Here’s a flagrant newswriting contradiction. News managers like to assume that we write stories for an audience with an 8th grade education. They talk about “lowest common denominators” and warn us not to write over the viewer’s head.

Then these same guardians of journalism tolerate scripts with stuff like “Basque Separatists”, “Negative GDP” or “The Faith-Based Initiative” in them. It seems to be perfectly OK to assume that all those 8th graders know all about world conflicts, macroeconomics and Bush politics.

Both assumptions are wrong.

Our audience has many different levels of education and intelligence. Mensa members tune in. So do illiterates. Lumping them together into a mass of junior high school brains is unfair. Besides, even if many viewers do have limited schooling, it’s wrong to think of them only as a bunch of poorly educated people. That’s one step away from thinking of them as stupid, and a step away from feeling contempt for them. It is absolutely the worst frame of mind for any writer about to sit down and tell his story.

The key to communicating news is the “best friend test”. Every story should sound like you’re talking to your best friend. When you share news with your best buddy, do you automatically assume he’s not smart enough to understand you? Do you censor yourself and switch to childlike elementary English? Do you talk down to him? Do you say to yourself, “Well, he never finished high school, so let me use just ‘baby’ words”? Of course you don’t. You give it to him straight and clear, because you respect and care about him.

We need to feel the same way about the “buddies” watching us on TV, be they dropouts or Ph.D’s. Remember why they showed up. They’re eager to hear what’s going on, and they’ve decided to trust you to tell them. Take that trust seriously. Strong, well-crafted and conversational English is a delight to hear, and rewards a viewer’s trust. “Lowest common denominator” thinking and “dumbing down” a script abuse that trust, and insult people.

However, it’s equally wrong to get careless, and neglect our duty to explain what needs to be explained. Every story has a background and a context, and we shouldn’t assume every viewer is familiar with them. This is not the same as guessing the education level of the folks watching. Even a college graduate doesn’t know every facet of every story, so we shouldn’t use shorthand terms that assume he does.

Take “Basque Separatist” for example. How many Americans, at any level of education, really know what that means? Perhaps, if they pulled out an atlas and pondered it for awhile, they could figure it out. But it is by no means an automatically recognized and understood term. Yet time after time, in stories about this or that violent attack in Spain, writers parrot the wires and say, “Police suspect Basque separatists!” Would it be so difficult to take a few extra words and say something like, “rebels fighting for an independent state in Northern Spain”?

We toss around so many of those weighty phrases, mostly out of habit or imitation. As newspeople, we’re comfortable with the shorthand, but who says our audience is? Do they really know that “hazmat” is a contraction of “hazardous materials”? Do they really grasp every political buzzword, or shouldn’t we take a moment to clarify what a “faith-based initiative” is?

That’s the difference between “dumbing DOWN” and “clearing UP”. Making a commitment to explain complicated terms, making sure they’re understood, leaving no doubt that the meaning is unambiguous, that’s “clearing up”. When you clear things UP, you insult no one’s intelligence. You show respect, and you elevate people, giving them the knowledge they need in a form they can readily absorb.

Recently, after the FBI announced one of the many “unspecified” terrorist threats, the Los Angeles Police Department went on “tactical alert”. Some writers simply repeated that phrase without explaining what the cops were actually doing. The LAPD press release said officers would be watching “critical infrastructure facilities”, and some writers copied that language too. But what the heck does it mean? Sure, we have a vague idea, but vagueness is insufficient! People want to know. They NEED to know! A phone call to the LAPD cleared it up: Officers will keep a close watch on places like bridges, power plants, government buildings and houses of worship.

Similarly, It’s a good idea to take almost nothing for granted when it comes to context. Perhaps we need not follow the “man from Mars” rule, starting every story from absolute zero, but we should do what we can. Like explaining that “jihad” is a holy war. Or repeating the charges against a defendant, even on the 87th day of a trial. When rioting breaks out in South Korea, Seattle or Beit Jala, we can explain why it’s happening, what both sides want. It’s not always easy, or even possible, in a 20-second story. But it’s a key to understanding. It’s not dumbing DOWN. It’s clearing UP.

To walk the line between dumbing down and clearing up, consider these guidelines:

Remember who you are. You’re a newsman with a better-than-average familiarity of not only current events, but of police jargon, and other bureaucratic lingo. It’s very likely some of those words may have filtered into your everyday conversation. But the people in your audience may have none of that knowledge. Don’t assume they do. Force yourself to filter out the jargon and clarify your terms.

Understand first. You can’t tell a story effectively unless you understand it yourself. Completely. Clearly. Without a doubt (I’ll never forget breaking my teeth over scripts describing the tensions in Rwanda, struggling to explain who the Hutu’s and Tutsi’s were, their various grievances, their violent history of attacks and vengeance. It was a bear. But if I didn’t have it straight in my head, how in the world could I tell it to someone else?)

Care. Remember, that’s your “best friend” out there. Not some faceless “8th grader”. Not some “denominator”. She deserves your best. Don’t even think about talking down to her.

We’re writing differently now. Our stories are more serious and focused, because the country is more serious and focused. People used to watch us because they were curious, or even bored. We were entertainers. Now they watch us because they’re concerned, maybe even afraid. Now we’re the ones who inform, warn, sometimes comfort and uplift. The job has gotten bigger. Now that we’re communicating life and death information, we must work harder than ever to make the message clear, in our audience’s language, without patronizing them. Millions are leaning on us. Let’s not push them away.

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