Bridging Media Psychology and History: An Interview with Charisse L’Pree Corsbie-Massay (Part Two)
/How did Americans’ relationship to mass media first take shape? What changed from the previous ways people received and processed information?
This is a really interesting question and I'm not certain that I have the answer, even though the book is entitled 20th Century Media and the American Psyche. I begin my analyses by unpacking how communication technologies affect the way humans think about themselves and others, and throughout my analysis I acknowledge that I’m writing from an American perspective: I focus on the technologies that were popular in the United States, acknowledge that the policies and practices of mass media technology in the United States are different from other countries, and draw on the individualism that is valorized in American culture – although it is not explicitly mentioned (shame on me!).
In general, I think that the human relationship to mass media is as old as human communication itself. We generally don’t communicate to mass audiences with drum signals (i.e., broadcast without storage) anymore, but we feel something when we see them deployed in a movie like Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), just like we feel a relationship to hieroglyphs because we are aware of the source’s intention to communicate. So, I think that our relationship with mass media, American or otherwise, comes from the fundamental psychosocial need to connect with others. Therefore, the American relationship with mass media existed long before this thing we call America existed, including pre-Columbian North America and post-colonist United States.
However, I think that Jared Diamond offers an interesting perspective on the history of the American relationship with communication technologies – and subsequently mass media – in his book, Guns, Germs, and Steel (1997). The written communications of the European colonists allowed for more detailed and effective strategies across space and time, putting Indigenous Americans at a marked disadvantage. Although not unique to the United States, the use of communications as a soft weapon continued long after the colonies were established: for the better part of mediated human history, only a handful of people have had access to creating and distributing messages, often white (acknowledging the evolution of whiteness as afforded to different ethnic groups over time), male, and wealthy; enslaved Africans and African Americans were not allowed to read, and therefore not given the opportunity to participate in many components of this thing we call America; and every few years, some elected official proposes legislation to make English the official language of the United States, effectively eliminating any requirement to translate documents and systematically disadvantaging non-English speakers.
Considering this history – and I'm theorizing in real time here – I think that the American relationship with mass media took shape at colonization and has been one wherein the masses have been hustling for media access, including the ability to create, distribute, consume, and ultimately control mass messages. The American Dream, or getting one’s own piece of the pie, includes mediated representation, which has been systematically withheld from most people for centuries. When applied to the claims that I make in the book, this perspective fleshes the overall theory that the evolving American relationship with mass media replicates interpersonal relationships: coming from a default of solitude (i.e., non-representation and singlehood) we are seeking emotional satisfaction via media and IRL.
I don’t know if that answers your question, but that was a fun detour. Thank you!!
Your introduction suggests that the “relational” approach you propose here grows out of your own experiences growing up in a highly mediated culture. What kinds of epiphanies did you have as you navigated the place of media in your life?
I have so much to say on this one, but just in the interest of connecting this question to the last question, here is a paragraph from the conclusion that I think also serves as a nice bridge regarding relational experiences vs. technological determinism.
Much like interpersonal relationships, each past relationship informs (or should inform) what we want and need from future relationships. This is not the same as technological determinism; the technology has not determined our culture or our psyche. Rather, our psyches have determined the practices of technology, which then became normalized into our culture. We share selfies online for the same reasons our ancestors made cave paintings—to affirm our existence. We also reflexively check our social media for the same reason we feel a sense of awe when they looked at these cave paintings—connecting with humans is inherently and viscerally satisfying. (p. 180)
Back to your question and again, thank you so much for asking it because I feel like the book was an exercise in unpacking epiphanies and I hope that those reading the book also have the joy of similar epiphanies as they begin to think about their media uses differently.
The whole book begins with probably the most impactful epiphany that has since led me down this path of scholarship in media psychology…
In 2000, I had an epiphany while watching late-night infomercials: With enough money, anyone can reach into your home at any hour and convince you to buy or believe something that you had never considered before. In that moment, through this revelation, my life was forever changed. (p. 1)
This intersectional moment of media technology, content, and industry and how these three branches of media come together to impact how I think and what I do was mind boggling to me at the time.
Media technologies are so pervasive, it's like being a fish in water. And we all have those moments when we suddenly realize, “Oh my goodness! I'm in water!” Most importantly, it was the recognition that through the technology, I invited these messages into my home. I willingly and eagerly sat in front of this screen engage with the messages for hours on end, without recognizing that media technology was a choice. People buy televisions as a default, again detaching themselves from their own agency. That’s amazing.
