Rhonda Fitzgerald-Hunter

Communications, Marketing & Creative Works

Tag: Journalism

  • Facebook memories will humble you. 😂

    Facebook memories will humble you. 😂

    This popped up from 14 years ago, and I sat here looking at it thinking about how much my thinking has changed.

    At the time, I had no problem with drug testing people who received public assistance. My reasoning was pretty simple: people get drug tested for jobs, so why shouldn’t someone receiving taxpayer-funded assistance be tested too?

    And no, I didn’t believe everyone receiving assistance was using drugs. It just seemed like a reasonable requirement.

    But here’s what I wasn’t asking:

    How much does all that drug testing cost taxpayers?

    How many recipients actually test positive?

    How much money are we supposedly saving after paying to administer an entire testing program?

    And most importantly, even if somebody IS struggling with drug addiction, when did that mean they no longer deserve to eat?

    That’s the part that hits me differently today.

    We’re talking about people receiving a relatively small amount of assistance to buy FOOD. Not cash for a vacation. Not some luxurious lifestyle. Food.

    Addiction doesn’t eliminate hunger. Poverty doesn’t eliminate someone’s humanity. And children certainly shouldn’t go hungry because of something their parent may or may not have done.

    What’s interesting to me about this memory isn’t that I suddenly became smarter sometime during the last 14 years. It’s that I learned to ask more questions.

    The meme gave me a very simple fairness argument:

    “If workers have to take drug tests, welfare recipients should too.”

    And I accepted the premise without examining everything underneath it.

    Who created that framing?

    What does the actual data say?

    What does the policy cost?

    Does it accomplish what we’re being told it accomplishes?

    Who benefits from convincing us that another struggling person is the problem?

    That’s what media literacy does. It doesn’t tell you what political opinion you’re supposed to have. It teaches you to stop accepting somebody else’s premise before you’ve examined it.

    Sometimes growth is being able to look at something you posted 14 years ago and say:

    I understand exactly why that argument made sense to me then. I also understand why it doesn’t anymore.

  • Social Media Stalking: When Curiosity Crosses the Line

    Social Media Stalking: When Curiosity Crosses the Line

    Most of us expect some level of visibility when we participate on social media. We know our comments can be seen, our profiles can be viewed, and our opinions can be challenged.

    What many people don’t expect is how quickly a disagreement can turn into a personal investigation.

    In today’s digital world, it takes only a few clicks for someone to move beyond a discussion and begin searching for information about the person behind the profile. A comment on a political post, a debate in a Facebook group, or a disagreement on a public page can sometimes lead strangers down a rabbit hole of online research.

    The goal isn’t always to learn more. Sometimes it’s to find something that can be used against someone.

    The Rise of Amateur Investigators

    Social media has created an environment where people can access more information than ever before. Public records, old news articles, archived websites, social media profiles, and search engines can reveal years of information in minutes.

    For some people, curiosity stops there.

    For others, it becomes an obsession.

    Instead of responding to an argument, they attempt to discredit the person making it. Rather than discussing facts, they search for personal information, employment details, family connections, past mistakes, or anything that can be used to shift attention away from the original conversation.

    The discussion changes from:

    “Is this statement true?”

    to:

    “Who is this person?”

    Why This Matters

    Social media stalking isn’t always illegal, but it can be invasive.

    Many people have experienced situations where strangers have:

    • Contacted family members
    • Contacted employers
    • Searched public records
    • Sent private messages referencing personal information
    • Dug up events from years or even decades ago

    Often, the purpose is intimidation.

    The message being sent is clear:

    “I know who you are.”

    Even when no direct threat is made, the behavior can make people feel uncomfortable, unsafe, or reluctant to participate in public conversations.

    Protecting Yourself Online

    While it is impossible to eliminate all risks, there are steps everyone can take to improve online safety:

    Review Privacy Settings

    Regularly check privacy settings on social media platforms. Limit who can see personal information, photos, friends lists, and contact information.

    Separate Personal and Professional Accounts

    Consider maintaining separate accounts for professional activities and personal interactions when possible.

