I’ve been thinking lately about terminology. There are two cases in particular: One where a word’s meaning has adapted with the times and technology, and another where the same concept now has new terminology associated with it and that new terminology has resulted in redefining the concept itself.
“Transmit” as a word has been around for over 500 years, before the Internet, before computers or even typewriters. It simply means to send, to communicate or pass along. The specifics don’t really matter so much.
A couple of years ago, I spent a good part of the summer locked in (literally, they really lock you in) the special archives room of the Boston Athenaeum with the papers of Commander Hull. (The man saved a lot of paper, every scrap of paper he ever received.) The archives covered his glory days during the War of 1812 and throughout his naval career. Communications between Hull, when he was out at sea, and the Department of the Navy, in Washington, were all handwritten and sent by boat back and forth. New policies, reprimands, questions/answers, whatever—communications that today would take seconds took about three months. These communications were referred to as being transmitted.
Whether by boat, telex, or e-mail, sending messages is a natural thing; I think that’s why the word just flowed along with the times. How the message is sent has changed radically, to be sure. The technology and timing is now different, but the basic need remains the same—to communicate, to convey information from sender to receiver and sometimes back again. To make a connection. And so we transmitted then as we transmit now.
In contrast, look at what’s happened to the stuff of what we read—specifically the news. There is a sense of chaos lately with journalism; the cry has been made that print is dead. (These cries are often premature—God isn’t dead either, although some may argue that he has left the building.) Newspapers are becoming passé and magazines are folding by the minute. Online is where it’s at, baby. There is a wealth of information to be found there and we are seduced with the immediacy and instant gratification—validity and substance don’t matter too much. Even once well-respected writers who wouldn’t dream of putting their byline on something inaccurate are falling under the spell. It’s become the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am of journalism. Post it quickly and move on to the next liaison, the next idea.
There seems to be a schism between “print” and “online,” and we can’t seem to make a meaningful relationship between the two. There is a lot of junk online, that seems to be the excuse to ignore what’s good. But there’s a lot of junk out there in the print world as well, and we seem to be able to tell the difference. Maybe it’s just a matter of waiting for the dust to settle. Maybe it’s all in a name.
Print journalism has become so closely aligned as a term that doesn’t fit with the Internet—along with the press and newspapers—that the basic concept has come to mean something else when it’s online. Anything online is now called “content.” Granted, the word “content” itself has been around for awhile, but using it to describe what’s online changes how we look at what we read. And that changes our expectation and demands on it. Websites, whether the New York Times or X17 are all “content providers.”
We say print is dead, but we don’t really mean it. We’re just confused. I hope. The options are overwhelming and so we’ve simplified it by limiting the terminology. Why hasn’t “print” survived as “transmit” has? Unfortunately, unlike transmit an action, “print” or the “press,” even the word “newspaper” are intrinsically tied to a very concrete thing—the printing press, paper and ink. There is a very tactile association. “Press” has made somewhat of a transition to computers, newspapers and books are now printed using digital presses, but even though this makes sense, the terminology hasn’t migrated over to the Internet. That is unfortunate, because the new terminology to describe what’s online, whether journalism or junk or anything in between, adds to the confusion and denigrates the whole field, because now, if it’s online, it’s content.
The terminology is keeping the schism intact and distracting from a more comprehensive discussion, and ultimately appreciation for, the vast field of media. Rather than bemoaning the state of print journalism in light of the new online media, the distinction between the two should be irrelevant. The skills are different, sure, but the basics are the same. The two would have a meaningful relationship and we could focus on shaking out the good from the bad in an all-encompassing marketplace of ideas if we could just figure out the terminology.
“Transmit” as a word has been around for over 500 years, before the Internet, before computers or even typewriters. It simply means to send, to communicate or pass along. The specifics don’t really matter so much.
A couple of years ago, I spent a good part of the summer locked in (literally, they really lock you in) the special archives room of the Boston Athenaeum with the papers of Commander Hull. (The man saved a lot of paper, every scrap of paper he ever received.) The archives covered his glory days during the War of 1812 and throughout his naval career. Communications between Hull, when he was out at sea, and the Department of the Navy, in Washington, were all handwritten and sent by boat back and forth. New policies, reprimands, questions/answers, whatever—communications that today would take seconds took about three months. These communications were referred to as being transmitted.
Whether by boat, telex, or e-mail, sending messages is a natural thing; I think that’s why the word just flowed along with the times. How the message is sent has changed radically, to be sure. The technology and timing is now different, but the basic need remains the same—to communicate, to convey information from sender to receiver and sometimes back again. To make a connection. And so we transmitted then as we transmit now.
In contrast, look at what’s happened to the stuff of what we read—specifically the news. There is a sense of chaos lately with journalism; the cry has been made that print is dead. (These cries are often premature—God isn’t dead either, although some may argue that he has left the building.) Newspapers are becoming passé and magazines are folding by the minute. Online is where it’s at, baby. There is a wealth of information to be found there and we are seduced with the immediacy and instant gratification—validity and substance don’t matter too much. Even once well-respected writers who wouldn’t dream of putting their byline on something inaccurate are falling under the spell. It’s become the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am of journalism. Post it quickly and move on to the next liaison, the next idea.
There seems to be a schism between “print” and “online,” and we can’t seem to make a meaningful relationship between the two. There is a lot of junk online, that seems to be the excuse to ignore what’s good. But there’s a lot of junk out there in the print world as well, and we seem to be able to tell the difference. Maybe it’s just a matter of waiting for the dust to settle. Maybe it’s all in a name.
Print journalism has become so closely aligned as a term that doesn’t fit with the Internet—along with the press and newspapers—that the basic concept has come to mean something else when it’s online. Anything online is now called “content.” Granted, the word “content” itself has been around for awhile, but using it to describe what’s online changes how we look at what we read. And that changes our expectation and demands on it. Websites, whether the New York Times or X17 are all “content providers.”
We say print is dead, but we don’t really mean it. We’re just confused. I hope. The options are overwhelming and so we’ve simplified it by limiting the terminology. Why hasn’t “print” survived as “transmit” has? Unfortunately, unlike transmit an action, “print” or the “press,” even the word “newspaper” are intrinsically tied to a very concrete thing—the printing press, paper and ink. There is a very tactile association. “Press” has made somewhat of a transition to computers, newspapers and books are now printed using digital presses, but even though this makes sense, the terminology hasn’t migrated over to the Internet. That is unfortunate, because the new terminology to describe what’s online, whether journalism or junk or anything in between, adds to the confusion and denigrates the whole field, because now, if it’s online, it’s content.
The terminology is keeping the schism intact and distracting from a more comprehensive discussion, and ultimately appreciation for, the vast field of media. Rather than bemoaning the state of print journalism in light of the new online media, the distinction between the two should be irrelevant. The skills are different, sure, but the basics are the same. The two would have a meaningful relationship and we could focus on shaking out the good from the bad in an all-encompassing marketplace of ideas if we could just figure out the terminology.
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