Last week, I completed my first law school class as an undergraduate. Through a program called "Project Excellence" (Could they have picked a more pretentious title?), the Barrett college allows undergrads to take classes in the Sandra Day O'Connor College of Law. My class focused on information privacy law, which I thought would be an acceptable tie-in for a journalism major as well as an interesting topic to get some experience in an actual law school class. Right now during finals week, I'm just glad to be done.
I really did enjoy the class, taught by Dr. "Sandy" Askland, who proved extremely helpful for the three of us undergrads struggling up the learning curve. The class' small size (a 20-person seminar) also helped in comprehending the material, typically presented to 2L or 3L (second- or third-year) students. However, with certainty, I can say I've never had so much reading for a class before. It was a struggle to acclimate to law lingo and the work load expected of veteran law students, while not actually a law student myself.
It was also a bit intimidating to be among older, advanced students. The first day, one sitting next to me asked what year I was — "You a 2L or a 3L?" — to which I responded, "Oh, no. I'm an undergrad." The student turned to his friend and said, loudly, "Dude! This kid is an undergrad!" A true statement, though a bit embarrassing to have announced to the entire class. My dad loves that story.
So, all-in-all, it was lot of work. BUT, I did feel pretty spiffy walking around with my giant, leather-bound law book.
Below is my final paper on Internet anonymity. Of course, I'm still not sure of the result from an academic perspective (final grads haven't been posted yet) but I feel pretty good about it — my first ever law school paper.
Privacy of Identity and Association Online
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Protesters, journalists and Sheriff Arpaio
Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio faced questions from a panel of professor/reporters last night at the Cronkite School in a Meet-The-Press-style interview session, but the event was cut short by Queen-inspired protesters, just as Arpaio reached the topic of immigration enforcement.
Full disclosure: I am a Cronkite School student currently working on a thesis project about undocumented students and immigration law. That's the main reason I decided to attend the Arpaio event Monday night. I've heard the sheriff talk many times before while interning as a reporter for the Arizona Republic. I even covered a pro-Arpaio rally starring the man himself. I feel pretty confident in knowing the type of answers he gives and the rationale behind his actions. (see: "I'm just enforcing the law.") However, I needed more footage for my project, and figured the evening would be interesting — Arpaio speaking in my own living room, as it were.
I wasn't disappointed.
In a room filled with approximately 200 people (mostly ASU students), tensions were high as Arpaio spoke. The panel focused most on issues concerning First Amendment rights and public records requests for information, as well as the alleged intimidation of reporters by the Sheriff's Office. Arpaio's answers were anything but forthright. In most cases, he redirected and often just responded by whining about the media. (It brought a sharp in my mind between the allowances journalists give interviews in comparison to, say, a lawyer questioning a witness. Arpaio would make a terrible, non-responsive witness.) I could tell the reporters attempting to question him were getting frustrated. Rick Rodriguez, one of the panel members, spent a good ten minutes trying to get a straight answer regarding threats made to reporters before ultimately moving on.
That's not to say the panel's questions weren't effective. Many times, Arpaio seemed visibly uncomfortable. Further, the audience of skeptical, young students was anything but supportive of the sheriff's coy remarks.
Singing broke out as the questions turned to immigration enforcement, about 15 minutes before the event's end. Standing on the third-level above the forum, I could see the group of protesters. They were obviously students (police officers were only admitting ASU students into the building due to crowd concerns), and I believe they were not journalism students because I didn't recognize any of them. To the tune of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," the protesters continued to sing for upward of five minutes, enduring shouts for quiet from the surrounding crowd. Arpaio left the stage without a word.
I know immigration is a heated topic; I'm doing my undergrad/graduate thesis on undocumented students. There's no doubt that it is a compelling issue, one of high drama and divisive opinion. However, I wish the protesters had found a better way — say, silently hanging signs. Ultimately, what the singers disrupted was not an event supporting the sheriff but a panel of reports asking very critical questions of him — a rare opportunity for accountability. I see nothing wrong with their convictions, but this act was undecided misdirected.
