The Curious Case of the Media Literacy Haters

I had plenty of satisfied customers when I taught middle school. A few weren’t so happy, including one or two who fell asleep in class and a parent who once berated me so lustily that a colleague down the hall wondered if someone had been hurt (I guess I had been, a little bit). Mostly, though, things went smoothly. The terrain felt unfamiliar, then, when over the past year I found myself the focus of deep distrust and vehement online condemnation.

Courageous Professional Development— and Backlash

In the fall of 2023, I helped lead educators in a months-long professional development opportunity under the auspices of Courageous Rhode Island. The end goal was for teachers to design learning opportunities that would position their students to "reduce the fear and hate that leads to violence." After one participant posted an insider's "expose" of the experience, online comments decried this government-sponsored brainwashing of American children (the program was supported by the Department of Homeland Security).

Readers characterized me and my colleagues as inept (“The people pushing this stuff are not competent in any traditional education field”), traitorous (“terrifyingly un-American”), and downright repulsive. “Way to ruin my Monday morning,” wrote one queasy reader. “Now I am going to have a sick taste in my mouth all day thinking about the innocent children who cannot get out of the schools.” That the post eliciting these reactions was wildly, extravagantly inaccurate is now beside the point; what interest me are the concerns it surfaced.

Most of the comments adhered to a couple of common themes—that the federal government overreaches and that media literacy programming extinguishes original thought in favor of woke indoctrination. “Chinese-style cultural Red Guard comes to America,” wrote one disgusted reader.

The great, shining irony is that these detractors, in bemoaning state-imposed thought control, appear blind to the inherent goal of media literacy to strengthen the skills of discernment and critique. During our final meeting of the professional development series, the participant who later penned her expose said that, in her view, media literacy education has no place in K-12 education. Current events, she asserted, should never be introduced into the classroom, because the media used to deliver the news is inaccurate (she cited MSN as an example).

And this is the point in the story where I wonder—without any tongue in cheek—aren’t we all sort of after the same thing?

Isn’t everyone in this tale—those of us who delivered the programming, and the mole who unearthed our villainy, and those who commented on the newly unearthed villainy—hoping to equip kids to think for themselves? A proponent of media literacy education would suggest that exposing kids to MSN, or any other source of news, helps them interrogate that media by asking about authorship and purpose and the techniques used to hold the reader or viewer’s attention (see the Media Education Lab’s five key questions of media literacy). While some may fear the effect of exposing children to biased media, proponents of media literacy maintain that it is this exposure—and the practice of then critiquing that media—that positions students to think critically and sniff out bias.

What a frustration to read comment after comment decrying the erosion of independent thought, when those readers were targeting the very programming that, at its core, bolsters such critical thinking. The folks lobbing spitballs at me were the same people who, theoretically, in a less polarized world, one would expect to be the most vocal proponents of the programming they were decrying. So why the profound disconnect between these two camps—those of us delivering the workshop and those eyeing it with suspicion—and what could be done to bridge the gap?

Language as Wedge or Bridge

I tossed out that question to colleagues among the Listen First Coalition last spring and joined several for a discussion. They offered wise counsel: solicit testimonials from former attendees or convene a bipartisan lineup of outside authorities to speak on behalf of media literacy; consider how language can unintentionally provoke in these polarized times; acknowledge the volatility of language when convening a new cohort of learners, and communicate what we mean when we use certain terms.

Respectful of the power of rhetoric to engage or repel, I looked back at the language used by Courageous Rhode Island to advertise its mission—that is, the wording guiding our professional development program. It reads: “Courageous RI, with support from the Department of Homeland Security, works to prevent rising violence and extremism in Rhode Island with authentic and respectful conversation.” This is the vision that originally hooked me, a goal that was well worth my time and talent. But it may have had the opposite effect on those across the political aisle.

Several organizations have recently studied the divisive nature of language, including Braver Angels, who considers “extremism” to be among the very most polarizing words, “likely to alienate a vast number of Americans.” In centering that word, had we in fact antagonized a segment of the population before we even began? “Disinformation” is similarly slippery, evoking censorship among many conservatives. “Speech crimes and censorship have become the norm in the West,” wrote Jonathan Turley on Fox News recently. “A new industry of ‘disinformation’ experts has commoditized censorship, making millions in the targeting and silencing of others.” Glancing back at our promotional language, it would appear that I and my colleagues are perceived to be those experts. “By joining Courageous RI,” read the invitation to apply, “you become part of a vibrant network of educators and librarians who share a common goal: combating disinformation and promoting media literacy and active listening.” 

