Soundbitten

The Perils of Media-Centered Political Activism

Sarah Sobieraj

• Publisher: NYU Press
• Year: 2011
• ISBN:
  9780814783863
• Topic: Sozialwissenschaften
• Subtopic: Medienwissenschaften

There is an elaborate and often invisible carnival that emerges alongside presidential campaigns as innumerable activist groups attempt to press their issues into mainstream political discourse. Sarah Sobieraj's fascinating ethnographic portrait of fifty diverse organizations over the course of two campaign cycles reveals that while most activist groups equate political success with media success and channel their energies accordingly, their efforts fail to generate news coverage and come with deleterious consequences. Sobieraj shows that activists' impact on public political debates is minimal, and carefully unravels the ways in which their all-consuming media work and unrelenting public relations approach undermine their ability to communicate with pedestrians, comes at the expense of other political activities, and perhaps most perniciously, damages the groups themselves.

Weaving together fieldwork, news analysis, and in-depth interviews with activists and journalists, Soundbitten illuminates the relationship between news and activist organizations. This captivating portrait of activism in the United States lays bare the challenges faced by outsiders struggling to be heard in a mass media dominated public sphere that proves exclusionary and shows that media-centrism is not only ineffective, but also damaging to group life. Soundbitten reveals why media-centered activism so often fails, what activist groups lose in the process, and why we should all be concerned.

1
What If the Whole World Isn’t Watching?

Activism, Presidential Campaigns, and the Thorny Struggle for Visibility

DURING THE 2000 Republican National Convention (RNC) in Philadelphia, a network of activists from across the country used human blockades reinforced with PVC piping and steel to close down five major traffic arteries for nearly two hours during rush hour. As I observed, a school bus filled with police officers in combat gear arrived, a gas truck rolled in, and loud, low-flying news helicopters hovered overhead while officers worked to dismantle the human roadblock. Activists who were not part of the blockade filled the streets and faced the barricade of protesters, dancing, drumming, and playing makeshift musical instruments in the hot, late afternoon sun. Some entertained the crowd with offbeat political street theater. Still others threw confetti and lent exuberant voices to familiar protest chants. The classic activist refrain, “The whole world is watching! The whole world is watching!,” was imbued with a new layer of meaning as it came from the mouths of activists brandishing camcorders, indicating to the police that any brutality would be documented. Amid the revelry, some participants were designated to provide medical care (one offered me sunscreen), and others disbursed bottled water to those embroiled in the lockdown. A handful of reporters crouched in front of the conjoined activists, posing questions and taking notes. Others watched from the sidelines, updating editors via cell phone, as they peered around the bystanders who filtered through, despite police efforts to disperse the crowd and secure the surrounding area.

Riot-gear-clad police, marching rhythmically in long lines with military precision and demeanor, worked to contain the boisterous crowd. The marching officers transitioned seamlessly into four rows, took the shape of a square around the intersection, and then turned to stand shoulder to shoulder, physically enclosing the protesters and supporters in the intersection. If this confinement bothered the activists they certainly didn’t show it, but I felt trapped. The once-celebratory political expression seemed distant, as the delicate boundary between well-mannered standoff and adrenaline-propelled conflict began to feel increasingly vulnerable. I wandered inside the square constructed by the rigid lines of stoic police officers with shielded chests and faces, moving through a crowd dense with clusters of emboldened activists, many marked by piercings, tattered shorts, and surplus-store messenger bags embellished with political buttons, patches, and pithy slogans rendered in uneven ballpoint ink. A smattering of notebook-wielding journalists, wearing running shoes and sporting layers of credentials around their necks like Mardi Gras beads, lingered within and beyond the square, watching and waiting. Over the course of a tense hour and a half, police detached the activists one at a time, binding their wrists with plastic handcuffs and dragging them to the school bus despite passive resistance. By the end of the long, disruptive standoff, more than 400 people had been arrested.