I doubt the protesters understood their actions' consequence: they rescued Sheriff Arpaio from the hot seat. Young people seem to favor rash action and a moment of consideration might have caused them to at least delay their display.
Regardless, I doubt Arpaio will return to the Cronkite School's "Must See Mondays" soon.
Here's a link to Cronkite School writer-in-residence Terry Greene's account of the event. Greene is currently writing a book on immigration and is one of my thesis directors.
Full disclosure: I am a Cronkite School student currently working on a thesis project about undocumented students and immigration law. That's the main reason I decided to attend the Arpaio event Monday night. I've heard the sheriff talk many times before while interning as a reporter for the Arizona Republic. I even covered a pro-Arpaio rally starring the man himself. I feel pretty confident in knowing the type of answers he gives and the rationale behind his actions. (see: "I'm just enforcing the law.") However, I needed more footage for my project, and figured the evening would be interesting — Arpaio speaking in my own living room, as it were.
I wasn't disappointed.
In a room filled with approximately 200 people (mostly ASU students), tensions were high as Arpaio spoke. The panel focused most on issues concerning First Amendment rights and public records requests for information, as well as the alleged intimidation of reporters by the Sheriff's Office. Arpaio's answers were anything but forthright. In most cases, he redirected and often just responded by whining about the media. (It brought a sharp in my mind between the allowances journalists give interviews in comparison to, say, a lawyer questioning a witness. Arpaio would make a terrible, non-responsive witness.) I could tell the reporters attempting to question him were getting frustrated. Rick Rodriguez, one of the panel members, spent a good ten minutes trying to get a straight answer regarding threats made to reporters before ultimately moving on.
That's not to say the panel's questions weren't effective. Many times, Arpaio seemed visibly uncomfortable. Further, the audience of skeptical, young students was anything but supportive of the sheriff's coy remarks.
Singing broke out as the questions turned to immigration enforcement, about 15 minutes before the event's end. Standing on the third-level above the forum, I could see the group of protesters. They were obviously students (police officers were only admitting ASU students into the building due to crowd concerns), and I believe they were not journalism students because I didn't recognize any of them. To the tune of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," the protesters continued to sing for upward of five minutes, enduring shouts for quiet from the surrounding crowd. Arpaio left the stage without a word.
I know immigration is a heated topic; I'm doing my undergrad/graduate thesis on undocumented students. There's no doubt that it is a compelling issue, one of high drama and divisive opinion. However, I wish the protesters had found a better way — say, silently hanging signs. Ultimately, what the singers disrupted was not an event supporting the sheriff but a panel of reports asking very critical questions of him — a rare opportunity for accountability. I see nothing wrong with their convictions, but this act was undecided misdirected.
I doubt the protesters understood their actions' consequence: they rescued Sheriff Arpaio from the hot seat. Young people seem to favor rash action and a moment of consideration might have caused them to at least delay their display.
Regardless, I doubt Arpaio will return to the Cronkite School's "Must See Mondays" soon.
Here's a link to Cronkite School writer-in-residence Terry Greene's account of the event. Greene is currently writing a book on immigration and is one of my thesis directors.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Finding a future business model
I just finished a paper on the future business model of journalism. My first reflection? Finding new sources of money is hard work.
It's difficult to distill all the industry's problems into a coherent blog post. So, I'm going to put one of the lessons we learned in class this semester to good use and link to what I'm just too lazy to explain myself.
In the old, proverbial nutshell, journalism is struggling because the Internet has disrupted the old mass-advertising business model. Journalists never sold their content; they sold their readers — to advertisers. In fact, subscribers to the daily newspaper pay a pittance of the costs that go into producing the paper. The actual cost is heavily subsidized by ad revenue. Accordingly, most people believe pay-walls and subscription content simply won't work as a viable business model. Variations on the pay-wall model could provide some options, but this still lies well within the realm of traditionalist thinking. Some politicians have proposed government plans to save journalists, but most journalists despise the idea of being beholden to the government and doubt public support would allow such a plan to proceed.