Should it really have been a surprise, then, given the divisive nature of the wording used to describe some of the most critical objectives of our programming, that one reader summarized our plot as, “Red Guard disinformation charade permeates kindergarten class?” Although our intent was to solicit participants of varied political stripes, and although we took pains throughout the program to support those across the political spectrum, the impact of some of our foundational language may have been to repel. I spent twenty years in classrooms, speaking with children about the balancing act of intent and impact. Now I wonder whether the impact of some of our language was to undermine our noble intent.

In Pursuit of Bridge-Building Language

If so, what to do about it? Might there be ways to promote the important work of media literacy education without unintentionally antagonizing? I think back to a jarring conversation I once had with a woman whom I knew to be concerned about racial intolerance, yet who disoriented me by characterizing the term “anti-racist” as “evil.” I eventually came to see that she understood the term as an attack against people, rather than ideology. I had known the word as a condemnation of racism, while she understood it to denounce other human beings. To her, “anti-racist” was an expression of hatred. 

It strikes me that something similar may have been at play regarding my experience with this professional development program. I signed on to combat extremism, but some understood that fighting stance as an expression of contempt for conservatives. I set out to help students deflect disinformation, and it sounded to some like shielding them from the full spectrum of truth. I aimed to strengthen our democracy, and as far-fetched as it seems to me, some perceived attack.

Maybe we should take a page out of the Prohuman Foundation’s playbook, an organization whose name suggests working toward rather than against something. If we were to do the whole thing over again, could we tweak our messaging to ease the perception of attack and enhance a feeling of collaboration?

PACE recently completed its Civic Language Perceptions Project, which, like Braver Angels, identified terms that land differently on either side of the political aisle. It also identified words that have generally positive connotations, regardless of political orientation, such as “community,” “service,” “belonging,” and “liberty.” Could a tweak to the programming we offered be to focus on what we want of students, rather than what we fight against? Instead of “combating disinformation,” for example, could we employ what PACE calls “bridge-y” language and say we strive to “build a shared community of learners who investigate the origins of their beliefs?” Too wordy? I have faith that a small group of committed media literacy practitioners could huddle up and craft something better.

Some will roll their eyes at the futility of wordsmithing. I get it. But we cannot pretend that political divisiveness is not at play here. We cannot imagine that it is enough to deliver enlightened programming when that programming is perceived as an assault by those who, if we’re being honest, may be in most need of it—at least if we are serious, as I certainly am, about sharpening students’ media literacy skills and helping them curate information in a way that promotes democratic stability. If we are, I think it’s worth further conversation and contemplation about how to help folks across the political spectrum realize these goals.

Closing Thoughts

I am not suggesting the goals of our professional development offering were misplaced. My commitment is unwavering. In suggesting that we find ways to describe our work that avoid triggering words like “extremism” or “disinformation,” I do not presume that the problems these words describe are any less dire. I just suspect that there is room to find some overlap of shared purpose across lines of political divide if we are open to introspection and self-assessment.  

In my book, Learning to Depolarize, I laid out the origins of the Trump-supported campaign against what he called critical race theory in schools. As I suspected would happen, those most aligned with Trump then turned their attention to other aspects of schooling. Race was a weapon of wokeness, and then gender, which bled into SEL, and now media literacy—all are met with derision among those looking for evidence of the liberal attack. I guess that’s some cold comfort—in receiving backlash for this particular media literacy programming, I am among the good company of educators delivering all sorts of learning opportunities that deeply benefit students and yet that are in the political crosshairs.

I could—we all could—bemoan the errant ways of those who post comments critical of our work and take solace instead in our achievements (which would not be hard—see this page of the Courageous RI website for links to the dozens of projects completed by our PD participants). But it doesn’t do anyone any good to mount our high horses and ride righteously away from the detractors.

The Media Education Lab’s fourth key question of media literacy reads, “How might different people interpret the message?” Let’s not be afraid to apply that question to our own work.