Friday, March 28, 2008

WWWWW&H—What is News?

WHAT IS NEWS?

• News is timely (new!)
• News is nearby (proximity: 1. geographic; 2. what other kinds?)
• News is about prominent/important people/things (who/what is “important,” and to whom?)
• News is about human beings (human interest; children, baby ducks and puppies)
• News involves conflict, tension, competition, disagreement.
• News is the weird, novel and unusual (“Gee whiz!”; Man bites dog.)
• News has impact, consequence; it is relevant/important/useful to people’s lives (selective perception; “News you can use.”)

Writing News: The Fred Rule.

When I was a new reporter, covering Belchertown, Mass., for the now-defunct Holyoke Transcript-Telegram, I got an important and profane lesson from my editor on how to write a lead on deadline. Or any time, for that matter.

With less than 20 minutes to go before deadline, I still had the major story on the previous night's selectmen’s (city council) meeting to do. Editor Matt Zowadowski was a blue-collar journalist who had no patience for “college pansies.” He was yelling at me to get my *&^&%$#$%^&@!!@!! selectmen's story in, fergawdsales!!! “What is your $%^&^%$#@@@#%^&$^&!!!!!!? PROBLEM, Pease?” he was spitting on my desk.

The problem, I told him, waving a thick handful of agenda at him, was that the Belchertown selectmen had met until 11:30 the night before. The agenda was a monster, with 27 action items on it. There was zoning. There was development. There was a barking-dog ordinance. There was that bridge on Hwy. 10....

“JEEE-ZUS!” Zowadowski bellowed. “Didn’t they teach you ANYTHING up at the college, you %^&*(*&^%$#@@%^%$#$%!!! pansy?”

It's not F&*()*&^%$!ing rocket science, he said, putting his loafer in the middle of my desk and leaning in.

“Who the F@#^&Y^%$# gives a shit about 27 $%^&*(&^% agenda items?” he whispered. “Look. You come out of city hall and there's your best friend, Fred, on the sidewalk. And Fred says, ‘What’s up?’ Do you say, ‘Well, the selectmen met for 4-1/2 hours and carefully considered 27 f*^%$#@!ing agenda items...?’ Hell, no. You tell Fred, ‘Those sonsuvbitches are going to raise our taxes again.’ That’s your lead. So what the hell happened last night?”

I don’t remember what the Belchertown selectmen did at that meeting (or any others), but I remember Fred and Matt Zowadowski. Great advice: They’re going to raise our f*%@#&*ing taxes again. Works every time.

Organizing the story: What do you know? What’s most important? (WHY?) Rank-order the information in descending order of importance.

W
W
W
W
W
H

WHO did WHAT? WHERE? WHEN? (WHY?) (HOW?)

(see p. 149 in the Mizzou text)

Accidental Language

Sloppy language use and imprecise word choice can make you sound incredibly stoopid. As Mark Twain said, the difference between the right word and the almost right word is like the difference between lightning and lightning bug...

These quotes were culled by the Toronto Sun from real-world insurance claims, in which claimants were asked to describe in their own words what had happened in their auto accidents. One lesson is this: when in Canada, take the bus. Or a tank.

Enjoy.

• “A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.”

• “A truck backed through my windshield into my wife’s face.”

• “An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my vehicle and vanished.”

• “As I approached the intersection, a stop sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before. I was unable to stop in time to avoid the accident.”

• “Coming home, I drove into the wrong house ands collided with a tree I don’t have.”

• “I collided with a stationary truck coming the other way.”

• “I had been shopping for plants all day and was on my way home. As I reached an intersection, a hedge sprang up obscuring my vision. I did not see the other car.”

• “I have been driving my car for 40 years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident.”

• “I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law, and headed over the embankment.”

• “I saw the slow-moving, sad-faced old gentleman as he bounced off the hood of my car.”

• “I thought my window was down, but found out it was up when I put my hand through it.”

• “I told the police that I was not injured but on removing my hat I found that I had a skull fracture.”

• “I was on my way to the doctor’s with rear-end trouble when my universal joint gave way, causing me to have an accident.”

• “I was sure the old fellow would never make it to the other side of the road when I struck him.”

• “I was thrown from my car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows.”

• “In my attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole.”

• “My car was legally parked as it backed into the other vehicle.”

• “The guy was all over the road. I had to swerve a number of times before I hit him.”

• “The indirect cause of this accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.”

• “The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intentions.”

• “The pedestrian had no idea which direction to go, so I ran over him.”

• “The telephone pole was approaching fast. I was attempting to swerve out of its path when it struck my front end.”

• “To avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front, I struck the pedestrian.”


I knew there had to be a good explanation....

Objectivity

About Objectivity
An Essay by Ted Pease
©1992

“Show me a man who thinks he’s objective and I’ll show you a man who’s deceiving himself.”
Henry Luce, founder, Time magazine

In his book, Discovering the News, Michael Schudson (1978) focuses on concepts of objectivity, the journalist’s need for self-justification, for distance between himself and events, in a sense, the same kind of distance that the savvy politician would call “deniability.” The question is what that means in the context of the times in which a journalist works, the shifting sands of definitions and perceptions of news and the role of the press in a society. The struggle is between values and fact, between opinion and information, the former in each case being somehow more suspect, less dependable, than the latter.

Why, Schudson asks, should journalists be objective? Objectivity assumes some kind of yardstick, an objective (that is certified, unassailable, uniform and universally accepted) measure against which to gauge a thing. In the hard sciences, such measures predominate — temperatures, densities, velocities, masses, frequencies and so on. In the law, objective measures are ordained, but no less absolute: legislated and adjudicated regulations against which to assess individual circumstances.

Schudson excuses journalists from the kind of professionalism exercised by doctors, lawyers and scientists, saying that the press has no “apparatus” by which to guarantee objectivity. I would disagree. The press of the 1990s certainly has many of the same kinds of “apparatuses” that ensure professionalism in those other fields — extensive training, professional standards, examinations, competition, public scrutiny and peer review (albeit no licensure). The difference is in the field itself. Unlike hard science — an ever-growing body of knowledge based on some immutable bedrock of basic and unchanging facts — and the law — evolving from a framework of basic and constant rules and beliefs — journalism makes its home in the ever-changing arena, or marketplace, of ideas and beliefs that is society. Where the law and the hard sciences have constants against which to measure developments, no such yardstick can exist in journalism, a “science” of human psychology in a constantly changing environment where yesterday’s judgments may not hold today and where one practitioner’s unit of measure is unlike any other. Unlike science, where facts are assumed to be absolute, and the law, which distinguished between legal or technical questions and moral or value judgments, in journalism it simply isn’t possible to separate facts from an individual journalist’s personal value structure. There is the difference.

The concept of objectivity is by nature elitist; it assumes that there is one “truth,” a correct answer. Where there is a yardstick by which to measure, such an assumption may be understandable — water does, after all, boil at 212 degrees Farenheit (except under certain conditions...); U.S. civil law does not permit someone to take his neighbor’s new car (except under certain conditions...), etc. These are not elitist standards but they are more or less absolute. Professional objectivity is in some ways a moral philosophy or standard by which to live, an acknowledgement of whose standards by which to judge one’s own actions and behavior. Such objective standards are undergirded by social controls, such as education and training to achieve sufficient knowledge by which to make judgments acceptable by acknowledged standards, and social distance — insulation from public pressures, professional autonomy and independence from societal whim, as well as the professional’s personal insulation from his or her own values. Further, desire for objectivity assumes distrust of the individual, of the self.

What kind of journalist could espouse such objectivity, operating in a professional vacuum in reporting events as if from Olympus? Still, depending upon whose ox is being gored, the press is regularly derided for its lack of objectivity, as if being “objective” were either desirable or possible.

Through the last 200 years, in the evolution of the modern press ideal in America, concepts of professionalism and objectivity have changed with the marketplace and the society in which the marketplace exists. It is ironic that “objectivity” should be something after which so-called “professional journalists” have strived, because what it connotes is lack of individual judgment, reliance upon codified standards instead of critical thought, subordination of context, perspective and individuality in favor of rote and routine. What “objectivity” must mean for the journalist is fairness, balance and context in reporting facts about the day’s events. More than the Who-What-Where-When-How formula of hard news reportage — a formula that serves a valid and valuable function — is the necessary inclusion of Why in the equation: context, implications and meaning.

Lippmann in 1930 wrote that any society’s press will naturally evolve through four stages of development: From a government monopoly in the first stage, the press will move into a party stage, in which newspapers are controlled by partisan political forces; in the third stage, both government and partisan forces will be overtaken by commercial interests and the market, dominated by an increasingly large mass of readers. Lippmann’s fourth stage is “professional,” in which, through superior training and judgment, journalists would be free of (above?) the changing tastes and prejudices of the market and strive for “objective fact.” Such a view of press in society as a natural, evolutionary process necessarily assumes different perspectives on the role — desirability, even — of objectivity in the process.

In the 1830s, a democratized penny press (Lippmann’s third stage) infuriated and threatened the American aristocracy. Prior to the advent of the penny press, beginning with the arrival of the New York Sun in 1833, newspapers in America were either mercantile — serving the economic interests of the gentry — or party press — espousing particular political lines — or both. In either case, the press of the early 1800s served elites, both political and economic, and their content reflected their audiences and economic self-interests. Circulations were small and content was decided by market pressure and the intensely personal preferences of the editors or the political or mercantile interests that subsidized them. “Objectivity” clearly was no issue here, because content was defined as parochial and partisan.

