means that the field came into being as an intersection of other fields, borrowing methods and philosophies from them, even as those other fields were more focused on the content that media scholars were also studying. Thus, media scholars were more likely to be able to say something about the media instantiations of various messages, leaving observations about how the messages themselves could affect people to those with expertise in the content areas of those messages. But we have learned that it is difficult to speak about form without reference to content, and in fact, in the end, many media effects theories really are about content anyway, just as much as form. In this book, I draw attention to what is really becoming obvious about media effects, which is that media’s impact on people is heavily involved with narrative, the foremost way in which people receive and understand information of any kind.
This is a good place to make a disclaimer. This book is not by any means intended to be an exhaustive review of the field. As noted above, there are some good texts that already do a very good job of presenting the wide variety of theories, approaches, and methods that have been used throughout the years. An example of a good encyclopedic source would be Oliver, Raney, and Bryant’s Media effects: Advances in theory and research (2019), which is updated periodically to present new work in the major sectors of the field. The purpose of this book, within the goals of this series, is to present an accessible and concise account of the field, anchored by a unifying construct that links subfields that don’t often talk to each other.
To create this construct, we focus mainly on media effects through the lens of narrative. As we will see, an important aspect of narrative is the selection of what will be presented, along with the many things that will not be included within the narrative. In this book, some things have been given short shrift along the way, including once-contemplated chapters focusing solely on sex/gender and politics. We can return to those at a later time. There has also been a larger-than-originally-intended focus on work from my own areas of interest (cultivation and cultural indicators), perhaps inevitably as I structure the media effects narrative from my own experience. As any author discovers, though, you end up writing what you can write, a realization that becomes a useful addition to the admonition to “write what you know.”
Ultimately, this book is my own idiosyncratic storyline through the field of media effects. It won’t replace any of the standard texts, but I do hope that it will leave clues for some as to new avenues that can be pursued, or even help generate new attitudes and states of mind that can be fruitful for new groups of scholars that are examining these now age-old questions about media, even as we move into confusing new media environments.
Acknowledgments
This book was written in between other things. All of it has been done while I have been Dean at the Media School at Indiana University. Having such a wonderful staff at the Media School means that it has been possible to find some time between the “other things” to write. I should especially mention only a few individuals, at the expense of excluding others, who have been such valuable colleagues: Betsi Grabe, a wonderful associate dean and fantastic media scholar; Scott Feickert, who runs the Media School admirably; Patsy Ek, who is a financial whiz; and Emily Harrison, who generates the money we need to run the School. My thanks also to Walt Gantz. BJ Ferrand is the best. All of our staff and many colleagues at the Media School can take some credit, though none of the responsibility, for the book.
A lot of the book was written during a stretch in Old Forge, NY, a fine and hospitable Adirondack community. The Old Forge Library, and its director Linda Weal, provided a wonderful environment for writing. Ron Rakowski was a gracious host, and his neighbor Paul McKinney also made it a friendly place to stay for writing and other “activities.” To the Farmers of Old Forge, a fond tip of the hat.
The very last parts of the book were written in Maine, at an undisclosed location. The Wappler family, too close to be called a second family, were gracious hosts in providing a place of constant welcome and return. I hope the book reflects some of the stimulating conversations that have been held at the Lodge over the last 40+ years. Thanks and love to Reinhold, Peter, Barbara, Shel (RIP), Will, Sam, Ivy, Sarah, Cary, Ella, Aurora, Hazy, Amy, Jane (RIP), Sarah Ivy, and Karen.
It’s important to mention two colleagues. Michael Morgan was a wonderful doctoral adviser, and continues to be my best collaborator. It’s better to say that I collaborate with him, since he generates so many (most really) of the important ideas that we work with. Also, I must mention Nancy Signorielli, a key figure not just in media effects but also in the advancement of women in academia. She is a terrific and generous collaborator.
To the #1 Family in Central New York and Southern Indiana – Lisa and Isabel: Heehee and Continued Best Wishes! To Mom, Jeannette, Casey, Luke, Steve, Bob, Laury, Nora, and Mason: thank you all! You’re a great family.
Chapter 1 Introduction
A quick story. In the 1960s, as a child, I was allowed to roam freely around the small city we lived in. My sister and I had bikes, and we could ride them where we chose, with the proviso that we would be back by dinnertime. This was not unusual; all of our friends operated under the same rules. The child-rearing culture of that time allowed parents a great deal of leeway in terms of how much freedom their children should have; children were encouraged to be independent.
In the 1990s, we raised our own daughter differently. If we had let her roam freely around our own small city, at the very same age that I and my sister had done so, our parenting practices would have been seen as irresponsible, and possibly also illegal. Small children were simply not allowed to be left alone; their experiences became much more structured and guided. “Play dates” rather than unsupervised playground interaction became the norm, and an increase in the number of scheduled and programmed activities for children also became more noticeable. The idea of children left to their own devices was no longer acceptable.
In the 30-year interval described above, what happened? One would be tempted to assume that the world had become a more dangerous place in the 1990s, and that parents were reacting protectively to these dangers. However, the facts were that crime rates in the 1960s were not that much different than they were in the 1990s.1 Objectively speaking, children were about as safe from danger in either period.
Many people I have spoken with – who now raise their children in the same protective way we did – express surprise that crime is not worse now than it was 30 years ago. When confronted with the example I describe above, the explanation people usually arrive at, pretty quickly, is that maybe we perceive the world to be more violent than it really is. And once they self-highlight the issue of perception, people then start to think about sources of perceptions. Why do we think this way? In coming around to these thoughts, people often think about the variety of ways in which crime is reported to us, and especially we remember the very awful examples where children have been abducted or killed.
In 1981, 6-year-old Adam Walsh was kidnaped from a store; his body was found several days later. As it took years for his case to be solved, his father John Walsh became an activist for heightening awareness of crimes against children. He started the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, and also later hosted a television show called America’s Most Wanted. The show was a national sensation, and while it focused not only on child crime, the awareness, and fear, that it created was high. The show came at a time when the power of television to cover crime was increasing, with more cable channels available and the development of a 24-hour news cycle that emphasized sensational and disturbing events as ways to attract ratings attention. In this environment, a national panic over missing children developed (Waxman, 2016).
Of course, any missing or exploited child is a horrible tragedy, but the numbers that were used to generate public fear and concern during this time were far out of line. “The missing children issue subsists
