But in the digital age, where traditional gatekeepers like Bradlee were followed by early internet editors who upheld journalistic standards in the first wave of digital news outlets, we’ve now arrived at platforms like Wikipedia, where volunteer moderators hold sway. Are we still holding truth to the same standards?
A loud no.
While Wikipedia presents itself as a neutral source of information written collaboratively, it faces increasing criticism that its policies, designed to promote neutrality and accuracy, are often exploited. Editors, hidden behind usernames like “Loki,” can exercise outsized influence on what millions of people see when they search for information online, including information about religion, culture and politics.
Wikipedia operates on five pillars, two of which are particularly relevant: first, that Wikipedia articles should be written from a neutral point of view, and second, that editors should treat each other with civility and respect. In theory, these pillars should foster an open, fair environment. In practice, however, these principles are often subverted. Editors can interpret “neutrality” in ways that align with their own biases, and civility is frequently ignored in favor of gatekeeping and condescension.
Individuals or organizations impacted by bias may find that their attempts to correct the record are blocked or dismissed.
One notable example is Wikipedia’s treatment of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), a highly respected organization dedicated to combating antisemitism and discrimination. Last June, Wikipedia’s volunteer editors overwhelmingly voted to classify the ADL as a “generally unreliable source” when it comes to the Israel-Palestine conflict and issues related to antisemitism. Many were shocked by this decision, given the ADL’s long-standing reputation as an authority on these topics.
The reasoning behind the decision reveals a troubling trend: editors claimed that ADL leaders took a vocal stance on Israel and Palestine, thereby politicizing the organization. They also argued that ADL’s position on the conflict no longer reflected the broader academic consensus. But critics maintain that this is a case of editors imposing their own biases on what should be a neutral, factual issue. More concerning is the difficulty that any organization, especially one as prominent as the ADL, faces when trying to appeal these decisions on Wikipedia.
All of which raises a broader issue: Where is the accountability? During Bradlee’s time, if a religious group or organization had a problem with a story in The Washington Post—which had a readership of around one million—they could take tangible action. The group could book an appointment with the editorial board or send a letter to the editor. The process, while not perfect, had structure and avenues for redress. Wikipedia, by contrast, operates behind a veil of anonymity, and its audience is exponentially larger. Last month alone, Wikipedia received 6.7 billion visits—an unprecedented reach for a platform with little oversight. Contributors can make far-reaching decisions with minimal accountability, and individuals or organizations impacted by bias may find that their attempts to correct the record are blocked or dismissed.
In many cases, those seeking correction are organizations representing non-Western or non-mainstream religions. These groups may face unique challenges in getting fair treatment on Wikipedia. Editors, largely from Western backgrounds, may dismiss or misunderstand their perspectives. Unlike with a traditional newsroom, there’s no editor like Ben Bradlee to ensure that these voices are heard or that factual corrections are made.
There is, as observed in the 2019 white paper entitled “News Editing and the Editorial Process,” an erosion of professional standards. “Despite the decline in gatekeeping power, professional editing still has an essential role—to curate quality out of the multitude of online voices and uphold a rigor for accuracy and truthfulness that can be easily overlooked on social media and non-professional news sites.”
This poignant statement rings particularly true in the context of Wikipedia. The volunteer-driven model allows for vast participation, but it lacks the rigor, training and ethical accountability that professional editors like Bradlee upheld. The editorial processes that guided The Washington Post ensured that stories were not only accurate but fair—something that Wikipedia’s anonymous editors, with no direct accountability to the public, often fail to achieve.
Since its inception in 2001, Wikipedia has faced several controversies. Many of these are centered around the platform’s editorial biases and uneven application of its rules. From accusations of systemtic bias against non-Western topics to disputes over which sources are deemed “reliable,” the platform has struggled to maintain its alleged claim to fame of neutrality as an “encyclopedia.” Notably, the website’s pages on contentious topics—like geopolitics, religion and race—are often battlegrounds for ideological disputes.
In 2007, a major controversy erupted over Wikipedia’s editors banning certain right-wing sources while allowing left-wing sources to remain. More recently, Wikipedia has been criticized for devaluing contributions from Indigenous communities, whose oral traditions and non-Western knowledge systems are often dismissed as “unreliable.”
These controversies highlight a deeper issue in the management of information: as Wikipedia’s reliance on volunteer editors grows, so does the potential for subjective bias and gatekeeping. The result is an increasingly fractured understanding of what qualifies as reliable knowledge.
In this new era of digital information, the gatekeepers have changed. But with this shift comes an urgent question: Who is accountable? Wikipedia’s broken pillars of neutrality and civility reveal a growing crisis in online information. In contrast to figures like Ben Bradlee—who personally ensured accuracy and accountability in the newsroom, and whose reputation was on the line—Wikipedia’s anonymous editors seem to have no one to answer to, allowing biases to creep into what is supposed to be a neutral, open platform.
On the anniversary of Bradlee’s passing, it’s worth reflecting on his legacy. His commitment to the truth stands as a stark reminder of the importance of public accountability. Wikipedia’s editors may be well-intentioned, but until they embrace the kind of rigorous editorial standards and public responsibility that Bradlee championed, we may continue to see the truth being “monkeyed with” in the world’s largest repository of digital knowledge.
