Surveying the Cultural Landscape

Some cultural phenomena gain wide popular appeal, and others do not. Some appeal to certain age groups or social classes. Some, such as rock and roll, jazz, and classical music, are popular worldwide; other cultural forms, such as Tejano, salsa, and Cajun music, are popular primarily in certain regions or ethnic communities. Certain aspects of culture are considered elite in one place (e.g., opera in the United States) and popular in another (e.g., opera in Italy). Though categories may change over time and from one society to another, two metaphors offer contrasting views about the way culture operates in our daily lives: culture as a hierarchy, represented by a skyscraper model, and culture as a process, represented by a map model.

Culture as a Skyscraper

Throughout twentieth-century America, critics and audiences perceived culture as a hierarchy with supposedly superior products at the top and inferior ones at the bottom. This can be imagined, in some respects, as a modern skyscraper. In this model, the top floors of the building house high culture, such as ballet, the symphony, art museums, and classic literature. The bottom floors—and even the basement—house popular or low culture, including such icons as soap operas, rock music, radio shock jocks, and video games (see Figure 1.2 on page 20). High culture, identified with “good taste” and higher education, and supported by wealthy patrons and corporate donors, is associated with “fine art,” which is available primarily in libraries, theaters, and museums. In contrast, low or popular culture is aligned with the “questionable” tastes of the masses, who enjoy the commercial “junk” circulated by the mass media, such as reality TV, celebrity-gossip Web sites, and violent action films. Whether or not we agree with this cultural skyscraper model, the high–low hierarchy often determines or limits the ways we view and discuss culture today.15 Using this model, critics have developed at least five areas of concern about so-called low culture: the depreciation of fine art, the exploitation of high culture, the disposability of popular culture, the driving out of high culture, and the deadening of our cultural taste buds.

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FIGURE 1.2 CULTURE AS A SKYSCRAPERCulture is diverse and difficult to categorize. Yet throughout the twentieth century, we tended to think of culture not as a social process but as a set of products sorted into high, low, or middle positions on a cultural skyscraper. Look at this highly arbitrary arrangement and see if you agree or disagree. Write in some of your own examples. Why do we categorize or classify culture in this way? Who controls this process? Is control of making cultural categories important? Why or why not?

An Inability to Appreciate Fine Art

Some critics claim that popular culture, in the form of contemporary movies, television, and music, distracts students from serious literature and philosophy, thus stunting their imagination and undermining their ability to recognize great art.16 This critical view pits popular culture against high art, discounting a person’s ability to value Bach and the Beatles or Shakespeare and The Simpsons concurrently. The assumption is that because popular forms of culture are made for profit, they cannot be experienced as valuable artistic experiences in the same way as more elite art forms, such as classical ballet, Italian opera, modern sculpture, or Renaissance painting—even though many of what we regard as elite art forms today were once supported and even commissioned by wealthy patrons.

A Tendency to Exploit High Culture

Another concern is that popular culture exploits classic works of literature and art. A good example may be Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s dark Gothic novel Frankenstein, written in 1818 and ultimately transformed into multiple popular forms. Today, the tale is best remembered by virtue of two movies: a 1931 film version starring Boris Karloff as the towering and tragic monster, and the 1974 Mel Brooks comedy Young Frankenstein. In addition to the many cinematic versions, television turned the tale into The Munsters, a mid-1960s situation comedy. The monster was even resurrected as sugarcoated Franken Berry cereal. In the recycled forms of the original story, Shelley’s powerful themes about abusing science and judging people on the basis of appearances are often lost or trivialized in favor of a simplistic horror story, a comedy spoof, or a form of junk food.

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EXPLOITING HIGH CULTURE
Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein, might not recognize our popular culture’s mutations of her Gothic classic. First published in 1818, the novel has inspired numerous interpretations, everything from the scary—Boris Karloff in the classic 1931 movie—to the silly—the Mel Brooks spoof Young Frankenstein. A recent version, called I, Frankenstein and based on a graphic novel, pits the monster against an army of gargoyles; a more serious adaptation followed in 2015. Can you think of another example of a story that has developed and changed over time and through various media transformations? Photofest (left) 20th Century Fox/Photofest (center) © Lionsgate/Everett Collection (right)

A Throwaway Ethic

Unlike an Italian opera or a Shakespearean tragedy, many elements of popular culture have a short life span. The average newspaper circulates for about twelve hours, then lands in a recycling bin; a hit song might top the charts for a few weeks at a time; and most new Web sites or blogs are rarely visited and doomed to oblivion. Although endurance does not necessarily denote quality, many critics think that so-called better or higher forms of culture have more staying power. In this argument, lower or popular forms of culture are unstable and fleeting; they follow rather than lead public taste. In the TV industry in the 1960s and 1970s, for example, network executives employed the “least objectionable programming” (or LOP) strategy that critics said pandered to mediocrity with bland, disposable programs that a “regular” viewer would not find objectionable, challenging, or disturbing.

