By Becky Holland
There are three words I have heard more times than I could ever count during more than 30 years in journalism:
“Off the record.”
Sometimes they are said quietly. Sometimes with hesitation. Sometimes with a glance over the shoulder. And sometimes with a question attached:
“Is anything really off the record with you?”
The implied question is usually this: Can I trust you?
My answer has always been the same.
Yes.
If we agree that something is off the record, then it stays off the record.
That phrase has a specific meaning in journalism. Generally speaking, “off the record” means information is given to a journalist with the understanding that it cannot be published or attributed to the person providing it.
There are related terms, too. “On background” may mean the information can be used without naming the source, depending on the agreement. “Not for attribution” may allow the information to be used with a general description of the source. But those terms only work when both the journalist and the source understand the ground rules.
That is why clarity matters.
A journalist should never assume something is off the record simply because the information is sensitive. And a source should not assume that saying “off the record” after making a statement automatically erases what was already said.
The agreement matters.
So does trust.
Trust may be one of the most important tools a journalist ever earns.
Through the years, people have told me things they were afraid to say publicly. Some were worried about their jobs. Some feared retaliation. Some simply wanted me to understand the bigger picture before I started asking questions.
Not every off-the-record conversation becomes a story.
Sometimes it simply points a reporter in the right direction.
It may tell us which document to request. Which meeting to review. Which person to call. Which question we have not yet thought to ask.
And sometimes it tells us that what we believed to be true was wrong.
That matters, too.
The purpose of journalism is not to prove a theory. It is to find the truth as best we can and report what can be verified.
That is one reason I take these conversations seriously.
If someone trusts me enough to speak privately, I do not treat that trust casually. I do not use an off-the-record conversation as a wink and a nod in print. I do not reveal identities by dropping obvious hints. I do not repeat confidential information around town.
That is not only an ethical issue.
It is a relationship issue.
Journalists build careers on relationships.
Those relationships are built one conversation at a time, one phone call at a time and, sometimes, one promise at a time.
Over three decades, I have been on both sides of the phrase “off the record.” I have heard it countless times, and I have said it myself when explaining the boundaries of a conversation.
I understand why people ask whether I really mean it.
We live in a world where private conversations can become screenshots in seconds. Trust can feel fragile.
But journalism cannot function without people willing to talk.
And people will not talk if they believe their trust will be betrayed.
That does not mean a journalist becomes anyone’s keeper of secrets at the expense of the public. It means we honor the terms we agreed to while continuing to seek information we can independently verify and report.
There is a difference.
A good reporter listens.
A responsible reporter verifies.
And a trustworthy reporter keeps her word.
So when someone looks at me and asks, “Is this really off the record?”
My answer is simple.
If we agreed that it is, then yes.
It really is.
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