After I read The New York Times’s article about female athletes’ bodies, I was genuinely confused about the purpose of the article. I am not at all interested in sports, but the article seemed nothing but mild – until I read the follow-up. As pointed out by a number of my peers, the second article seemed eager to uncover sexism/insensitivity where such things did not exist; the tennis article was merely chronicling the types of discussions that female athletes experience regarding their body types. In sports, discussions about physique are common to both male and female athletes; it seems almost implied that anyone in the field, whether man or woman, would be subject to scrutiny of body type. There was no sexism in the original article, and therefore there was no need for a follow-up.

In the second article, however, I noticed what I thought were a number of issues. As mentioned in the follow-up to the original profile of Diggs, the following phrase was offensive: “If you start to salivate when you hear the phrase ‘black men with jobs,’ then Diggs is your guy.” The offensiveness was (in my opinion) somewhat mitigated by the fact that the writer of the profile is a black man himself, but when reading journalistic stories, many consumers pay no heed to the name listed above the piece – and therefore, any sort of questionable language can potentially be viewed as inflammatory and even hateful. On top of that, the overall perpetuation of the notion of Diggs as a sex icon is potentially iffy – when such a label is assigned to a woman, the public is so quick to protest against sexism, and there is no reason why this outcry should only remain a one-way street.

Journalists should take care to be sensitive in every article that they write; though many instances of potentially-offensive humor can be funny to some, it is probably best to avoid such types of references in journalistic writing.

While listening to the interviews given by the Yangs, I was shocked by how similar the Yellow Rain story is to instances of public skepticism toward other genocides. In order to fully understand the emotional mindset of Kao Kalia Yang (because the way the story was framed, I was initially inclined to be skeptical myself), I tried to place myself into her shoes: I am Jewish, and many of my family members were killed during the Holocaust several decades before I was born. I have encountered Holocaust deniers, including several who claimed that Jews were not killed by Nazis but rather by other unspecified forces, making it seem as if several million people could spontaneously cease existing without explanation. To me, this claim seems absurd and offensive, and I do suspect that Holocaust deniers have some kind of agenda to push. By considering the reporters’ questioning from a Jew’s perspective, I can see why Yang was so emotionally affected by the way that the RadioLab reporters treated her uncle’s story; she felt as if the suffering of her people was being negated by what the journalists saw as a lack of specific evidence.

With that being said, a story can only be considered as legitimate as its evidence. However, in Yang’s defense, one of the articles mentioned that she had brought physical evidence with her to the interview, but RadioLab dismissed it as insufficient. This was one of their mistakes; they did not present all sides of the story, and thus were terribly insensitive to their subjects regarding an already-delicate topic. The lack of gentleness was what really ruined the interview; Yang did the journalists a favor by making herself available for a podcast interview, and the callousness of their regard was inhumane and incredibly ungrateful. In the journalism classes I’ve taken, emphasis has always been placed on treating interviewees with respect and kindness. None of those measures were taken here. Skepticism is undeniably integral to a journalist’s job, but there are ways to conduct interviews without causing emotional harm to the subjects. When questioning Yang, reporters could have been kinder with their phrasing instead of making it seem like Yang owed them answers. Pursuit of the truth can be best achieved through gentleness, but due to the lack of concern for Yang’s emotional experience, the interview ended prematurely.

There is a great deal of evidence for most of the atrocities committed during the Holocaust, but the fact that the Hmong people have been tragically marginalized limits their ability to come forward with evidence. In other words, for whatever reason – be it lack of resources, number of people, etc. – the story of the Hmong people was not told often or well enough, leaving them without the same somewhat-comforting legacy that Holocaust survivors and their descendants have. The journalists had an opportunity to make a sad story known – but because of the unkindness of the RadioLab podcasters, no clear story emerged here, and both the mystery of the Yellow Rain and the story of the Hmong people remain untold.

