Anderson, professors say international reporting is here to stay
March 22, 2002
By Marcie Young
Statesman International Editor
Daniel Pearl and Terry Anderson had a lot in common. Both were foreign correspondents, covering the news in violent and dangerous overseas regions. Both were settled, soon-to-be fathers, and both were kidnapped, held hostage and threatened by political extremists.
Anderson, however, survived."If you see pictures of me when I was taken, they'd be strikingly similar," said Anderson, a former Associated Press bureau chief in Beirut and seven-year hostage.
Still, even with the lives of reporters on the line, Anderson said the press won't back down from dangerous situations and sacrifice international coverage. At a Utah State University-sponsored lecture Monday, Anderson said Pearl was not a chance-taker, but a journalist doing his job.
"Danny Pearl ... was well aware it was a dangerous profession," he said. "He knew what he was doing, and he did it the best way he could."
Even though Pearl was kidnapped while working, Anderson said the situation won't put a halt on coverage in war zones and other dangerous areas of the world.
"It is a job that is inherently dangerous. We know that," Anderson said.
Michael S. Sweeney, professor of journalism at USU and a historian of wartime journalism, agreed with Anderson, and said journalists often take assignments in dangerous parts of the world because they think the issue is important.
"I don't think one act of violence against a journalist will sour a generation of journalists from doing their jobs," he said.
Even though Pearl's situation received mass amounts of coverage, violence against reporters has not been restricted to just one incident over the last six months.
Since Sept. 11, 10 reporters have died while covering international stories, Anderson said.
Sweeney said, "There was a while there that more journalists were dead than soldiers [in Afghanistan.]"
While some journalists might decide they don't want to take the risks involved with overseas reporting, Sweeney said others would find the risks appealing.
"A lot of them get a real rush out of danger," he said.
Anderson agreed and said it takes a particular breed to cover violence internationally.
"The people who do that are peculiar," he said. "Good journalism is taking chances for important information."
Jeannie Johnson, a political science instructor and former state department and political officer, also said journalists are known for the risks they take to report the news.
"People have died covering stories for a long time," she said. "I don't think [violence against reporters] dampens the journalistic spirit."
Sweeney said he doubts any newspaper or network would force a journalist to come home to avoid a dangerous situation, but a reporter's request to come home would probably be honored. Another journalist, however, would immediately fill the empty spot in a foreign bureau, Sweeney said.
He also said international journalism is dictated more by money than by threats of violence. If the domestic budget is weak, Sweeney said, newspapers don't feel like they can afford reporters overseas. More money means more foreign bureaus, he said.
According to the January/February 2002 edition of the Columbia Journalism Review, AP has 100 overseas bureaus and 150 overseas correspondents. Because of this, Sweeney said most American newspapers are relying on AP bureaus to cover international news.
The Sept. 11 attacks brought a flood of reporters to Central Asia, according to CJR, with big news organizations adding anywhere from six to 12 reporters to the bureaus.
As of Sept. 1, The New York Times staffed 26 bureaus; The Los Angeles Times had 21; and The Washington Post had 21 overseas bureaus. The Wall Street Journal depended on 40 bureaus with 119 correspondents, according to the Columbia Journalism Review.
Regardless of money, Sweeney said there will be a lot more journalists in Pakistan and Afghanistan than in other parts of the world because of the current high news element. In times of war journalists are often forced to depend on military information officers for details, Sweeney said. He said very few reporters get to go where they want and are able to ask the questions they want to ask.
Even with hundreds of American correspondents in overseas bureaus, Sweeney said the version of what is going on in Afghanistan is coming from military sources."
If someone is prevented from seeing something ... then I call that censorship by denial of access," he said.
Anderson said, "Whatever it is you think, it's more complicated than that."During World War II, Sen. Hiram Johnson of California said, "The first casualty when war comes is truth."
Sweeney and Anderson agree, and although Johnson said the military often spins the truth during times of war, she also said journalists need to take responsibility for the role they play.
"What's happening in Afghanistan is a war of political control," she said. "[It's] about who gets to shape foreign policy."
Johnson said although the balance between the military and journalists is a touchy subject during times of war, she said there is a positive side.
"There is no way to mobilize the American public except for putting pictures in the living room," she said.
© Copyright 2002 The Statesman
2/6/02
In Logan, myths about STDs dismissed
February 6, 2002
By Marcie Young
Statesman Internatonal Editor
There is fact and there is fiction. When it comes to sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) and infections, many people can't tell the two apart.
Health educators from organizations such as the Utah AIDS Foundation (UAF) and Planned Parenthood agree many myths are circulating about who is at risk for sexually transmitted diseases and infections and who isn't.
Myth: Sexually transmitted diseases aren't very common in Utah.
Fact: Virtually everyone who engages in any sort of sexual contact is at risk for contracting a sexually transmitted disease or infection, said Stan Penfold, director of the UAF.
According to a report from the Bureau of HIV/AIDS at the State of Utah Health Department, there were 50 new HIV infections and 114 AIDS cases reported in 2001 in Utah. But Tyler Fisher, youth HIV prevention specialist at the UAF, said these numbers probably aren't accurate.
"All of the information we have is gathered from tests," Fisher said.
Gay men are more likely to get tested than other groups because there is an awareness for HIV among homosexual males, Fisher said.
When the AIDS epidemic began appearing in the early 1980s, it was often seen in homosexual men, he said, and as a result, many people who had exposed themselves took action and were tested for the virus.Fisher said the trend continues today because there is a higher rate of men who have sex with men who are getting tested.
Although Hispanic, gay men were the predominant group testing positive for HIV in 2001, Fisher said the numbers are probably incorrect because other groups get tested much less frequently.
"The reason we see higher rates in one group over another is because some people get tested more [than other groups]," Fisher said.
For example, people under the age of 20 account for 4 percent of HIV infections in Utah, Fisher said. The numbers change drastically, however, in men and women between the ages of 20 and 29, who make up 43 percent of all HIV cases in the state.
Fisher said the huge gap in the statistics is because youth under 20 aren't getting tested for HIV and other STDs.
"They'd rather not know and aren't being tested until they're a little older," Fisher said.
He explained that many young adults don't see the problem as a real issue when they read about it in a health book. Discussions, he said, are a better way to educate people in their teens and 20s about infections and other uncomfortable topics.
"I make sure it's never a lecture. We're discussing," Fisher said. "It gives ownership. It cuts down on the complacency of 'it won't happen to me.'"
Myth: Men, especially gay men, are more at risk for AIDS and other infections.
Fact: Although myths, like AIDS being the gay man's disease, are commonly heard in smaller communities like Logan, Sara Reeves, health educator and nurse at Logan's Planned Parenthood, said such myths just aren't the case.
"I'm hesitant to give gender-specific information because it's misleading," Reeves said.
She said connecting infections to specific groups is dangerous because people might think only certain groups are at risk.
"If we told men they could get pregnant, they'd use birth control," Reeves said.
Although men are reporting more cases of chlamydia, women are also at risk for the infection, she said.
Penfold said, "I don't think anyone is confident that men are infected more."
Men generally show signs of chlamydia sooner than women because there are less places in a man's body for the infection to hide, Reeves said. Women, however, are absorptive and can contain sperm in many more areas than men, she said.
Because of this, Reeves said females show symptoms less often, even if they are carrying the infection.
Myth: People who are abstinent will never contract an infection.
Fact: One of the biggest STD-related myths is connected to the idea that abstinence will keep people safe, Reeves said.
This gets to the idea that people who don't engage in penetrative, vaginal sex will be safe, she said.
But Penfold, Fisher and Reeves agree there are other ways to contract dangerous infections and being sexually active isn't reserved to intercourse. Oral sex, anal sex or any other form of contact where bodily fluids are present increase a person's chances of contracting an STD, Penfold said.
"Anybody who is sexually active does increase their risk to any STD," Penfold said.
Fisher said, "Kids don't know the rate for [genital warts] is one in five."
And Herpes, Reeves said, can actually spread to a person's face and can be passed to another person by kissing.
Although abstinence is the best way to stay protected, Reeves said communication between a sexually active couple, whether they are engaging in intercourse or not, is important.
"The best protection is to know your partner," Reeves said.
© Copyright 2002 The Statesman
By Marcie Young
Statesman Internatonal Editor
There is fact and there is fiction. When it comes to sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) and infections, many people can't tell the two apart.
Health educators from organizations such as the Utah AIDS Foundation (UAF) and Planned Parenthood agree many myths are circulating about who is at risk for sexually transmitted diseases and infections and who isn't.
Myth: Sexually transmitted diseases aren't very common in Utah.
Fact: Virtually everyone who engages in any sort of sexual contact is at risk for contracting a sexually transmitted disease or infection, said Stan Penfold, director of the UAF.
According to a report from the Bureau of HIV/AIDS at the State of Utah Health Department, there were 50 new HIV infections and 114 AIDS cases reported in 2001 in Utah. But Tyler Fisher, youth HIV prevention specialist at the UAF, said these numbers probably aren't accurate.
"All of the information we have is gathered from tests," Fisher said.
Gay men are more likely to get tested than other groups because there is an awareness for HIV among homosexual males, Fisher said.
When the AIDS epidemic began appearing in the early 1980s, it was often seen in homosexual men, he said, and as a result, many people who had exposed themselves took action and were tested for the virus.Fisher said the trend continues today because there is a higher rate of men who have sex with men who are getting tested.
Although Hispanic, gay men were the predominant group testing positive for HIV in 2001, Fisher said the numbers are probably incorrect because other groups get tested much less frequently.
"The reason we see higher rates in one group over another is because some people get tested more [than other groups]," Fisher said.
