agit-Brit-prop

Most propaganda is designed to incite or excite, to inspire action for what is hoped to be a winning cause. The grave images of Lord Kitchener and Uncle Sam stir something deep within us so that we would stand and fight for our country; other propaganda posters of the World War period use fear as a motivator — phrases like “Loose Lips Sink Ships” and “He Talked!” speak to the vital need to protect information. It is the rare case, however, that a government propaganda poster would be developed to prepare citizens for the unthinkable; that their country would be invaded and ruled by a foreign power.

“Keep Calm and Carry On.” These are the words on a deceivingly simple poster produced by the British government during World War II. The poster was meant to be distributed and posted in the event that Nazi Germany had successfully invaded England. I confess that it is only recently that this poster has been brought to my attention; my colleagues in the Newhouse Reading Room expressed incredulity at this, but also understood that I am not one to keep up on trends.

Apparently the poster and the phrase are so popular that they have inspired countless knockoffs: “Now Panic and Freak Out,” “Keep Calm and Have a Cupcake,” and “Get Excited and Make Things” are just a few of the takeoff phrases. The original poster design itself appears on coffee mugs, t-shirts and even doormats. The folks at Barter Books, who originally “rediscovered” a print of the poster, are no doubt making a pretty pence on merchandise and reprints of the poster, which, by the way, according to British Law, is in the public domain and no longer subject to copyright.

At first glance, the message is all British. Most of the articles regarding the poster speak to how elegantly it captures the “stiff upper lip” that the British are supposedly so well known for. Indeed, the design is simple and elegant: all centered, no extraneous graphics or framing, and headed by an easily distinguishable crown of King George VI, surely a symbol of rightness and order in a time of threatening Nazi extremism. The typeface is uniquely English as well. Some suggest that the poster was hand-lettered, and not set with a specific type. The closest match that is readily available to most of us is Gill Sans, a font commonly found in many versions of Microsoft Word.

But there’s something else to this poster, beyond the famous reputation of the English to “muddle through.” The poster is red. It is a warning signal, designed to visually complement what every Briton would already know, that their country was under siege. It is also, however, a warning to the invaders. The white text may be literally calming to the British people, but the red background is a big “fuck you” to Nazi barbarism. The poster’s simple combination of a soothing message and agitating color creates a uniquely complex piece of propaganda. Surely the poster’s makers must have known that most of them would be torn down or defaced by German soldiers, but that is the whole point. The poster would not necessarily enrage German authorities, but their act of tearing the posters down would expose the weakness of their position; that their allegiance was to paranoiac, murderous regime, and not a civil one based on rights and the rule of law. In this way, the poster perfectly demonstrates how Britain mixed admirable civility with steely resolve in the face of a feared, and fearful, enemy.

Them Media

As many of you know, I am studying media.  I am studying media because I decided quite some time ago that I didn’t particularly like it.  I’m inclined to get angry at things I don’t like, and one of the ways to dissipate that anger is put the object of my ire at an anthropological or sociological remove and examine it, to figure out how and why it makes me (and others) angry.

One of the things I’ve learned about media can be expressed by a slight alteration of Pogo (who altered it from Commodore Perry):  We have met the media, and they are us.

This means that all of us are ultimately responsible for the media that we get.

This week Syracuse University is remembering the twentieth anniversary of the bombing of Pan Am flight 103 and the thirty five students it lost that day.  Today I attended a panel discussion at the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs on accountability, prevention of future terrorist attacks and the media’s role.  The talk inevitably came to a criticism of the media.  A retired chaplain who presided over services at Hendricks Chapel the night of the tragedy complained of the circus created by reporters and photographers, who moved their equipment into the chapel “as if they owned the event.”  A story was told of a mother who, after falling to her knees at Kennedy Airport upon hearing of the loss of her son, was instantly surrounded by video cameras and photographers who recorded her grief but were seemingly insensitive to her pain.

But panelist Robert Monetti, father of Pan Am 103 victim Richard Monetti, pointed out that the media could also be a strong ally and even an advocate for the families of victims, who faced further hardships in dealing with Pan Am and the United States government long after the bombing.  Mr. Monetti’s advice:  choose wisely who you speak to in the media.  Take the time to develop relationships with those in the media you trust, and trust only them with your story.

