Whatever mixaphors you want to come up with, it seems worth describing this article as, at the very least, problematic:
Male Humanities Professors Are Only In It For The Adulation
I should admit, I appreciate hearing some of the stories about professors', administrators', or colleagues' misdeeds. Because, quite frankly, of all the Forewarned-Forearmed scenarios I've contemplated, having a colleague "accidentally" play porn at me just hadn't made the list.
And now I know.
Now I have an exit strategy for just that scenario.
But the rest of the article didn't seem terribly helpful to me. Aside from the ludicrously attention-seeking over-reach in the article's
title (which I'm willing to set aside only for the sake of all my
journalist friends who insist that the writer never chooses the title), the conclusions don't seem warranted from the evidence, and the whole thing seems an exercise in scorn.
Overrepresenting the number of assholes in academia really doesn't do anyone any good.
Generalizing the behavior of idiots to all members of a group to which some idiots belong doesn't do anyone any good.
Suspecting the motives of people who have chosen a rather modest career path--one oriented towards helping others--doesn't do anyone any good.
I got into teaching in general, and teaching theology in particular, to do people some good.
I'm willing to believe that men, in general, are biologically programmed to put themselves a bit more on display when potential mates walk in the room. I'm willing to believe that happily married (or securely celibate) men, in general, are not entirely free of this biological imperative and may quite unconsciously "display" a little more when a pretty girl shows an interest.
But "getting attention from pretty co-eds" really doesn't make the list of reasons to choose academia. You could be a bartender to do that, and you'd probably make more money.
Showing posts with label journalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journalism. Show all posts
Saturday, January 04, 2014
Monday, May 02, 2011
Instantly Erroneous
I've been perusing the usual news sites last night and this morning, along with news sites I don't normally visit, thanks to the furious barrage of links and comments and speculation on my friends' facebook pages.
I've discovered that Fox News was reporting that Usama bin Landen [sic] was confrimed [sic] dead. Half an hour later, someone thought to become a professional and the two misspellings were corrected.
I've seen several websites (including wikipedia) announce confidently that Osama has been dead for a week; most of those sites now report that he was killed on May 1, 2011.
Some sites are currently reporting that Osama has been buried at sea, citing Islamic tradition and a general disinclination among the world's leaders to pollute their soil with his remains. Other sites are reporting that the US is maintaining its custody of his body in order to ensure acceptance of its claim to have killed him. I'm sure when an official statement is made as to the disposition of Osama's body, everyone will revise his website accordingly.
Some of my friends, especially those disinclined to trust anything with a liberal provenance, are already generating conspiracy theories to account for the discrepancies between Obama's official announcement and the maelstrom of unsubstantiated "facts" that overtook cybernews outlets while we were all waiting for that announcement.
Peace, be still, my friends.
There is no need for such speculation.
The explanation is far simpler and far more troubling.
The intentional impermanence of cyberspace combined with the demand for incessantly instantaneous news has created an ethos of irresponsibility in online reporting. Getting it out trumps getting it right.
In print media, the error abides; it gazes up at one, accusingly, preserved in library archives (what is the new microfiche?) for posterity. The penance only perpetuates the failure: the necessary published retraction ensures that there are two artifacts instead of one. The damage to the reporter's and the paper's reputation was tangible.
There is no failure in online reporting. There is no retraction, no mea culpa. There is only perpetual revision. Reputation need not matter.
And, of course, affiliation counts for more than accuracy these days anyway, doesn't it? One's political leanings (whether implied or avowed) are far more important for developing a loyal readership than one's accumulated record.
And if there is no more accumulated record? So much the better.
I've discovered that Fox News was reporting that Usama bin Landen [sic] was confrimed [sic] dead. Half an hour later, someone thought to become a professional and the two misspellings were corrected.
I've seen several websites (including wikipedia) announce confidently that Osama has been dead for a week; most of those sites now report that he was killed on May 1, 2011.
Some sites are currently reporting that Osama has been buried at sea, citing Islamic tradition and a general disinclination among the world's leaders to pollute their soil with his remains. Other sites are reporting that the US is maintaining its custody of his body in order to ensure acceptance of its claim to have killed him. I'm sure when an official statement is made as to the disposition of Osama's body, everyone will revise his website accordingly.
Some of my friends, especially those disinclined to trust anything with a liberal provenance, are already generating conspiracy theories to account for the discrepancies between Obama's official announcement and the maelstrom of unsubstantiated "facts" that overtook cybernews outlets while we were all waiting for that announcement.
Peace, be still, my friends.
There is no need for such speculation.
The explanation is far simpler and far more troubling.
The intentional impermanence of cyberspace combined with the demand for incessantly instantaneous news has created an ethos of irresponsibility in online reporting. Getting it out trumps getting it right.
In print media, the error abides; it gazes up at one, accusingly, preserved in library archives (what is the new microfiche?) for posterity. The penance only perpetuates the failure: the necessary published retraction ensures that there are two artifacts instead of one. The damage to the reporter's and the paper's reputation was tangible.
There is no failure in online reporting. There is no retraction, no mea culpa. There is only perpetual revision. Reputation need not matter.
And, of course, affiliation counts for more than accuracy these days anyway, doesn't it? One's political leanings (whether implied or avowed) are far more important for developing a loyal readership than one's accumulated record.
And if there is no more accumulated record? So much the better.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Science Reporting
I've been interested by a slight change that's been happening recently in science and medicine reporting. I've only noticed it in online AP articles, but perhaps those of you who watch TV or read other news sources can tell me how widespread the phenomenon is.
An example is this article. Like most science reporting I've seen, it mentions the results of the study, where the study was published, and a one-sentence "take-away" message from an "expert" in the field.
Unlike most science reporting I've seen, it mentions the methodology of the study and its source of funding.
I think this is an important step nearer to the sort of transparency that should characterize the communication of science to non-specialists. I have noticed several popular health trends for which the warrant was a single, poorly-designed study (or rather, ones for which the study was not designed in a manner which suggested an appropriate or effective course of action), inadequately or inaccurately reported by popular news sources.
Having the methodology and the potential for bias spelled out so clearly as in this article is a real service to the health consumer, as well as the merely-interested-in-medical-science non-scientist.
I've also noticed that the AP is being more transparent about the relationship between their "expert" sources and those who might have an interest in how a study is reported. Such an example does not appear in the article I linked above, but I've noticed many "expert opinions" tagged with such phrases as "suggests so-and-so, who was not involved in the study" or "commented so-and-so, who had not yet read the report in its entirety."
Again, this seems like a promising and appropriate move toward more transparency. Good thing, that.
An example is this article. Like most science reporting I've seen, it mentions the results of the study, where the study was published, and a one-sentence "take-away" message from an "expert" in the field.
Unlike most science reporting I've seen, it mentions the methodology of the study and its source of funding.
I think this is an important step nearer to the sort of transparency that should characterize the communication of science to non-specialists. I have noticed several popular health trends for which the warrant was a single, poorly-designed study (or rather, ones for which the study was not designed in a manner which suggested an appropriate or effective course of action), inadequately or inaccurately reported by popular news sources.
Having the methodology and the potential for bias spelled out so clearly as in this article is a real service to the health consumer, as well as the merely-interested-in-medical-science non-scientist.
I've also noticed that the AP is being more transparent about the relationship between their "expert" sources and those who might have an interest in how a study is reported. Such an example does not appear in the article I linked above, but I've noticed many "expert opinions" tagged with such phrases as "suggests so-and-so, who was not involved in the study" or "commented so-and-so, who had not yet read the report in its entirety."
Again, this seems like a promising and appropriate move toward more transparency. Good thing, that.
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