With the increased democratization of American society in the early 19th century, more people were able to read, more people were concentrated in cities and technology was making it easier to produce larger numbers of newspapers. One outcome was a boom in the number of American papers (daily circulation quadrupled between 1830 and 1840) and a concomitant boom in audience. Newspapers of the penny press era concentrated less on partisan editorializing and more on news and “facts” of the day. One result, according to a disgusted aristocracy, was a shameful lack of decency and propriety in a press that had no regard for personal privacy. “If newspapers are useful in overthrowing tyrants,” wrote James Fenimore Cooper in 1838, “it is only to establish a tyranny of their own. The press tyrannizes over publick men, letters, the arts, the stage, and even over private life. Under the pretense of protecting publick morals, it is corrupting them to the core...”

Maybe so, but the penny press opened journalism to the public in a rush of printed democratization, publishing items of interest not to an elite audience of merchants and bankers, but to a general public. Content was market-driven, aimed at a reader who was a human being; advertising was limited only to those who could pay and editorial content was determined by events. Because the penny papers catered to no particular audience, they espoused no particular party line, instead actively striving to be indifferent to political news. As society in the 1830s and 1840s diversified, so did the content of the penny press, which attempted to represent events of the world colorfully but without partisanship, a fair definition of early “objective truth” in reporting. Schudson calls these journalists “naive empiricists.” They concentrated on timeliness, proximity and human interest, creating a news product of relevance to people living in the communities they served. Indeed, the penny papers saw as their function the reporting of everyday events, not because they were significant, but because they might become part of a larger, more significant context.

That increasing faith in “objective fact” evolved in the era of the penny press is no accident. It was also a period of “Jacksonian Democracy” in which American society evinced a growing faith in the common man, in political and economic opportunity and equality. Such a view of the citizenry required an presumption in favor of the democratic marketplace of ideas, assuming that, as Milton had written two centuries before, Truth would win out in a free and open encounter with Falsehood. In the process, readers were presented with “the facts, ma’am, just the facts,” without the embellishment of editorial comment. Although James Gordon Bennett and others of the penny press era recognized the necessity of providing context for “dull records of facts,” the emphasis was on simply providing the data for the reader’s own interpretation.

By the end of the 19th century, this belief in facts and distrust of editorial value judgment had evolved into the newspaper wars of Hearst and Pulitzer, in which embellishment of fact by editorial comment was unnecessary in view of the competing newspapers’ embellishment of facts themselves. Hearst’s famous alleged message to Frederic Remington in Havana that, “You furnish the pictures and I’ll furnish the war” is emblematic of the beating facts took during the yellow journalism period. While Hearst was obsessed with building circulation at any cost, other publishers, however, including Pulitzer, were more concerned that their newspapers presented the readers with a fair view of the world.

Of course, “fair” is open to interpretation; during this period, it was not uncommon for reporters to write in documentary form, true to facts but with as much intention of entertaining as informing. As newspapers evolved through the 19th century, however, so did the role of journalist and the expectations placed upon the reporter to live up to public standards of truth and decency in recounting of facts, while providing the public with entertainment.

At the same time, all-consuming desirability of facts resulted, by 1900, in what many reporters criticized as dry, “laundry list” journalism. Consistent with the age of realism and the mechanization of the industrial revolution, some writers of the period saw the predominance of fact as resulting in machine-like copy, colorless, humorless, personality-less, what Mencken later recalled as a craze for “mathematical accuracy.”

None of which was equated at the time with objectivity, a concept which must acknowledge the existence of individual subjectivity of perception, a non-issue in the race for facts and information.The assumption of the period was that facts were not a reporter’s statements about the world but rather empirical attributes of the world itself. But all that changed with World War I and the discovery of propaganda’s perceived power to affect what had been thought to absolute values — facts about the world. At this point, journalists began to differentiate between facts and values, a response to a world in which, suddenly, facts could not be trusted, where objective fact did not exist.

Ivy Lee, the first great pioneer of public relations, drew on Lippmann’s assessment that no individual can collect all the facts on a subject. Rather, Ivy said, all one could strive for was to give one’s own interpretation of the facts. For the first time, issues of perceptions and individual biases were recognized as influencing an individual’s ability to report “facts” about the world. How “facts” are perceived — and if they are perceived at all — which parts of those facts are retained and which are rejected and which facts are used and which are discarded in reporting “factually” about the world all must be recognized as factors in the reporting process.
Those calling for interpretation of facts on the part of reporters — what to the fact-oriented realists of the late 1800s would have been seen as a blurring of the news/opinion line they had tried so hard to draw — suggested that such critical assessment of information by the reporter was a means of providing the kind of context called for by the Hutchins Commission in 1947, a means of placing events in relation to broader trends.

In Public Opinion, Lippmann said the dilemma of journalists in the 1920s and ‘30s was in their awareness of individual subjectivity and the battle between personal values and individual selectivity, and the journalist’s responsibility to report and explain events. The concept of “objectivity” tried to provide a framework in which reporters could work and readers could believe. Lippmann saw inability of reporters to transmit reliable information to the public as a threat to democracy, a threat posed, in part, by the subjectivity of facts. Without reliable information, he said, news is all second-hand, and society responds not to facts, but to opinions, what he called the “pseudo-environment” of news accounts. The answer, Lippmann thought, was in professional training, codified standards, a “science” of journalistic method.

Part of the fear stemmed from the success of Lee and others to place what was perceived as slanted information directly before the public through the press. First big business and then big government became adroit at managing the news, to the degree that journalists in the 1930s accused the FDR administration of censoring information and disseminating propaganda, serious charges in the era of perceived media maximum effects. The fear that government press officers insulated officials from the public and hindered journalists in getting at the truth was one of Luce’s motivations in setting up the Hutchins Commission; behind the fear about institutional manipulation of the news was the question of not just what objective fact was true, but whose objective fact.

Perhaps the low-water mark came during the McCarthy era, when the press, uncertain of its ability to shift “facts” and get at truth, permitted itself to be manipulated into publishing every charge and accusation as objective fact, on the basis that since McCarthy had made the statements — however inflammatory — they existed as fact. Reporters, locked into reporting all events as fact without interpretation or context and fearful of violating their traditional mandate to report “objectively” without inserting their own “biases,” simply repeated McCarthy’s statements without investigating or even commenting on whether they were true.

Distrust of institutionally manufactured “news,” what Boorstin called “pseudo-events,” spread beyond the journalists’ ranks to the general public in the 1960s and the critical society of the Vietnam era. Social activism was based on individual critical assessment of not only social institutions but on a reappraisal of the “truths” that had been held to be self-evident. Distrust of the government in the early ’70s reached nearly 60 percent and voters participated more critically in the election process, questioning and evaluating candidates who, in earlier times, would have been elected or defeated merely on the basis of party affiliation. Journalists also reassessed their performance, their role in the society and their long-held “security blanket” of objectivity.

Chief among the criticisms of the traditional premise of journalistic objectivity was that “news” is biased in its basic institutional definitions, in its form and structure, and in its dependence on official sources. Jack Newfield suggested that the institutional mind-set in which journalists operate creates initial biases in the professional values which all journalists espouse, while claiming total objectivity. These ingrown biases are not just societal — Western values, the Puritan work ethic, belief in God, home and hearth — and inculcated from birth, but are also institutionalized in terms of biases defining what is and isn’t news. Second, reliance on the observable fact results in dominance of events over processes, which necessarily favors institutions able to control events or stage “pseudo-events” and ignores more complicated and slippery issues of context and implications. Third, the constraints of newsgathering, in which reporters become tools of news sources, means that “fact” is whatever an official says it is. Attribution of “fact” to an official source is a means of self-protection against mistakes and criticism in the guise of objective reporting that relegates reporters to the role of stenographers who do little more than to regurgitate the party line du jour, thus absolving themselves both of blame and of responsibility.

Journalism at the end of the 20th century has taken these traits to their extremes, watering down the New York Times’ credo of “All the News That’s Fit to Print” into “All the News That’s Safe and Easy” (and profitable). Although all journalists would say they subscribe to the Hutchins Commission enunciation of a journalistic social responsibility, in which facts are reported in a context that gives them meaning, such is very seldom the case. On the one hand, reporters recognize that they cannot be mere conduits of pure facts flowing from the world to readers and listeners; at the same time, however, “facts” as defined by official statements, quotes on the record and “pseudo-events” — interviews, press conferences, speeches — are safe and easy news to report. Taking the first half of that statement, “objectivity” is largely out of vogue and the revisionist definition of the reporter’s function (“What we meant was balanced, fair and even-handed.”) acknowledges some of the criticisms suggested above. Individuals are accepted as having their own selective perceptions of the world around them, perceptions developed through their individual backgrounds, socio-economic status, upbringing and development.

