NPR reporter Julia Simon had a story today that exemplifies the best and worst of public media.
She starts with an incredibly good question: all educated Americans know that the US gives mega money to Egypt annually, but what does that money actually buy?
In a very easy to understand narrative Simon takes us on a guided tour of what happens with this money. SPOILER ALERT! It never leaves the USA. It actually purchases a bunch of bloated, American-made cold-war weapons systems of which Egypt already has plenty. Best quote:
There’s no conceivable scenario in which they’d need all those tanks short of an alien invasion.
– Shana Marshall, Insert Relevant Institution Here
Simon then follows with specific examples of companies who lobby Washington to keep these purchases going.
So far so awesome. But then the story just ends. There is the requisite comment that this is just how things are and the inertia of existing programs is difficult to change etc. We’ll just have to leave it there.
Conventional wisdom achieved: the military industrial complex is what it is, sigh.
But there’s a giant Nile crocodile in the room that is utterly absent from this story of a corrupt developing country spending proxy billions of American taxpayer money on unnecessary American made weapons, isn’t there?
Oh wait! Corruption!
The subtext of the story for those actually paying attention is that someone, somewhere, is getting a lot of kickback for these deals. Probably a lot of someones. In fact a lack of corruption in this set-up would be so astonishing as to deserve its own mention.
But I guess that sort of exploration is for the kind of investigative reporting that either doesn’t exist much anymore or is too focussed on Anthony’s Wiener.
Speaking of “on a Friday”, what is it with local and national NPR hosts telling us, every few minutes, what day of the week it is? Is it because a lot of the listening audience resides in “memory care” apartments?
This happens enough that, sort of like the “give us a sense” style of interviewing, I am convinced it is some kind of “best practice” enforced by policy and not just a fad.
I’m no Pope Gregory XIII, but I am usually pretty on top of what day I’m having a case of or humping over or thanking God that it is. I’d like to humbly suggest that you guys go all the way and tell us the date. Try “it’s Fridy the 18th” instead of the truly useless “on a Friday, it’s Morning Edition” or “good Friday morning to you.”
Either that or add even more tautological information so we can all meditate on what it means to be told things we already think by the journalists we choose to listen to. “Here on Earth, just like yesterday, it’s Morning Edition.” “Reality is comprehensible by applying reason to the information detected with the human sensorium, and it’s All Things Considered.”
Speaking of days, does anyone inside NPR or out actually know what the hell “Weekends at All Things Considered ” means? I can’t parse it. What was wrong with Weekend Edition Saturday/Sunday? I smell a committee.
Just a brief item to note that the guys and ghouls at “Story Corpse” have again incremented their body count and the world’s collective misery. Today’s heart-soup immersion blender’s victim was canine, which at least shakes it up a little.
I think the producers over there dream of a day when every death of every beloved person, animal, or object with great sentimental value can make the whole world cry. These stories are, as we are constantly reminded, archived in the library of congress, so they can make the space aliens who’ll be sifting through the wreckage of our civilization in a few years cry too.
I can find one positive note: at least the pun-loving Keeper landed a job after the regrettable cancellation of Tales From the Crypt.
There was a pretty good piece by David Folkenflik today dissecting the press coverage of Notre Dame’s girlfriend-gate. At one point he spoke of the problem of how much the reporters wanted the story to be true (like the one about Saddam’s WMDs I suppose).
Let’s think about that statement. The reporters wanted a young, football-star-beloved woman to have died of cancer long before her time? That really helps me understand Story Gore’s morbid editorial bias.
I’ve noticed that journalists tellingly universally loathe the preachy, shallow character-filled Sorkin series “The Newsroom”. I love it. It’s almost like “Airbag Moments” the tv show. It takes the media to the woodshed weekly by doing what Folkenflik does, only in narrative form. It Monday-morning (“On a Monday…”) quarterbacks the news. It’s one big thought experiment about, knowing what we know now, how should the press have handled big events in recent history. Who else is even having this conversation in this way? The Daily Show last week even expressed a devout wish that the show depicted a journalistic drive that actually existed. In reality there isn’t enough money in profit-driven journalism for the logistics of investigative reporting about things less interesting but more important than gridiron paramour three-hankies.
The more vital question for reporters, I suppose, is whether or not the platonic ideal of reportage Sorkin tries to model would have made any real difference. What if the answer to that is no?
As punishment, anyone who reported about the Notre Dame story has to watch a “Love Story” / “Brian’s Song” double feature tonight. I’m assuming the Story Corps folks were already planning to because, you know, it’s Friday!
