The Net connection at the hotel for the D conference kept flaking on me (it was a fine connection, it was just the dumb Wayport authentication process that was completely hosed — you’d think a Four Seasons Resort, with its overwhelming luxury in so many other ways, would stop trying to eke out that extra $10 for the stupid Net connection and just throw it in, like the water and towels and TV). So I’m going to do a retrospective post tomorrow…
Jobs: Podcasting via ITunes
Here at the “D” conference, Steve Jobs announced the impending addition of a podcast aggregation feature to the Itunes music store — to go live in “the next 60 days.” The idea is, you won’t need to use a separate application to make sure the podcast content you want will sync with your Ipod — you can do it all through your Itunes interface.
“Podcasting is like Wayne’s World for radio,” Jobs said, and the new ITunes functionality is “sort of like Tivo for your radio for your Ipod.”
Jobs promised that the ITunes podcasting platform would be open to all comers; there’d be a simple automated system to get your content included, he said. But it wasn’t clear from his demo — which featured material from professional outlets like public radio stations — just how grassroots-y the Apple model is going to be.
There was a moment of amusement when Jobs clicked on an Adam Curry podcast that began with Curry complaining, “I’ve had to restart the show 3 times, my Mac has been acting up like a motherfucker.” Jobs just smiled. You have to figure that he knew just what he was playing; it was funny nonetheless.
Some other notable bits from Jobs’ Q&A with Mossberg and Swisher:
He defended Apple’s suit against Web sites that had published confidential info about forthcoming Apple products, saying that the law was clear here, and the First Amendment ends where breaking the law (in revealing confidential trade secrets) begins.
Pressed to talk about whether Apple would pursue a video Ipod product, he talked about the hardware limits in delivering good video via small devices: “Headphones are a miraculous thing. There’s no such thing as headphones for video.”
The much rumored Ipod phone? “It’s a hard problem.” Swisher countered, “You’re a smart guy.” Mossberg asked why it wasn’t reasonable to assume that all portable-device functions — music, email, voice — would converge on the cellphone. Jobs’ cagy reply: “I thoroughly understand the question, and I’ll have to leave the answer to our actions inthe future.”
Finally, it seems there’s a betting pool inside Apple about how soon Yahoo will raise the prices on their (rock-bottom-priced) new music-rental service ($5 a month when you buy a year). Jobs’ bet? Five months.
D3 and all that
I have been on a strict diet when it comes to attending conferences this year — I must hunker down and write! I allowed myself one exception this season, so here I am at Walt Mossberg and Kara Swisher’s third “D” conference, the Wall Street Journal’s technology-and-media extravaganza.
Last year’s event kicked off with Bill Gates tantalizing us with the wonders that were to be Longhorn, and how the new version of Windows would transcend the whole notion of “search.” Google? We won’t need no stinking Google, Gates all but declared: “Longhorn’s about structured information. The world’s not just about text lookup… Longhorn brings the notion of an object-oriented database to the way information is stored…”
Well, in the intervening year those exciting features of Longhorn’s much-touted new file system seem to have been left on the cutting room floor, as Microsoft labors mightily to move this massive project forward so that it might conceivably see the light of day before 2006 winds down.
This year, then, while I’ll pay close attention to what Gates — and every other technology executive here (tonight’s event kicks off with Steve Jobs) — has to say, I’ll also remember that it’s much easier to talk about great technology than to make it work and get it into people’s hands.
Farce, take two
My colleague Tim Grieve is in Washington covering the Senate follies for Salon. His dispatch tonight is a must-read. If you need background, his FAQ-style introduction to the whole filibuster foofaraw is essential.
Force to farce
I’m keeping my head down to work on my book, most of the time, but Kerry Lauerman asked for contributions to a package about “Star Wars,” and, well, I couldn’t resist. You can read my thoughts on why I, as a passionate teenage science fiction fan in the 1970s, was never a fan of George Lucas’s epic, here.
On a related subject, I watched “Spaceballs” for the first time during my last vacation, in the company of my family, and while it was as, well, slight as I expected, there was something about the notion of “The Schwartz” (Mel Brooks’ answer to the Force) that really seemed to charm my five-year-old boys, who took up the concept as a rallying cry and did not let it go.
