现代大学英语精读第二版（第六册）学习笔记（原文及全文翻译）——3 - What Is News?（新闻是什么？）

Unit 3 - What Is News?

What Is News?

Neil Postman and Steve Powers

All this talk about news—what is it? We turn to this question because unless a television viewer has considered it, he or she is in danger of too easily accepting someone else's definition—for example, a definition supplied by the news director of a television station; or even worse, a definition imposed by important advertisers. The question, in any case, is not a simple one, and it is even possible that many journalists and advertisers have not thought deeply about it.

A simplistic definition of news can be drawn by paraphrasing Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes' famous definition of the law. The law, Holmes said, is what the courts say it is. Nothing more. Nothing less. In similar fashion, we might say that the news is what television directors and journalists say it is. In other words, when you turn on your television set to watch a network or local news show, whatever is on is, by definition, the news. But if we were to take that approach, on what basis would we say that we haven't been told enough? Or that a story that should have been covered wasn't? Or that too many stories of a certain type were included? Or that a reporter gave a flagrantly biased account?

If objections of this kind are raised, then we must have some conception of the news that the news show has not fulfilled. Most people, in fact, do have such a conception, although they are not always fully conscious of what it is. When people are asked "what is the news?" the most frequent answer given is "what happened that day?" This is a rather silly answer since even those who give it can easily be made to see that an uncountable number of things happen during the course of a day, including what you had for breakfast, which could hardly be classified as news by any definition: In modifying their answer, most will add that the news is "important and interesting things that happened that day." This helps a little but leaves open the question of what is "important and interesting" and how that is decided. Embedded somewhere in one's understanding of the phrase "important and interesting events" is one's definition of "the news".

Of course, some people will say that the question of what is important and interesting is not in the least problematic. What the President says or does is important; wars are important, rebellions, employment figures, elections, appointments to the Supreme Court. Really? We doubt that even the President believes everything he says is important. (Let us take, for example, President Bush's remark that he doesn't like broccoli.) There are, as we write, more than forty wars and rebellions going on somewhere in the world. Not even The New York Times, which claims to be the "newspaper of public record," reports on all of them, or even most. Are elections important? Maybe. But we doubt you'd be interested in the election in Iowa's Third Congressional District—unless you happen to live there. Some readers will remember the famous comedy routine of the 2,000-Year-Old Man who was discovered in the imagination of Carl Reiner and Mel Brooks. Upon being asked what he believed to be the greatest invention of humankind during his life span, the 2,000-Year-Old Man replied unhesitatingly, "Saran Wrap." Now, there is a great deal to be said for Saran Wrap. We suspect that in the long run it may prove more useful to the well-being of most of us than a number of inventions that are daily given widespread publicity in the news media. Yet it is fair to say that no one except its manufacturer knows the date of Saran Wrap's invention, or even cares much to know. Saran Wrap is not news. The color of Liz Taylor's wrap is. Or so some people believe.

On the day Marilytt Monroe committed suicide, so did many other people, some of whose reasons may have been as engrossing as, and perhaps more significant than, Miss Monroe's. But we shall never know about these people or their reasons; the journalists at CBS or NBC or The New York Times simply took no notice of them. Several people, we are sure, also committed suicide on the very day in 1991 when the New York Giants won the Super Bowl. We I shall never learn about these people either, however instructive or interesting their stories may have been.

What we are driving at is this: "Importance is a judgment people make. " Of course, there are some events—the assassination of a president, an earthquake, etc.-that have near universal interest and consequences. But most news does not inhere in the event. An event becomes news. And it becomes news because it is selected for notice out of the buzzing, booming confusion around us. This may seem a fairly obvious point but keep in mind that many people believe that the news is always out there, waiting to be gathered or collected. In fact, the news is more often made rather than I gathered. And it is made on the basis of what the journalist thinks is important or what the journalist thinks the audience thinks is important or interesting. It can get pretty complicated. Is a story about a killing in Northern Ireland more important than one about a killing in Morocco? The journalist might not think so, but the audience might.

