Monopoly is perhaps the most infamous, if not the only, socialist board game corrupted by capitalism. As society has changed in the more than one hundred years since Monopoly’s inception, our favourite home-wrecker has evolved alongside it. One of the more recent editions is entitled Monopoly Empire, where instead of building up a portfolio of properties and driving up affordability costs – not unlike property investors today – you spend money creating an empire of brands, effectively monopolising modern media and pop culture. Now I wouldn’t say that the boardgame resembles anything like a Picasso, but perhaps it might be appropriate to insert an “art imitating life” quote somewhere here.
The media we consume every day of our lives, whether it be news or mermaid movies, has gradually become monopolised by a small handful of business moguls, which might be cause for more immediate concern given the rising popularity of nationalism and “fake news” if it weren’t offset by the ever increasing accessibility of the internet and all the perks that come with it.
While Murdoch and his magnate mates tighten their grip on the legacy media, produsers and their chosen software platforms open up the doors those monopolizers may try to close. In days gone by, a dominating ideology with its teeth sunk firmly into the neck of free speech saw the rise of dictatorships that still cast a shadow over our society today. But with the indomitable force of the internet, tyrannical tycoons and corrupt politicians are finding it more and more difficult to enforce broken systems on the backs of lower classes to keep them in their golden penthouses.
Never before has legacy media felt so threatened by the public. In an effort to survive the Titanic that is their method of operations, parent companies like Fairfax and TimeWarner have been forced to create a clear divide between honest journalism and sensationalist, “alternative facts”. Independent news organisations and diligent fact-checkers provide a direct line to the truth some powerful people wish to keep from us. One day, their time in the spotlight will end and a new generation of leaders will take its place. Hopefully, they can learn the tricks some old dogs could not.
Everybody enjoys a good paradox. They exercise our brains, provide challenging philosophical discussion, and serve as a backup weapon in the war against artificial intelligence. When Marshall McLuhan wrote “The medium is the message” he had the whole world of communications scratching its head. Surely the messenger cannot also be the message? Well, according to Leonidas, the medium through which we communicate our ideas is equally, if not more important, than the ideas themselves.
McLuhan argued that anything we consider an extension of ourselves is both a medium through which we communicate as well as an idea we are communicating. A great example of this is the rising popularity of merchandise, such as coffee mugs and t-shirts, which bear a sarcastic phrase or a well-known text abbreviation, like “wtf.”
What McLuhan might have been trying to get across in his book that was supposed to be entitled “The Medium Is The Message” is that how we express ourselves is more important than what we want to say. Our sense of fashion, the colour we paint our house, how our cutlery is designed, can all send a stronger message about who we are as people than what we as individuals say. Alternatively, the messages in our media could be a preemption of a phenomenon known as the Ganzfeld effect, namely, our brain’s programming to find patterns within our surroundings, even when there is no information for our brains to process. Could it be that using a medium as a message is simply our base instinct to create and recognise patterns urging us to dig deeper and deeper into our constructed society?
People have been interpreting signs ever since the weekend sport was playing tag with a giant saber-toothed cat and the prize was survival. Since then, we have given a name to the practice of looking at things and thinking what they could mean and what they do mean. Semiotics can be invaluable when trying to get a certain message across to an audience of any size. Take this image:
What is represented in this image is a devil sitting in the tree growing out of the head of a boy who is buried underground. The connotations of this image aren’t quite as easy to ascertain. This image may have been designed to add credence to one side of the “nature versus nurture” debate. It might have been created to underline a point about the corruptibility of innocence, or that sinful thinking will yield no fruit. This image was actually created by artist David Gothard for an article in Utne Reader, entitled “Criminal Minds”, which spoke about predicting violent behaviour in people from an early age using brain scans. What this can tell us about interpreting art is that without context, you might struggle to understand what the artist is trying to convey.
But does it really matter what message an artist is trying to deliver to the wider world? If it isn’t obvious to an audience, then why bother making it in the first place? Why should we, the audience, bear the responsibility of interpretation?
