Doug Frantz, an LA Times editor, recently killed an A1 story about the Armenian genocide on the basis that the reporter was Armenian American and thus had a conflict of interest with the subject. The writer, Mark Arax, says that no factual errors or glaring imbalances could be found in his story, and he believes that Frantz killed the story because of an allegiance to Turkey, where Frantz had live and worked as a journalist for many years. As much as Frantz’s accusation of inherent bias seems unfounded, it’s terribly unsurprising.
It’s not quite as absurd as having a debate about whether the slaughter of one million Armenians was really “genocide,” but it is a logos I see cropping up a lot lately: connections between subject and reporter automatically mean “conflict of interest.” OK, let’s play Frantz for a while: "No Armenian American reporter shall report on events related to Armenia. No American Indian reporter shall report on issues related to American Indians. No African American woman shall report on issues related to either African American females or female African citizens.. No one with a criminal background shall cover cops or courts." See where this leads us?
Deities forbid we run a story written by someone who has a lifetime of experience with the subject. No, then the writing would have an attitude. Attitude? Perspective? For shame!
Of course there are genuine cases of conflicts of interest – covering your sister’s killer’s murder trial, covering the city council when your dad is the mayor, etc – but I struggle to imagine a case in which such a conflict would arise from ethnicity (or gender, or race, or socio-economic status, or religion.) It’s more dangerous in fact to assign someone with seemingly no connection to the subject, because it allows that reporter’s bias go unchecked – She’s not Armenian or Turkish, so she can’t have a political agenda... The success (in ratings, if not in real journalism) of Fox News can be linked to the public’s craving for news with attitude. There’s nothing wrong with smart reporting that has an attitude – as long as it is disclosed. (Fox’s problem is that the journalists have to be smart and they have to recognize and embrace their attitudes as such, not ignore them or pretend they are “fair, balanced.” )
Friday, April 27, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
My plight, your headlines.
Columnists around the country are firing off scathing commentaries about the Don Imus debacle this week, many focusing on the now former radio host’s choice of phrasing. Imus sealed his fate in three words—“nappy-headed hos”—and critics are quick to point out how these terms are degrading and insulting to African Americans and women. Certainly, it is discomforting to encounter such outright ignorance coming from a man whose radio show reaches millions of people, and firing Imus was really MSNBC’s only option (I’m just amazed it hadn’t happened sooner, as this was not Imus’s first racist-sexist slur). What is more discomforting is how the mainstream media has missed the mark in reporting the events. They are quick to attack language, but doing so is about as effective as trying to uproot a tree by pulling at its leaves.
The fact is (listen up, mainstream media), the Rutgers women’s basketball team has never had so much coverage in any season as they’ve had in this one. Suddenly, you, yes, you CNN, adopt these women to glorify your own outlet’s good judgment, its political correctness, its lack of racism or sexism or some other -ism. How many stories have you run, New York Times, L.A. Times, Kansas City Star, on black female basketball teams in the past? How many stories have you run on white male basketball teams in the past? Now compare how big those stories are, where they’re placed on the page and how many photos they have. See what I’m getting at here?
The media can clean up its language, avoid stereotypes, generally make sure not to step on anyone’s toes, and they can slam racists and sexists for being so, but acting horrified by the words keeps the focus on the oppressor, not the oppressed. It pretends that the oppressed are liberated. The media’s reaction in this case has helped to get Imus fired, and for that we should be grateful, but the attacks on his statement have further exploited women and minorities to mask the iniquities of every other day’s news. Racists like Imus are low-hanging (rotten) fruit: For just a moment, they give the oppressed and the liberated a common enemy. The liberated defend the oppressed, like a big brother’s gang swarming around a playground bully. The bully is silenced, and big brother and co. return to their side to congratulate themselves on being so good-natured.
As a woman, I would like to say to the big brothers CNN, Fox, AP, et al, on behalf of all women: Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not your damsel. My plight is not yours to share in.