Amid the turbulence, I was certain this was a historic moment. I envisioned my family watching CNN as the events unfolded and feared they would worry. Yet I soon discovered that the drama in which I was immersed had slipped almost completely under the radar. The New York Times gave the event a single 640-word story that was buried in the paper’s late edition. The account was descriptive and accurate but never mentioned what had compelled so many people to do something so dramatic. A group named Disrupt¹ had planned and carried out this complex, illegal action because its members felt they had something exceptionally important to say that was relevant to the election. That “something” went unheard.

This book works to reconcile this puzzle, showing how activism erupts around the perimeter of presidential elections, unraveling why activists’ efforts remain largely invisible, and looking at what activist groups lose in the process. Early in my research, I thought this would be a book about how activist groups use presidential elections as moments of political opening, but as I spent time with activists engaged in campaign-related work I came to realize that first and foremost this is a story about activists and the news media.

• • •

Nearly six months before Disrupt’s civil disobedience, during the presidential primary season, a minor story in the Metro section of the New York Times caught my eye. The two leading Democratic candidates, Al Gore and Bill Bradley, were scheduled to appear at Harlem’s Apollo Theater, in the only face-to-face debate prior to the New York primary. Two days before the debate, the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees (IATSE), the union representing the Apollo Theater stagehands, threatened a walkout if management would not give them a signed contract. With representatives from both campaigns vowing that their respective candidates would not cross a picket line, the union’s demands were met the next day. IATSE alleged that theater management had been refusing to negotiate in good faith, and they approached the high-profile debate as an opportunity to end an uncomfortable five-month standoff. It worked.

IATSE’s ingenuity in using the debate as leverage on an issue unrelated to the election led me to wonder if other groups approach key campaign events as windows of opportunity. What opportunities do activists see in election years, how do they choose to respond to them, and what transpires as a result of their efforts?

This book emerges out of these questions and the search for answers that ensued in their wake. I immersed myself in activism around presidential debates and nominating conventions in 2000 and 2004. After following the work of 50 groups engaged in campaign-related activism and talking at length with their members, I resurfaced with paradoxical answers. Although I was propelled into the research by IATSE’s instrumental use of the debate, not one of the groups I studied enjoyed this level of success. In fact, in the final analysis, the brief, politically impoverished news coverage of Disrupt was one of the most noteworthy outcomes for any of the groups I studied. How do we make sense of IATSE’s success as we compare it to the challenges faced by Disrupt and its peers? If Disrupt is the most successful organization with which I worked over the course of two campaign cycles, what does this say about political activism? How do we reconcile Disrupt’s quite sizable mobilization with its inability to influence (or even enter) campaign-related discourse?

I will show that a tremendous amount of robust political activism emerges around presidential campaigns, but the story beneath the rallies, teach-ins, protests, and petitions is considerably less encouraging. We will see that unlike IATSE, whose action made targeted demands of its management, most groups drawn to major campaign events focus on more nebulous goals. In particular, they are mobilized by a perceived opportunity to shape mainstream political discourse via the news media, and they channel their energies accordingly. This rampant media-centrism proves ineffective and in some ways even destructive. Activists’ often-outrageous attempts to lure journalists politicize public spaces in memorable ways, but for most groups the pursuit of media attention is largely futile, brings with it important organizational costs (including missed opportunities to connect with one another and with the people they encounter in the course of their work), and comes at the expense of other political activities.

These outcomes are problematic for the groups I study, but they also signal larger issues that require attention. Because the mass media serve as the “master forum” in which political debates are waged, the activists’ inability to become news is about more than fifteen minutes of fame; it is fundamentally about who is able to participate in discussions about social and political issues.² The proliferation of media-centered activism, then, reveals a chasm between civil society and the public sphere—concepts I will explore in this chapter—that both limits associations’ ability to live up to normative visions proffered by existing theories of civil society and raises troubling questions about the inclusivity of American democracy.