EXAMINING ETHICS

Covering War

By 2014, as the United States withdrew most of its military forces from Afghanistan—from a war that was in its thirteenth year (making it the longest war in U.S. history)—journalistic coverage of Middle East war efforts had declined dramatically. This was partly due to the tendency of news organizations to lose interest in an event when it drags on for a long time and becomes “old news.” The news media are often biased in favor of timeliness and “current events.” But war reporting also declined because of the financial crisis—more than twenty thousand reporters lost their jobs or took buyouts between 2009 and 2013 as papers cut staff to save money. In fact, most news organizations stopped sending reporters to cover the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, depending instead on wire service reporters, foreign correspondents from other countries, or major news organizations like the New York Times or CNN for their coverage. Despite the decreasing coverage, the news media continue to confront ethical challenges about the best way to cover the wars, including reporting on the deaths of soldiers; documenting drug abuse or the high suicide rate among Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans; dealing with First Amendment issues; and knowing what is appropriate for their audiences to view, read, or hear.

When President Obama took office in 2009, he suspended the previous Bush administration ban on media coverage of soldiers’ coffins returning to U.S. soil from the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. First Amendment advocates praised Obama’s decision, although after a flurry of news coverage of these arrivals in April 2009, media outlets grew less interested as the wars dragged on. Later, though, the Obama administration upset some of the same First Amendment supporters when it withheld more prisoner and detainee abuse photos from earlier in the wars, citing concerns for the safety of current U.S. troops and fears of further inflaming anti-American opinion. Both issues—one opening up news access and one closing it down—suggest the difficult and often tense relationship between presidential administrations and the news media.

In May 2011, these issues surfaced again when U.S. Navy SEALs killed Osama bin Laden, long credited with perpetrating the 9/11 tragedy. As details of the SEAL operation began to emerge, the Obama administration weighed the appropriateness of releasing photos of bin Laden’s body and video of his burial at sea. While some news organizations and First Amendment advocates demanded the release of the photos, the Obama administration ultimately decided against it, saying that the government did not want to spur any further terrorist actions against the United States and its allies.

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IMAGES OF WAR
The photos and images that news outlets choose to show greatly influence their audience members’ opinions. In each of the photos below, what message about war is being portrayed? How much freedom do you think news outlets should have in showing potentially controversial scenes from war? Wissam al-Okaili/AFP/Getty Images (top) ZUMAPress.com (bottom)

How much freedom should the news media have to cover a war?

Back in 2006, President George W. Bush criticized the news media for not showing enough “good news” about U.S. efforts to bring democracy to Iraq. Bush’s remarks raised ethical questions about the complex relationship between the government and the news media during times of war: How much freedom should the news media have to cover a war? How much control, if any, should the military have over reporting a war? Are there topics that should not be covered?

These kinds of questions have also created ethical quagmires for local TV stations that cover war and its effects on communities where soldiers have been called to duty and then injured or killed. In one extreme case, the nation’s largest TV station owner—Sinclair Broadcast Group—would not air the ABC News program Nightline in 2004 because it devoted an episode to reading the names of all U.S. soldiers killed in the Iraq War up to that time. Here is an excerpt from a New York Times account of that event:

Sinclair Broadcast Group, one of the largest owners of local television stations, will preempt tonight’s edition of the ABC News program “Nightline,” saying the program’s plan to have Ted Koppel [who then anchored the program] read aloud the names of every member of the armed forces killed in action in Iraq was motivated by an antiwar agenda and threatened to undermine American efforts there.

The decision means viewers in eight cities, including St. Louis and Columbus, Ohio, will not see “Nightline.” ABC News disputed that the program carried a political message, calling it “an expression of respect which simply seeks to honor those who have laid down their lives for their country.”

But Mark Hyman, the vice president of corporate relations for Sinclair, who is also a conservative commentator on the company’s newscasts, said tonight’s edition of “Nightline” is biased journalism. “Mr. Koppel’s reading of the fallen will have no proportionality,” he said in a telephone interview, pointing out that the program will ignore other aspects of the war effort.

