Spurred by a movie trailer, I recently reread Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot. The collection of stories follows humankind as it grows dependent on robot utility. (The book is closer to Columbo with robots than Men In Black with robots, and appears to have fewer things exploding, but that’s for another post.)

The book stands as a clear explanation of irrational fear of machine culture. It reminded me of my checking account.

Most every first-world citizen experiences modern electronic banking. Take a plastic card to a hole in a wall and get currency. Take the same plastic card to a supermarket, and go home with groceries.

Workers quickly get used to directly-deposited paychecks and electronic bill payment.

This is what circuit-brains are for: to make everyday tasks easier so we can concentrate on the big ideas (like making more computers…).

Yet, I haven’t put my checking account entirely in the automaton’s control. I try to explain it with human failings – I want to control when bills are paid, or I don’t trust them to have account access.

But deep down I know that the computers balance my checkbook better than I ever could, and the fear of human fraud is slim.

For example, take bill payments. I trust the Department of Education to take student loan payments from my account. I trust the insurance company to deduct auto insurance payments. I prefer to control when I make payments on cellular phone or cable service, even though I could have these transactions handled without my interference.

Why the difference? Am I less prone to fraud if the federal government has my account numbers, but not Cingular? I doubt it.

I think I’m, naturally, a bit uncomfortable with the deus ex machina. I distrust the First Law of Robotics: A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Surely a computer wouldn’t expose me to identity theft.

Of course, our machines don’t have consciousness (yet). But programmers don’t build malice into them either. And I can just about guarantee that the servers on which my checking account reside won’t develop subtle strategies against my financial success.

So, how does one learn to stop worrying and love the machine? As the book suggests, I think it’s inevitable, and will happen without humans being fully conscious of the trend.

Don’t worry; The computers know what’s best. And they’ll steer us in that direction without letting on, so as not to alarm us by letting humans know they really are superior.

Millionaire Jack Ryan dropped out of the race for Peter Fitzgerald’s Illinois Senate seat on Friday. Ryan, a Republican and self-styled “fresh face” in Illinois politics, succumbed to a firestorm stemming from his divorce with actress Jeri Ryan.

The, um, unsavory allegations involved sketchy clubs in which most politicians would rather not appear. The Chicago Tribune and WLS, a TV station in Chicago, sued for the records’ release in California, the state in which the Ryans filed for divorce.

Jack Ryan, his ex-wife stated in the unsealed court papers, took the actress to sex clubs, and even tried to convince her to have exhibitory sex.

The documents led to his campaign’s undoing, after he had told party higher-ups that the documents’ contents were nothing to worry about.

Did the media do the right thing? That’s a tough call; it probably depends on with whom you speak.

For context, take a look at this story. District Judge Donald Thompson, who presides in Oklahoma, stands accused of allegations that are, arguably, equally embarrassing. A court reporter and other witnesses claim Thompson masturbated using a penis pump while on the bench.

Both cases center on sex. The material of both is usually relegated to snickers and whispers – except in cases that involve prominent public figures.

In the Ryans’ case, though the events are said to have happened in public, the only record of them appears in divorce papers. Those touched by divorce know that it can flare tempers on both sides. I’m not saying that Jeri Ryan lied in the divorce proceedings. But divorce is an ugly end to the life shared by two people, and couples going through divorce do not behave with broadcast public consumption in mind. Nor should we expect them to.

In Thompson’s example, several witnesses, including his secretary and a court reporter (both fired by Thompson after cooperating with the investigation into his behavior), attest to the allegations. His conduct, if proven, occurred in public, on the job and on the tax-payer’s payroll.

Is there a black-and-white public/private criterion for coverage of such allegations? No. Recent precedents include candidate Gary Hart in 1988, President Bill Clinton in 1992 and 1998, and Mayor Rudy Giuliani in 2000. Each instance saw political figures weather private scandals in public. Each politician handled it differently, with varying rates of political survival. Ryan seems closer to Hart than Giuliani or Clinton.

I don’t doubt that such events demand case-by-case analysis by reporters and editors. But, the more I read of the Ryan case, the more I question the wisdom of splashing his private life before voters. Were Ryan’s alleged transgressions germane to the office he sought. I don’t think so. Will the 24/7 media coverage of them emotionally scar the Ryans’ nine-year-old son? I’d bet on it. Do Illinois voters, after this intense week, know more about the issues at stake in that election? I doubt it.

Can the damage be undone? No.

It seems easier and easier for clouds to weigh on editorial decisions in the modern, pervasive media, pushing news organizations away from honorable and respectful choices.

Postscript: Slate reports that Jack Ryan’s 1999 request to seal the divorce records was originally denied. A year later, an overzealous stalker fan of Seven of Nine (Jeri Ryan’s Star Trek: Voyager personae) led a judge to agree with Jack Ryan that the records should be sealed to protect his ex-wife.