For example, people under the age of 20 account for 4 percent of HIV infections in Utah, Fisher said. The numbers change drastically, however, in men and women between the ages of 20 and 29, who make up 43 percent of all HIV cases in the state.
Fisher said the huge gap in the statistics is because youth under 20 aren't getting tested for HIV and other STDs.
"They'd rather not know and aren't being tested until they're a little older," Fisher said.
He explained that many young adults don't see the problem as a real issue when they read about it in a health book. Discussions, he said, are a better way to educate people in their teens and 20s about infections and other uncomfortable topics.
"I make sure it's never a lecture. We're discussing," Fisher said. "It gives ownership. It cuts down on the complacency of 'it won't happen to me.'"
Myth: Men, especially gay men, are more at risk for AIDS and other infections.
Fact: Although myths, like AIDS being the gay man's disease, are commonly heard in smaller communities like Logan, Sara Reeves, health educator and nurse at Logan's Planned Parenthood, said such myths just aren't the case.
"I'm hesitant to give gender-specific information because it's misleading," Reeves said.
She said connecting infections to specific groups is dangerous because people might think only certain groups are at risk.
"If we told men they could get pregnant, they'd use birth control," Reeves said.
Although men are reporting more cases of chlamydia, women are also at risk for the infection, she said.
Penfold said, "I don't think anyone is confident that men are infected more."
Men generally show signs of chlamydia sooner than women because there are less places in a man's body for the infection to hide, Reeves said. Women, however, are absorptive and can contain sperm in many more areas than men, she said.
Because of this, Reeves said females show symptoms less often, even if they are carrying the infection.
Myth: People who are abstinent will never contract an infection.
Fact: One of the biggest STD-related myths is connected to the idea that abstinence will keep people safe, Reeves said.
This gets to the idea that people who don't engage in penetrative, vaginal sex will be safe, she said.
But Penfold, Fisher and Reeves agree there are other ways to contract dangerous infections and being sexually active isn't reserved to intercourse. Oral sex, anal sex or any other form of contact where bodily fluids are present increase a person's chances of contracting an STD, Penfold said.
"Anybody who is sexually active does increase their risk to any STD," Penfold said.
Fisher said, "Kids don't know the rate for [genital warts] is one in five."
And Herpes, Reeves said, can actually spread to a person's face and can be passed to another person by kissing.
Although abstinence is the best way to stay protected, Reeves said communication between a sexually active couple, whether they are engaging in intercourse or not, is important.
"The best protection is to know your partner," Reeves said.
© Copyright 2002 The Statesman
1/25/02
Union's Euro good for trade, travelers and U.S.
January 25, 2002
By Marcie Young
Statesman International Editor
When it comes to currency diversity, 12 countries in Europe will never be the same. No more are the days of the Lire, Guilder and Franc.
By Feb. 28 of this year, use of such currencies will be extinct in the European Union. The EU is the institutional framework to unite Europe. Like the federal government in the United States, the EU creates unified policy to apply toward the countries contained in the union.
Just like Utah and New York operate under the same federal regulations, Germany and Italy operate under policies created by the Brussels-based EU. One of the biggest policies implemented by the union came with the crossover from 2001 to 2002.
Beginning on Jan. 1, the Economic and Monetary Union of the EU made the change to one standard currency — the Euro. Although some nations, such as Great Britain, Denmark, Norway and Sweden are members of the EU, officials from these respective countries decided to forgo the switch to the Euro from a national currency, according to the EU's Web page at www.eurunion.org.
Countries who did see the change earlier this month include Ireland, Portugal, Spain, France, the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Austria, Italy, Finland, Luxembourg and Greece. This list of nations represents a large chunk of Western Europe that has been using one currency, rather than a dozen different forms.
The influence of the Euro, however, goes far beyond having the same bills and coins. Basudeb Biswas, professor of economics at Utah State University, said many pros and cons come with the conversion. Exchange rates, he said, are constantly changing from highs to lows across Europe.
The implementation of the Euro creates a more stable currency for the EU as a whole, rather than the separation caused by 12 currencies. The influence of the Euro across the EU is not unlike the dollar's influence in the United States, Biswas said.
Using Alan Greenspan's recent federal policy to reduce interest rates across this country as an example, Biswas said the EU and the United States now function similarly. Just as interest rates in the United States affect each state the same way, each of the nations in the EU follow the guidelines established for all the members of the union.
But this is a problem, Biswas said.
"One country may need a higher interest rate and another a lower interest rate to stimulate the economy," he said.
He also highlighted the concept of one central bank, located in the EU's headquarters of Belgium, as a potential problem. If one country were to go into a depression, he said, it would need stimulus from the central bank. But having one currency and one central bank may be appropriate for one country but not for another, he said.
Germany, Biswas used as a hypothetical example, could be in a depression stage, whereas France's economy could be booming. If this were to happen, he said, Germany would ease its money supply and France would tighten its supply.
In the past this type of monetary control would normally happen within the individual nation, he said, but the creation of the central bank would force each of the nations to look beyond the national boarders. Most of Western Europe using the same currency, however, makes for easier internal trade, Biswas said.
"The value of trade among these countries is increasing," he said.
Ronda Callister, assistant professor of management and human resources at USU, agreed. She said business transactions between the United States and the EU will become easier. Callister, who has talked with her classes about the EU's conversion to the Euro, said a U.S.-based company working with more than one EU nation will no longer have to worry about converting more than one currency.
Using a European manufactured Ford as an example in her classes, Callister said the switch-over is more economically effective. The Ford Escort produced in the EU has pieces from the Netherlands, France and Austria, to name a few. Because the car is assembled in Germany and sold all over the EU, there is almost no transition cost because all of the countries use the Euro, she said.
Biswas said the Euro creates a more stable trading environment among EU nations causing internal trade to go up. When this happens, the United States will also have to be more productive to compete with trade in the EU, he said.
The Euro, Biswas said, will not just affect the EU, but the world, because competition creates a better economy.
The Euro, however, isn't only good for businesses and the economics, Callister said.
"It's beneficial for both business and for retail consumers who travel between countries," Callister said.
Travelers, who typically hit more than one European country when they come abroad, will only have to worry about changing their own currency to the standard Euro, Callister said.
"It makes it a seamless effort from country to country," she said. Although the Euro originally started out a little higher than the U.S. dollar when it was created in January 1999, it has changed with the economy.
Now, the Euro is worth about 88 cents, but Callister said with economic fluctuations, its value could surpass the dollar, depending on each union's economic strength.
© Copyright 2002 The Statesman
By Marcie Young
Statesman International Editor
When it comes to currency diversity, 12 countries in Europe will never be the same. No more are the days of the Lire, Guilder and Franc.
By Feb. 28 of this year, use of such currencies will be extinct in the European Union. The EU is the institutional framework to unite Europe. Like the federal government in the United States, the EU creates unified policy to apply toward the countries contained in the union.
Just like Utah and New York operate under the same federal regulations, Germany and Italy operate under policies created by the Brussels-based EU. One of the biggest policies implemented by the union came with the crossover from 2001 to 2002.
Beginning on Jan. 1, the Economic and Monetary Union of the EU made the change to one standard currency — the Euro. Although some nations, such as Great Britain, Denmark, Norway and Sweden are members of the EU, officials from these respective countries decided to forgo the switch to the Euro from a national currency, according to the EU's Web page at www.eurunion.org.
Countries who did see the change earlier this month include Ireland, Portugal, Spain, France, the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Austria, Italy, Finland, Luxembourg and Greece. This list of nations represents a large chunk of Western Europe that has been using one currency, rather than a dozen different forms.
The influence of the Euro, however, goes far beyond having the same bills and coins. Basudeb Biswas, professor of economics at Utah State University, said many pros and cons come with the conversion. Exchange rates, he said, are constantly changing from highs to lows across Europe.
The implementation of the Euro creates a more stable currency for the EU as a whole, rather than the separation caused by 12 currencies. The influence of the Euro across the EU is not unlike the dollar's influence in the United States, Biswas said.
Using Alan Greenspan's recent federal policy to reduce interest rates across this country as an example, Biswas said the EU and the United States now function similarly. Just as interest rates in the United States affect each state the same way, each of the nations in the EU follow the guidelines established for all the members of the union.
But this is a problem, Biswas said.
"One country may need a higher interest rate and another a lower interest rate to stimulate the economy," he said.
He also highlighted the concept of one central bank, located in the EU's headquarters of Belgium, as a potential problem. If one country were to go into a depression, he said, it would need stimulus from the central bank. But having one currency and one central bank may be appropriate for one country but not for another, he said.
Germany, Biswas used as a hypothetical example, could be in a depression stage, whereas France's economy could be booming. If this were to happen, he said, Germany would ease its money supply and France would tighten its supply.
In the past this type of monetary control would normally happen within the individual nation, he said, but the creation of the central bank would force each of the nations to look beyond the national boarders. Most of Western Europe using the same currency, however, makes for easier internal trade, Biswas said.
"The value of trade among these countries is increasing," he said.
Ronda Callister, assistant professor of management and human resources at USU, agreed. She said business transactions between the United States and the EU will become easier. Callister, who has talked with her classes about the EU's conversion to the Euro, said a U.S.-based company working with more than one EU nation will no longer have to worry about converting more than one currency.
Using a European manufactured Ford as an example in her classes, Callister said the switch-over is more economically effective. The Ford Escort produced in the EU has pieces from the Netherlands, France and Austria, to name a few. Because the car is assembled in Germany and sold all over the EU, there is almost no transition cost because all of the countries use the Euro, she said.
Biswas said the Euro creates a more stable trading environment among EU nations causing internal trade to go up. When this happens, the United States will also have to be more productive to compete with trade in the EU, he said.
