Preservation of culture is key for lower crime
Preface: This was written for The Lumberjack newspaper and NorthernArizonaNews.com as a staff editorial. As such, it's written in such a way that it represents the opinion of the paper and not me as an individual. The included image was not published as part of this editorial.
Technological flotsam.
Never have our cultures been subjected to as many influences as they are today. Public schools have something to do with who people are, but they aren't everything. Families and friends play a fairly significant role, but not for everyone. The big cultural wave-maker for society has crept up on everyone, and its doing more harm than good.
In the '60s and '70s, over-the-air television began to take prevalence in middle-class American homes. In the '80s, television broadened its reach to areas outside of broadcast range with community access TV, now cable. In the '90s, the Internet was introduced, and speeds went from bauds to megabits. And, in the last decade, both TV and the Internet have started to merge together and find their way to our smartphones and tablets.
The last 50 years have seen an enormous spike in mass media consumption.
What else has seen an enormous spike in that time? Incarceration. In the late 1970s, 0.1 percent of the American population was incarcerated. Recently, over 0.5 percent was thrown behind bars, according to Bureau of Justice statistics.
Something had to have changed to cause this rise. The correlation between culture and crime seems to be significant, and mass media certainly affects culture.
Floods of information have been pouring through the Internet lately, and people with this new-found means of communication have caused traditional media outlets to rethink their programming to go with what's most popular and not necessarily what's most important.
Take a good look at the CNN homepage. Earlier this week, headline topics included temper-tantrum survival, iPad prices (still?), and questioning whether or not tattoos should be taboo in the workplace.
This begs the question: How much of this "news" and other information is really relevant to our everyday lives? And how much of this irrelevancy can our cultures handle?
The average American watches at least 4 hours of television per day, according to A.C. Nielsen Co. Factoring in 8 hours of sleep, 8 hours at work, and time spent online, how much time does the average American actually have to live?
The Lumberjack is certainly a form of mass media, and you, our readers, are beloved. Mass media isn't always inherently bad, but remember to take breaths while swimming in this ocean of info we all seem to be drowning in. Big, deep breaths.
America is known world-wide for being the country that has the highest rate of imprisonment. It's even gotten to the point where the government is outsourcing prison management to private companies because it can't handle the burden of nearly 2.5 million prisoners nationwide (as of 2006).
Many have been asking the question of why the incarceration rate has been climbing so rapidly, with quality of education an often cited reason for high crime rates. However, high knowledge doesn't equal high character, despite statistical improvements in education.
Student to teacher ratios have fallen from 17.4 students per teacher in the late '80s to 15.3 students per teacher, according to the American Legislative Exchange Council.
The ALEC also shows that there has been an increase in per-pupil expenditures over the last 30 years: $4,924 in '81-'82 to $9,389 in '06-'07. (Note that these are national figures and don't immediately reflect Arizona's educational budget cuts.)
Higher quality education leads to higher crime rates? Insane.
It really all comes down to deciding what information, be it from school or a screen, is important to us as individuals. Should children grow up with The Wiggles, then Miley Cyrus, then Pregnant 16-Year-Olds, then Glenn Beck? Or should their parents and family be their source of model behavior?
When one allows their reality to be crammed with information, stretched and tugged with opinions, then left hung out to dry momentarily only to be thrown back into the mix, their culture, and sometimes individuality, get buried.
And when one loses their culture and identity, their virtues and moral code can degrade along with them.
It hasn't been proven that overconsumption of media increases crime rates. But if more individuals improve their self-identity, their culture and therefore their virtues by moderating intake of media, it would lead to a generally happier population, one that doesn't have as many criminal compulsions.
Let's try to spend less time clouding our minds with barrages of information and refocus our on individuality, culture, and community. Return to local reality and teach culture and mutual respect over punishment, fear and media-encouraged isolation, for the sake of our societal sanity.
Pro-tip: If you want some real news from CNN, click on "International Edition" in the upper left. Or check out Al Jazeera English.
Let’s Make A Reality – TV Game Show Experience
In the rotting carcass that is the Tropicana Hotel and Casino's convention center, a television studio was constructed, and in the last two and a half months, 98 episodes of TV's newest game show have been taped in it.
The locale for CBS's debut game show, "Let's Make A Deal" with Wayne Brady, happens to be a 15 minute drive from my house. I invited my mother, who had been on the original "Let's Make A Deal" in the '70s, and my grandmother to a taping, one this writer, costumed in a size 18W purple dress and a necktie made of fake pearls, couldn't take pictures of. Regardless, I figured it'd be a fun way to spend a Saturday afternoon while I'm home for winter break.