The fact is (listen up, mainstream media), the Rutgers women’s basketball team has never had so much coverage in any season as they’ve had in this one. Suddenly, you, yes, you CNN, adopt these women to glorify your own outlet’s good judgment, its political correctness, its lack of racism or sexism or some other -ism. How many stories have you run, New York Times, L.A. Times, Kansas City Star, on black female basketball teams in the past? How many stories have you run on white male basketball teams in the past? Now compare how big those stories are, where they’re placed on the page and how many photos they have. See what I’m getting at here?
The media can clean up its language, avoid stereotypes, generally make sure not to step on anyone’s toes, and they can slam racists and sexists for being so, but acting horrified by the words keeps the focus on the oppressor, not the oppressed. It pretends that the oppressed are liberated. The media’s reaction in this case has helped to get Imus fired, and for that we should be grateful, but the attacks on his statement have further exploited women and minorities to mask the iniquities of every other day’s news. Racists like Imus are low-hanging (rotten) fruit: For just a moment, they give the oppressed and the liberated a common enemy. The liberated defend the oppressed, like a big brother’s gang swarming around a playground bully. The bully is silenced, and big brother and co. return to their side to congratulate themselves on being so good-natured.
As a woman, I would like to say to the big brothers CNN, Fox, AP, et al, on behalf of all women: Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not your damsel. My plight is not yours to share in.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The Death of Satire
It’s not that we’re too politically correct for satire these days; it’s just that no one knows how to do it right. We’ve infused irony into everyday media experience, detaching ourselves from the genuine and blurring the line between the beautiful and the kitsch. Recent successes of “The Daily Show,” “The Colbert Report” and the film “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan” illustrate the power of irony in a modern context: Straight political commentary too often falls on deaf ears, but political satire can be a hit. The key to a satire is its tone—a delicate balance of perspective, context, diction, and absurdity. TV and film have far more tools (i.e. mood music, setting, costuming and body language) than print. We have words. And far too few writers know how to use them.
It’s not to say that a writer should hide within the safe borders of social convention—in fact the minute we stop trying to push our readers is the moment we become useless. But the thing about pushing the envelope is that is has to be new and engaging. Too often, a writer will merely transgress common decency, as one opinion writer from Central Connecticut State University did recently when the student newspaper, The Recorder, printed his commentary on what he describes as the sociological benefits of rape.
http://www.courant.com/news/local/hc-nebccsu0209.artfeb09,0,4411698.story?coll=hc-headlines-local
The editorial staff at The Recorder defended the piece as a “satirical jab at the sensationalistic nature of the modern news media,” as the Courant reported the story I found on Romenesko this week.
Even though the article was repulsive, it’s not necessarily because of what it was trying to do. It would take an incredibly skilled writer to make a satire of rape—and I mean Jonathan Swift meets Ambrose Bierce meets Oscar Wilde kind of good. No topic is ever out of bounds, thank you First Amendment, but as readers we get to decide what works and what doesn’t. As over-stimulated and desensitized as we may be, we’re not so dense as to mistake bigotry for irony: We know the difference, for example, between political humor aimed at religious extremism, and political cartoons that portray a sacred Muslim icon as a terrorist.
What makes Swift’s invocation of cannibalism brilliant is the genuine social message underlying it. The absurdity of his “modest proposal” matches the real absurdity of the state’s indifference to the suffering of the poor. The essential problem with The Recorder’s opinion piece (and countless other failed attempts at satire in print) is that it had nothing driving the surface of the message, no heart, no cause, and definitely no intellect.
The president of the university said in the Courant article that the commentary had crossed the lines of journalistic freedom. Now, to be fair, the piece crossed many lines, but the one it didn’t cross was that of journalistic freedom (he only gave it a bad name). He should lose his job for being an idiot but not for publishing his work. He should be socially chastised for his bigotry, but the newspaper and journalistic freedom aren’t going down with him. The only winner in this entire situation is journalism, if only because its freedom kept this writer from getting away with his own ignorance. Next time, he’ll know better.
