Twitter, Mumbai and the Climate of Fear

Fearing Fear Itself

In this scene from 25th Hour, undoubtedly Spike Lee’s finest film, Ed Norton’s character rages against New York’s multiculturalism after 9/11. A convicted drug-dealer, he’s spending his last day on the outside before being sent down for seven years. As he reveals at the end of the scene, his anger and bile are an attempt mask a closely related emotion; he is scared stiff.

Fear is powerful. Fear is so powerful it allowed Bush to occupy the White House for eight long years. Simon Jenkins recently said that America and the West must, in Roosevelt’s words, stop fearing fear itself:

“Virtually all comment on the Mumbai massacre has mentioned 9/11 and al-Qaida, and thus invited citizens to continue feeling afraid. No matter that Mumbai appears to have been primarily about Kashmir and the status of India’s Muslims. No matter that Osama bin Laden has no dog in that fight. Any stick will do to elevate al-Qaida as America’s enemy number one.”

In the words of Biz Stone, the cofounder of Twitter, news has now gone real-time. This, in my words, is the perfect incubator for this climate of fear to thrive.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of Twitter. I think its an excellent way for people to meet like minded people and to share things of interest. But, for the time being at least, as a news-breaking platform it is a fundamentally flawed journalistic tool and should be used with caution.

In his blog, Rory Cellan-Jones expands on the lecture we received from him last week:

“Each time a major disaster occurs there is more material available from witnesses – or citizen journalists – and smart mainstream media outlets are having to learn how to access that content. Twitter is the latest.

What Twitter has done is to provide instant information about anything that is happening near its millions of users, coupled with a brilliant way of sharing that information. What it doesn’t do is tell us what is true and what isn’t – and that makes the work of mainstream media outlets and professional reporters all the more relevant.”

Problematically, the modern media climate is preoccupied with 24-hour, up-to-the-minute news coverage and is embroiled in a constant scramble to find and break the story before its competitors. Seemingly within seconds, they’ll then wheel in any expert they can get their hands on for some ‘in-depth analysis.’

This isn’t a new thing. News is a perishable commodity and reporters have been looking for the next scoop for as long as news has existed within a competitive market. But as the digital revolution continues to speed news production up, so the time required to check and re-check facts and to develop investigative, analytical journalism is further compromised. And there seems to be a correlation between quick news and sensational news.

And let’s admit it, there are few better stories more universally interesting and emotionally resonant than terrorism.

At every available opportunity our media reports stories, depicts scenarios, speculates and frets about the latest attempt to destroy our decent, reasonable way of life by some cave-dwelling, nihilistic, self-regarding fundamentalist or some home-grown, bearded and track-suited radical.

The Washington Post, one of the most respected and influential news institutions in the world, has as I write an opinion piece by Richard A.Clarke as one of its lead articles. I stress the word opinion. The piece is titled “Plan of Attack,” and Clarke is ostensibly arguing that the Mumbai attacks are just part of an al-Qaida meta-plan, supplementing his argument with a half-baked dramatisation of Bin-Laden’s latest video. He concludes that the terrorists are winning.

Apart from selling papers, does this sort of journalism equate to the notions of truth-seeking that the industry was built on. Bin-Laden is probably sitting back, having his beard de-knitted and re-upholstering his cave while we do his job for him.

If you combine this mentality with the media’s newfound reliance on citizen journalism, particularly in times of crisis, then you have a potential flammable compound.

One of the first pictures, sent by a witness, of the No.30 bus in Tavistock Square during the 7/7 terrorist attacks.

As Mindy McAdams says in her post Twitter Mumbai and 10 facts about journalism now:

“Breaking news — especially disasters and attacks in the middle of a city — will be covered first by non-journalists. The non-journalists will continue providing new information even after the trained journalists arrive on the scene.”

This, in essence is a good thing. But it places an even greater responsibility on the professionals to do what they are employed to- sift through the dust and unearth the details.

And if they fail to do this- if they allow technology to cloud what their primary role is- we have a situation in which the media becomes guilty of escalating the confusion and hysteria that inevitably surrounds something like Mumbai.

The BBC, the bastion of responsible journalism, have come under sustained criticism and have partly apologised for their use of Twitter to cover Mumbai without checking any of the sources. They forgot first principles.

As Jeff Jarvis says in his post When Witnesses Take Over the News:

“Sometimes events are complicated, and we simply need to wait for more information to emerge before we can understand it. But many of us—not just the pundits—don’t have the humility to accept that. We want to feel in control, at least on an intellectual level, so reasons and theories emerge. But the world is really far too complicated for us.”

