As a senior International Relations concentrator on the verge of my final semester at Brown, I knew that my time to take an IR senior seminar had come as I began shopping last week. What I did not expect, however, was that I would find a senior seminar that I would want to take even if it did not fulfill a concentration requirement. After attending the first class meeting of “Global Media: History, Theory, Production,” going through the syllabus, and reviewing the course readings, I am confident that I have indeed found that seminar. I have been intrigued by the interplay between the media and international affairs since 9/11, but have yet to formally explore this relationship in an academic setting. Even as I write this entry, I think back to that fateful Tuesday at the beginning of my sophomore year of high school when it was announced over the loudspeaker that two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. Soon after, a live feed of CNN was broadcast in my school’s auditorium and hundreds of students sat transfixed as the news media reported on and replayed the day’s events.

More recently, the coverage of the 2008 presidential election has crystallized my interest in the role of the media. While this specific coverage may not necessarily fall under the focus of the class, it has nonetheless made me increasingly aware of and curious about the impact of the media. As an avid political junkie and active volunteer for the Barack Obama campaign, I have developed an almost obsessive relationship with the media. I read online news sources, check blogs, watch debates and speeches broadcast on television, and follow Sunday morning news programs. I have witnessed the media create particular narratives, seek out soundbites, and craft primary results into sensationalized rollercoaster rides. All in all, I am confident that “Global Media” will provide me with the opportunity to delve further into the media’s position as both a passive observer reporting from the sidelines and an active participant often shaping the course of international affairs. I look forward to exploring the history and theory behind the role of the media as well as producing my own work. As a member of this class, I will offer an unwavering willingness to learn and a commitment to always work my hardest. I will bring the knowledge garnered from over three years of academic study in the field of International Relations and a summer of research at the Watson Institute. I will respect the views of others and work effectively in groups whenever necessary. Overall, I have the right perspective, work ethic, and interest in the course material to help build a diverse and engaged class.

Barthes on Writers, Intellectuals, Teachers
For me, one of the most striking passages within Barthes’ work is his explanation of the, “implicit contract between teacher and taught” (314). Fresh off a semester in which I took “Persuasive Communication” with Barbara Tannenbaum, this passage reminded me of lessons about speaker, audience, and their respective goals. As Barthes accurately suggests, each and every speech act is not only about the speaker, but the listener as well [he again calls to mind this idea with a series of questions a few pages later: “Where is speech? In locution? In listening? In the returns of each?” (323)]. Both sides have certain objectives that must be met in order to achieve effective communication and a working relationship. Barthes’ deconstruction of the contract between teacher and student is impressive for its detail as well as its accuracy. He aptly articulates the underlying expectations within this relationship and, in the end, finds the teacher’s responsibilities to be more extensive. On the one hand, Barthes determines the teacher’s expectations to be largely centered around (the perception of) authority. On the other, he outlines the student expectations as more concrete and varied. Ultimately, what appears to be most significant in this passage is the acknowledgment that there exist definite constructs within the teacher-student relationship. We determine “good” teachers and “good” students by how closely they follow these dominant conventions.
Barthes on Language and Power

The notion of strict constructs is also central to Barthes’ argument about language and power. At the end of the first section, he makes clear that language and power are closely intertwined: “No help for it: language is always on the side of power; to speak is to exercise a will to power: in the space of speech, no innocence, no safety” (311). According to Barthes, just as we are able to recognize “good” teachers and “good” students, we share ideas about what makes for proper speech and proper delivery. In the realm of language, we are expected to abide by a particular speed of delivery, accept the shared meanings given to words, strive for clarity, and stage public speech (namely, in the classroom environment) in a certain manner. If we fail to follow these norms, we risk being seen as unintelligible, weak, and socially inept. While we may think that these conventions are universal truths, we forget that there is nothing natural about the way in which we perform language. In fact, normative judgments define language: “if you add up neithers and nors, you will see that this impartial, objective, human speaker if for this, against that” (326). Thus, Barthes reasons, to speak in accordance with prevailing conventions is to play into the hands of power.

More broadly (and more applicable to the focus of this class), Barthes’ analysis of language and power calls to mind the use of the phrase, “war on terror” and the growing resistance to this terminology. Soon after 9/11, George W. Bush, the United States, and the media began to employ the phrase, “war on terror” to describe the general fight against Islamist extremism. Global leaders, international news outlets, and ordinary citizens around the world bought into this terminology (and, in turn, the United States’ ideology and framing of the issue), despite its grammatical ambiguity (i.e. how can one use physical force to combat an amorphous idea?). In recent years, however, more and more people have stopped using the phrase. Why? Maybe these people simply cannot accept poor grammar any longer, but, more likely, it appears that this move represents a coordinated effort to stand up to the United States and its capacity to shape the international agenda. Here, if we equate “war on terror” with Barthes’ conception of stereotypes, this argument becomes apparent: “But can one not ‘transcend’ stereotypes instead of ‘destroying’ them? Such a solution is unrealistic; the operators of language have no power except to empty what is full” (317). If the United States’ global authority rests partly with language, then the decision to not use its phraseology stands as a clear affront to power.