Generally, acknowledgement of the inevitable bias that results from individual perceptions is the best that journalists can expect; since individuals see the world differently, then, objective reporting becomes balanced reporting based not on one’s own judgments of relative importance of fact but on someone else’s assessments. This is the journalistic equivalent of political deniability mentioned at the outset: Since I know my own perceptions to be skewed, let’s take information direct from the horse’s mouth, thus avoiding any appearance that my own prejudices have slanted the story in transit from the world to the reader. The point that this “safety” measure misses — beyond the obvious biases of the official source — is that selection of which information to hear, which source to use, which of his or her statements to include in reporting and which to discard, are also biased decisions. Although they are decisions made with the intention of impartiality, they are no less skewed and much less honest than those of a reporter who applies his or her own critical processes to events and interprets them for the reader in the context of other facts. More of a threat than issues of personal selectivity — if not to some ideal of presenting facts about the world to the audience, then to the entire democratic process and the press’s function in it — is that there are woefully few ideas left in the media marketplace of ideas. Reliance on official sources and staged “events” to the exclusion of critical evaluation and reporting in meaningful context may have reached an all-time high (or low) in the 1988 presidential campaign, with the press and the electorate at the mercy of candidate handlers’ and spin-doctors’ sanctioned sound bites, photo ops and scheduled appearances. Although that issue is more correctly one of press performance and not of objectivity per se, the press’s co-optation by its near-exclusive reliance on repeated posed and cynical images of giant American flags, candidates in tanks and meaningless sloganism (“Read my lips.” “The L word.” “A thousand points of light.”) raised the same fears for the democratic process that had been voiced in the 1940s and ’50s. Despite acknowledgement of the inevitability of individual subjectivity in the newsgathering process and journalistic lip-service to social responsibility theory, the fact of press performance in the 1990s is still adherence to the practices developed when objectivity was the goal. Reported “facts” are not truth about the world but accepted as gospel because they come from an official source. Interpretation is rejected for fear of going too far out on a limb and appearing to lose the guise of journalistic impartiality.

Thus, the press of the 1990s seems to have gotten stuck somewhere between Lippmann’s third stage — commercial press driven by market pressures — and a still-illusive fourth stage — a “professional” press unswayed by external influences. Stage 3.5 is one in which journalists — and their customers in the marketplace of ideas — are driven almost exclusively by both market and source pressures to the exclusion of anything like the ideal of objectivity — reliance on fact — and wholly untainted by the murky waters of critical evaluation, interpretation and independent appraisal of the world.

See Michael Schudson, Discovering the News: A Social History of American Newspapers. (New York: Basic Books, 1978).

Free Expression and Civil Rights—An Historical Overview

PHILOSOPHICAL UNDERPINNINGS OF FREE EXPRESSION IN SOCIETY
By Edward C. Pease
©1991

[Excerpted from Pease, E.C., STILL THE INVISIBLE PEOPLE: Job Satisfaction of Minority Journalists at U.S. Daily Newspapers (Athens, Ohio: E.W. Scripps School of Journalism, 1991)]

In a society based on individual rights and participation, democracy may be defined as a process of dialogue among all constituent groups. The philosophy on which this nation was founded holds as central to its basic democratic structure the importance of the individual vis a vis society. This includes a presumption of the individual’s power of rational thought and concepts of individual natural rights – including religion, speech and press.[1] These concepts were the prevailing notions of Locke, Milton, Mill, Paine and other 17th- and 18th-century thinkers whose writings combined eventually into marketplace-of-ideas theory, from which the First Amendment developed.

Central to the theory is the entirely free and unfettered exchange of ideas, including a free press operating within a social system in which all opinions had equal chance to be heard, the assumption being that truth would emerge from a robust and wide-open debate on issues of public importance. As Milton put it in his Areopagitica, “Let Her and Falsehood grapple; who ever heard of Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?”[2] From Milton’s perspective, and that of other libertarians, it was preferable to permit false opinion in the marketplace of ideas than to limit open exchange of ideas, any one of which might contain or lead to truth; free discussion was a self-righting process from which truth eventually would emerge. As social philosopher Carl Becker explained it:

The democratic doctrine of freedom of speech and of the press ... rests upon certain assumptions. One of these is that men desire to know the truth and will be disposed to be guided by it. Another is that the sole method of arriving at the truth in the long run is by the free competition of opinion in the open market. Another is that, since men will invariably differ in their opinions, each man must be permitted to urge, freely and even strenuously, his own opinion, provided he accords others the same right. And the final assumption is that from this mutual toleration and comparison of diverse opinions the one that seems the most rational will emerge and be generally accepted.[3]

Drawing on the work of his father, James Mill, and that of Jeremy Bentham, John Stuart Mill’s brand of 17th-century libertarianism was pragmatic and utilitarian: To achieve the greatest good for the greatest number in society, he said, society must insure that all its members have the right to think and act for themselves. Limiting expression, Mill suggested, would limit society members’ ability to think for themselves. Mill made a four-part argument: First, suppressing opinions – however disagreeable they might be to others – might result in suppressing the truth, he said. Second, even an erroneous opinion might contain a kernel of truth, leading to the larger truth. Third, even if the generally held opinion is truth, the public may cling to it irrationally, solely because of rote and tradition, unless forced to defend it. Finally, Mill said, unless the commonly held opinion is challenged occasionally and those holding it are forced to reaffirm it, even truth loses its strength and positive effects on individuals and society.[4]

As Mill wrote in his essay, On Liberty:

If all mankind minus one were of one opinion, and only one person were of the contrary opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person than he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind. ... If the opinion is right, [people] are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth; if wrong, they lose what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error.[5]

By the beginning of the 20th century, however, pure libertarianism was on the wane as newspapers and other media grew in size and influence, and the concept of the wide-open debate among individuals was supplanted by the reality of mass communication driven by technological advances. Public resentment of the size, scope, influence and excesses of the press gave rise to efforts to legislate limits on them; the media’s occasionally irresponsible exercise of their First Amendment freedom thus threatened all rights of individual free expression. Media scholar Theodore Peterson argues in his seminal Four Theories of the Press that, just as libertarian theory was founded on the principle of a “negative freedom” – that is, freedom from external restraint – new thinking in the 20th century saw a need for a press both free from restraints but also responsible to larger society.[6] What became known after publication of the Hutchins Commission report as social responsibility theory rests equally on a negative freedom from restraints, as well as on a positive freedom of the press to be proactive – freedom for social good, freedom to help society attain its goals.[7] J. Edward Gerald agreed: “Mass communications media are social institutions, the product of social demand,” which include predictable expectations of performance.[8]

The new social responsibility perspective of the press added to libertarianism the concept of the public’s right to know, at the same time placing moral responsibilities on publishers, who themselves had begun to link responsibility to overall public good with their constitutionally mandated freedom. Because liberty carries with it obligations, the greater freedom accorded the press in a democratic system carries with it responsibilities to fulfill certain functions in society.[9]

Leading newspaper publishers already had come to similar conclusions on their own regarding the role of the press in the new, industrial age. Joseph Pulitzer, legendary publisher of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, told his staff in 1907 that his paper should be

an institution that should always fight for progress and reform, never tolerate injustice and corruption, always fight demagogues of all parties, never belong to any party, always oppose privileged classes and public plunderers, never lack sympathy with the poor, always remain devoted to the public welfare, never be satisfied with merely printing news, always be drastically independent, never be afraid to attack wrong, whether by predatory plutocracy or predatory poverty.[10]

In the inaugural issue of his Detroit Evening News in 1873, James Scripps enunciated a similar vision of the role of the crusading press that was reminiscent of Milton:

Nineteenth Century Americans need not have their opinions molded for them by the newspaper press. Give the public the facts and arguments on both sides, and they will quickly determine the right or wrong in each case as it occurs. The vox populi, in the long run, will pretty certainly be found to be the vox Dei.[11]

His younger brother, E.W. Scripps, in his first issue of the Cleveland Penny Press in 1878, addressed these same issues of independence from special interest pressures and voiced libertarian confidence in the rational abilities of the reading public. He wrote: “The newspapers should simply present all the facts the editor is capable of obtaining, concerning men and measures before the bar of the public, and then, after having discharged its duty as a witness, be satisfied to leave the jury in the case – the public –to find the verdict.”[12]

Adolph S. Ochs, upon assuming control of The New York Times in 1860, had a similar vision for his paper: “. . . to give the news impartially, without fear or favor, regardless of party, sect or interest involved; to make the columns of the New York Times a forum for the consideration of all public questions of importance and, to that end, to invite intelligent discussion for all shades of opinion.”[13]

But despite the sensibilities of publishers such as Pulitzer, Scripps and Ochs, as the press grew in size and influence, it came under increasing criticism. By 1900, the criticisms had fallen into seven basic themes:

1) The press and its press barons had wielded power to their own ends, at the expense of opposing views and discussion.

2) The press had become subservient to big business and advertisers.

3) The press resisted social change.

4) The press stressed the superficial and sensational over the significant.

5) Press content endangered public morals.

6) The press invaded individuals’ privacy.

7) And the press was controlled by a single socioeconomic class, further endangering any chance for robust and wide-open debate in the free and open marketplaces of ideas.[14]

Following World War II, the American public was frightened by the images of thought manipulation through mass communication, brought on by the Nazi propaganda machine. Those fears, coupled with the growth of the mass communications industry and the social and technological changes that followed the industrial revolution, led Henry R. Luce, founder and publisher of Time, to commission a group of scholars in 1947 to examine the prospects for a free press in America.