We’re in the knowledge and truth business, but we often forget about that. With our ever-increasing exposure to, usage of and reliability on such social-media sites as Twitter to cover breaking news, Cellan-Jones is right to say that the job of taking a step back from the fray and working out what is actually worth knowing and verifiably true is increasingly becoming the primary role of the journalist.

The Talmud sums it up nicely:

“Who forces time is pushed back by time; who yields to time finds time on his side.”

The End of Paper and Ink

Hangover Revelations

Wet Book and Razor Blade. Flickr Creative Commons

A Saturday morning in November, the Cardiff sky an opaque grey, phone lines swaying with the wind as I forged my away across town. Head bent against the cold, my mind excavating and reforming dross in a poor apology for thought, chewing gum to avoid the acrid, ashtray taste of last night’s small hours, stopping only to avoid the pools of dirty water already perforating my broken shoes. One motivation alone, to take solace in the small comforts of a warm pub, live football, weekend paper, dirty food, idle banter and probably, finally, more beer.

At this moment, as I stalked down Woodville Road with my eyes fixed to the pavement, I experienced a moment that alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.

Lying beneath my feet was the page of a book ripped from its spine, the jag of the tear intersecting the carefully fonted words. A few steps later lay another, and then another. And then a record, the ringed disc slightly jutting out of its sleeve, the psychedelic, tie-dye cover standing against the mercury of the paving slabs.

I looked up and saw the front garden of a terraced house piled high with what seemed to be hundreds of books and records that had been tossed out of the front door and now lay discarded and useless. I stopped amongst those that had fallen over the wall and now lay on the pavement, and surveyed this small apocalypse. Paper and print and audio-media you can touch lay redundant, casually dismissed. Yesterday’s technology, ink running, pages turning in the wind, beginning to rot in the falling rain.

As I stood absorbing this, the opening horns of Otis Redding’s A Change is Gonna Come began to play on my iPod. I’d compiled the content of my iPod randomly and was playing it on the shuffle setting, so the way this piece of serendipity came together seemed to be almost filmic in its creation, as if someone was watching me.

Originally written by Sam Cooke in 1963 and covered by any number of black artists, A Change is Gonna Come is regarded as synonymous with the civil rights movement. Indeed, it’s arguably a direct influence on Obama’s celebrated rhetoric. But, transcending the song’s socio-political significance, it is a statement about the belief in the reliability of change.

Last week’s lecture from Antony Mayfield, Head of Content and Media at iCrossings, succinctly communicated that we are in the throes of a fundamental revolution, a re-calibration that can be talked of in the same breath as the advent of the printing press and the camera. Mayfield, unlike some of his compatriots, was genuinely optimistic about the future and therefore offered a much broader perspective. A history graduate, he described how senior monks opposed the invention of printing, instead continuing to advocate the laborious process of writing out a book word for word because it provided more time for thought, recollection and investment with the subject.

When I first started this blog I sympathized with those who repelled the new technologies of the day. Now I’m reformed, a true believer. As Michael Rosenblum illustrates, the digitalisation, continued fragmentation and democratisation of our media is so inevitable, so inexorable that to try and suggest or rationalise against it is akin to trying to argue the Earth doesn’t revolve around the Sun or the BNP are a credible vote at the next election.

Regardless, we still have our fair share of illusionists and deniers and sentimentalists trying to tell us we’re on the cusp of a journalistic apocalypse. We’re not. People will still write, still be curious, still care about hard facts and the trade of information as they have done for centuries. We’re now just at the end of one format and the start of a new, wholly different frontier.

Rob Alderson’s blog make the great point that this is a process of creative disruption and within all this uncertainty there is one guiding force; Google. As Mayfield said:

“When Google first appeared, it changed everything. It made the internet work because its basic premise is to always put the user first.”

Therefore, there’s one thing we do know for definite about this new frontier; it will be completely and utterly defined by the collective conscience of the consumer. It has no choice but to be, because that’s what makes Google what it is. Bluddy ‘ell, at this rate we might be able to talk about the media as a genuine public service.

There is another side. The media industry still hasn’t worked out how to make money out of the net and, until this is resolved, this is a problem because unfortunately nothing comes for free.

