The contrasting treatment of two recent news stories offers a timely example of how intensely perceptions of morality differ in the United States, and how tough it is for journalism to come to grips with the complicated moral issues and dilemmas lying just below the surface of many of our biggest stories.
It says something about this country when the execution of three convicted killers in one state on one night is the eighth item on AOL’s news briefs - well behind a Northeast snowstorm and labor unrest in South Korea - but Paula Jones is on the cover of Newsweek representing the world’s most famous attempted blow job.
A week ago last Wednesday night, three prisoners were put to death in Arkansas - only the second triple execution since the Supreme Court restored the death penalty in 1976. The three were given lethal injections, one after another, despite little-publicized protests from human rights groups. One man lay on a gurney with a needle in his arm for 45 minutes first, while the Supreme Court pondered, then sealed, his fate. Hardly anybody in America would recognize his name: Kirt Wainwright.
This story has everything - human drama, legal issues, controversy, philosophical questions - but Newsweek isn’t likely to put those convicted murderers on its cover any time soon. But Paula Jones’ name is already nearly as familiar as the president’s.
Compared to sexual harassment, the death penalty is a marginal issue in American politics at the moment, supported by a clear majority of citizens and political leaders, unmentioned in the presidential campaign except for arguments that executions should cover more types of crimes. Judging from media attention, sexual harassment is a far more serious moral issue than the taking of life by the state.
But is the death penalty really less important than sexual harassment? Right now, the media says yes. If three Army officers at West Point were accused of harassing three soldiers, wouldn’t the case generate much more journalistic attention than the Arkansas killings?
The difference in coverage of the two events last week demonstrated that most journalistic institutions are too structurally flawed and reactive to help sort through the moral questions we're all faced with as our society's changes outpace our understanding.
By the nature of their work, journalists are creatures of the moment, working in supercharged environments that give them little time to gain perspective, consider historical or social context, or do more than respond to the crisis or controversy of the day.
All those thousands of reporters - hardly any of them free to break away from the pack, to offer much clarity about the complicated problems we face. In a world of hues and shades, our media still work mostly with black and white.
The big story in America for years has been the transition from a culture that's run and controlled by white men to the most pluralistic society there is, in which power is increasingly shared by anybody who can amass enough numbers, yell loud enough, hire enough lawyers and spokespeople, elect enough legislators. Women and minorities increasingly have a place at the cultural table - seats in the House of Representatives, representatives on the Supreme Court just for starters. And that is changing everything.
This shift has hit like an earthquake, even though we see the ground shake more than we understand the forces moving it. Traditional ideas about race, law enforcement, work, gender, and sexuality have been shattered. Anita Hill, O. J., Rodney King, and Paula Jones are all manifestations of the earth cracking and current realities being suddenly swallowed whole when those plates move.
As an institution, the press tends to lurch from one quake to the next, as do the rest of us. We discover how enraged women are during the Anita Hill hearings. But before we can quite absorb or respond to that, we are stunned to learn that blacks in Los Angeles are even angrier.
Fifty years ago, Richard Jewell would have been slapped around a bit by the FBI after the Atlanta bombings and we would never have heard another word about it.
Today, he’s our latest and best-known national victim/hero, busy sorting through his potentially profitable legal remedies. At almost any other point in the nation’s history, it would be hard to imagine Paula Jones getting a sexual harassment case against the president of the United States anywhere near a court. Now, she represents a serious threat to his administration and is sought out by our most prestigious journalists.
In the eyes of some, this is justice long denied. For others, the world has turned upside down. In the media mirror, we see a culture of whining, outrage, and complaint that, however justified, is often tiresome and grating.
How we can honestly and rationally deal with these shifts as they happen - and why we can't turn to the media for help - is the subject of parts II and III of this series.
