Over the summer of 2018, a little late to
the party, I binged all of Serial’s first season after downloading an onslaught of podcasts
to survive a long overseas flight. From the first episode, I was hooked. It was an engaging story with a cast of mysterious
characters, continual twists and turns, and an emotional incentive to care. When I got off the flight and finished up
the last few episodes, I wanted to hear what other people thought of the case. I turned to several discussion forums, most
of which- fortunately for me- were still focused on the Adnan Syed case and not the show’s
second season. After reading a few of the threads, something
became very apparent to me. People were big mad. I mean, they were going after each other so
angrily, calling each other assholes and idiots and seeming hell-bent on defending their positions. And it makes sense; murder is an emotionally
charged subject. It’s easy to be outraged that your peers
seemingly can’t understand such an obvious fact upon which you’ve based your moral
foundations. If I thought someone who had obviously killed
their ex in an act of domestic violence and lied about it was suddenly garnering sympathy
from people who thought that person was innocent, I would be outraged at people for not
seeing the obvious truth as well. Similarly, if I thought someone sat in prison
for almost twenty years for a crime they didn’t commit after being failed by the justice system
at every turn, I would be outraged that people were buying into obviously incorrect narratives
about that person. Either way, the podcast evoked a lot of passionate
responses from people who, I think, had good intentions. A lot of people were completely insistent
on their perspectives, and insistent on the fact that some of the people in our cast of
characters were terrible, manipulative people. Most of the people commenting had only heard
the podcast and maybe read a couple of online articles about the case; they didn’t have
any kind of insider information. But in the past couple weeks, some new information
came out. HBO’s documentary, The Case Against Adnan
Syed, included some new pieces of information about the case; in particular, specific details
about Jay, Syed’s alleged accomplice, came to light. For some, the new documentary changed people’s
minds and brought new information to light. For others, it confirmed what they already
suspected: that Adnan either did or did not kill Hae Min Lee. A piece of true crime media like Serial necessarily
leaves out specific details about the crimes and about the people involved in them. That doesn’t mean Sarah Koenig or any other
true crime reporter is a dishonest person, or that she was actively deceiving her listenerbase-
I, myself, am somewhat of a stan- but that any one person simply does not and cannot
contain all the relevant information for a viewer to make a truly educated decision about
whether something like a murder took place most of the time. The fact that the HBO documentary revealed
new information that Serial did not- or, maybe even could not- is evidence for this. And yet, despite the fact that viewers and
listeners of true crime simply never have all the relevant information, the popular
response to such works can affect the lives of their “casts” in ongoing ways. With regards to Serial, for instance, Asia McLane, whose
name no one knew before the podcast was released, wrote a book. Adnan Syed may or may not get a new trial. The brother of Hae Min Lee posted to Reddit,
right as the podcast was gaining popularity, to comment upon what its popularity had done
to his family. He wrote, “You don't know what we went through. Especially to those who are demanding our
family response and having a meetup... you guys are disgusting. Shame on you. I pray that you don't have to go through what
we went through and have your story blasted to 5mil listeners.” It’s difficult to imagine how horrible it
must feel to have people treating your sister’s murder like a fun hobby to speculate upon. In some cases, the effects of true crime media
can even lead directly to convictions or exonerations. During the making of the HBO true crime miniseries
The Jinx, Robert Durst was actually filmed confessing to multiple murders when he didn’t
realize the camera was running. He was arrested the day before the finale’s
airing. And there’s something really satisfying about participating
in a community that feels impactful. Not to mention, the people making true crime
media tend to be journalists rather than cops or FBI agents, and the nature of these documentaries
can make people feel like they’re in on the sleuthing process too. Look no further than Serial’s Reddit community
for examples of people trying to dig up the one piece of evidence that blows the whole
case out of the water. Given the mass amounts of engagement with
real-world issues that these works tend to garner, the question of journalistic responsibility
quickly comes up. Is it even ethical to put these works out
