The Like-ification of journalism

Bert Archer has a point here as he decries the outrage over Rolling Stone magazine's Dzokhar Tsarnaev cover, which, in an earlier era, might have been lauded as audacious, not criticized as offensive.

But I think the problem is more specific than a general decline in media literacy. People's expectations of how a story should make them feel--of their range of possible reactions--has narrowed dramatically.

I blame Facebook and its Like button.

Social media is a great way to pass stories around--and a great way for publishers to build audience. But the main circulatory system is Facebook's Like. People tend to Like things they agree with, that they think are interesting, attractive or aspirational. But a well-written story about villain or social evil--or especially stories that are morally ambiguous, that leave the reader uncertain about who is right and who is wrong and how they feel about it--doesn't fit into the structure of Like. People don't know what to do with their reaction.

If a reader appreciates, say, the writing but not the subject of a profile, if they savour the way the issues are explored, but not the conclusions offered by the writer, if they admire the subject but not the tone in which the subject was covered, will their Facebook friends understand the nuance? Probably not. So they don't Like. The story stands outside acceptable conversation circles.

Smart web publications know this. A great social media story has a single clear idea that generates a purely positive (or sometimes purely negative) reaction: Isn't this great! Or, with the addition of a comment, Isn't this awful? (You can Like the petition link.)

There are times when I think context (say, do nearby residents have problems with the otherwise admirable project? Will the prototype super-project ever be manufactured or be affordable?) is deliberately suppressed by some online publishers in order to fast-track the stories into celebratory social media. Ambivalence is the enemy.

That's how a story gets read nowadays--it get Liked.

But publish a cover featuring a handsome, "ordinary looking" young man who is an alleged bomber--a cover which doesn't use graphics or text to guide judgement--is to ask readers to react in a way that Facebook does not allow.... Isn't this great! No. Isn't this awful! .... Maybe?

To use a home improvement metaphor: The Dzokhar Tsarnaev cover story was a Philips screw, not a nail. But Facebook gives users only a hammer.

Of course, they get frustrated.

In Understanding Media, Marshall McLuhan wrote about how technologies not only extend our capacity, they also amputate part of us. Automobiles allow us to travel long distances effortlessly, at a cost of restricting our bodily movements during the trip. Social media allows us to massively increase our ability to get a message out into the world, but it is amputating our range of possible emotional reactions.

Three unspeakable observations

I think Pope Francis, who seems genuinely humble, is doing an impressive job at reframing the image of the Roman Catholic church. 

I think the Harper government, specifically Foreign Affairs Minister John Baird, is doing a decent job on international human rights (let's go after Russia now, shall we? Perhaps Canada can host Pride House at the Sochi Olympics).

Closer to home, my garbage collection has been better (less mess on the street after pick up) since Rob Ford privatized it (I feel bad for the lost union jobs, but I'm speaking purely as a consumer).

Do these achievements affect my global view of these leaders? Not so much. Don't get me started on the Roman Catholic church's larger problems with sex, gender and social justice, the Harper government's job on international trade (or domestically--whoa!) or Rob Ford's vision, honesty, competence or mental health. But sometimes you have to give credit where credit is due, even if it doesn't change your vote.

When our shopping moves online, what takes the place of our favourite brick-and-mortar stores?

 Following on my griping about the Shoppersization of Canadian downtowns, this Economist article reminded me of the broader trends that have helped boost Shoppers’ ubiquity. We don’t really go downtown to buy things anymore.  

It’s not just that we’re buying more stuff online. It’s that many of those things that are best suited for online shopping—music, collectibles, books and periodicals—have also provided the best “third spaces” where enthusiasts can loiter and bump into other like-minded people—the reasons why people have loved shopping downtown. Bookstores, music stores, collectible boutiques and magazine stands are places where browsing without purpose can be a form of identity expression. Their disappearance (into the digital economy) is changing the character of our commercial streets, especially as more mission-driven shopping (hardware, household goods—stuff that can't be “dematerialized”) moves online and to big box outlets beyond our downtowns.

But wait—our downtown streets seem to be as lively as ever before. I think that’s because the rise of restaurant culture and burgeoning neighbourhood bar scenes have filled in the gap.