The Euro, Biswas said, will not just affect the EU, but the world, because competition creates a better economy.
The Euro, however, isn't only good for businesses and the economics, Callister said.
"It's beneficial for both business and for retail consumers who travel between countries," Callister said.
Travelers, who typically hit more than one European country when they come abroad, will only have to worry about changing their own currency to the standard Euro, Callister said.
"It makes it a seamless effort from country to country," she said. Although the Euro originally started out a little higher than the U.S. dollar when it was created in January 1999, it has changed with the economy.
Now, the Euro is worth about 88 cents, but Callister said with economic fluctuations, its value could surpass the dollar, depending on each union's economic strength.
© Copyright 2002 The Statesman
1/14/02
Hay bales removed from Old Main Hill for liability
January 14, 2002
By Marcie Young
Statesman International Editor
LOGAN - Utah State University student Janessa Slatky wasn't sure if her car was going to stop on the icy road when she saw an 8-year-old boy fly down Old Main Hill, bump across the frozen gravel and land in a front yard across the street.
Last year, the sledder would have hit a rock-hard bale of frozen straw. With the disappearance of the straw bales from the bottom of Old Main Hill, sledders are forced to take responsibility for their own actions, USU landscape manager Ellen Newell said.
"Person after person would sail down that hill and hit that concrete wall," Craig Simper, member of the university counsel said. "[Not having bales] forces you to think about the options and the consequences."
The decision to remove the bales — the first time USU has gone without some sort of safety precaution for sledders in decades — did not come easy.
"We just went around and round," Newell said. "No one could come up with a decision."From a legal standpoint, USU was beginning to look toward the possibly of liability from the school-sponsored bales, Simper said.
"This is a case of darned if you do, darned if you don't," he said.
Although Simper said no one has held USU responsible for injuries caused by the bales, he said some of the accidents were getting bad enough to make the university nervous about potential liability. He said USU has posted signs on the hill, warning people that they use the hill at their own risk, but then they put up the bales.
"By saying people should sled at their own risk and then putting up bales was saying [USU] was taking responsibility," he said.
Although Newell collaborated with Simper and the University Counsel, USU Police and Landscape Operations and Maintenance, she was ultimately responsible. Newell decided to go without the bales this year because more people were being injured by the straw barricades.
"People were led into the false assumption that these were soft bales of straw," Simper said. In addition to the threat of hitting a frozen wall, Newell said snowboarders were taking the bales apart to make jumps, leaving metal wires poking out.
Steve Mecham, USU police chief, reported that seven people were injured while sledding on Old Main Hill last year, four of which were caused by hitting the straw bales.
"When the water freezes, hitting those bales is like hitting concrete," Mecham said.
The injuries caused by the bales ranged from broken bones and head injuries to scratches and bruises. One of the worst, Mecham said, was when a parent depended on the bales to stop the sledding children, leaving one child with a broken femur.
"Last year was an exceptional year [for accidents]," Mecham said. "And some thought the bales were there to stop them."
Although the 2000-2001 sledding season may have been a hazardous one, past years have actually reported less accidents on Old Main Hill than this year, without the bales. This winter Mecham reported three have been injured on Old Main Hill, but those injuries happened long before sledders hit the bottom of the hill.
One injury was caused by hitting a tree, another when someone fell off a sled and the third was caused when someone went over a jump, Mecham said.
After the winter of 1999-2000, two injuries were acquired on the hill, one of which was by the bales. The previous year produced a similar report.
Simper, however, said the injuries caused by the bales were actually much more serious than the accidents which have happened this year.
"It wasn't so much the accidents but the nature of the accidents," he said. "I guess we'll live with the cuts and bruises. We're tying to avoid the catastrophe."
David Harston, assistant chief over EMS for the Logan Fire Department, said he doesn't have an opinion about the bales being set up on Old Main Hill.
When an ambulance is dispatched to the hill, it is the Logan Police Department and Harston's EMS team that responds to the call.
"I think it's kind of a toss up," Harston said. "Between a [straw] bale and a car, a [straw] bale will probably be safer, but that's not to say it's the answer."
Mecham and Newell said they are happy people are being more careful when they take to the hill. Parents no longer use the hill as a baby sitter, Newell said, and are staying at the bottom of the hill, catching their children when they zoom down.
"What I see is that everyone knows the curbs are there and the cars are there and they should put on the brakes before they get there," Mecham said.
Most parents who bring their kids to play on the hill say they'd act no differently if the bales were still set up.
Natalie Wilcox, a parent of a 6-and 4-year-old, took her daughters sledding on Old Main Hill for the first time Saturday. Her daughter's first attempt down the hill shocked her.
"I had no idea she was going to keep on going," Wilcox said.
Even though her daughter's first run sent the inner tube nearly into the road, Wilcox said she's much more comfortable being responsible for her children than depending on a straw bale.
Marlan Smith, a father of a helmeted 6-year-old sledder, said having straw bales might be a nice thing to have as back-up, but even if the bales were there, he said he'd be ready to catch his child at the bottom of the hill.
"It's kind of nice to have the [straw] bales there, just in case," Smith said. "I saw one kid fly out into the road when I got here."
© Copyright 2002 The Statesman
By Marcie Young
Statesman International Editor
LOGAN - Utah State University student Janessa Slatky wasn't sure if her car was going to stop on the icy road when she saw an 8-year-old boy fly down Old Main Hill, bump across the frozen gravel and land in a front yard across the street.
Last year, the sledder would have hit a rock-hard bale of frozen straw. With the disappearance of the straw bales from the bottom of Old Main Hill, sledders are forced to take responsibility for their own actions, USU landscape manager Ellen Newell said.
"Person after person would sail down that hill and hit that concrete wall," Craig Simper, member of the university counsel said. "[Not having bales] forces you to think about the options and the consequences."
The decision to remove the bales — the first time USU has gone without some sort of safety precaution for sledders in decades — did not come easy.
"We just went around and round," Newell said. "No one could come up with a decision."From a legal standpoint, USU was beginning to look toward the possibly of liability from the school-sponsored bales, Simper said.
"This is a case of darned if you do, darned if you don't," he said.
Although Simper said no one has held USU responsible for injuries caused by the bales, he said some of the accidents were getting bad enough to make the university nervous about potential liability. He said USU has posted signs on the hill, warning people that they use the hill at their own risk, but then they put up the bales.
"By saying people should sled at their own risk and then putting up bales was saying [USU] was taking responsibility," he said.
Although Newell collaborated with Simper and the University Counsel, USU Police and Landscape Operations and Maintenance, she was ultimately responsible. Newell decided to go without the bales this year because more people were being injured by the straw barricades.
"People were led into the false assumption that these were soft bales of straw," Simper said. In addition to the threat of hitting a frozen wall, Newell said snowboarders were taking the bales apart to make jumps, leaving metal wires poking out.
Steve Mecham, USU police chief, reported that seven people were injured while sledding on Old Main Hill last year, four of which were caused by hitting the straw bales.
"When the water freezes, hitting those bales is like hitting concrete," Mecham said.
The injuries caused by the bales ranged from broken bones and head injuries to scratches and bruises. One of the worst, Mecham said, was when a parent depended on the bales to stop the sledding children, leaving one child with a broken femur.
"Last year was an exceptional year [for accidents]," Mecham said. "And some thought the bales were there to stop them."
Although the 2000-2001 sledding season may have been a hazardous one, past years have actually reported less accidents on Old Main Hill than this year, without the bales. This winter Mecham reported three have been injured on Old Main Hill, but those injuries happened long before sledders hit the bottom of the hill.
One injury was caused by hitting a tree, another when someone fell off a sled and the third was caused when someone went over a jump, Mecham said.
After the winter of 1999-2000, two injuries were acquired on the hill, one of which was by the bales. The previous year produced a similar report.
Simper, however, said the injuries caused by the bales were actually much more serious than the accidents which have happened this year.
"It wasn't so much the accidents but the nature of the accidents," he said. "I guess we'll live with the cuts and bruises. We're tying to avoid the catastrophe."
David Harston, assistant chief over EMS for the Logan Fire Department, said he doesn't have an opinion about the bales being set up on Old Main Hill.
When an ambulance is dispatched to the hill, it is the Logan Police Department and Harston's EMS team that responds to the call.
"I think it's kind of a toss up," Harston said. "Between a [straw] bale and a car, a [straw] bale will probably be safer, but that's not to say it's the answer."
Mecham and Newell said they are happy people are being more careful when they take to the hill. Parents no longer use the hill as a baby sitter, Newell said, and are staying at the bottom of the hill, catching their children when they zoom down.
"What I see is that everyone knows the curbs are there and the cars are there and they should put on the brakes before they get there," Mecham said.
Most parents who bring their kids to play on the hill say they'd act no differently if the bales were still set up.
Natalie Wilcox, a parent of a 6-and 4-year-old, took her daughters sledding on Old Main Hill for the first time Saturday. Her daughter's first attempt down the hill shocked her.
"I had no idea she was going to keep on going," Wilcox said.
Even though her daughter's first run sent the inner tube nearly into the road, Wilcox said she's much more comfortable being responsible for her children than depending on a straw bale.
Marlan Smith, a father of a helmeted 6-year-old sledder, said having straw bales might be a nice thing to have as back-up, but even if the bales were there, he said he'd be ready to catch his child at the bottom of the hill.
"It's kind of nice to have the [straw] bales there, just in case," Smith said. "I saw one kid fly out into the road when I got here."
© Copyright 2002 The Statesman
2/14/01
On the beat
Night patrol: Loooong stretches of routine punctuated by moments of pure adrenaline
November 29, 2000
By Marcie Young
Logan Hearld Journal /Hard News Cafe
Saturday, 5:58 a.m.