Speaking of unpleasant stories the media wants badly to be true, NPR loves the “Military Veterans Aren’t Getting The Support They Deserve and it’s the VA’s Fault” headline. I can’t recall a single positive NPR story about the Veterans Administration. I happen to know that the VA, especially the health care delivery side known as the VHA, not only delivers a lot of great care, but also delivers it in ways that are years and sometimes decades ahead of the private sector. Computerized patient record keeping is a powerful example of this. Given how many stories NPR does about the tragicomic struggles of the private sector with this technology you’d think they’d cover how the public sector already nailed it.
Something else the press usually misses is that a large number of VA employees are themselves, by mandate, for better and for worse, Veterans. This is especially true in the VBA, the branch that determines what benefits Veterans receive, and the recipient of the most frequent and bitter excoriations. By policy the VA hires some of these Veterans preferentially over non-Veterans who might be more qualified. (Not every Veteran is an angel straight from heaven, and that should not be a controversial sentiment.) So please be aware that when you criticize the VA you are criticizing a whole bunch of Veterans many of whom are working hard and some of whom are hardly working.
We can all agree that many Veterans do need and deserve more services than they are getting, but journalists need to stop acting like the reason is some faceless implacable bureaucracy. Like most things, it comes down to money and logistics (sound familiar?), not a lack of desire on the part of the VA to serve the Veterans.
On a local note: please keep in mind, NHPR, there are good economic reasons why there’s no full VA hospital in your state. Politicians and scoundrels love to talk about how much they care about Veterans, but forcing the VA to waste money on a facility that won’t have enough patients to stay in business or provide a full range of services does not serve the only constituencies that matter, Veterans and taxpayers. Between the Boston area, Maine, and Vermont, northern New England is as well served as makes economic sense. If you’re concerned about drive times, talk to Veterans who live in far flung towns in hypertrophied western states. This whole “New Hampshire needs a VA” thing is just political grandstanding and cap-feather acquisition. So in spite of your knee-jerk sentimentality and desire for the big bad VA narrative, please add some more balance to your coverage of this.
I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out why responsible news orgs like NPR and NYT are so itchy for the Iowa caucus (and straw poll before those) results. They’ve created endless coverage of the various Republican primary candidates, who increasingly resemble the nutty villains from the campy old Batman TV show with Adam West, as they wend their smarmy ways through every barn, outhouse, and corndog-extrusion facility in the state. The press does this in spite of the fact that responsible people, including Jon Stewart, keep pointing out that the results are meaningless in almost every way that matters.
So why do they do it? I think I figured it out the two reasons,
First things first. Iowa is first. The press loves “breaking” news, and there’s no breaking election news like the “first” primary-ish event.
Second, and this is more important, by making such a big deal about the Iowa caucuses the press actually causes the Iowa results to matter. Think about it. Who would care about the Iowa pseudo-primaries if the press didn’t give them wall-to-wall coverage? Conversely you might care about the Daytona Beach Seniors-Only Bridge Club’s choice of candidate if the press jabbered about it 10 hours a day.
Choosing something silly and making it important gives the press a kind of agency. They become the story. The story is not the results themselves, the story is the amount of attention the press focuses on the results.
And we’re all pretty tired of it, except of course for some members of the tiny and pointless demographic that actually takes part in the caucuses. Oh well, just another clownish, predictable aspect of our increasingly cartoonish and alienating electoral process.
WARNING: This post contains much more profanity, large fonts, and profanity in large fonts than are commonly employed here.
I like to use public radio content as a jumping off point to discuss some larger idea in journalistic practice or politics. I never meant this blog to just be sniping about this or that story or person day to day on the air.
But today I’ll make an exception.
My question today for the producers of Morning Edition:
“What the F**K?!?”
It’s really all I can think. Seriously, what the f**k, guys?
Three, count them, three long, ear-bleedingly bad pieces. And I didn’t even listen to the entire show.
Crappy story 1: No surprise that Barbara Bradley Hagerty would create a staggeringly credulous puff piece on a purported Catholic miracle. What’s shocking is that nobody at NPR listened to it and said “Uhmm, Barbara, you know this is basically Catholic propaganda that could have been released unchanged by the Vatican’s PR department right? We can’t possibly run this. Also, you always do this, so you’re fired. Really, really fired, as in we are removing all of your old stories from the NPR website because we suddenly noticed they are all like this.”
It seems that Hagerty “reporting” on religion is like Sean Hannity “interviewing” Sarah Palin – only without the uncomfortable sexual undercurrent.