there, knowing that your work could lead to fans meticulously scrutinizing the lives of
your participants? To what degree are journalists even responsible
for how people react to their contact? I mean, if I put out an article saying “John
Smith may or may not have murdered this person” and someone reads it and goes to John Smith’s
house and starts harassing him, is that my fault? Was it inherently unethical for me to put
that article out there, even if I stick to the facts, say allegedly a lot, and insist
that we can’t be sure? It’s a difficult question to answer, but
one really great, really underrated work that can give us some excellent insight into the
question is Netflix show American Vandal. Oh my god! Could it be!? We’re actually talking about media again
and not making a fourth meta video about how we criticize it? Well… kind of. It might still get a bit meta. But, uh, bear with me here. American Vandal is… was… a Netflix series
centred around two high school filmmakers named Sam and Peter attempting to make a true
crime documentary about a fellow student, named Dylan, who was wrongfully expelled for
vandalism. The show primarily functions as a parody of
true crime documentaries by imitating their aesthetic structure while changing the subject
matter to something absurd. The first season focuses on a student expelled
for drawing wieners on teachers’ cars, while the second focuses on an elusive prankster
known as the Turd Burglar. As the first season progresses, the documentary-
also called American Vandal- goes viral, and everyone in the school becomes aware of the
show’s existence and the attempts to get Dylan’s expulsion reversed. By the time the second season runs around,
Sam and Peter have access to a proper camera crew, a Netflix original-tier budget, and
enough popularity that they’re able to interview almost anyone they want when trying to learn
the Turd Burglar’s true identity. In many ways, the popularity of American Vandal
functions as a commentary upon how the popularity of true crime journalism affects how we interact
with it, and how we interact with the documentaries’ subjects. Although the show does offer a very entertaining
mix of humour, commentary, and a genuinely engaging story, there are two primary ways
through which we can engage with the show’s commentary: in-universe, and out-of-universe. The fact that the show depicts American Vandal
going viral means that not only can we look at how we, the fans of the fictional Netflix
show, chose to respond to it, but we can also see how, in-universe, the documentary’s
popularity affected the characters’ lives in very profound ways. So, first, let’s take a look at, based on
what we see in-universe, what the show can tell us. The first way we can see the impacts of true
crime media on people’s lives is by examining the in-universe impact American Vandal’s
popularity had on the school. In the show, the first thing that happens
after American Vandal goes viral is that filming is banned on school campuses, and students
are not permitted to watch the show on the premises. Students who want to be part of the documentary
but don’t really have anything to offer come forward with useless tips. Students start to watch the documentary and
turn on each other after Sam and Peter engage in intimate investigations of their personal
lives. And, finally, the relationship between Sam
and Peter themselves starts to strain as they begin to disagree on the documentary’s direction. On the other hand, their popularity does assist
them in various ways. Sam and Peter are able to contact the news
and generate public outrage about the school’s banning of their documentary, which gets the
doc un-banned. People who do have useful information are
suddenly more willing to talk to them. Furthermore, the documentary leads to the
student body rallying public support around the falsely accused student. Throughout the series, Sam and Peter frequently
change their minds on who they think the suspect could be. For a while, they think it could be Dylan,
until they’re presented with information proving he couldn’t have done it. Then, they switch their suspicions to their
friend’s boyfriend, once again being sure it could be him before some piece of evidence
throws that theory out the window. Then Dylan’s girlfriend, then Dylan again,
and finally, a student named Christa. Their investigations of these people frequently
intrude upon their personal lives in irreparably damaging ways. On one instance, the filmmakers reveal that
one of the suspects cheated on her boyfriend, leading to the two breaking up. On another, they end up investigating a mentally
ill man who one suspect had prank called, leading to him getting constant calls and
attention from the documentary’s fans. One another, one of the filmmakers’ friends
gets angry at the way her boyfriend had been treated in the documentary, and walks out
on them. The series certainly doesn’t shy away from
