When the Television Critics Association selected The Daily
Show on Comedy Central as the outstanding news and information
program for 2004, the host of the nightly satire, Jon Stewart,
acted mystified. Winner the year before for best achievement in
comedy, Stewart worried the award might be a case of mistaken
identity.
Outside observers had their own concerns. Were critics engaging
in their own frivolity by choosing "The Most Trusted Name in Fake
News" (as The Daily Show bills itself) over such nominees
as ABC's Nightline, CBS's 60 Minutes and PBS's
Frontline? Or has traditional journalism in America reached
a crossroads, with novel forms arresting our attention and becoming
influential in contemporary affairs?
A cartographer intending to map today's media world needs to
work in pencil and keep a sizable eraser handy. As the communications
revolution that began in the 20th century keeps accelerating,
the landscape for receiving messages seems unrecognizable from
the past. New forms (via cable, satellite and the Internet) compete
with ink-on-paper publications and over-the-air broadcasts not
only for a person's time but also for the way that person becomes
informed.
Numbers help explain why yesterday's maps look outdated. Newspaper
circulation dropped 1 percent each year from 1990 to 2002. Since
1975, across the country 300 daily papers have gone out of business.
According to a 1994 survey by the Pew Research Center for the
People and the Press, 58 percent of respondents said they'd read
a newspaper the day before. A decade later, the number was down
to 42 percent, with those ages 18 to 29 at a mere 23 percent.
Television news, particularly at the major network level, is
in sorrier shape. From peak ratings in the late 1960s, the 30-minute
nightly news broadcasts on ABC, CBS and NBC have lost 59 percent
of their collective audience. Between 1993 and 2004, Pew Center
researchers found that regular watching of an evening network
report declined from 60 percent of those surveyed to 34 percent.
American population is steadily increasing -- 203 million in
1970 to 295 million in 2005 -- but the consumer base of traditional
news outlets is contracting. New information alternatives offer
such an array of choices it's often difficult to know where to
turn. In the current media world, the concept of "mass" -- as
in "mass audience" or "mass medium" -- loses much of its prior
meaning because the environment is so cluttered. Journalistic
sources that didn't exist a few years ago flourish at the expense
of long-established outlets.
In the same Pew Center study charting the decline in frequency
for reading newspapers and watching television news, 38 percent
of Americans say they regularly tune to cable news and 29 percent
go to Internet news sites at least three days per week -- a rise
in online usage from a miniscule 2 percent in 1995. Popularity
of news magazines and radio news remained fairly constant over
the past decade -- but neither form's current status could be
confused with bygone glory days.
Then, of course, there's The Daily Show. What the public
considers news today is vastly different from the era of "mass"
outlets. Jon Stewart and his talented sidekicks focus on current
subjects and journalism vulnerabilities, including network coverage,
producing "fake news" that's funny and telling. Younger viewers
in particular find The Daily Show approach engaging,
ranking it highly as an influential source of what they know about
contemporary affairs.
That Stewart actually interviews authentic newsmakers means
that a viewer is constantly shifting back and forth between satire
and some semblance of news. (John Edwards, for instance, announced
his candidacy for the 2004 Democratic presidential nomination
on The Daily Show.) The program takes delight in violating
traditional journalistic canons, and in a rapidly changing information
arena it wins awards.
Stewart's appropriation of news for comic purpose is by no means
novel. Since the early 19th century, poking fun at topical targets
has been a fact of American life. Mark Twain, Will Rogers, Bob
Hope and Johnny Carson all found current affairs grist for their
humor mills.
What makes The Daily Show different is not only its
bull's-eye reliance on newsy matters (momentous or momentary)
but also its deliberate appearance as a television news production.
The program blurs the lines dividing journalism from entertainment.
What we're watching is parody, ersatz news, yet it's certainly
about real news.
To a certain extent, nationally aired radio talk programs share
similarities with The Daily Show. In high-tech symbiosis,
they live off of what's being reported as news while the host
provides a point of view that combines commentary and crowd-pleasing
delivery. A Rush Limbaugh or an Al Franken comes across as an
ideological true believer, but an impulse to amuse often animates
the words. News becomes part of the personality's shtick. Is the
result journalistic commentary or news-driven entertainment? Again,
distinct lines aren't apparent.