Which story will become the news? And once selected what point of view and details are to be included? After all, once a journalist has chosen an event to be news, he or she must also choose what is worth seeing, what is worth neglecting, and what is worth remembering or forgetting. This is simply another way of saying that every news story is a reflection of the reporter who tells the story. The reporters’ previous assumptions about what is "out there" edit what he or she thinks is there. For example, many journalists believe that what is called "the Intifada" is newsworthy. Let us suppose that a fourteen-year-old Palestinian boy hurls a Molotov cocktail at two eighteen-year-old Israeli soldiers. The explosion knocks one of the soldiers down and damages his left eye. The other soldier, terrified, fires a shot at the Palestinian that kills him instantly. The injured soldier eventually loses the sight of his eye. What details should be included in reporting this event? Is the age of the Palestinian relevant? Are the ages of the Israeli soldiers relevant? Is the injury to the soldier relevant? Was the act of the Palestinian provoked by the mere presence of Israeli soldiers? Was the act therefore justified? Is the shooting justified? Is the state of mind of the shooter relevant?

The answers to all of these questions, as well as to other questions about the event, depend entirely on the point of view of the journalist. You might think this is an exaggeration, that reporters, irrespective of their assumptions, can at least get the facts straight. But what are "facts"? In A.J.Liebling's book Press, he gives a classic example of the problematic nature of "facts." On the same day, some years ago, both The Wall Street Journal and the now-defunct World Telegram and Sun featured a story about the streets of Moscow. Here is what The Wall Street Journal reporter wrote:

The streets of central Moscow are, as the guidebooks say, clean and neat; so is the famed subway. They are so because of an army of women with brooms, pans, and carts who thus earn their 35 rubles a month in lieu of "relief"; in all Moscow we never saw a mechanical street-sweeper.

Here is what the World Telegram and reporter wrote:

Four years ago (in Moscow) women by the hundreds swept big city streets. Now you rarely see more than a dozen. The streets are kept clean with giant brushing and sprinkling machines.

Well, which is it? Can a dozen women look like an army? Are there giant machines cleaning the streets of Moscow or are there not? How can two trained journalists see events so differently? Well, one of them worked for The Wall Street Journal, and when these stories were written, it was the policy of the Journal to highlight the contrast between the primitive Russian economy and the sophisticated American economy. (It still is.) Does this mean the reporter for the Journal was lying? We doubt it. Each of our senses is a remarkably astute censor. We see what we expect to see; often, we focus on what we are paid to see. And those who pay us to see usually accept their notions not only of what is important but of what are details.

That fact poses some difficult problems for those of us trying to make sense of the news we are given. One of these problems is indicated by a proposal, made years ago, by the great French writer Albert Camus. Camus wished to establish "a control newspaper." The newspaper would come out one hour after all the others and would contain estimates of the percentage of truth in each of their stories. In Camus' words: "We'd have complete dossiers on the interests, policies, and idiosyncrasies of the owners. Then we'd have a dossier on every journalist in the world. The interests, prejudices, and quirks of the owner would equal Z. The prejudices, quirks, and private interests of the journalist Y. Z times Y would give you X, the probable amount of truth in the story."

Camus was either a reckless mathematician or else he simply neglected to say why and how multiplying Z and Y would tell us what we need to know. (Why not add or divide them?) Nor did he discuss the problem of how to estimate the reliability of those doing the estimating. In any case, Camus died before he had a chance to publish such a newspaper, leaving each one of us to be our own "control center." Nonetheless, we can't help thinking how Camus' idea might be applied to television. Imagine how informative it would be if there were five-minute television programs that went on immediately after each television news show. The host might say something like this: "To begin with, this station is owned by Gary Farnsworth, who is also the president of Bontel Limited, the principal stockholder of which is the Sultan of Bahrain. Bontel Limited owns three Japanese electronic companies, two oil companies, the entire country of Upper Volta, and the western part of Romania. The anchorman on the television show earns $800,000 a year; his portfolio includes holdings in a major computer firm. He has a bachelor's degree in journalism from the University of Arkansas but was a C+ student, has never taken a course in political science, and speaks no language other than English. Last year, he read only two books—a biography of Cary Grant and a book of popular psychology called "Why Am I So Wonderful"? The reporter who covered the story on Yugoslavia speaks Serbo-Croatian, has a degree in international relations, and has had a Neiman Fellowship at Harvard University."

We think this kind of information would be helpful to a viewer although not for the same reason Camus did. Such information would not give an estimate of the "truth probability" of stories but it would suggest possible patterns of influence reflected in the news. After all, what is important to a person whose boss owns several oil companies might not be important to a person who doesn’t even have a boss, who is unemployed. Similarly, what a reporter who does not know the language of the people he or she reports on can see and understand will probably be different from the perceptions of another reporter who knows the language well.