demonstrating that the filming of American Vandal had absolutely hurt those people; Sam
and Peter were irresponsible and didn’t consider the possible impact of their actions. Continually, though, they justify their making
of the documentary with the mantra, “we’re just trying to find the truth”. As long as an innocent kid didn’t get expelled
or get criminal charges for something he didn’t do, everything they did was worth it. This, too, gets challenged in the first season’s
final episode. In the season finale, Dylan has been cleared
of all criminal charges, and has been allowed to return to school. The students throw a massive party, and Dylan,
who was previously viewed by the student body as a burnout, is treated as a hero. He walks in, and everyone cheers, chanting
his name, inviting him to partake in drinking games with them, and greeting him in a familiar
fashion. Some context for this next part: Dylan was
primarily accused based on the testimony of a single student, Alex Trimboli, who swore
that he saw Dylan vandalizing the teachers’ cars. In order to find out whether Alex was trustworthy
or not, they decided to examine another claim he had made; that he had received a handjob
from a popular student named Sara Pearson. Sam and Peter visited the summer camp where
this was supposed to have happened, and found a spot where Sara had detailed all of her
hookups. All of this made its way in the documentary. So, back at that same party, Sara Pearson
approaches Peter and calls him out. She essentially decries him for being insensitive,
including humiliating information that didn’t need to be in the documentary, and being more
obsessed with fame and popularity than with doing the right thing. Peter doesn’t really know how to respond,
and doesn’t really seem to take it to heart, either. But for the audience, it’s clear that in
Peter’s attempts to make the documentary, he’s hurt some innocent people by effectively
airing out their dirty laundry to millions of viewers. Later into the night, Dylan, who previously
hadn’t watched any of American Vandal, decides that this is the perfect time to sit down
and actually watch the documentary. He’s been cleared of all charges, everyone
knows he didn’t do it, and there’s no real consequence to him to seeing how Sam
and Peter reached that conclusion. Dylan sits down, and they play American Vandal
on the projector. And the very first scene in the whole documentary
is a supercut of interviews where the other students are asked how they feel about Dylan. The answers are hurtful. He’s a loser, he’s a burnout, no one likes
him, he obviously did it. These are the same students who, moments earlier,
were partying with Dylan and treating him like a hero. Dylan quickly realizes that his fellow students
don’t like him for him; he’s just another trend for them. But before Sam or Peter can really think about
the consequences of their actions, their attention is quickly diverted to a last-minute clue
at the party that could reveal the true vandal’s identity. Throughout the rest of the final episode,
Sam and Peter move on from Dylan as they focus on whether or not this last-minute suspect
could have been the vandal, but Dylan is still left behind to deal with the consequences
of seeing the documentary. At the very end, Dylan ends up committing
a vandalism for real and facing criminal charges anyway, explaining that regardless of what
he did, he would still be perceived by his fellow students as a fuckup anyway, and so he might
as well live up to it. So what Season One mostly tries to tell us
is that turning people’s lives into venues for public commentary is inappropriate,
even if it’s done with noble intentions. Most of the people who Sam and Peter interviewed
didn’t know what was going to happen as a consequence of the documentary being made,
and except for Sam and Peter, almost everyone in it came out worse than they initially started. Furthermore, not only did they not find the
vandal, Dylan ended up almost exactly where he started out. Given the show’s many parallels to true
crime documentaries, it seems like what they’re trying to show us here in no uncertain terms
is the effect such media’s popularity can have on real people. I mean, we already talked earlier about how
Hae Min Lee’s family has been incessantly harassed after Serial came out. Not only that, but there’s also something
to be said about how many people who were almost definitely innocent, like her boyfriend
Don, have had to deal with uneducated people speculating that they may have been murderers. I mean, imagine what that does to a person. Like, think about it. You’ve had something traumatic happen to
you, or to someone you knew. Like Dylan, you agree to participate in a
documentary about it thinking it’ll help you, and you just end up being the subject
of public scrutiny and harassment. Or, like Sara Pearson, even if you didn’t
agree to participate, this can happen to you anyway. In fact, your refusal to participate might