It’s not to say that a writer should hide within the safe borders of social convention—in fact the minute we stop trying to push our readers is the moment we become useless. But the thing about pushing the envelope is that is has to be new and engaging. Too often, a writer will merely transgress common decency, as one opinion writer from Central Connecticut State University did recently when the student newspaper, The Recorder, printed his commentary on what he describes as the sociological benefits of rape.
http://www.courant.com/news/local/hc-nebccsu0209.artfeb09,0,4411698.story?coll=hc-headlines-local
The editorial staff at The Recorder defended the piece as a “satirical jab at the sensationalistic nature of the modern news media,” as the Courant reported the story I found on Romenesko this week.
Even though the article was repulsive, it’s not necessarily because of what it was trying to do. It would take an incredibly skilled writer to make a satire of rape—and I mean Jonathan Swift meets Ambrose Bierce meets Oscar Wilde kind of good. No topic is ever out of bounds, thank you First Amendment, but as readers we get to decide what works and what doesn’t. As over-stimulated and desensitized as we may be, we’re not so dense as to mistake bigotry for irony: We know the difference, for example, between political humor aimed at religious extremism, and political cartoons that portray a sacred Muslim icon as a terrorist.
What makes Swift’s invocation of cannibalism brilliant is the genuine social message underlying it. The absurdity of his “modest proposal” matches the real absurdity of the state’s indifference to the suffering of the poor. The essential problem with The Recorder’s opinion piece (and countless other failed attempts at satire in print) is that it had nothing driving the surface of the message, no heart, no cause, and definitely no intellect.
The president of the university said in the Courant article that the commentary had crossed the lines of journalistic freedom. Now, to be fair, the piece crossed many lines, but the one it didn’t cross was that of journalistic freedom (he only gave it a bad name). He should lose his job for being an idiot but not for publishing his work. He should be socially chastised for his bigotry, but the newspaper and journalistic freedom aren’t going down with him. The only winner in this entire situation is journalism, if only because its freedom kept this writer from getting away with his own ignorance. Next time, he’ll know better.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Rip the Band-Aid off.
(Capstone essay, written Jan. 2007)
Our business has one overarching principle that is not to be trifled with: Inform citizens. A naïve or misinformed citizenry cripples a democracy. Yet in the increasingly sanitized news industry, journalists are being told that some realities are just too real.
The New York Times was recently berated by the military for publishing a photograph and videotape of a soldier dying in Iraq. The images upset the soldier’s family and incensed the Army, which said the images were released without official consent. According to the story the Times ran with the photo last week, the soldier was shot in the head during a patrol on Haifa Street in Baghdad. The photo of the soldier showed a medic attending to his head wound, at which point the soldier was still alive; the story said he died later in the day. A five-minute video of the shooting went on the Times Web site.
I’ve followed the case on Romenesko, and the issue of “propriety” in war coverage is at the heart of the debate. Was it appropriate for the NYT to shock its kind, unscathed readers by accurately reporting a man’s death? What was the NYT showing its readers that U.S. troops haven’t seen on a daily basis for the past four years? Certainly, we don’t want to disgust our readers every day, but our primary obligation does not include protecting them from feeling sad or upset. Withholding these stories infantilizes the readers.
Maybe I’m a zealot; the conservative pundits would brand me an “activist, loose constructionist editor,” but frankly, if we’re going to inform our citizens about a war (or an election, or a trial, or a city council meeting) we have to do it with a “rip the Band-Aid off fast” strategy. The wars our country fights are not fought on American ground. We don’t have to see the carnage. But we should. It’s easy to forget the war is even happening with the rosy picture the government describes.
The Houston Chronicle story on Romenesko quoted Tom Rosenstiel on the subject: “‘The fact that a photograph upset people, even family members, is not always sufficient reason not to run it,’ Rosenstiel said. ‘Editors may decide that there is a compelling public interest in running a photograph precisely because it does upset an audience.’”
