The Wake

Illustration by Jeremy Sengly

So what is the true function of the press? Some argue the concept that political and social discourse can be encouraged through the simple presentation of unbiased facts. Others believe that objectivity is a farce, and the only true way to have a democratic press is through open forum debate, with the press as a facilitator.

In America, the notion of objectivity in the press is relatively recent. For the first two centuries of our nation’s history, newspapers, journals and magazines were typically tools used to advance an editor or publisher’s agenda. This biased use of the media is seen as dangerous in the context of our current “truth”-obsessed society, but these publications sparked dialogue and encouraged democracy in a way that’s nonexistent in the contemporary press.

In reading journalism historian David Paul Nord’s treatment of the facts versus forum function of the press debate, (from his book Communities of Journalism) it’s relatively easy to recognize his implicit contempt for objectivity through fact-reporting. And, without a doubt, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree with him.

The first newspaper in America, Publick Occurrences, (1690) was initially intended to do nothing more than “get the facts right;” a noble quest that’s been taken on by nearly every publication since. One would think that a newspaper intending to present only facts would be the first example of an unbiased objective treatment of current events and in some ways it was. But, the inclusion of a blank fourth page at the end of the newspaper opened it up to public forum. I wish I could say that vestiges of that fourth page exist today in print, but I don’t believe that they do.

Delos Wilcox, a progressive-era municipal reformer, spoke of the “authority of facts” as a vehicle to unite the implicit connectivity of urban communities; the notion being that if citizens are informed the stage would be set for public discourse over pertinent issues. This discourse would then build the community through civil dialogue. In the context of the birth of newspaper publication this theory is both noble and idealistic. But over the course of nearly two centuries of publication, it’s clear that the authority of facts has failed and that this failure is rooted in the genesis of the penny press.

Prior to the penny press, the stakes were relatively low when it came to newspaper publishing. Much like starting a Web site in our day-in-age, anyone with some initial investment capital (enough to buy a press, paper and ink) could found a low-circulation publication that could actually carry some weight within a community. With this easy entry cost came newspapers bankrolled by political parties, organizations or impassioned citizens who wanted to further their causes. Out of this model came papers like the Gazette of the United States and the National Gazette. Both of these papers spoke for the Federalist and Anti-Federalist parties, respectively. What’s more, they were published in America’s capitol city (Philadelphia) within blocks of one another. Having papers that are blatantly biased towards their own ideology is the opposite of the authority of facts. Some might say that these papers represented the authority of opinion. And this opinion fostered not just community-building dialogue, but nation-building dialogue. Out of the pages of these papers came the debates that led to the Declaration of Independence and The Constitution.

In 1833 when Benjamin Day founded The New York Sun the landscape of the press reached a watershed moment. No longer were papers sold on a predominantly subscription-based scale. Instead, they were sold on the streets for $.01. This shift caused papers to make their content salacious and more appealing to the man on the street. Also, with this shift to the penny press, the stakes became higher for printers. The press became an industry, and each player in this industry was striving to get the highest readership possible. No longer could single issues be supported or parties endorsed. That would have meant that an entire section of the reading audience would be alienated from the paper. Writers were smart not to ruffle too many feathers or go against prevailing ideals for fear that their competitors would get higher sales or more advertisers. Major players emerged out of this competition in the media, and as barriers for entry grew, the marketplace of ideas shrank. That’s not to say that forum papers were flushed out of the market, but to say that they still had the same sway that they did just 50, or even 25 years earlier would be untrue.

In looking at The New York Herald (a penny paper) in comparison with William Lloyd Garrison’s The Liberator (an abolitionist paper) it’s easy to tell the intended function of each. The Herald presents journalistic fact much like a newspaper would today. It features stories about murders, local (New York City) events like operas and horse races, human interest pieces, etc. But, there really is no explicit agenda the paper is trying to convey. Most of the stories are fact-based, and don’t particularly incite any kind of dialogue or elicit emotion.

The Liberator, on the other hand, is entirely devoted to the promotion of the emancipation of slaves. Nearly every article calls upon the reader to take a side and take action over the divisive issue. The newspaper calls upon readers to contribute their ideas and letters in order to foster the debate. It’s hard to imagine that a penny paper could invoke the kind of emotion necessary to foster a public discourse surrounding its content.

Over time, this fetishizing of facts became an obsession in the media. The search for the absolute truth became an industry standard. Personally, I equate this fact-fixation with the increasing political apathy in the United States. As the news articles and reports became more and more mundane, we as a public became more lulled into a state of contentment with this style of reporting, to the point where we see editorials and commentators as caricatures and irrelevant mouthpieces for party lines. This is the reason why no Democrat takes Bill O’Reilly or Sean Hannity seriously and why no Republican takes someone like Bill Maher or Keith Olberman seriously. If journalists are passionless about the issues they’re covering, the reader will be equally passionless in reading about them. For example, in our current election cycle, the debates are so mundane and repetitive that reporters no longer feel strongly towards any of the candidates. Thus, readers are fed a constant stream of talking points and sound bytes followed by irrelevant discussion of a candidate’s wardrobe or hairstyle.

The only opportunity for forum in print today comes in one form: letters to the editor. The letters are equally useless in fostering debate, however, because the publications decide which letters are published.

The only true forum for journalistic democracy today is on the Internet. People are given the freedom to anonymously express their opinions. In reading a political blog, the user comments are often more interesting than the stories themselves. The only problem is, the Web is so vast that it’s hard for people of conflicting ideologies to find each other.

As time progresses and technology pushes forward, it’s impossible to say what will happen to democratic discourse. All I know is that the authority of facts became bastardized when the facts became monopolized and peddled on the streets for $.01. As the fourth page fades further and further into obscurity, the state of political apathy and mass ignorance will inevitably rise.