Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Commenting on commenting (Assignment 3b)

For my “intro to online marketing” assignment (oops, I mean Assignment 3 – haha), I originally wrote an obnoxious treatise on what the definition of journalism is. I figured that it would get quite a reaction from my classmates, even if that reaction was just pissing them off and getting lots of “you f****g suck” posted on my blog. After all, this assignment had absolutely nothing to do with soliciting comments of value. Here we were shooting for quantity, not quality.

So with that in mind, it was actually pretty easy to get people to comment. But I had to write about something bound to cut across a wider spread of my social networks. And after I received umpteen emails, tweets, and even invitations to join groups on Facebook with names like, “Yes, I have seen the video of Susan Boyle singing,” I knew I had found my ticket.

I do think that the content of the post, to some extent, matters. I say “to some extent” because ultimately the Internet is certainly populated with hordes of folks who are happy as clams to respond to banal, vile, vapid content. To write this post, I started in the real world. I made my pitch to my boyfriend, to a classmate, and to a few other folks who happened to be standing within earshot once I started ranting. This was something a lot of people had seen and reacted to. What better fodder for a commenting fire?

The comments themselves are on the sophisticated side, which is entirely due to the group of people I solicited feedback from. I sent out a few emails to friends and others in my extended acquaintance social networks. I posted it as a note on Facebook and tagged a few folks to get their attention. I used the subject line “help me do my homework” to guarantee the emails would be opened. But I also restricted the amount of people who could view the post to certain pockets of my social network. Not because I didn't want their opinion about Ms. Boyle, but because I don't like sharing writing with a wide range of people unless I am very proud of it. In that sense, I could never be a blogger in the way that Ms. Huffington told Jon Steward it should be done. I don't want to just put it out there, leave it, and see what happens. I have writer's insecurity issues.

Had I truly wanted to promote it far and wide – had I felt comfortable enough promoting the post to the full extent of my social network – there are plenty of other things I would have done. I would have posted it on Digg and told my friends to either comment or Digg the article. I would have urged them to cross-post it to other places. I would have posted it on Twitter.

But in the end, I rather enjoyed the results. In true micro-niche format, I was able to engage in an open environment (anyone is welcome to read the post, should they find it) but with an invited group of participants. And it wasn't just a circle of people patting each other on the intellectual back.

Receiving feedback was definitely more rewarding than not.

Monday, April 20, 2009

The Susan Boyle phenomenon (assignment 3a.2)

People won't shut up about Susan Boyle.

But despite all the teary-eyed colleagues who claim that "you just have to see her performance!" or the mass email that I and every other woman at Smith over the age of 23 received last week, I'm honestly not convinced. Though Susan gave a lovely performance, this whole thing stinks of a pre-packaged formula meant to spice up viewership and give the audience an emotional connection with the Britain's Got Talent brand.

I took a good seven minutes out of my lunch break to watch the video and I would describe my reaction as the following journey:
  1. This woman is not ugly (which is what everyone who had described her to me up until that point had said).
  2. Everyone's reactions to this woman -- who is funny and dorky and cute like a grandmother might be -- reminds me how hideous our culture actually is.
  3. Of course she had an amazing voice. They wouldn't have put her on otherwise. The producers knew that people would be "surprised."
  4. Every reaction each judge has merely reinforces the fact that Susan's acceptance is entirely based on her ability to perform in this well-honed sphere of "talent." Had she failed to deliver, she would simply return, in the eyes of the viewers and judges, to being an unattractive woman.
I have been told that I'm overintellectualizing this whole thing. Why can't I just "let her have this moment" and why do I need to "ruin it for her?" But for me, this moment has very little to do with Susan Boyle. It has a lot more to do with our reactions to this video of her performance.

And mind you this whole ordeal has been completely shaped by an editing room that went out of their way to be sure that you knew she was thought of as a social reject.

The only reason we (the grand all-encompasing "we") accept Susan Boyle is because she excels as a singer and because we don't expect her to. And even that definition of "excelling" is shaped by the parameters of the show itself. What would have happened had she opened her mouth and sounded like, say, Joanna Newsom (who, full disclosure, I cannot stand as a singer)? Conversely, if Joanna Newsom looked like Susan Boyle, would she be as lauded and praised as she is? (Second point of disclosure: I actually really like Newsom's songs, but not her singing them).

This, my friends, is all about optics (my favorite buzz word du jour) -- how it looks for the camera.

Our reaction to Susan just makes me sad. And though I am certain that her experience was amazing and uplifting and I don't look to take that away from her, I do want to grab all my friends who are falling for this by the shoulders and shake some sense into them.

Susan Boyle's story was fabricated for you by a bunch of producers who think you are a sucker. And guess what? You are.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Assignment 3a


Photo courtesy of majunznk via Flickr and Creative Commons

We’ve had this debate going on for a while, my journalism professor and I, on what the definition of journalism is.