A recent post at Jay Rosen’s PressThink included a passage about self-described moderates in newsrooms. Their attitude represents a “professional ideology – newsroom religion, if you will – and it has no single name. Objectivity is one way of putting it, detachment another, professionalism a third.”

Rosen based his religious observation of a Pew Research Center survey (which I’ve written about previously). The survey found that a good majority of journalists call themselves “moderate” – many more than the general U.S. population.

The analogy of journalism to religion is not new. But it allows for a frame to discuss the press, and another set of analogies to help guide practitioners of the faith.

Objectivity, detachment and professionalism. In addition to those names Rosen gives this culture of faith, I’d add the journalist’s commitment to truth and fairness.

These serve as tenets of the journalistic faith.

Like all faiths, rewards follow sacrifice. Journalists attempt to excise biases, work toward a healthy skepticism, accurately relate events and watchdog the public good. A reporter or an editor, at least mentally, gives up parts of himself in dedication to these tasks.

For example, newsroom employees at the company I work for must disclose their investments, if asked. I understand the practice is common. Suppose a reporter works on a story that focuses on Disney. If she owns stock, she sacrifices privacy to pay the reader a debt of fairness in disclosing that stock.

Consider the basis of U.S. law: the Constitution and Bill of Rights. Many news organization ask their employees to effectively give up the First Amendment right of petition. We do so, knowing that the right of the press in the same amendment has greater weight for this profession.

Reward for these sacrifices and others comes in arming the news consumer with information. Bylines and small notoriety feed the ego. However, information can live on outside the bounds of a news page or broadcast – and the journalist’s control – and grow into a force that effects change.

The same Pew survey found that about six in ten newsroom employees see cash pressuring the baseline tenets of the profession. And that, among national journalists, a majority of senior editors and reporters – regardless of medium – see the profession as headed in the wrong direction.

Rosen, I think correctly, points out a crisis of faith among journalists. How, exactly does one keep the faith?

These suggestions, though in my own words, are not my own. They are sprinkles of journalistic holy water that I’ve sponged up, and found useful.

• Change perspective. Learn to see events from the eyes of others – the devil’s advocate, if you will. It rounds out a journalist’s perspective, and helps her ask better questions.

• Live with style and grammar. Using a grammar and stylebook shows discipline. Stylebooks and grammars help journalists accurately and reliably relate events; they are evolving scriptures.
• Cultivate curiosity. Have a strong interest in the world, and what’s happening in it. Ask questions.
• Record everything. Filtering separates journalists from stenographers. Journalists touch each story with subtle interpretations of events. This means that sometimes we get it wrong. Take copious notes. Use a voice recorder. Catalog interviews religiously. With computers, there’s no excuse. Perfecting the inner information pack-rat protects both journalists and their sources from unfaithful characterizations.
• Divert passion. Follow the true believer’s path through this profession, but find a hobby. Burnout breeds mistakes. Take up fishing. Buy a kayak. Knit. Collect stamps. Whatever.

Journalists have the power to stem the crisis of confidence shown in the Pew survey. Rededication to the fundamentals, like those I’ve suggested, sets us on the right path to that goal.

This country wants and needs a hero.

That conclusion’s not a far jump from the movie seat I sat in for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. It wasn’t the movie, though; it was the trailers. Each of them drew from the hero archetype: Catwoman, The Incredibles, Spiderman 2, even The Polar Express (an upcoming Santa Claus movie). Each of them played to a basic human need for the righteous, the powerful.

Each of them offered a solution.

Colossal bad guy? No problemo. World in crisis? To the rescue! Weight of the world crushing down? Pay $8 to see you friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

Now, I’m not saying we should each act an island unto ourselves. I’m a big Sam Raimi fan, and I’ll stand in line with my fistful of dollars like 20 million other Americans on June 30.

But, it is interesting how Hollywood responds to the pangs of our times.

It just keeps coming over the horizon.

I’ve written a bit in recent posts about the concept of documents changing. Making computer screens more like paper, and paper more like computer screens, turns that concept inside out.

The idea of digital paper has circulated for some time, but I hadn’t seen prototypes.

Thanks to Cyberjournalist.net for the link.

The foundation of all U.S. law is now available for the iPod.

The Founding Fathers showed all kinds of foresight. Their ideas show in the messy-but-functional republic the United States has grown into.

Unfortunately, I can’t attribute to their vision the fact that the Constitution and Bill of Rights work well in pocket format. It’s just the way they’re organized, with short numbered articles and amendments.

Small Pieces Loosely Joined by David Weinberger plays at theories of the Web. The landscape of the Web, it posits, has no grid and thus no distance. We know this intuitively from surfing; it’s no more a trip to visit a site in Congo or Japan or the United States.

What does this mean for journalism?

For one, it levels the playing field. If all things and ideas sit easily within the consumer’s reach, she chooses the one best suited for the task at hand (within the realm of awareness – new resources appear all the time). This leveled field means sites such as Talking Points Memo, with modest resources, can often set the agenda for TV and newspaper organizations, which arguably haven’t transitioned well to Web distribution.

