPJ elaborates that “objectivity in today’s superheated political environment may be impossible, but impartiality should still be a reporter’s goal. Even those who are paid to have opinions — columnists, editorial writers, talk show hosts, bloggers (OK, maybe not always paid) — should at least be aware of all relevant points of view.” In this way, a conflict of interest arises from involvement and/or affiliation with outside organizations. For example, if I was a news reporter on a local branch of the Democratic party, I should not also be a keynote speaker at one of their events. Still, the SPJ’s interpretation, while it explicitly includes opinion writers, clarifies that they ”should at least be aware of all relevant points of view,” not that they cannot have a point of view themselves. So long as I do my due diligence as a contributor, then, there seems to be some leeway in having biases in being an opinion writer.
The Kansan has their own set of publicly-available guidelines, which may grant some insight into how they understand conflicts of interest. Under their “Ethics” section, their “Conflicts of Interest” entry reads as follows:
Staff members, or anyone who writes for the Kansan, must be free from any obligation or the appearance of obligation to any interest other than the public’s right to the dissemination of news and informed opinion. A staff member should not write about, photograph or make news judgments about any individual related by blood or marriage or with whom the staff member has a personal, financial or romantic relationship. Staff members should not report on organizations for which they are a member. (Examples: Sports staff cannot work for KU Athletics; arts staff cannot review a play and be a cast member.) A staff member who is placed in a circumstance in which the potential for this kind of conflict exists should advise the editor
Let’s go through this section as it relates to my situation.
The first line is the one that intrigues me the most. It clearly parallels some of the language and intent of the SPJ’s guidelines, though as it is written, it is a bit of a catch-all. The requirement that any and all non-guest contributors to the Kansan, staff or otherwise, cannot have so much as the “appearance of obligation” to anything but the concept of the news raises some interesting questions about where the lines of what counts as an obligation or an appearance thereof. Can a sports writer cheer for KU at a basketball game? Can a beat writer on climate change speak publicly in favor of decarbonization? Ultimately, it is up to those in charge at the Kansan what conflicts do and don’t rise to the level of discipline or, as in my case, outright expulsion.
This section also leaves much unclear about to what extent this applies to different types of writers. The examples provided are clear conflicts of interest, as they demonstrate direct involvement in organizations which, crucially, pertain to that which the reporter is reporting on. As for opinion writers though, even during my time at the Kansan, the barriers between what I could and could not write about and what I could or could not say were not always clear. As an opinion writer, clearly, I can have opinions. In fact, ground and grassroots political work, like the investigation of the city council, understanding the perspective of SJP, or being at the encampment, may be in the interest of informed opinion, not based on any personal, financial or romantic relationship, and thus is valuable for my writing.
Perhaps, then, is my public involvement with SJP. Based on the provided examples, though, that should not have been a problem, as there is a difference between being a vocal member of a group while also being affiliated with a (student) news organization versus being a vocal member of a group while claiming to be reporting objectively on that same group. In fact, the guidelines specify that “staff members should not report on organizations for which they are a member,” but make no mention of non-staff contributors like myself.
If the Kansan had told me I could no longer report on SJP, I would have probably said that made sense. If they had told me I could no longer report on Palestine broadly, I would have been upset, but I may have still accepted it. Heck, if they had told me I could no longer report on the news whatsoever, I would have likely fought that, but perhaps they could have justified it. What was, I think, the most frustrating part of my canning was that they determined, opaquely and internally, that I could not be affiliated with the Kansan whatsoever going forward. What’s the point of putting “The op-ed below does not necessarily reflect the views of the University Daily Kansan and its members” at the top of most of my opinion articles, even one about how important it is to call your grandparents, if you are going to hold me, an opinion editorial writer, to the same opinion-having standards as news reporters? Other student publications have explicit political endorsements, as do professional outlets. What was so different about what I was saying?
3 - Journalistic Integrity
The thing I was second-most frustrated by, behind the unilateral nature of their action against me, was the Kansan’s invocation of the “integrity” of their publication, which doxxed the 3 arrested students from the spring’s encampment. It seems prudent, then, to (dare I say do my due diligence) investigate what integrity means for journalism
According to NPR’s Public Newsletter, “newsrooms only have guidelines. When the founders of this country wrote the First Amendment… they created a system where the only regulating forces on professional journalism are self-regulation, civil courts and public pressure.” As such, “the only standards that can be enforced are those imposed from within.” Of course, the code of ethics from SPJ is an example of what journalists broadly agree ought to be considered in these discussions, but the code also makes the following clear:
[The code] is not a set of rules, rather a guide that encourages all who engage in journalism to take responsibility for the information they provide, regardless of medium. The code should be read as a whole; individual principles should not be taken out of context. It is not, nor can it be under the First Amendment, legally enforceable.