An explosion of people dressed warmly in brightly colored fleece jackets, jogging pants and headbands swarm onto a narrow street above downtown Logan. Brilliant white snowflakes fall from the charcoal morning sky as yellow school buses invade the usually silent neighborhood.
The buzz of anxious chatter fills the air. The day is just beginning for the runners of the annual marathon; but for Louise Speth, a Logan police patrol officer, the day is just ending.
In Speth's patrol car, the radio cackles, "Expect about 30 buses," as the yellow monsters weave between the horde of people and cars.
Speth, a Maryland native, grabs her jacket, flips on the blue and red lights on top of her patrol car and joins the commotion outside. She directs traffic, telling the drivers of the banana-colored buses to go straight and pointing the sea of cars away from the clogged road.
A Saturday morning like this is nothing compared to the shift Speth is wrapping up. Speth's shift, the graveyard, begins at 10 p.m. Friday and ends the next day at 6 a.m. Sometimes things are mellow in Cache Valley's largest city, she says, and other times, like today, the excitement seems endless.
Friday, 10:03 p.m.
The asphalt shines as rain splatters on the road outside Wilson Motor Co. Speth scribbles on her metal clipboard, "improper lookout" and hands the driver of the white Celica a canary yellow ticket.
"A classic Main Street accident," Speth says as she pulls onto the busy Logan street. The driver of the white car just looked away for a second, Speth explains, as the radio announces an alarm at the Cache Valley Mall.
10:05 p.m.
There will be a lot of these, Speth says as she pulls into the empty parking lot outside Gottschalks department store.
The alarm at the store starting ringing while Speth was at the fender-bender accident on Main. A Gottschalks manager, referred to as the RP for "responding person" in a police report, pulls into the parking lot driving a tan station wagon, followed by another police car.
The woman, with a baby snuggled in pastel blankets, steps out of her car; Officer Chad Carpenter saunters from his patrol car over to Speth. The three enter the building, and while the woman with spiky blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses presses numbers into the alarm's keypad, the two officers walk around the deserted department store.
Finding nothing other than the strong winds, that could have set the alarm off, the duo heads for the store's employee-only exit. Carpenter notices picture frames are on sale for 60 percent off and vows he will come shopping Sunday.
The officers walk to their cars as Carpenter yells out, "Coffee?" Speth nods and says, "Yeah, see you there."
10:34 p.m.
But Speth doesn't make it to the gas station for her coffee. Just moments after pulling out of the empty mall parking lot, Speth notices a Hyde Park police officer talking to a young man in a green Jeep Wrangler. She pulls up behind the officer's Bronco, which is blocking the Jeep from view, and he makes his way over to Speth's window.
Before walking back to his Bronco, the Hyde Park officer tells Speth the 20 year-old kid in the Jeep is pretty shaken up. "You'll see why," she says, "when [the other officer] drives away."
With that the police Bronco pulls out into traffic, leaving the Jeep's headlights shining into Speth's car.
She gathers her notepad, ticket book and pen, opens her door and walks toward the Jeep. The driver nervously explains that he took the corner too fast, and with the wet roads from the rain that was enough to spin his jeep around.
He was headed right into oncoming traffic, Speth says, as she types the driver's information into her laptop computer.
"It was probably a little more dramatic than the kid profiled it."
The dispatch officer clears the driver's license number with "1010," a code for saying the driver doesn't have any warrants against him.
Speth hands the reckless driving ticket to the driver through the Jeep window and watches him pull out onto the slippery road.
She explains that the kid was pretty shaken up, so she allowed for a little more time-17 minutes-to let him calm down.
"If he had gone an inch further, he would have flipped," she says, strapping her seatbelt across her waist. "This could have been pretty bad."
11:02 p.m.
"I wouldn't trade [this job] for all the tea in China," Speth says of her two years as a patrol officer.
She talks and glances at her computer at the same time, noticing a vandalism report from 8 p.m. pop-up on the screen. The call, she explains, has been pushed back on the list because of other, more timely events. She turns her vehicle around and heads south on Main Street before turning onto a dark neighborhood road.
"270 South," she says, searching for the house. She pulls in front of a small brick home with toys thrown about the front yard and steps out of the car. A man in his early 40s with a button down white shirt and thinning light brown hair opens the front door. His wife and three children sit on the tan sofa.
"Sorry it took so long to get here," Speth says, as the man pulls out a chair for her to sit on. "What happened?"
The boys, the oldest probably no more than 8, were watching a movie when they heard glass break downstairs, the man says.
"And I went down to see what happened," interrupts the older son, "and I saw this glass all over my bed, and the window was broken."
Outside the basement bedroom window, the father found a baseball decorated with a Power Ranger cartoon.
"This isn't the first thing that's happened," he says.
Neighborhood kids have been harassing the boys and things have been missing from their home, he explains. Speth scribbles notes in her small notebook, nodding as the man speaks. She suggests the boys ignore the neighborhood kids and tells the father she or another officer will talk to the other children and their parents.
"Sometimes kids will admit to things when a police officer is asking the questions," she says as she walks out to her car to get her camera.
The father escorts Speth down the stairs to the bedroom where the window was broken. She snaps a few photos for evidence and hands the man a card with her name and the station's number, and says she'll be in touch.
She pockets the baseball for evidence and says, "Have a better night." Speth smiles as the man closes the door behind her.
Saturday, 12:06 a.m.
Speth turns the key in the ignition, and her patrol car comes to life. She pulls out of the dark neighborhood, and starts explaining what it takes to become a patrol officer in Logan.
The 32 year-old officer runs her hand through her short, dark brown hair, detailing the fitness test she took a week earlier. A mile run, push-ups and sit-ups, a flexibility stretch and a 300-yard dash tested the patrol officers' physical abilities. Speth, the only woman patrol officer, says although her job requires her to be in good shape, she works out mostly to relieve stress.
"It's a really high stress position, and you have to take care of yourself to do your job well," Speth says, randomly weaving her way through the dark streets.
She pulls into the parking lot of a Main Street gas station and walks into the empty store. She fills up a coffee mug and sips delicately from it, the steam rising into the air.
"We see life at its worst, and sometimes it's hard to take home with you," she says between sips. All of the officers have their own ways of dealing with stress, and learning to be objective is something that all officers have to do, Speth explains as three Logan patrolmen file into the store, taking advantage of talking about the calls they've responded to.
The dispatcher's voice, however, breaks their chatter as the four officers reach simultaneously for their Walkie-Talkies.
"I'll take this one," Speth says, picking up her coffee and waving to her colleagues.
1:41 a.m.
Responding to a call made by a 15-year-old girl, Speth veers her car toward the Island in the heart of Logan. The girl, sitting on a wooden bench outside the market, is disoriented and confused as Speth helps her into the patrol car. The high school freshman had not been drinking or doing drugs when she passed out a few blocks from a small neighborhood store.
"Hi, this is Officer Speth with the Logan Police Department," Speth tells the girl's mother. "I'm bringing her home now, and she's OK, so you don't need to worry."
The girl had hit her head when she was horsing around with a friend after the school dance, Speth says after walking the teen-ager into her Nibley home. At first the girl had no idea where she was, but as she started talking about the night's events, she began to remember more Speth explains, heading back into Logan.
2:21 a.m.
Speth continues to roam the mostly empty streets and lets her mind wander to past conversations with Logan residents. People think that because Logan feels like a small town, they don't have to lock their doors, she says.
As an officer, however, Speth says, "We're almost hyper-aware of all the stuff that goes on."
2:35 a.m.
She is about to start another sentence when the static on the radio breaks with a nervous voice of an officer yelling instructions. His voice is broken between the static as Speth suddenly begins to speed through the quiet streets at 65 mph.
"This is scary because we don't know where they are right now," she says anxiously.
The voice over the radio crackles, "The flower shop," and Speth takes a quick turn onto 600 East. Just a few seconds later, she pulls into the parking lot just in time to see Carpenter and Officer Chad Vernon tackle a slender man with long and wild brown hair.
Speth jumps quickly out of her car and reaches for her gun. The man's face is pressed against the cold pavement as the two male officers clasp the cold, metal handcuffs around his wrists.
Carpenter and Vernon help the man to his feet, the man yelling angrily, "I'm not doin' nuthin'. I don't want a confrontation."
Speth notices the other officers have the situation under control, so she moves her hands away from her holster. Once Vernon and Carpenter get the man into the back of Carpenter's car, Vernon approaches Speth's car and says, "I arrested him about 18 months ago on domestic violence charges."
This time the man head-butted his wife and hung up the phone after she tried to call the police, Vernon explains as Speth fiddles with her computer, trying to find the couple's address.
3:39 a.m.
While Carpenter and Vernon book the man into jail, the other officers continue with their patrol. Speth responds to a fire alarm at the Comfort Inn. She finds a spot in the crowded parking lot and walks up to Room 128.
A man, probably in his early 50s, looks through his window, a worried expression on his face. He opens the door and tells Speth the smoke detector started screaming about 15 minutes ago. Speth checks the room over, smells the air and is examing the air conditioning and heating unit when two yellow-uniform clad firefighters walk into the hotel room.
The man, his pajama shirt sloppily tucked into his jeans, sits down on the couch and says in an exhausted voice, "I'd have to be getting up in about an hour, anyhow."
His number for the marathon lies on the dresser, and his running clothes are tossed over the back of a chair.
Members of fire crew check the room, deciding the alarm was false. Speth scribbles the incident number on her palm and climbs back into the car.
"My hand's a real convenient place to write stuff," she says as she backs out of the parking lot.
4:02 a.m.