What we are saying is that to answer the question "What is news?" a viewer must know something about the political beliefs and economic situation of those who provide the news. The viewer is then in a position to know why certain events are considered important by those in charge of television news and may compare those judgments with his or her own.

But here's another problem. As we have implied, even oil magnates and poorly prepared journalists do not consult, exclusively, their own interests in selecting the "truths" they will tell. Since they want people to watch their shows, they also try to determine what audiences think is important and interesting. There is, in fact, a point of view that argues against journalists imposing their own sense of significance on an audience. In this view, television news should consist only of those events that would interest the audience. The journalists must keep their own opinions to themselves. The response to this is that many viewers depend on journalists to advise them of what is important. Besides, even if journalists were mere followers of public interest, not all members of the audience agree on what they wish to know. For example, we do not happen to think that Liz Taylor's adventures in marriage were or are of any importance whatsoever to anyone but her and Michael Wilding, Nicky Hilton, Mike Todd, Eddie Fisher, Richard Burton, John Warner, Larry Fortensky, and, of course, Debbie Reynolds and Sybil Burton. Obviously, most people don't agree, which is why an announcement of her intention to marry again is featured on every television news show. What's our point? A viewer must not only know what he or she thinks is significant but what others believe is significant as well.

It is a matter to be seriously considered. You may conclude, for example, that other people do not have a profound conception of what is significant. You may even be contemptuous of the taste or interests of others. On the other hand, you may fully share the sense of significance held by a majority of people. It is not our purpose here to instruct you or anyone else in is to be regarded as a significant event. We are saying that in considering the question "What is news?" a viewer must always take into account his or her relationship to a larger audience. Television is a mass medium, which means that a television news show is not intended for you alone. It is public communication, and the viewer needs to have some knowledge and opinions about "the public." It is a common complaint of individuals that television news rarely includes stories about some special interest. We know a man, for example, who emigrated from Switzerland thirty years ago. He is an American citizen but retains a lively interest in his native land. "Why," he asked us, "are there never any stories about Switzerland?" "Because," we had to reply, "no one but you and a few others have any interest in Switzerland." "That's too bad," he replied, "Switzerland is an interesting country." We agree. But most Americans have not been in Switzerland, probably believe not much happens in Switzerland, do not have many relatives in Switzerland, and would much rather know about some English lord has to say about the world's economy than what a Swiss banker thinks. Maybe they, are right, maybe not. Judging the public mind is always risky.

And this leads to another difficulty in answering the question "What is news?" Some might agree with us that Liz Taylor's adventures in marriage do not constitute significant events but that they ought to be included in a news show precisely for that reason. Her experiences, they may say, are amusing or diverting, certainly engrossing. In other words, the purpose of news should be to give people pleasure, at least to the extent that it takes their minds off their own troubles. We have heard people say that getting through the day is difficult enough, filled with tension, anxiety, and often disappointment. When they turn on the news, they want relief, not aggravation. It is also said that whether entertaining or not, stories about the lives of celebrities should be included because they are instructive; they reveal a great deal about our society—its mores, values, ideals.

Mark Twain once remarked that news is history in its first and best form. The American poet Ezra Pound added an interesting idea to that. He defined literature as news that stays news. Among other things, Pound meant that the stuff of literature originates not in stories about the World Bank or an armistice agreement but in those simple, repeatable tales that reflect the pain, confusion, or exaltations that are constant in human experience, and touch us at the deepest levels. For example, consider the death of Michael Landon. Who was Michael Landon to you, or you to Michael Landon that you should have been told so much about him when he died? Here is a possible answer: Michael Landon was rich, decent, handsome, young, and successful. Suddenly, very nearly without warning, he was struck down at the height of his powers and fame. Why? What are we to make of it? Why him? It is like some Old Testament parable; these questions were raised five thousand years ago and we still raise them today. It is the kind of story that stays news, and that is why it must be given prominence. Or so some people believe.

What about the kind of news that doesn't stay news, that is neither the stuff of history nor literature—the fires, rapes, and murders that are daily featured on local television news? Who has decided that they are important, and why? One cynical answer is that they are there because viewers take comfort in the realization that they have escaped disaster. At least for that day. It doesn't matter who in particular was murdered; the viewer wasn't. We tune in to find out how lucky we are, and go to sleep with the pleasure of knowing that we have survived. A somewhat different answer goes this way: It is the task of the news story to provide a daily accounting of the progress of society. This can be done in many ways, some of them abstract (for example, a report on the state of unemployment), some of them concrete (for example, reports on particular gruesome murders). These reports, especially those of a concrete nature, are the daily facts from which the audience is expected to draw appropriate conclusions about the question "What kind of society am I a member of?"

