I really love when authors of critical or historical texts come out and say, “This is my argument.” Don't get me wrong, as a literature student, I enjoy discovering argument and the construction of argument in texts, but I still find Paul Starr’s clear-cut thesis to be a helpful guide in reading his book, The Creation of the Media: Political Origins of Modern Communications. He states, “It is the particular argument of the book that the United States has followed a distinctive developmental path in communications ever since the American Revolution” (2). I would add that he clearly champions the process of media development in America as opposed to the rest of the world. He notes that before the US became a world power, economically and politically, it was already the leader in communications as seen in the development of its postal service and newspaper publishing (2-3). To achieve this position as world leader in communications, Starr underscores American ideologies concerning law, government, and information vs. knowledge as catalysts for the literary revolution that contributed to the US rise as a world leader.
I have a hard time finding fault in Starr’s conclusions, as one who has been ingrained with American ideology. For instance, freedom of expression and access to information are veritable rights I claim as a citizen of the United States. Starr, though, references Francis Bacon to illustrate how these “natural” rights, which we often don’t question, were absolutely questionable in other countries who were grappling with the expansion of media and communication technology and how it would affect the character of society. His famous words “Knowledge is power,” according to Starr, could be “read not simply as an endorsement of knowledge but also as a warning about its perils” (8). Unlike the America that Starr paints for us, other countries like France and Britain, more cautiously restricted print culture through government intervention because they were concerned about the supposed perils of knowledge being disseminated at such a rapid pace to such a broad readership, especially if that knowledge threatened existing power structures or introduced unsound moral ideas.
Sometimes I wonder how much our identity as Americans blind us to how other countries and cultures may perceive the same history. Perhaps Americans focus on information and access as a positive contribution to its development as a world leader. However, did Britains think this democratic approach to knowledge as beneficial? Charles Dickens in his satire Martin Chuzzlewit, makes some tongue-in-cheek (arguably critical) comments toward the laziness and hypocrisy of unscrupulous publishers in America (even though later, in response to accusations that he was anti-American, he praised American liberality and generosity.) Still, his satire can remind us that regardless of access and information and perceived freedom of press, corruption can be just as prevalent in the masses as it is when powerful elites censor the press. It may just show up in different forms.
In a sense, I wonder, how much does more access to more information make a society a leader in communication? Are we measuring advances in communication by breadth or depth, quantity or value? Do certain values surrounding communication actually conflict? For instance, would you rather read fewer sources on American politics by experts or multiple sources by an individual who can sign his or her name to a dust jacket? Do I need to know what everyone thinks about Paris Hilton every time I check out at Target? Do facebook "soundbites" of Sarah Palin and Barack Obama influence my political decisions more than, let's say, political science scholars? I don’t know if I have an answer to these questions myself. I’m not sure if I need or desire as much access to information as I have. How does that make me a more knowledgeable citizen? I can actually see it having the reverse effect on many people who turn into disillusioned skeptics because there is too much information to sort and to process.
But then the question comes—who is chosen as the discriminator? Should that be left to individuals? The elite? A republic? Who teaches these people strategies for critically handling information? (I think this is one of the reasons I became an English teacher, but I still struggle with my own authority in this area.) It’s an interesting question of values. If we whole-heartedly adopt American cultural values, this book seems to be on track to show us how America chose the “right path.” I’m interested, though, in seeing, perhaps, the objections to lauding America as the superpower of communications. (I could be wrong in this assumption as I have only read the preface and the first chapter.)
Interestingly, the first hit I explored in the American Periodicals search for the key word "novel" was a British novel, Amelia, by Henry Fielding, apprehended by an American publisher in an article titled "An Account of a Novel Entitled, AMELIA, by Henry Fielding, To which are added some general remarks." (December 1786, New Jersey Magazine and Monthly Advertiser). I was expecting a concise summary, but the periodical entry basically retells the story for interested readers. I wondered, not having read Amelia, what types of liberties this author took with the retelling. It would be interesting to see any American bias in the appropriation of the work. This also made me think more about what I have been pondering in this blog--the information vs. knowledge dilemma. Because American readers had access to this novel, at least a retelling of this novel, were they getting the same "knowledge," be that literary, cultural, or rhetorical that they could have gotten from the original? Does this type of retelling add to the meaning of the novel? What if this was all someone read? Would they be able to have intelligent conversations about the novel? Is that all that matters? Makes me think a little of Sparknotes and other reading aids to acquire information. What are we missing out on, just because we get the information?
Ha! O.k. I'm doing my blogging simultaneously with my research, and I just found an article that is wrestling with these same questions. It's called "On the Literature, Wit, and Taste of the Other Nations." (The Columbian Magazine, Aug. 1788) The columnist's basic premise is that regardless of how a story is told with all its style and embellishment, what will ultimately affect a reader is "the truth" of what is told. It even makes a statement about a rational individual. "The majority of sensible people prefer plain truth, expressed in clear and comprehensive language." So, Sparknotes better than original? Well, I'll give this writer some credit. He does conclude by saying that there is a need to study polite literature so that a man might not be vulgar. Haha. I thought that was funny. Who determines, then, vulgarity?
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