This is everyone’s responsibility, whether we choose to accept it or not.  The media as we know it in today’s society have a great deal of power, and they have their share of incompetent practitioners and bad actors who will abuse that power.  Just like any other profession.  (“I’ve met some lawyers whom I was just as upset with,” Mr. Monetti joked.)

The power of the media, however, rests in their understanding that we will do what they tell us to do.

Will the media tell our stories?  Yes.  In today’s society this is how we communicate – on the television, in the newspapers, on the Internet.  We no longer tell our stories of tragedy and joy around the campfire.  They are communicated, for better or worse, mostly electronically, through the global village.  The power of the media comes from their understanding that they are telling our stories the way they think we want them told.  But if they understand that we want our stories told our way, then we will no longer serve the media; the media will serve us.

Costas: Quality Will Always Matter

Props to Bob Costas, who answered questions from students at Syracuse University’s Newhouse School of Communication for two hours yesterday.

We could stand a few more broadcasters like him.  After thoughtful and considerate insight on issues stemming from the broadcast of the Olympics in China, he took on issues in journalism as well, calling for an attempt at more reasoned discourse by asking both media and media audiences to take responsibility for the product produced and the product consumed.  In talking about the changing landscape of journalism in the age of the internet, Mr. Costas pointed out that the legitimacy of a blogger or journalist was predicated not necessarily on their credentials or lack thereof, but more on the quality of their work.  A journalist is theoretically accountable to newspaper editors and publishers; a blogger is not necessarily so, and therefore bears more responsibility to ensure that his product will be truthful and fair.

Mr. Costas won’t blame technology for deterioration of discourse in society.  Instead he called on journalists and newspapers to compete with internet threats to their business by simply producing a better product, and holding themselves accountable for it.  He sharply criticized the practice of newspaper (and blog) websites who provide “comment” forums that purport to give ordinary citizens a place for open, democratic debate today, comparing it to what might happen if he finished a broadcast by leaving the microphone on his chair and letting whoever could “rush the stage” speak their mind.  To Mr. Costas, these forums only facilitate the exercise of the most common, base and sometimes hateful speech.  “Calling someone an asshole is not an argument,” he said.  “Using reason, logic, and respectful discourse is an argument.”

He finished with reminiscences of sports broadcasters he had admired early in his career:  “Most of the commentary back then came from people who had read a book, and I’m not talking about the media guide.”  Sure, there are broadcasters with those qualities in today’s media environment, but it calls to mind some footage I had seen of David Brinkley at the 1968 Democratic convention: even as riots were progressing in the streets and the nation was clearly in turmoil, he maintained a cool, intelligent eloquence in his words and his delivery.

“Quality will always matter,” Mr. Costas said as he closed.  Quality broadcasters will always matter too.

Truth

Okay, people in the media and those in the public eye: the rule of thumb for anyone who finds themselves with a microphone in front of them or attached to them should be to always assume that it’s on, and that it’s feeding a recording device of some kind or another.

Last week, Wall Street Journal columnist Peggy Noonan was the latest public figure to encounter the embarrassment of The Open Mic.  The Open Mic occurs whenever a microphone in a television studio, a boardroom, or on a conference table is left on and connected to a recording device at a period of time during which the person in front of or near the microphone would expect that his or her comments were private and not recorded.  The Open Mic caught George Bush at the G-8 Summit two years ago, when he was heard to suggest to British Prime Minister Tony Blair that the U.N.’s approach to stabilizing the situation between Israel and Hezbollah should be to “get Syria, to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit.”

While this drew knowing chortles of contempt from most Bush critics, it seemed to convey an essential truth about Bush’s view of the situation, which may have been simplistic but at least was unambiguous.  On the other hand, the context of the entire conversation (and conversations before and after) was missing.  Then there was the obvious question of what exactly Mr. Bush might have meant by “shit.”  We don’t know, because he didn’t exactly give a televised address to the nation to (as we’re saying in communication classes here at Syracuse University) “explicate the concept.”