Studies conducted by Professor George Gerbner and his associates at the University of Pennsylvania have shown that people who are heavy television viewers, including viewers of television news shows, believe their communities are much more dangerous than do light television viewers. Television news, in other words, tends to frighten people. The question is, "Ought they to be frightened?" which is to ask, "Is the news an accurate portrayal of where we are as a society?" which leads to another question, "is it possible for daily news to give such a picture?", Many journalists believe it is possible. Some are skeptical. The early twentieth-century journalist Lincoln Steffens proved that he could create a "crime wave" any time he wanted by simply writing about all the crimes that normally occur in a large city during the course of a month. He could also end the crime wave by not writing about them. If crime waves can be "manufactured" by journalists, then how accurate are news shows in depicting the condition of a society? Besides, murders, rapes, and fires (even unemployment figures) are not the only way to assess the progress (or regress) of a society. Why are there so few television stories about symphonies that have been composed, novels written, scientific I problems solved, and a thousand other creative acts that occur during the course of a month? Were television news to be filled with these events, we would not be frightened. We would, in fact, be inspired, optimistic, cheerful.

One answer is as follows. These events make poor television news because there is so little to show about them. In the judgment of most editors, people watch television. And what they are interested in watching are exciting, intriguing, even exotic pictures. Suppose a scientist has developed a new theory about how to measure with more exactitude the speed with which heavenly objects are moving away from the earth. It is difficult to televise a theory, especially if it involves complex mathematics. You can show the scientist talking about his theory but that would not make for good television and too much of it would drive viewers to other stations.

In any case, the news show could only give the scientist twenty seconds of air time because time is an important commodity. Newspapers and magazines sell space, which is not without its limitations for a commercial enterprise. But space can be expanded. Television sells time, and time cannot be expanded. This means that whatever else is neglected, commercials cannot be, which leads to another possible answer to the question "What is news?" News, we might say, may be history in its first and best form, or the stuff of literature, or a record of the condition of a society, or the expression of things, but in its worst form it can also be mainly a "filler," a "come-on" to keep the viewer's attention until the commercials come. Certain producers have learned that by pandering to the audience, by eschewing solid news and replacing it with leering sensationalism, they can subvert the news by presenting a "television commercial show" that is interrupted by news.

All of which leads us to reiterate, first, that there are no simple answers to the question "What is news?" and, second, that it is not our purpose to tell you what you ought to believe about the question. The purpose of this chapter is to arouse your interest in thinking about the question. Your answers are to be found by knowing what you feel is significant and how your sense of the significant conforms with or departs from that of others, including broadcasters, their bosses, and their audiences. Answers are to be found in your ideas about the purpose of public communication, and in your judgment of the kind of society you live in and wish to live in. We cannot provide answers to these questions. But you also need to know something about the problems, limitations, traditions, motivations, and, yes, even the delusions of the television news industry. That's where we can help you to know how to watch a television news show.

参考译文——新闻是什么？

新闻是什么？

尼尔·波兹曼，史蒂夫·鲍尔斯

所有人都会提起新闻，到底新闻是什么？之所以讨论这个问题，是因为如若观众不去思考这个问题，就只会轻易接受别人的定义——比如电视台新闻主任的定义，或者更糟，大广告商的定义——这是非常危脸的。无论如何，这不是个简单的问题，甚至可能很多记者和广告商都没有深入思考过这个问题。

简单点说，新闻的定义可以仿照奥利弗·温德尔·霍姆斯大法官关于法律的著名定义。霍姆斯说，什么是法律？法院说什么是法律就是法律。如此而已，岂有它哉。同样，我们也可以说，电视新闻负责人和新闻记者们说什么是新闻，那它就是新闻。换言之，当你打开电视机观看新闻联播或本地新闻节目的时候，不管上面讲些什么，根据定义，这就是新闻。但是，如果我们接受这种定义方式，我们依据什么可以认为所获得的信息不够全面？或者本该报道的消息并没有报道？或者同一类消息报道过量？又或者记者的报道带有太多偏见？