What's occurring in television and radio also parallels certain
practices on the Internet. Traditional news operations co-exist
alongside the mushrooming "blogosphere," with thousands of web
sites devoted to personal reactions to contemporary subjects and
news coverage itself. This dual relationship expands public discourse.
But does a solitary blogger, commenting on the passing scene while
relying on traditional news sources, qualify as a journalist?
If The Daily Show is fake news, is blogging really "parajournalism"
-- a subsidiary form inextricably linked to established institutions?
In today's tangled and thorny media world, older mainstream
sources (newspapers, magazines, broadcast networks and the like)
compete with newer alternative outlets -- and increasing numbers
rely on the tributaries rather than the mainstream. Ready access
to these new media and their messages is but one reason they're
selected.
Another factor is the precipitous decline in trust and credibility
experienced by traditional news organizations in recent years.
Back in the 1970s, CBS news anchor Walter Cronkite led opinion
surveys as "the most trusted figure" in American public life,
and newspaper reporters Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward were regarded
as heroes for their investigation of Watergate. Such admiration
didn't last. In the fall of 2004, a Gallup Poll found just 44
percent of Americans confident of the media's ability to report
news accurately and fairly.
Whether it be Jayson Blair's fabricated dispatches for The
New York Times, the ill-sourced and irresponsible
report on CBS's 60 Minutes about President George W.
Bush's National Guard service or any of the other outrages exposed
lately, flagrant unprofessionalism propels dubious citizens to
other sources. The beneficiaries of mainstream media malfeasance
are often the nontraditional outlets. Bloggers, in particular,
can -- and do -- point out blatant errors, as they did with the
60 Minutes report, and gain followers in the process.
Valuable as alternative sources might be, they pose potential
problems. In most cases, serious shoe-leather reporting is secondary
to commentary, and the new outlets are highly dependent on a particular
point of view. Is it possible to understand different sides of
an issue or problem if most of what someone knows originates at
a source with a definite slant?
What we know or how we form our opinions is often the consequence
of the sources to which we're exposed as contemporary affairs
unfold. The Program on International Policy Attitudes at the University
of Maryland released a study in autumn 2003, several months after
the United States occupied Iraq, that surveyed the public's misperceptions
about the war and the reasons for waging it. When questioned about
three areas -- evidence explicitly linking Iraq and al Qaeda,
the discovery of weapons of mass destruction, and support of world
opinion for American action -- there was considerable disparity
in people's understanding that the claims were, in fact, not
accurate depending on the respondent's primary source of
news.
According to the study, 80 percent of Fox News viewers believed
one or more of the misperceptions -- with those watching CBS at
71 percent, ABC at 61 percent and both NBC and CNN at 55 percent.
Readers of print sources dipped just below half at 47 percent,
while followers of government-supported, commercial-free National
Public Radio and the Public Broadcasting System were at the opposite
end of the spectrum at 23 percent.
Of course, the Bush Administration repeated its justification
for war (especially the weapons threat and the al Qaeda connection)
on an almost daily basis, and those statements received consistent
attention throughout the media. If over an extended period half
or more of the public misunderstands matters related to war and
peace, this situation in itself is reason for alarm -- and criticism.
Several months after the Maryland study appeared, both The
New York Times and The Washington Post
published postmortems, pointing out serious lapses and problems
in their pre-invasion coverage. These influential newspapers,
along with other outlets, kept transmitting the charge that Iraq
possessed weapons of mass destruction. They did not adequately
verify the veracity of the charge. Nor did they offer the views
of WMD doubters, views that would have conveyed a sense of balance.
Especially at a time when governmental policy makes pre-emptive
war possible, accurate and comprehensive information is essential
for public officials (and for the public at large) to evaluate
the merits of taking military action.