But the Web also frees journalists to dedicate more resources to recording and storing facts, opinions and other information – provided publishers see the value and reinvest the savings. I don’t think they have a choice; it’s instrumental in creating vitality for this profession as it goes increasingly digital.

Think about it. A key difference between a television broadcast or newspaper, traditional channels for information, and the Web is the hyperlink. Hyperlinks move the value of information from brand to document. For example, I turn to this document on the Washington Post Web site most often. I go there because it has information I want, a list of DVD new releases, not because it has a Post flag across the top. I barely register it (or the banner ads, for that matter). When I look for news on the Web, a site has it in a manner in which I understand, or I go elsewhere.

This is tough for marketers, and also a reason why domains such as news.com, in which brand and document meet, are greedily coveted.

In addition to the added utility of hyperlinks, the Web has a low bar for entry. A modest professional site can cost hundreds. A quick-and-dirty way to move information is free if you have a computer and a 10-page HTML primer. In theory, such a rudimentary source of information could prove just as useful as a fat, wire-fed behemoth like topix.net.

It all depends on the perceived value of the document sought.

The Web is an amalgam of documents, whether text, video or audio. Documents deliver information. It’s more important than ever that journalists insist on proper accounting of that information, and the continued creation of it.

Well-branded news Web sites, gussied up with interactive bells and whistles, are great. But a site is worthless with if people don’t give it credence by reading and linking to it.

Investing in richly sourced, researched and written information is the best way to ensure that happens.

Thunderstorms (ugly, central Florida “lightning alley” ones) had me searching the Web, and I found this commentary by Dorothy Allison at In These Times. The conversational approach made for good reading, though I’m far from her target audience.

One of her ideas struck me:

“Yet, I also know that that voice saying ‘They owe me’ is the most dangerous bone in my body. It is a part of me that I have to resist. It is a bone I cannot stand on, feel or shape.”

Okay, so she mixes her metaphor. Still, there’s wisdom there.

Quite busy.

Night jobs sometimes eat more time than you expect. Trial licenses of newsreader software lapse. Before you know it, you haven’t blogged in a while.

But, returning feels good.

As the Ronald Reagan blow-out continues, I thought I’d remind readers that the world presses on.

• Events at Tiananmen had an anniversary. It’s a good time to take another look, particularly as the BBC reports Chinese protests have grown.
• Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez can expect a recall referendum this August. His populism has the nerves of string-pullers in that country – the fifth largest oil producer – unraveling.
• Closer to home, control of the Senate doesn’t seem so set in stone anymore. Of course, politics is always fuzzy logic.

Anyway, news consumers out there should be grateful for the break in presidential campaigning offered by Reagan’s passing. I have my criticisms, but I do salute anyone with the cajones to lead this nutty country of ours.

It’s been five years since the posting of the Cluetrain Manifesto to the Web’s door. One of the co-authors, David Weinberger, writes on it here.

Weinberger writes that the ideas in that document were ambient. The authors didn’t create them; they were there waiting for expression.

But, ideas they were, and no less revolutionary.

In media, the impact of those ideas shows.

Cluetrain #12: “There are no secrets. The networked market knows more than companies do about their own products. And whether the news is good or bad, they tell everyone.”

Staid outlets found a surprise recently when 18-year-old college student Brian Stelter scooped them on revealing the upcoming CNN broadband feed. He’s not a journalist; he’s a college student who blogs under the name Cablenewser.

Cluetrain #39: “The community of discourse is the market.”

Witness Goskokie. The site bills itself as “news for the people, by the people,” and its an experiment by a group of Medill students. It features open, publicly accessible Weblogs where visitors can post community news and photos.

Cluetrain #68: “The inflated self-important jargon you sling around – in the press, at your conferences – what’s that got to do with us?”

The natural language of blogs such as Back to Iraq, Talking Points Memo and Daily Howler helps both define and declare their audiences. And many of them now have 24-hour hit totals that exceed the circulation of a medium-sized local daily. I’m not saying we should throw out our grammars and cast off the twin yokes of style books and fairness. What I am saying is media should follow the advice in those books: Keep it simple and natural. Transparency and fairness will follow.

Cluetrain #84: To traditional corporations, networked conversations may appear confused, may sound confusing. But we are organizing faster than they are. We have better tools, more new ideas, no rules to slow us down.

The Web is less perfect than printed or broadcast media. That flows from its organic nature. In lieu of a static, one-time snapshot of events, we now have dynamic evolving accounts from a thousand angles. That idea, perhaps reflexively, threatens the fact-advocate sensibilities of many journalists.

As Goskokie shows, one possible future for disseminati lies in the moderation and management of conversations. There are many others.

A place for a factual conscience persists in new modes of media. The tools are the same, though the angle at which they are held may change slightly.