Mr. Koppel and the producers of “Nightline” said earlier this week that they had no political motivation behind the decision to devote an entire show, expanded to 40 minutes, to reading the names and displaying the photos of those killed. They said they only intended to honor the dead and document what Mr. Koppel called “the human cost” of the war.1

Given such a case, how might a local TV news director today—under pressure from the station’s manager or owner—formulate guidelines to help negotiate such ethical territory? While most TV news divisions have ethical codes to guide journalists’ behavior in certain situations, could ordinary citizens help shape ethical discussions and decisions? Following is a general plan for dealing with an array of ethical dilemmas that media practitioners face and for finding ways in which nonjournalists might participate in this decision-making process.

Arriving at ethical decisions is a particular kind of criticism involving several steps. These include (1) laying out the case; (2) pinpointing the key issues; (3) identifying the parties involved, their intents, and their potentially competing values; (4) studying ethical models and theories; (5) presenting strategies and options; and (6) formulating a decision or policy.2

As a test case, let’s look at how local TV news directors might establish ethical guidelines for war-related events. By following the six steps above, our goal is to make some ethical decisions and to lay the groundwork for policies that address TV images or photographs—for example, those of protesters, supporters, memorials, or funerals—used in war coverage. (See Chapter 14 for details on confronting ethical problems.)

Examining Ethics Activity

As a class or in smaller groups, design policies that address one or more of the issues raised here. Start by researching the topic; find as much information as possible. For example, you can research guidelines that local stations already use by contacting local news directors and TV journalists.

Do the local stations have guidelines? If so, are they adequate? Are there certain types of images they will not show? If the Obama administration had released photographic evidence of bin Laden’s death, would a local station have shown it? Finally, if time allows, send the policies you designed to various TV news directors and/or station managers; ask for their evaluations, and ask whether they would consider implementing the policies.

A Diminished Audience for High Culture

Some observers also warn that popular culture has inundated the cultural environment, driving out higher forms of culture and cheapening public life.17 This concern is supported by data showing that TV sets are in use in the average American home for nearly eight hours a day, exposing adults and children each year to thousands of hours of trivial TV commercials, violent crime dramas, and superficial reality programs. According to one story critics tell, the prevalence of so many popular media products prevents the public from experiencing genuine art—though this view fails to note the number of choices and options now available to media consumers.

Dulling Our Cultural Taste Buds

One cautionary story, frequently recounted by academics, politicians, and pundits, tells how popular culture, especially its more visual forms (such as TV advertising and YouTube videos), undermines democratic ideals and reasoned argument. According to this view, popular media may inhibit not only rational thought but also social progress by transforming audiences into cultural dupes lured by the promise of products. A few multinational conglomerates that make large profits from media products may be distracting citizens from examining economic disparity and implementing change. Seductive advertising images showcasing the buffed and airbrushed bodies of professional models, for example, frequently contradict the actual lives of people who cannot hope to achieve a particular “look” or may not have the money to obtain the high-end cosmetic or clothing products offered. In this environment, art and commerce have become blurred, restricting the audience’s ability to make cultural and economic distinctions. Sometimes called the “Big Mac” theory, this view suggests that people are so addicted to mass-produced media menus that they lose their discriminating taste for finer fare and, much worse, their ability to see and challenge social inequities.

CASE STUDY

Is Anchorman a Comedy or a Documentary?

One fascinating media phenomenon of the first few decades of the twenty-first century is that fictional storytelling has changed dramatically over this time while TV news stories, especially local TV news, have hardly changed at all.

Why is this?

They are both media products that depend on storytelling to draw audiences and make money. But while complex and controversial TV narratives like HBO’s Game of Thrones, Showtime’s Penny Dreadful, FX’s Fargo, AMC’s Breaking Bad and The Walking Dead, Netflix’s House of Cards, and NBC’s The Blacklist were not possible in the 1960s, when just three networks—careful not to offend or challenge viewers—dominated, the lead crime story on most local TV newscasts around the country looks pretty much like it did decades earlier. In the film Anchorman 2, Will Ferrell and Adam McKay follow up their satire of small-minded local news anchors in the 1970s with a story about the birth of pandering twenty-four-hour news coverage in the 1980s. The film points out that nonfictional storytelling on television remains locked in narrative patterns from the 1960s and 1970s—making Ferrell’s newscaster comedies, at times, seem more like documentaries.

