This week I enjoyed Stuart Hall’s “Encoding/Decoding” – a piece that offers a lovely continuation of Barthes’s work with semantics. In this article, Hall explores the relationship between encoding and decoding messages and explains how television audiences interpret television in their own ways, in ways that are either similar to or different from that of the producers. When the decoder reads the message as the encoder intended it, the encoder (the television producer, in the case) has been successful. If there is a “misunderstanding,” Hall says that it results from a lack of equivalence between the encoder and decoder.
The source of miscommunication is language itself, or more precisely, its codes. Words are elusive by nature; their “meaning” hinges on “dictionary definitions” that are shared by most people (denotation) as well as on connotation, the more personalized meaning people apply to words. Hall cites an by Barthes that illustrates the difference between denotation and connotation. According to Barthes, the denotation of sweater is always “a warm garment.” However, its connotation(s) may vary. To one person, a sweater can signal the approach of cold weather; to another, it may be more closely associated with working in retail, or with Mr. Rodgers, or with walks in the park. The list of connotations could go on and on, but the key words in understanding language (as well as Barthes) are “signal” and “sign.”
Television producers often assume that certain words and visuals are understood by all. “Simple visual signs appear to have achieved a ‘near-universality’ in this sense,” Hall writes, “though evidence remains that even apparently ‘natural’ visual codes are culture-specific.” Therefore, when television producers employ images that they believe are naturally recognizable, they are not, as Hall points out, natural. Instead, these images (and their multiple “meanings”) remind us of NEAR-universality of such images. Meaning is never fixed, even when it may appear to be set in stone.
Television is relatively fixed on the denotative level, but its connotative level is much more open. Therefore, audiences are more likely to interpret messages (or decode) in a way that may be unsatisfactory to the encoder (the television producer). Still, there are still some restrictions on connotations; otherwise, audiences could “see” or decode absolutely anything from Television Show X, when it is completely NOT concerned with Y. Imagine, for example, someone watching Dallas and saying that it was “really about” Heinz Ketchup. As a literature major, I would never want to discourage interpretation. I’ve had plenty of experiences where people have shrugged off my own readings (“What the heck do horror movies have to do with feces? Kate, you’re a sicko.”). However, my readings were based on theory, research, and close reading. The message I read was informed by applicable material. THERE MUST BE a limit to connotations and therefore to understanding, or to our making of meaning.
Hall continues by explaining that there are three “relationships” between encoders and decoders, and therefore three ways that decoding can be made. First, there is the dominant-hegemonic position, in which the television viewer takes the connoted meaning of the television program and decodes it in accordance with its intended meaning. In this case, the view is said to be “operating inside the dominant code,” as it is reading and encoding along the same lines as the television producer (decoder). Secondly, there exists the negotiated position, where the majority of the audience understand most of what has been defined and signified in the television program. In this position, the definitions set forth by the encoder express dominant or global issues; the decoder adapts to these dominant meanings while also adjusting the global issues to a local condition. Consequently, this position is both in accordance with and in opposition to the encoder. The last relationship that Hall proposes is the oppositional code. In this position, the decoder reads the preferred code or message and reconfigures it with an alternative code. The oppositional decoder would be someone who reads a story on taxation and substitutes the phrase “national interest” with “class interest.” In this last relationship, the meaning as it was originally encoded is completely dismantled and received in a new format.
Guy Debord’s “The Commodity as Spectacle” is a nice follow-up to McLuhan’s “The Medium is the Message.” While McLuhan stated that the medium is a vehicle for the transportation of the message, Debord seems to be saying that there IS no message, and that only spectacle and show exist.
When I last met with Dr. Arnzen to discuss McLuhan’s piece, he told me that whenever he reads the word “media,” he replaces it with words like, “fireworks” or “spectacle.” As I read this selection from Debord’s Society of the Spectacle, I substituted words like “media” and “fireworks” whenever I saw “spectacle.” Doing so helped me to focus my understanding of Debord’s piece as a critique of media, and specifically of advertising.
What is the purpose of fireworks? They don’t accomplish much of anything – people just hang around outside, stuffing their mouths with picnic food while watching the sparkling lights. People observe media in the same way, often looking at but rarely observing and scrutinizing the spectacle before them.
The spectacle becomes a stand-in for real life. As the spectacle gains dominance (through television, radio, film, and print), people begin to flock to and accept it simply because it is ever present. Repetition is powerful, and after making multiple appearances, a spectacle wins over its audience that believes, “that which appears is good, that which is good appears.”