We are quick to jump to conclusions when it comes to our media, authorized or no.  Much was made of Ms. Noonan appearing to say one thing candidly and then contradict herself in her next day’s column.  Her post-firestorm explanation that she attached to the column on the Wall Street Journal website was good enough for me, but that’s because I like her.  “It’s OVER” didn’t mean that she felt the McCain candidacy was dead, but rather that the line of thinking where Republicans assume that its base shares opinions with mainstream American should stop.  Sounds a bit convoluted, I admit, but if you read her column regularly, then read her explanation, it makes sense.

What she seems to find difficult to defend is the use of the word “bullshit,” which describes what she thinks of “political narratives.”  Who among us wouldn’t agree?  The fact is, political narratives are an essential part of elections and always will be, and I would suggest that we perhaps need and want those narratives in order to best make sense of a candidate’s platform.  Ms. Noonan uses the word “bullshit” to indicate her disdain of the tactic; Mike Murphy is the one who calls the choice “cynical.”  At least Ms. Noonan attempts to explicate her concept of bullshit.

Does Ms. Noonan think Sarah Palin is the “most qualified” candidate for V.P.?  Evidently not.  Does she exactly sing Ms. Palin’s praises in her column?  Calling the pick a “Hail Mary” pass is not complimentary.  “Hail Mary” passes are not the most high percentage plays in football.  Ms. Noonan even questions Ms. Palin’s experience when it comes to dealing with the brutal public arena of high stakes politics.

So what was all the hubbub about?

Partisans seeking advantage, I don’t know.  Perhaps I just have too big of a sense of fairness.  Perhaps it’s because I have an understanding of the way television studios and microphones and recording equipment work that I know just how out of context these recordings can be taken.  The camera, or in this case, microphone, does lie.  All the bloggers in the world can speculate on how well these kinds of snippets convey truth, but in reality, they do not, and cannot.

Stuff

One thing that moving does is make you question why you own things.

I used to own a beer bottle that had some significance or other to me.  I kept it for a few years, moved it from house to house, and I’ll be damned if I can remember specifically what its meaning was.  I want to say it was the first beer I had with the “elders” of my fraternity, but it may very well have been a beer I shared with my Dad, at some point or another early in my college days.  The fact that I really don’t remember for sure speaks volumes.

There is a cost of ownership, and it goes beyond the particular space or square footage that an item occupies in a box.  That beer bottle certainly didn’t take up any more space in a moving carton than any other household object, such as a pot, or a glass jar, or, say, 300 pounds of books that I’ll never read again.  To me, it’s “How much psychological, mental, and emotional space is this object taking up in my brain?”

Because it’s not space, it’s time.  It’s “Oh, that’s the Post-It™ note that she (?) wrote that inspirational thingy on, back when I was a something-or-other.”  Try explaining the value of that to your insurance company when your house burns down.

And he’s going to relate this to a commentary on media… how? my readers are thinking. (I think there are twelve to fourteen of you.  Thank you.)  Well, two things:

One.  If you’re going to uproot your life in search of knowledge and meaning about media, culture, or communication, be damned sure that it’s what you want to do.  I am, myself, reasonably sure, but moving my little Post-Its™ around has been extremely taxing, to the point where I’m afraid it’s depleted my ability to study media.  In fact, I don’t even think I know what media is.  I think it’s like, TV or something?

Two.  The media thing is coming back to me now, and if there’s anything I do know about media, it’s that it’s very good at getting us to buy shit, or stuff, as George Carlin more eloquently put it, and I’m here to tell ya, just be careful what you get.  Avoid any kind of paper products on which meaningful things can be written.  That stuff should all be available online now, anyway.

On the other hand, there are things like a wood carving a mallard duck that my grandfather created, probably over thirty years ago.  When I pulled that out of its box and unwrapped it, it brought to me a great sense of comfort and home.

“So I got this girl’s IP address…”

There is a justifiable uproar over both Viacom’s attempts (and apparent success) at obtaining user information from Google and Google’s accumulation of this information in the first place.  Viacom obtained a court order for Google to turn over login names and IP addresses of its users in relation to viewings of Viacom’s copyrighted video materials on YouTube.  The internet, it seems, is not like telephone service; every use of this utility is said to leave a digital trail.

But is this necessarily so?  If I perform a search on Google without logging in, or any other search engine for that matter, is that search traceable to me?  If one views a particular video on YouTube, is information or data stored that would clearly identify exactly who viewed the video and at what time?