But, journalists being journalists, there is an abundance of ideas to reshape the industry. Most seem to be evolved content models, focusing on new ways to gathering and producing news that would add inherent value to the product, and thus, attract more readers and hopefully make it worth forking over some money. Others have approached new revenue models such as low- and non-profits ventures. Still others advocate enhanced services for advertisers to reclaim some of the lost ad revenue.
Frankly, it's not surprising that journalists would write about and post their ideas for the future of journalism — it's what we do. It really opens up the different thought processes to a level of transparency I doubt many other industries experience. I don't doubt, however, that these blogs contain the seeds of journalism's future.
Regardless, having combed the blogs of countless journalists all searching for an answer, it seems a shame not to add my voice as well. Below, I've posted the paper submitted to my graduate business-of-journalism class. I'll admit, much of the paper is set up and explanation (per the professor's request), but I believe in my conclusion. Through synthesizing what many of the more radical voices are saying, I believe journalism must evolve in order to stay relevant on the Internet, and the best way to do this is to offer a unique information service — not too great a stretch for journalists, but enough to jostle the entrenched, corporate side.
Reimagining Journalism and the ‘Service’ Media Business Model
It's difficult to distill all the industry's problems into a coherent blog post. So, I'm going to put one of the lessons we learned in class this semester to good use and link to what I'm just too lazy to explain myself.
In the old, proverbial nutshell, journalism is struggling because the Internet has disrupted the old mass-advertising business model. Journalists never sold their content; they sold their readers — to advertisers. In fact, subscribers to the daily newspaper pay a pittance of the costs that go into producing the paper. The actual cost is heavily subsidized by ad revenue. Accordingly, most people believe pay-walls and subscription content simply won't work as a viable business model. Variations on the pay-wall model could provide some options, but this still lies well within the realm of traditionalist thinking. Some politicians have proposed government plans to save journalists, but most journalists despise the idea of being beholden to the government and doubt public support would allow such a plan to proceed.
But, journalists being journalists, there is an abundance of ideas to reshape the industry. Most seem to be evolved content models, focusing on new ways to gathering and producing news that would add inherent value to the product, and thus, attract more readers and hopefully make it worth forking over some money. Others have approached new revenue models such as low- and non-profits ventures. Still others advocate enhanced services for advertisers to reclaim some of the lost ad revenue.
Frankly, it's not surprising that journalists would write about and post their ideas for the future of journalism — it's what we do. It really opens up the different thought processes to a level of transparency I doubt many other industries experience. I don't doubt, however, that these blogs contain the seeds of journalism's future.
Regardless, having combed the blogs of countless journalists all searching for an answer, it seems a shame not to add my voice as well. Below, I've posted the paper submitted to my graduate business-of-journalism class. I'll admit, much of the paper is set up and explanation (per the professor's request), but I believe in my conclusion. Through synthesizing what many of the more radical voices are saying, I believe journalism must evolve in order to stay relevant on the Internet, and the best way to do this is to offer a unique information service — not too great a stretch for journalists, but enough to jostle the entrenched, corporate side.
Reimagining Journalism and the ‘Service’ Media Business Model
Monday, October 19, 2009
Skyping with Jeff Jarvis
Earlier today, my Cronkite School business-of-media class had a Skype-enabled Q&A conversation with CUNY professor and author Jeff Jarvis. Talk about practice what you preach.
Jarvis has been a consistent resource for my media professor, Tim McGuire. If Jarvis could get a telepathic 'hit' for ever time the words "Jarvis says..." authoritatively passed my professor's lips, I'm sure he would absolutely love our class by now. Jarvis says that companies in the age of the Internet must open up. Jarvis says proprietary standards are obsolete. Jarvis says media companies must create platforms for communities. That's not to say my professor doesn't have his own opinions about what "Jarvis says," but suffice it to say, he has a substantial impact on class discussion.
Today, however, the class took a step toward making what "Jarvis says" a reality. Using a camera-enabled mac and the free Internet-video-chatting program Skype, a journalism class in Phoenix, Arizona, was effectively taught by a journalism professor in New York City. I can think of no better example of a "flat world," as Thomas Friedman calls it.
