SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
David Carr Was Our Guide Through a 'Dead-Bang Ugly' Media Moment
We could not afford to lose David Carr.
And yet, we have.
After an particularly unsettling week for the jumble of journalism, entertainment, folly and possibility that we now call "media," we are now without the one ink-stained--or is it now "digit-damaged"--wretch who seemed to be capable of making sense of it all.
Feb 13, 2015
We could not afford to lose David Carr.
And yet, we have.
After an particularly unsettling week for the jumble of journalism, entertainment, folly and possibility that we now call "media," we are now without the one ink-stained--or is it now "digit-damaged"--wretch who seemed to be capable of making sense of it all.
The New York Times columnist on all things media, who died Thursday night at the absurdly young age of 58, waded into the greatest debates of our time with a warmth, humor and humility that belied his amazing ability to get to the heart of the matter--as he did in his final interview, just hours before his death, with Glenn Greenwald, Laura Poitras and Edward Snowden.
What made Carr the necessary guide through an ever-expanding maze of conflicts and contradictions was not that he always knew the way. In an age of stupid certainty, and the cruel choices that extend from it, he reminded us to cling to our humanity as we explored the unknown together.
Jaron Lanier, the great examiner of our still-forming digital age, titled his book about these times: You Are Not a Gadget. David Carr, who sought to examine the whole of our media moment, understood the premise that we needed to master our new technologies--as opposed to being mastered by them. But he extended the notion to suggest a second premise: You Are Not a Troll.
Carr was as sharp-witted as they came. And he had an eye that recognized every fumble by media moguls, elite anchormen, neo-Luddites and digital utopians. Yet, instead of calling them out for the sake of calling them out, he sought to understand and, ultimately, to explain the economic and technological and human demands that have thrown journalism and media into a new paradigm that is not evolving but, rather, coming at us at speeds now measured in gigabits.
As one who had stumbled himself, and chronicled his fall and rise in a harrowing book on his own drug addiction, he was not so interested in passing judgment. He was interested in figuring it all out. But, even more than that, he was interested in reminding us that we are human beings and citizens--not gadgets and consumers--who must figure at least a few things out before we become so atomized and antagonistic that we will all stop making sense.
When we discussed these issues, Carr and I could come down on different sides. He was more optimistic than I about the prospect that media corporations and plucky entrepreneurs will sort out the matter of how to pay for a journalism that is not just entertaining but that is sufficient to the demands of democracy. And he was more patient with our unsettled moment. Robert McChesney and I appeared with him a few years back (along with Pamela Newkirk and Laura Flanders at a lovely Nation event at the New York Society for Ethical Culture) to discuss the decline of speak-truth-to-power reporting. Carr was well aware of our sense of urgency--and of our advocacy for alternatives to broken corporate-ownership models. He acknowledged the prospect of a "dead-bang ugly" future for journalism. But he argued, "You don't flip the switch on the future and walk into a bright future. You guys in your book say we can't afford a ten- or twenty-year lapse in accountability journalism. Well there is going to be a sort, I think, a period of time when there's going to be some frictional changes."
Carr was not comfortable with the decline of watchdog journalism and the rise of relentless spin. He was searching, as hard as anyone in these times, for the wise and decent and honorable alternatives to that "dead-bang ugly" future. But he knew that someone had to chart those frictional changes, and that in trying to make sense of them we might yet renew a journalism that is more inclined to comfort the afflicted than to afflict the comfortable.
It was a radical humanity that allowed Carr to keep untying the Gordian knot of a new-media age. This was so very evident this week, as he urged us to look beyond the personalities and the politics of the Brian Williams interlude to recognize the structural realities that have made anchormen into pop stars.
"We want our anchors to be both good at reading the news and also pretending to be in the middle of it," he wrote. "That's why, when the forces of man or Mother Nature whip up chaos, both broadcast and cable news outlets are compelled to ship the whole heaving apparatus to far-flung parts of the globe, with an anchor as the flag bearer. We want our anchors to be everywhere, to be impossibly famous, globe-trotting, hilarious, down-to-earth, and above all, trustworthy. It's a job description that no one can match."
Much of what he wrote there could apply to the task of sorting out the media equation. Yet, steadily, thoughtfully, amazingly, wonderfully, David Carr matched the job description.
An Urgent Message From Our Co-Founder
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
© 2023 The Nation
John Nichols
John Nichols is Washington correspondent for The Nation and associate editor of The Capital Times in Madison, Wisconsin. His books co-authored with Robert W. McChesney are: "Dollarocracy: How the Money and Media Election Complex is Destroying America" (2014), "The Death and Life of American Journalism: The Media Revolution that Will Begin the World Again" (2011), and "Tragedy & Farce: How the American Media Sell Wars, Spin Elections, and Destroy Democracy" (2006). Nichols' other books include: "The "S" Word: A Short History of an American Tradition...Socialism" (2015), "Dick: The Man Who is President (2004) and "The Genius of Impeachment: The Founders' Cure for Royalism" (2006).