The problem of timid journalists ultimately boils down to the way media is treated as a commodity instead of a public service. We’ve coddled our audience, made them like us so they keep coming back to us, and we make money, and our advertisers make money, and our owners make lots of money, and everyone loses some knowledge and democracy loses its spark. ‘Don’t publish that story, it makes [the government/the army/the company who owns this paper] look bad. People don’t want the news to depress them, print something less sad.’
Our business has one overarching principle that is not to be trifled with: Inform citizens. A naïve or misinformed citizenry cripples a democracy. Yet in the increasingly sanitized news industry, journalists are being told that some realities are just too real.
The New York Times was recently berated by the military for publishing a photograph and videotape of a soldier dying in Iraq. The images upset the soldier’s family and incensed the Army, which said the images were released without official consent. According to the story the Times ran with the photo last week, the soldier was shot in the head during a patrol on Haifa Street in Baghdad. The photo of the soldier showed a medic attending to his head wound, at which point the soldier was still alive; the story said he died later in the day. A five-minute video of the shooting went on the Times Web site.
I’ve followed the case on Romenesko, and the issue of “propriety” in war coverage is at the heart of the debate. Was it appropriate for the NYT to shock its kind, unscathed readers by accurately reporting a man’s death? What was the NYT showing its readers that U.S. troops haven’t seen on a daily basis for the past four years? Certainly, we don’t want to disgust our readers every day, but our primary obligation does not include protecting them from feeling sad or upset. Withholding these stories infantilizes the readers.
Maybe I’m a zealot; the conservative pundits would brand me an “activist, loose constructionist editor,” but frankly, if we’re going to inform our citizens about a war (or an election, or a trial, or a city council meeting) we have to do it with a “rip the Band-Aid off fast” strategy. The wars our country fights are not fought on American ground. We don’t have to see the carnage. But we should. It’s easy to forget the war is even happening with the rosy picture the government describes.
The Houston Chronicle story on Romenesko quoted Tom Rosenstiel on the subject: “‘The fact that a photograph upset people, even family members, is not always sufficient reason not to run it,’ Rosenstiel said. ‘Editors may decide that there is a compelling public interest in running a photograph precisely because it does upset an audience.’”
The problem of timid journalists ultimately boils down to the way media is treated as a commodity instead of a public service. We’ve coddled our audience, made them like us so they keep coming back to us, and we make money, and our advertisers make money, and our owners make lots of money, and everyone loses some knowledge and democracy loses its spark. ‘Don’t publish that story, it makes [the government/the army/the company who owns this paper] look bad. People don’t want the news to depress them, print something less sad.’
welcome to the allisonmorrowdotcom
My previous blogging efforts have centered on travel adventures, but my passport's been resting on my bookshelf for months now, so I'm taking this blog in a new direction. Basically, this is where I'm going to write editorials about the journalism industry. I have a weekly writing assignment for my journalism Capstone (MU's senior thesis class), and those will make up most of the entries, at least initially.
Turns out, print is dying. I'm about to enter a field that is scrambling to get ahead of the online push, and the mantra I'm hearing from the J-school is "converge or die." Several friends in the industry have said that newspaper staffers are now expected to blog for the paper -- writing about the industry, ethics, experiences in the newsroom, etc. I can't say I'm thrilled about the way things appear to be changing; there's a lot of uncertainty about where newspapers are going, and it seems that I'll see the medium die within my lifetime. But let's not get too bleak. My J-school class is a smart group, and we're coming into the industry at a great time to save it.
Turns out, print is dying. I'm about to enter a field that is scrambling to get ahead of the online push, and the mantra I'm hearing from the J-school is "converge or die." Several friends in the industry have said that newspaper staffers are now expected to blog for the paper -- writing about the industry, ethics, experiences in the newsroom, etc. I can't say I'm thrilled about the way things appear to be changing; there's a lot of uncertainty about where newspapers are going, and it seems that I'll see the medium die within my lifetime. But let's not get too bleak. My J-school class is a smart group, and we're coming into the industry at a great time to save it.
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