In the end, I think that we generally fail to see how we are in a relationship with the media technology and that in itself is an epiphany. Habitual media use, taking pictures to make memories, the default expectation that our media will be able to deliver what we want when we want. Each of these behaviors parallels the interactions with have with partners, and that in itself was an epiphany. That my cameras – from point-and-shootsto my iPhone – have made more memories than some people in my life; that I depend on film, music, radio, and television to make me feel better when I’m sad, to make me laugh, to make me see the world differently more so than some of my professors or partners. This in itself is an epiphany.
Everybody has a favorite media. Everyone has said at some point or another… “I love X…” I love television. I love video games. I love music. I love movies. I love the internet. We say this but we do not closely analyze whywe love these technologies. What do they allow us to do? And I think that opportunity for a close investigation of one's own relationship with media technologies invites epiphanies.
One of the more surprising media included in the book is magnetic tape, which has rarely been discussed in works on mass media. Why did you decide to include it here? Why is it important to consider as you map the relationship between 20th century media and the American psyche?
I think magnetic tape is beyond important. And frankly, the fact that it has not been included in our common media history discourse is a major gap in the evolution of our relationship with media. There is work on magnetic tape and how it affords like avant-garde content, music videos, journalism, hip hop via pause tape production, and all of those things. But I haven't seen a real psychological analysis of our ability to control the ether. And as we talk about on-demand media today, magnetic tape[1]is our first instance of on-demand media as we know it. I can capture what I want when I want, especially from content that originally demanded synchronized behaviors as described in the second section related to radio and television.
Magnetic tape allowed us to control and own broadcast content, to manipulate the ether. I remember the feeling of unchecked power that came from being able to set my VCR, or even just hit record when something was happening, to make it mine instantly. It offered a sense of agency that we have now come to take for granted in a digital space. But the opportunity to go to the video rental store and pick whatever movie you wanted, or record your favorite show if you weren't going to be home, or edit a mix tape like a radio producer to share with your friends. All of these opportunities have become normalized with on-demand media, but this behavior and expectation was launched with magnetic tape.
And magnetic tape was so durable. Unlike records, or CDs and DVDs, or even digital files that can be deleted in an instant, VHS tapes and cassette seemed indestructible – as long as you didn’t leave them in a closed car in the summer – you could throw them around your car, in a box if you were moving, or just straight into your backpack without the proper case. I love this image from Jason Kohlbrenner featured in the chapter on magnetic tape.
FIGURE 7.1 Tapes Haiku (2009)
Cassette Tapes are widely assumed to be one of the lowest quality storage devices of the 20th century, but they offered durability and portability, something that vinyl, CDs, and even MP3s couldn’t match. Literal piles of tapes, both in cases and naked, were common and inevitably held a treasure trove of content. (p. 130)
I also think that the durability of magnetic tape gave us a false sense of security with respect to ownership in the digital environment. We like to think we own things, especially if we have paid for them, but the minute it has been uploaded to the cloud, it is made available to be deleted by some larger corporation. I recall having the Michael Jackson 20th Anniversary Edition of Bad that I uploaded to my iTunes. I then lost the CD. iTunes then decided that my file was not a legitimate copy and deleted it. Now I don’t have that album anymore. When you upload something to YouTube and YouTube decides that you don’t have the rights to it, your video can be deleted, and the thing that you thought you owned is gone, demonstrating that we don’t really have ownership over our media content, but since the ear of magnetic tape, we feel like we do…
I think that records are probably the first instance of on-demand media. I could pull out a song and listen to it on a whim and play it as often as I liked. I could even start and stop wherever I liked by simply inspecting the grooves.
Charisse L’Pree Corsbie-Massay is an Associate Professor of Communications at the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University. She holds BS degrees in Brain and Cognitive Science and Comparative Media Studies from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, an MA degree from the School of Cinematic Arts and a PhD in Social Psychology from University of Southern California. Charisse's work focuses on how media affects the way we think about others and our perceptions of ourselves. At Newhouse, she teaches courses on media theory, media psychology, and diversity. In her most recent book, 20th Century Media and the American Psyche, she investigates changes to the communication environment over the past 150 years and how these rapid yet pervasive shifts have affected our psychology. A committed teacher, L’Pree has spent the past 20 years encouraging others to think differently about their relationship with all forms of media and across disciplines. You can read more of her work at charisselpree.me or follow her @charisselpree.