As the news and information universe continues to expand, the
discriminating citizen will need to be purposefully indiscriminate,
actively selecting what's available as daily communication. One
way of minimizing misunderstanding is to scrutinize several sources
from varying viewpoints, encompassing traditional and
alternative outlets.
Since the 1960s, the phrase "liberal media" has become a cliché
-- and for many an epithet -- to describe mainstream sources.
It's logical that alternative outlets would define themselves
differently, distinct in approach and viewpoint. To a striking
degree, these new sources challenge the "liberal media" stereotype
and present themselves as an informal yet persistent check on
established message-makers. Realistically, however, are the premises
behind such thinking valid, or is this agenda setting by another
name?
Bias of some kind is inherent in human communication, but that
doesn't mean every news organization thinks alike. Viewing the
media as a monolith of similarly slanted messages draws into question
the independent operations existing at each outlet and the competitive
impulses that enliven and inspire newsrooms.
Moreover, it's difficult to figure out how seriously to take
the charge of the mainstream media being liberal when you read
statements of identifiable conservatives who've talked candidly
about the subject. In 1992, Rich Bond, serving then as head of
the Republican National Committee, confessed that claims of ideological
bias weren't wholly merited. "There is some strategy to it," he
told a Washington Post reporter. "I'm a coach of kids'
basketball and Little League teams. If you watch any great coach,
what they try to do is 'work the refs.' Maybe the ref will cut
you a little slack on the next one."
William Kristol, a former official in Republican administrations
and currently editor and publisher of the conservative magazine
The Weekly Standard, went further when he acknowledged
to The New Yorker in 1995: "I admit it -- the liberal
media were never that powerful, and the whole thing was often
used as an excuse by conservatives for conservative failures."
A few years later, on CNN, Kristol observed that the media weren't
"as biased and liberal" as many thought. "They're actually conservative
sometimes," he said.
While Bond and Kristol admit allegations of liberal bias are
akin to false cries of wolf, Ari Fleischer, former presidential
press secretary to George W. Bush, provides context for understanding
media orientation. In his just-published memoir, Taking Heat,
Fleischer explains: "Many Republicans, especially conservatives,
believe the press are liberals who oppose Republicans and Republican
ideas. I think there's an element of truth to that, but it is
complicated, secondary, and often nuanced. More important, the
press's first and most pressing bias is in favor of conflict and
fighting. That's especially the case for the White House press
corps."
As Fleischer suggests,
media bias is more complicated than political or ideological preference.
Structural, attitudinal and institutional factors come into play
-- and carry more weight. Above all, mainstream news values a
good story -- one that's novel, timely, consequential and engaging,
if not compelling. The old chestnut that American journalism tries
to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable adds a distinct
attitude -- civic compassion and public accountability -- to the
work.
Especially when it comes to power and authority, the establishment
media can be probingly skeptical. Naturally critical, these hounds
of hypocrisy try to sniff out whether words match deeds and whether
a figure's image conforms, as much as possible, to reality.
For those being pursued, a generalized explanation of journalistic
attitude and action can mean little. In the eye of the beholder,
who is also the newsmaker, the media themselves are the real problem.
Near the end of his first year as president, Bill Clinton vigorously
complained to the magazine Rolling Stone that he didn't
receive "one damn bit of credit from the knee-jerk liberal press."
The two-term Democrat, so despised by conservatives, never found
coverage to his liking. That he'd rail against "the knee-jerk
liberal press" sounds incongruous, even ironic, but it shows the
extent to which the stereotype of bias is more all-purpose accusation
than demonstrable fact.
Claims of bias always depend on personal interpretation and
point of view. Although those on the right tend to be more organized
and vocal in their criticism, many on the left consider the establishment
media as profit-obsessed operations of corporate conglomerates.
In their opinion, a searching story that draws into question the
larger status quo or runs the risk of alienating a sizable audience
won't receive exposure for economic reasons. It's safer for the
sake of the bottom line to carry an abundance of soft news and
features -- about celebrities, health treatments, fads and the
like.
