Journalism Ethics and the Cybertruck

Comments from Jason Cammisa call into question Tesla's media rollout

Tesla Cybertruck, courtesy Tesla.

A WHILE BACK, one of my previous bosses described his personal automotive journalism philosophy to me like this: “Every car is shit. Until proven otherwise.”

Personally, it’s not my favorite. I’m more fond of something like: “Comfort the afflicted; afflict the comfortable.” You know—look out for the little guy. But they both hint at something that I consider crucial. And that’s skepticism.

Who gets to call themselves a journalist is murky these days. In the automotive world it’s even murkier. We have close relationships with automakers, and rely on their invitations for access to cars. You can be critical, but it helps to play nice. Often that leads to not a whole lot of journalism going on.

I was reminded of this earlier in the week when Jason Cammisa, a video host for Hagerty, went on The Smoking Tire podcast with Matt Farah. Cammisa had recently hosted a video review of the Tesla Cybertruck of which Farah was critical. And the two hashed it out live on the air.

I wouldn’t call Cammisa’s video journalism, per se. It’s a highly saturated, highly entertaining piece stuffed with mind-bending facts and figures about an over-the-top vehicle. There’s drag racing and go-karting. It’s got almost 5 million views. It’s fun.

But it’s not journalism. For a Lego-shaped block of stainless steel there is shockingly little consumer-centric concern and very little criticism. Most of all, there is almost no skepticism. Any tough questions are answered by Tesla, and accepted. Cammisa tested the vehicle’s acceleration and weighed it on a scale, commendably. For the most part, however, he takes Tesla at its word. This is a problem when we’re talking about a company that historically bends figures, denies facts and cherry-picks flashy features while dismissing tedious details like build quality and federal regulations.

And deadlines. And the prices it promised.

So I was surprised to hear on The Smoking Tire that Farah backed off his critique and apologized. And I was more surprised that the main gripe Cammisa had with Farah was that, “My personal brand is hardcore, factual journalism… you came for the integrity of the journalism.”

Cammisa is a talented presenter. He’s emotive, quick-witted and remarkably knowledgeable. His videos are innovative and incredibly entertaining. I’m a fan. But presenting is not journalism.

This is a problem that automotive journalism runs into a lot. Often it presents the appearance of journalism, and relies on the prestige. But it struggles to deliver the goods.

Tesla Cybertruck, courtesy Tesla.

Tesla Cybertruck: Framing is Everything

Cammisa was one of only three presenters hand-picked by Tesla to receive advanced time with the Cybertruck to produce videos. (The others were tech YouTuber Marques Brownlee and Top Gear editor Jack Rix.) Automakers frequently pick a select group of journalists to get an early crack at their cars. But for a vehicle as hyped and delayed as the Cybertruck, three is a remarkably small number.

Tesla has also invited additional skepticism upon itself. The company relies on self-made narratives to explain away lengthy delays or undelivered features. In 2020 it dissolved its public relations department completely, limiting the access of journalists to cover or even contact the company to answer questions.

The result is an automaker that, unlike any other, is afforded the opportunity to craft its own narrative without the need to respond to questions about it. Tesla picked which members of the media to work with, hand-fed them information, and closed itself off to outside questions without an accessible PR department. Cammisa played into this by focusing his video on facts and figures provided to him by the company. These typically centered around things like horsepower and engineering specifics, while he independently verified acceleration and weight. But they did not include information traditionally helpful to truck customers.

He did not, for instance, test its towing capability. He did not demonstrate the usability of the bed, or inquire about cooling the motors while under load—all questions which potential vocational buyers would want to know, and which would have been perfectly fair to ask of a company making its first truck. I’m particularly fixated on the fact that while most trucks have the highest tow ratings on their cheapest, stripped-out models, the Cybertruck is the exact opposite. To get its maximum tow rating of 11,000 pounds, you need to spring for the $79,990 dual-motor or the $99,990 triple-motor Cyberbeast model. Some versions of the F-150 will do 14,000 pounds for under $40,000.

Tesla Cybertruck, courtesy Tesla.

Cammisa also uncritically repeated the company’s explanation for its two-year delay, which was that Elon Musk himself drove an early prototype home one night and couldn’t park it in his driveway, declaring the vehicle “too big” and demanding that it be scaled down for practicality. This purportedly caused the delay, a statement that to my classically-trained journalist ears sounded immediately too neat, too clean, and too noble to believe on its face. Did this really happen? Or was Tesla concerned that buyers who placed millions in early deposits would not accept a four-year delay simply because building the Cybertruck for production was hard?