signal to people that you’re more likely to be guilty, even when that in no way suggests
guilt. That’s pretty awful, and American Vandal
gives us a small-scale glimpse of what it can be like. So… that’s it, then? All American Vandal can tell us about true
crime is that it’s inherently unethical journalism? It doesn’t help anyone, and anyone doing
it is only in it for personal gain? Well.. not exactly. Even though there are direct, unique harms
that can come from this kind of journalism, journalists can’t simply refuse to report
on anything that could have potential negative impacts for the participants. It’s moreso about weighing harms. Sure, Sara Pearson was embarrassed, but Dylan
no longer has to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars in court for a crime he didn’t
commit. Maybe the whole thing was worth it if it meant
questions about the crime were answered. And even though Sam and Peter didn’t find
the true vandal, was the pursuit of truth a noble enough goal in its own right that
those harms were worth it? This is where Season 2 comes in. There are a few primary differences between
the two documentaries. In the first, Sam and Peter were interviewing
students at their local high school. These were people who Sam and Peter had a
personal connection with. They also had almost no budget, and had trouble
getting most of the teachers to talk to them. In Season 2, however, they visit a different
high school to solve their local mystery. Not only do they have better access and a
higher budget, but they also don’t know anyone involved personally. On one hand, this means they lack context
and are viewing the entire situation from an outsider perspective. On the other, their perceived objectivity
reduces the chances of drama or conflicts of interest. Throughout the season, as they get closer
and closer to discovering the Turd Burglar’s identity, it becomes clear that, once again,
their filming has unintended consequences for everyone but the filmmakers. On one instance, they’re anonymously contacted
by someone on the basketball team, who claims to have information about one of the other
athletes. After the next episode of their documentary
comes out, a student on the team ends up being beaten up because his teammates suspected
he might have been the source. But the most significant consequence comes
at the end of the series. Sam and Peter connect the dots, and discover
the Turd Burglar’s identity. Sam is insistent that they should go to the
police with the evidence that they’ve compiled, but Peter refuses to do so before he’s messaged
the Turd Burglar to inform him that they’ve figured out who he is. In retaliation, the culprit ends up posting
a variety of graphic photos and videos from various people in the school. Even though he does end up facing criminal
charges for his actions, the only reason he was able to post those pictures is that Peter
had pissed him off and given him a warning of sorts. Otherwise, it’s very possible that those
images may not have gotten out. On the other hand, unlike in Season 1, their
documentary does end up significantly influencing the situation’s outcome. This time, Sam and Peter actually manage to
solve the mystery. The real culprit gets sentenced to prison. They accomplish what they set out to do, and
as a result, no one is slapped with false criminal charges. The situation is a lot more nuanced as to
whether or not the documentary’s existence was a good- or a bad- thing. And that gives us a very interesting question
when it comes to true crime journalism. Is it ethical? I mean, it has value in drawing public attention
to situations of injustice, but is that value always worth the cost, especially when that
cost tends to come not to the filmmakers, but to other people in the doc? There isn’t one universal code of practice
followed to a T by every single journalist around the world, but in countries like the US and
Canada, there do exist specific organizations like the Society of Professional Journalists
or the Canadian Association of Journalists, which maintain specific codes of ethics that
journalists are expected to follow. Looking at a few of such codes reveal some
overarching themes. Many, like making sure to verify sources,
providing context, and examining one’s own biases seem almost like common sense. But in more nuanced situations, where publishing
a piece has the potential to do both a lot of good and a lot of harm, the focus is usually
on a need to minimize that harm, while acknowledging that some degree of it will necessarily exist. For example, the Society of Professional Journalists
recommends that reporters be more cautious reporting on personal details of private individuals
than public figures. They also remind journalists that- legally
speaking- just because you can report something doesn’t mean you should. Additionally- and this is really important
given the power of the internet- when considering how and whether to publish something, journalists