Traditionally, universities have flouted the quality of their professors to attract students. Well look out, because our experience today seems to indicate students and professors no longer need universities to bring them together. As seems to be the ruling aphorism of our generation: the Internet make it possible.
Jarvis has been a consistent resource for my media professor, Tim McGuire. If Jarvis could get a telepathic 'hit' for ever time the words "Jarvis says..." authoritatively passed my professor's lips, I'm sure he would absolutely love our class by now. Jarvis says that companies in the age of the Internet must open up. Jarvis says proprietary standards are obsolete. Jarvis says media companies must create platforms for communities. That's not to say my professor doesn't have his own opinions about what "Jarvis says," but suffice it to say, he has a substantial impact on class discussion.
Today, however, the class took a step toward making what "Jarvis says" a reality. Using a camera-enabled mac and the free Internet-video-chatting program Skype, a journalism class in Phoenix, Arizona, was effectively taught by a journalism professor in New York City. I can think of no better example of a "flat world," as Thomas Friedman calls it.
Traditionally, universities have flouted the quality of their professors to attract students. Well look out, because our experience today seems to indicate students and professors no longer need universities to bring them together. As seems to be the ruling aphorism of our generation: the Internet make it possible.
Friday, September 25, 2009
the individualist
For my grad communications class I've been reading The World Is Flat by Thomas Friedman, and while I'm reluctant to jump on the number-one-best-selling bandwagon — either from lingering post-pubescent nonconformism or my own, individual brand of neurosis (did you catch the irony?) — I have to admit its insight.
The crux, so far as I can discern about half way through, is that technological changes and standardization have broken down the "practical constraints" that once held people back from engaging in more efficient practices, i.e. collaboration, outsourcing, content production, etc. More importantly from my perspective, it provides a pretty comprehensive explanation of how the world is changing re: empowering individuals.
Friedman breaks it down like this: The human world has gone through stages in which various entities maintain control. So far as modern history is concerned, up until about the 1800s, countries held the reigns. After, industrialization gave corporations the power, which grew quite powerful thanks to burgeoning globalization. According to Friedman, the turn of the century represents the end of the corporate epoch and the beginning of individual empowerment, in which individuals have control and leverage over globalization, production tools, and vast resources. As an individual myself, this sounds pretty good to me.
And it answers the question journalists have been asking since 2000 rolled around: Where did all these citizen journalists come from? Well, they came from the advent of the PC, standardized word processing software, and a series of fiber optic wires promulgated during the dot-com boom. QED.
I'm sure Friedman would appreciate the illustrative elements of my even posting this. It shows how publishing has become decentralized, no longer relying on journalistic institutions or "the media" for its distribution. None of this is particularly tragic for me in light of my communications career choice; it simply means I must approach it from a different angle. Soon, no doubt, no one will need the media. That doesn't mean it will disappear. It does, however, mean the media will lose the substantial power its enjoyed as the only distributor of content. In my future, I see no free lunches on the corporate tab. But then, as a free-minded, decentralized individual, maybe I should never have wanted them anyway.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
a time for impracticality
After almost two years of constant career-priming, it's about time for a semester off.
School started again, and despite my seemingly crazy ambitions, I'm glad to be taking some time off from my journalism studies: I'm taking mostly philosophy and law classes this semester. The first week has been a rough transition. My background in communications doesn't translate well to the more abstract thought of the great philosophers, and I find myself out-paced by all the poli sci and philosophy majors that I usually loath (but that's another issue entirely).
It's a time to rethink my priorities and take a breather from the career-treadmill I've been running. I love studying law and philosophy because, so far as I can see, at no other point in my life will I have time and support required to think about such vast and far-reaching ideas. The depth of thought and discussion I can reach in class is the antithesis to my "more practical" internships and skill-studies. Perhaps this semester will bring me back from the brink, instilling a good balance in my education. I can only hope.
School started again, and despite my seemingly crazy ambitions, I'm glad to be taking some time off from my journalism studies: I'm taking mostly philosophy and law classes this semester. The first week has been a rough transition. My background in communications doesn't translate well to the more abstract thought of the great philosophers, and I find myself out-paced by all the poli sci and philosophy majors that I usually loath (but that's another issue entirely).