Unlike the majority of my classmates, I am not a journalism major. I study this strange hybrid field of humanities and social sciences referred to as American Studies at a different school. There are a lot of things an American Studies major can focus on and I chose to go with the closest thing I could cobble together that seemed like a media studies program in a communications school.

Now, in my last semester, it is clear to me that my focus has been what they call “cultural studies” – a field that, in no shortage of "American Studies" irony to me – is populated with theorists who are predominantly German (Benjamin, Horkheimer, Adorno), British (Stuart Hall), or French (oh Foucault, we cannot escape you even when we try).

So I don’t come to the table as a journalism student, but someone who instead has an immense respect for journalisms’ role in democracy. (Us American Studies majors all tend to spend a lot of time thinking and writing about democracy). And I am versed in the negative impact that free-market theory has had on the news industry in America. Despite the immense promise of the Internet for providing new sources of news and information, 40% of the people in this country do not have access to high-speed Internet. And those divisions largely fall along racial and class lines. Today’s Internet doesn’t run on dial-up. (If you don't believe me, watch this video).

The majority of people are still getting their news and information from “traditional” sources – like newspapers, television, and radio. The same sources that are predominantly controlled by the same six companies across the board. What we need most is a diversity of perspectives and boots on the ground reporting on what is happening in local communities. What we’ve got are behemoths like Clear Channel and Tribune who have gotten so big through decades of deregulation in Washington.

The commercial media industry’s deep pockets have continued to buy off policy makers, while the rest of us have to suffer through syndicated drivel in the form of talk radio and reality television. The reason? Because paying for reporters is expensive. And these companies don’t feel they have a responsibility to the public interest. Their responsibility is to their shareholders. Why pay for journalism when you can get a part-time critic to talk about the latest microbrews on tap at the hipster bar?

Which brings me back to the debate at hand: what is journalism? Note that the question is not “who is a journalist?” as I think that is an entirely different issue and at this moment in time it is a moving target. But our disagreement on “what is journalism” appears to center around a fundamental disconnect between the ideas of critique and commentary and reporting and information.

Journalism is about accountability. And we are experiencing first hand the results of a press who does not perceive their responsibility to be asking tough questions to those in power. What has our press been doing when we’ve needed it most?

But coming back to our classroom debates, I can boil this down to a simple question. Can someone to explain to me how a restaurant or music or book review is journalism? There is a stark difference between reading about how the mashed potatoes made someone feel and a report about where the potatoes are coming from and how a new tax is impacting the restaurant expenses and forcing it switch to a new provider for potatoes. One tells me where to have dinner, the other helps me understand critical issues relating to government, commerce, and community.

It’s not that I don’t value a good review, and it’s certainly not that I don’t understand how they impact our understanding of the world around us. I love music, culture, satire, and all the nuanced splendor that makes the American experience so messy and complex. But I’m not foolish enough to claim that my opinion about the new Animal Collective disc is journalism. I wouldn’t call this blog entry journalism. In fact, I produce a weekly radio show that has national syndication and features stories about public policy and activism and I wouldn’t call that journalism either. Journalism is where the hard questions get asked. It’s how we keep powerful entities in check. It is the Fourth Estate. And this is the reason that it is a profession protected by the Constitution.

So what gives, people? You are all students of journalism, you are privy to details that I know nothing about and a history that I have only scratched the surface of. Someone tell me where the line was crossed? At what point did we just start deeming everything that was published in a newspaper as journalism?

Next thing you know someone is going to start telling me that advertising is journalism.
Or horoscopes.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

The Host


Photo courtesy of danicamarica via Flickr and Creative Commons
In her 2004 piece on “the American imagination” and radio, Susan Douglas writes about the particularly personal relationship that radio listeners have had with the medium throughout the 20th century. “Radio kneaded our psyches early on and helped shape our desires, our fantasies, our images of the outside world, our very imaginations. Unlike other major technologies…radio has worked powerfully inside our heads, helping us create internal maps of the world and our place in it, urging us to construct imagined communities to which we do, or do not, belong.”

What Douglas suggests is that there is something particularly invasive and simultaneously personal about the medium. The illusion experienced by the listener is that you may be the only one (an image reinforced by numerous romanticized narratives about radio, such as the classic movie Pump Up the Volume which features the voice of a young Christian Slater beaming into the minds and hearts of a Gen X audience searching for meaning). And even though the voice on the other end may be consciously aware that they are speaking to an audience, there is a loneliness and uncertainty to that very concept.