Crappy story 2: A super-mawkish “Storycorps” about a self congratulatory divorced dad and his self congratulatory daughter taking a break from self congratulations to congratulate each other on being such an awesome dad/daughter. Now I know I shouldn’t complain because at least no one died in the fascinating stories they told about throwing frisbees around, but cloyed nausea is not a feeling I relish a lot more than the usual existential dread inspired by StoryCorpse. But again, I don’t resent the daddy/daughter combo for making the recording. What they do in that storycorps booth is none of my business. But why was it chosen by someone at NPR to be put on the air?
Crappy Story 3: They actually interviewed the vapid author of and promoted the hideous book “Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids”. Which is enough for me to condemn them for all the reasons that will be obvious to people who aren’t douchebags.
But they ran this on Earth Day.
Now, NPR, I give you money because I listen to you, not because I agree with everything you say. People who listen regularly but don’t give money because they don’t agree with all of the content are straight up assholes, especially if they have Scottish accents.
But if you make it so unpleasant to listen to your programming that I have to turn you off, well, the money goes away too.
Have no fear, dairy fans, Laura Sydell is still on the job! Indeed, she’s all over the whole milk-detecting “smart refrigerator” thing like Judy Miller on Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. Her bio on Twitter says she’s interested in “looking at the intersection of culture and technology.” Who knew she meant “milk culture”?
The only problem is that her Vitamin-D fortified monomania may be blinding her to the larger world of technology. Have you ever heard the old saw that “if your only tool is a hammer then everything looks like a nail?” Evidently every technological advance is, to Sydell, just another inevitable step on the many-streamered path to our glorious smart-fridge future.
She is giving this gallons of coverage. She tweets “Getting ready 2 talk about CES on ATC. So far what interests me most is internet connected appliances:refrigerator, washing machine.” In that two-way on ATC she brings up the whole milk thing right at the beginning to make sure it isn’t edited out for time. Additionally she writes in the synopsis/blog-post that accompanies the audio for this on the ATC website yesterday that “I want my fridge to tell me when I’m out of milk, but,” she adds moovingly, “I don’t know if we are there just yet…”
Courage, Laura! Don’t be a milquetoast!
Listen, I’m as interested in the status of my domestic milk supply as the next blogger, maybe even more than some (looking at you, veganlife.blogspot.com…), but if you think about it for a couple of seconds you’ll realize that this 2% solution to our admittedly nightmarish collective ignorance of our own milk quantities is probably not all it’s cracked up to be, even in theory. What if the smart fridge knows we have gallons of milk but doesn’t know it’s all gone horribly off? What if we have to constantly monitor and recalibrate the accuracy of the M.I.L.K.? (Milk Indicator Level from Kitchenaid) What if the fridge is ignorant of some sort of catastrophically unanticipated increase in our milk requirements, like providing enough nog for the NPR Arts Information Unit staff holiday party? And this is not to mention the privacy issues. What if the Department of Social Services learns about our failure to keep our child’s bones strong through maintenance of an adequate dairy supply?
As fascinating as the topic is, one has to wonder why Sydell keeps milking it. Is there a sour note here? Does she have some udder motivation to constantly call our attention to the national tragedy of our milk ignorance? Your humble blogger has discovered there exists not only a “Sydell” brand goat-milking stand, but also a “Sydell Spa” brand milk-based facial cleanser. Coincidences? You, dear reader, or better yet the NPR ombudsperson, can make that call. (Memo to FOX News: get Juan Williams on this, please! What else does he have to do? Oh wait, I forgot, FOX News doesn’t do actual journalism.)
I suppose it could be personal. Does Laura live several hours from the nearest milk provisioner? Is she exhausted from wasting entire days when she returns home for a nice virgin White Russian only to find that the fiendishly opaque milk carton, when hurriedly opened with that funny little cap they all have now, reveals nothing but her hopes and dreams? Everyone knows you can’t drink those, unless you are newly-appointed house speaker John Boehner.
Or perhaps this is the consumer technology equivalent of what Reagan termed the “soft-serve bigotry” of lowfat expectations. How can any careful observer not be disappointed by the state of consumer technology? I, too, am cowed by the fact that here we are in 2011 and we still have no warp drives, no teleportation, no clean and infinite fusion power, pretty much nothing we were promised by the imagineers of the greatest generation 50 years ago. (Except, of course, that stupid Facebook game that Isaac Asimov predicted in his speculative novel “I, Time-Wasting Fake Farmer” in 1947.)
Maybe, just maybe, if we can do this one stupid thing, if we can just have a refrigerator that can put a cussing update on our cussing Facebook wall to tell us how much cuss-damned milk we have, maybe we can, as President Kennedy promised in his stirring oration announcing the Apollo program, “do the other things” too. Was it Browning who said “Man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?”