Storefronts where retailers used to sell "things" are now occupied by businesses offering experiences. The customers who produce “the scene” are as much the product as the food or beverages. Deprived of being able to loiter in the Heavy Metal section of a local music shop, we find a restaurant or bar that, through other means, puts us in close proximity with our demographic. We eat or drink together, rather than shop together.

Perhaps we’re looking at a world where there is little downtown retail other than convenience and food shopping. Thus the rise of Shoppers as a place to buy things you won’t travel any distance for (toilet paper, shampoo) or can’t wait to be delivered (drugs, a soft drink on a hot day).

What will keep our downtowns fun is discovering the next hot food trend, not hanging around in Sam the Record Man all day. It's a tastier pastime  but, compared to the browsing the CD bins, a pricier one.

Prefab leak

Exhibiting symptoms of Internet-distraction-itis, this week I went from watching the Stars video “Hold on When You Get Love and Let Go When You Give it” to co-lead singer Torquil Campbell’s voluminous Twitter feed. When I read Campbell's tweet, “All thats left online of the prefab album which recently surfaced and vanished. I've heard it though....,” I went on a frenzied mission to see if I could dig up the alleged album, employing nefarious means if I had to.

I found it. It’s been dubbed The Devil Came A-Callin’ which is also the name of one of the tracks. For Prefab Sprout fans, it’s manna from heaven. Devotees ascribe band leader Paddy McAloon with legendary song-writing powers, though his output has been minuscule since the early 1990s. So the fact that the leaked album is also very good—and very satisfying for fans—is enough to make me delirious.

It’s hard to tell when the 10 songs were written and recorded. The band's last release, Let’s Change the World with Music, came out in 2009 but was comprised of demos recorded in 1993. That album had a grand self-important sound that came across as bit stilted and surprisingly sentimental for a band that built its reputation on being anti-romantic (One of their best known songs, “Cars and Girls” from 1988, was an attack on Bruce Springsteen’s supposedly limited view of matters of the heart). It didn't have much humour.

This new mystery album channels the looser, raw quirkiness of the early albums, though the song craft is some of Paddy McAloon’s best. There are no breathy vocals from Wendy Smith, so we have to assume that the material is, at the very least, more recent than 2000, when Smith reportedly left the band.

Is it real? Of course it is. There’s the exuberant glee of “The Best Jewel Thief in the World,” the soulful “Mysterious” and the heartbreaking “Grief Built the Taj Mahal,” where McAloon chases Gershwin as doggedly as he ever has.

No word on if and when the album will be released—no word acknowledging the thing at all—but some of us will certainly will be raking the sky, “listening for smudged echoes of the moment of creation” until it appears.

Amazing Race Canada: Are we by nature hammier than Americans or do our TV shows just make us look that way?

You could complain that a trip across Canada is not even close to a trip around the world—no culture shock, no money-changing confusion, no unfamiliar signage and, for the most part, no language barriers (we'll see what happens if the race goes to rural Quebec). It should be easy sailing for the teams on Amazing Race Canada.

But what struck me most about the show’s debut was how the transition from US to Canada revealed the format’s cracks and crevices. And not just in the slightly less dynamic camera work and the slightly slower editing.

Firstly, there’s the over-the-top product placement. Air Canada, Interac and Chevrolet commercials interrupted scenes where Air Canada, Chevrolet and Interac were the main drivers of the action--we got a better look at their debit cards than the Blue Bear. Who says Canadians are more reluctant to sell their souls than our American neighbours?

Then then was the contestant selection: A Canadian Forces sniper who lost both his legs below the knee, a dad with Parkinson’s, twin sisters, gay cowboys, actress/model sisters, former PSA stars—each team seems to have been chosen for a larger-than-life signature attribute, a marker that sets them aside from an average Canadian, perhaps in the hopes of making the teams memorable in the muddle of bland niceness that was exhibited in the debut. CTV takes Amazing Race’s approach to diversity and turns it up to 11.

If the handy labels don’t work in differentiating the teams, then excessive coaching might. Many of the teams seem louder and cockier than I bet they are in real life. The one thing about the US Amazing Race is that the teams tend to be amazingly unguarded—they bicker and sabotage like no one is watching. Perhaps it’s the way contestants are selected, perhaps the exotic locations are suitable disorienting, perhaps it's pure American guilelessness. The way the American contestants talk seems exactly the way they might talk to their friends and co-workers.