The reason for the lack of advances in news narratives is itself a story—one that’s about money, and which stories sell and why.

American filmmakers from D. W. Griffith and Orson Welles to Steven Spielberg and Wes Anderson have understood the allure of narrative. But narrative is such a large category—encompassing everything from poetry and novels to movies and TV shows to TV newscasts and political ads—that it demands subdivisions. So over time we developed the idea of genre as a way to differentiate the vast array of stories. In Poetics, Aristotle first talked about generic categories in his analysis of poetry, which he divided into three basic types: “Epic poetry and Tragedy, Comedy also and Dithyrambic poetry, and the music of the flute and of the lyre.” Fast-forwarding to more contemporary takes on popular genres, literary scholar John Cawelti, in his book Adventure, Mystery, and Romance, identified five popular literary formulas: adventure, romance, mystery, melodrama, and “alien beings or states.”1

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Gemma LaMana/© Paramount Pictures/Everett Collection

In fact, most local and national TV news stories function as a kind of melodrama as defined by Cawelti and others. In the melodrama, “the city” is often the setting—as it is in most TV newscasts—and has degenerated into a corrupt and mysterious place, full of crime and mayhem. Historically, heroes of fictional melodramas are small-town sheriffs and big-city cops who must rise above the corruption to impose their individual moral values to defeat various forms of evil. In today’s popular culture, cities like Los Angeles and New York are portrayed as places that conceal evil terrorist cells, corrupt cops, maniacal corporate bosses, and other assorted “bad guys,” until the strong cops or triumphant lawyers conquer evil and restore order through the convictions of their strong individual character. Variations on these melodramatic themes can be found as the major organizing structure in everything from cop shows like NCIS, The Good Wife, and Justified to newsmagazines like 60 Minutes or cable TV shows like Fox News’ The O’Reilly Factor and Hannity. This is not surprising given that individualism is probably our most persistent American value and that the melodrama generally celebrates the rugged tenacity of tough-minded heroes—whether they are gunfighters, cops, reporters, or even news anchors.

The appropriation of these narratives by news shows has been satirized by the likes of Anchorman, Saturday Night Live, and, more pointedly, Comedy Central’s The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. These satires often critique the way news producers repeat stale formulas rather than invent dynamic new story forms for new generations of viewers. As much as the world has changed since the 1970s (when SNL’s “Weekend Update” debuted), local TV news story formulas have gone virtually unaltered. Modern newscasts still limit reporters’ stories to two minutes or less and promote stylish male/female anchor teams, a sports “guy,” and a certified meteorologist as familiar personalities, usually leading with a dramatic local crime story and teasing viewers to stay tuned for a possible weather disaster.

By indulging these formulas, TV news continues to address viewers not primarily as citizens and members of communities but as news consumers who build the TV ratings that determine the ad rates for local stations and the national networks. In the book The Elements of Journalism, Bill Kovach and Tom Rosenstiel argue that “journalists must make the significant interesting and relevant.”2 Too often, however, on cable, the Internet, and local news, we are awash in news stories that try to make something significant out of the obviously trivial, mildly interesting, or narrowly relevant—like stories about troubled celebrities, attention-seeking politicians, or decontextualized stock-market numbers.

In fictional TV, however, storytelling has evolved over time, becoming increasingly dynamic and complex with shows like Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, The Good Wife, Fargo, Homeland, and Girls. In Everything Bad Is Good for You, Steven Johnson argues that in contrast to older popular 1970s programs like Dallas or Dynasty, the best TV stories today layer “each scene with a thick network of affiliations. You have to focus to follow the plot, and in focusing you’re exercising the parts of your brain that map social networks, that fill in missing information, that connect multiple narrative threads.”3 Johnson says that younger audiences today—brought up in an era of the Internet and complicated interactive visual games—bring high expectations to other kinds of popular culture as well, including television. “The mind,” he writes, “likes to be challenged; there’s real pleasure to be found in solving puzzles, detecting patterns or unpacking a complex narrative system.”4

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Dana Edelson/NBC/NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images

This evolution of fictional storytelling has not yet happened with its nonfictional counterparts; TV news remains entrenched in old formulas and time constraints. The reasons for this, of course, are money and competition. Whereas national networks today have begun to adjust their programming decisions to better compete against cable services like AMC and HBO and new story “content” providers like Netflix and Amazon, local TV news still competes against just three or four other news stations and just one (if any) local newspaper. Even with diminished viewership (most local TV stations have lost half their audience over the past ten to fifteen years), local TV news still draws enough viewers in a fragmented media landscape to attract top ad dollars.

