T

hese stories are among the most complex in journalistic writing. First of all, the evidence is hard to come by. As the accused and whistleblowers (or the victims) in many cases provide contrasting accounts of the same events, it can often be a challenge to establish the facts. Most whistleblowers prefer to remain anonymous out of shame or fear of repercussions. Journalists must therefore verify each detail from multiple sources, backing up every piece of evidence with a digital or physical paper trail of instant messages, calendar entries and e-mails. A story only really starts coming together once patterns of repeated misconduct are identified. 

Even so, the investigative team and their supervisors will continue to ask critical questions and seek nuances, in an attempt to avoid tunnel vision. Given what is at stake for all involved, journalists must be meticulous in their recounting of events and carefully weigh up different readings and interpretations.

Privacy represents the greatest dilemma in this branch of journalism.

Does the public interest of publishing an article outweigh the reputational damage to the parties involved?

Rather than engaging in a witch hunt, as some people seem to believe, the editing team is preoccupied with establishing broader links, such as failures in the system. The newspaper’s coverage of DWDD focused on its toxic work environment, which had resulted in dozens of employee absence cases, while our stories about NOS Sport concentrated on a rogue work culture of bullying, sexism and exclusion. Some misconduct had been ongoing for years.

Managers at both organisations were aware of the issues, but didn’t step in. Our editing team sought to expose the workings of those enabling structures, as we believed this would contribute to the wider debate on misconduct in work settings. The DWDD’s excuse of “playing in the Champions’ League” is reiterated by its supporters. A culture that gives free rein to sexist jokes and inappropriate behaviour, and downplays concerns expressed by women, also acts as a mirror for countless other workplaces. 

However, it is nigh-on impossible to completely shield the accused from reputational damage. As long as no specific allegations are made, practically everyone could be a suspect; people will inevitably be traced or mentioned by name. 

Each story of misconduct invites a stream of fresh leads.

Our editors are selective about which ones to pursue, and ask numerous questions in the preliminary stages: does this lead mention a new type of misconduct or is it happening in a sector where you’d least expect it? Are reports being acted on? Is there a cover-up? Does the public interest of exposing this case outweigh the possible reputational damage to those involved?

We often decide not to initiate an investigation. Some cases share more traits with a labour dispute than misconduct. In others, an authoritative body will carry out an employee investigation themselves, thereby diminishing the journalistic need to shed light on events. And sometimes, a story confirms a known pattern of behaviour and holds no added value for the wider debate. 

An example of a new story is last year’s coverage of Wim Hof, the health guru who subjected his family to years of physical and emotional abuse. Our editors picked up the story because it shed light on a broader problem in society that often takes place behind closed doors: domestic abuse.