Media-centrism was not limited to civil disobedience collectives like Disrupt. Indeed, there was a range of groups active around key campaign events. Some were social movement organizations, but there were also religious organizations, large national citizen groups, and nonpartisan civic organizations. The organizations examined in this book reflect the diversity of the associational universe. In light of this, the umbrella term “voluntary association” and its sibling “voluntary organization” most accurately honor these groups’ varied forms and uniting principles. I use these terms frequently throughout this book, but in the interest of readability I also take the liberty of using quasisynonyms that are overly broad (e.g., “groups”) and overly narrow (e.g., “activist organizations”). In all cases, I use these varied and imperfect terms to refer to collectives that are nonfamilial, intentional, and freely entered, and which do not exist as a result of state coercion or for the purpose of generating profit. The breadth and diversity of the associational universe was visible when I stepped into the field. Presidential campaigns serve as catalysts for much of civil society, including, but by no means limited to, social movements.

What’s So Special About Presidential campaigns?

Presidential campaigns provide an inviting atmosphere for activism. The campaign context is viewed by scholars of both civil society and social movements as presenting a special opportunity for voluntary organizations. There is research in the social movements literature that addresses elections as political opportunities, such as the work done by Blee and Currier (2006), Earl and Schussman (2004), Goldstone (2003), Meyer (1993, 2005, 2007), Meyer and Minkoff (2004), and Van Dyke (2003). In the civil society literature, Tocqueville ([1835] 2000) viewed elections as politically mobilizing, and Habermas (1996) clings to elections as moments that heighten the level of influence civil society has in the public sphere. Elections create opportunities for groups that are explicitly organized around political issues, as well as for organizations for whom political interests are secondary, and even those that normally focus their efforts elsewhere (e.g., the Apollo Theater stagehands union). Presidential campaigns are compelling to these groups because of their unique clustering of attributes: breadth, significance, liminality, geographic dispersion, periodicity, and publicity.³

Breadth refers to the multiplicity of issues that are open for debate during presidential campaigns. As an ever-increasing number of issues once understood as private (e.g., sexual behavior or domestic violence) have been thrust into the public sphere, presidential campaigns have become venues for open discussion of virtually all matters of common concern. It is difficult to imagine another arena in which immigration, environmental issues, the death penalty, public education, same-sex marriage, health care, trade agreements, tax policy, and stem cell research are all deemed relevant. This abundance of potentially salient issues renders the campaign context pertinent for an overwhelming number of voluntary associations. Some mobilize because candidates raise an issue central to their organization, while others attempt to force politicians to address an issue that is not on the agenda.

With respect to significance, presidential elections are consequential; the winner will be imbued with arguably more power than the victor in any other election in the world. The outcome will have local, national, and global effects. Thus, pro-choice and pro-life groups may be more active during a presidential campaign than a local campaign, because of the president’s control over Supreme Court nominations. The weight of these elections serves to increase the perceived importance of participation and heightens the incentive for association involvement.

The uncertain outcome of a presidential election confers campaigns with a liminality that presents a political opportunity.⁴ By empowering a new set of leaders or re-sanctioning the incumbents, elections present political apertures during which activists can attempt to assert influence through a variety of mechanisms, including, but not limited to, offering candidate endorsements, making campaign contributions, protesting, publicizing candidate records or proclivities that please or displease them, and working to shape party platforms. In some instances liminality may prove mobilizing because it produces a sense of anxiety (as opposed to efficacy), leading groups to seek control of the outcome.⁵ Either way, this vulnerability, this political openness, prompts engagement.

Presidential campaigns are also geographically dispersed, moving politics outside Washington. Nominating conventions and televised debates take place beyond the Beltway, and candidates make countless stops across the country to give stump speeches, patronize neighborhood eateries, visit classrooms, and make themselves available to civic organizations. Hart (2000) argues that the campaign process brings candidates in closer contact with the public than they are likely to experience again once they enter the White House. The presence of candidates in local communities is an attractive opportunity for organizations hoping to have their political concerns addressed.

Presidential campaigns are also periodic. That is, they happen every four years. This regularity enables associations to anticipate and prepare interventions in a way that other major national events with the aforementioned characteristics do not. Natural and man-made disasters (e.g., Three Mile Island or Hurricane Katrina) and other crises (e.g., 9/11) bring politicians out of Washington, present moments of great uncertainty, and render many issues salient, but they occur without warning. The predictable lead time offered by presidential campaign events (e.g., conventions, debates, inaugurations) gives activists ample opportunity to mobilize, choose tactics, and make necessary preparations, such as securing permits, renting equipment, soliciting donations, and publicizing their efforts.