My mother (left) as a Groucho Marx type characer, and myself as someone with terrible taste.
Registration took about 30 minutes. 163 contestants were ahead of me in line; I was contestant 164. We stood in line under what used to be the slot tournament area. Six pages of paperwork. A quick digital picture. We were led off through the "Player's Deli" and into the empty dining room for "The Soprano's Last Dinner" show. A peppy producer and an assistant waited at the end of the line and asked fast, basic questions about who each person was and what they did for fun and work.
It became obvious at this point that this is where the contestants were selected. To these people, my life as a journalist, photographer, DJ and student was likely to be uninteresting. so I said the best interesting thing I could come up with: "I've been afraid of wearing dresses my whole life, and this is like my coming out day. I want to look good for my favorite B-list celebrity, Wayne Brady." I noticed the assistant writing something on a clipboard, and I hoped it was "#164." The producer quickly passed on the other two in my party.
We were led out to the casino floor and told to wait. I sat at a slot machine and was tempted to put a dollar in, but my mom strongly advised against it, me being 20 and all. 45 minutes had passed since our arrival, and I was getting bored. Once they called us, we were taken across a skybridge to a very strange scene.
Traveling to the next step of the contestant process took us through the Tropicana's aging convention center, which is in the early stages of remodeling. Signs were torn off the wall, tile and carpet ripped up, hotel pools half empty and dirty. "Meeting in Progress" signs stood eerily out of place. Most striking was the room where we were searched, scanned, and checked any and all contraband, including electronics and pocket knives. It was once the main arcade. Signs with Nevada arcade law regarding minors still hanged on the dark purple wall. Leftover flashing lights remained on. "Notice: These machines shut off at 10 PM!" Doors to another pool and swim-up blackjack tables were shrouded in drop-cloths. I could see dying vegetation between them.
I handed over my iPod and keys. My mom's funny horn couldn't go in either. While waiting in line, I talked to one of the guards about the show. According to him, the show had just won a best daytime audience award, and the lowest attended taping was 153 people with a studio capacity of 330. Both surprising. A bouncer waved a metal detector over me, and I waited again, this time in front of the also aging Tropicana Spa. We had been in line at various stages for two and a half hours at this point. My grandmother was looking weary already.
People were sitting across the hallway from us. One was a doctor, another was Mona Lisa. There was a guy with a home-made box of "zonk-free" popcorn as a costume. Everyone knew everyone's name, but no one cared. The interviewer asked for several contestant numbers. Everything was obvious about the nature of this show. Contestants were pre-selected from their brief interview. The woman who had been to nine tapings still had no chance of winning. Only the "zonk-free" popcorn box, green grapes guy and skinny hula dancer did. The guy with an "Obamatized" picture of Drew Carey on his shirt? That was a hit or miss.
We were finally led into the studio area inside a warehouse-style building. The dim audience corridor reminded me of a theme park ride queue; all this waiting, and you can catch glimpses of the brightly-lit studio and hear the people already inside, cheering - anticipation of the fact that you'll be those people soon. A stiff man in black clothing assigned us seats. Back row, two in from the center aisle. At least I got to be on camera when Wayne made his entrance at the top of the show.
The main lights came on, everyone cheered, and a short, skinny dude ran out and began to coach the audience with popular dance tracks and terrible jokes. He stood side-by-side with the floor director throughout the show, prodding us to applause and cheer evermore. During commercial breaks, he would hand out tickets to his own shows at the resort and maintain the fib that anyone could, at any time, be chosen by Brady to make a deal.
Production setup? Six cameras (1 jib), speakers throughout the studio, and plenty of large lights and Colorblasts. Audio and lighting was controlled on the studio floor. Everything was formulaic. B-Roll shots were recorded before the show, and several prize revealings had to be re-taped during breaks. Surprisingly, what was not re-taped was a tease for the "big deal" with Brady and his assistant Jonathan. Wayne: "Do you know what time it is?" Jon: "It's… 4:20?"
We were thanked for our time and sent home. It was sad seeing all the signs and cheap props in a studio trash can - dashed hopes and dreams.
It seems television remains one of those realities that is always brighter than real life. The woman who had been to nine tapings, the discarded signs, and even Wayne Brady's disposition all hinted at disappointment in TV reality. I could tell in the way he talked that he was constantly wondering, "Where is my career going?"
In brief, it was an interesting view into the world of television game shows. I wore a dress in public. My family had a good time; Grandma somehow made it. Even though we didn't win anything, it was still an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.