By Jim Killam
I remember reading a Sports Illustrated article in the early 1980s.
The writer paraphrased the chant of a raucous Red Sox crowd: "Steinbrenner
creates a partial vacuum with his mouth! Steinbrenner creates a partial
vacuum with his mouth!"
It never caught on. This morning, my Google search for this phrase came
up empty, while "Steinbrenner sucks" yielded 2,980 results.
That bit of editorial restraint seems quaint today, when "sucks"
has lost its sexual connotation and become as commonplace in print as "stinks."
In the past decade, editors have been barraged with tougher questions -
for instance, how to talk about what Bill and Monica were doing. Before
we even had time to decide what our standards should be, the details were
everywhere. I'm not sure journalism has ever caught up.
Thanks to the First Amendment, print and online media aren't subject
to FCC standards. We set our own. We'd be lying, though, if we said we
weren't paying close attention to what's going on in the broadcast industry.
Television viewers appear to be safe, at least for now, from seeing any
more disco-bondage nipple medallions. But decency standards, whether self-imposed
or government-dictated, aim at a forever-moving target.
When no one's entirely sure at any given moment what those standards
are, audiences never know what to expect. Case in point: I'm watching a
Cubs game with my kids on a Sunday afternoon. Every half-inning, we are
subjected to a commercial for "male enhancement" pills and are
warned of the dangers of a four-hour, um, enhancement.
Everyone stares straight ahead, hoping to avoid eye contact.
Finally, I decide it's my duty as a dad to break the ice.
"Hoo boy, that lawn sure needs mowing."
Yet, at the same time advertisers teach kids about male enhancement,
TV and radio honchos live in fear that certain expletives will be uttered
on their stations and incur the wrath and fines of the FCC. Even hearing
the surname of the Cardinals' first baseman makes them twitch nervously.
Broadcast media gets its decency standards designed by bureaucrats and
vote-hungry politicians. Those standards shift as often as the political
winds. Newspapers have the opportunity to do it right: to set standards
based on values, not votes. In doing so, we will re-emphasize our role
as gatekeepers of quality in American media.
Who decides for whom?
Not that it's easy to decide what those values are. College journalists,
as you might imagine, like to test the boundaries. One of my student columnists
tries whenever he can to inject the term "moon whores" into his
prose. And HBO's "Sex in the City" has spawned a generation of
copycat columnists, each self-appointed sexpert believing the world is
breathlessly awaiting his or her advice.
With each new graduating class, a slightly different set of standards
enters the newspaper world - a few as journalists, far more as readers.
Editors are left to decide whose standards prevail. One reader might be
offended by "sucks," another wouldn't flinch at a column explicitly
describing oral sex
or an explanation of what the heck "moon whores" are.
If editors take a zero-tolerance approach, they're afraid of being labeled
out-of-touch prudes. If they're overly permissive, their phones never stop
ringing.
The newsroom conversation goes something like this:
"We can't print that. The old ladies at the nursing home will read
it tomorrow morning and spit out their oatmeal."
Or, "We can't print that. We're a family newspaper."
Those are valid approaches, so long as the staff doesn't interpret the
unspoken subtext as: "I'm fine with it, but the morality police will
see it and complain and I don't have time to handle the phone calls."
Old ladies and little kids make convenient scapegoats. But a newspaper
is supposed to stand not only for what its readers want or don't want,
but also for its own values. I think most newspapers would list community
and decency among those values.
Better for editors to set this tone: Sometimes we will publish unpleasant
and offensive news if it's important enough, but never with undue sensationalism
or vulgarity. And if we're not certain about whether something is too offensive,
we'll err on the safe side and not use it.
We live in an increasingly explicit culture. I once interviewed a former
pornography addict who said we are sexually assaulted every day by the
images and words our culture throws in front of us. Would it be so bad
for newspapers to swim against that tide? To say with conviction that we
will establish clear standards and then uphold them, because it's the right
thing to do? And to say that, even though some of those standards might
have to be revised now and then, we will not simply let them erode without
careful thought?
The dirty-words list
At the Northern Star last year, enough questions arose about what language
is appropriate and what isn't that we decided to come up with a list of
red-flag words and phrases. The list would make George Carlin blush. I
won't print it here, but it is printed in our staff manual. If you want
to see the list, e-mail me and I'll
send it to you (turn off any filtering programs). We separate it into two
categories:
Usually a bad idea: Allowable in some instances, such as direct
quotes, but don't use gratuitously. Generally, these should be avoided
by columnists, cartoonists and in advertisements. Before this year, just
about all of these words - including a couple of words from Carlin's old
"Seven Words" routine - could be heard regularly on radio and
network television.
Never allowable: Self explanatory. This list includes not only
traditional profanity, but also racial, ethnic, religious or sexual slurs.
Not knowing what a term means is not an excuse. If editors decide the words
are necessary to the story, they use dashes after the first letter of the
word.
Obviously, no policy can cover every objectionable word or phrase. New
hybrids crop up all the time, and just because something does not appear
on the list does not necessarily mean it should run without question. I
also don't doubt that an editor or two along the way will decide to run
something from the "never allowable" list. So along with the
list, we encourage our student journalists to ask themselves these questions:
- Is the language necessary to communicate the message? Or will it divert
attention from the primary focus?
- Is the author using certain words just for shock value without journalistic
justification?
- Is there less-offensive language that would communicate the same idea?
Sharon Boehlefeld, features editor at The Journal-Standard in Freeport,
says her paper's policy boils down to this: "Would you want your 5-year-old
using the word in a conversation with your mother?"
Is that quaint? Or is that responsible journalism? It's a conversation
every newspaper ought to have with its readers.
Jim Killam is adviser for the Northern Star, the daily student newspaper
at Northern Illinois University. Contact him at jkillam@niu.edu