Speth turns on her headlights and heads back to the station to write her reports, check her mail and turn in evidence, such as the photos and baseball she had taken earlier in the night. She refers to a few case numbers on her hand and notebook as she sits down at the computer.
Although filling out these reports isn't the most exciting part of the job, Speth says, it's just something that has to be done.
4:57 a.m.
"This was a busy night," Speth says as she climbs the stairs of the police station and heads back out to her car, her paperwork completed.
As hundreds of runners begin waking up and preparing for the 26.2-mile run, Speth rolls her head from side to side, trying to work the knots in her neck loose. Speth starts her car again, as she has done dozens of times during the shift. This time, however, she knows she is on the last leg of her marathon.
November 29, 2000
By Marcie Young
Logan Hearld Journal /Hard News Cafe
Saturday, 5:58 a.m.
An explosion of people dressed warmly in brightly colored fleece jackets, jogging pants and headbands swarm onto a narrow street above downtown Logan. Brilliant white snowflakes fall from the charcoal morning sky as yellow school buses invade the usually silent neighborhood.
The buzz of anxious chatter fills the air. The day is just beginning for the runners of the annual marathon; but for Louise Speth, a Logan police patrol officer, the day is just ending.
In Speth's patrol car, the radio cackles, "Expect about 30 buses," as the yellow monsters weave between the horde of people and cars.
Speth, a Maryland native, grabs her jacket, flips on the blue and red lights on top of her patrol car and joins the commotion outside. She directs traffic, telling the drivers of the banana-colored buses to go straight and pointing the sea of cars away from the clogged road.
A Saturday morning like this is nothing compared to the shift Speth is wrapping up. Speth's shift, the graveyard, begins at 10 p.m. Friday and ends the next day at 6 a.m. Sometimes things are mellow in Cache Valley's largest city, she says, and other times, like today, the excitement seems endless.
Friday, 10:03 p.m.
The asphalt shines as rain splatters on the road outside Wilson Motor Co. Speth scribbles on her metal clipboard, "improper lookout" and hands the driver of the white Celica a canary yellow ticket.
"A classic Main Street accident," Speth says as she pulls onto the busy Logan street. The driver of the white car just looked away for a second, Speth explains, as the radio announces an alarm at the Cache Valley Mall.
10:05 p.m.
There will be a lot of these, Speth says as she pulls into the empty parking lot outside Gottschalks department store.
The alarm at the store starting ringing while Speth was at the fender-bender accident on Main. A Gottschalks manager, referred to as the RP for "responding person" in a police report, pulls into the parking lot driving a tan station wagon, followed by another police car.
The woman, with a baby snuggled in pastel blankets, steps out of her car; Officer Chad Carpenter saunters from his patrol car over to Speth. The three enter the building, and while the woman with spiky blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses presses numbers into the alarm's keypad, the two officers walk around the deserted department store.
Finding nothing other than the strong winds, that could have set the alarm off, the duo heads for the store's employee-only exit. Carpenter notices picture frames are on sale for 60 percent off and vows he will come shopping Sunday.
The officers walk to their cars as Carpenter yells out, "Coffee?" Speth nods and says, "Yeah, see you there."
10:34 p.m.
But Speth doesn't make it to the gas station for her coffee. Just moments after pulling out of the empty mall parking lot, Speth notices a Hyde Park police officer talking to a young man in a green Jeep Wrangler. She pulls up behind the officer's Bronco, which is blocking the Jeep from view, and he makes his way over to Speth's window.
Before walking back to his Bronco, the Hyde Park officer tells Speth the 20 year-old kid in the Jeep is pretty shaken up. "You'll see why," she says, "when [the other officer] drives away."
With that the police Bronco pulls out into traffic, leaving the Jeep's headlights shining into Speth's car.
She gathers her notepad, ticket book and pen, opens her door and walks toward the Jeep. The driver nervously explains that he took the corner too fast, and with the wet roads from the rain that was enough to spin his jeep around.
He was headed right into oncoming traffic, Speth says, as she types the driver's information into her laptop computer.
"It was probably a little more dramatic than the kid profiled it."
The dispatch officer clears the driver's license number with "1010," a code for saying the driver doesn't have any warrants against him.
Speth hands the reckless driving ticket to the driver through the Jeep window and watches him pull out onto the slippery road.
She explains that the kid was pretty shaken up, so she allowed for a little more time-17 minutes-to let him calm down.
"If he had gone an inch further, he would have flipped," she says, strapping her seatbelt across her waist. "This could have been pretty bad."
11:02 p.m.
"I wouldn't trade [this job] for all the tea in China," Speth says of her two years as a patrol officer.
She talks and glances at her computer at the same time, noticing a vandalism report from 8 p.m. pop-up on the screen. The call, she explains, has been pushed back on the list because of other, more timely events. She turns her vehicle around and heads south on Main Street before turning onto a dark neighborhood road.
"270 South," she says, searching for the house. She pulls in front of a small brick home with toys thrown about the front yard and steps out of the car. A man in his early 40s with a button down white shirt and thinning light brown hair opens the front door. His wife and three children sit on the tan sofa.
"Sorry it took so long to get here," Speth says, as the man pulls out a chair for her to sit on. "What happened?"
The boys, the oldest probably no more than 8, were watching a movie when they heard glass break downstairs, the man says.
"And I went down to see what happened," interrupts the older son, "and I saw this glass all over my bed, and the window was broken."
Outside the basement bedroom window, the father found a baseball decorated with a Power Ranger cartoon.
"This isn't the first thing that's happened," he says.
Neighborhood kids have been harassing the boys and things have been missing from their home, he explains. Speth scribbles notes in her small notebook, nodding as the man speaks. She suggests the boys ignore the neighborhood kids and tells the father she or another officer will talk to the other children and their parents.
"Sometimes kids will admit to things when a police officer is asking the questions," she says as she walks out to her car to get her camera.
The father escorts Speth down the stairs to the bedroom where the window was broken. She snaps a few photos for evidence and hands the man a card with her name and the station's number, and says she'll be in touch.
She pockets the baseball for evidence and says, "Have a better night." Speth smiles as the man closes the door behind her.
Saturday, 12:06 a.m.
Speth turns the key in the ignition, and her patrol car comes to life. She pulls out of the dark neighborhood, and starts explaining what it takes to become a patrol officer in Logan.
The 32 year-old officer runs her hand through her short, dark brown hair, detailing the fitness test she took a week earlier. A mile run, push-ups and sit-ups, a flexibility stretch and a 300-yard dash tested the patrol officers' physical abilities. Speth, the only woman patrol officer, says although her job requires her to be in good shape, she works out mostly to relieve stress.
"It's a really high stress position, and you have to take care of yourself to do your job well," Speth says, randomly weaving her way through the dark streets.
She pulls into the parking lot of a Main Street gas station and walks into the empty store. She fills up a coffee mug and sips delicately from it, the steam rising into the air.
"We see life at its worst, and sometimes it's hard to take home with you," she says between sips. All of the officers have their own ways of dealing with stress, and learning to be objective is something that all officers have to do, Speth explains as three Logan patrolmen file into the store, taking advantage of talking about the calls they've responded to.
The dispatcher's voice, however, breaks their chatter as the four officers reach simultaneously for their Walkie-Talkies.
"I'll take this one," Speth says, picking up her coffee and waving to her colleagues.
1:41 a.m.
Responding to a call made by a 15-year-old girl, Speth veers her car toward the Island in the heart of Logan. The girl, sitting on a wooden bench outside the market, is disoriented and confused as Speth helps her into the patrol car. The high school freshman had not been drinking or doing drugs when she passed out a few blocks from a small neighborhood store.
"Hi, this is Officer Speth with the Logan Police Department," Speth tells the girl's mother. "I'm bringing her home now, and she's OK, so you don't need to worry."
The girl had hit her head when she was horsing around with a friend after the school dance, Speth says after walking the teen-ager into her Nibley home. At first the girl had no idea where she was, but as she started talking about the night's events, she began to remember more Speth explains, heading back into Logan.
2:21 a.m.
Speth continues to roam the mostly empty streets and lets her mind wander to past conversations with Logan residents. People think that because Logan feels like a small town, they don't have to lock their doors, she says.
As an officer, however, Speth says, "We're almost hyper-aware of all the stuff that goes on."
2:35 a.m.
She is about to start another sentence when the static on the radio breaks with a nervous voice of an officer yelling instructions. His voice is broken between the static as Speth suddenly begins to speed through the quiet streets at 65 mph.
"This is scary because we don't know where they are right now," she says anxiously.
The voice over the radio crackles, "The flower shop," and Speth takes a quick turn onto 600 East. Just a few seconds later, she pulls into the parking lot just in time to see Carpenter and Officer Chad Vernon tackle a slender man with long and wild brown hair.
Speth jumps quickly out of her car and reaches for her gun. The man's face is pressed against the cold pavement as the two male officers clasp the cold, metal handcuffs around his wrists.
Carpenter and Vernon help the man to his feet, the man yelling angrily, "I'm not doin' nuthin'. I don't want a confrontation."
Speth notices the other officers have the situation under control, so she moves her hands away from her holster. Once Vernon and Carpenter get the man into the back of Carpenter's car, Vernon approaches Speth's car and says, "I arrested him about 18 months ago on domestic violence charges."
This time the man head-butted his wife and hung up the phone after she tried to call the police, Vernon explains as Speth fiddles with her computer, trying to find the couple's address.
3:39 a.m.
While Carpenter and Vernon book the man into jail, the other officers continue with their patrol. Speth responds to a fire alarm at the Comfort Inn. She finds a spot in the crowded parking lot and walks up to Room 128.