The more viewing a spectacle receives, the more power it gains. People idolize that which they see on television and often seek to recreate televised fantasies in their real lives. Television is an illusion of reality, but after so much exposure, we begin to see television AS REALITY, and we consequently shape our lives after television. The attractive, slender actresses that appear on television shows have achieved such a look with certain lighting and film tricks… but if you poll a group of teenage girls, they will probably express to you their desire to look like Hollywood Actress A or B. The power of the celebrity image as projected on film and television is particularly evident when you research the growing number of people who are seeking plastic surgeons and demanding that their facial features be reworked to resemble those of George Clooney or Julia Roberts.
Because of spectacle, life ceases to be life and instead becomes a mere representation. The spectacle draws people further away from the essence or reality of an object and brings them closer to an illusion. Such illusion makes it easy for people to lust after products, to develop consumption fetishism, and to forget the production process. Thus, products are not made – they are merely sought and owned – and Debord feared that in a spectacle-driven society, people lose their connection to their creative genius and power. Instead of actively producing life through their own intelligence and ability, people buy their lives.
People buy happiness in hundreds of ways. We might go out for dinner with friends, or perhaps we’ll treat ourselves to a movie to ease our minds. Happiness might come in the form of a shopping trip, or in the shape of a recently purchased CD. Advertisements target our need to achieve happiness through purchase; they make false claims that the product ensures happiness or the easing of some ailment. Single and unable to get a date? The smiling couple in the toothpaste commercial tells you that the guys/gals will love you if you brush your teeth with Crest. McDonald’s latest ad campaign promises you just about anything you might desire. “I’m lovin’ it.” Loving what? The smell of grease in the dirty restaurant? The french fries? The fat clogging your arteries? The fact that your children will entertain themselves in Playland while you savor your coffee? This ambiguous catch phrase promises satisfaction to any and all possible desires one can associate with the McDonald’s experience.
And yet, the slogan is not about McDonald’s at all. It says nothing about the food products, or of the convenient location, or of the restaurant’s facilities. The slogan is about the consumer’s satisfaction, or their own “love” for the McDonald’s experience. But the consumer will not actively pursue such happiness; they’ll just flock to McDonald’s because perhaps they once ate a Big Mac that satisfied their hunger.
According to Debord, spectacle threatens human intelligence and ability by brainwashing people with powerful images of products. The repeated images gain significance and power as entities independent of human touch, and people forget their own role in production and development of material goods. As a result, the good is worshipped and the power of the human hand and mind is forgotten.
I’ve recently discovered the best (or worst) way to deter future educators from the world of teaching:
Read blogs.
I’ve read Mike Arnzen’s Pedablogue since its beginning, but I recently started skimming the education blogs linked in his blogroll, and from those links, I’ve visited more and more blog sites.
Gosh. If you ever wanted a glimpse into the world of teaching, surfing blogs is the way to do it.
Most of the edublogs I’ve come across are engaging, insightful, and… down-right horrifying. While the blogs maintained by professors and teachers who disclose their identity can deliver a harsh dose of teaching reality, the write-ups by anonymous professors are far more honest. And scathing. And entirely intimidating.
While reading these blogs has caused me to doubt the profession I’ve chosen to follow, I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement. Now that I’ve discovered the wondrous world of education weblogs, I’m hooked! After reading one crazy teaching encounter, I can't help searching for another. I’m horrified by but also drawn to them. I’ve had a few scary teaching/tutoring experiences of my own, but I’m always shocked to learn what other (potential?) problems await me.
I’m not an education major, but I feel I’ve been studying and preparing for my role as a teacher since my freshman year of college, when I first realized I wanted to do the whole teaching thing. I’ve been critiquing my professors along the way while maintaining a watchful eye over my fellow students and their devious behavior. In addition to observing classroom dynamics, I’ve been lucky enough to have experience working in my campus’ Writing Center, where I have had tremendous opportunities working with students. Normally, a typical WC session focuses on discussing the student’s writing/writing process and how we can make it better, but sometimes, these “academic” one-on-one sessions lead to more personal topics. In just three years, I’ve received a TON of experience dealing with all sorts of issues, many of which did not pertain to writing.
Teaching is complicated business. It’s not just about relaying the course material to students in the most accessible manner. Teaching is more often about learning than teaching. Before you can teach, you need to learn from those you’re teaching. Then, once you’ve assessed the situation(s), proceed with caution.
Anyway, wish me luck. Next week, I’m leading a workshop on research methods and note-taking strategies for a first-year composition class. How does one excite a bunch of apathetic freshmen about the research process? This is just one of many challenges that I will encounter down the road.