Devan Hawkins’ Worthy and Unworthy usefully applies Chomsky’s analysis of the media to the twenty-first century, but could have developed its analysis further, argues Reece Goscinski

Recent years have witnessed a resurgence of long-standing geopolitical tensions and armed conflicts, with the ongoing wars in Ukraine and Palestine serving as stark reminders of the fragility of peace in our present system. Central to our understanding of these events is the role of the media in disseminating information and shaping public opinion.

Devan Hawkins book Worthy and Unworthy: How the Media Reports on Friends and Foes examines how media bias shapes public perception of global events. Through comparative case studies, the book analyses how media outlets prioritise certain stories over others to support domestic geopolitical interests.

Manufacturing Consent

Hawkins’s (pp.4-5) study utilises the theoretical framework of Herman and Chomsky’s Manufacturing Consent (Pantheon Books 1988), an influential text on media analysis in both academic and public discourse since its publication.

Within the book, Herman and Chomsky (1988, p.2) argue the media functions on a propaganda system with an ability to filter information under the influence of ownership, advertising and government pressure. This grants the media great power in shaping public opinion by defining the tone and context of political situations, often serving the interests of domestic power (ibid. p.35).

Hawkins’ (2023, p. 4) framework focuses on the second chapter of this text, ‘Worthy and Unworthy Victims’. Here, Herman and Chomsky argue that the propaganda system reports more extensively and less critically on worthy victims, those oppressed by oppositional states and interests, than on unworthy victims, who are oppressed by the domestic power structures.

Hawkins (pp.1-4) illustrates the strength of Herman and Chomsky’s argument by comparing coverage of two Cold War events between 1948 and 1949: the South Korean Jeju uprising and the Berlin Airlift. Hawkin’s identifies Berlin as receiving more coverage due to a disregard for non-European developments in the conflict at the time, making Berlin a worthy victim in the propaganda system.

This theoretical framework leads Hawkins (2023, pp. 8-10) to the core of his study. The book delves into comparative case studies, analysing New York Times coverage using both qualitative and quantitative approaches to provide a robust dataset that supports Herman and Chomsky’s hypothesis for the twenty-first century.

Naturally, this approach is inherently limited, as Hawkins acknowledges. By focusing solely on the New York Times, the study limits its scope and cannot fully capture the broader conception of a propaganda system, as it focuses on a single, centre-leaning outlet. While the author justifies this choice due to the newspaper’s extensive record, substantial reporting, and alleged balance, it nevertheless partially undermines the study’s alignment with the hypothesis.

Case studies – quantitative vs qualitative approaches

The case studies delve into four types of news stories: protests, dissidents, interventions, and disputes. Within each category, cases are selected for either qualitative or quantitative analysis to test or support Hawkins’ hypothesis. This leads to two broad conclusions regarding media construction of memory and the media’s role in defining political opposition.

In regards to the former, the power of institutions to construct our history and conception of self has been explored academically for many years, most notably in the work of Eric Hobsbawm and Terrence Ranger, The Invention of Tradition (1983). Traditional and conservative forms of history often focus on the history of ‘Great Men’ or, as Foucault in Archaeology of Knowledge (2002, p.8) put it, aims to transform ‘documents into monuments’. This grants the media significant power as part of the ideological state apparatus in shaping a society’s perception of its past, its identity, and its understanding of others.

Hawkins employs this argument in the first section when exploring worthy and unworthy memories. He analyses the number of published articles relating to Gwangju in south Korea (1980), Tiananmen (1989), and Gujarat (2002) over time. While these case studies share similarities in their form of protest, Hawkins (pp.52-3) points out that Tiananmen receives significantly more coverage over time, especially on anniversaries, making it more prominent in the public consciousness. This is particularly notable, as coverage of Gwangju and Gujarat anniversaries decline over time, while coverage of Tiananmen increases. Hawkins argues that this is due to China’s geopolitical positioning relative to South Korea and India. Unlike these countries, which have been allies or supporters of the US, China has become a more prominent adversary in US foreign policy. This makes Tiananmen a reference point for shaping contemporary perceptions of China, which is useful for domestic interests.

