Media Law in seventh grade
Jan. 30th, 2004 02:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosMy daughters have the day off school so I drove to Lindsay last night to pick them up for the weekend. Traffic was heavy and the trip took an hour longer than usual. When I arrived at 7 p.m. they were hyper, giggling and talking at once all the way home. Marian tested me repeatedly. I had to tell her not to use the F word, and not to make silly noises while Brenna was trying to talk to me. We argued over whether she could use her own money to buy a large bottle of Coke, and we quarrelled about bedtime. She doesn't have a bedtime at home. I told her that house has one set of rules, but the rules here are different.
This morning they were calmer. We went to Eggcetra for brunch. Then we had this amazing conversation.
Three weeks ago 12-year-old Marian emailed me for help on her speech about responsibility of the media in Canada. She knows I have worked in media. I directed her to a couple useful web sites, discussed libel, and gave her several questions to think about. A few days later she emailed me a couple more questions, which I answered inconclusively. I couldn't do more without doing her work for her.
Today at brunch she started talking about several interesting cases of libel she had found written up on the internet: the one in which two British men were fined for printing false information about McDonalds, and one in which Texas cattle ranchers took on Oprah Winfrey. I started to explain how American journalists can get away with more because Canadian libel laws are stricter, putting the burden of proof on the perpetrator rather than the victim. To give an example, I started talking about what would happen if I wrote an article slandering her.
"That isn't slander, Dad," she said. "That's libel."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, you're right..."
"Slander is verbal dissing," chimed in 10-year-old Brenna.
"Libel is published dissing," Marian said.
"I didn't learn about libel until college," I said. "Was this topic assigned to you by your teacher?"
"No, I chose it," Marian said. "We were allowed to choose any topic at all, but there was a list of ideas in case we couldn't think of one. I chose this from the list."
"Do you find it interesting?" I asked.
"Yes. I could have chosen censorship, too."
"What do you think about censorship?" I asked.
"I think the government is too strict," she said. "There's one example that really bugs me. Christian bookstores won't carry P.O.D. recordings because the band has one album cover that looks like it's about Eastern religion, but that's not really what it's about."
"The government didn't do that," I said. "That's the choice of Christian bookstores."
I went on to explain that this is actually freedom of expression, not censorship.
"Christian bookstores should have the freedom to take whatever point of view they want on an issue," I said. "If they don't want to carry a product, they shouldn't be forced to. On the other hand, if they started lobbying the government to ban P.O.D. recordings from being sold anywhere, that would be an attempt at censorship."
"Can you explain what censorship means?" Brenna asked.
I found myself fumbling for words: "It's when people are prevented from expressing themselves."
By then my head was spinning. Simple answers don't come easily to me. I wish my parents, with their keen interest in politics and social issues, had conversed with me this way. They did not. They were more interested in their own opinions than explaining what anything meant.
Of course my family was the one with this cardinal rule: "Don't argue with your mother." And to argue with Father was unthinkable.
Life with my daughters isn't quite as simple. My head is still spinning, but that's my choice. Over brunch, Marian and I negotiated about bedtime, too.
This morning they were calmer. We went to Eggcetra for brunch. Then we had this amazing conversation.
Three weeks ago 12-year-old Marian emailed me for help on her speech about responsibility of the media in Canada. She knows I have worked in media. I directed her to a couple useful web sites, discussed libel, and gave her several questions to think about. A few days later she emailed me a couple more questions, which I answered inconclusively. I couldn't do more without doing her work for her.
Today at brunch she started talking about several interesting cases of libel she had found written up on the internet: the one in which two British men were fined for printing false information about McDonalds, and one in which Texas cattle ranchers took on Oprah Winfrey. I started to explain how American journalists can get away with more because Canadian libel laws are stricter, putting the burden of proof on the perpetrator rather than the victim. To give an example, I started talking about what would happen if I wrote an article slandering her.
"That isn't slander, Dad," she said. "That's libel."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, you're right..."
"Slander is verbal dissing," chimed in 10-year-old Brenna.
"Libel is published dissing," Marian said.
"I didn't learn about libel until college," I said. "Was this topic assigned to you by your teacher?"
"No, I chose it," Marian said. "We were allowed to choose any topic at all, but there was a list of ideas in case we couldn't think of one. I chose this from the list."
"Do you find it interesting?" I asked.
"Yes. I could have chosen censorship, too."
"What do you think about censorship?" I asked.
"I think the government is too strict," she said. "There's one example that really bugs me. Christian bookstores won't carry P.O.D. recordings because the band has one album cover that looks like it's about Eastern religion, but that's not really what it's about."
"The government didn't do that," I said. "That's the choice of Christian bookstores."
I went on to explain that this is actually freedom of expression, not censorship.
"Christian bookstores should have the freedom to take whatever point of view they want on an issue," I said. "If they don't want to carry a product, they shouldn't be forced to. On the other hand, if they started lobbying the government to ban P.O.D. recordings from being sold anywhere, that would be an attempt at censorship."
"Can you explain what censorship means?" Brenna asked.
I found myself fumbling for words: "It's when people are prevented from expressing themselves."
By then my head was spinning. Simple answers don't come easily to me. I wish my parents, with their keen interest in politics and social issues, had conversed with me this way. They did not. They were more interested in their own opinions than explaining what anything meant.
Of course my family was the one with this cardinal rule: "Don't argue with your mother." And to argue with Father was unthinkable.
Life with my daughters isn't quite as simple. My head is still spinning, but that's my choice. Over brunch, Marian and I negotiated about bedtime, too.