Consistent political partiality across the mainstream media
is largely mythical. If traditional journalism is so overwhelmingly
slanted and influential, as some rightist critics argue, you'd
think that conservative politicians would have more trouble than
they do winning elections and that more than 18 percent (according
to a 2004 Harris Poll) would identify themselves as liberal.
Be that as it may,representatives of both ends of the political
spectrum agree the news reporting about certain social and cultural
issues generally reflects liberal orientation. Abortion, affirmative
action, gay rights, gun control and the environment tend to receive
more positive coverage, and in this sense indirectly help like-minded
politicians.
Yet, serious as this situation is, other factors take precedence
in explicitly political and governmental reportage. When Monica
Lewinsky became a household name overnight in 1998, President
Clinton's political and social views didn't make an iota of difference
in the free-for-all mania to reveal sordid specifics of their
relationship.
The debate over bias has become both more complicated and less
meaningful in recent years. It's more complicated because the
argument took root during the late 1960s, when only a few nationally
significant channels of information were available. Today there
are many more sources from which to choose, including some that
take sides and don't aim for impartiality.
The multitude of information voices vying for attention often
means a journalistic outlet takes a considered, even calculating
approach to set itself apart from competitors. Some newspapers
and magazines might encourage prose that features know-it-all,
look-at-me "attitude," with the writer's viewpoint rivaling the
subject treated. Even Associated Press, the 156-year-old wire
service noted for its who-what-when-where-why reporting, recently
began offering newspapers the choice of two leads for stories.
While one emphasizes basic facts in straight news fashion, AP
says it wants to offer the second one to "draw in the reader through
imagery, narrative devices, perspective or other creative means."
On radio and television, full-throated, at times raucous, discussion
frequently replaces any semblance of civil discourse. It's as
though the loudest, most combative voice will stand out from the
others -- and thus get heard. Although such programs are carried
on all-news outlets, the proximity to genuine journalism is remote.
Part personal prejudice, part ego gratification, heat rather than
light usually results.
With the media multiplying like kudzu and the mainstream shrinking,
there might seem less at stake in the controversy over bias. In
an era of deep political divisions, however, messengers carrying
political messages are as vulnerable to criticism as partisan
politicians. Indeed, the media bias debate feeds political polarization
in the United States by making the public suspicious of what they
read, see and hear from the left, right and center.
Consider the titles of recent books about the media, several
of which became national bestsellers: Bias: A CBS Insider
Exposes How the Media Distort the News by Bernard Goldberg;
Slander: Liberal Lies about the American Right by Ann
Coulter; What Liberal Media? The Truth About BIAS and the
News by Eric Alterman; Lies (And the Lying Liars Who
Tell Them): A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right by Al Franken;
Big Lies: The Right-Wing Propaganda Machine and How It Distorts
the Truth, by Joe Conason; and Weapons of Mass Distortion:
The Coming Meltdown of the Liberal Media by L. Brent Bozell
III.
With all the allegations about lying, bias and distortion, it's
difficult to see how anything resembling truth could ever emerge.
One person's polluted channel for information is another's invaluable
source -- and the debate is frequently far from polite. In Slander,
Coulter remarks: "Journalism is war by other means." That seems
a restrictive definition, but the intellectual issue isn't exactly
joined when Franken in his book dismisses Coulter as a "nutcase."
Rather than trying to provoke thought, these books provide poison-tipped
ammunition for like-minded believers. That they sell so well speaks
volumes about entrenched, ideological opinions and fervor, daily
stoked, that won't easily fade.
Although the media bias debate (in books, articles, talk shows
and elsewhere) often appears as a sideshow to the center-ring
argument between conservatives and liberals over the nation's
direction and political issues, it's taking place as the public
tries to figure out how best to navigate through all the available
news and information.
In this new milieu, the mainstream media no longer exert the
hold they once did. Other voices are being heard, and some of
those voices critique media performance and perceived slanting
for whatever motivation.
