News under glass

We spent the holidays visiting family in (rainy) Maryland, and took advantage of a break in the weather to drive up to DC and visit the Newseum, a museum about the development and dissemination of "news"—which the museum's publicity describes as "the first rough draft of history." Like other museums in DC, this one deserves more than a day, but we did it significant justice during the 6 or 7 hours we spent there.

The first display I spotted set the tone for my day. It was about the Berlin Wall—especially significant to me because I visited that Cold War-divided city in 1963, shortly after the wall was built. I was among a group of high school exchange students, making a stop in Berlin as we headed home from our stay in Germany. I remember our carefully orchestrated and closely guided visit to the eastern sector, where the streets seemed deserted and the mood somber compared with the lively progressiveness of West Berlin. I recall standing on the American side, looking at a section of the wall where, instead of the huge concrete slabs we saw come down in 1989 TV broadcasts, "the wall" was simply the sides of deserted buildings, the windows bricked over. In some places, I saw flower pots on the windowsills, blank rows of bricks behind them. I actually picked up a brick from the ground near where I stood, imagining (accurately or not) that it came from one of those buildings—and hence, from "The Wall." I don't know what happened to that brick over the years, but seeing the display of concrete sections from the wall and the accompanying pictures showing East Berlin, just beyond the American checkpoint, took me back to those days in Berlin. It also took me back to the televised scenes of the wall's being demolished decades later. I was at a conference, in a hotel room. My mom had travelled with me, and we were watching this amazing historical moment together. She knew I'd been to Berlin long before, but had no idea, I think, of the emotional impact of that moment—or rather, those moments, separated by decades.

These memories ushered in a day's reflection about the portrayal of "history" in journalistic media—i.e., in the news, history's rough draft.  The Newseum is really a meta-museum: it houses a significant trove of historical journalistic artifacts (photos, videos, sound recordings, etc.), but for me, the intriguing part of this place was not so much those bits of information as their role as examples of how events are covered—and shaped—by media coverage. We encountered repeated references to journalism as objective, to journalists striving for objectivity, the aim always to present "just the facts." But my own long-term conviction that this sort of value-neutral position is impossible actually fit better with my experience of the Newseum. News journalism,  rather than news content, was under the magnifying glass—and that journalism inevitably embodied (subjective) values and judgments.

The memories evoked by Berlin Wall installation had already convinced me of this. When the first bricks were laid in those windows in 1961, no one but the locals knew about it. But when the concrete slabs began to fall almost three decades later, with international television cameras rolling, what could have been a local event (if one of major proportions) instantly became a worldwide happening, with the media coverage both displaying the moment and shaping the direction of the Cold War by how it displayed the moment.  Imagine, for instance, if the authoritative voice-over from major television networks had described the event as a rampage by a group of right-wing hooligans intent on gaining publicity for their cause ... instead of the outpouring of joy from crowds of democracy-loving people intent on freeing the captive city of East Berlin. The same perspective provided a basis for the rest of the day.

With so many things to see, we singled out a couple themes of particular interest to us: the Civil Rights movement and Viet Nam. In keeping with my earlier comment about the impossibility of "objectivity," the representation of these topics had a great deal to say about how media coverage actually shaped, even as it presumed to objectively depict, these historical events.

In some cases, the use of media to shape history was intentional. For instance, the exhibit offers audio clips from leaders of the Civil Rights movement, such as SNCC leader John Lewis, and folks in the Federal government, like president Lyndon Johnson, specifically arguing that television coverage of police brutality toward African Americans would have an important—and positive—impact on the movement's progress. It did. The public outcry that arose in the wake of that media coverage gave Johnson the political leverage he needed to push through the Voting Rights Act of 1965. That this coverage was influenced by the values of the journalists reporting on the events was evident in several displays that juxtaposed various reports of a given event. The headlines for coverage of the "Bloody Sunday" confrontation between peaceful Civil Rights marchers and law enforcement officers in Selma, for instance, differed drastically according to the source. The Dallas Morning News headline reported, "Tear Gas Halts Negro March"–a pretty benign description. Tear gas isn't so awful, after all ... although the picture actually shows the police beating marchers with clubs. Compare that headline with Life magazine's front page coverage of the same event: "The Savage Season Begins." 

 

The Civil Rights exhibit evoked not only the 1960s movement but also recent events, such as Ferguson, MO, and other examples of police brutality in recent months. We also know about these events from media coverage—in this case, much of it social media, with videos, texts, and tweets telling the stories in real time. The public awareness that arose from that outpouring of (lay) journalism had immeasurable impact on how the history of those events unfolded. It wasn't only the events themselves—the deaths of Michael Brown and others—that brought about challenges to and (hopefully) changes in policing, but also the direct, unedited presentation of these stories on our screens, large and small. The process brought to immediate life the meta-story of the Newseum: the story of how news reporting influences, rather than just presents, history.

We found a similar  meta-narrative in the Viet Nam war installation. Folks who were around during that (undeclared) war may recall that early news coverage of the confllict was generally very positive, glorifying both the troops and the military progress being made. But soon, the official information provided by the military began to conflict with what journalists were seeing on the ground. As the credibility gap grew, journalists increasingly questioned the war and noted the declining morale among the troops. Back home, anti-war protests, which had been seen as radical acts of fringe youth groups, began to gain steam—and middle-class support. Here, too, a credibility gap emerged between official government positions and widespread public perceptions, mirroring the chasm between the views of the media and those of military officials in Viet Nam.

 

The military began to regard the media not as supportive but as hostile, with critical war reporting from overseas feeding the anti-war movement at home. Mainstream media portrayals of the youth-led anti-war movement shifted, from depicting protesters as radical hippy trouble-makers to recognizing their activism as a significant and justified political force. Over time, the very media outlets that had initially bolstered the war proved damaging to the government's pro-war position. Thus, news journalism influenced history, aiding the anti-war movement and thereby likely helping to speed the end of the war.

We ran out of time before we got to see everything we hoped to—like the section on the evolution of news from the 1500s to the present—but I'm willing to bet that you'd find similar themes in every corner of the Newseum. And I bet we'll be back.

The Newseum poses a crucial question: In what ways is the act of telling about something itself a story worth telling? To what degree is our "knowledge" not so much a description of reality but a value-laden hypothesis that has its own shaping power? To me, this is a fascinating question to explore—whether about news or about any other rendition of "objective truth." This meta-museum provides ample grist for this sort of intellectual mill. 

But I should mention that there are also moments of levity here. For instance, tiles in the restrooms bear examples of headlines that could have used some help before they saw the light of day. Others offer examples of "corrections" to previous stories (some of which themselves need correction), illustrating the remarkable mistakes that can be made in the name of covering the news.

All in all, it was a fine way to spend a day. I encourage you to visit if your travels get you close to DC. It's always hard to choose in DC—so many museums, so little time—but put this one high on your list. And plan to spend a day at when you get there.

© Janis Bohan, 2010-2016. Use of this content is welcome with attribution and a link to the post. 

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