In terms of defining political opposition, the book offers numerous qualitative case studies, including Pussy Riot, the Catalan rapper Pablo Hasél, Russia’s intervention in Syria, Saudi Arabia’s intervention in Yemen, the Congo Islands, and the South China Sea. Each case study demonstrates how the media’s coverage aligns with the worthy/unworthy victim hypothesis, considering factors such as language, coverage, and geopolitical positioning.

One notable comparison is between the 2019 protests in Hong Kong and Kashmir, both involving smaller regions resisting increased control by larger, more powerful states. Quantitatively, Hawkins (p.61) notes that the Hong Kong protests received significantly more media coverage, with the New York Times publishing 200 articles in the first three months compared to just 45 for Kashmir.

Furthermore, Hawkins (p.89) observes that the Hong Kong protests were more likely to be framed in terms of human-rights abuses, with articles referencing organisations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch. In contrast, Kashmir protests received less attention and were less frequently linked to human-rights concerns, despite similar comments from these organisations.

Hawkins attributes this disparity partly to the relative novelty of large-scale protests in Hong Kong compared to Kashmir’s history of frequent protests. Ultimately, however, he returns to the worthy/unworthy victim binary, arguing that domestic geopolitical biases, particularly the anti-communist stance, shaped the reporting on these protests.

The exploration of these case studies ultimately supports the book’s hypothesis. Similar to Herman and Chomsky, the text concludes that the designation of worthy and unworthy victims is influenced by a complex interplay of factors, including the profit motives of large media organisations, government pressure, anti-communist sentiment, and advertiser interests. These factors shape media coverage, influence public opinion and the perception of global events.

Conclusions

Whilst Hawkins’s study leads him to these conclusions, and it could be seen as a useful analysis of contemporary media reporting, it does include various limitations. One criticism concerns the choice of using the New York Times as a primary source for assessing the relevance of Manufacturing Consent in the twenty-first century. While the book acknowledges the limitations of this approach, research indicates that social-media platforms like Facebook and YouTube have surpassed print media in news consumption. A more contemporary analysis, incorporating the influence of social media, could provide a more relevant case study for assessing the continued relevance of Manufacturing Consent in the twenty-first century.

Similarly, applying Hawkins’ framework to the modern complexity of media consumption, characterised by algorithmic newsfeeds, twenty-four-hour news cycles, and the proliferation of misinformation, could provide a more insightful understanding of how the propaganda system operates in the digital age, particularly in relation to its impact on the public perception of foreign-policy events.

A further limitation emerges from the theoretical framework itself. While Herman and Chomsky’s framework has undoubtedly been influential, it lacks a more nuanced analysis of the underlying power structures that shape media content, favouring the concept of ‘powerful interests’. Media literacy has become more widespread since the publication of Manufacturing Consent, making the book’s conceptual vagueness compelling and adaptable for both the political left, populist right and conspiracy theorists. This vagueness similarly denies Hawkins coming to a firmer conclusion:

‘Ideology plays an important role as well. Whilst it may not be as intellectual as a commitment to capitalism (although that still matters), there is still certainly an ideological understanding…’ (Hawkins, p.272).

To fully explore the complex dynamics of media power, Hawkins could have taken a more critical approach to Chomsky and Herman’s framework. Their ‘propaganda’ model of the media doesn’t allow for the way class forces, like mass movements, can impact upon the media, and tends to minimise the way in which political and class struggle can change consciousness and challenge the media consensus. Hawkins could have further developed his theoretical framework by utilising either Lenin’s concept of imperialism or Gramsci’s concept of hegemony to develop a broader framework for his hypothesis.

Ultimately, Hawkins’ work serves as a companion piece to Herman and Chomsky’s Manufacturing Consent, reminding us of the media’s power to shape our understanding of the world. By exposing the mechanisms of media bias, the book encourages us to question the narratives we are presented with and to seek out alternative perspectives. As we navigate the increasingly complex and polarised media landscape, it is crucial to remain critical and to demand accountability from those who shape our understanding of the world.