诸如此类的异议一多，我们就应该明白新闻报道并没有满足我们所有人的需求。事实上，大多数人都能意识到这点，只是并没有完全清醒地认识到。当被问及“什么是新闻？”时，人们最常见的回答是“每天发生的事”。这其实是一个很糟糕的答案，即使是回答者本人都能很轻易地发觉每天有不计其数的事情发生，包括早餐的内容这种在任何意义上都不能算是新闻的事情。因此，在修改答案的时候，他们往往会加上新闻“是每天发生的、重要又有趣的事情”。这当然有些帮助，但是到底什么是“重要或有趣的事情”，这点如何判断？这个问题仍然没有解决。可以说，在这些人的意识中，对他们来讲“重要或有趣的事情”就是他们对于新闻的定义。

当然，也会有人就此说，关于“重要或有趣的事情”的问题可不是一点半点。总统的所做所说是重要的；战争、叛乱、就业率、选举、最高法院大法官的任命都是重要的。真是这样吗？总统本人恐怕也不觉得他说的每一句话都是重要的（比如，他曾发表过不喜欢花椰菜的言论）。而全世界有至少四十起战争和叛乱正在各地进行，而即使是号称“公众记录”的《纽约时报》，也并没有全部报道，甚至连大部分都没有报道。选举重要？也许。但是你可能不会对艾奥瓦州第三选区的选举感兴趣——除非你碰巧是那里的居民。有些读者可能还记得由卡尔·雷纳和梅尔·布鲁克斯主演的著名喜剧节目《两千岁老人》里的一个桥段，当被问及在他漫长的生命里，什么是他认为最重要的发明时，这位“两千岁老人”毫不犹豫地回答：“旭包鲜（保鲜膜）。”现在，关于保鲜膜的说法很多。我们甚至会怀疑，从长期来看，保鲜膜可能比那些每天在新闻媒体上广而告之的发明对我们生活的幸福指数更有帮助。但公平地说，没人指望制造商知道保鲜膜发明的日期，甚至也没人在乎这点。保鲜膜不是新闻。伊丽莎白·泰勒穿什么颜色的衣服才是新闻，至少对一部分读者来说是这样的。

玛丽莲·梦露自杀当日，世界上很多人同样结束了自己的生命，有些人轻生的理由可能和玛丽莲·梦露一样吸睛，有的甚至可能比她的还重要。但是关于这些人和他们的理由，我们是永远都不会知道了；哥伦比亚广播公司或者美国国家广播公司或者《纽约时报》的记者根本没有注意过他们。同样，1991年纽约巨人队赢得超级碗冠军的当天也有很多人自杀，我们也不可能知道这些了，不管他们的死亡多么有教育意义或者多么引人注目。

我们旨在说明如下一点：“重要性”是由人决定的。当然，有一些大事一总统遭刺杀、地震等等——会得到几乎全球的关注，其带来的后果也是全球性的。但是大多数新闻不具备这个特点。一个事件变成一件新闻，是因为我们从周遭的一片混沌中把它挑选出来使其成为新闻。这点非常明显，但要注意，很多人认为新闻就在那里，我们要做的只是把它们搜集报道出来而已。但事实上，新闻是做出来的，而不是搜集出来的。不仅如此，新闻是基于记者的理念之上做出来，记者认为重要的，或者他们认为读者会觉得重要又有趣的事情才会加以报道。这个过程很复杂。发生在北爱尔兰的杀戮比在摩洛哥的更重要吗？记者也许不这样想，但读者可能这样想。

那么哪个事件可以作为新闻？一旦选定，什么样的观点和细节应该包含其中？归根结底，记者选定要报道的新闻后，还要思考什么值得报道，什么需要舍弃，什么值得纪念，什么需要忘记。每一个新闻故事都反映出说这个故事的记者本人。记者原来对前去采访的地方会遇到什么情况的种种假设，会对他或她在那里的所见所闻进行编纂或删减。例如，很多记者认为所谓的“巴勒斯坦人暴动”有新闻价值。让我们假设一个十四岁的巴勒斯坦少年向两个十八岁以色列士兵投掷莫洛托夫燃烧弹，爆炸击倒了其中一位士兵并伤及他的左眼。另一位受到惊吓的士兵立即举枪射杀了这位少年。受伤士兵最终失去了他的左眼。在报道这起事件的时候，到底要包含什么细节？巴勒斯坦少年的年纪需要报道吗？那两位士兵的年纪呢？士兵所受的伤害呢？少年仅仅看到士兵就愤怒伤人这件事要报道吗？他的行为正当与否呢？射杀他的行为呢？射击他的士兵的心理状态呢？