It's a time to rethink my priorities and take a breather from the career-treadmill I've been running. I love studying law and philosophy because, so far as I can see, at no other point in my life will I have time and support required to think about such vast and far-reaching ideas. The depth of thought and discussion I can reach in class is the antithesis to my "more practical" internships and skill-studies. Perhaps this semester will bring me back from the brink, instilling a good balance in my education. I can only hope.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
dying industries
My girlfriend and I are both entering into "dying industries," or so she tells me. (This has the potential to become a great contest, re: my industry will last longer than yours.)
Really, they are the same industry split into specialties, with discrete distinctions that, beyond targeted experience and expertise, could easily be seen as singular. We both love — and study — writing and the print industry: me journalism, her publishing/editing. Often times I feel more pragmatic about the industry's difficulties. I'm trying to make myself flexible, dedicated and as open as possible to change. My girlfriend usually expresses her hatred for publishing's grim-reapers — Google Books, Amazon, and the Kindle — while bemoaning the trend away from ornately designed book covers and to generic omni-devices (though she loves her iPhone). But she's doing things to diversify as well — any novelty turned to advantage once school ends.
Yet, I don't feel like I'm entering a dying industry. The same doom-preaching chorus relaying the trials of the industry today (my j-school professors at ASU) now sits in a completely new university building, filled with the latest technology and creative minds. If there was ever a place to innovate and save the bottom line, it would be there. And while I've seen countless "goodbye-and-good-luck" e-mails at work, their authors usually seem poised to carry on elsewhere. So many mind-blowing projects are emerging from web designers, journalists and innovators, why has so much fear promulgated? The fear comes from economic uncertainty. Corporations and organizations have lost their Earth-turning profits, and thus, the industry is dying.
But what is an "industry," and why am I entering it in the first place? I'm not discounting the need for profits, but pushing past monetary motivations to the real spirit of why we do what we do — love for what we do — breeds a lot of optimism in me. If "industry" requires profits, perhaps I don't need it. I've no stock holders to appease, no board to satisfy. Halfway through college and embroiled in your-future discussions, concepts like "the industry" seem an unnecessary middleman to my main concern: me and doing what I love. Instead of singing odes to a dying industry, we should be consciously carving out our own space in, not an industry, but a living, however and with whomever we can.
Really, they are the same industry split into specialties, with discrete distinctions that, beyond targeted experience and expertise, could easily be seen as singular. We both love — and study — writing and the print industry: me journalism, her publishing/editing. Often times I feel more pragmatic about the industry's difficulties. I'm trying to make myself flexible, dedicated and as open as possible to change. My girlfriend usually expresses her hatred for publishing's grim-reapers — Google Books, Amazon, and the Kindle — while bemoaning the trend away from ornately designed book covers and to generic omni-devices (though she loves her iPhone). But she's doing things to diversify as well — any novelty turned to advantage once school ends.
Yet, I don't feel like I'm entering a dying industry. The same doom-preaching chorus relaying the trials of the industry today (my j-school professors at ASU) now sits in a completely new university building, filled with the latest technology and creative minds. If there was ever a place to innovate and save the bottom line, it would be there. And while I've seen countless "goodbye-and-good-luck" e-mails at work, their authors usually seem poised to carry on elsewhere. So many mind-blowing projects are emerging from web designers, journalists and innovators, why has so much fear promulgated? The fear comes from economic uncertainty. Corporations and organizations have lost their Earth-turning profits, and thus, the industry is dying.
But what is an "industry," and why am I entering it in the first place? I'm not discounting the need for profits, but pushing past monetary motivations to the real spirit of why we do what we do — love for what we do — breeds a lot of optimism in me. If "industry" requires profits, perhaps I don't need it. I've no stock holders to appease, no board to satisfy. Halfway through college and embroiled in your-future discussions, concepts like "the industry" seem an unnecessary middleman to my main concern: me and doing what I love. Instead of singing odes to a dying industry, we should be consciously carving out our own space in, not an industry, but a living, however and with whomever we can.
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