Today will always be one of the saddest days to be a New Yorker. For me, I feel additional sadness over being part of the media industry.
I often hear people criticize the media; they talk about it disdainfully --"the media"--, as though it shares one voice, one relentless bright beaming on-air promotion.
Usually I take issue with this oversimplification, but concede that today's state of journalism is riddled with problems. Namely, my explanation (not a defense, but a context) is that muckraking heroes rarely are rewarded in a corporate-owned media conglomerate world; and, that the news editors and programming directors themselves have to compete for human attention (in a media-saturated culture) with much less profound, more escapist, visual entertainment. To do so, it uses the usual enticements: sex, scandal and celebrity.
There are some wonderful exceptions, of course. But they are few and far between, and grossly under funded.
Today, I find it hard to counterpoint the critics' disdain. Today, I observe with embarrassment how the media has covered the fifth anniversary of 9/11.
Here's the essence of my indignity: it's been five years, and from all signs of it, there's little that our industry is able to report on in a way that's altogether distinct from the coverage of Snakes On A Plane.
Let's review. The fury over Ray Nagin's casual mention of "a hole in the ground" was a non-story mistaken for meaning on newscasts and talk shows. The coverage of hot tempers and misdirected rage over the building of the memorial has been foregrounded in recent weeks. Katie Couric and others followed the truly tragic story of the mysterious illness and deaths experienced by the first responders. But even here, the stories I read and watched were covered not from a scientific, investigative standpoint, nor even a more progressive call-to-action, empowering voting citizens to demand they receive help. Instead, the stories are highly packaged personal attacks and political finger pointing.
The issue of who is to blame aside, is this the real centerpiece of the story, on this day? Or have we, as an industry, conflated the weighty societal mission to muckrake with the corporate demands of using sensationalism to draw viewers?
Five years ago, my friend lost her dad in the South Tower. My memory of the months that followed is colored by the emotional torment I watched her endure, living in a 24/7 news world. I remember listening to her remorseful husband tell of how they couldn't go out, and couldn't stay at home. Media of 9/11 was omnipresent. One day, when yet another "Search for Osama" jingle came on, she spontaneously threw her shoes at their TV. Her personal grief became inseparable from the media circus, just more grist for the mill.
As a contrast, in the days that immediately followed 9/11 New Yorkers experienced a brief sense of what older generations reminisce about, integrity and community. The media had a "genuine moment" --albeit brief-- of taking stock and stepping back. It brought to life a different time when journalism included cultural heroes like Edward R. Murrow, so vividly captured in last year's Good Night and Good Luck.
The media had a moment, and so did the city.
High-energy New Yorkers who won't wait 10 minutes for coffee at Starbucks stood in line for days to donate blood. Handmade billboards littered the streets, hung by loved ones so bereft that the only action they could think to take was to post badly photocopied "MISSING" signs, the type of desperate image one usually associates with small children in search of lost pets.
Where are those sign-hangers today --emotionally, intellectually and psychologically? Why and how have some been able to put their lives back together? What is the state of the anti-discriminatory efforts that sprung up in response to hate crimes against everyday Muslim citizens? How are the fire fighters and utility worker and police officers (those who are not sick) moving on, after spending months in a traumatized state? Why were they so willing to sacrifice their own mental health for the rest of the city by doing the unthinkable work of cleaning up the grizzled remains laid at their feet? What can we, as grateful citizens, do to honor and help them? Is there no story or gesture that could be received as genuine?
Every day, I feel fortunate to be part of such a vibrant, stimulating, self-reflective and challenging industry. Today, I feel nothing but shame.