As such, Integrity is whatever a given organization deems it to be. For the Kansan, my involvement with SJP constituted enough of a conflict of interest such that keeping me as a part of their organization would violate what they deemed to be integrity. It is undeniable that I have clear, public ties to other organizations; I am the treasurer and Administration working group hub leader of Sunrise KU, the Vice President of KU YDSA, and I suppose, the media liaison for SJP, among other affiliations. The question, then, is when and how these affiliations become relevant.
The “Advocacy and Political Activity” entry in the “Ethics” section of the Kansan’s aforementioned publicly-available guidelines reads as follows:
Staff members are encouraged to exercise their franchise as citizens to discuss matters of public interest and to register and vote in referenda, primaries and general elections. But because the Kansan’s mission requires stringent efforts against partiality and perceived bias, staff members should not be involved in any political activity beyond that.
There are a few problems here. For one, as stated prior, I am not staff, nor was I; I was, by their own words, “a contributor,” but never an official staff member, let alone a paid one. The section on conflicts of interest even clarified its scope was beyond just staff writers, while this one did not. For another, even if we assume these standards extend to me, the “stringent efforts against partiality and perceived bias” clearly didn’t extend to my advocacy work prior to advocating and speaking on behalf of SJP. Why didn’t Sunrise constitute “political activity”, especially when I was writing as an acknowledged member of the organization?
Perhaps the most evident problem, however, is the fact that, despite this perceived violation of the integrity of this publication, they not only said they would publish my pieces already slated for release, but they actually published my mold piece, wherein they included the following at the top of the article:
Editor's note: This article was written before Jack Shaw's departure from the Kansan. Shaw is a media liaison for the Student's for Justice in Palestine (SJP), which was determined to be a conflict of interest for our publication going forward. However, we have decided this has not conflicted with this particular article.
Read that last line again. They carved out an exception! They said they couldn’t have their publication treating with me going forward and then immediately said that this particular piece was an exception! Why, then, other pieces, which would have nothing to do with Palestine, let alone SJP, not have been made a part of this exception? What makes this all the more laughable to me is that this piece was a news piece! It was the only one I ever wrote for them, yet despite apparently having done something so egregious as to never be allowed to write for them again, they felt perfectly comfortable letting me bash the failures of KU Housing on the front of their news page and the top of their tri-weekly newsletter! The cherry on top is calling what happened “[my] departure from the Kansan”; I suppose you could also say that Stalin “removed life” from Trotsky.
4 - Why I Got Canned
At the core of my “departure” is the notion of rules and their enforcement. With something like constitutional bylaws, there are clear, binding restrictions on how a given organization can and cannot function. With guidelines, however there is much more room for interpretation and, by extension, choice as to when and how they are enforced. Compounded with the expected incompetency of the task of disciplining being given to the disciplinee’s peers, it should not be too surprising that the Kansan was so quick to take such unilateral action. After all, they could easily justify their choice under a given interpretation of “conflict of interest” to maintain “integrity” of their publication.
However, there is one more factor that I think best explains why I was canned from this University-funded organization.
It’s Palestine.
Back in February, I pitched to the Kansan a piece on the ICL chemical manufacturing facility in North Lawrence. I had been canvassing in the area a few months prior with BDS KC to see what people in the area thought of the facility and how it had affected their lives and livelihood. ICL, formerly Israeli Chemicals Limited, manufactures white phosphorus, which is used against the Palestinians and Lebanese by Israel, as well as pollutes our local environment beyond acceptable levels. After initially considering it as a news piece, the Kansan greenlit it as an opinion piece. What followed was a solid month of research, gathering sources, exploring government webpages, and becoming increasingly horrified in what was happening in Palestine.
After submitting a draft to the then-opinion editor Courtney, she called me in for a meeting. There, she explained what was wrong at that point with the piece, and, to her credit, she was right; It contained claims I couldn’t explicitly verify and had no statement from ICL themselves, meaning I had not done my due diligence (comedy comes in threes). At one point during the meeting, I even proposed outright ditching the piece, as it was sounding like it was not worth pursuing further. Instead, we worked through it, built a plan for it, and I got back to work.
I did end up finishing the piece. It’s published if you want to read it. But not in the Kansan. That’s because, after kicking the can down the road a few times, I was informed by Courtney on the first day of the encampment that the Kansan would not be publishing the piece, as my involvement with the encampment was a “conflict of interest” for the publication.
There’s that term again. Used in reference to the same issue.