以上这些问题是否报道，完全取决于记者的观点。你可能认为这种说法十分夸张，不管其预想如何，总可以按照事实来报道。但是什么才是“事实”？A·J·李伯龄在其所著《新闻界》一书中对于“事实”的错综复杂性曾提出过一个经典案例。几年前，《华尔街日报》和现已倒闭的《世界电报与太阳报》曾在同一天对莫斯科的街道发表了特写专稿。以下是《华尔街日报》记者对其的报道：

莫斯科市中心的街道和著名的地下铁，就如同旅行指南上所说，又干净又整洁。之所以如此是因为有一群妇女每天拿着笤帚簸箕，推着手推车打扫街道，她们每月赚取三十五卢布代替政府救济款；整个莫斯科市，我们没见到任何一辆机械清路机。

以下是《世界电报与太阳报》的报道：

四年前整个莫斯科由几百个妇女打扫街道，现今只有十几个妇女在打扫街道了。街道的清洁已由扫路机和喷洒机来完成。

两种报道哪种才是事实？不到十几个妇女看起来像是一群？到底有没有大型清路机打扫街道？两个专业记者的所见所闻怎会相差如此巨大？事实上：《华尔街日报》的记者在写这篇报道时，正逢报社想要强调俄罗斯的初级经济和美国的繁荣经济的对比（到现在这家报社也这样做）。那么这意味着这位记者在说谎吗？未必。我们的每一种感官都是极其敏锐的审查官。我们见到的往往是我们想要看到的东西。我们常常只集中注意力去看付了钱叫我们去看的东西。而且，我们的雇主往往希望我们接受其观点，不仅仅是其所认为的重要事件，还有重要细节。

这个现实让我们理解新闻的意义变得更加困难。许多年前，一位杰出的法国作家阿尔贝·加缪曾提过倡议，建议建立一家“管理报纸”。该报纸可在其他报纸发行1小时后出版，对各家报纸新闻的可信程度进行评估。其原话是：“我们应该对每家报社老板的兴趣利益、政治信仰和个性建立全方位档案。同样，我们也该给全世界所有记者建立同样的档案。报社老板的兴趣利益、偏见、怪癖用Z表示，记者的偏见、怪癖、个人兴趣用Y表示，Z乘以Y得X，X就是新闻的可信程度。”

加缪要么是一位不合格的数学家，要么就是他忘记了说明用Z乘Y的原因和操作方式（为什么不是加法或者除法？）。他也并没有讨论过这个评估本身的可靠性。不管怎样，加缪在没有出版此类报纸之前就过世了，留下我们每人充当自己的评估报纸。不过，我们止不住地去想加缪的理论应用于电视新闻会产生怎样的效果。想象一下，每家电台播放过新闻之后有一档为时五分钟的即时节目将会多么有用。主持人可能会这样说：“首先，这家电视台的老板是加里·法恩斯沃思，他也是邦特尔有限责任公司的董事长，这个公司的主要持股人是巴林的苏丹。邦特尔有限责任公司拥有三家日本电力公司、两家石油公司、整个上沃尔塔地区和罗马尼亚西部地区。新闻主持人年薪八十万美元，投资一家大型电脑公司。他在阿肯色州立大学获得新闻学学士学位，在校期间成绩平平，从没有修过政治学，除了英语不会第二种语言。去年他只读了两本书——《加里·格兰特传》和流行心理学图书《为什么我如此不凡？》。报道南斯拉夫新闻的记者说塞尔维亚-克罗地亚语，获得国际关系学学位，曾获得过哈佛大学尼曼奖学金。”

我们认为诸如此类的信息对于观众来说是有用处的，虽然我们的理由和加缪的初衷不尽相同。这类信息虽不能对新闻真实性进行评估，但会提供给我们那些可能会影响新闻的因素，毕竟，拥有几家石油公司的老板是谁对一些人来说很重要，对于那些连老板都没有的失业人群，这一点可能根本不重要。同样，一位不懂得他所报道地区语言的记者与一位精通该语言的记者，所获得的视角可能大不相同。

我们想说的是，想要回答“新闻是什么？”，必须先了解报道新闻的人所持的政治信仰和经济状况。之后观众就可以得知为何有些事件对于那些新闻掌控者才说如此重要了，甚至还可以把他们的观点与自己的进行对比。

