Some phrases need quotation marks. Among my personal favorites are “reality TV” and “citizen journalism.”
They’re oxymorons, and the surrounding punctuation visually represents the barrier between them and the ideals they try to simulate, though often destroy.
But in the latter instance, a website called Storify, which was unveiled at the TechCrunch Disrupt convention in September, aims to blur and ultimately erase this distinction.
In its six-month invitation-only trial, Storify let journalists simultaneously search various forms of social media for relevant posts, then drag and drop them into one embeddable feed. It’s basically an aggregator of social media content rather than news.
The result was what one Disrupt panelist called “Frankenstories” — collages of other people’s social networking entries, which essentially narrate the story for the reporter.
But last Monday, membership opened to the public “so many more people have the chance to tell stories in this new form and join the future of storytelling online,” according to the site.
Storify co-founder Burt Herman envisioned his brainchild being used by journalists, bloggers, companies, “or even just for people who want to put together a sort of online scrapbook.” The fact that now anyone can join proves the site serves recreational and commercial purposes — but it’s not dedicated to journalism.
Yet even before Storify’s digital gates were unlocked, these multimedia monstrosities posed dilemmas for reporters, readers and the industry connecting them.
Let’s begin with the content-creating side. Storify’s self-stated goal is helping journalists navigate social networks for newsworthy stories and reputable sources in the information overload era — a benign idea, theoretically.
Though, in practice, Storify discourages journalists from doing their own work and facilitates using other people’s posts to relay news. Why labor to cover stories, conduct research and interviews and produce original material when you can just cut and paste what others are saying on social media?
It’s an ethical nightmare, blurring the line between “citizen journalists” and professional reporters. The general public’s social media entries shouldn’t be a viable news source.
The site’s end-product also signifies bad news and headaches for readers. Harvard’s Nieman Journalism Lab review stated, “[The platform] might not be ideal for longer, text-heavy stories … and the modular system lends itself more to interrupted narrative than to flow.”
Most Storify feeds seem contrary to their advertised purpose, haphazard and neurologically challenging. The reader must transition from Tweets to YouTube videos to text to Flickr photos, and these various media require unnecessary mental adjustment when you just want to know what happened.
Storify tries to do so much at once it can’t accomplish any one task well. This multimedia stream-of-consciousness might suit a modern-day James Joyce, but not journalism.
These problems result from the technology’s premise. Storify only benefits those who believe journalism’s future is in social networking, specifically Twitter. The news industry must wean itself off the social media “Kool-Aid,” however, Storify is giving journalists the whole pitcher.
If Storify strictly created digital collections of professional work, it would be more reputable, but the social media emphasis discredits it tremendously.
On the first day Storify was open to the public I visited the site. After refusing the Twitter log-in prompt, I encountered a homepage full of newsfeeds glorifying that infamous blue bird.
Point taken, Storify — you’ve anointed Twitter the Jesus of journalism.
Social media content might be “juicier” and more digestible than long-form stories, but reporting possesses an intrinsic honesty and depth these superficial, self-centered tools can never convey.
Such technologies may supplement journalism, and because the public isn’t abandoning the social networking scene anytime soon, news outlets naturally want to follow them there.
But we’re approaching a dystopia where social media actually replace journalism. This ill-fated journey begins with Storify’s infiltration of the industry, which has largely been welcomed by the very institutions it will subvert.
 
Kelly Hotard is a 19-year-old mass communication junior from Picayune, Miss. Follow her on Twitter @TDR_khotard.
 
 
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contact Kelly Hotard at [email protected]