Have you ever wondered what goes into granting anonymity in journalism—and why we so rarely agree to it?
I ask because I’ve been approached many times by people who want to share a story, but only if their name isn’t used. In every case so far, I haven’t moved forward—not because the stories weren’t important, but because anonymity must be treated as a last resort. If journalism is about accountability and trust, then so too must our sources be.
I get it. I’ve spent my career reporting in ski towns, where everyone runs into each other at the grocery store or on the chairlift. In tight-knit communities, people fear professional blowback or becoming the subject of the next gossip cycle. Avoiding questioning gazes is easier said than done.
But discomfort is not the same as danger. And being worried about awkward interactions doesn’t, on its own, justify removing your name from the story.
Still, some believe journalists are happy to use anonymous sources—as though it’s a way to sneak in juicy details or speed up a scoop. It’s not. It’s a weighty ethical decision, and one that can backfire when used improperly.
There are powerful examples of anonymity being used for the public good—like whistleblowers exposing corruption or danger. But there are equally powerful cautionary tales. Take the Rolling Stone’s 2014 “A Rape on Campus” article, which relied almost entirely on one anonymous source. It collapsed under scrutiny, leading to lawsuits, retractions, and lasting damage to public trust.
Journalists must also navigate a digital landscape that complicates the conversation even more. The internet has made it easier than ever to publish content anonymously. Whether through a social post, blog, or comment section, misinformation (mistakenly sharing false information) disinformation (intentionally sharing a falsehood), and malformation (where real information is shared with harmful intent) can now travel faster and hit harder than the truth.
Anonymous posts can destroy reputations, spread falsehoods, and contribute to a growing distrust in media institutions. When news outlets echo anonymous claims without due diligence, we risk becoming part of the problem.
That’s why editorial standards are so strict. The Washington Post, for example, requires editors to know the identity of any anonymous source and to rigorously vet the information. The Society of Professional Journalists reminds us to identify sources whenever feasible and to question motives of anyone who wants to stay anonymous.
In Canada, the stakes are even higher when things go wrong. Libel and defamation laws protect people from false or damaging statements, even in journalism. If a reporter publishes defamatory content—especially from an anonymous source—and it’s not demonstrably true or in the public interest, they can face legal action. The law allows for fair comment and responsible communication on matters of public importance, but those defences rely on clear sourcing, due diligence, and good faith.
Anonymous sources muddy that water. They make it harder to prove reliability or motive. They make it harder to defend against legal claims. And they make it harder for the public to believe us.
At Pique, we follow the same standards practiced by major outlets. We ask: Is the story in the public interest? Can the information be verified elsewhere? Is the source facing real risk, not just reputational discomfort? Without meeting those conditions, we don’t move forward.
Because when we let someone speak from the shadows, we owe our readers more light. Our audience deserves to know why we’ve protected a source and why the information still holds water. Trust isn’t just something we ask for—it’s something we earn with every decision, including the decision not to publish.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with asking for anonymity. It can be an important first step in a larger conversation. But if the final ask is to share a serious allegation or claim without being named, we need to think hard about who that really serves—and who might get hurt.
As journalists, our job is to listen, investigate, and report responsibly. We’re not in the business of hiding people from the consequences of their words. We’re in the business of truth—and the truth carries more weight when it has a name behind it.