For all the convenience of Web 2.0, for all its rich potential for journalism, communication and as a tool for information in a democratic hyper-reality, is it giving rise to a something-for-nothing-culture? If so, we could end up with an indiscriminate, sourceless media, obsessed with the next new platform and 24/7, up-to-the-minute breaking news whilst failing to give due notice and attention to credible voices saying significant things. The tabloidisation of our media, revolving around a blogosphere based on inference, agenda and an axe to grind cannot compare to carefully considered analysis, indisputable information and a statutory obligation to objectivity.

The sight of those books so brutally exposed to the elements was both anarchic and forlorn, a sobering illustration of the cold reality of the modern day. Print is now no more than an exercise in nostalgia, a casualty of human innovation.

We are now collectively precipitating on an uncertain, undefined path. If we’re not careful, if we fail to keep in mind the principles that journalism is built on, then this remorseless period of change could be regressive. I, for one, want to prove the illusionists and deniers and sentimentalists wrong.

The Digital Gangster

In a new age of democracy, who really controls the web?


Finn McGovern: [to John Rooney] “You rule this town as God rules the Earth.”

John Rooney: “Open your eyes! This is the life we chose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see heaven.”

The digital revolution heralds the end of the monopoly of control that the newspaper industry had over access to news. The elitism of a few dictating to the many about how to perceive the world is long gone, and inspiring journalists now have to try and work out how to fit into this brave new world of free comment and hope to get a bit of cash out of it.

This provides an opportunity for journalists to define ourselves in a way that isn’t reliant on an umbrella organisation. I am now my own brand, with complete control over my media identity. I can mould and re-mould it in any way I want.

Surprisingly, I have some reservations and I’m going to try to articulate them through a slightly unusual prism. The night before I attended a lecture on online journalism I decided to host a personal tribute to the late Paul Newman by watching his last screen role as an Irish mafioso boss called John Rooney in Sam Mendes’ ‘Road to Perdition.’

Despite a strong start, which I’ve embedded above, the film is a pretty poor tribute. Newman’s performance is diluted by the needless intrusive direction of Sam ‘I used to work in the theatre by the way, can you tell?’ Mendes.  I went to bed disappointed but, during the lecture, the subject matter of ‘Road to Perdition’ felt strangely salient.

Although ‘Road to Perdition’ is ostensibly a fatherhood drama or a revenge drama, its real subject matter is the same as any other American Gangster film; It’s about very powerful men who dominate people’s lives in a way that is almost completely covert and impossible to quantify. In ‘Road to Perdition,’ Newman’s character has lovingly and carefully nurtured a universe in which his sphere of influence is almost total. Within this universe, Newman protects those under his stewardship, he rewards those loyal to him and punishes those who are disobedient. He governs right and wrong.

The irony and dramatic interest is that, of course, Newman and others like him are not always benign. They’re self-interested, they’re ruthless and unsentimental, and if something goes wrong they never take the hit because they’ve designed a system in which they can never be tied to anything.

There’s one very central factor that is bypassed in the current celebration of Web 2.0 and its significance for modern journalism. Let’s not forget about the big, pink but apparently very shaky elephant in the room called capitalism. As is the nature of a consumer-driven culture, where there is a demand for something there will be somebody making money out of it. This is true of internet platforms as it is of anything else but I feel that we the consumers have very little exposure to it.

In football, for example, this is glaringly apparent. Most Premiership football clubs who were traditionally owed by shareholders are now leering and flashing a bit of thigh at billionaires from around the world in the hope of a massive cash influx. Manchester City, for example, have had a Thai dictator who is facing a trial for crimes against humanity and a multibillionaire from Dubai who has, in the past, sponsored Islamofasict organisations, currently sat in their director’s box. In both cases, how they procured their wealth appears to be a shady topic, but no-one seems to mind because they are providing something that the blue half of Manchester, and the nation as a whole, have an insatiable appetite for; high-quality football.

To be honest, I do not profess to have much of an idea about how internet companies make their millions. I haven’t up to now met anybody that has. I suspect it isn’t just created by advertising (which seems to be the simple and accepted answer) and the truth is far more complex and far more dubious. Maybe I’ve read too much Orwell, but I can’t help but suspect that there are some very powerful figures present in the digital world whom the general public know very little about and have little compulsion to investigate.

The commentator Jeff Jarvis wrote:

“Give the people control of media, they will use it. Don’t give people control of media, and you will lose them.”