Poor David’s almanac
Poor David Brooks — the guy’s timing is simply awful. Here he is, offering a column — “Meet the Poor Republicans” — that tries to explain why a particular contingent of not-so-well-off voters has lately been voting for the GOP. His answer? Unlike the poor folks who vote for the Democrats, these poor people “agree with Horatio Alger”: they believe that they’ve got a reasonable shot at moving up the ladder, living the American dream, making a fortune and leaving that word “poor” behind. Poor Democrats, on the other hand, tend to be people who think that the cards are stacked against them.
Unfortunately for Brooks, his column ran on the very same day that the Times kicked off a mega-series on “Class in America” — the central premise of which is that there’s a lot less class mobility in America than people believe. (Lest you conservatives fear that this is simply a plot by that filthy liberal Times rag to fill our heads with lies, the Wall Street Journal ran a front-page story last week reporting pretty much exactly the same thing.)
This juxtaposition of material couldn’t possibly have been intended by the Times’ news editors to make Brooks look like a condescending idiot or a closet Democrat, but that’s the result. Because there’s no way to put these two articles together without concluding that those poor people out there who vote Republican because they think they have a chance to get ahead, those people whose praises Brooks are singing, are, sadly, chumps. They have been sold a bridge. They believe in something that, like creationism or Saddam Hussein’s WMD arsenal, is contra-factual. On the other hand, those poor Democrats, however unfashionably glum and not-with-the-morning-in-America program they may be, seem to have a clearer picture of the state of the union.
One could go further and begin to lay out how the policies of the Bush-era GOP, supported by Brooks’ “poor Republicans,” are only further locking in the sort of class immobility the Times (and Journal) articles note. But let’s not kick Brooks while his own paper has tripped him sprawling, face-down, on the political floor.
J.D. Lasica book party
Tonight, if you’re in the Bay Area, there’s a party in honor of J.D. Lasica’s new book Darknet: Hollywood’s War Against the Digital Generation and a general get-together for the whole “citizen’s media”/independent-journalists-who-use-blogs etc. thing. It’s at the Varnish Gallery Friday evening, 6-9 p.m. Address: 77 Natoma street between 1st and 2nd St. and Mission and Howard. I’ll be there — these days it’s useful for me to share the company of People Who Have Already Finished Books…
Tracking bugs with the Times
The response to my idea in January that newsrooms borrow a page from the open-source playbook and adopt bug-tracking systems wasn’t exactly thunderous (not that I had any reason to expect anything else!). But I was pleasantly surprised — while reading the New York Times’ recent internal report recommending a variety of smart moves the paper should take to combat the erosion of readers’ trust — to see that the flagship paper of American journalism is talking about taking a step in this direction. The Times committee proposes that the paper begin to use a database to track errors:
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Last year we published almost 3,200 corrections. We can do better. Our goal should be to eliminate error, beyond acknowledging it and correcting it. The proposed database would track the types and causes of errors that lead to corrections. The data would come from a mandatory form filled out by the individual(s) responsible for an error. It would include a draft of the proposed correction, with an explanation of how the mistake happened and how it could have been avoided. |
This is OK, as far as it goes, but notice that the responsibility for entering the error falls on the party least motivated to do so — the “individual responsible for an error.” The resulting system may help the Times notice patterns of errors that it can try to remedy. But it won’t fundamentally improve the feedback loop between the paper and the world it is trying to cover — unless and until the database goes public. Why not open it up and let readers file “bugs” against stories? As I wrote in a follow-up post in January, “I think this approach would pay off best for a newsroom that is having difficulty convincing readers that the publication is actually listening to them. If you showed the public that you were recording and responding to the issues they raised — whether you end up publishing a correction or simply saying, ‘We don’t think that needs correcting, and here’s why’ — I think you’d start to bank some confidence and trust pretty quickly.”
The difference between a private database and a public bug-tracker is the difference between a management tool and an open channel of communication. The former isn’t a bad thing, but the latter is what you want if you really intend to restore public trust.