Much in the way of privacy issues seems to me to stem from matters of convenience for the average user, who for example may perform searches or surf the internet under a particular Google user ID.  The average user, enjoying the benefits of being “signed in” to Google (such as being able to store locations searched for on Google Maps) may not realize or understand that a search of a more, ahem, private nature is also made under that same login ID, unless the user signs out.  But even if the user signs out of Google, the user must still worry about his or her internet service provider; presumably, even on a cable internet or T1 connection, there is still some data that is transmitted back and forth that identifies that user as the legitimate subscriber.

While a theory of electronic privacy protection is overdue, I’ll leave that for a later time.  It’s my understanding that not only can one search the internet without being “logged on” to a particular search engine, but also that IP addresses do not necessarily connect or point to a single computer or user.  While I wouldn’t trust YouTube spokesman Ricardo Reyes any further than I could Google Throw him, he confirms in an NPR story my understanding of the IP address, by pointing out that it is a “random number generated to the computer you are working from,” and that “there is no coupling of that information that we have that can identify you in any way, shape, or form to who you are.”

So far, I haven’t heard much at all about the technological limitations of tracing identities online, except for NPR’s inclusion of Mr. Reyes’ explanation.  While I’m inclined very much to side with privacy advocates in these regards, neither would I like to see a one-sided mongering of fear over this issue.  The BBC story labels the IP address as an “online identifier,” without much in the way of further explanation.  I would hope there are some fine lads at the National Security Agency who can, in fact, trace communications back to specific would-be terrorists, but I also think that this kind of endeavor would require such extraordinary resources that if one were to develop any viable methods, the NSA would go out of its way to find you and say, “Oh, yeah, that’s interesting how you’ve traced these IP numbers.  Yeah, we… really don’t know how to do that.  Now sign these papers, or we’ll kill you.”

I’m not a computer expert.  In fact, I often get angry at computers for not doing what I think they should do, so it’s probably best that I’m not a computer expert.  Is there anyone out there who is?  Care to comment?

On-Demand: I demand good TV!

I confess that I don’t understand much of film and television anymore.

This is strange to people who know me, because they’ve always assumed that I want to make movies and television.  I’m not so sure anymore, really.

I don’t think I need to tell anyone out there that much of it is horrible.  But my, do we watch it anyway.  These media companies aren’t huge for nothing.  The reason that they’re so big is that there are so many of us watching these terrible shows, and they are in turn able to sell those large numbers of us to their advertisers.

But let me just get to the point and make an open, curmudgeonly and obvious declaration:  the state of narrative storytelling on film and television is abominable.

I’m on a airplane, and I can see “The Terminator” television show playing on a monitor in the row in front of me.  It’s your typical action/adventure sequence; we see someone shot, fall to the ground in a heap, cut to the deceased friend/partner/lover screaming “No!” and rushing over to the body to weep and wail, “Why?  Why?” and so forth and so on.  Then the assailant arrives, levels his gun at the survivor (the “level the gun” shot always from a low angle – it signifies “evil”) and FIRES and…

Cut to a woman waking up:  “Oh, no, it was a dream…”  Well, that makes it better.

Who acts like this?  Why must we perceive constant violence and death through the eyes of stylized cinematography and choreography?  Why must we be subjected to hackneyed storytelling that presents only plagiarized themes and imagery?

The real question is, why do we subject ourselves to it?

Which brings up another point, speaking of who is subjected to it.  This show is available on a video-on-demand monitor, one of which is installed in every seat back on the aircraft.  Not only could a child access this program with no difficulty, but a child could easily see the images displayed on a neighboring monitor.  Even without sound, it’s hard to argue that the imagery is not of a sufficiently exciting and fast-cut nature that it would suck most viewers in.

Without getting into an argument about censorship or whether these shows should be available in these types of situations, I believe we all share a responsibility to monitor what types of imagery our children see.  If you’re a passenger, be aware of kids around you.  If you’re a flight attendant, at least make sure that kids viewing is supervised.  If you’re an airline, use some common sense when it comes to your programming.  “But we have to offer the customers what they want,” an airline executive might protest.  No, you don’t, when it comes to the TV.  We can all wait a few hours until we get to the Days Inn to see the latest episode of “24.”  And if you really want to give customers what they want?  That thing is, of course, more leg room.

