A customized democracy

Families once huddled around their radios listening to the nightly news

When I was 15 years old living in Cody, Wyoming, I distinctly remember my sister turning off the vacuum at 10:00 p.m. She wanted to hear the final radio broadcast of the day. If she missed those moments, she would have no other way to recover the news of the day until the morning newspaper arrived. Today, such limited access to information would be unthinkable...and inconceivable.

Gone are the days of families crowding around their radios waiting for a national broadcast. Gone are the days of Americans flocking to movie theaters for entertainment as well as for newsreels. Today information is offered up 24/7/365 from a plethora of sources: talk shows, RSS feeds, podcasts, emails, blogs, discussion forums, chat rooms, YouTube videos, Facebook conversations, text messages, and so on. 

In fact, these days technology is so “smart” we don’t even have to go after news and opinions. Instead, they come to us, customized to suit our individual preferences. In many ways, the Internet has been the great leveler, the fundamental equalizer. It may well be the quintessential symbol of democracy, offering the ultimate freedom of choice. I, alone, will choose what to hear, think, say, and believe. This relatively new phenomenon of equal, free, and easy access to information gives us the choice to listen or not to listen, to share or not to share.

From the dawn of time, people have feared new technologies. The automobile, for example, though now ubiquitous, was once maligned by staunch horse-and-buggy fans. More recently, pagers and cell phones created great consternation, especially among parents of teenage children. Without exception, every technology is met with at least some degree of skepticism if not by an all-out opposition. Such concern is usually rooted in fear of change, but—like it or not—change is inevitable.

Therefore, it does no good to simply damn technology by issuing a shrill, Luddite warning. Instead, we should consciously consider what changes are effected by new technologies. In his book, The Wal-Mart Effect, Charles Fishman suggests that, rather than trying to stop the proliferation of Wal-Mart stores, we as citizens be acutely aware of the consequences of rapid growth and make informed decisions accordingly. Similarly, complaining will not stop the development and adoption of new technologies; however, it is wise to ponder and mark how technology is reshaping our family behavior patterns, communities, and national conscience.

Let’s go back to the nightly newscast in Cody, Wyoming. Because my sister tuned in, so did I. Naturally, a conversation between us ensued. Did we agree or disagree with the newscaster? Were we shocked, amazed, or disgruntled by the politicians’ decisions? And so forth. The object of our conversation was not to necessarily agree with each other, but hearing the broadcast was a shared experience, and we processed the information together--a cause and effect.

Contrast that experience with my own family’s technology patterns more than 30 years later. On a typical evening, we are most often found using technology discretely: one watches TV while another is plugged into her iPod; one does Google searches on the computer while someone else sends text messages on his smartphone. Engaged? Very. But not necessarily engaged with each other. By having full access to so much technology and information, families tend to gather less often to discuss and process. Consequently, they risk becoming silos of information and opinions without having a sense of common principles and ideals.

This microcosm is reflected in the larger society, too. Online communities, for example, are growing exponentially; we now have more ways to connect to more dialogue in wider circles, so we are not limited to the opinions of those in our local coffee shops, town halls, and neighborhoods. Ironically, though, because the Internet gives us instant access to so many people and so much information, we rarely experience as groups a common transfer of information. In other words, while it is becoming easier to participate in conversations, perhaps it is becoming more difficult to identify what the national conversation truly is.

Lately, I’ve been reading about Winston Churchill, the great orator and gutsy British statesman whose messages were heard by not one but many nations living in danger, distress, and fear during World War II. Churchill’s messages had the power to inspire, lift, and electrify. His words galvanized ordinary citizens to contribute to the daunting task of bringing down the Axis powers. Imagine being huddled around the family radio and hearing some of the following words crackling through the speaker:

• “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
• “Never give in, never give in, never; never; never; never - in nothing, great or small, large or petty - never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.”
• “We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”
• “Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival.”

What would it have been like to hear and process these powerful messages as a family, as a neighborhood, and, ultimately, as a nation? Would you have sat a little taller, tried a little harder, and felt a little braver after hearing "The Lion roar”?

Perhaps only in times of war, crisis, or campaigns will we return to simultaneous, real-time messaging moments. However, for the sake of our families, communities, and country, it might be well for us to occasionally gather around our proverbial radios in order to listen to issues and discuss them together.