Among the words we (almost) never use in The Economist are our correspondents' names. I say “almost” because the special reports are signed, as is each editor's valedictory article (here is the one by our previous editor, Bill Emmott). But other articles have no bylines. Here is the explanation of the policy, lifted from the “about” page of our website:

Many hands write The Economist, but it speaks with a collective voice. Leaders are discussed, often disputed, each week in meetings that are open to all members of the editorial staff. Journalists often co-operate on articles. And some articles are heavily edited. The main reason for anonymity, however, is a belief that what is written is more important than who writes it. As Geoffrey Crowther, editor from 1938 to 1956, put it, anonymity keeps the editor “not the master but the servant of something far greater than himself. You can call that ancestor-worship if you wish, but it gives to the paper an astonishing momentum of thought and principle.”

From my own experience, the biggest practical consequence of anonymity is to invest our correspondents with an odd sort of glamour. More than once, people to whom I have introduced myself at conferences and the like have questioned me closely on my career and qualifications, saying that they are curious to know “what sort” of people write for The Economist. It reminds me of the Ankh-Morpork Times in Terry Pratchett's book, "The Truth", in which the articles are also unsigned. Over breakfast, one of the editor's fellow lodgers speculates as to the identity of the authors. “Oh, they'd be special people for doing this,” replies another. Really, he asks. “Oh, yes,” comes the reply. “They wouldn't allow just anyone to write what they like. That stands to reason.”



Surprisingly often, people seem to think that because our articles are unsigned, we in some sense operate undercover. (One blogger, Kevin Drum, went so far as to try to "out" as many of the writers who blog, since initials are given here, as he could.) In the course of musing on Brazilian politicians' nicknames in a previous post, I had reason to mention my own surname (Joyce). “OMG,” commented one reader. “I thought Economist correspondents were supposed never to reveal their names!” I've just spent a few happy minutes imagining what my work life would be like if that were the case: my business card with a blank where the name should be... turning up to interviews in a Mission-Impossible-style latex mask... responding to receptionists' requests to know who's calling with a laconic, “I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you...”



The truth is, of course, more prosaic. Even though you can't tell for sure who wrote which article, you can look us up in our media directory, and if we write for our sister publication, Intelligent Life, or chair one of our conferences or moderate one of our debates, our names are given. But the enduring fascination with our policy of anonymity is a reminder that sometimes the most powerful words are the ones that aren't said.