Journalism would have been asking the questions the company didn’t want to answer. It would have been asking for a response to this statement from former Insurance Institute for Highway Safety president Adrian Lund:

"The big problem there is if they really make the skin of the vehicle very stiff by using thick stainless steel, then when people hit their heads on it, it's going to cause more damage to them."

Or this one from George Washington University auto safety professor Samer Hamdarm:

"There might be a possibility of shock-absorbent mechanism that will limit the fact that you have a limited crumple zone."

Or this one from the European Transport Safety Council:

"We hope Tesla don't bring this vehicle to Europe. A vehicle of this size, power and huge weight will be lethal to pedestrians and cyclists in a collision."

(The council needn’t worry — the Cybertruck is likely never heading to Europe.)

Farah was right in his initial skepticism of the Cybertruck, and his insistence that it be viewed through the lens of Tesla’s previous troubles. He was correct that Musk and Tesla have engaged in union-busting, and this week Reuters reported the company had internal documents acknowledging mechanical failures in its cars for which it blamed consumers and refused to accept blame. The excellent book Ludicrous by journalist Ed Niedermeyer outlines in detail the many ways Tesla built its brand on hype and fame rather than quality and transparency.

Cammisa’s idea of “fact-based journalism” fell far short of acknowledging those claims, and he later distanced himself further from journalistic ethics during an appearance on the official Hagerty podcast, when he remarked at one point:

“I would hang myself if I worked for a traditional car company right now. Out of sheer embarrassment. When they start pulling this thing apart their mind is going to be blown to the point of, ‘Why do we even come to work every day?’ It's unbelievable.”

(Watch it here.)

I was shocked when I heard those words. Expressed freely and unprompted, they were not only unbecoming of a media personality—imagine a tech reporter saying they would hang themselves if they worked for any company besides Apple, or a sportswriter doing the same for any team but the Yankees, live on the air—but they also call into question all of the good work Cammisa did produce. They are free of any concern about the vehicle’s many valid criticisms. They are certainly free of skepticism. They are free of any of the ethical framework a trained journalist uses as a guide to inform consumers, besides also being appallingly callous.

Why This All Matters

Journalism is hard. The reasons that many automotive outlets don’t pursue it rigorously is that journalism is A) time-intensive and uncertain; B) pretty unsexy compared to glowing, brand-friendly reviews and; C) often outrageously expensive to produce. The Reuters report above required a team of four reporters and several editors to break.

But that doesn’t mean you skip it. Or strip the word of its pretense. Tech journalists hold Silicon Valley companies and executives to the fire every day. Sports journalists force teams to answer for their failures and uncover scandals otherwise swept under the rug.

Ironically, Cammisa veered closest to true journalism when he admitted some of his mistakes. In the interview with Farah he agreed that he likely over-stated the importance of the Cybertruck’s 48-volt system, that he wasn’t sure of the pickup bed’s dimensions because he didn’t think to measure it, and that he too readily accepted Tesla’s claim that its cars have broken safety test records in the past (the truth is more convoluted to explain so concretely).

Cammisa is not a trained journalist. He’s a trained mechanical engineer and holds a law degree. In reality he’s more like a tech personality or sports commentator. Which is fine. These people are free to champion certain causes or push any particular agenda they like. It’s often more entertaining than real journalism, which is dirty and difficult and almost universally unpopular. And as a commentator you’re free to espouse how great you are at playing Fortnite, or your skills at hitting a fastball, or how fast you can drive around a track, and pass them off as credentials. That won’t get you far at The New Yorker or with a Pulitzer committee. But it’s all fair game as a commentator.

It’s just not journalism. Unfortunately, Tesla and its Cybertruck have not earned the benefit of the doubt. They cannot be taken at their word. This is true of all automakers, yet Tesla in particular deserves an ultra-critical eye, as the brainchild of the world’s wealthiest man and, at times, his personal plaything to test unproven technology on the general public. They not only deserve skepticism; they demand it. We cannot afford to accept the Cybertruck story as Tesla tells it.

In this case, the mantra holds true as a guiding principle for any journalist: It’s shit, until proven otherwise.

Correction: The original post stated that only the top-level Cyberbeast model has a maximum towing capacity of 11,000 pounds when in fact the middle trim dual-motor version does as well. We regret the error.

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