The Hutchins Commission

Echoing Mill, the chairman of the Commission on Freedom of the Press, Robert M. Hutchins of the University of Chicago, described concerns about the role of the mass media in the 20th century this way: “The tremendous influence of the modern press makes it imperative that the great agencies of mass communication show hospitality to ideas which their owners do not share. Otherwise, these ideas will not have a fair chance.”[15]

The commission said freedom of the press in 1946 was in danger for three reasons. First, the press’s importance to society had increased with its capacity to communicate to mass audiences; at the same time, however, the proportion of people able to communicate their opinions and ideas through the press had decreased. Second, those with access to the press “have not provided a service adequate to the needs of society,” the commission said. Third, press performance had so outraged some segments of society in the 1940s that threats of regulation had surfaced.[16] The commission said:

When an instrument of prime importance to all the people is available to a small minority of the people only, and when it is employed by that small minority in such a way as not to supply the people with the service they require, the freedom of the minority in employment of that instrument is in danger.[17]

More precisely, Gerald wrote, as the press evolved into big business, its priorities also shifted, from dissemination of diverse ideas to bottom-line economic issues. The Hutchins Commission concluded that such emphasis on profits threatened the media’s likelihood of providing “the variety of information and debate that the people need for self-government,” he said. Further, he said,

[i]n such media, entertainment takes precedence over matters of importance to social understanding and self-government. The urgencies of conciliation between nations and between racial and religious groups at home are minimized or overlooked by media with such a distributive goal. Salestalk through advertising and propaganda in the news constitutes a hazard to clear description and understanding of human problems.[18]

Press barons for years had recognized that shift themselves. E.W. Scripps, for instance, who never was shy about making a buck, wrote a year before his death in 1926:

There was a time in this country when newspapers were run for the purpose of moulding public opinion and their owners were deemed lucky if they gained an incidental profit. Now newspapers are run for profit and only incidentally are moulders of public opinion, leaders of the people in politics, and teachers.[19]

The Hutchins Commission considered free expression the central freedom of American democracy, but feared that a press seen by public and government as both unfettered and irresponsible risked losing its First Amendment franchise. To preserve its freedom, the report concluded, the press must serve the society that has accorded it that freedom. “The freedom of the press can remain a right of those who publish only if it incorporates into itself the right of the citizen and the public interest,” the commission wrote.[20] After four years of hearings, the Hutchins Commission released a five-point guideline for press performance that represented a new view of the relationship between the mass media and society. The American press should provide

1) a truthful, comprehensive and intelligent account of the day’s events in a context which gives them meaning;

2) a forum for the exchange of comment and criticism;

3) a representative picture of the constituent groups in the society;

4) presentation and clarification of the goals and values of the society; and

5) full access to the day’s intelligence.[21]

Consistent with the thinking of some newspaper leaders, as indicated by the statements of Ochs, Scripps and Pulitzer, the recommendations outlining changes in the way journalists should look at their jobs and at the media’s role in society. The five points also provide the first of two frameworks here for evaluating press practices and performance.

The Hutchins Commission Charge to the Press

The Hutchins Commission’s guidelines were, on the one hand, direct, straight-forward and commonsensical. At the same time, they enunciated a press function from which the media had sometimes strayed: “The first requirement is that the media should be truthful. They should not lie,” the commission report said.[22] The commission also cautioned the press to separate fact from opinion, while acknowledging that that requirement cannot be absolute: “There is no fact without context and no factual report which is uncolored by the opinions of the reporter.”[23]

The second recommendation, that the press provide “a forum for the exchange of comment and criticism,” underscored the commission’s view of the media’s responsibility as “common carriers of public discussion.”[24] These public discussions should include even – perhaps especially – ideas with which the media owners might not agree. “Their control over the various ways of reaching the ear of America is such that, of they do not publish ideas which differ from their own, those ideas will never reach the ear of America,” the report said.[25]

The third recommendation, particularly relevant to the issue of minorities and the media, underlined the media’s responsibility to present “a representative picture of the constituent groups in the society.”[26] “People make decisions in large part in terms of favorable or unfavorable images,” the report said. “They relate fact and opinion to stereotypes. [The media] are principal agents in creating and perpetuating these conventional conceptions. When the images they portray fail to present the social group truly, they tend to pervert judgment.”[27] Such representations of all segments of the American society was seen as a means toward greater understanding and harmony: “The Commission holds to the faith that if people are exposed to the inner truth of the life of a particular group, they will gradually build up respect for and understanding of it.”[28]

The fourth press function, as the Hutchins Commission saw it, was one of education, “the presentation and clarification of the goals and values of the society.”[29] The press had both an opportunity and a responsibility to help maintain community standards and preserve the society’s values. Finally, the commission said, the press must provide the public with “full access to the day’s intelligence,” something with which no journalist would disagree. “We do not assume that all citizens at all times will actually use all the material they receive. ... But [that] does not alter the need for wide distribution of news and opinion,” the report said. The press must provide the public with enough complete and truthful information that citizens can, “by the exercise of reason and of conscience,” make the decisions necessary to maintain an orderly society, the commission concluded.[30]

After 1947, the press reassessed its role and responsibilities, increasingly operating from the Hutchins Commission’s vision of a two-way relationship between the press and society, encompassing both the rights of free expression ascribed to Milton and marketplace-of-ideas theory, as well as a new expectation of the media’s responsibility to the social system that had accorded such rights. In one way, however, little had changed, the commission report said: “We need a market place for the exchange of comment and criticism regarding public affairs. We need to reproduce on a gigantic scale the open argument which characterized the village gathering two centuries ago.”[31]

In the Hutchins Commission’s view, press freedom was balanced by the press’s responsibility as a public servant. “We suggest that the press look upon itself as performing a public service of a professional kind. ... that the press must take on the community’s objectives as its own objectives.” [emphasis original][32]

It was with this image of the media-as-public servant that America entered the 1960s and their growing clamor for racial equity. In very many ways, the events of that decade represented the first test of the Hutchins Commission vision of press performance. It was a test the media failed.

Press Performance in the Civil Rights Context

The summer of 1967 forced America finally to acknowledge a spreading sickness within its society that most Americans had done their best to ignore. Certainly, violence and “inter-racial unpleasantness”[33] already had accompanied the Civil Rights movement; since Rosa Parks, resolutely clutching sacks and purse, had refused to move to the rear of that bus in the mid-sixties, the numbers of both blacks and whites recognizing discrepancies between the Bill of Rights and American social reality had grown.

After the Civil Rights marches and demonstrations of 1964-66, largely in the South, the urban violence that rocked the country in 1967 should have come as no surprise to American society. But it did. “The summer of 1967 again brought racial disorders to American cities, and with them shock, fear and bewilderment to the nation,” the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders recorded in 1968. “Discrimination and segregation have long permeated much of American life; they now threaten the future of every American.”[34]

The violence of June and July 1967 swept inner-city neighborhoods in more than 27 cities from Florida to New York, Massachusetts to Michigan, Illinois to Missouri. The issue was race and opportunity; the reason, the Kerner Commission concluded, was America’s inexorable movement “toward two societies, one black, one white – separate and unequal.”[35]

In July 1967, President Lyndon B. Johnson appointed the 11-member panel that would be known as the Kerner Commission to look into the root causes of the violence sweeping America. The threat, said the president, was “the continuing polarization of the American community and, ultimately, the destruction of basic democratic values.”[36] LBJ’s charge to the commission was three-fold and simple: “What happened? Why did it happen? What can be done to prevent it from happening again?”[37] In appointing his blue-ribbon commission, President Johnson delivered this charge:

...The only genuine, long-range solution for what has happened lies in an attack – mounted at every level – upon conditions that breed despair and violence. All of us know what those conditions are: ignorance, discrimination, slums, poverty, disease, not enough jobs. We should attack these conditions – not because we are frightened by conflict, but because we are fired by conscience. We should attack them because there is simply no other way to achieve a decent and orderly society in America. [38]

Over the next nine months, the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders undertook what remains among the most comprehensive and wide-ranging sociological studies ever of American society. The result was a compelling laundry list of recommendations for America’s people and institutions. High among them were recommendations and blame for the news media, which – the panel found – had shown a systemic institutional myopia toward the plight of minorities in American cities on nearly every level.

Entrenched American Attitudes Toward Race

As the Kerner Commission report acknowledges, the events of the summer of 1967 were not just the next stage of the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, but rather the logical culmination of American attitudes toward persons of color that dated back three centuries.