还有一个问题，就如同我们所说的，连石油巨头和准备不足的记者都不会仅仅按照自己的兴趣来挑选报道所谓的“真相”。为收视率着想，他们同样也会挑选那些其认为观众会感兴趣或认为重要的亊件进行报道。实际上，有一种观点不认同新闻记者把他们对事情的重要性的观点强加于观众。这种观点认为，电视新闻只应该是那些能使观众感兴趣的事件。新闻记者必须把自己的意见放在自己肚子里。我们对此的回答是，许多观众指望记者告诉他们什么是重大新闻。不仅如此，纵然记者只是公众兴趣的跟随者，也不是所有观众都有一致的兴趣。例如，我们不认为泰勒的数次婚姻对于公众很重要，纵然，她和她的历任丈夫迈克尔·威尔丁、尼基·希尔顿、迈克·托德、艾迪·费舍、理査德·波顿、约翰·华纳、赖瑞·弗坦斯基、岱比·雷诺德、西比尔·波顿除外。但很显然，公众不这样认为，因此泰勒的每次婚姻都能占据各大报纸的头条。因此我们认为，观众不仅需要知道那些他们认为重要的事，还要知道那些别人认为重要的事。

该问题应严肃对待。你可能认为，其他人对于“重要的事情”并没有明确的概念，甚至还可能对其他人的品位不以为然。其实，你的观点可能就是大众观点。本书的目的并不是指导读者明白什么才是“重大新闻”。我们想说的是，想要回答“新闻是什么？”，就必须时刻考虑你与广大观众的关系。电视作为一种大众传播工具，所播放的新闻是面对大众而不是针对个人的。电视是一种大众传播方式，因此观众应该明白“大众”的概念。总会有观众抱怨电视很少播放小众新闻。例如，我们认识一位三十年前移民自瑞士的人，他现已是美国公民了，但仍旧时时关注祖国的动向。他曾问我们：“为什么从来不播报有关瑞士的新闻？”我们回答说：“因为只有包括你在内的一小部分人才会关注瑞士。”“那太糟了，”他说，“瑞士是个有趣的国家。”我们同意他的说法，但是大多数美国人从未踏足过瑞士，对他们来说，瑞士并没有新奇之处；他们也无亲属住在那；并且，他们宁愿听几个英国老勋贵大谈世界经济也不愿听取瑞士银行家的意见。观众或许是对的，或许不是。判断公众思想永远都是充满风险的。

以上又引出了另一个问题。可能有人会同我们一样觉得泰勒的数次婚姻并不是什么重大事件，但是他们又觉得恰恰因为如此，才更应该报道。他们会说，她的那些经历很逗乐，很有娱乐性，实在引人入胜。换句话说，新闻的目的应该是给观众带来快乐，起码要做到让他们忘记他们自己的烦心事。我们也听到很多人抱怨：“度过紧张、焦虑又失望的二天已经很难过了；打开电视看新闻，我们想要的是放松而不是感到沉重。”还有一种声音说，不论是否有娱乐性，名人的生活是应该报道的，因为他们的故事发人深省，并且很大程度上反映了社会的风俗、价值观和理想。

马克·吐温曾说新闻最为重要的形式是历史。美国诗人埃兹拉·庞德就此补充过一个有趣的观点：文学是一种永恒的新闻。他认为，文学的素材来源不是有关世界银行或者停战协议的报道，而是那些日常生活中简单重复的故事，可恰恰是这些每天都在发生的故事反映了人类的痛苦、迷茫、喜悦，也会给予我们最深的触动。例如，迈克·兰登的死。谁对你，你又对谁来说意味着他？兰登过世之时你又听到了多少关于他的故事作为告诫？一种答案以供思考：迈克·兰登富有、体面、帅气、年轻又成功。突然，几乎没有任何征兆，他就被权利和名声压跨了。为什么会这样？我们该对此做何感想？为什么是他？这就像那些《旧约》中的寓言故事一样；五千年前的先贤就已提出了这些问题，如今我们依然在提。这就是“永恒的”新闻，这也是为什么我们要着重报道这类新闻。至少一部分人是这样认为的。

那关于那些不“永恒”的新闻呢？那些既不是历史也不是文学，每日在电视上报道的火灾、强奸案和谋杀案呢？是谁，出于什么原因把这些归为重要新闻呢？一种愤世嫉俗的答案说，之所以报道这些新闻，是因为观众观看后会产生逃过一劫的幸福感。谁被谋杀了不重要，重要的是观看新闻的人还活着。观众收看此类新闻，明白自己多么幸运，并带着活着的幸福感入睡。还有另一种答案，新闻的目的就是报道社会每天发生的事情。报道的方式多种多样，有些报道很抽象（比如失业率），有些报道很具体（比如一场可怕的谋杀），这些新闻，尤其是那些详细报道的新闻，是观众对于回答“我究竟生活在一个怎样的世界里？”的事实依据。