should keep in mind the long-term effects that such a publication could have on a person’s
life, given that their piece may never, ever go away. Small digression, but there’s a really interesting
case study that reminds me a lot of Peter’s lack of consideration for the consequences
of his actions. A piece on Thrillist, called “I Found The
Best Burger place in America. And Then I Killed It”, was written by a
journalist named Kevin Alexander, who wrote a piece he genuinely thought would be harmless. He traveled to 30 cities looking for the best
burger in America before settling on a small cheeseburger shop in Portland. He published his results to great excitement,
everyone was happy… and then, five months later, the restaurant shut down. Apparently, the piece had led to such an increased
demand for burgers that the place couldn’t maintain its quality against a wave of long
line-ups, high expectations, and bad reviews. Kevin spends most of his article wrestling
with the consequences that publishing his list had created. He feels guilty for what he did, and ends
up contacting the former owner, who tells him the article wasn’t the only problem;
it just exacerbated issues that were already there. But still, Kevin feels guilty. He isn’t sure how much responsibility he
can take, or how he can do better next time, or if there’s even a way to do what he does
properly. It’s not as high-stakes as reporting on
whether someone did a murder or not, but it still raises many of the same ethical questions
about the responsibility of journalists in such situations. The article was interesting on its own, but
the context surrounding it made everything all the more complex. It later came to light that the restaurant’s
owner had been involved in multiple instances of domestic abuse, which probably
had something to do with the restaurant going under. The owner insisted that it had nothing to
do with it, Kevin wasn’t certain either way, and many journalists wrote about the
piece, feeling as though it was guilty of many of the same ethical problems as the original
list. Long story short, it’s a great example of
how complex this process can be. Exposing laypeople to the readership of hundreds
of thousands of people is just always going to have consequences, whether positive or
negative, and it’s something every journalist has to think about. But this is especially true for true crime,
because the nature of it is holds so much more gravity than a piece about a burger restaurant. Being inundated by harassing calls from random
people sucks no matter what, but it sucks a lot more when it’s because you lost a
family member, or because those people think you murdered someone, or helped someone who
did. So I think a lot of what we see in American
Vandal’s second season is wrestling with balancing harms. Some of the things Peter did just categorically
helped the students. He found the real Turd Burglar, and someone
who, without Peter’s help, would have probably gone on to hurt a lot more people, ended up
getting caught. On the other hand, he was partially responsible
for the Turd Burglar releasing his stash of compromising photos and videos of everyone. He gave a falsely accused student a platform
to share his experience. Yet that platform also got an innocent kid
beaten up. Ultimately, what American Vandal shows us
isn’t that we need to stop reporting on true crime, or that any press is good press. Instead, it gives us a look into both the
positives and the negatives of that world. Sure, this journalism can help people, but
it needs to be performed responsibly, and with even more care and consideration for
consequences than exists in other forms of journalism. American Vandal shows us that it’s not a
matter of whether we 100% should or should not report on such instances, but that in
such situations, we need to exercise extreme care and foresight when considering how and
when to do so. For example. Sarah Koenig couldn’t have talked about
the story of Serial without examining whether or not Jay was a trustworthy source. He was the main witness, and it would have
been impossible. But given the weekly format of the show, was
it ethical of her to ask open-ended questions about Jay’s trustworthiness that wouldn’t
get answered until weeks later, leaving fans to speculate and temporarily believe things
that are untrue? That’s a harder question, especially because
so much of true crime blends elements of journalistic reporting with elements of suspense and entertaining
storytelling. On the whole, American Vandal doesn’t give
us a one-size-fits-all answer to this question, because there just isn’t one. It’s a highly context-dependent situation,
and things like this often need to be determined on a case-by-case basis. What it does tell us is that unintended consequences
in such a field are everywhere, and we need to be extremely careful with our lines of
questioning lest we hurt innocent people. So that’s what I think we can take from
