Now They Tell Us by Michael Massing
The News Media, Civil War, & Humanitarian Action
by Larry Minear, Colin Scott, Thomas Weiss
A Literature Review

There is little doubt that the current state of news media has significantly altered the way government policy is formed, portrayed, and interacts in the international arena. Specifically, news media has the ability to call attention to humanitarian crises or events that can produce an affective response strong enough to illicit reaction from a state’s policymakers. Dubbed the ‘CNN effect’, Larry Minear et al. outline how news media can have the profound effect of oversaturating the particulars of a news story such that it develops the power to command action from international actors. Through the CNN effect, we can sometimes even consider news media itself to be an agent of policy change. Michael Massing, on the other hand, posits that American press coverage of the build up towards the war in Iraq failed to hold the US government accountable for its actions, which he argues is the most important responsibility of news media (Massing 34). Though both texts engage with the role of media in shaping and correcting government policy, Minear et al. focus on how media participates in the ‘crisis triangle’ -- composed of itself, policymakers and humanitarian agencies -- and is both constrained and emboldened by its influence on governments and humanitarian action, whereas Massing chooses to highlight the, in his opinion, faulty link between media coverage and the US government during the buildup and initial period of the Iraq War. However, neither of the texts directly address the effect that advances in media technology may or may not have on the delivery of press coverage as information versus entertainment. In fact, it is perhaps technological advance itself that has led traditional news coverage astray from its glorified moniker of ‘the fourth estate’.

Massing argues that American press coverage of the build up to the Iraq war as well as its initial period was flawed in several ways, most notably a lack of knowledgeable, investigative journalists as well as an administration that valued faith-based policy and disregarded the media, in his articles published in the New York Review of Books in 2004. In the case of cable television journalists, most were severely impeded by their inability to speak or understand Arabic, which resulted in a limited scope of access once on Iraqi soil (Massing 15). Insubstantial reporting, continues Massing, combined with the Bush administration’s “...creating a set of truths” (47) for itself simultaneously promoted a censorship of graphically violent images and a perception of the media as a vehicle for indoctrination of the ‘war on terror’. Massing also adeptly points out that most journalists feared a denial of access as punishment for questions too probing, and those who did critically examine the administration’s justification for war on Iraq often didn’t contribute to publications with strong enough distribution numbers to warrant a response or trend. In addition to Massing’s conclusion that these problems arose in part because of the transformation that the US administration experienced during the Bush era, Minear et al.’s definition of media as “an institution with a process” (Minear et al. 31) proves helpful in conceptualizing how the introduction of new technology has radically altered the volume and pace of information flow. After information is transmitted, it undergoes an extensive editing and packaging process; there are now more stakeholders in individual pieces of information than there have ever been. Widespread use of the internet and computers was a still relatively novel phenomena during the beginning of the Iraq war, and so perhaps the journalistic structure, instead of reflecting a failure on all anchors, journalists, and media personnel has been slow in adapting to our online, oversaturated, and hyper-informed style of media consumption of today.

Minear et al.’s work critically addresses the way in which the visibility produced by media can have adverse effects on foreign policy agenda setting. Specifically, Minear et al. discuss how the mutually beneficial relationship between media and military forces in Somalia between 1992-1994 actually changed both the course and outcome of US military missions in Somalia as well as the quality of press coverage as a direct result. Similar to Massing’s accounts of American journalists embedding themselves with marines in Iraq for security and access, so too did the media in Somalia, in exchange for “publicity for domestic consumption and useful intelligence about conditions in the interior of the country.” (Minear et al. 55) According to the authors, the ill timing of US intervention and subsequent withdrawal of forces in 1992 and 1994 were a direct result of an affective response of policymakers to media coverage portraying young famine victims. (54) This style of reporting prompted the desire and constant search for the frontline story for the purpose of authenticity as well as the first to distribute information; ironically, Massing argues that US journalists often unwittingly fabricated authenticity for on-the-ground reporting because of their inability to speak with Iraqi residents or accurately interpret the conflict and battle they were witness to. (Massing 45) As a result, American reports on the war often centered on stories of military heroics, quenching the thirst for war back home and softening the harsh realities of battle; American media coverage in effect leveraged the Bush administration’s position within Washington a great deal, enabling it to continue the war efforts back home and its aggressively punitive foreign policy agenda.