A man, probably in his early 50s, looks through his window, a worried expression on his face. He opens the door and tells Speth the smoke detector started screaming about 15 minutes ago. Speth checks the room over, smells the air and is examing the air conditioning and heating unit when two yellow-uniform clad firefighters walk into the hotel room.
The man, his pajama shirt sloppily tucked into his jeans, sits down on the couch and says in an exhausted voice, "I'd have to be getting up in about an hour, anyhow."
His number for the marathon lies on the dresser, and his running clothes are tossed over the back of a chair.
Members of fire crew check the room, deciding the alarm was false. Speth scribbles the incident number on her palm and climbs back into the car.
"My hand's a real convenient place to write stuff," she says as she backs out of the parking lot.
4:02 a.m.
Speth turns on her headlights and heads back to the station to write her reports, check her mail and turn in evidence, such as the photos and baseball she had taken earlier in the night. She refers to a few case numbers on her hand and notebook as she sits down at the computer.
Although filling out these reports isn't the most exciting part of the job, Speth says, it's just something that has to be done.
4:57 a.m.
"This was a busy night," Speth says as she climbs the stairs of the police station and heads back out to her car, her paperwork completed.
As hundreds of runners begin waking up and preparing for the 26.2-mile run, Speth rolls her head from side to side, trying to work the knots in her neck loose. Speth starts her car again, as she has done dozens of times during the shift. This time, however, she knows she is on the last leg of her marathon.
2/6/01
Children awash in images that make them think violence is cool and the world is scary
This installment: Violence and children, with some thoughts by George Gerbner, Jackson Katz and two cartoon animals of the desert
February 5, 2001
Part 1: Violence and men
Part 2: Violence and women
By Marcie Young
Hard News Cafe
EDITOR'S NOTE: Children witness between 25 and 30 acts of violence when they watch one hour of cartoons, according to George Gerbner of the Annenberg School of Communication at the University of Pennsylvania. Ninety-nine percent of homes in the United States have a television. Although children watch about 25 hours of television a week, Gerbner said television sets are on for nearly twice that -- seven hours a day. It is from constant exposure to television and movies that make children think the world is a violent and unsafe place, he said.
• • •
Three, two, one -- action.
The coyote tried using bombs to catch the roadrunner. He tried grenades. When those failed him, he turned to guns, dynamite, knives and 10,000-pound weights. Still nothing could help him catch the bird. The bombs exploded while the coyote held them in his hands, the weights smashed his body into the hard desert sand, and the guns fired at point-blank range into his face. The coyote was never injured for more than a few seconds.
In this 33-minute Wiley Coyote and the Roadrunner video there were 59 acts of violence. In Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a popular movie and cartoon in the late 1980s and early 1990s, more than 150 acts of violence filled the screen in an hour. Today video games such as Street Fighter tell children that fighting is a part of life, said Jackson Katz, an anti-violence educator and media analyst.
In his educational film, Tough Guise, Katz said violence is something that television networks and motion picture companies validate through the programs shown and the movies released. He also said the problem isn't something the media alone has created.
"The root of the problem lie à everywhere, deeply embedded in what passes for normal culture -- part of the normal training, conditioning and socializing of boys and men," according to Katz's co-written web page at http://www.jacksonkatz.com.com.
Shows that teach children positive ideas, such as Sesame Street, are a rarity in children's programming, Gerbner said. Programs like these, most of which are broadcast by PBS, make up about 6 percent of children's television shows. Although Gerbner said the educational programs are great, he also said there aren't enough to balance other kids' shows.
Regardless of educational value, children aren't just watching television programs and movies that were created for them. According to Gerbner's educational movie, The Killing Screens, children are watching more prime-time television, which is geared toward an adult audience and contains about five acts of violence and hour.
Carlos Chapa, a 12-year-old seventh grader from Salt Lake City, said he watches about eight hours of television a week. Among his favorite programs is Comedy Central's South Park, a cartoon where the main characters swear almost every line and at least one person dies each episode.
"It's just cool," Chapa said, "and funny."
This, however, is what Gerbner calls "happy violence." It teaches children (and adults) that violence is silly, fun and entertaining. And when kids see funny, crime-fighting, giant turtles, as in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, they think violence is exciting.
"Ninja Turtles is the single most violent program ever produced," Gerbner said.
Both the movie and the television cartoon, however, show the turtles cracking jokes and fighting crime with their nunchucks, swords and other weapons.
And when programs show violence in a funny way, children are blinded by the harm it can do, said John P. Murray, a professor at Kansas State University. Children who watch programs with lots fighting tend to be more violent than those who don't, Murray said in Teach the Children, an educational film about children and the media.
Gerbner, however, said shows such as He-man, Roadrunner and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles survive because of global marketing. Since violence is cheap to sell around the world -- it looks the same in every language, Gerbner said -- movies and television shows have to have fights and murder to make money.
"Violence is a common ingredient injected into programs because it travels well," Gerbner said.
He called it the "global marketing imperative" because violence is easy to produce and can be used to spice up any program that is becoming a little boring. And when shows become popular, the program isn't enough -- action figures, plastic swords and ninja gear begin to sell out around the country.
From these cartoons, children are learning violence is necessary to be tough, Katz said. Cartoons, however, aren't the only types of media that are telling kids that violence is fun, silly, cool and manly.
• • •
Three, two, one -- action.
The hot iron came crashing through the ceiling onto the robber's unprotected head. He was stunned and burned by the weight and scalding heat. Although the iron left a bubbling imprint on his head and knocked him to the ground, the pain quickly went away. But the robber got up, and continued to prowl around the house. A little boy holding a BB gun at the robber's head giggles at the intruder's shocked face.
Kids get the idea that violence is fun from all different types of media. They see it in television programs, in video games and in movies such as Home Alone, which was released in 1990 and was followed by two sequels. In this show, children are learning that violence is a hilarious way to solve a problem. When Kevin, an 8-year-old, is left alone in his house while his family goes on vacation, two robbers break into his home. Rather than calling the police, Kevin depends on an old gangster movie and the images he has of what a "real man" should be.
Katz, however, said the images the media is sending about what a "real man" should be are wrong. Boys learn from television shows such as G.I. Joe and He-man that men are supposed to have big muscles to fight with, Katz said. As a result, he said boys learn to put up a front that is based on extreme ideas of masculinity. This idea, which Katz called the "tough guise," emphasizes toughness and physical strength.
The media's influence is constantly around -- from infancy to adulthood, Katz said. With this constant exposure, children begin to learn what their roles in society are, he said. Boys learn from muscleman cartoons that "real men" are defined by the strength and size of their bodies. Girls, however, learn that women are expected to be thin and small. When women are smaller in fictional television shows and movies, children begin to see that men are physically stronger, which relates to power, Katz said.
This is a problem, however, that Katz said can be fixed through education. By teaching children that "real men" can also be sensitive, they learn that masculinity isn't just about being physically strong.
"We have to show [young males] that vulnerability, compassion and caring are also part of what it means to be a real man," Katz reported on his web page.
But without this education, children are learning that violence gets people what they want, Katz said. Every day 15 kids are killed by other children in the United States. Although Gerbner said children's programs are more violent than regular television, he also said real world killings probably aren't a result of too much violence in the media.
"If media violence were to lead to violence, we would all be dead," he said.
Instead Gerbner thinks the more serious problem is what he calls the "Mean World Syndrome." From the violence kids see on television and in the movies, they begin to think that the world is a scarier place than it is, according to Gerbner's research.
Gerbner and Katz, however, agreed that parents and schools are capable of educating children about the realities and the myths in the fictional media. Katz said violence on television is expected, and because of this parents don't think about what their children are watching.
"The parents themselves are a product of the media culture," he said. "They think 'I watched Three Stooges as a kid and I didn't go hit people with a hammer.'"
Gerbner, however, said parents can put a hold on the influence television has over their children by encouraging selective viewing. This means changing the roles television and the media play in daily life. Gerbner encourages parents not use television as a reward or take it away for punishment. By doing this, he said parents only teach their children that it isn't important what they watch, but how much they watch.
He also said that parents need to take the battle outside their homes. By demanding schools to teach media literacy, parents are challenging television's role and the power it has over society, Gerbner said in The Killing Screens.
"If it seems impossible, it means it's worth doing," Gerbner said.
February 5, 2001
Part 1: Violence and men
Part 2: Violence and women
By Marcie Young
Hard News Cafe
EDITOR'S NOTE: Children witness between 25 and 30 acts of violence when they watch one hour of cartoons, according to George Gerbner of the Annenberg School of Communication at the University of Pennsylvania. Ninety-nine percent of homes in the United States have a television. Although children watch about 25 hours of television a week, Gerbner said television sets are on for nearly twice that -- seven hours a day. It is from constant exposure to television and movies that make children think the world is a violent and unsafe place, he said.
• • •
Three, two, one -- action.
The coyote tried using bombs to catch the roadrunner. He tried grenades. When those failed him, he turned to guns, dynamite, knives and 10,000-pound weights. Still nothing could help him catch the bird. The bombs exploded while the coyote held them in his hands, the weights smashed his body into the hard desert sand, and the guns fired at point-blank range into his face. The coyote was never injured for more than a few seconds.
In this 33-minute Wiley Coyote and the Roadrunner video there were 59 acts of violence. In Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a popular movie and cartoon in the late 1980s and early 1990s, more than 150 acts of violence filled the screen in an hour. Today video games such as Street Fighter tell children that fighting is a part of life, said Jackson Katz, an anti-violence educator and media analyst.
In his educational film, Tough Guise, Katz said violence is something that television networks and motion picture companies validate through the programs shown and the movies released. He also said the problem isn't something the media alone has created.