the content of American Vandal itself. But while I was doing research for this video,
I also found something interesting in terms of how fans reacted to the show out-of-universe. So before we wrap this baby up, I want to
talk about that. One important thing about American Vandal
that’s consistent with a lot of true crime media is that the reporters don’t maintain
a single conclusion from Episode 1 and stick with it for the rest of the show. Their opinions are constantly changing in
the wake of new evidence and unexpected twists. Like I said earlier: in both seasons, there
are usually 3 or 4 different prime suspects throughout the season that are reported upon. Usually by the end of an episode, there’s
one particular person who Sam and Peter are reasonably sure did it, and it’s almost
never the actual culprit. American Vandal is a Netflix original, so
all the episodes came out at the same time. There’s still usually some period of wait
between watching the episodes, though, whether it be to sleep, to go on Reddit and comment
about the episodes, or to just take a break and move on to real life things. And for American Vandal fans, that’s a crucial
period to discuss and theorize. And one thing I noticed, at least on the Reddit
discussion posts for each episode, is that in between episodes, people tend to be completely
convinced that the culprit is one specific person, based solely on the evidence presented
to them. For example, near the end of Season 1, there’s
this “how-could-we-have-missed-it” moment where Sam and Peter realize it’s extremely
plausible for Dylan’s girlfriend to have been the vandal. They end up interrogating her, but she tears
up and storms out before they can get any real answers. At the very end of the episode, she shares
a link with them, but we don’t yet get to see what’s in it. Now, as I watched this episode, I was like,
oh shit. It was her the whole time! I can’t believe this! And the Reddit discussion thread was sure
of it too. A lot of the comments were people in shock
that she could have done this. Everyone was so sure it was her! Of course, the very beginning of the very
next episode involved her sending proof that she couldn’t have done it. So, that theory goes out the window. But the episode contains a lot of speculation
as to another potential culprit after it becomes clear that she had been lying to them about
her alibi. They end on saying they can’t be sure it’s
her, but that they have a suspicion. And, again on the Reddit thread, people are
sure it was her, and were arguing over whether she was justified in the vandalism or not. I mean, I even Tweeted that it was her, and
that she did nothing wrong. Which, either way, she didn’t. But that just makes me wonder, right? If the series had continued, and they had
investigated her as deeply as they’d investigated the girlfriend, who knows if the reason she
was lying about her alibi was because she was the vandal? Maybe there’s another story there completely! We, the audience, still end up ending the
series having a host of incomplete information. We know we don’t have all the facts and
that we can’t, but we still come out of it convinced that she did it even though she
might not have. The same thing happened for Season 2. In every discussion thread, there’s usually
like one person who most of the commenters are convinced had to have done it, and up
until the very last episode, the Reddit discussion thread is pretty much always wrong. And it’s not because the people commenting
and theorizing are stupid or that they’re doing anything wrong by… engaging with the
show in the way it’s meant to be engaged with. Not at all. It’s just that they have incomplete information. The audience doesn’t yet know that this
character had an alibi, or that there’s security footage of this character doing this
thing at this time. Sam and Peter don’t yet know it, so neither
do we. The same is true for actual true crime. There’s something really fun in being swept
up in the rapture of conspiracy, and figuring things out, and feeling like we, too, are
part of that process. But we’re always working off of limited
information, every single time. Because… you know. If that information wasn’t in some way limited,
there would be no mystery. So any kind of theorizing that happens by
fans or by the journalists is always based on some degree of guessing and extrapolation. Again, that’s not an inherently terrible
thing. Many guesses are in fact educated guesses. But the fact that our perspectives can so
quickly change when confronted with new information means that we should absolutely be cautious
when it comes to reaching conclusions too quickly based on too little information. So what does that mean for journalists? Well, one thing to consider is that most people
don’t consume a piece of true crime media all at once. So, for example, Serial has a weekly format,
so even though it’s bingeable now, during the time it aired, people had to wait for
more information. When something with a format like that gives