Since 1776, when every sixth person in the newborn United States was a slave, nonwhites – blacks in particular – have had to come to terms with their de facto status as second-class citizens in American culture. The Declaration of Independence holds that all men are created equal, but rarely in America’s history has this seemed true in practice. In 1896, the U.S. Supreme Court in Plessy v. Ferguson approved a state law recognizing the legality of “separate but equal” facilities, acknowledging segregation by race as an established fact by law as well as by practice. Separate but equal extended not only to the lunchrooms, restrooms, buses, hospital and churches well known from events of the 1950s and ’60s, but to the law and death; in many courtrooms, whites and blacks were administered the oath on separate Bibles, and, even in death, “undertakers for Negroes” aided survivors in burying their dead in cemeteries far from the burial plots of whites.[39]

And the violence occurring in the mid-1960s was nothing new, although for the most part, Americans had tried to ignore the black underclass; in most communities in both the North and South, “Negroes” were invisible to whites. By the 1960s, a pattern had long been set between American society’s dominant whites and the black underclass. Conditions were ripe for open revolt, and some historians and contemporary commentators point out that, had the violence of 1963-1968 been more systematic and organized, America might have seen a new civil war, based on race, that could have threatened the Union along the same lines as does the sectarian violence of Northern Ireland or Lebanon today.[40] Three sociologists examining the violence of the mid-60s wrote,

There was a people who had outgrown their slave history, but not its bonds. Though they were “free” under the law, blacks were still slaves to a political, economic and social system that would not acknowledge them as free. Forced to live in the ghetto tenements that were the government’s 20th century equivalent of slave shacks, the “projects,” given second-class status in education, jobs, their role in American society, blacks in the 1960s were little better off than their fathers had been under “massuh.” [41]

In March 1965, nationally syndicated columnist Alice Widener described the growing racial conflicts as a threat to the nation’s middle-class morality. Widener’s column expressed a view not uncommon among whites, either in the 1960s or before, a sort of tremulous hand-wringing that was one response of a white American society that didn’t understand why black Americans were so dissatisfied. “Our nation is in the throes of a social revolution, and nobody can predict whether we will be the better or worse for it,” she wrote. That was in 1965, two years before the worst of the urban violence that spawned the Kerner Commission. The society’s narrowness of view and lack of understanding of the conditions and pressures under which blacks in America lived and had long lived were manifest in Widener’s statement that “future historians ... [will] have to determine why it was that a nation grown so great as ours is today was plunged into such disorder.”[42]

That “disorder” was the civil rights movement and the freedom marches of Alabama, Mississippi and other largely Southern states. Like Alice Widener, most of white America didn’t understand.

Los Angeles in 1965 was an example of how much white America – and the white press – didn’t understand. What began as a traffic infraction grew into days of widespread rioting and looting in Watts. John D. Lowry, UPI bureau chief in Los Angeles in 1965, recalled it this way:

The enormity of Negro rioting that erupted in South Los Angeles Aug. 11 caught by surprise a city that had been proud of its race relations. ... In a holocaust that kept the city tense for more than a week, 37 lives were lost, 900 persons were injured and 4,270 Negroes were jailed. Damage was estimated at $50 million.[43]

Concluded the Kerner investigators, “The Los Angeles riot ... shocked all who had been confident that race relations were improving in the North, and evoked a new mood in Negro ghettos across the country.”[44] That “new mood” was grim.

From the following description of day-to-day conditions in Tampa, characteristic of the straits of blacks nationwide, it is not difficult to understand how frustration, anger and violence might result. Kerner Commission investigators filed this report:

Although [Tampa] officials prided themselves on supposedly good race relations and relative acceptance by whites of integration of schools and facilities, Negroes, comprising almost 20 percent of the population, had had no one of their own race to represent them in positions of policy or power, nor to appeal to for redress of grievances.
There was no Negro on the city council; none on the school board; none in the fire department; none of high rank on the police force. Six of every 10 houses inhabited by Negroes were unsound. Many were shacks with broken window panes, gas leaks and rat holes in the walls. Rents averaged $50 to $60 a month....
The majority of Negro children never reached the eighth grade. In the high schools, only 3 to 4 percent of Negro seniors attained the minimum passing score on the State’s college entrance examination, one-tenth the percentage of white students.
A difference of at least three-and-a-half years in educational attainment separated the average Negro and white. Fifty-five percent of the Negro men in Tampa were working in unskilled jobs. More than half the families had incomes of less than $3,000 a year. The result was that 40 percent of the Negro children lived in broken homes and the city’s crime rate ranked in the top 25 percent in the Nation.[45]

The summer of 1967 was the peak of racial violence that had spread throughout that country over the previous few years. The worst violence took place in Newark and Detroit over a two-week period in June-July 1967; in 14 days, 66 people were killed in rioting and confrontations between blacks and police and National Guardsmen in the two cities. In Newark, 1,454 people were arrested and millions of dollars in damage was done by fire. In five days in Detroit, 7,253 people were arrested; 43 people died, including 33 blacks; initial damage estimates in the $500 million range eventually were scaled down to about $85 million. Hundreds of homes and businesses were burned and thousands of heavily armed National Guardsmen patrolled the streets. An Associated Press dispatch from Detroit on the fourth day of the riots paints this graphic picture of an unreal scene more to be expected in a war zone or a Hollywood movie than on the streets of a major American city:

DETROIT, July 27 (AP) – Two National Guard tanks ripped a sniper’s haven with machine guns Wednesday night and flushed out three shaggy-haired white youths. Snipers attacked a guard command post and Detroit’s racial riot set a modern record for bloodshed. The death toll soared to 36, topping the Watts bloodbath of 1965 in which 35 died and making Detroit’s insurrection the most deadly racial riot in modern U.S. history....[46]

Reports of snipers were rampant, and National Guardsmen, tanks and police roaming the Detroit streets fired indiscriminately at the slightest provocation. One night close to midnight, hearing shots, a tank machinegunner fired on a house where he had seen a flash of light, which turned out to have been the cigarette lighter of 19-year-old Bill Hood, who was standing at a window. The Kerner testimony read: “The machine-gunner opened fire. As the slugs ripped through the window and walls of the apartment, they nearly severed the arm of 21-year-old Valerie Hood. Her 4-year-old niece, Tonya Blanding, toppled dead, a .50-caliber hole in her chest.” Ten blocks away, Helen Hall, a 51-year-old white businesswoman, opened the drapes of her fourth-floor hotel window, said to a friend, “Look at the tanks!” and was gunned down from the street by a passing National Guard unit.[47]

Much of Detroit’s violence was attributed to poor relations between the predominantly white police force and ghetto blacks. Back in 1961, then-Detroit Police Commissioner George Edwards predicted, “Detroit is the leading candidate in the United States for a race riot.” Four years later, then a federal appeals court judge, Edwards explained why; his assessment is particularly troubling 26 years later in the wake of the videotaped beating of Rodney King by Los Angeles police officers. Edwards wrote in 1965:

It is clear that in 1965 no one will make excuses for any city’s inability to foresee the possibility of racial trouble. Although local police forces generally regard themselves as public servants with the responsibility of maintaining law and order, they tend to minimize this attitude when patrolling areas that are heavily populated with Negro citizens. There, they tend to view each person on the streets as a potential criminal or enemy, and all too often that attitude is reciprocated. Indeed, hostility between the Negro communities in our large cities and the police departments is the major problem in law enforcement in this decade. It has been a major cause of all recent race riots. [48]

Kerner’s Assessment of Press Performance

It was the Kerner Commission’s task in 1967 to explain these events, both to a strong-willed and increasingly embattled president and to an apprehensive nation. The national reluctance to acknowledge racial pressures in society was reflected in the press, whose indecision over how to cover what clearly in every traditional sense was news, but about a formerly inconsequential and ignored segment of society – blacks – was painfully evident.

The press did cover the events themselves fully, the Kerner Commission found, although some sensationalism and inaccuracies did occur. The commission said the media had tried to give a balanced view of the 1967 disorders, and that many of the factual errors occurring in published reports of the violence were the result of inaccurate facts handed out by authorities. In fact, most of the shooting was by National Guardsmen and police, the commission found.

The commission had more criticism for the press in how it had prepared the nation for the kind of events that rocked it in 1967. Like Alice Widener, most Americans were shocked and confused by the rising violence, at a loss to explain and understand it because they knew little or nothing about the issues and concerns existing in the black ghetto; few, in fact, had any idea of what life was like in the ghetto and, naturally, preferred not to think about it. “Segregation and poverty have created in the racial ghetto a destructive environment totally unknown to most white Americans,” the Kerner Commission wrote in 1968. [49]

As a result, America was a nation with its head buried, ostrich-like, in the sand, preferring not to know rather than to acknowledge the facts of civil unrest and race issues confronting the United States in the 1960s. The American ostrich was shocked, surprised and scared when the Civil Rights movement burst into violence and death in 1967 and could be ignored no longer. Widener’s 1965 column may be representative of a nation; Americans were surprised and confused by the racial violence of the mid-1960s – how could this have happened and where did it come from? The press played a role in that confusion by failing fully or completely to fulfill its function of watchdog and surveiller of the societal environment; society was uninformed.
From the perspective of the five-point Hutchins Commission guidelines for responsible press performance, the press in the 1960s had failed miserably when evaluated in terms of its function as a public servant of society, whether black or white. Although the Kerner Commission found that the press had provided “a truthful, comprehensive and intelligent account of the day’s events” during the events themselves, there was practically no “context which gives them meaning.” Clearly, perspectives of black Americans were foreign to the newspaper pages whose job it was to provide a “forum for the exchange of comment and criticism” on issues affecting society, and the media had not at all offered the “representative picture of the constituent groups of society” that might have headed off the violence and certainly would have forewarned people like Alice Widener. Finally, newspapers had for years failed in the fourth Hutchins Commission requirement of a responsible press, to “present and clarify the goals and values of the society.”