It’s not like this is some absurd, unprecedented claim to make. Here I want to talk about Dr. Steven Salaita. Salaita is a Palestinian man who spent years as a professor of English at Virginia Tech, focusing on marginalized peoples, including Palestinians and American Indians. In 2013, Salaita was offered a tenured position in the American Indian studies program at the University of Illinois, a program created in response to growing discontent with the school’s indigenous mascot, the Fighting Illini, starting in fall of 2014. In the meantime, Salaita was vocally critical of Israel’s actions during the 2014 Gaza war and the slaughter of over 2000 Palestinians. In response to this, zionist donors at Illinois accused Salaita of antisemitism, leading the chancellor to revoke his hiring in August of 2014 – something largely unprecedented, especially right before the start of the school year. Generally, a department selects who they think would be fit for a job and then the university signs off on it without objection. This was the exception.
What followed was a legal case in which the donor pressure was revealed to have been the reason for the chancellor’s decision, leading her to eventually resign. Salaita got $875,000 in a settlement in November of 2015, but he was still left jobless. In lieu of his tenure, Salaita became a bus driver to make ends meet. A similar situation later transpired with his appointment to a director at the American Institute in Beirut, with that position being suddenly dissolved. He has since said he will be leaving American academia for good.
Invoking Salaita here is not an attempt to compare my situation to his, nor is it to place us on equal footing in how our respective situations impacted our livelihoods. Instead, this is meant to illustrate that support for Palestine, especially in academic spaces, is often met with swift and decisive yet nebulous and technical action by administrators of these spaces, such as a sudden dismissal under zionist pressure, real or fictitious, and from the administration that harbors them.
It was not a conflict of interest to advocate for gun control, neither on my part nor on Courtney’s. It was not a conflict of interest to endorse a political candidate, neither on the part of the New York Times’ editorial board nor on Courtney’s. What makes being explicitly pro-Palestine, and by extension, anti-zionist, unique is that it is seen as against the status quo order in a sufficiently disruptive way as to require a direct, aggressive response. There is a reason a pro-choice protest is not met with police presence but a racial justice, anti-police protest includes burning my friends with tear gas, snipers on top of Chuys pointing their rifles at me, and the National Guard standing by with their rubber bullets and hundreds of zipties at the ready. The interests I represent, no matter how much they align with those of whomever the Kansan considered to be the “public”, no matter how well-argued or well-researched they may be, exist outside of hegemonic controlled opposition and thus must be squashed.
Of course, the Kansan has behaved cowardly in other contexts as well. In mid-October of 2023, I pitched co-writing a piece about City Council candidate Mike Dever with a member of Sunrise Lawrence. Before I could finish my first sentence, however, then-editor-in-chief Matthew Petillo cut me off and said “no, we’re not touching that,” shutting down discussion altogether. Still, unlike the Dever story, what Palestine represents is more than something that could bring simple disagreement or conflict; it represents a new paradigm, a path forward not beaten for us by those with the biggest sticks.
I want to end this piece by talking a bit about objective journalism. All this discussion about impartiality and accounting for biases in your work not only unclearly applies to opinion work and is subjective in its enforcement, but it is also based in a philosophy that is fundamentally wrong in its approach to news. While it is undoubtedly important to report factually and, dare I say for a fourth (and therefore unfunny) time, do one’s due diligence, to assume a position as an unbiased, objective subject is impossible, nor is it worth striving for. I fully acknowledge that all of what I have said here is shaped by my biases and perceptions and, ultimately, it was my judgment and creativity that brought this piece together in the way I did; I chose to juxtapose things with other things, I chose what sources to use, I chose how to word things, and so on.
In a panel hosted by Columbia University, an institution which embraces its protest history while rejecting its protest present, 2016 Pulitzer winner Wesley Lowery observed that “the act of journalism, no matter how much we may fetishize the idea of objectivity, requires a series, a pyramid, of subjective decision-making” and that decisions about what to (and what not to) publish have been made “almost exclusively by upper-class white men.” He went on to argue that “there’s not a single day in most cities that the local mainstream newspapers properly, fairly, accurately cover the Black community, the immigrant community, the gay community.” Moreover, he asserted that “a bunch of people telling themselves they’re objective journalists and then writing their opinions into the news, and doing so by deciding what stories they cover and what stories they don’t cover.” Crucially, he concluded that objectivity “has always been wielded to silence people who do not fit with the politics of the people who own and operate the newspapers.” Journalism creates its own boundaries, and that which they choose to include or exclude anything but objective.
I have biases, many of which are against the status quo and its institutions, some of which are radically so. Perhaps some expressions of this fact constitute conflicts of interest, perhaps others do not. Perhaps these biases risk violating the integrity of some organizations I chose to affiliate myself with, particularly those who believe they can sufficiently rid themselves of bias as to claim to be espousing the objective truth. That’s their call to make, as it is mine to move beyond them.
As a matter of opinion, I think it’s better to write for the Rose instead anyway.
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