We could not afford to lose David Carr.
And yet, we have.
After an particularly unsettling week for the jumble of journalism, entertainment, folly and possibility that we now call "media," we are now without the one ink-stained--or is it now "digit-damaged"--wretch who seemed to be capable of making sense of it all.
The New York Times columnist on all things media, who died Thursday night at the absurdly young age of 58, waded into the greatest debates of our time with a warmth, humor and humility that belied his amazing ability to get to the heart of the matter--as he did in his final interview, just hours before his death, with Glenn Greenwald, Laura Poitras and Edward Snowden.
What made Carr the necessary guide through an ever-expanding maze of conflicts and contradictions was not that he always knew the way. In an age of stupid certainty, and the cruel choices that extend from it, he reminded us to cling to our humanity as we explored the unknown together.
Jaron Lanier, the great examiner of our still-forming digital age, titled his book about these times: You Are Not a Gadget. David Carr, who sought to examine the whole of our media moment, understood the premise that we needed to master our new technologies--as opposed to being mastered by them. But he extended the notion to suggest a second premise: You Are Not a Troll.
Carr was as sharp-witted as they came. And he had an eye that recognized every fumble by media moguls, elite anchormen, neo-Luddites and digital utopians. Yet, instead of calling them out for the sake of calling them out, he sought to understand and, ultimately, to explain the economic and technological and human demands that have thrown journalism and media into a new paradigm that is not evolving but, rather, coming at us at speeds now measured in gigabits.
As one who had stumbled himself, and chronicled his fall and rise in a harrowing book on his own drug addiction, he was not so interested in passing judgment. He was interested in figuring it all out. But, even more than that, he was interested in reminding us that we are human beings and citizens--not gadgets and consumers--who must figure at least a few things out before we become so atomized and antagonistic that we will all stop making sense.
When we discussed these issues, Carr and I could come down on different sides. He was more optimistic than I about the prospect that media corporations and plucky entrepreneurs will sort out the matter of how to pay for a journalism that is not just entertaining but that is sufficient to the demands of democracy. And he was more patient with our unsettled moment. Robert McChesney and I appeared with him a few years back (along with Pamela Newkirk and Laura Flanders at a lovely Nation event at the New York Society for Ethical Culture) to discuss the decline of speak-truth-to-power reporting. Carr was well aware of our sense of urgency--and of our advocacy for alternatives to broken corporate-ownership models. He acknowledged the prospect of a "dead-bang ugly" future for journalism. But he argued, "You don't flip the switch on the future and walk into a bright future. You guys in your book say we can't afford a ten- or twenty-year lapse in accountability journalism. Well there is going to be a sort, I think, a period of time when there's going to be some frictional changes."
Carr was not comfortable with the decline of watchdog journalism and the rise of relentless spin. He was searching, as hard as anyone in these times, for the wise and decent and honorable alternatives to that "dead-bang ugly" future. But he knew that someone had to chart those frictional changes, and that in trying to make sense of them we might yet renew a journalism that is more inclined to comfort the afflicted than to afflict the comfortable.
It was a radical humanity that allowed Carr to keep untying the Gordian knot of a new-media age. This was so very evident this week, as he urged us to look beyond the personalities and the politics of the Brian Williams interlude to recognize the structural realities that have made anchormen into pop stars.
"We want our anchors to be both good at reading the news and also pretending to be in the middle of it," he wrote. "That's why, when the forces of man or Mother Nature whip up chaos, both broadcast and cable news outlets are compelled to ship the whole heaving apparatus to far-flung parts of the globe, with an anchor as the flag bearer. We want our anchors to be everywhere, to be impossibly famous, globe-trotting, hilarious, down-to-earth, and above all, trustworthy. It's a job description that no one can match."
Much of what he wrote there could apply to the task of sorting out the media equation. Yet, steadily, thoughtfully, amazingly, wonderfully, David Carr matched the job description.
John Nichols
John Nichols is Washington correspondent for The Nation and associate editor of The Capital Times in Madison, Wisconsin. His books co-authored with Robert W. McChesney are: "Dollarocracy: How the Money and Media Election Complex is Destroying America" (2014), "The Death and Life of American Journalism: The Media Revolution that Will Begin the World Again" (2011), and "Tragedy & Farce: How the American Media Sell Wars, Spin Elections, and Destroy Democracy" (2006). Nichols' other books include: "The "S" Word: A Short History of an American Tradition...Socialism" (2015), "Dick: The Man Who is President (2004) and "The Genius of Impeachment: The Founders' Cure for Royalism" (2006).