Echoing the concerns about the media’s role and responsibility in society, urban expert Shepard Stone testified before the Kerner Commission in 1967 that the press might “... be responsible in part for erosion and disintegration” of American cities and the multiple societies that knit them together if it did not drop its social blinders and expand its coverage. “A race riot is news,” he said. “But there was news, significant news, in the city before the riot, news of the conditions and forces that led to it. The U.S. press generally . . . has not reported the underlying facts.”[50]

Stone’s remarks touched on a long-standing and continuing dilemma in news reporting, the distinction between spot-news coverage and process-oriented coverage what lay behind the Hutchins Commission’s distinction between half-truths and whole truths. As mass communications scholar Maxwell McCombs and others have noted, the media tend to respond well to individual, isolated, time-bounded and distinct events, “[b]ut when it comes to reporting the broad secular sweep of history, the major trends and thrusts of the times, the press often lags significantly behind other public institutions.”[51]

This clearly had been part of the problem when the fires and violence of 1967 and earlier broke out. The press had not noted the growing pressures building in the black community. Even as the Congress had been working for years on legislation to improve equality for blacks in areas of housing and voting, among others, the press had been satisfied simply to cover developments, without probing beneath the surface, without reporting the time-bound facts in any kind of context that might give them meaning.

In convening the Kerner Commission, Johnson also specifically it to examine and evaluate the influence and performance of the news media in the events leading up to and including the summer riots of 1967. In its March 1968 report, the Kerner Commission said the media had

...failed to report adequately on the causes and consequences of civil disorders and the underlying problems of race relations. They have not communicated to the majority of their audience – which is white – a sense of the degradation, misery and hopelessness of life in the ghetto. [52]

Like those of the Hutchins Commission 21 years before, the Kerner report’s conclusions in 1968 remain good today. In many of those conclusions, the Kerner Commission echoed issues and concerns raised by the Hutchins report:

Our . . . fundamental criticism is that the news media have failed to analyze and report adequately on racial problems in the United States and, as a related matter, to meet the Negro’s legitimate expectations of journalism. By and large, news organizations have failed to communicate to both their black and white audiences a sense of the problems America faces and the sources of potential solutions. The media report and write from the standpoint of a white man’s world. The ills of the ghetto, the difficulties of life there, the Negro’s burning sense of grievance, are seldom conveyed. Slights and indignities are part of the Negro’s daily life, and many of them come from what he now calls the “white press” – a press that repeatedly, if unconsciously, reflects the biases, the paternalism, the indifference of white America. This may be understandable, but it is not excusable in an institution that has the mission to inform and educate the whole of our society.[53]

Kerner Commission Criticisms of the Press

This core criticism by the Kerner Commission of the press in 1968 may be broken down into five basic areas, all echoing in the specific context of press coverage of race in America the more general, philosophical concerns enumerated in the Hutchins Commission’s five guidelines for a responsible media in a free society:

1. Performance. From a standpoint of both minority groups and society as a whole, the press “failed to analyze and report”; white America was taken by surprise when black Americans exploded in anger. The press had failed in its surveillance role.

2. Lack of depth. When the press did report race issues, it failed to communicate – to black and whites alike – much depth or insight about the problems or possible remedies; the media did not – in the Hutchins Commission language – provide full access to the day’s intelligence. Said Kerner: “The ills of the ghetto, the difficulties of life there, the Negro’s burning sense of grievance, are seldom conveyed.”

3. Exclusion. “The media report ... [from] a white man’s world,” the Kerner report found; new, nonwhite perspectives were needed. In its corresponding recommendation, the Hutchins Commission had stressed the media’s obligation to open its communications channels to provide access to discussion of comments and criticism from all perspectives. The press in the 1960s and before had largely ignored the black community, both as a source of news and as an audience. From the pages of America’s newspapers, the Kerner report said, one would think racial and ethnic minority groups didn’t even exist; they were people separate and unequal in the eyes of the white press, as they were in the eyes of other American institutions.

4. Bias. Beyond the need for new viewpoints, the Kerner report said, the “white press” is too often biased, reflecting “the biases, the paternalism, the indifference of white America.” The third Hutchins recommendation had been for a full and representative picture of the constituent groups in society to appear in the media. “Far too often,” the Kerner report said, “the press acts and talks about Negroes as if Negroes do not read newspapers or watch television, give birth, marry, die or go to PTA meetings.”[54]

5. Social responsibility. As discussed, the Hutchins Commission formulated a view of the press’s responsibility to society. The Kerner Commission said the press had failed in its “mission to inform and educate the whole of our society” or, in Hutchins Commission language, failed in its responsibility to give society a context for the events of the 1960s that would give them fullest meaning.

Further, the Kerner Commission recommendations in 1968 included two specific charges for the press with which newspapers still struggle today:

1) Expand coverage of minority communities and of race issues through permanently assigned reporters and establishment of more and closer links to and with the minority community. And,

2) Integrate minorities into all aspects of news coverage and content, recognizing the various multi-ethnic and multicultural influences and constituencies within newspapers’ larger circulation and coverage areas. [55]

Echoing the Hutchins charge of a concomitant responsibility to accompany the socially-given right of press freedom, the Kerner Commission said the press’s shortcomings in the 1960s were “not excusable in an institution that has the mission to inform and educate the whole of our society.” In short, the Kerner Commission urged the newspaper industry to acknowledge the existence of racial and ethnic minority groups within their communities, to recognize their needs and to provide coverage of issues about and for those groups as aggressively and fairly as the newspaper covers the rest of the community. Clearly, such coverage had not been standard.

Applying Hutchins & Kerner Recommendations

It was easy for the media in the 1940s, ’50s and early ’60s to subscribe – genuinely and wholeheartedly – to the five-point Hutchins Commission plan for a more socially responsible press. For one thing, there was nothing in the recommendations to penalize newspapers that did not follow the Hutchins precepts. But there was little not to like, in the abstract, in the commission’s charge to newspapers to report fully, provide context to make news more understandable, promote wide-open debate among all members of society, and to do a better job of covering the society’s constituent parts. Agreeing to those recommendations in theory is a lot like pasting the Golden Rule on your refrigerator – does anyone not subscribe, in principle, in the Golden Rule? But there’s a long step between saying you’ll do unto to others, and actually putting it into practice.

So the press continued doing things pretty much as it had been, pretty much unaware – like the rest of white America – of conditions in black America, such as those described from Tampa by the Kerner investigators. Lacking a mechanism to put into practice the Hutchins Commission precepts for press responsibility, newspapers required events such as those of the 1960s to get the message. Because newspapers had failed to project for the larger society a picture of other constituent groups – who they were, how they lived, what injustices they endured – the larger society was able to ignore their existence.

The press’s potential to ignore the concerns of those groups out of the white “mainstream” is just as great in the 1990s as it was in the 1960s, despite generally wider awareness of at least the existence of America’s growing pluralism. Living far – attitudinally and geographically – from cultures unlike their own, human beings become and remain insular, isolated, unaware of news, attitudes, concerns, trends and topics of interest that are not their own. The Hutchins Commission told the press that it was its job in a free society to help isolated subgroups in society learn about one another, to help them communicate and understand one another. The Kerner Commission told the press that it had failed in that task, that in order to help society learn about itself, newspapers themselves had to become less insular and more interactive, less isolated and more inclusive, less monocultural and more multicultural.

It is with that goal that newspapers in America have undertaken to diversify their newsrooms, to become more inclusive and less exclusive in their hiring and promotion practices, to bring into their newsrooms journalists whose perspectives can help readers broaden theirs. The goal is nothing less than to change the way newspapers cover America, to change the content of American newspapers to provide more of that representative coverage of constituent groups, to open their pages to more and different opinions.