"The root of the problem lie à everywhere, deeply embedded in what passes for normal culture -- part of the normal training, conditioning and socializing of boys and men," according to Katz's co-written web page at http://www.jacksonkatz.com.com.
Shows that teach children positive ideas, such as Sesame Street, are a rarity in children's programming, Gerbner said. Programs like these, most of which are broadcast by PBS, make up about 6 percent of children's television shows. Although Gerbner said the educational programs are great, he also said there aren't enough to balance other kids' shows.
Regardless of educational value, children aren't just watching television programs and movies that were created for them. According to Gerbner's educational movie, The Killing Screens, children are watching more prime-time television, which is geared toward an adult audience and contains about five acts of violence and hour.
Carlos Chapa, a 12-year-old seventh grader from Salt Lake City, said he watches about eight hours of television a week. Among his favorite programs is Comedy Central's South Park, a cartoon where the main characters swear almost every line and at least one person dies each episode.
"It's just cool," Chapa said, "and funny."
This, however, is what Gerbner calls "happy violence." It teaches children (and adults) that violence is silly, fun and entertaining. And when kids see funny, crime-fighting, giant turtles, as in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, they think violence is exciting.
"Ninja Turtles is the single most violent program ever produced," Gerbner said.
Both the movie and the television cartoon, however, show the turtles cracking jokes and fighting crime with their nunchucks, swords and other weapons.
And when programs show violence in a funny way, children are blinded by the harm it can do, said John P. Murray, a professor at Kansas State University. Children who watch programs with lots fighting tend to be more violent than those who don't, Murray said in Teach the Children, an educational film about children and the media.
Gerbner, however, said shows such as He-man, Roadrunner and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles survive because of global marketing. Since violence is cheap to sell around the world -- it looks the same in every language, Gerbner said -- movies and television shows have to have fights and murder to make money.
"Violence is a common ingredient injected into programs because it travels well," Gerbner said.
He called it the "global marketing imperative" because violence is easy to produce and can be used to spice up any program that is becoming a little boring. And when shows become popular, the program isn't enough -- action figures, plastic swords and ninja gear begin to sell out around the country.
From these cartoons, children are learning violence is necessary to be tough, Katz said. Cartoons, however, aren't the only types of media that are telling kids that violence is fun, silly, cool and manly.
• • •
Three, two, one -- action.
The hot iron came crashing through the ceiling onto the robber's unprotected head. He was stunned and burned by the weight and scalding heat. Although the iron left a bubbling imprint on his head and knocked him to the ground, the pain quickly went away. But the robber got up, and continued to prowl around the house. A little boy holding a BB gun at the robber's head giggles at the intruder's shocked face.
Kids get the idea that violence is fun from all different types of media. They see it in television programs, in video games and in movies such as Home Alone, which was released in 1990 and was followed by two sequels. In this show, children are learning that violence is a hilarious way to solve a problem. When Kevin, an 8-year-old, is left alone in his house while his family goes on vacation, two robbers break into his home. Rather than calling the police, Kevin depends on an old gangster movie and the images he has of what a "real man" should be.
Katz, however, said the images the media is sending about what a "real man" should be are wrong. Boys learn from television shows such as G.I. Joe and He-man that men are supposed to have big muscles to fight with, Katz said. As a result, he said boys learn to put up a front that is based on extreme ideas of masculinity. This idea, which Katz called the "tough guise," emphasizes toughness and physical strength.
The media's influence is constantly around -- from infancy to adulthood, Katz said. With this constant exposure, children begin to learn what their roles in society are, he said. Boys learn from muscleman cartoons that "real men" are defined by the strength and size of their bodies. Girls, however, learn that women are expected to be thin and small. When women are smaller in fictional television shows and movies, children begin to see that men are physically stronger, which relates to power, Katz said.
This is a problem, however, that Katz said can be fixed through education. By teaching children that "real men" can also be sensitive, they learn that masculinity isn't just about being physically strong.
"We have to show [young males] that vulnerability, compassion and caring are also part of what it means to be a real man," Katz reported on his web page.
But without this education, children are learning that violence gets people what they want, Katz said. Every day 15 kids are killed by other children in the United States. Although Gerbner said children's programs are more violent than regular television, he also said real world killings probably aren't a result of too much violence in the media.
"If media violence were to lead to violence, we would all be dead," he said.
Instead Gerbner thinks the more serious problem is what he calls the "Mean World Syndrome." From the violence kids see on television and in the movies, they begin to think that the world is a scarier place than it is, according to Gerbner's research.
Gerbner and Katz, however, agreed that parents and schools are capable of educating children about the realities and the myths in the fictional media. Katz said violence on television is expected, and because of this parents don't think about what their children are watching.
"The parents themselves are a product of the media culture," he said. "They think 'I watched Three Stooges as a kid and I didn't go hit people with a hammer.'"
Gerbner, however, said parents can put a hold on the influence television has over their children by encouraging selective viewing. This means changing the roles television and the media play in daily life. Gerbner encourages parents not use television as a reward or take it away for punishment. By doing this, he said parents only teach their children that it isn't important what they watch, but how much they watch.
He also said that parents need to take the battle outside their homes. By demanding schools to teach media literacy, parents are challenging television's role and the power it has over society, Gerbner said in The Killing Screens.
"If it seems impossible, it means it's worth doing," Gerbner said.
Movie violence against females is like wallpaper, but if a woman runs amok . . . it means bad things, man
This installment: Violence and women, with some thoughts by George Gerbner, Jackson Katz and two cross-country drivers named Thelma and Louise
Part 3: Violence and children
By Marcie Young
Hard News Cafe
EDITOR'S NOTE: Women are considered a minority group in the United States, even though they make up more than half of the nation's population. As of October 2000, there were nearly 140 million females living in the United States; the number of males was 135 million, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Even though women are the majority, they are twice as likely to be victims of violent and sexualized crimes, said George Gerbner of the Annenberg School of Communication at the University of Pennsylvania. Not only are women abused 50 percent more often than men in the media, they are also outnumbered by men three to one on the big screen and on television, according to Gerbner's educational film, The Killing Screens.
• • •
Three, two, one -- action.
The truck driver flashed a few obscene, sexualized gestures toward the women. That was the first time. The second time the ladies saw the man on the road, he did the same thing. They pulled their baby blue convertible car over, and the trucker followed. He hopped out of the 18-wheeler gas-carrying rig and pursued the women. The women demanded an apology for his crude comments, but the man refused. The women (who had already killed a man, robbed a store and assaulted a cop) didn't like the man's attitude, so they shot holes into the truck's tires. But the man wasn't ready to apologize, and the women weren't ready to give in. Instead of walking away, they shot into the truck's silver center. The truck exploded into mountain-high, red yellow and orange flames.
Thelma and Louise, the 1991 drama that sparked controversy because of its violent nature, contained seven acts of violence in two hours. On the other hand, 2000's Gladiator, which contained nearly 200 acts of violence, received hardly any attention over its bloody deaths and fight scenes.
But Jackson Katz, an anti-violence educator and media analyst, said the lack of attention had nothing to do with either film's content. Instead he said the controversy was based on gender and the roles society thinks men and women should play.
"Male violence is the norm. People don't even question it," Katz said. "But when women act violently, it's talked about."
Katz, co-writer of the educational film Tough Guise, said television programs and movies have created an imbalance between the power males and females have. He said men are supposed to be strong. They are supposed to fight other men and not let women get in the way. Women, however, are not allowed to be violent, Katz said. And it was this idea that helped create the controversy about Thelma and Lousie.
"When men are violent toward women, it is a single act," Katz said. "[But] when women are violent, it reflects the entire group."
Katz said people got worried when they saw Susan Sarandon's character blow up a gas truck and a kill a rapist. Some, mostly men, thought the film would make women think it is OK to be violent, he said. Unlike other violent movies and television shows, the women in Thelma and Louise had reasons for acting violently, Katz said.
"In each case [the women] were fighting back against male abuse," he said.
The fact that Thelma and Louise had to be justified shows that today's movies and television programs send the message that men should be the powerful gender, Katz said. And violence is seen as power, he said. This is a contradiction that encourages men to be violent and women to be submissive.
Although Thelma and Louise sparked controversy about women and violence, Gerbner and Katz said the movie actually empowered women. Gerbner said the movie was negative because of the violence, but he also praised the film for giving women equality in the media.
"[It showed] women can be as bad as anybody," Gerbner said.
Sarandon (Louise) and Geena Davis (Thelma) showed women toughness isn't reserved for men, Gerbner said. He also said, however, that for every violent woman in the movies and on television, 20 other women are the victims of male violence.
• • •
Three, two, one-- action.
The woman dresses in her bedroom. The window, which faces the road, is open and the lights in her private home are on while she changes out of one shirt into another. A man with binoculars sits in his car across the street. He spies on the woman as she throws her shirt on the floor and begins to take off her bra. But the dark-haired man in a polyester button-down shirt is not the only one obsessed with the woman. There are other men who follow her everywhere she goes and watch her every move.
It isn't just in dramas and action movies that make men think they are more powerful than women, Katz said.
Even comedies such as There's Something About Mary send messages encouraging male dominance. The plot for the 1998 box office hit revolved around one woman who was being stalked by half a dozen men. Although Katz said even he enjoyed the film's humor, the story was sending the wrong message to men and to women. If the jokes were taken out of the film, it simply would have been a thriller -- a scary movie about stalkers.
According to the U.S. Department of Justice, 1 million women are stalked every year, and one in 12 women will be stalked in their lifetimes. Even though Hollywood can make an issue like this funny, Katz said people walk away from the film desensitized to violence toward women.
"Men are killing women all over the place in the movies," Katz said. "Is there an outcry about that? No."