由乔治·博格纳教授和他在宾夕法尼亚大学的同事所做的一项研究表明，与不常收看电视节目的人群相比，重度收视者（包括收看新闻）认为他们所处社区更加危险。换句话说，电视新闻似乎会惊吓到观众。但问题是，“他们应该感到害怕吗？”这等于又提出了另外一个问题：“新闻真的准确描绘出了我们的社会吗？”这又涉及了另一个问题：“每日新闻真的可以帮我们描绘出社会吗？”很多记者认为是可以的。一些记者则表示怀疑。20世纪初期的新闻记者林肯·史蒂芬斯证明了他可以在任何时间制造出“犯罪热”的现象，这仅仅只需要把所有一个月内的犯罪全部报道出来就可以了。结束这种现象也简单，停止报道就行。如果“犯罪热”可以由记者“制造”出来，那么用新闻描述社会现状的准确性到底有多少？不仅如此，谋杀、强奸案和火灾（甚至是失业率）也不是获知社会进程的唯一途径。可是为什么几乎没有新闻报道一个月内刚写成的交响乐、刚创作的小说、已解决的科学难题和成千个其他的创造行为呢？如果电视充满诸如此类的新闻，我们也就不会受到惊吓了。相反，我们会受到鼓舞，变得乐观，感到快乐。

关于这个问题，有一种答案就这样解释的。这些故事并不能构成丰满的新闻，因为可报道之处实在不多。大多数新闻编辑的判断标准是观众。观众感兴趣的是刺激有趣甚至是奇异的画面。假如一位科学家发展了一种新理论，理论是关于如何更精确地测量空中物体远离地球的速度。用电视播放理论是很困难的，尤其是如果还带有复杂的数学运算。当然也可以播放科学家解释这个理论的报道，但这并不算好新闻，而且若是过于冗长，观众就要调台了。

不论如何，电视新闻只会给科学家二十秒的镜头，因为时间实在是太宝贵了。如果说报纸和杂志卖的是版面（即便这样，广告也会占据版面），那么电视卖的就是时间，而且时间没办法扩展。这意味着不管不播出什么，广告也是一定要播放的。这也给“新闻是什么？”提供了另一种可能的答案。我们可以说，新闻是最早且形式最好的历史，或者说它是文学的原材料，或者说它是社会状态的记载，或是其他某些事物的表现，但是它最坏的形式也可以主要是在商品广告开始以前竭力留住观众注意力的一种填充物和引诱手段。一些制作人也学会了迎合观众，回避重要新闻，播放一些哗众取宠的故事。用这种方法，他们把新闻与广告本末倒置，让新闻变成广告中的插播节目。

我们再重申一遍，首先，关于“新闻是什么？”这个问题并没有简单的答案；其次，我们的目的也不是告诉读者关于这个问题，你应该知道什么。本章节的目的，是引发你对这个问题的思考。当你明白对于自己来说什么是重要的，以及你的感觉可能与其他人相同或相反时，自然就知道问题的答案了。当你明白大众传媒的目标，知道社会的样子，以及自己理想社会的样子时，自然也就知道答案了。但你同样需要知道电视新闻业存在的问题、缺陷、传统、动机甚至是错觉。这才是我们所能帮助你的地方，让你懂得如何收看电视新闻。

Key Words:

supreme [sju:'pri:m]

adj. 最高的，至上的，极度的

engrossing [en'grəusiŋ]

adj. 引人入胜的

problematic [.prɔbli'mætik]

adj. 问题的，有疑问的

assassination [ə.sæsi'neiʃən]

n. 暗杀

astute [əs'tju:t]

adj. 机敏的，精明的，狡猾的

relief [ri'li:f]

n. 减轻，解除，救济(品), 安慰，浮雕，对比

dossier ['dɔsi.ei]

n. 档案材料，人事材料，记录文件，记录，卷宗

reckless ['reklis]

adj. 不计后果的，大意的，鲁莽的

parable ['pærəbl]

n. 寓言，比喻

intriguing [in'tri:giŋ]

adj. 吸引人的，有趣的 vbl. 密谋，私通

subvert [sʌb'və:t]

vt. 推翻，颠覆，毁减，使道德败坏或不忠

参考资料：