Lately, I’ve been pondering the nature of reality.
No, I’m not taking a post-graduate philosophy course nor am I suffering through some type of midlife crisis (I did that about 10 years ago).
Rather, I’ve been wondering how people arrive at their conception of reality and how my business (the media) influences it. As usual in my columns, I’m talking mostly about Harrisburg here, though I suppose this theme could apply to many other communities and things.
When I moved here, I found Harrisburg to be a genial, if somewhat neglected, place. It was generally attractive to walk around, had some nice architecture, decent enough places to eat, a pretty Capitol building. It reminded me of some other urban neighborhoods I had lived in: great bones, nascent redevelopment, a smattering of typical inner-city woes.
Other than the city’s burgeoning financial crisis—which really was a unique problem—I didn’t see Harrisburg much differently than other East Coast cities, though it was a good deal smaller.
So, I was pretty shocked to learn that not everyone agreed with my assessment of this mostly pleasant place. In fact, many people disagreed—emphatically. They disagreed often and passionately and without hesitation.
I remember vividly a couple years back, when, in response to a rather innocuous post on TheBurg’s Facebook page about a downtown restaurant, someone wrote that he was surprised I didn’t fear for my safety.
How did this happen? I wondered. How was it that this quaint, if flawed, little city could stir such negative emotions among so many, particularly those who lived in the suburbs?
Now, I understand that Harrisburg isn’t for everyone. It can be a challenging place to live, especially with the sometimes-spotty (though sometimes-good) service delivery and subpar infrastructure. But the level of contempt and fear that I found on message boards or just in casual conversation surprised me.
I suppose there are several reasons for this. First of all, Harrisburg, as I understand it, was once in pretty desperate shape. The 1960s and ‘70s hit all cities hard, and Harrisburg suffered more than most, with severe flooding adding to the usual list of deindustrialization, white flight, rising crime, racism and blight. A couple generations later, this legacy lingers.
Secondly, the city’s government has been badly mismanaged, and that’s had an impact. The worst abuses, though, have only come to light in recent years. It wasn’t too long ago that Steve Reed was touted as one of the best mayors in the country.
And, thirdly, let’s face it: the Harrisburg area can be pretty provincial and racially divided. There are people who seem to relish bashing the city for their own personal reasons, even if they have little firsthand experience of life here.
Mostly, though, I blame my industry, the media. The media didn’t cause this misperception of Harrisburg, but it certainly has fed and done little to correct it.
Sure, the media has to report bad news; that’s part of its job. But another vital part of its job is this: it should reflect reality.
Too often, media presents a fictional version of life in Harrisburg, and perpetuating a fiction is one of the worst things a news organization can do.
You want to know what life is like in Harrisburg? For the most part, it’s pretty dull. Speaking personally, I walk to work, get lunch, walk home, repeat. On weekends, I do some yard work, try to eat at a good restaurant or two, and venture over to Broad Street Market, City Island and a few other places I like.
My life isn’t a lot different from that of your average suburbanite, with a few exceptions. I certainly walk a lot more and have quick, easy access to some of the area’s best cafés, bars, restaurants and entertainment. I also like to run along the river and at Italian Lake. To me, these are the things that make city life special, and they’re why I choose to live here.
Believe it or not, I spend almost no time worrying about crime, thinking about parking meters or dodging bullets from gun-toting state legislators.
But you wouldn’t know that from reading the front page of the Patriot-News or watching the evening news broadcast. Sure, I understand—how do you make a newscast out of a guy strolling over to Yellow Bird Café for a breakfast sandwich?
The constant drumbeat of bad news, though, has consequences, a terrible effect on the well-being of Harrisburg and its people. Taken in total, this coverage creates a fiction—a fanciful representation of life in this city. People who don’t live here then believe that falsehood, accept it as reality, and act on it as if it were true.
Recently, one downtown restaurateur told me that parking rate hikes haven’t much affected his business, but that he gets calls often from customers who worry for their safety. They want an assurance they won’t get mugged walking the 10 feet from their parking spot on the street into his restaurant. Where do you think that irrational fear comes from?
TheBurg tries to be a counterpoint, a magazine more interested in representing life than in sensationalizing it. We think it’s a more responsible approach, but we also believe that should be the mission of any news organization. Don’t lie to your readers—not just in the facts of an individual story, but in the bigger picture that your reporting, editing and design, taken together, create.
Most newsrooms operate on a daily timeframe, pumping out an article or news segment on a tight deadline. Their focus is on a few stories that single day, and they try to make sure that that they’re reasonably accurate. But there’s little recognition of the cumulative effect of so many stories, spanning a long period of time.
Unrelenting bad news, especially when it’s routinely reported breathlessly, can be destructive to a community and, worse yet, present an untrue picture of what life is like. It’s a fiction, and, in the case of Harrisburg, one that is widely believed and has proven to be profoundly harmful.
Lawrance Binda is editor-in-chief of TheBurg.