The Canadians, by contrast, seemed almost theatrical. The expressions on their faces when they were being told about the prizes seem to have been drawn from some high school musical they once starred in. One gay cowboy clutched his pearls. The "dudes" high-fived in a staged manner. Many of the teams are behaving as if they’re doing impressions of reality show contestants, not participating in a reality show themselves. Oh, Canadian self-awareness. Our blessing and our curse.

Who will win?

Obviously the dating BC hippies. Not because of their paddling skills or eco-awareness. But rather: “We wear the same clothes all the time,” says hippie Darren.

The hippies seem more concerned about winning than making a good impression. How un-Canadian of them.

Why the Loblaw takeover of Shoppers won't make downtown life any better--and will probably make it duller

The hegemony of Shoppers Drug Mart in downtown life took a sharp left turn this week with the announcement that Loblaw intends to buy the pharmacy chain for $12.4 million. 

While optimists are hoping for savings though cost-cutting and perhaps loyalty reward synergies between the PC Plus and Optimum programs, the merger will likely speed up the Shoppersization of urban life—big generic chain stores gobbling up prime commercial space, squeezing out the variety and whimsy that makes city life great.

Throughout Toronto’s condo boom, it’s been clear that Shoppers Drug Mart is one of the top choices for anchor tenants in new buildings. (Winners or Marshalls might also do in a pinch.) Of course, why not? A pharmacy is a safer, quieter and less risky choice for storefront space than, say, a nightclub, independent café or niche boutique. But safe choices in retail tenants makes for bland and banal streetscapes. A 25-minute streetcar ride down Queen West from Roncesvalles to University—Canada’s most vibrant shopping street—showcases no fewer than four Shoppers Drug Marts.

Grocery stores aren’t particularly exciting either, but they’re usually in oddball parking-lotted places or, in the case of the two new flagship Loblaw—Maple Leaf Gardens and Queen West at Portland—imaginatively tucked away into larger developments. Target—again, not a retailer known for its beautiful properties but let’s do our best to muster some choices here—has so far only opened stores on the fringes of the city. The chain remains virtually invisible to downtowners. You can complain that Walmart hurts small independent shops, but you can’t complain the stores are eyesores. So far, the retail giant’s only central location is in a mall, though plans to open a new location near Kensington Market are enough to send a chill up the spine of any flaneur.

Shoppers Drug Marts are much more in your face. Small enough to eat up the best most high-traffic locations, big enough to squeeze out three or four small boutiques once they set their sights on a property. Shoppers drug Marts can make even the most unique neighbourhood feel like nowhere at all.

Surprisingly, Pharma Plus and Guardian drugs have done little to take advantage of all the new retail space that’s come available in central Toronto; the expansion of the Pharma Plus at Church and Wellesley seems almost uniquely futile. Which means that the city is not merely awash in new brightly lit pharmacies, but awash in a single pharmacy brand.

A Loblaw/Shoppers merger can only increase the homogenization of our urban landscape. Unless other major retail chains push into downtown—or unless landlords start making it easier for independent stores to get leases—our corridors will be awash in red and white façades, retail spaces that offer a little of everything except personality.

Bad habits are not malice (or: Why I’m pretty sure Pride Toronto didn’t sabotage the world’s biggest Trans March)

I found this piece on Vice.com about Toronto’s Trans March, which resulted in this response from Toronto Pride, to contain much more than its fair share of conspiracy theory. The discussion I've heard around it has been interesting, but many of the allegations don't quite ring true.

Historically, activists will argue, Pride Toronto’s enthusiasm for increased trans visibility at the week-long festival has been less than stellar. I accept that. But there’s a big difference between institutional lethargy and the kind of malice Nicki Ward ascribes to Pride Toronto. Misdirection and underhandedness? Sabotage? Let’s not get hysterical here.

(Background note: I used to work with Nicki at (now defunct) fab magazine. I worked in editorial, she in advertising. I found her to be a friendly and supportive colleague, so I have no axe to grind and no horse in this race.)