Although both texts engage with the role media has played in the international arena, the transition to world in which a plethora of online news materials are available warrants some further exploration. While Minear et al. do assert that the work that visual imagery does particularly in garnering humanitarian aid and resources is in some ways more powerful than any printed coverage of a crisis, their work stems from before the era post-September 11th attacks on the World Trace Center and the subsequent global ‘war on terror’, not to mention painfully unaware of the recent ‘social media revolutions’ in the Egypt, Tunisia, and other countries in the Middle East, indicating that the world of internet news and the possibility of instant distribution without factual check remains an avenue that warrants careful review. As Massing indicates, the CNN effect has in some ways evolved into complete noise, a “bandwagon to jump on” (21), and if this is the case, implications on news media’s role in the Minear et al. crisis triangle will likely suffer a significant impact.

Posted by Emily Kassie at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (666)

By: Polina Godz

Writings on media, including “The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility”

The book The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility and Other Writings on Media is a vast collection of Walter’s views on the role of media and art in the politics and culture, the other way around and everything in between. It covers a lot of areas and has a number of various works, ranging in the length, form and purpose. However, as the name of the book suggests, the essay “The Work of Art in the Age of its Technological Reproducibility” is not only the opening, but also the central piece of this collection. It is not surprising at all that the editors, Michael W. Jennings, Brigid Doherty, and Thomas Y. Levin have chosen to place the emphasis on the said essay, as it is considered a canonic study in many disciplines. It has been mentioned to me in a studio class by an independent book-maker, while learning to use a hundred years old letterpress, a technology that is experiencing a revival. This time, I am asked to look at in an International Relations class that focuses on the media and the political outcomes of its spread and reproducibility. Meanwhile, the essay has been also referenced to me by a renaissance art history scholar and a working graphic designer, each of these times in a different context and with a different interpretation. Such multi-angled interest to this work, which seems to be timeless, despite drastic changes that happened to technology, media and art since the time it was written, is fascinating, yet foreseeable.

The reason for that lies in the fact that the essay is extremely theoretical and conceptual. It makes general philosophical claims and predictions about broad topics, such as role of art and its relationship to politics. While exploring the central theme of introduction and employment of the technological apparatus, whether it is a camera, editing, projection etc. by the new forms of art, particularly film, Benjamin makes claims about the shift of art “from being founded on ritual, [to being] based on a different practice: politics” (Benjamin, p.37, 25). By talking about the reproducibility of art, he attacks the privileged quality of art that is based on a notion of ‘aura’, which is usually a result less of a quality of an artwork, but more of a figurative distance to viewer (Benjamin, pp.22-23). Author poses rhetoric questions and brings in contemporary examples to support his argument. However, the majority of the examples are observations that just happen to be contingent with Benjamin’s view on culture on media.

He starts off every section with a bold statement that he later demonstrates with a cultural phenomena or a specific work of art that follows his logic. For instance, he brings up Dadaism to support his claim that painting and literature is an ineffective form of media to produce “the effects which public seeks in film” (Benjamin, p. 38), which he defines as tactile, rather than aesthetic quality. However, Dadaism was just one of the many directions that painting was undertaking in Benjamin’s time, not to mention an overall abundance of small-scale and large-scale changes that were happening in the realm of culture, art and politics. Among them, it is easy to find examples that serve Benjamin’s logic, but it is also easy to find exceptions, which the author neglects, as he becomes too fast and radical in the denunciation of the ritualistic value of art. Benjamin’s arguments are exciting and largely applicable to the modern-day tendencies in art and media, therefore, making his essay even more valuable as it becomes almost visionary. However, it disregards some obvious counterexamples that are becoming even more prominent nowadays. For instance, the importance of the ritualistic nature of art and the even greater attention to its uniqueness and figurative distance from a spectator is well articulated in Carol Duncan’s essay “Art Museums and the Ritual of Citizenship” . A simple observation of a modern-day revival of museums that frequently feature a range of media, including film and video, as well as political role of aesthetical and unique art is an interesting phenomenon to explore.

Benjamin was living in a time when the spectrum of art and media suddenly exploded and its diversity made it easy to find the supporting examples for his bold and utopian arguments. In fact, a more detailed analysis of cultural phenomena can be found in the book following “The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility” and labeled ‘other writings on media’. Such works as “The Author as a Producer”, “Little History of Photography” and The Arcades Project give a great insight into where Benjamin’s views come from and are more specific and narrow in the questions they address. In fact, without the context provided by these historical and analytical writings “The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility” is a much less convincing work. It is wrong to separate it from other works by Benjamin and in fact, might be more effective if placed at least chronologically, if not following majority of writings. This way, a reader would be able to follow the development of the ideas, masterfully articulated in the essay. Without the other writings the essay becomes timeless, and rhetoric, but it has much greater value if regarded in the context of its time and specific examples that shaped Benjamin’s position.