Commercial talk radio, unlike the pre-1980s radio Douglas describes or the pirate radio Slater’s character is operating, is a beast whose primary aim is profit. However instead of pure entertainment, something that obviously conveys to listeners an objective of sensationalism in exchange for ad revenue, contemporary talk radio occupies that space which David Foster Wallace refers to as the “meta-media” or “explaining industry.”
Under most classifications, this category includes media critics for news dailies, certain high-end magazines, panel shows like CNN's Reliable Sources, media-watch blogs like instapundit.com and talkingpointsmemo.com, and a large percentage of political talk radio. …this is how much of contemporary political talk radio understands its function: to explore the day's news in a depth and detail that other media do not, and to interpret, analyze, and explain that news.
Wallace’s brilliantly crafted essay on talk radio host John Ziegler stitches together the complex landscape in which this brash, unapologetic, and essentially predictable personality operates. His claim that talk radio is “a frightening industry, though not for any of the simple reasons most critics give,” is elegantly explored through a framework that touches upon big issues such as public policy, commercial practices, race relations while simultaneously weaving in the heavy influences of individual personalities and interpersonal relationships.

Ultimately Wallace makes many of the points I have found myself repeating – although he makes them far more elegantly than I ever could – about whether or not talk radio is journalism. “The fact of the matter is that it is not John Ziegler's job to be responsible, or nuanced, or to think about whether his on-air comments are productive or dangerous, or cogent, or even defensible.”

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

The most comments I ever got on Facebook ever.

I meant to post about this a few weeks ago when I did it, but something fascinating happened when I posted a simple question to my Facebook profile in the form of a "note."

A bizarre chain of discussions surrounding the "double space" has prompted me to inquire further. Here's the question: do you put two spaces after a sentence ends when you are typing? What is the standard?

Some say yes, some say no. I want proof. Give me citations. Chicago, MLA, AP style, tell me what you know.
I "tagged" about twenty people in the note who work across a variety of fields: journalists, copy-editors, professors, poets, administrative assistants, college students, the list goes on. It was like opening a floodgate. A remarkable twenty-one responses came in within a little more than twenty-four hours. People were unbelievably passionate about the debate. And I will tell you that there is absolutely no agreement on the subject. I myself am sticking with the double-space.

But I did have fun tagging one of my bosses at work who vehemently disagrees with me. To the point that he recently removed every double space in a piece that I sent his way. (Which is actually what prompted me to post the question in the first place). I told him that I was now "crowdsourcing" grammar and style. It's the wave of the future...

Here are some of the best replies...

Aaron:
One thing I find interesting though is that often my extra spaces are removed automatically. Such is the case in the comments I'm posting right here. Facebook apparently disagrees with my assessment.

I find this highly annoying. I believe that formatting greatly affects the power of written communication. Therefore, every effort should be made to preserve the formatting choices of the author, regardless of medium and venue. Furthermore, I think any website offering space for written publication (like this one) should necessarily include functionality for standard formatting options such as bold and italic, which is quite simple in the age of html.

As it stands now, we never know which sites are going to recognize our html formatting and which ones won't. So often times we look like idiots for writing something like this....
Ashley:
if you're writing a paper for school, two spaces. if you're writing anything else in the whole world, one space. i'm a goddamn copy editor. xo
Jennifer:
I was always told that in publishing and journalism it is one space to not take up much needed characters and space with excess space. I know in texting everyone seems to be moving to the single space to avoid using up characters. But for proper letters and clarity I find the two space much needed.


Craig:
One space. One space. One space. It's the 21st century. And yet I still capitalize Web. ... (Don't get me started on the proper spacing around ellipses.)


Fred:
Pick up any contemporary book -- I just glanced at The Omnivore's Dilemma -- and you'll find a single space after the period. To my eye, the additional bit of space looks funny. (And I was taught to type in the 80s on an actual typewriter when the two-space rule was still very much in effect. It was only years later that I actually looked at how it... Read More was done in well-designed books and magazines that I decided to forgo the additional space. In short, I trust the designers of contemporary books and magazines more than my crusty old typing teacher.)

If nothing else, I like to believe that all those saved spaces are forestalling the onset of carpal tunnel.


The call-in assignment...


Jean-Luc Cornec's sheep phones courtesy of temp13rec via Flickr and Creative Commons

Okay. The radio assignment.

I tried. I did try. I spent a good 45 minutes listening to the Thom Hartmann show on WHMP. I caught him with a guest who was talking about global economics and as interesting as the topic was I didn't really have anything to contribute. So I waited for a new guest. And on came some woman who had written a book about whiteness and race and I thought to myself, "okay, this I can handle. I will call and ask a question about those people who believe that racism is now over in America because we elected Obama over McCain." (In case you are wondering, I think that people who believe that are incredibly unaware of racial issues in America and the reductive ignorance of a statement like that pretty much terrifies me).