And no fees for checked baggage.  And free drinks.  And real food.  And… uh, oh, now it’s an airline blog.

More Cutbacks at the News Widget Factory

There’s a reason I paid $210 last summer to renew my subscription to the Wall Street Journal, as opposed to subscribing to my local hometown newspaper (the Orlando Sentinel) for what would have been a third or maybe even a quarter of the price. The Wall Street Journal offered (and hopefully will continue to offer) meaty, substantial coverage of national, international and business news in a straightforward and thorough manner. I saw no hint of watered-down stories or sensationalized headlines. I bought into the Wall Street Journal brand.

Most city newspapers long ago began to imitate the model of television news; short, punchy stories that offered plenty of facts and juicy soundbites, but little in the way of context or meaning, apart from a condescending cluck or shake of the head ( “Isn’t That Tragic?”). And any attempts at feature stories or investigative reporting that would lend context or meaning were marred by marketing and sales techniques that created sensational headlines, promos and pictures.

Conventional wisdom says that this is what “sells papers.” Conventional wisdom envisions a man at a newsstand who sees a sensational headline and accompanying image and who succumbs to his baser instincts and plops down seventy five cents for the privilege of reading about a grandmother gunned down gangland style.

Maybe that wisdom is true. Maybe there is a robust, vital market for sensationalist rags.

But here’s the thing: Sam Zell mentioned in a speech to Los Angeles Times staffers how important their brand was (I provide the link to the YouTube video, but watch at your own risk: it’s difficult to stomach seeing corporate suck-ups guffaw every time Mr. Zell says “fuck” or “shit”). And independent newspaper analyst John Morton reinforces that concept: “To the extent you diminish your product, I think you diminish your success, in print or online… In the long run, it’s going to be harmful to newspapers’ brand names, which is the strongest thing they’ve got.”

But according to an article in Monday’s New York Times, that’s exactly what Sam Zell is doing with his properties. By reducing staff, reducing pages, and adding more charts, graphs and “other easily digested elements that surveys show readers like” (don’t get me started on how useful surveys are), he’s further diluting the product that his brand represents, particularly, as pointed out by the article, to his most loyal and affluent readers, who are a prime target for potential advertisers.

Mr. Zell seems to view his media companies more like widget factories than anything else. Chief operating officer Randy Michaels justified staff cuts by concluding that reporters weren’t outputting enough product. It makes one wonder by what standards he would judge that. Perhaps the task of writing could be made more efficient through division of labor; Mr. Michaels might hire nine cheaper laborers, placed on an assembly line and each responsible for only one part of speech.

The result is more likely to be short, punchy wire stories, interspersed with so-called feature stories that rely on salaciousness to sell them. It’s a method that will destroy the brands of most respected big city newspapers subjected to this kind of management.

I don’t know what the newspaper business is like. I’m not looking at a balance sheet for the Tribune company. Even experts on the industry don’t seem to know of a better solution. But diluting your product isn’t the answer. “Most readers of newspapers really only consume a small fraction of what the newspaper produces,” says Allen H. Neuharth, inventor of the oh-so-colorful USA Today, in an uninformed comment on the matter. A strong newspaper offers more than just a culled summary of events, designed to be skimmed over by Everyman. It offers first rate reporting on local and regional issues. It offers a way for residents of cities across the country to connect to national and international affairs. And most important, it serves as a publication of record. Not everyone is going to read every story in a newspaper, Mr. Neuharth, of course not. But every story published will be read by someone and will be researched by someone of a future generation. It is of critical importance that facts, analysis and evaluation of the important issues of our day are recorded in a meaningful, significant way.

A Peaceful Transition of Power: No Tanks Seen in WSJ Newsroom

The story in the Wall Street Journal last week on Robert Thomson’s ascension to editor-in-chief of that paper once again seems accurate and fair enough, even as it paints him as a likeable, intellectual guy, with a “self-effacing and humorous style” and a clever vocabulary to match. His experience as a foreign correspondent in Beijing and Tokyo counts for a bit in my book, though I’d have a greater appreciation for time spent in hot spots like Beirut or other dangerous locales in the Middle East. From what little I’ve read of Mr. Thomson (and believe me, it’s little), it seems that I might actually like the guy. Plus, he has cool glasses.