Finally, presidential campaigns bring with them publicity. The national press pool that follows each candidate, and the throng of local news personnel that joins them at each stop, create myriad perceived opportunities for associations to garner publicity. In addition to responding to journalists’ questions and distributing unsolicited press releases, activists can stage events designed to capture the attention of the news media. Dayan and Katz (1992) explain that the prospect of sending a message to a national or international audience makes media events vulnerable to “hijacking” by outsiders in search of publicity.⁶ The belief that they will be able to attract coverage is compelling to activists who hope such attention will help them reach candidates, voters, and political parties as well as potential new members, contributors, and supporters.

This uncommon clustering of qualities inspires activists but does little to explain the unsatisfying outcomes experienced by the groups I will introduce in the pages of this book. Turning to the literature on civil society and the public sphere, we are left scratching our heads. While some argue that civil society is dead and others see it as vital, none really explains this peculiarity. What if we have a civil society that is robust and participatory but also invisible and inefficacious? And if this is true, why is this happening?

Civil Society, the Public Sphere, and Mobilization

Civil society is the arena of public group life, the terrain of voluntary associations. Although the term civil society has a long history in political and social theory,⁷ I use it in the contemporary sense, to refer to that sector of society that is analytically distinct from the state, the market, and the realm of the family.⁸ In their myriad formal and informal incarnations, the groups that populate civil society connect people to one another and channel individual energies, interests, and talents. They are the skeletal underpinnings of civil society and serve as a locus for civic engagement in both its episodic and enduring forms. In association, participants may discover common interests, develop community, attempt to influence public opinion, and seek to initiate or maintain public policies consistent with their definitions of a good society.

In many ways, voluntary associations can be understood as the infrastructure of civil society. As such, they are indispensable but not infallible. Many have romanticized voluntary associations and the civic engagement that they facilitate, but a growing body of research suggests that the results of involvement are contingent on context and may fail to live up to, or may even subvert, normative ideals.⁹

While Habermas argues that at least temporary consensus can be reached in healthy civil societies through rational-critical discourse, this process of articulating and asserting the public will is complicated by frequent conflicts over what constitutes the good society and how it should be approximated. Thus, while the will of the people theoretically emerges through the development of shared interests and unconstrained communication, in reality the public interest is defined in innumerable ways. In addition to political interests and group identities, cultural meanings and taken-for-granted assumptions are often created, negotiated, and challenged within civil society.¹⁰ The coexistence of competing concerns, views, and objectives manifest themselves in constant pressure for and resistance to political and cultural change on an array of fronts, from minor community disputes to issues of international significance. The ebb and flow of these struggles contribute to the ever-changing dynamics within and between voluntary associations, as well as those between civil society and non-civil sectors. As a result, civil society is best understood not only as a stable and homogeneous space characterized by consensus and solidarity, but also as a fluid and heterogeneous space of contest and conflict.

The term public sphere refers simultaneously to the practice of open discussion about matters of common concern and the public spaces that serve as settings for such dialogue, such as parks, e-mail lists, community centers, newspapers, and plazas. The public sphere thus refers both to public dialogue about matters of general concern and to the places where these discussions transpire. This incarnation of the concept stems largely from Habermas’s (1989) The Structural Transformation of the Public S...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• 1 What If the Whole World Isn’t Watching? Activism, Presidential Campaigns, and the Thorny Struggle for Visibility
• 2 Campaign Events as Catalysts The Politicization of Public Space
• 3 Streets as Stage The Many Faces of Publicity
• 4 “Apparently They Don’t Like Succinct and Articulate” Journalists, Activists, and the Battle over News
• 5 Wait, Isn’t That a Bird in Your Hand? Pushing Bystanders out of the Way in an Effort to Reach “the Public”
• 6 What About Us? Bittersweet Residues of Mobilization
• Epilogue Web 2.0 and Election 2008
• Appendix Methods
• Notes
• References
• Index
• About the Author