In There's Something About Mary, the lead character, played by Cameron Diaz, is a sexy blonde with a killer body. When female victims are seen as sex objects, men are less likely to think about the violence actions, Katz said. Although this movie covers up the violence through sexualized humor, many films make violence seem less severe through sex alone, Katz said.
Sometimes women are tied to a bed in their underwear before they are murdered or raped; other times the women wear clothing that reveals just enough cleavage to make men think about the woman as an object and not a victim.
"Sex blinds many people to the violence," Katz said. "It's another way of normalizing male violence toward women."
Katz said being sexually turned on is a positive feeling, and when violence occurs at the same time, the violence doesn't seem as bad. Because of this connection between physical pleasure and violence toward women, Katz said men who have been exposed to a lot of sexualized violence are less likely to believe a rape victim.
Gerbner, however, said there is a bigger problem when violence is geared toward women. Most people who watch lots of television think the world is a scary place, he said. According to Gerbner's research, this should be a major concern. He said the theory, called the "Mean World Syndrome," increases insecurity about the world.
"The situation is that people feel more insecure, not the need to be violent," Gerbner said.
Both men and women, especially those who watch television for many hours each day, are likely to think the world is a more dangerous place than it actually is. Women, who are twice as likely to be victims of violence than men in the media, think the world is more dangerous than most men, Gerbner said. And since minority women are twice as likely to be victims than white women, the average minority television viewer thinks the world is that much more dangerous, Gerbner said.
Melissa Maranda, a 20-year-old student at the University of Maryland, watches between two and five hours of television a week. Although Maranda isn't considered a heavy television viewer (the national average is more than four hours a day), she said she thinks the world is a dangerous place. It is from television programs, the nightly news and movies that Maranda said she based her ideas about violence in the world.
"I, myself, feel safe," she said, "but the world is not safe."
Although women have been fighting back against the media's images through their roles in politics, business and education, Katz said women are still fighting for equality. With every new television season, women begin to lose power to men.
As men's bodies begin to get bigger, women's bodies continue to shrink, Katz said. Women are expected by society to be thin, whereas men are expected to be muscular, big and more violent.
"The images of women's bodies that have flooded the culture depict women as less threatening," according to Katz's web page at www.jacksonkatz.com. "They're literally taking up less symbolic space."
Women, usually thin and beautiful, are battered and killed on a regular basis by men in movies and television shows. Generally where there is a thin and beautiful woman, there is a 6-foot man with thick muscles standing above her. But Katz said women can help stop these images by rejecting men who think "real men" fit the description of Rambo, Rocky or any other man who depends on physical strength and violence.
"The 'tough guise' is attractive to men in part because they see many girls and women validating it," Katz wrote on his web page. "Girls and women have to show that they're looking for more in men than bad boy posturing."
February 6, 2001
Part 1: Violence and menPart 3: Violence and children
By Marcie Young
Hard News Cafe
EDITOR'S NOTE: Women are considered a minority group in the United States, even though they make up more than half of the nation's population. As of October 2000, there were nearly 140 million females living in the United States; the number of males was 135 million, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Even though women are the majority, they are twice as likely to be victims of violent and sexualized crimes, said George Gerbner of the Annenberg School of Communication at the University of Pennsylvania. Not only are women abused 50 percent more often than men in the media, they are also outnumbered by men three to one on the big screen and on television, according to Gerbner's educational film, The Killing Screens.
• • •
Three, two, one -- action.
The truck driver flashed a few obscene, sexualized gestures toward the women. That was the first time. The second time the ladies saw the man on the road, he did the same thing. They pulled their baby blue convertible car over, and the trucker followed. He hopped out of the 18-wheeler gas-carrying rig and pursued the women. The women demanded an apology for his crude comments, but the man refused. The women (who had already killed a man, robbed a store and assaulted a cop) didn't like the man's attitude, so they shot holes into the truck's tires. But the man wasn't ready to apologize, and the women weren't ready to give in. Instead of walking away, they shot into the truck's silver center. The truck exploded into mountain-high, red yellow and orange flames.
Thelma and Louise, the 1991 drama that sparked controversy because of its violent nature, contained seven acts of violence in two hours. On the other hand, 2000's Gladiator, which contained nearly 200 acts of violence, received hardly any attention over its bloody deaths and fight scenes.
But Jackson Katz, an anti-violence educator and media analyst, said the lack of attention had nothing to do with either film's content. Instead he said the controversy was based on gender and the roles society thinks men and women should play.
"Male violence is the norm. People don't even question it," Katz said. "But when women act violently, it's talked about."
Katz, co-writer of the educational film Tough Guise, said television programs and movies have created an imbalance between the power males and females have. He said men are supposed to be strong. They are supposed to fight other men and not let women get in the way. Women, however, are not allowed to be violent, Katz said. And it was this idea that helped create the controversy about Thelma and Lousie.
"When men are violent toward women, it is a single act," Katz said. "[But] when women are violent, it reflects the entire group."
Katz said people got worried when they saw Susan Sarandon's character blow up a gas truck and a kill a rapist. Some, mostly men, thought the film would make women think it is OK to be violent, he said. Unlike other violent movies and television shows, the women in Thelma and Louise had reasons for acting violently, Katz said.
"In each case [the women] were fighting back against male abuse," he said.
The fact that Thelma and Louise had to be justified shows that today's movies and television programs send the message that men should be the powerful gender, Katz said. And violence is seen as power, he said. This is a contradiction that encourages men to be violent and women to be submissive.
Although Thelma and Louise sparked controversy about women and violence, Gerbner and Katz said the movie actually empowered women. Gerbner said the movie was negative because of the violence, but he also praised the film for giving women equality in the media.
"[It showed] women can be as bad as anybody," Gerbner said.
Sarandon (Louise) and Geena Davis (Thelma) showed women toughness isn't reserved for men, Gerbner said. He also said, however, that for every violent woman in the movies and on television, 20 other women are the victims of male violence.
• • •
Three, two, one-- action.
The woman dresses in her bedroom. The window, which faces the road, is open and the lights in her private home are on while she changes out of one shirt into another. A man with binoculars sits in his car across the street. He spies on the woman as she throws her shirt on the floor and begins to take off her bra. But the dark-haired man in a polyester button-down shirt is not the only one obsessed with the woman. There are other men who follow her everywhere she goes and watch her every move.
It isn't just in dramas and action movies that make men think they are more powerful than women, Katz said.
Even comedies such as There's Something About Mary send messages encouraging male dominance. The plot for the 1998 box office hit revolved around one woman who was being stalked by half a dozen men. Although Katz said even he enjoyed the film's humor, the story was sending the wrong message to men and to women. If the jokes were taken out of the film, it simply would have been a thriller -- a scary movie about stalkers.
According to the U.S. Department of Justice, 1 million women are stalked every year, and one in 12 women will be stalked in their lifetimes. Even though Hollywood can make an issue like this funny, Katz said people walk away from the film desensitized to violence toward women.
"Men are killing women all over the place in the movies," Katz said. "Is there an outcry about that? No."
In There's Something About Mary, the lead character, played by Cameron Diaz, is a sexy blonde with a killer body. When female victims are seen as sex objects, men are less likely to think about the violence actions, Katz said. Although this movie covers up the violence through sexualized humor, many films make violence seem less severe through sex alone, Katz said.
Sometimes women are tied to a bed in their underwear before they are murdered or raped; other times the women wear clothing that reveals just enough cleavage to make men think about the woman as an object and not a victim.
"Sex blinds many people to the violence," Katz said. "It's another way of normalizing male violence toward women."
Katz said being sexually turned on is a positive feeling, and when violence occurs at the same time, the violence doesn't seem as bad. Because of this connection between physical pleasure and violence toward women, Katz said men who have been exposed to a lot of sexualized violence are less likely to believe a rape victim.
Gerbner, however, said there is a bigger problem when violence is geared toward women. Most people who watch lots of television think the world is a scary place, he said. According to Gerbner's research, this should be a major concern. He said the theory, called the "Mean World Syndrome," increases insecurity about the world.
"The situation is that people feel more insecure, not the need to be violent," Gerbner said.
Both men and women, especially those who watch television for many hours each day, are likely to think the world is a more dangerous place than it actually is. Women, who are twice as likely to be victims of violence than men in the media, think the world is more dangerous than most men, Gerbner said. And since minority women are twice as likely to be victims than white women, the average minority television viewer thinks the world is that much more dangerous, Gerbner said.
Melissa Maranda, a 20-year-old student at the University of Maryland, watches between two and five hours of television a week. Although Maranda isn't considered a heavy television viewer (the national average is more than four hours a day), she said she thinks the world is a dangerous place. It is from television programs, the nightly news and movies that Maranda said she based her ideas about violence in the world.
"I, myself, feel safe," she said, "but the world is not safe."
Although women have been fighting back against the media's images through their roles in politics, business and education, Katz said women are still fighting for equality. With every new television season, women begin to lose power to men.
As men's bodies begin to get bigger, women's bodies continue to shrink, Katz said. Women are expected by society to be thin, whereas men are expected to be muscular, big and more violent.
"The images of women's bodies that have flooded the culture depict women as less threatening," according to Katz's web page at www.jacksonkatz.com. "They're literally taking up less symbolic space."
Women, usually thin and beautiful, are battered and killed on a regular basis by men in movies and television shows. Generally where there is a thin and beautiful woman, there is a 6-foot man with thick muscles standing above her. But Katz said women can help stop these images by rejecting men who think "real men" fit the description of Rambo, Rocky or any other man who depends on physical strength and violence.
"The 'tough guise' is attractive to men in part because they see many girls and women validating it," Katz wrote on his web page. "Girls and women have to show that they're looking for more in men than bad boy posturing."
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