us an observation or puts an idea out there, and we only find out weeks later that that
idea isn’t true or that it’s something we should be second-guessing, that still leaves
a window for real-time consequences where people start reaching conclusions based on
inherently limited information. Even media that can be bingewatched or is
intended to be consumed in one sitting, like a single movie, still always leaves out certain
pieces of information, often by necessity. That’s not to say every single person in
every single situation needs every single possible tiny detail about a case in order
to reach an educated decision. I mean, that’s just not true. Oftentimes, a lot of information is superfluous
and doesn’t really serve a purpose to the larger narrative. It’s the same reason books don’t include
passages about their characters going to the bathroom most of the time. And given that no one has unlimited time,
a journalist is always going to have to pick and choose as to what information to include in their
story. So, again, it just comes down to a matter
of how to include information in a way that’s ethical and fair. Once again, American Vandal can’t give us
a single answer to this question, because, as previously stated, it really is context-dependent. You can’t say “this is always the right
amount of information to include in every single context”. There is no magic number or magic type of
information. But the show does serve as a reminder of this
problem. For an audience, it can tell us “hey, be
careful of reaching these conclusions too quickly, because there’s a decent likelihood
you’ll end up being wrong”. And as commentary on this kind of journalism,
it can bring to light a really important issue of true crime journalists needing to be cautious
about what to include and what to exclude in order to give their audiences the most
objective and accurate picture of the story they’re trying to tell. Not only that, but it can serve as a reminder
that the way we structure this information needs to be properly balanced between reporting
and entertainment. Sure, throwing an inkling or hunch out there
and then disproving it later might contribute to a sense of dramatic tension, but who might
it hurt in the meantime? On the whole, American Vandal therefore serves
as a reminder that we are indeed working with limited information. Once again, it doesn’t tell us that true
crime shouldn’t exist, but instead that we need to exercise extreme care
and caution so that we don’t ruin people’s lives with improper conclusions. Like most journalism, true crime is a difficult
topic to report upon correctly. Unlike most journalism, when not done right,
the consequences can be uniquely disastrous. Because of the intense and personal nature
of the genre, true crime holds both the extreme potential to do good and the extreme
potential to do harm. On one hand, it can indeed highlight situations
of injustice and can bring little-known cases to public attention, which at its best can
actually result in those cases getting solved. On the other, it can often subject innocent
people to undue scrutiny and harassment, whether they consent or not. Add onto that the fact that, when not done
with the utmost care and attention, weekly formats and use of dramatic tension can end
up actively misleading an audience, even when that’s not the reporter’s intent. As a result, so many people can end up being
hurt. On top of just being a good and funny show,
American Vandal focuses on what those consequences can look like, and how to balance the issue
in a way that minimizes the genre’s harms as much as possible. Through Sam and Peter’s attempts to help
people leading to unintended consequences, the show highlights several important ethical
questions when it comes to the best way to report on such cases. By showing us what not to do- like contacting
an anonymous figure who has compromising information on people and taunting him, the show shows
us what we should be doing, which is handling these cases as delicately, and as conscientiously
as possible. Furthermore, the way the fans react to American
Vandal can give us some insights into how we react to real-life true crime, and can
serve as an apt reminder that, uh. We are not immune to propaganda. At this point, it’s very unlikely that American
Vandal will ever get a third season, and that is a travesty. But people will always keep getting murdered,
and true crime media will probably keep getting made. So even though we may never find out who drew
the dicks, hopefully the show can remind us not to be the dicks. In addition to all my other patrons, I would
also to specially thank Cu-Fu-Lin, and Veikko Elo for joining my $20+ tier. You guys are good humans.
It'll be a while before I can read the phrase "Ethical Journalism" without throwing up in my mouth a little
The mouthing aren’t in sync with the words and why is she standing and reciting an essay? I only saw the first 4 seconds and imma pass