Alright, dammit, I’m on board! I’ve talked myself into it! From this day forward I hereby dare to believe that one day, in some shining Sydellian Utopia, we’ll even have a fridge that can tell us when it’s time to buy more Half and Half.
Good luck in Vegas, Laura! Those of us who dive for dreams are counting on you!
“Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen.” – Ludwig Wittgenstein
Loosely translated: “About which we cannot speak, we must remain silent.” In other words if you don’t have something intelligent or useful to say, just be quiet.
If Public Radio lived by Ludwig’s rule then some things would change. “Speaking of Faith” would have been called “Not Speaking of Faith” and would have consisted of an hour of blessed silence. Of course that show, which I think I’ve mentioned once or twice on this blog, has been born again as “Krista Tippett on Being.” It would have to become “Krista Tippett on Nothing,” which can only be an improvement.
But the main thing that would happen, freeing up countless hours of currently wasted time, is that NPR would have to cease its breathless, obsessive handicapping of upcoming elections. I have railed against the horse-race nature of what passes for political coverage on NPR several times before but, shockingly, it appears to be having no effect. In fact things are getting worse.
How many radio hours have been wasted in the last month breathlessly poring over the latest poll numbers and pre-announcing the imminent demise of the Democratic majority? Even more than the number of hours spent during the approach of last year’s “nothing to see here” off-year elections. Remember how it was supposed to be a big revolution?
I have three explanations for the amount of blather on this topic. First of all the press thrives on reporting on conflict and change, so the prospect of party turnover interests them far more than what the new party in power will actually try to do. Second the coverage of polls is a low risk for them politically because they’re just talking about poll results so they can go on for hours without worrying about appearing to be, God forbid, non objective.
Finally it’s easy. Which makes me think they are lazy. It’s like filler. “Hey, guys, can you fill up ten minutes talking about poll results?” “No problem!!”
Renee Montagne interviewed Gary Trudeau today on Morning Edition about the last 40 years of Doonesbury. They jawed on quite a bit about the characters, especially B.D., the veteran who lost a leg in Iraq. Somehow the lengthy (almost 8 minute) piece failed to talk about politics.
Now I know it’s not polite to talk about religion or politics AT A DINNER PARTY, but this is a news show. How is it that a normally politically obsessed radio program avoids talking politics with the guy who changed the comics page forever by invading it with explicit political cartoon content? (Sadly he thereby paved the way for such luminaries as “Mallard Fillmore.”) That’s really the main thing about Doonesbury, right? It’s like interviewing Bob Dylan and only talking about his Christmas album.
Thinking about why Montagne was so careful not to mention politics in this context (or to include a single example of the strip’s outright political content in the collection of strips on display at the NPR website) I realized the explanation holds the key to many of NPR’s journalistic failings.
What we listeners want from journalism is passionate investigation to discover truths that matter to us.
Let’s break that sentence down contextually. “Passionate” means we want journalists to take their profession seriously, maybe more seriously than many yuppie parents of young children are capable of. (See Studs Terkel on this topic.) This means putting their careers and even lives at risk when necessary. “Investigation” means to use skills, contacts and other resources we laypeople don’t have. “Discover” means that the information we receive should be new and non-obvious. “Truth” means the discovered information should shape the story, not other way around. “Mattering” in this case could simply mean quenching our curiosity, but it could also mean inspiring us to change our vote, whistle-blow at our job, or do something nice for the family of a deployed soldier.
If we use that carefully worded sentence as a set of filtering criteria for news stories, and we require all stories to meet all of the terms, 90% of nightly news stories fail. 100% of FOX News stories fail. I’d say something like 60% of NPR stories fail. That last is actually pretty good, but only by comparison to the dismal performance of everyone else.
One of the key terms that stories fail to meet these days is “investigation”. What are the recent stories most passionately investigated by NPR? They are all about wounded veterans, and most of those are by Danny Zwerdling. While I would criticize some of the content of those stories because Zwerdling has a preconceived narrative that he tends to impose, his investigations are clearly passionate. But they’re not risky. Everyone wants veterans to get all the help they need – or at least everyone who can recall the fact that we are at war.
And that’s why Montagne felt so comfortable talking about Doonesbury’s own wounded warrior: no controversy but loads of human interest even if the human is imaginary.
Meanwhile the Doonesbury strips that really mattered over the last decade were the many that effectively challenged the conventional wisdom coming out of the White House, especially regarding the Iraq war. It was on that topic that the news media, NPR included, failed us to the point of debasing our very democratic principles.
It’s no coincidence that even now NPR is too timid to talk to (let’s be frank) a mere cartoonist about that particular part of his career and our recent national history.