But those viewership levels continue to decline as older audiences give way to new generations more likely to comb social media networks for news and information. Perhaps younger audiences crave news stories that match the more complicated storytelling that surrounds them in everything from TV dramas to interactive video games to their own conversations. Viewers raised on the irony of Saturday Night Live, The Simpsons, Family Guy, South Park, and The Daily Show are not buying—and not watching—news stories that seem as if they still belong to their grandparents’ generation.

Culture as a Map

While the skyscraper model is one way to view culture, another way to view it is as a map. Here, culture is an ongoing and complicated process—rather than a high–low vertical hierarchy—that allows us to better account for our diverse and individual tastes. In the map model, we judge forms of culture as good or bad based on a combination of personal taste and the aesthetic judgments a society makes at particular historical times. Because such tastes and evaluations are “all over the map,” a cultural map suggests that we can pursue many connections from one cultural place to another and can appreciate a range of cultural experiences without simply ranking them from high to low.

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THE POPULAR HUNGER GAMES book series, which has also become a blockbuster film franchise, mixes elements that have, in the past, been considered “low” culture (young-adult stories, science fiction) with the “high” culture of literature and satire. It also doubles as a cautionary story about media used to transform and suppress its audience: In the books and films, the media, controlled by a totalitarian government, broadcast a brutal fight to the death between child “tributes,” fascinating the population while attempting to quash any hope of revolution. Lionsgate/Photofest

Our attraction to and choice of cultural phenomena—such as the stories we read in books or watch at the movies—represent how we make our lives meaningful. Culture offers plenty of places to go that are conventional, familiar, and comforting. Yet at the same time, our culture’s narrative storehouse contains other stories that tend toward the innovative, unfamiliar, and challenging. Most forms of culture, however, demonstrate multiple tendencies. We may use online social networks because they are both comforting (an easy way to keep up with friends) and innovative (new tools or apps that engage us). We watch televised sporting events for their familiarity and conventional organization, and because the unknown outcome can be unpredictable or challenging. The map offered here (see Figure 1.3) is based on a familiar subway grid. Each station represents tendencies or elements related to why a person may be attracted to different cultural products. Also, more popular culture forms congregate in more congested areas of the map, while less popular cultural forms are outliers. Such a large, multidirectional map may be a more flexible, multidimensional, and inclusive way of imagining how culture works.

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FIGURE 1.3 CULTURE AS A MAP In this map model, culture is not ranked as high or low. Instead, the model shows culture as spreading out in several directions across a variety of dimensions. For example, some cultural forms can be familiar, innovative, and challenging, like the Harry Potter books and movies. This model accounts for the complexity of individual tastes and experiences. The map model also suggests that culture is a process by which we produce meaning—that is, make our lives meaningful—as well as a complex collection of media products and texts. The map shown is just one interpretation of culture. What cultural products would you include in your own model? What dimensions would you link to and why?

The Comfort of Familiar Stories

The appeal of culture is often its familiar stories, pulling audiences toward the security of repetition and common landmarks on the cultural map. Consider, for instance, early television’s Lassie series, about the adventures of a collie named Lassie and her owner, young Timmy. Of the more than five hundred episodes, many have a familiar and repetitive plotline: Timmy, who arguably possessed the poorest sense of direction and suffered more concussions than any TV character in history, gets lost or knocked unconscious. After finding Timmy and licking his face, Lassie goes for help and saves the day. Adult critics might mock this melodramatic formula, but many children found comfort in the predictability of the story. This quality is also evident when night after night children ask their parents to read them the same book, such as Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon or Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are, or watch the same DVD, such as Snow White or The Princess Bride.

Innovation and the Attraction of “What’s New”

Like children, adults also seek comfort, often returning to an old Beatles or Guns N’ Roses song, a William Butler Yeats or Emily Dickinson poem, or a TV rerun of Seinfeld or Andy Griffith. But we also like cultural adventure. We may turn from a familiar film on cable’s AMC to discover a new movie from Iran or India on the Sundance Channel. We seek new stories and new places to go—those aspects of culture that demonstrate originality and complexity. For instance, James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake (1939) created language anew and challenged readers, as the novel’s poetic first sentence illustrates: “riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.” A revolutionary work, crammed with historical names and topical references to events, myths, songs, jokes, and daily conversation, Joyce’s novel remains a challenge to understand and decode. His work demonstrated that part of what culture provides is the impulse to explore new places, to strike out in new directions, searching for something different that may contribute to growth and change.