We could not afford to lose David Carr.
And yet, we have.
After an particularly unsettling week for the jumble of journalism, entertainment, folly and possibility that we now call "media," we are now without the one ink-stained--or is it now "digit-damaged"--wretch who seemed to be capable of making sense of it all.
The New York Times columnist on all things media, who died Thursday night at the absurdly young age of 58, waded into the greatest debates of our time with a warmth, humor and humility that belied his amazing ability to get to the heart of the matter--as he did in his final interview, just hours before his death, with Glenn Greenwald, Laura Poitras and Edward Snowden.
What made Carr the necessary guide through an ever-expanding maze of conflicts and contradictions was not that he always knew the way. In an age of stupid certainty, and the cruel choices that extend from it, he reminded us to cling to our humanity as we explored the unknown together.
Jaron Lanier, the great examiner of our still-forming digital age, titled his book about these times: You Are Not a Gadget. David Carr, who sought to examine the whole of our media moment, understood the premise that we needed to master our new technologies--as opposed to being mastered by them. But he extended the notion to suggest a second premise: You Are Not a Troll.
Carr was as sharp-witted as they came. And he had an eye that recognized every fumble by media moguls, elite anchormen, neo-Luddites and digital utopians. Yet, instead of calling them out for the sake of calling them out, he sought to understand and, ultimately, to explain the economic and technological and human demands that have thrown journalism and media into a new paradigm that is not evolving but, rather, coming at us at speeds now measured in gigabits.
As one who had stumbled himself, and chronicled his fall and rise in a harrowing book on his own drug addiction, he was not so interested in passing judgment. He was interested in figuring it all out. But, even more than that, he was interested in reminding us that we are human beings and citizens--not gadgets and consumers--who must figure at least a few things out before we become so atomized and antagonistic that we will all stop making sense.
When we discussed these issues, Carr and I could come down on different sides. He was more optimistic than I about the prospect that media corporations and plucky entrepreneurs will sort out the matter of how to pay for a journalism that is not just entertaining but that is sufficient to the demands of democracy. And he was more patient with our unsettled moment. Robert McChesney and I appeared with him a few years back (along with Pamela Newkirk and Laura Flanders at a lovely Nation event at the New York Society for Ethical Culture) to discuss the decline of speak-truth-to-power reporting. Carr was well aware of our sense of urgency--and of our advocacy for alternatives to broken corporate-ownership models. He acknowledged the prospect of a "dead-bang ugly" future for journalism. But he argued, "You don't flip the switch on the future and walk into a bright future. You guys in your book say we can't afford a ten- or twenty-year lapse in accountability journalism. Well there is going to be a sort, I think, a period of time when there's going to be some frictional changes."
Carr was not comfortable with the decline of watchdog journalism and the rise of relentless spin. He was searching, as hard as anyone in these times, for the wise and decent and honorable alternatives to that "dead-bang ugly" future. But he knew that someone had to chart those frictional changes, and that in trying to make sense of them we might yet renew a journalism that is more inclined to comfort the afflicted than to afflict the comfortable.
It was a radical humanity that allowed Carr to keep untying the Gordian knot of a new-media age. This was so very evident this week, as he urged us to look beyond the personalities and the politics of the Brian Williams interlude to recognize the structural realities that have made anchormen into pop stars.
"We want our anchors to be both good at reading the news and also pretending to be in the middle of it," he wrote. "That's why, when the forces of man or Mother Nature whip up chaos, both broadcast and cable news outlets are compelled to ship the whole heaving apparatus to far-flung parts of the globe, with an anchor as the flag bearer. We want our anchors to be everywhere, to be impossibly famous, globe-trotting, hilarious, down-to-earth, and above all, trustworthy. It's a job description that no one can match."
Much of what he wrote there could apply to the task of sorting out the media equation. Yet, steadily, thoughtfully, amazingly, wonderfully, David Carr matched the job description.
We've had enough. The 1% own and operate the corporate media. They are doing everything they can to defend the status quo, squash dissent and protect the wealthy and the powerful. The Common Dreams media model is different. We cover the news that matters to the 99%. Our mission? To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. How? Nonprofit. Independent. Reader-supported. Free to read. Free to republish. Free to share. With no advertising. No paywalls. No selling of your data. Thousands of small donations fund our newsroom and allow us to continue publishing. Can you chip in? We can't do it without you. Thank you.