So I dialed. And I was expecting to be put on hold or to reach an automated "press one for live questions" menu. Instead, a woman answered the phone directly. And then my brain and mouth launched into a debate with each other. Uh, why am I doing this? What is the point of my call? Do I care more about getting a good grade on this assignment or about making a valuable contribution to this conversation?

Instead of asking her if I could go on the air, I asked her if the show was pre-recorded or live. (Honestly, I was curious). She said it was always live. I paused for a moment and considered my options. And then I thanked her and hung up the phone.

I will be the first to admit that there's a lot of irony to my reaction. I can elaborate on this more in class, but suffice it to say that I've got a long history with radio and spend a lot of my time preaching the greatness of it as a medium. And don't get me wrong, I still think radio is amazing. Radio is one of the best communication tools we have -- it is a one-time investment that can keep us connected to news and culture with no additional cost. But as I sat on the phone with the woman who answered my call I realized that the entire root of my motivation was this assignment. I didn't want to ask a question just for the sake of doing it. I was just going through the motions. And that sort of empty interaction is not going to elevate the discourse on anything. So I hung up.

I've decided to take this assignment in stride as a sort of conscientious objector. Now don't get me wrong, had I taken the time to consume talk radio non-stop for the past few weeks I am absolutely positive I could have found a discussion going on that I actually wanted to participate in. And for that, I recognize that the reason I was unable to really complete the assignment is partially based on poor time management. (In all honesty, my thesis is due in ten days and I work about 50 hours a week on top of taking this class…excuses, excuses, I know). But after going through the forced motions of the LTE assignment, I just couldn't bring myself to do it again.

So let me instead close by going into some detail about why I think elevating the discourse is important enough for me to refuse to complete the assignment. I considered calling in to a program that played music to sound off about the host’s choices. But as I pointed out in my last post, that is not journalism. That’s cultural critique, it’s opinion, but it’s not reporting. My opinion on whether the music is any good, or on the things one should consider before adopting a pet from the pound (another fabulous program running on AM talk radio this morning), or even me calling in to Rush’s show to tell him that I can’t stand him and feel he is a symbol for everything that is wrong with America today – none of it is journalism.

If we re-frame this class as one on the role of interactivity in an emerging digital media space and its impact on culture, politics, and democracy then I would have a completely different take on this entire thing. Because all of these elements, from LTEs to talk radio to restaurant reviews to Twitter are all impacting culture, politics, and democracy. But that doesn’t mean they are journalism. And framing it that way has me asking the following: at what point did the lines completely blur between reporting and commentary?

I’m the first to say that when dealing in definitions about journalists and journalism we are confronting an important issue that is both nuanced and complex. This whole landscape of “citizen journalism” (a term that is immensely problematic) directly challenges a lot of the established and accepted definitions of what defines a journalist.

But that’s exactly it. I don’t know if the definition of a journalist is necessarily as important as the definition of journalism.

Talk Radio, part II. (play vs film)


Photo courtesy of kiddharma via Flickr and Creative Commons


Scott and I got into a fun little debate over Bogosian's Talk Radio last week. Since he has asked us to post a blog comparing the play and the film, I am copping out slightly by re-posting my most recent response to our conversation (which covers my thoughts on the comparison). The only thing I have to add that is not included below is that I think Eric Bogosian might actually secretly be Anthony Bourdain. Anyone else see the similarity?

Back to the matters at hand. Here is my latest rant. Feel free to join in...

I'm not arguing against talk radio as an institution for meaning-making. On that nice, academic scaffolding we can legitimize talk radio's existence. But I wouldn't make the argument that talk radio is journalism. Or, to be fair, not the talk radio featured in the play. Sounding off is not journalism. Sounding off is entertainment. Journalism holds those in power accountable. I'm not arguing that talk radio can't. I would argue that Bogosian's macho-rebellious cool cat is off on a personal philosophic journey. It has value, but it's not journalism.

Talk radio, as we know it today, has its own sordid history in the United States. Bogosian may have written the play in mid-1980s, but being just a young toddler myself in the grand decade of neon and new wave, all I can really hear is a Rush Limbaugh or a Sean Hannity. And though the rise of the right-wing conservative talk radio is often related to the repeal of the Fairness Doctrine, it was really the 1996 Telecommunications Act -- which repealed ownership limits on radio stations -- that turned the local downtown station into a repeater tower for the nationally syndicated ideology of the right-wing. Which returns me to the whole idea of gatekeeping and meaning-making. It was pretty easy for U.S. politics to turn to the right when talking heads who were cheaper to syndicate than paying for local reporters and investigative journalism.

After watching the film (and I presume that Bogosian oversaw screenplay and had his hand in direction as well) it just becomes more clear that this is about the one-man's libertarian journey for meaning and not about the institution itself.

And fun as it is, it sure ain't about journalism...