A Wide Range of Messages

We know that people have complex cultural tastes, needs, and interests based on different backgrounds and dispositions. It is not surprising, then, that our cultural treasures, from blues music and opera to comic books and classical literature, contain a variety of messages. Just as Shakespeare’s plays—popular entertainments in his day—were packed with both obscure and popular references, TV episodes of The Simpsons have included allusions to the Beatles, Kafka, Teletubbies, Tennessee Williams, Apple, Star Trek, The X-Files, Freud, Psycho, and Citizen Kane. In other words, as part of an ongoing process, cultural products and their meanings are “all over the map,” spreading out in diverse directions.

Challenging the Nostalgia for a Better Past

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PRIDEANDPREJUDICE AND ZOMBIES is a famous “mash-up”—a new creative work made by mixing together disparate cultural pieces. In this case, the classic novel by Jane Austen is reimagined as taking place among zombies and ninjas, mixing elements of English literature and horror and action films. Usually intended as satire, such mash-ups allow us to enjoy an array of cultural elements in a single work and are a direct contradiction to the cultural hierarchy model. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (Quirk Books)

Some critics of popular culture assert—often without presenting supportive evidence—that society was better off before the latest developments in mass media. These critics resist the idea of reimagining an established cultural hierarchy as a multidirectional map. The nostalgia for some imagined “better past” has often operated as a device for condemning new cultural phenomena. This impulse to criticize something that is new is often driven by fear of change or of cultural differences. Back in the nineteenth century, in fact, a number of intellectuals and politicians worried that rising literacy rates among the working class might create havoc: How would the aristocracy and intellectuals maintain their authority and status if everyone could read? A recent example includes the fear that some politicians, religious leaders, and citizens have expressed about the legalization of same-sex marriage, claiming that it would violate older religious tenets or the sanctity of past traditions.

Throughout history, a call to return to familiar terrain, to “the good old days,” has been a frequent response to new, “threatening” forms of popular culture or to any ideas that are different from what we already believe. Yet over the years many of these forms, including the waltz, silent movies, ragtime, and jazz, have themselves become cultural “classics.” How can we tell now what the future has in store for such cultural expressions as rock and roll, soap operas, fashion photography, dance music, hip-hop, tabloid newspapers, graphic novels, reality TV, and social media?

Cultural Values of the Modern Period

To understand how the mass media have come to occupy their current cultural position, we need to trace significant changes in cultural values from the modern period until today. In general, U.S. historians and literary scholars think of the modern period as beginning with the Industrial Revolution of the nineteenth century and extending until about the mid-twentieth century. Although there are many ways to define what it means to be “modern,” we will focus on four major features or values that resonate best with changes across media and culture: efficiency, individualism, rationalism, and progress.

Modernization involved captains of industry using new technology to create efficient manufacturing centers, produce inexpensive products to make everyday life better, and make commerce more profitable. Printing presses and assembly lines made major contributions in this transformation, and then modern advertising spread the word about new gadgets to American consumers. In terms of culture, the modern mantra has been “form follows function.” For example, the growing populations of big cities placed a premium on space, creating a new form of building that fulfilled that functional demand by building upwards. Modern skyscrapers made of glass, steel, and concrete replaced the supposedly wasteful decorative and ornate styles of premodern Gothic cathedrals. This new value was echoed in journalism, where a front-page style rejected decorative and ornate adjectives and adverbs for “just the facts.” To be lean and efficient, modern news de-emphasized complex analysis and historical context and elevated the new and the now.

Cultural responses to and critiques of modern efficiency often manifested themselves in the mass media. For example, in Brave New World (1932), Aldous Huxley created a fictional world in which he cautioned readers that the efficiencies of modern science and technology posed a threat to individual dignity. Charlie Chaplin’s film Modern Times (1936), set in a futuristic manufacturing plant, also told the story of the dehumanizing impact of modernization and machinery. Writers and artists, in their criticisms of the modern world, have often pointed to technology’s ability to alienate people from one another, capitalism’s tendency to foster greed, and government’s inclination to create bureaucracies whose inefficiency oppresses rather than helps people.