    Be Mindful of Location Information

    Avoid posting real-time locations, home addresses, or details that could reveal your daily routine.

    Monitor Your Digital Footprint

    Search your own name periodically to see what information is publicly available. You may be surprised by what appears in search results.

    Document Harassment

    If someone crosses the line from curiosity into harassment, save screenshots and document interactions. Having a record can be valuable if behavior escalates.

    The Human Side of the Screen

    One of the most overlooked aspects of social media is that every profile belongs to a real person.

    People have histories, families, careers, successes, failures, and experiences that cannot be summarized by a single post, headline, or search result.

    Disagreements are part of healthy public discourse.

    Personal investigations are not.

    Before spending time digging into someone’s life, it is worth asking a simple question:

    “Would I want a stranger doing this to me?”

    The internet has made information easier to find than ever before. It has not made it any less important to respect personal boundaries.

    Digital citizenship is not just about what we post. It is also about how we treat the people behind the profiles.

    When Did Bullying Become a Political Strategy?

  • When the Public Stops Arguing and Starts Laughing

    When the Public Stops Arguing and Starts Laughing

    The moment a controversy becomes a meme, leaders have usually lost control of the narrative.

    People will tolerate mistakes.
    People will tolerate delays.
    People will even tolerate expensive failures.

    What they don’t tolerate well is being asked to ignore what they can see with their own eyes.

    When explanations feel disconnected from observable reality, public debate often shifts from criticism to satire. Instead of rebutting claims with detailed arguments, people begin responding with jokes, memes, and sarcasm.

    Humor becomes a form of public fact-checking.

    A leader facing a failed project can choose one of two paths:

    Accountability

    • Explain what happened.
    • Acknowledge mistakes.
    • Present evidence.
    • Outline corrective actions.

    Or:

    Deflection

    • Blame unnamed actors.
    • Suggest conspiracies.
    • Shift responsibility elsewhere.
    • Attack critics.

    The first approach may generate short-term criticism.

    The second often generates long-term ridicule.

    History shows that public trust is rarely destroyed by mistakes alone. It is damaged when people believe they are being given a story instead of an explanation.

    Once citizens begin asking whether the sun, clouds, algae, or hydrogen peroxide should be arrested, the discussion is no longer about the original incident.

    It is about credibility.

    And credibility, once lost, is far harder to repair than a reflecting pool.

  • The Reflecting Pool and the Reflection of Modern Media

    The Reflecting Pool and the Reflection of Modern Media

    Sometimes the most interesting story isn’t the event itself.

    It’s what people choose to believe about it.

    Over the past week, a simple maintenance problem at one of America’s most recognizable landmarks became something much larger. What began as reports of algae growth and peeling paint at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool quickly transformed into a full-blown online narrative war.

    Within hours, social media users were claiming sabotage.

    Some insisted activists had dumped chemicals into the water. Others claimed organized political groups were responsible. Posts spread rapidly, often accompanied by dramatic language, accusations, and certainty unsupported by evidence.

    At the same time, reporters from multiple news organizations were documenting something far less sensational: algae growth, peeling coating material, workers applying treatments to the water, and maintenance crews attempting to address the problem.

    The contrast was striking.

    One side of the internet was watching videos of people pulling large sheets of blue material from the pool and asking questions about construction quality, environmental conditions, and project management.

    The other side was constructing elaborate theories involving vandals, conspiracies, and political enemies.

    What happened next was even more interesting.

    The public began pushing back.

    Comment sections filled with questions that should have been asked from the beginning:

    Where is the evidence?

    Who was arrested?

    What chemicals were used?

    What proof exists that anyone intentionally damaged the pool?

    Why are we assuming sabotage before investigating ordinary explanations?

    Eventually, many conversations shifted from outrage to humor.

    The jokes became relentless.

    Photosynthesis was accused of being the real culprit.

    Algae became a suspect.

    Commenters joked that chemistry itself was being investigated.

    The humor revealed something important: people often recognize when a narrative is stretching beyond the available facts.