This begs a question; who does actually control the internet media? He seems to be suggesting that whoever has control must bestow it upon the masses in order to survive. But, from watching films like ‘Road to Perdition,’ we know that those at the top don’t give up power easily to those below them. Instead, they pretend to relinquish control and slip into the background where they can pull the strings and get the button men to do the dirty work if any serious threat arises.

Can we, therefore, sign up to the notion that Web 2.0 is a democratic platform in which no single individual or group of individuals have control over the internet? Or are we in fact, in a Durkheimian way, just sheep bleating away and being herded from one pen to another by invisible and pernicious puppet masters? Master’s of the Universe, the Godfather’s of the Internet, loosening their ties, chinking their glasses and toasting the mirage of web 2.0, safe in the knowledge that they will never take a hit.

The Western Wide Web

The Most Liberal Form of Interventionism. 

Computerised impression of the net

I was five when the Berlin Wall fell. When I was five, I spent most of my time chasing my cat around my garden in Sheffield and my perception of a serious time (to borrow some Brownite rhetoric) was scraping my knee or getting barked at by my Mum. The terms ‘world wide web,’ ‘liberal democracy’ and ‘freedom of expression’ meant nothing.

As I have grown older and less blissfully ignorant, these terms have assumed more and more significance to me as an individual, and arguably to the world in which I live.

Growing up as part of the post-cold war generation, I have been witness to a golden age of Western values. Democracy has entrenched and spread across the world, the boundaries between both individuals and states have diminished and we can now talk with confidence about ‘the international community’ and ‘the global village’ where the hallowed god of freedom of expression rules over all. There is one overwhelming reason why all this has come about- the incomprehensible growth and influence of the internet.

However, not all is quiet on the Western Front. For a plethora of reasons, many of them self-inflicted, Western values are now under a sustained attack. The dramatic and abject failure of market capitalism, terrorism and our misguided responses to it, the blackmail created by our increasing and impotent reliance on fossil fuels bought from less than friendly states, the rise and rise of capitalist autocracy, encapsulated by the Beijing Olympics and Russia’s invasion of Georgia, and the compromising of the potentials of liberal interventionism through a potent mixture of hubris and complacency have all contributed. Timothy Garton Ash‘s article offers a far better illustration of this.

Either way, as I write this it is clear that, in a way unparalleled with any other period throughout my reasonably short life, the Western world is now facing a serious time.

David Miliband is also young enough to be considered to be a post-cold war person, or at least a post-cold war politician. In a recent interview in Prospect, Dave coins the phrase ‘the civilian surge’ in order to characterise the individual’s relation with both the internet and the state: 

“The civilian surge is the idea that around the world people who have hugely different access to opportunities and wealth nonetheless inhabit an increasingly common universe where mobile phones can tell bloggers in Iran or protestors in Burma or street kids in Nairobi about how life can be- that creates a different context for international politics.”

It is almost a cliché to state that the West has revolutionised the way that we interact globally and that we are barely scratching the surface of what we can achieve through the internet. The internet has, we are told, heralded a new age of meritocracy. An elite dictating to the many is now a thing of the past, to be replaced by a democratic forum made by the people for the people.

However, a basic analysis of statistics expose this as an idealism. According to Bridge the Digital Divide , a UK charity dedicated to spreading I.T to all parts of the globe: 

‘Less than 1 in every 1000 people have access to a computer in the developing world, compared to 600 in every 1000 in the developed world.’ 

Around 5 per cent of Africans can log on, compared to over three quarters of North Americans. The numbers, though, are changing rapidly and there is clear evidence to suggest that the ‘civilian surge’ is well under way.

It seems the inference is clear.  Miliband sees the world wide web as something more akin to the Western Wide Web. A purveyor of Western values to people across the world who may not, in their none-web lives, have the benefit of being able to speak with impunity about their concerns, wishes or convictions.

And anotherA seductress, an ever present temptation to all those who want in, or are at least just curious. ‘Hey check us out,’ the Western Wide Web is saying to the silent majority on the other side of the ideological fence.   ‘Look at our shiny new things. It’s free to log in, it doesn’t ask questions. Anything you need to know is a few clicks away. By the way, fancy a blog? That’s right, you can say anything you want without censorship or fear of retribution. Just don’t tell Putin or Hu Jintao.’

After six years of continuous military conflict in the Middle East, the West has only just begun to understand that the War on Terror is actually about hearts and minds, as the use of hard power results in both an inextricable and unwinnable campaign (assuming the inverse exists) against an elusive and infinitely regenerative enemy.