While the values of the premodern period (before the Industrial Revolution) were guided by a strong belief in a natural or divine order, modernization elevated individual self-expression to a more central position. Modern print media allowed ordinary readers to engage with new ideas beyond what their religious leaders and local politicians communicated to them. Modern individualism and the Industrial Revolution also triggered new forms of hierarchy in which certain individuals and groups achieved higher standing in the social order. For example, those who managed commercial enterprises gained more control over the economic ladder, while an intellectual class of modern experts acquired increasing power over the nation’s economic, political, and cultural agendas.

To be modern also meant valuing the ability of logical and scientific minds to solve problems by working in organized groups and expert teams. Progressive thinkers maintained that the printing press, the telegraph, and the railroad, in combination with a scientific attitude, would foster a new type of informed society. At the core of this society, the printed mass media—particularly newspapers—would educate the citizenry, helping to build and maintain an organized social framework.18

A leading champion for an informed rational society was Walter Lippmann, who wrote the influential book Public Opinion in 1922. He distrusted both the media and the public’s ability to navigate a world that was “altogether too big, too complex, and too fleeting for direct acquaintance,” and to reach the rational decisions needed in a democracy. Instead, he advocated a “machinery of knowledge” that might be established through “intelligence bureaus” staffed by experts. While such a concept might look like the modern think tank, Lippmann saw these as independent of politics, unlike think tanks today, such as the Brookings Institution or the Heritage Foundation, which have strong partisan ties.19

Walter Lippmann’s ideas were influential throughout the twentieth century and were a product of the Progressive Era—a period of political and social reform that lasted roughly from the 1890s to the 1920s. On both local and national levels, Progressive Era reformers championed social movements that led to constitutional amendments for both Prohibition and women’s suffrage, political reforms that led to the secret ballot during elections, and economic reforms that ushered in the federal income tax to try to foster a more equitable society. Muckrakers—journalists who exposed corruption, waste, and scandal in business and politics—represented media’s significant contribution to this era (see Chapter 9).

Influenced by the Progressive movement, the notion of being modern in the twentieth century meant throwing off the chains of the past, breaking with tradition, and embracing progress. For example, twentieth-century journalists, in their quest for modern efficiency, focused on “the now” and the reporting of timely events. Newly standardized forms of front-page journalism that championed “just the facts” and events that “just happened yesterday” did help reporters efficiently meet tight deadlines. But realizing one of Walter Lippmann’s fears, modern newspapers often failed to take a historical perspective or to analyze sufficiently the ideas and interests underlying these events.

Shifting Values in Postmodern Culture

For many people, the changes occurring in the postmodern period—from roughly the mid-twentieth century to today—are identified by a confusing array of examples: music videos, remote controls, Nike ads, shopping malls, fax machines, e-mail, video games, blogs, USA Today, YouTube, iPads, hip-hop, and reality TV (see Table 1.1). Some critics argue that postmodern culture represents a way of seeing—a new condition, or even a malady, of the human spirit. Although there are many ways to define the postmodern, this textbook focuses on four major features or values that resonate best with changes across media and culture: populism, diversity, nostalgia, and paradox.

Trend Premodern (pre-1800s) Modern Industrial Revolution (1800s-1950s) Postmodern (1950s-present)
Work hierarchies peasants/merchants/rulers factory workers/managers/national CEOs temp workers/global CEOs
Major work sites field/farm factory/office office/home/“virtual” or mobile office
Communication reach local national global
Communication transmission oral/manuscript print/electronic electronic/digital
Communication channels storytellers/elders/town criers books/newspapers/magazines/radio television/cable/Internet/multimedia
Communication at home quill pen typewriter/office computer personal computer/laptop/smartphone/social networks
Key social values belief in natural or divine order individualism/rationalism/efficiency/antitradition antihierarchy/skepticism (about science, business, government, etc.)/diversity/multiculturalism/irony & paradox
Journalism oral & print-based/partisan/controlled by political parties print-based/“objective”/efficient/timely/controlled by publishing families TV- & Internet-based/opinionated/conversational/controlled by global entertainment conglomerates
Table 1.1: TABLE 1.1 TRENDS ACROSS HISTORICAL PERIODS

As a political idea, populism tries to appeal to ordinary people by highlighting or even creating an argument or conflict between “the people” and “the elite.” In virtually every campaign, populist politicians often tell stories and run ads that criticize big corporations and political favoritism. Meant to resonate with middle-class values and regional ties, such narratives generally pit southern or midwestern small-town “family values” against the supposedly coarser, even corrupt, urban lifestyles associated with big cities like Washington or Los Angeles.

