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Compounding
Folly Nothing gives my views on journalism greater credibility than to have the University of Oregon dean of journalism and his retired predecessor twist in the wind as they take issue with them. Both Dean Tim Gleason and former Dean Arnold Ismach have earned deserved respect in education. That's why their comments about public relations can be so dangerous. It all started when Eugene Weekly stated (Slant, 7/14) what I had been writing for several years: It is folly for schools of journalism to teach public relations as if it were part of journalism. Long personal experience taught me the distinction between them. Though I had a degree in journalism, I squandered that training by spending much of my professional life as a PR man on behalf of college athletics. So I have a frame of reference that may give credence to what I say. My occasional PR lies about sports were petty. It's not petty when your government hires a public relations firm to confuse us about its image, as corporations and politicians long have done. That hit close to home with word the UO School of Journalism was starting what it described as a journalism program at the university's Portland Center. Trouble is, it is a class in public relations, not journalism. Suggesting PR has anything to do with journalism is like the government line that Saddam Hussein collaborated with Osama bin Laden in the 9/11 attacks. It is disturbing when those entrusted with developing journalists make synonymous two disciplines whose goals are antithetical. Gleason defends the indefensible in his letter (7/28), claiming PR in a journalism school is part of "a clear statement of our commitment to journalism." He further misleads by calling PR "communication management," then claiming PR in Portland sets the stage for a "much broader vision" of journalism. The hypocrisy is not his alone. It is shared with most journalism deans nationally. They spread the misconception because of funding problems that are eased by enrolling many students more interested in PR's higher pay than journalism's ethics. Ismach told me some time ago, as he wrote in his published letter, that mixing PR and journalism students gives the former a greater appreciation for ethics. Hardly. Journalism students instead see where corners can be cut in ethics, a tactic pursued by their educators. Most journalists define their profession as getting facts on matters of public concern and presenting them with honesty. Public relations by contrast operates on behalf of a client, mixing facts and fiction selectively to paint as attractive an image as possible. The very name of the educational program reflects an identity crisis. Most schools now are listed as School of Journalism & Communications. How very sly. Just add a word to the name, and you justify being able to lump public relations, advertising, promotions, et al with journalism. Significant journalists have reinforced my contention. The late Fred Friendly, who was a valued assistant to Edward R. Murrow decades ago, told me "It is a tragedy journalism education has any connection with public relations." NPR's Daniel Schorr told me the same thing. Ken Bode, a recent dean at my alma mater, Northwestern, said: "I agree with you. But I'm too new here to begin rocking the boat in such a fundamental way." The identity problem will persist so long as our public funding for education falls short, and journalism educators choose to use naming solutions for larger problems. That choice keeps journalism headed down a slope to meaningless identity. The UO could start a corrective effort by choosing to teach journalism, not public relations, at its Portland Center. All schools could help by following one of their basic guidelines, conciseness: Drop that unnecessary word, communications. George Beres of Eugene, a 1955 graduate of Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism, hosts "In the Public Interest" on Community TV.
Let
Them Eat Peas Mainstream people dislike homosexuality because they can't help concentrating on what homosexual men do to one another. And when you contemplate what people do, you think of yourself doing it. ... That's the famous joke "I don't like peas, and I'm glad I don't like them, because if I liked them, I would eat them, and I hate them." — Quentin Crisp Announcer: Good morning. Bea Zeaboddy here on location for KNO-TV news. Despite stifling summer heat, America's passionate debate over our most pressing issue rages on. To deepen our understanding of the nation's most consuming controversy, today's special live report brings us directly into the private living room of an average American family. We join the Joneses via secret camera. Dad: No son of mine is going to be a pea-eater. It's disgusting. Unnatural. If God had meant us to eat peas there would have been peas in the Garden of Eden. Mom: Show me where the Bible says anything about pea-eating as we know it today. They didn't even have peas then, it was a totally different thing. Dad: Eve gave Adam an apple, not a pea. Scripture talks a lot about what to eat and never once mentions peas. Like our pastor says, eating peas is an abomination. Mom: Some people are born liking peas. Dad: Bull. Nobody's born that way. It's a choice, pure and simple. Mom: Why would anyone choose to be a pea-eater? Nobody wants to be hated and discriminated against. Clearly it's a genetic predisposition. Dad: I've seen on TV where lots of people were cured of their condition and now they hate peas just like everybody else. Mom: Not exactly everybody. As many as 10 percent of the population likes peas. No matter how much aversion therapy, a pea-lover will pretty much always be a pea-lover. Dad: But why do they have to flaunt it and shove it down everyone's throat? They can do it in the privacy of their own dining rooms, but nobody wants to see pea-eating in public. And they for damned sure shouldn't have any special rights. Mom: That would be civil rights, dear. May I remind you that pea-eaters work and pay taxes just like everybody else. Pea-eaters have equal rights in Belgium, The Netherlands, Spain, Canada and Massachusetts, and it doesn't seem to be causing any problems there. Why, a couple of the women in my church group are pea-eaters and they're very nice. Dad: Well you're not inviting them over here. They'll influence our kids. Pea-eaters can't reproduce, so they have to recruit. Mom: According to scientists, you're pretty much either a pea-eater or you're not. You can't really influence someone. Dad: Like hell. If you hadn't been so loosey goosey with our kid he'd never have tried peas in the first place. Mom: But don't you see, even with pea-hating parents like us, children develop according to their innate proclivity. Dad: What a load of liberal crap. A little shock therapy would snap him out of that pea-eating lifestyle. Mom: It's not a lifestyle, dear, it's who he is. Dad: Whatever. Pea-loving is abnormal and perverse. It's eating away at the root of American values. It's a sickness. Mom: Actually, the American Dietary Association says there's nothing wrong with pea-ism any more. They took it off the list of sickening eating habits way back in 1973. Pea-loving is just part of nature. Back in college I even ate peas a few times myself. Dad: Madge! Mom: Yes, I did. And I actually liked them. I'm sorry I've kept it secret all these years. Dad: That was just a crazy fad. Thank God you grew out of it. Kind of sexy though, heh heh. Mom: Walter! Announcer: And so we leave the Joneses — and normal families all across this great pea-hating nation of ours — to determine the fate of millions of pea-eating Americans. Tune in tomorrow as we poke our nose into another facet of this intense private family argument: peas in the military. For KNO-TV news, I'm Bea Zeaboddy, on location in America. Eugene writer Sally Sheklow loves peas. Comments welcome at sally@wymprov.com
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