The report seems overly worried that tying names of journalists to numbers of errors would be unfair to individuals (“Only masthead editors, department heads and the editor in charge of overseeing the error-tracking system should have access to names in the database”). Certainly, the paper’s managers are being enlightened to say that they’re not going to judge reporters based on “raw counts of an individual’s errors,” which “can be simplistic and misleading.” Well and good. But the idea that these numbers need to be kept private seems both overprotective and naive.
The readers who know a subject well enough to know that an error has been made in coverage of that subject also know very well exactly which reporter(s) were responsible for the goof. Bylines are public. Journalism is public. Errors are public. If a particular reporter ends up embarrassed because of an unduly large number of errors associated with his name, he should be. A well-designed public error-tracker for a newspaper could help make sure that those reporters who have real problems getting their facts straight either improve or are eventually retired or moved to less sensitive jobs. Meanwhile, if readers complain repeatedly about a particular reporter’s errors and the paper feels they’re not errors at all, then at least its response and defense of that reporter would be on the record.
The Internet ensures that criticism of journalists and complaints of their mistakes will be public and will name names. Newspapers can’t reverse that. But if they handle things right, they can provide an orderly and reliable record of complaints lodged against them, of actions taken to correct errors or to demonstrate that charges of error are simply mistaken. If they do so, they will help bolster public trust in their work. If they don’t do it on their own terms, the distributed intelligence of the Net will continue to do it on terms that editors will find less and less hospitable.
The parting on the left are now parting on the right
The heart of conservatism, as elucidated by its progenitor, Edmund Burke, is a healthy respect for the messy, inconsistency-laden reality of human institutions as they have actually evolved across generations. Such institutions are necessarily imperfect, but have value by the simple virtue of having withstood pressure over time. You discard such institutions only with great caution; what is destroyed overnight can take decades to rebuild. This is where we get the very term “conservative”; conservatives believe in the conservation of human institutions and values. Conversely, the word “radical” derives from the Latin for “roots,” because radicalism is all about digging things up at the roots and starting over.
Both impulses have their place in society. But our national politics have reached the strange tipping point at which the two labels have become reversed: they now hang from the necks of our politicians and parties like mixed-up nametags.
The Republican, “red state” agenda can be called “conservative” only by force of habit. Abroad, President Bush pursues a messianic vision, one part religious war and one part democratic crusade, neither pursued with any consistency but both leading to regime changes, bloodshed and the casual abandonment of carefully built institutions and alliances. At home, Bush, having enacted massive changes to the federal tax structure that are steadily bankrupting the government, seeks to scuttle Social Security, the most successful social program in American history.
The president is a radical. It is his Democratic opponents, fighting a rearguard action to protect the institutions of the liberal state that their predecessors built over the last century, who are now conservatives.
I’m thinking in this framework as I ponder the Senate’s “nuclear option” mess. (For a guide to the intricacies of this contorted political conflict, there’s no better starting point than Tim Grieve’s Q&A in today’s Salon.) What’s interesting about the Senate’s procedural civil war is how completely the Republicans, in their triumphant eternal Now, have taken their eye off the past and the future. The past tells us that every party in power sooner or later falls out of the majority. In the future, the Republicans will surely want and need the filibuster that they are so gung-ho to eliminate today.
The Senate leadership’s inability or unwillingness to imagine a future shoe-on-the-other-foot scenario has an analogue in the administration’s casual attitude toward the Geneva Accords and other safeguards against torture. The military has traditionally understood the vital importance of sticking to these agreements, even with despicable and immoral enemies, because it’s the only way you have any hope of insuring that your own people won’t be tortured when they end up in the other side’s prisons. But the Bush administration’s end-justifies-the-means thinking has left this tradition in tatters.
Having squeaked into the White House twice in a row, these guys, it seems, can’t picture a future in which they are no longer running the world. And their short-sightedness is not only beginning to wreck the government; it’s trashing their own conservative tradition. I can’t claim to understand why. Perhaps the millennarian streak of the religious right provides those under its sway with a sort of safety hatch: Like Jim Morrison said, the future’s uncertain and the end is always near. If the end times are nigh, then why worry about the Democrats regaining the majority in a de-filibustered Senate? But I think it’s less likely that the Republican leadership is counting on the apocalypse than that they’re just slaves to short-term thinking.