Because art is personal.
Art belongs as much to the public as it does the artist. Street signs, graffiti, doodles on the back of a notepad can all be interpreted in different ways. All of them can be called art. Without context, a region specific hazard sign could mean one of many things depending on how you see it and in what circumstances. Semiotics, in theory, is as easy as a flow chart, but when applied practically, it can get to be quite semantic.
Ever since our society has had access to individual forms of media, from our own copy of the Bible to the smart phone in our pocket, we have treated it as the guiding light to which we look for answers. And from the very beginning, the establishments who mandated public access to the media foresaw a change in the balance of power that would inevitably put them at a disadvantage. So began the long standing conflict between the static establishments of power and the evolving body of the media.
Though individually we can identify our own measure of dependence on current media, often times the media itself, and the agendas behind it, will try to convince its audience that it is simultaneously passive and easily persuaded, and that it has a duty to monitor ‘at risk’ minorities, often children and adolescents, as they consume whatever flavour of dangerous content is targeted that month. In recognising that providing information alone is not enough to create a dependence or need for engagement with a media outlet, the people with agendas who control or seek to control the flow of information will provide its audience with a motive behind the information, often times creating an enemy where none exists. A recent example of this is the controversy between the Wall St Journal and Youtuber Felix Kjellburg.
This conflict between the old and new faces of the media has highlighted a prevalent issue embedded in our society; the manipulation of the media by the empowered to sway what they perceive as the weak mined crowd. The construction of monopolies, democratically elected politicians slandering honest journalism and the endless onslaught of advertising and guilt tripping has created a divide between the established systems of information delivery and its wide and varied audience. Never has this issue been so prevalent as it has today, and seems to be a regular feature of televised news and Twitter feeds alike.
Aside from what journalists already report on in these stories about how we are influenced by ‘fake news’ and pop culture, there is very little information looping back to media outlets about what their audience is responding and subscribing to. Audience studies can only convey information about who is watching or reading what and when. There is no empirical indication of political or religious belief, only the assumptions that can be drawn from that information. This in turn prompts responses from the media outlets to create content they feel will draw attention to them and subsequently their contracted advertisers.
Ultimately the choice to consume and what we consume is down to us, not the media.
When at the pub with an underage friend, don’t mention it on SnapChat if the bartender follows you.
Of all the things I’ve learned in my convergent media studies class, nothing has been repeated so prolifically as #FEFO: Fail Early, Fail Often. Failing to create a digital artefact is as guaranteed as the eventuality of someone being offended on Tumblr, or so I’m led to believe. With that in mind, it seems the best way to ensure I get the pain of failure out of the way is to act counter-intuitively to the average student and deliberately create something guaranteed to fail. In doing this, I will either fail as expected and build upon that to create something that hopefully won’t fail (but probably will) or create something so spectacular it becomes the hottest thing on Broadway, a la Gene Wilder. As of yet, I haven’t actually thought of anything terrible enough to fit that brief, but I did come up with some actually okay ideas:
- A cooking show for destitute students living on campus
- A podcast that mocks literally anything. Seriously, hardcore political types, the way a duck walks, my inability to do math. Nothing is sacred to me.
- Broadchurch memes. Because somebody has to appreciate David Tennant being grumpy and Scottish
- Exploiting technical loopholes in the legal system to do reckless and cool looking things. This is a ‘break glass in case of emergency’ type of idea.
I suppose the only thing that I can think of that’s guaranteed to fail is just five minutes of white noise posted weekly. But even that might gain traction if some annoying twelve year old finds it. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.
This is my first blog, and it only exists as part of my uni degree in media studies. Until now, I had no interest in having any notable presence online, and was well inclined to leave as small a digital footprint as possible. Putting my paranoia aside, this blog will be updated regularly with content I create and find as I mindlessly browse the internet trying to kill time on a Saturday afternoon.