In the continuing saga of the death of old media and the birth of new media, Satyajit Das nails the point right home. As the world transitions from the misleading and the often agendized (?) main-stream media, the shake out of trust worthy blogs and alternative sources of real-time information continues on. One of the things that lead us here at CC to operate this blog was the willingness of readers we seek to expose ourselves to make it a point to check facts. Another sweet aspect is that we, the bloggers, have the ability to link the sources of our claims right into our writing, something no other medium offers. That is why, as people transition. blogs like CC hope to plant themselves among the trusted sources of perception and information. So long as we avoid the sensationalism so often deployed by TV, we have a shot at taking back control of truth, perception, and reality.
Below is an edited extract from Satyajit Das (2011) Extreme Money:Masters of the Universe and the Cult of Risk. The material is taken from "Chapter 6: Money Honey." (emphasis added)
Financial TV
is pornography—sleazy, intrusive, seeking to titillate, and shock. During a
crisis, these programs can be compulsive. Once, pornographic scripts had a
passing interest in improbable plot and implausible dialogue. In the Coen
brothers’ film The Big Lebowski, Jackie Treehorn bemoans falling standards in
adult entertainment. Competition from cheap amateur pornographic films means
that professionals can no longer afford the extra investment in story,
production value, and feeling. Financial TV never bothered with plot, dialogue,
or production values, focusing only on the action.
The 24/7
Joycean stream-of-consciousness financial noise machine calls for successive,
rolling segments—pre-market, market, post-market, recapping today’s market and,
finally, looking forward to tomorrow’s market. The formula requires an anchor
or two. The only part of Louis
Rukeyser’s legacy that survives is the fashion sense. Rukeyser (the permanently
tanned, urbane, award-winning presenter of Wall Street Week, one of the
original TV shows on money) was voted the best-dressed man in finance and America’s most
sartorially elegant TV host. Playboy
magazine described him as a “rakish raconteur.” Today’s TV hosts are well
dressed, impeccably groomed, and perfectly coiffed.
Rudimentary
sets create the illusion of overlooking a frenetic exchange or a city panorama,
made possible by computer imagery. The occasional outside shot on the steps of
a stock exchange or outside some monumental bank headquarters interrupts the
visual monotony.
The fare is
constant financial news and interviews with in-house (paid) and outside
(unpaid) experts. A ticker-stream of breaking stories and market information
scrolls along the peripheries of the screen. Graphs and various visuals assault
the senses. The soundtrack is a series of video game noises, typically when the
screen changes. The amphetamine-charged pace features interviewers and guests
repeatedly interrupting and constantly talking over each other. Presenters take
the title of CNBC’s signature show—Squawk Box—literally.
The editorial
approach requires drama:
Human beings have an innate desire to be told and to tell dramatic stories…. I am at a loss to name a single operatic work that treats coronary artery disease as its subject but I can name several where murder, incest, and assassination play a key part in the story. This is money, Jerry Springer or Howard Stern shock-jock style.
Speedy
Money
Through the
day, a succession of guests is interviewed on the topic of the moment—news,
just released statistics, government policy announcements, or the latest good
or bad news. TV follows its print rival: “If it bleeds, it leads!” The aim is
to shed light on the impact of the news on the market.
But as Donald
Rumsfeld astutely observed:
“The problem is that people think that news is something that is announced before it happens, as opposed to something that is reported when it does happen.” Each interview is about 5 to 10 minutes—only divine beings get longer. Presenters are unlikely “to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary” (to use William Faulkner’s observation about Ernest Hemingway).
Sensible
interviewees offer equivocal opinions to preserve plausible deniability.
Rumsfeld once masterfully set out the mechanisms of evasion: “I’m working my
way over to figuring out how I won’t answer.” The alternative is former U.S.
Vice-President Dan Quayle’s formula: “I believe we are on an irreversible trend
toward more freedom and democracy—but that could change.”
There are
experts who do not know: “I was born not knowing and have had only a little
time to change that here and there.” There are those who have theories: “If the
facts don’t fit the theory, change the facts.” There are the fanatics: “one who
can’t change his mind and won’t change the subject.” Then there are
politicians, like Sarah Palin, a former governor of Alaska and vice-presidential candidate:
“Well, let’s see. There’s—of course— in the great history of America
rulings, there have been rulings.”
In 1891 W.J.
Stillman, writing in the Atlantic Monthly, commented about the effects of an
earlier technological innovation—the telegraph—on journalistic standards:
[It has] transformed journalism from what it once was, the periodical expression of the thought of the time, the opportune record of the questions and answers of contemporary life, into an agency for collecting, condensing and assimilating the trivialities of the entire human existence…. The frantic haste with which we bolt everything we take, seconded by the eager wish of the journalist not to be a day behind his competitor, abolishes deliberation from judgment and sound digestion from our mental constitutions. We have no time to go below surfaces.
During the
global financial crisis, CNBC’s Power Lunch hosted a segment—“Turning the
corner”—with Dr. Doom, Nouriel Roubini, together with the former derivative
trader, financial philosopher, and best-selling author known variously as
Nassim Taleb, Nicholas Nassim Taleb, NNT, or simply the Black Swan (his
best-known work).
Bill
Griffeth, the interviewer, and his co-host Michelle Caruso-Cabrera, started off
upbeat: “What would it take to make you bearish on this economy right now?” Dr.
Doom summarized the position: “It’s ugly!” Dr. Doom’s prophecy that the current
recession was likely to be three times as long and three times as deep as
previous recent recessions did not please Griffeth: “But that’s not the end of
the world, is it?” The Black Swan was gloomy: “We have the same people in
charge, those who did not see the crisis coming.” The hosts tried in vain to
look for positive statements.
On live TV,
the more dubious a proposition or unreliable a fact, the greater the authority
and confidence with which it is stated. Constant repetition diminishes
skepticism. Rumors, suppositions, and half-baked statistics become believable
and ultimately accepted facts.