In postmodern culture, populism has manifested itself in many ways. For example, artists and performers, like Chuck Berry in “Roll Over Beethoven” (1956) or Queen in “Bohemian Rhapsody” (1975), intentionally blurred the border between high and low culture. In the visual arts, following Andy Warhol’s 1960s pop art style, advertisers have borrowed from both fine art and street art, while artists appropriated styles from commerce and popular art. Film stars, like Angelina Jolie and Ben Affleck, often champion oppressed groups while appearing in movies that make the actors wealthy global icons of consumer culture.

Other forms of postmodern style blur modern distinctions not only between art and commerce but also between fact and fiction. For example, television vocabulary now includes infotainment (such as Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood) and infomercials (such as fading celebrities selling antiwrinkle cream). On cable, MTV’s reality programs—such as The Real World and 16 and Pregnant—blur boundaries between the staged and the real, mixing serious themes and personal challenges with comedic interludes and romantic entanglements; Comedy Central’s fake news programs, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and The Colbert Report, have combined real, insightful news stories with biting satires of traditional broadcast and cable news programs.

Closely associated with populism, another value (or vice) of the postmodern period is the emphasis on diversity and fragmentation, including the wild juxtaposition of old and new cultural styles. In a suburban shopping mall, for instance, Gap stores border a food court with Vietnamese, Italian, and Mexican options, while techno-digitized instrumental versions of 1960s protest music play in the background to accompany shoppers. Part of this stylistic diversity involves borrowing and transforming earlier ideas from the modern period. In music, hip-hop deejays and performers sample old R&B, soul, and rock classics, both reinventing old songs and creating something new. Critics of postmodern style contend that such borrowing devalues originality, emphasizing surface over depth and recycled ideas over new ones. Throughout the twentieth century, for example, films were adapted from books and short stories. More recently, films often derive from old popular TV series: Mission Impossible, Charlie’s Angels, and The A-Team, to name just a few. Video games like the Resident Evil franchise and Tomb Raider have been made into Hollywood blockbusters. In fact, by 2013, more than twenty-five video games, including BioShock and the Warcraft series, were in various stages of script or film development.

Another tendency of postmodern culture involves rejecting rational thought as “the answer” to every social problem, reveling instead in nostalgia for the premodern values of small communities, traditional religion, and even mystical experience. Rather than seeing science purely as enlightened thinking or rational deduction that relies on evidence, some artists, critics, and politicians criticize modern values for laying the groundwork for dehumanizing technological advances and bureaucratic problems. For example, in the renewed debates over evolution, one cultural narrative that plays out often pits scientific evidence against religious belief and literal interpretations of the Bible. And in popular culture, many TV programs—such as The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed, Angel, Lost, and Fringe—emerged to offer mystical and supernatural responses to the “evils” of our daily world and the limits of science and the purely rational.

Lastly, the fourth aspect of our postmodern time is the willingness to accept paradox. While modern culture emphasized breaking with the past in the name of progress, postmodern culture stresses integrating—or converging—retro beliefs and contemporary culture. So at the same time that we seem nostalgic for the past, we embrace new technologies with a vengeance. For example, fundamentalist religious movements that promote seemingly outdated traditions (e.g., rejecting women’s rights to own property or seek higher education) still embrace the Internet and modern technology as recruiting tools or as channels for spreading messages. Culturally conservative politicians, who seem most comfortable with the values of the 1950s nuclear family, welcome talk shows, Twitter, Facebook, and Internet and social media ad campaigns as venues to advance their messages and causes.

Although, as modernists warned, new technologies can isolate people or encourage them to chase their personal agendas (e.g., a student perusing his individual interests online), new technologies can also draw people together to advance causes; to solve community problems; or to discuss politics on radio talk shows, Facebook, or smartphones. For example, in 2011 and 2012, Twitter made the world aware of protesters in many Arab nations, including Egypt and Libya, when governments there tried to suppress media access. Our lives today are full of such incongruities.

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FILMS OFTEN REFLECT THE KEY SOCIAL VALUES of an era—as represented by the modern and postmodern movies pictured. Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times (1936, above left) satirized modern industry and the dehumanizing impact of a futuristic factory on its overwhelmed workers. Similarly, Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982, above right), set in futuristic Los Angeles in 2019, questioned the impact on humanity when technology overwhelms the natural world. Author William Romanowski suggested of Blade Runner in Pop Culture Wars that the movie managed to “capture some postmodern themes” that were not fully recognized then by “trying to balance the promise of technology with the threats of technology.”20 © Warner Bros./Photofest (left) Chaplin/Zuma Press (right)