After reading the assigned articles, I was shocked about the enormity of the situations that journalists face in Syria. When I think of what is going on in the country, I think of unlucky people who have been forced to flee their everyday lives and escape their homelands. Prior to last class (and these readings), it never occurred to me that there are people moving toward the danger instead of against it; even with the inadequacy (in respect to volume and occasionally quality) of the reporting about the Syrian crises, I essentially ignored the fact that these journalists exist as people. The kidnappings, murders (both intentional and unintentional), and other war-related casualties that journalists face are so infrequently discussed, and when they are published as news, the stories usually reflect some kind of agenda – for example, when Jim Foley was killed, most news outlets (particularly those on the right wing of the political spectrum) spun the story to report the evils of ISIS and the group’s hatred of the West. Very few articles focused on Foley, the journalist; the media was intent on framing him as Foley, the victim of terrorism. By doing so, the news organizations – an industry to which Foley himself belonged! – ignored the humanity of the journalist, which may further exacerbate the conditions that reporters face abroad by detracting from one of the key issues in the Foley story.

While journalism itself is not about sentimentality and emotion, the dangers that reporters face in warzone situations does contribute to the flawed stream of articles that come from places like Syria. Reporting cannot exist without reporters, but because conditions in Syria are so terrible, consumers should not expect to have the typical, readily- available stream of information at their fingertips. This is tragic, because it will be impossible to help victims (reporters and citizens) in Syria without actually knowing what is going on. The journalists that risk their lives to cover these stories need to be offered more incentives to continue their work; payment of only a few dollars per story is insufficient for the type of work they’re doing, but unfortunately, the news media as a single entity seems reluctant to offer anything more.

I must admit (albeit somewhat shamefully) that Wednesday night’s Republican presidential debate was the first political debate I have ever watched in its entirety. Before I turned on the debate, I was expected to be sickened by the ideology of the Republican candidates; instead, I was more repulsed by the clearly-biased conduct of the liberal moderators, with whom I had expected to agree. As a Democrat myself, I definitely agreed with their criticism of the Republican candidates, but from a journalistic perspective, the moderators were being unfair. Though I wouldn’t go as far as to say I agreed with Rubio’s comment that liberals have control of the media (in fact, I actually scoffed when he said that – think of Fox News’s huge viewership!), on Wednesday night, the left certainly did have an advantage over the Republican candidates. I will admit that I cheered whenever the moderators slung an insult at the candidates – for example, Becky Quick’s contemptuous, wry remark that giving candidates time was “at the discretion of the moderator” – this level of bias has no place in journalism.

On a separate note, after Wednesday’s guest speaker came to discuss political coverage, I drew the conclusion that ratings are ultimately the downfall of good reporting. The problem with the modern media is that it is simply too profit-driven, which would be acceptable if the news media was a retail company instead of an information source. My views on political reporting have not changed much – I still believe that money is the worst motivator for the news media, though it seems to be the only effective incentive for non-cable outlets – but after the debate and the guest speaker, my preexisting views were only compounded with another dose of skepticism.

Because of the era difference between The Jungle and Fast Food Nation, the efficacy of each book cannot truly be compared to that of the other. Both of these books do share a great number of similarities: Each describes the horrors of the meatpacking industry, tells of companies’ disregard for the well-being of employees, fits into the category of “muckraking journalism,” and utilizes powerful language to invoke emotional reactions from readers. Beyond that, however, the effectiveness of similar each work was mostly dependent upon the time in which it was published. While Fast Food Nation was released during the twenty-first century – long after the first muckraking piece was published – Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle was among the first of its kind, giving it the added advantage of being utterly shocking to the stunned public.