But what does his newly-started tenure mean for the future of the Wall Street Journal? It’s easy enough to balance out your opinion pages with opposition viewpoints, as the Journal has done with a recent op-ed piece from Joe Biden and the addition of a left-leaning columnist in the form of Thomas Frank; what I want to know is what Mr. Thomson will do to resist the typical urges that motivate newspapermen to adulterate their media products. Readers of the Wall Street Journal don’t want or need shorter news stories. They don’t want or need stories that limit themselves to one page. And they don’t want or need splashy front pages that are redolent of Fox News and CNN with their multiple news tickers, soft news bites and general information overload that makes even the most ADD-addled among us go make another pot of coffee in order to keep up.

The Journal will also soon be adding a quarterly luxury and style magazine. I know many of us out there can’t wait to thumb through page after page of hot, aloof women and the men who rule them, as well as full color ads for multi-million dollar condos and cars in New York, Phoenix and Miami. I might permit myself to longingly stare at those ads from time to time, like a hungry unemployed guy staring in through the windows of a fancy restaurant.

Well, anyway, everyone’s happy now, as evidenced by the handsome hedcuts (the unique line drawings of people that the Wall Street Journal is known for) of Mr. Thomson and a smiling Leslie Hinton, now Journal publisher. There seems to have been a little bit of placating the Special Committee, the oversight group charged with ensuring the editorial integrity of the Journal, in order to smooth the transition of power. Murdoch and company set them at ease by acknowledging that the Marcus Brauchli departure could have been handled differently. While this might ensure a continuing balance in the editorial sections of the paper and a check on rash personnel changes, what should also matter to the Special Committee is whether the Wall Street Journal will maintain its reputation for accurate and thorough reporting on the significant issues of our day.

Bad Camera Work

Out of the cacophony that is created by the tripe that passes as political debate programming emerges a beacon of sanity on Sunday mornings: This Week with George Stephanopoulos. The fact that I remember watching the program as a kid and associating its original host, David Brinkley, with a rather dull and tedious exercise in television now signifies to me that it must have been terribly relevant. Although I will admit that it gets silly sometimes (reflecting the state of national politics), I think that This Week is still relevant; it offers by the standards of modern television a long, thoughtful discussion on what are hopefully important issues of the day.

But I have a complaint.

(What? A complaint? No, John, surely not! Everything is right with the world, no?)

The Roundtable segment is excellent, particularly as it is anchored quietly and unobtrusively by George Will. (Mr. Stephanopoulos does an excellent job as the host; Mr. Will I consider to be the unofficial anchor.)

But the camera work is awful.

Many might say, “My God, John, stop being so persnickety about such trivial and technical matters, and pay attention to the content!” But the point is this: the camera work and technical direction of the show are critical to its overall communication.

What happened on this morning’s show is unfortunately becoming typical of television news. As an individual shot of Washington Post columnist E. J. Dionne, Jr. appeared, he shifted his position slightly. As he did so, he moved partly out of the frame. Usually, a camera operator will subtly pan and tilt the camera to shift with him. On today’s show, the camera might as well have been unmanned, and in fact, I suspect it was. In the era of cutbacks and maximizing revenue to make up for what are probably cash-bleeding broadcast news operations, robotic or remote-controlled cameras are increasingly used in television studios. In any case, it wasn’t until a few moments later that the camera pointed at Mr. Dionne was finally adjusted. Even then, it was not in the smooth, barely perceptible fashion that a skillful camera operator would accomplish. Whether it was in fact a remotely controlled or automated camera, or simply an inexperienced, overworked or half-asleep technician, the end result was a framing that became jarring and distracting.

Why is this important? It becomes “noise,” which means anything that interferes or disrupts the communication process. The responsibility of the director and his crew is to direct our attention to where it needs to be, to at least reasonably approximate the experience of actually sitting at the table and listening to the discussion. Television can be somewhat good at this approximation; our attention naturally focuses on who is speaking in a situation like this, and we look closely at someone’s face to pick up visual cues that communicate as much or more than the words they are speaking. Bad camera framing is more than just a “technical problem” on a show like this. Even if it distracts us only at the subconscious level, it can create enough “noise” to take away from our absorption, comprehension and evaluation of what is communicated.