Bombs away
If a suicide bomber attacks and the media don’t cover it, are the victims still dead?
Today the New York Times’ rookie conservative columnist, John Tierney, offers a variation on the See No Evil argument about Iraq (itself a variation of the Blame the Messenger gambit). The real problem with Iraq, Tierney argues, isn’t that the nation is drifting into civil war and that two years after Saddam Hussein’s overthrow the U.S. still can’t provide any measure of personal safety for those Iraqis brave enough to volunteer to serve in the new government, or show any sign that it has begun to figure out how to reduce the level of violence in the country. The problem, says Tierney, is that the U.S. media is too darn determined to report on the Iraqi rebels’ attacks.
Tierney spins his case by donning the cape of a crusader for media quality: Sensationalist journalists are just too easily distracted by gory photo opportunities. There’s no news here, the columnist argues; seen one suicide bombing, seen ’em all. “How much shock value or mystery is there anymore to suicide bombings? How intrigued are people by murders when the motive, the weapon and the murderer’s fate are never in doubt?”
In this view, the bombings in Iraq are context-free acts of brutality set apart from any historical continuum. Tierney thinks the media should show “a little restraint” and “reconsider their own fondness for covering suicide bombings.” In his formulation, everything that’s happening in Iraq — all the complex interaction between Sunnis and Kurds and Shiites and American forces, all the ethnic and religious cross-currents, all the backdrop of oil politics and the post-9/11 war with al-Qaeda — gets reduced to the phrase “suicide bombings.” Don’t think that we’re dealing with the latest chapter in a war started by our own government; it’s just a strange rash of “suicide bombings.” Putting the bombers on TV only encourages them! But if we stop the cameras, maybe they will go away.
Tierney’s column is self-evidently ridiculous, but it’s worth noting that it also represents an odd twist in conservative rhetoric. Before the Iraq war, it was liberals who argued that there was no compelling reason to send an army into Iraq — that the equivalent of international police action was doing the job and would continue to do so. (Some liberals also argued for the “police action” approach against Al-Qaeda: Frame the 9/11 attackers as criminals, not as wartime enemies. But the president’s religio-apocalyptic “War on Terror” rhetoric became America’s marching orders instead.) Now that there really is a sad, bloody, endless war in Iraq, the conservatives’ line is shifting: They don’t want us to think of it as a war at all. It really is policing, now, even though we’ve still got a few divisions in the field and soldiers are dying every day. We should deal with it, Tierney says, the way Rudy Giuliani dealt with criminals. Cutting out the press worked in New York City; let’s try it in Baghdad!
The trouble is, while obviously the bombers in Iraq treat media coverage as a part of their strategy, every CNN camera could switch off and every American reporter could come home — you could have a complete blackout of U.S. coverage of every bombing — and the Iraqi rebels would continue to pursue their goals. The U.S. is only one part of a bigger game to them. The horrific bombing attacks in Iraq are not random acts of brutality; they are part of a calculated war plan aimed at undermining any chance of success for the Bush administration’s project in Iraq.
If you were an Iraqi contemplating whether to run for office or serve in the Iraqi police force, you might be reasonably afraid of being targeted by a fanatic with a bomb strapped to his chest. You might overcome your fear; you might choose the better part of valor. One thing I seriously doubt you’d consider was whether said fanatic’s bomb attack was going to get U.S. press coverage or not. Life might be a little easier for the Republicans in Washington if the American media paid less attention to Iraqi suicide bombers, but things wouldn’t get any better for Iraqis.
It’s true that the Bush administration has had some success in applying a See No Evil strategy to U.S. casualties in Iraq. Not allowing the American media to show pictures of American coffins returning home really has helped the administration keep the lid on domestic discontent with its policies. So we might expect White House officials to like the idea of extending the tactic more widely to the Iraq field of operations. What’s hard to fathom is why a journalist would propose anything of the sort.