It is interesting to note that The Jungle, though based on fact, was actually a fictional novel. Even so, after its publication in 1906, the American public began demanding federal regulation of the meatpacking industry; thanks to Sinclair’s efforts, legal provisions were passed that created what would ultimately become the Food and Drug Administration, which still exists today. When Fast Food Nation was published, however, the information it conveyed was hardly fresh news: The horrors of the meatpacking industry have long been documented by animal rights’ organizations, but the book still shocked with its accusations of employers’ neglect of human workers. Schlosser’s book did not have The Jungle’s advantage of being among the first of its kind, so while Sinclair will continue to be remembered as America’s first great muckraker, Eric Schlosser’s name may get lost in history, though he did the same type of work as his famous predecessor. If timelessness is a measure of a book’s effectiveness, then The Jungle certainly trumps Fast Food Nation. Aside from that, both of the works packed shock value that proved extremely valuable in raising awareness for abuses within the country’s most dangerous job, so within each book’s era, the influence that each had on its stunned readers was incredibly strong.

I consider myself to be only moderately politically-informed with regard to politics, but the fact that the Hillary Clinton email scandal remains even somewhat esoteric months after its release indicates that something was done wrong in its reporting, particularly the initial reporting of the story. When the New York Times first released the news, the scandal was made immediately popular by its subject’s presidential candidacy and status as the then-front runner of the Democratic Party. These facts awarded the story – which had still been in its early stages of development at the time – a measure of sensationalism, but it also made the story unusually heated and controversial. Members of the Republican Party seized the opportunity to exacerbate the issues that their archenemy was now facing, though the misfortunate (for Clinton, that is) timing of the story could not be blamed upon the reporters of the NYT. What could be blamed on the Times was their prioritizing with respect to the issue. In the case of the Clinton email scandal, journalists seemed to have forgotten that reporting and fiction writing are not synonymous, regardless of how much potential profit there is to be made. The Times’s desperation to publish the story/generate profit from its publication severely impaired the outlet’s typical dedication to accuracy, which subsequently led to a poorly-organized, incomprehensive article. Further, in yet another uncharacteristic move, the Times did not draw much attention to the edits made on the article until later. As a result, readers were left thinking that the original story remained true as they may have been unaware of the alterations made to the initial story.

It is really interesting to understand how and why different people react differently to Edward Snowden’s story. From a journalist’s perspective, Snowden is a hero, someone to be praised for enlightening the American people about its government’s indiscriminate surveillance of civilians. However, from the mindset of others – for example, government officials – Edward Snowden is a traitor that should be prosecuted for treason. Within the context of the story, I personally believe that Edward Snowden is both – a traitor for violating legalities that forbade him from publicizing classified information, but a hero, too, for doing so (but to me, his status of “hero” overshadows that of “traitor”).

Even when confronted with situations such as the Edward Snowden story, it can be said that journalists and news organizations have a duty to publish information granted to them by whistleblowers, in alignment with both their commercial job descriptions and the nature of their commitment to the public. The purpose of the news media is to keep the public informed, and the First Amendment allows for freedom of the press as a sort of essential checks-and-balances system for keeping the government in line. For cases like Snowden’s, in which the whistleblower is so determined to counteract wrongdoing that s/he is willing to risk any sort of personal consequences, news organizations must make it a priority to release information to the general population (while redacting that which may truly cause harm, such as in the case of future military plots). In this respect, Laura Poitras truly fulfilled her duty as a journalist: By putting personal concerns and risk aside and ensuring that the American people were made aware of governmental abuse of power, Poitras did a great service for the American people by releasing Snowden’s documents. With that being said, it is very unfortunate that Poitras and the news media are at least moderately protected under the First Amendment while Edward Snowden himself must live in exile indefinitely.

As mentioned in the New Yorker article, the way that Poitras framed the film was somewhat confusing, but by the time Citizenfour was released, the information within the documentary was already “old news.” I personally thought that the movie was fascinating and did an excellent job of shedding light upon Snowden’s motives for releasing information. For that reason, Citizenfour can be considered more of a moral analysis than a documentary – it definitely allows its audience enough thinking space to consider the ethics of Snowden’s situation, and for that reason, the film has the potential to remain relevant for all future cases of whistleblowing.