As someone who mostly experiences the front end—not the planning itself, though I do hear some of the scuttlebutt—of Pride trans programming, I can say that it’s gotten dramatically better year over year and has drawn a much wider audience and a much higher level of public engagement. This year’s efforts made a genuinely impressive impact—I agree with Nicki that it was a watershed year. Did I see all the messiness of how it came together? No. But there’s a point when grievances and missteps need to be left behind in order to celebrate the good will that’s been building.

As a layperson, I saw the Trans March given equal billing to the Dyke March, the Pride Parade and the Street Festival on the cover of the Official Pride Guide, on the map and within the guide itself. Considering the parade's starring role (whether you like it or not), that's not the action of an organization that wants to downplay trans programming. The parade’s international grand marshal—which seems to have become an even higher honour than regular ole’ grand marshal—was Marcela Romero, director of the Argentine Association of Transvestites, Transsexuals and Transgender People. Trans artists made up a notable part of the mix at three of the four Pride stages I visited (the Central Stage remains the almost exclusive domain of gay men who want to dance with their shirts off and the straight couples who love them).

As a spectator, Friday night’s Trans March blew me away with its size, energy and inclusiveness. It must have taken 15 to 20 minutes to pass; this year’s Dyke March took less than 40 minutes to pass. Based on pure population statistics, LGB will pretty much always outnumber T, so that’s an impressive comparison. The large number of trans allies in the march helped give it the heft it deserved. If such a march is about building bridges and showing community-wide unity against oppression—mission accomplished.

Would a corporate sponsor—which comes with built-in media attention and cash—have made the Trans March better? I’ll bet money nobody wants to go there.

It was certainly disappointing that the march got only one lane of traffic. It seemed to require a higher number of police officers (presumably because of the obviously increased safety risk) than otherwise necessary. But thinking back to the small group—maybe a couple of hundred people?—that scurried down a pedestrian-filled Church Street three years ago, the whole thing was inspiring. I’m sure the size of the march also surprised the city, which will have to rethink such one-lane closures.

I’ve emphasized my outsiderness to the Trans Pride issue for a reason. In her piece, Nicki’s core complaint is about visibility and media coverage. She blames Pride Toronto for nobody hearing about this watershed Trans March. I’m not sure the premise is true.

But even if it is, as any journalist who’s covered Pride knows, Pride Toronto organizers basically just stick a media pass in your hand and let you get on with your work of deciding for yourself what you want to cover. There was no “gushing” about the march because, during the Pride weekend, organizers don’t usually gush about anything. They answer questions lobbed at them by reporters in between running around, putting out fires. It’s in the lead-up to next year’s festival that you’ll hear Pride Toronto gushing (hopefully about how great the trans programming was this year). That's the way the news cycle works.

So if the question is: Why wasn’t there the media coverage of the Trans March that Nicki wanted? Then the answer is: Ask the media.

Mainstream Pride coverage has become hackneyed and predictable. New elements—in the case of the Trans March, newly prominent elements—don’t fit into the template. Since the 1990s, it’s been about hot guys on floats, colourful drag queens, excited tourists, Toronto’s welcoming attitudes and the revenue generated for the city. Plus a few personality profiles. Blinded by the sexy skin and riotous colour, it can take mainstream media editors years to register a change in the body politic.

Maybe this successful Trans March will make the mainstream media pay more attention next year. More likely it would take a perfect storm (like the 2003 Ontario Superior Court decision on same-sex marriage, which cranked up coverage of Pride that year) to grab headlines and draw major mainstream attention. Changing policies and procedures, tough as it is, is easier than changing long-ingrained attitudes.

It’s true that Pride Toronto itself can be a bit too enamoured of its own template. There are Pride DJ lineups—the simplest possible thing to shuffle—that haven’t changed in years. The template has carried Pride through tumultuous times, but the tension between predictability and reinvention is never as taut as it should be. It’s easy to imagine activists presenting Pride Toronto with new ideas and getting “Where are we going to put that?” as the first reaction. (Actually, that’s a scenario that’s easy to imagine at any small not-for-profit community-based organization.)

But it would be unfair to interpret excessive pragmatism as something meant to thwart trans activists. Sometimes the weight of habit is more difficult to fight against than malice. Sometimes a misprint is just a misprint.

What’s amazing is that, despite it all, Toronto pulled off what seems to have been the world’s biggest trans march. I’m betting that record will be broken soon—hopefully during Toronto’s own WorldPride in 2014.