Posted by Emily Kassie at 12:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (504)

Intl 1800N: Professor Der Derian
Wednesday September 26h 2012
Fearing Images: Censorship of Pictures from the Crimean to WW2
NB: As the syllabus said to read chapters 1-13, I have focused my review on this section of the book.

Phillip Knightley’s The First Casualty is a classic history of war journalism. As such, it mostly deals with war correspondents, reporters for major newspapers. One of its main lessons, however, concerns the power of images (this is appropriate, considering this class focuses on moving images). Almost as asides, compared to the focus the book has on the reporters writing, The First Casualty mentions briefly the experiences from each conflict of war photographers. Whereas the reporters, between conflicts, deal with uneven levels of censorship, photographers were much more tightly regulated. This suggests that, though war correspondents were a relatively new invention, military and civilian leaders unconsciously knew that images needed to be more carefully censored that writing because of their power. In the Crimean War, photographers had much less freedom than their already-regulated counterparts. During World War One, photographers were especially hamstrung. The German Invasion of France did feature occasional accurate reporting by western media, but all photographers were under strict control. The USSR treated the situation more simply: though reporters were allowed, photographers and photography was absolutely prohibited. Stalin himself was well aware of the power of images: he took special care to dispose of a German photographer who had unflatteringly portrayed his son. Thus, the increased censorship of images compared to textual reporting suggests that, even if only instinctively, wartime leaders were aware that the power of an image could trump that of words.

During the Crimean war, the first real war correspondent, William Russell, was not particularly censored. He was rather left to his own devices, though occasionally was impeded unofficially by members of the military. (For instance, they made his living conditions difficult, cutting down his tent and hampering his access to supplies). Photographers, however, did not portray the war accurately. Roger Fenton, a photographer of the royal family, was encouraged to go to Crimea as well. Fenton described the carnage of war: “we came upon many skeletons half buried. One was lying as if he had raised himself upon his elbow, the bare skull sticking up with still enough flesh left in the muscles to prevent it falling from the shoulders” (Knightly, 14). And yet, his photographs “portray a war where everything looks ship-shape;” he shows happy, well-fed soldiers, parties between French and British allies, and captured forts (after the bodies had been removed). This is because Fenton had been made aware of what sort of photograph he “should” take; he returned to England to receive praise from his royal masters. Russell’s work was not worth fussing with; Fenton’s pictures, however, were. Leaders realized that the visual representation of the war needed to be carefully choreographed, more so than its written representation. Through their actions, they demonstrate that they believed pictures were more important and powerful.

During World War One, this theme continued. War reporters were severely censored. But wartime photographers were even more strenuously regulated. Their purpose was not to provide newspapers with material. So much so that no “realistic” photograph was every released. It was clear that military leaders were vitally concerned about how the war looked in pictures. The penalty for photographers being at the front was a firing squad. This draconian punishment shows the importance that these leaders placed on keeping the visual representation of the war in order. This behavior implies that they believed pictures were more powerful to affect public opinion than words.

During World War Two, militaries still regulated pictures more tightly than words. There was a fair amount of correspondents in France and the Benelux during Hitler’s offensives in 1939-40. Only three photographers were allowed onto the continent from Britain. And even then, censorship was immensely restrictive. They “had to hand over their photographs to the Ministry of Information, which then distributed those it approved” (Knightley, 245). The British government restricted images much more than words. The German government’s propaganda arm operated in a similar manner. During the early period of the war, it accepted the text of its correspondents, but simply rejected pictures. Stalin, of course, was more elegant. He allowed reporters into the USSR (though his staffers at the Soviet Information Bureau rarely let them write anything of value). Photographers, however, were simply banned outright (271). He was well aware of the power of images; in one brutal instance, he made sure to eliminate a German photographer who had taken an unflattering image of Stalin’s captured son (277). Both Allied and Axis governments, by their actions, demonstrated that they believed pictures to be more impactful than words.

The unintentional revelation of Knightley’s book is that, then, western leaders, from the Crimean War through World War Two, saw images as much more powerful and much more important to control. Though reporters from the 19th century up through the first half of the 20th had varying degrees of freedom and access, photographers were uniformly treated much more strictly. This is because images were seen as the most important and powerful way to affect public opinion, and so were needed to be regulated most tightly.

Posted by James Der Derian at 10:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (1465)