Fox News Channel might promote "fair and balanced" news coverage,
but that slogan is about as truthful and self-serving as the one
published on every edition of The New York Times: "All
the News That's Fit to Print." Fox News found its niche by defining
its messages differently from others in TV journalism. Begun in
1996 and inspired in part by the success of talk-radio, the channel
wasn't afraid to be perceived as having a point of view. That
style attracted viewers, propelling Fox News into the lead of
cable news organizations. Significantly, during the 2004 Republican
National Convention, Fox News had a larger audience than any of
the three broadcast networks (ABC, CBS, NBC) and over three times
the viewership of either MSNBC or CNN. By taking a point of view,
the channel is building a following that's worth watching on its
own.
To what extent does the success of Fox signal a return to a
partisan press in America? In the nation's early years, newspapers
made no effort to be neutral, a practice that continues in Britain,
Europe and elsewhere. If the news audience expects a particular
slant, charges of bias become meaningless. This, however, comes
at the expense of not learning certain aspects of a story or never
hearing a contrary opinion about a subject.
With ideologically oriented information, the content has a predictability
that puts it in the category of preaching to an already assembled
and faithful choir. What's reported might introduce new information,
but the larger objective involves reinforcing someone's viewpoint
and opinions. The approach also tends to deepen political and
social divisions -- and to stifle more comprehensive inquiry.
Instead of fostering fuller understanding, sides are taken, fingers
are pointed and blame is assessed.
What complicates any discussion of today's media environment
in the United States is the variety of different messages circulating
at a given time. A newspaper, for example, might try to present
its reportage with (in Irish writer and statesman Edmund Burke's
phrase) "the cold neutrality of an impartial judge," but commentary
columns and editorials frequently make readers think they detect
a distinct perspective. In news magazines and on broadcast media,
analysis and interpretation often seem to mingle with personal
opinion. Trying to keep types of journalism and different sources
straight becomes difficult for the public.
Most media don't take enough care to explain their work or to
make the necessary distinctions among different journalistic forms.
How many faithfully follow the famous dictum "fact is sacred,
opinion is free"? Compounding the problem are the new, alternative
sources of information that rely on the news for their content
but follow their own agendas and prejudices. In this increasingly
crowded and noisy arena, distinguishing between journalism and
entertainment or journalism and "parajournalism" can be difficult.
There are no bright, bold lines marking off balanced, complete
reporting (of just-the-facts school) from selective, slanted opinion
offerings.
To be sure, a citizen's access to a wide range of fact and opinion
has never been greater. For example, through cable outlets (including
C-SPAN) and Internet sites, it's now relatively easy to watch
or read the entirety of speeches, news conferences and other presentations,
allowing someone to evaluate and judge a source without outside
interference.
But that admirably independent approach now openly competes
with its opposite: Point-of-view reporting and analysis that originates
with an agenda or purpose. These sources can be valuable -- bloggers,
say, can keep a story alive by investigating it from other angles
and by pushing the traditional media to correct an original account
-- but the trick is to avoid what media theorists call "information
segregation."
When this happens, people rely on outlets with which they already
agree. They don't seek contrasting information. This method of
media selection -- and personal bias -- results in the possibility
of never understanding an issue as completely as possible or even
very well.
Different technologies now make it possible to receive personally
designed, tailor-made collections of reportage, analysis and commentary
that observers have dubbed "The Daily Me." But if the "Me" too
narrowly defines the information provided -- a preponderance of
entertainment or sports news, political information from one perspective,
economic or business reports but little else -- there's the danger
of not receiving a thorough, reliable picture of America or the
world.
The Daily Show and "The Daily Me" challenge conventional
thinking about news, but they symbolize our times and future --
with definitions changing, traditions ending, lines blurring.
With the media world teeming with choice, our relationship to
it will be radically different, as we try to deal with the endless
welter of messages. "Keeping up" with contemporary affairs (a
civic notion of an earlier era with far fewer sources) will demand
a conscious effort of constant scrutiny. The age-old worry over
gaining access to information is over. Now it's a matter of selection
and attention -- and assuming new obligations of 21st-century
citizenship.
Robert Schmuhl is professor
of American studies and director of the John W. Gallivan Program
in Journalism, Ethics & Democracy at Notre Dame.
(July 2005)