• • • • •

NOTES


1. Fred S. Siebert, Theodore Peterson & Wilbur Schramm, Four Theories of the Press. (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1956).
2. John Milton, Aeropagitica, 1644.
3. Carl L. Becker, Progress and Power. (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1949), p. 33, as cited in Siebert, op. cit., p. 44.
4. Siebert, op. cit., p. 46.
5. John Stuart Mill, On Liberty, edited by Alburey Castell (New York: F.S. Crofts and Co., 1947), p. 16.
6. Theodore Peterson, Four Theories of the Press, op. cit., p. 93-4.
7. Ibid.
8. J. Edward Gerald, The Social Responsibility of the Press. (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1963), p. 7.
9. Peterson, op. cit., p. 74.
10. Joseph Pulitzer, message to his staff, April 10, 1907, cited in Edward L. Bernays, Public Relations Problems of the American Press. (New York: National Newspaper Promotion Association, 1952).
11. James Scripps, Detroit Evening News, Aug. 23, 1873. Cited in draft of Vance Trimble, The Astonishing Mr. Scripps. (Ames, Iowa: Iowa State University Press), in press.
12. E.W. Scripps, The Cleveland Penny Press, Vol. 1, No. 1, November 2, 1878, p. 1.
13. Adolph S. Ochs, The New York Times, August 18, 1896, cited in Bernays, op. cit.
14. See Peterson, op. cit., p. 78.
15. Robert M. Hutchins, Foreword, in The Commission on Freedom of the Press, A Free and Responsible Press: A General Report on Mass Communication: Newspapers, Radio, Motion Pictures, Magazines and Books. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1947), p. viii.
16. Ibid., p. 1.
17. Ibid., pp.1-2.
18. Gerald, op. cit., p. 104.
19. E.W. Scripps, “The Wisdom of an Old Penman,” June 1, 1925, p. 6. (The Scripps Archive, Alden Library, Ohio University, Athens, Ohio)
20. A Free and Responsible Press, op. cit., p. 18.
21. Ibid., pp. 20-29.
22. Ibid., p. 21.
23. Ibid., p. 22.
24. Ibid., p. 23.
25. Ibid., p. 24.
26. Ibid., p. 26.
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid., pp. 26-27.
29. Ibid., p. 27.
30. Ibid., p. 29. Peterson suggests that this recommendation assisted in the evolution of the principle of freedom of information and the public’s right to know; if the press has a mandate to provide the fullest possible access to the day’s intelligence, it must also possess a right of access to such information. It is the logical underpinning of press demands for free flow of information from the public sector. See Peterson, op. cit., p. 91.
31. A Free and Responsible Press, op. cit., pp. 67-68.
32. Ibid., pp. 92, 126.
33. The Hartford Courant. “Storm Warnings.” September 19, 1965. p. 24.
34. The Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders. (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1968) p.1
35. Ibid.
36. Ibid., p. 4.
37. Ibid., p. 1.
38. Lyndon B. Johnson, “Address to the Nation,” in ibid., p. iii.
39. Ibid., p. 100.
40. Paula B. Johnson, David O. Sears and John B. McConahay, “Black Invisibility, the Press and the LA Riot,” American Journal of Sociology, 76: 698-721 (January 1971).
41. Ibid.
42. Alice Widener, “A New Revolution: Social Upheaval a Danger to Middle Class Morality,” The Columbus Dispatch, March 25, 1965, p. 2B.
43. John D. Lowry, “Worse than War,” The Quill, October 1965, pp. 16-19.
44. The Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders , op. cit., pp. 20-21.
45. Ibid., p. 23.
46. The Associated Press, July 7, 1967.
47. The Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders , op. cit., p. 57.
48. George Edwards. “The Role of Law Enforcement in Race Troubles.” The Michigan Law Review. 57: 42-51 (November 1965.)
49. The Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, op. cit., p. 1.
50. Shepard Stone, “The U.S. Press: A Critical View,” in Raymond L. Bancroft, ed., City Hall and the Press. (Washington, D.C.: National League of Cities, 1967.) p. 30.
51. Maxwell McCombs, “All the News...,” in Maxwell McCombs, Donald L. Shaw and David Grey, eds., Handbook of Reporting Methods. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1976) p. 30.
52. The Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, op. cit., p. 111.
53. Ibid., p. 203.
54. Ibid., p. 10.
55. Ibid., pp. 10, 14.

AP Style Starters

AP Style Starters
By Ted Pease
Beginning News Writing handout

The Associated Press is the world’s leading news-gathering organization, and provides both wire news and photo services to member organizations. The AP also developed what is considered the bible of style and usage for news writing.

The AP was born in 1848, when the advent of the telegraph created opportunities for news from afar. Telegraphy also was expensive, however, and even though they were fierce competitors, representatives of six New York newspapers who devised the concept of a news “pool” for members realized that an association of member newspapers who could share resources was smart business.

Today, the AP has more than 15,000 member news organizations worldwide, all of whom contribute stories and photos to the AP’s wire service. For more on the AP, see “About the AP” in the AP Stylebook (p. 372).

The Stylebook is the final word on writing and usage style for news writing. The book is a valuable and fascinating resource for brief info on everything from baseball to religion to zoology, weather and business. Media professionals—in print, broadcasting, the Web, public relations and advertising—must know and use the AP Stylebook. This semester, you will begin to develop a close relationship with the Stylebook, well-thumbed copies of which can be found on the desks of all media professionals.

To begin getting acquainted with AP style rules, here is a list of some of the most important and common style rules that you will need to know. There are many other style rules—some important and some arcane—in the Stylebook, but these are some of the ones you’ll encounter most often. Let’s begin getting AP style-literate by learning these rules. Look up these entries and start learning them; note that many entries reference other, related entries. There will be regular quizzes on AP style, and beginning in Week 3, style errors in your stories will count against your grade. (Note: The really important entries are in bold face)

abbreviations and acronyms
academic departments
academic titles
addresses
affect, effect
ages
a.m., p.m.
brand names
capitalization
children
city council
collective nouns
composition titles
Congress
convince, persuade
county
courtesy titles
dimensions
directions and regions
dollars
essential clauses, nonessential clauses
essential phrases, nonessential phrases
fewer, less
food
geographic names
governor
holidays and holy days
hopefully
House of Representatives
hyphen
it’s, its
judge
lay, lie
legislative titles
legislature
military titles
millions, billions
months
names
numerals
organizations and institutions
party affiliation
plurals
police department
possessives
president
punctuation
quotations
race
second reference
sentences
spelling
state
state names
television program titles
temperatures
that (conjunction)
that, which (pronouns)
time element
times
titles
today, tonight
tomorrow
United Nations
U.S.
verbs
who, whom
women

Columns—MLK Day

Note: The first of these two columns ran in the Logan (Utah) Herald-Journal on Feb. 4, 1999.; the second, focusing on a reader’s response to the column, appeared two weeks later. Lightly updated, I like to share these with my students every year on MLK Day, which Utah called “Human Rights Day” in 1999. The holiday was finally named Martin Luther King Jr. Day in 2001, but the state Legislature still starts its annual session on that Monday, which I still find disrespectful. In this 2008 campaign season when a black man is a serious contender for president, Dr. King’s dreams—some coming true, but many still distant—are worth revisiting. TP

Three decades years later, King’s dream won’t die

By Ted Pease
©1999

Normally, I am an incurable optimist. But there are times when I despair for American society—is there any hope for us? Will we ever be able to learn from our past mistakes? This week, remembering the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., is one of those times that I despair.

In spite of social conditions in the 1960s, Martin Luther King had a dream for American equality. He helped the rest of us dream it with him, and made us believe it.

That was more than four decades ago. Dr. King was young—in his 30s—black and incredibly powerful in his faith, his dream, his vision for an America that would correspond to the nation that the Constitution’s framers had also dreamed of.

The dream, said King, was that one day in America, people would be judged “not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” Most of the time I truly believe that we Americans have indeed grown that much, to the point where, as a society, race really doesn’t matter, and that our view of others is not—like beauty—just skin-deep.

But I am a white man. For people who aren’t white—more than one-third of all Americans—race matters almost more than any other single thing in their lives. So what do I know?

Here in Utah, about 12 percent of the population is “minority”—that is, not white. We are the 13th whitest state in the Union. I think people here really do try to live up to moral expectations of decency and acceptance in their dealings with others, but in Utah we can’t even celebrate the memory of Martin Luther King Jr. and honor the ideals he espoused, worked for, died for. Instead, what is designated as Martin Luther King Day on the federal and national calendar is “Human Rights Day” in Utah, as if we dare not acknowledge the power and vision of a black man. (This changed in 2001. TP)

When I was a kid, my parents loaded me onto a bus and took me into Boston to “march with Martin Luther King.” I’m not sure how old I was, or how well I understood what we were doing with the masses of people moving slowly around the historic Boston Common, making new history in a city not known for its racial acceptance, and singing, over and over, “We Shall Overcome.”

But I have sharp and distinct images from that day that still move me, more than 40 years later. King was there that day, and I remember listening to him speak from the small gazebo on the Boston Common. It wasn’t the “I Have a Dream” speech for which he is most famous, of course—he made that mark on our nation’s history and our culture’s conscience during the famous “March on Washington” on Aug. 28, 1963. I don’t remember his words that day in Boston, but the dream was real in the sound of his voice. Like an unforgettable taste on my tongue, I can still feel his voice and his dream.

It’s not that I have any quarrel with Utah designating a day to honor the precepts of human rights. After all, Martin Luther King Jr., who would have been 79 now had he survived, certainly did stand for human rights for everyone. In fact, let’s declare every day “human rights day” in Utah. But why can’t we as a state honor King himself—if only once a year—and why, if we as a state believe in what King dreamed of, does the Utah Legislature pick that day to open its session and get on with business as usual? What message does that send? It’s disrespectful to King and all people who espouse his ideals.

Most of us “just don’t think about race that much,” as one of my students here at Utah State University said to me one day last fall. “Why does it matter?” she said, meaning that a person’s race shouldn’t matter.

Well, she’s right: it shouldn’t matter in the way she meant. Race shouldn’t be a barrier to opportunity, education, lifestyle, expectations, the way we live our day-to-day lives and raise our kids and interact with each other on the street or in schools or at work. But it does matter, and race still is a barrier to people who aren’t white, for whom race is “the single most defining aspect of all parts of my life,” as a black former colleague once told me.

In 2008, four decades after James Earl Ray murdered Martin Luther King, the dream is still alive, but still unfulfilled. Some think America is no less racist and divided now than it was in the 1960s, when a presidential commission said we were “two societies, one white, one black, separate and unequal.”

The reason that race matters today—and not just for people who aren’t white—goes beyond the precepts of basic human decency on which our faith and our beliefs as Americans are founded. It matters because we are still living in two (at least) separate and unequal and incommunicative societies where, as Martin Luther King pointed out a generation ago, words still seem to count more than deeds, and skin color is more important than character.

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Shortly after that column ran, I received an anonymous fan letter at the newspaper, and used it as fodder for my next column.

Logan Herald-Journal, 2/18/99

Racism Right Here at Home

By Ted Pease
©1999

The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream for racial equality and social peace that helped change America.