Recently, I read that the British Army recently undertook Operation Dam Fixer, the most dangerous operation in their history. It consisted of driving a convoy  100 miles through the Taliban controlled heartland of Helmand Province in order to deliver a 200 tonne hydro-generator. The result? Electricity to 2 million Afghans. Maybe they can log on now.

The internet, despite ostensibly being the ‘world wide web’ was created by, is predominantly possessed by, communicates and advertises the Western world. Despite this impression of globalisation, in reality the web communicates an explicit political, sociological and ideological narrative, one that maybe difficult to discern to those of us so accustomed to it.

The internet is a creation by the free world, designed largely for the use of the free world, and inviting those outside of the free world to get involved. It’s cultural liberal interventionism at its most liberal and unobtrusive. Is it surprising that they heavily censor the net in most autocracies? Who can blame them?

So, in this new dialectic, the Russian’s have their tanks and their gas. The Chinese have their factories and their workforce, the terrorists have their training camps and bomb formulas, and the West has the internet.

Without meaning to sound too much like George W, ours is the most potent weapon with the greatest reach and ability to evolve. With it on our side, the future is ours.

The Demise of Old News

A Cheap Massage

 picture-41

Whilst feebly attempting to ingratiate myself to journalists on various regional papers in the North of England, I have had to field the question on numerous occasions of why I want to be a journalist at a time when the entire industry is going to hell. It is tempting to sit here and characterise this view as the doom-prophesying of a few small-time, washed-out, pint-gripping, sermonising, brow-beating no-hopers clinging on for their retirement before the sea of change can sweep them away.

It seems, however, that these concerns are shared by widely respected and internationally renowned journalists. Guardian News and Media Executive Emily Bell used the phrases “systematic collapse” and “unprecedented carnage” in a recent speech to the think-tank Polis.  In a similar vein, the current assistant-editor of the Guardian, Dr David Leigh articulated an impending dystopia for good old fashioned reporting in his Inaugural lecture. He talks nostalgically of cutting his teeth on The Scotsman in the 1960s before concluding:

“This primitive process of heavy engineering was romantic and dirty. None of us realised at the time just how absolutely doomed it was, from top to bottom. What remains is now produced in a glass rabbit-hutch with a bank of computer screens, by two men and a dog. It is dying quietly.”

The uncouth Marxist that exists within me wants to suggest those at the top are more concerned about the loss of a media unconfined to a liberal elite rather than a general decay of journalistic standards. Maybe this across-board horror at the prospect of a digital revolution is indicative of a liberal elite out of touch with and therefore resisting the tools of the next generation. But, if Leigh and Bell are right and the page is turning on the world of the newspaper, it is worth acknowledging that the current debate about Web 2.0’s significance for modern journalism is framed by a very simple physical hinderance.  The internet and particularly the gleaming screen of internet news is still a very new thing. I was born before it was, and my generation are really the first to be versed in its uses and workings.

My Mum had to learn how to use a computer and it was quite literally a blood, sweat and tears job. Hilarious to watch. My Dad still employs the classic pose of index finger poised over keyboard, tongue sticking out at a peculiar angle, forehead like a Klingon. Watching him write an email is a bit like watching a guy with a broken arm eat a boiled egg.

As I am inherently far more media savvy than my parents, so my kids will be receptive to new media in ways that will render my technological ability as roughly equivalent to the chimps at the start of 2001. Around the same time I’m sure will be probably be heralding the death of journalism due to the erosion of values and standards by the usurping generation.

Therefore, it’s probably worth listening to people like David Leigh, and to reject the notion of an indiscriminate, sourceless media, obsessed with the next new ‘platform’ and 24/7, up-the-minute breaking news whilst failing to give due notice and attention to a credible voice saying significant things.

The mass media can shine a light,” he says. “Or they can reflect back light. The Daily Mail, for example, deliberately make a highly-profitable business out of telling people what they think they know already. They reflect back their existing beliefs. They reassure their target audience by hammering the world into a shape that suits their prejudices.  This is less an information service than a form of cheap massage.”

For all the convenience of Web 2.0, for all its rich potential for journalism, communication and as a tool for information in a democratic hyper-reality, it seems to be giving rise to a something-for-nothing-culture. Then what will be left with? The inexorable tabloidisation of our media, a blogosphere based on inference, agenda and an axe to grind over carefully considered analysis, indisputable information and a statutory obligation to objectivity. An unmediated media acting as a cheap massage – convenient and soothing, but fleeting and ultimately (sometimes hopefully) inconsequential.

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