Didn’t it? That’s what we say, anyway—that we share King’s dream, that it inspired us to see our neighbors for who and what they really are, and helped give all of us an opportunity to thrive.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about Martin Luther King Jr., about how his dream helped shape mine, and about how disappointed I am that Utah can’t acknowledge King’s contribution. Not everyone agreed with me. One friend took me to task for not going far enough: what about Medgar Evars and Malcolm X and others who also gave their lives in word and deed to improve American civil rights? Others applauded. One student wanted more about Barbara Jordan, the great black American stateswoman, scholar and teacher from Texas who died during the week of King’s birthday this year.

These are good thoughts. But one Cache Valley letter writer—anonymous—offered what might be a more important insight on the health of Martin Luther King’s dream in the 1990s. We don’t always like to acknowledge that these kinds of sentiments still exist, right here where we live—that’s why this letter writer’s perspectives are important. For me, this is a powerful and sobering reminder that we have not come as far as we think—or hope.

The letter came to the Herald-Journal, handwritten in black ballpoint pen on three pages from a yellow pad. In its entirety, edited to correct grammar, it said:

“Attention to Mr. Pease. You found my button. I read your item—King shouldn’t be anonymous in Utah. I see no great man in this fellow. He had the morals of a dog—he had many women in his noisy life.
“Are any blacks denied access to any establishments? Do they have to sit in the back of any buses? Do they have to comply with the law? No.
“Rodney King would not submitt when he was arrested. He fought them (the police) and they had to subdue him. As all black lawbreakers do, they are above the law and don’t have to submit. Yes.
“Old Rodney got rich on that little bit of media.
“He has broke the law numerous times since. Blacks are above the law. How do black men treat women—black or white? They rape ’em and hammer them with their fists. That’s inborn—they’re a form of animals on two legs. If you’re a basketball player you’re so far above the law ... rapes and such don’t count.
“They’re above the law and you being an Easterner you couldn’t see it because of your liberal upbringing & blindness. I had a man tell me at a service station back East—He said I can tell a man west of the Mississippi without even saying a word. They’re just nicer and more logical—the Easterners have a cold mindset.
“It isn’t what’s fair anymore with the blacks—it’s what’s fair with the whites that’s needed. They’re walking all over us and boobs like you will never see it. Your logic just escapes me. Take off the blinders and see the real world. The blacks are still bawling about their treatment 100’s of years ago. In fact some of the biggest slave traders were black themselves.
“M. Luther King was an adulterer. He admitted it and what was his excuse?—it calmed his nerves. The blacks simply have no morality, no conscience, and bawl like cut hogs when they have to comply with the law like the rest of us. They’re the biggest law breakers in America.
“Don’t write and try to make most people believe that crap and try to stuff it down our throats. You just can’t see it. Your thinking makes me sick. Go home. Go home.”

Whew.

Newspapers all over America get letters every day that they either throw away or dismiss as too far-out to publish. But I think we need to hear these voices and acknowledge that such sentiments not only exist, but fester in our communities.

Ask the Rev. George Glass, who arrived at his New Pilgrim Baptist Church in Taylorsville-Bennion on the Sunday before Martin Luther King Day and found swastikas and pictures of Klansmen on the doors and windows. Or ask the members of the two black churches in Salt Lake City where letters were sent telling them to “go back to Africa or be taken to a dump and be burned.”

The Rev. Ralph Crabbe of Trinity African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, who received one of those letters, said, “Hate is a sickness that needs healing. But while we are praying, we have to do something.”

I choose to “do something” by giving this letter writer a chance to voice his or her views, because only by exposing and airing out such thoughts can we as a society heal the sickness of hate. We all need to hear what’s being thought in the community and the country and the planet where we live. If we citizens don’t say what we think, how can we choose between what’s right and what’s wrong, and decide what we believe?

Many of the assumptions in this letter are just plain wrong, not based on fact. I could point to this and that statement as inaccurate, but that’s not the point. What this letter represents is not something that we in the media and in the community of human beings can simply dismiss. I fear that it represents a dark truth about America that we’d just as soon ignore.

This person was incensed enough by what I wrote about Martin Luther King Jr. to sit down and write and then edit a letter and put it in an envelope and address it to the newspaper and seal the flap and stamp it and mail it. Maybe this letter writer represents an attitude on race in America that is more widespread than we like to admit.

I don’t share his (or her) view and she (or he) doesn’t like mine. But that’s worth talking about openly, isn’t it?

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Leads, Quotes & Nut Grafs...Oh My!

Key News Writing Components
Lecture/Handout by Ted Pease

1. About leads:
Writing good leads is hard work. They need to grab the passing reader by the throat and drag her into your story. So leads should be:
Tight.
Short.
Spare/Lean.
Active language.
Strong verbs.
Focused.
Impact.
Answer the “So what?” question fast, before the reader can walk on by

“Always grab the reader by the throat in the first paragraph, sink your thumbs into his windpipe in the second and hold him against the wall until the tag line.”
Paul O’Neil, writer

Here’s one of my favorite famous leads, from humorist James Thurber:

“Dead.
“That’s what Mr.………….

Or these two from Edna Buchanan, the famous, fabulous cop reporter from the Miami Herald:

“Gary Robinson died hungry.”

Or

“Bad things happen to the husbands of Widow Elkin.”

Remember the Fred Rule: This is not a lead: “There were 27 agenda items and…..” NOT!

“I look at leads as my one frail opportunity to grab the reader. If I don’t grab them at the start, I can’t count on grabbing them in the middle, because they’ll never get to the middle. Maybe 30 years ago, I would give it a slow boil. Now, it’s got to be microwaved.
“I don’t look at my leads as a chance to show off my flowery writing. My leads are there to get you in and to keep you hooked to the story so that you can’t go away.”
Mitch Albom, Detroit Free Press
from Best Newspaper Writing 1996, Sports Writing

As a general rule, limit leads to one sentence, no more than 30-35 words. (BUT, break either of those rules whenever you have good reason to do so.)

2. About Quotes: Quotes are gems. They are jewels. They are where the writer gets completely out of the way of the story, they are where the reader can hear directly from the sources in their voice and tone and words. So don’t waste quotes.

Quotes should be language that the reporter can’t use, information expressed in a way that is clearer, better, more genuine, more effective coming from the source, MUCH better than any paraphrase could be.

In most cases, the writer can get the important information across more efficiently than it can be expressed in direct quotes. Use quotes sparingly, when they really are the best way to get the information across. Sometimes, the quote is essential. For example, no paraphrase could have done what Bill Clinton’s denial did: “I did not have sex with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky.”

A quote should be pithy, colorful, passionate, eloquent. Like this, from a woman remembering her sisters, who had died in a car crash: “They weren't fancy women,” said their sister, Billie Walker. “They loved good conversation. And sugar cookies.” Short, sweet, evocative, with personality.

Too often, undiscerning writers will quote anything.
“The facility will reopen on Monday,” he said.
“This will affect a lot of students,” the dean said.
SNORE!!!!ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
• Or dull partial quotes, which somehow are even worse: The police spokesman said the new policy “will go into effect in January.”
Ask yourself: Why does this need to be quoted? Is it better as a paraphrase?

Go to http://www.poynter.org and do a search for quotes. See Chip Scanlan on putting quotes on a diet.

3. About Nut Grafs: Nut grafs are the summary “nuts” or kernels of a story that tell the reader what the story’s all about. This is different from the lead paragraph, which serves a similar purpose but not as completely as the nut graf.

What the heck’s a nut graf?
From Chip Scanlan, Poynter Institute for Media Studies:
“The nut graf tells the reader what the writer is up to; it delivers a promise of the story’s content and message. It’s called the nut graf because, like a nut, it contains the ‘kernel,’ or essential theme, of the story. At The Philadelphia Inquirer, reporters and editors called it the ‘You may have wondered why we invited you to this party?’ section. The nut graf has several purposes:
• It justifies the story by telling readers why they should care.
• It provides a transition from the lead and explains the lead and its connection to the rest of the story.
• It often tells readers why the story is timely.
• It often includes supporting material that helps readers see why the story is important.
Ken Wells, an editor at The Wall Street Journal, described the nut graf as ‘a paragraph that says what this whole story is about and why you should read it. It’s a flag to the reader, high up in the story: You can decide to proceed or not, but if you read no farther, you know what that story's about.’”

A tried-and-true story structure is built like this
Lead — summary or narrative, grab the reader
The mystery of the dead squirrels of Myrtle Avenue was solved Thursday when LeRoy Jurgusson telephoned the police.
2nd graf—maybe lead needs explanation/backup?
Jurgusson, 58, of 94 Myrtle Avenue told officers that he feared the squirrels had rabies.
3rd graf — Strong, evocative quote
“Well,” he said this morning, “they were acting funny, so I shot ’em.”
4th graf — nut graf for context, “So what?”
Residents of the quiet south-end Hot Springs neighborhood had been increasingly worried over recent weeks as squirrel corpses began turning up on curbs and in trash cans....

4. About Walk-Offs: The walk-off is the anti-inverted pyramid. For feature stories, instead of petering out to nothing, try to end strong. Save your second-best quote for the end. Recapping the theme of the story at the end, or concluding with a strong quote that evokes a theme from earlier in the story, can give your story a circular feel of completeness. Do NOT, however, end your story with some kind of benediction.