    The Reflecting Pool story illustrates a growing problem in modern media consumption. Too often, people begin with a conclusion and then search for evidence that supports it. Facts become secondary. Evidence becomes optional. Speculation becomes certainty.

    The result is a cycle where every event is immediately assigned a villain before anyone understands what actually happened.

    Sometimes vandalism is real.

    Sometimes corruption is real.

    Sometimes sabotage is real.

    But sometimes algae is simply algae.

    And sometimes a maintenance failure is just a maintenance failure.

    The lesson isn’t about a reflecting pool.

    It’s about how quickly stories evolve online and how easily assumptions can outrun evidence.

    In an era where information travels faster than facts, the most valuable question remains the simplest one:

    “What’s the evidence?”

  • The Ethical Implications of Deepfake Technology: Navigating the Digital Dilemma

    The Ethical Implications of Deepfake Technology: Navigating the Digital Dilemma

    Deepfake technology, which leverages artificial intelligence to create hyper-realistic yet fabricated video, audio, and images, presents significant ethical challenges. While the technology offers exciting possibilities for entertainment and creativity, it also has the potential for harm, particularly when used to spread misinformation, violate privacy, or undermine trust in media.

    Ethical Challenges

    The rise of deepfakes has raised alarm due to their ability to create convincing misinformation. These digitally manipulated videos can portray individuals, including politicians and public figures, saying or doing things they never did, which can easily be spread as “evidence” online, influencing public opinion. In the political arena, this could be weaponized to manipulate elections or sow discord in societies (Larry Jordan) (JIER).

    Another significant concern is the violation of privacy. With deepfake technology, anyone’s likeness can be replicated and used without their consent. This has led to the rise of non-consensual pornography, where deepfake images of individuals, primarily women, are superimposed onto explicit content, causing emotional distress and reputational damage. In addition to this, deepfakes have also been used in identity theft, where criminals impersonate individuals to carry out fraudulent activities (IndustryWired) (Larry Jordan)(JIER).

    Solutions and Policy Recommendations

    Addressing these ethical challenges requires a multi-faceted approach. First, public awareness is crucial. People must be educated on the risks of deepfakes and how to identify manipulated content. Technological solutions are also necessary, such as AI-driven detection systems that can identify deepfakes by analyzing inconsistencies in video and audio (IndustryWired).

    On the policy front, stronger legal frameworks are essential to combat the malicious use of deepfakes. Laws must penalize those who use deepfakes to deceive, defraud, or create harmful content, such as non-consensual pornographic material. Ethical standards for AI must also emphasize consent, transparency, and responsibility to prevent abuses of the technology (Larry Jordan) (IndustryWired).

    The ethical implications of deepfake technology underscore the importance of balancing innovation with accountability. As this powerful tool continues to evolve, it is crucial that society develops both the technological safeguards and legal measures needed to mitigate its potential harm.

    References

    Business Insider. (n.d.). What is a deepfake? Business Insider. Retrieved from https://www.businessinsider.com/guides/tech/what-is-deepfake.

    CloudSEK. (n.d.) What are deep fakes: Understanding the Growing Threat in the Digital Age Retrieved from https://www.cloudsek.com/knowledge-base/what-are-deep-fakes-understanding-the-growing-threat-in-the-digital-age.

    IndustryWired. Retrieved from https://industrywired.com/ethics-of-deepfakes-wheretechnology-meets-moral-dilemmas/.

    Roose, K. (2023, February 7). How A.I. is being used to create the ultimate deepfake. The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/07/technology/artificialintelligence-training-deepfake.htm.

  • When Reporting Isn’t Enough: Why Context Matters More Than Ever

    When Reporting Isn’t Enough: Why Context Matters More Than Ever

    There was a time when the primary job of journalism was simple: report what happened.

    A public official made a statement. A corporation announced a policy. A government agency released a report. Journalists gathered the information, published it, and trusted readers to draw their own conclusions.

    In a slower world, that approach made sense.

    Today, information moves at a speed that previous generations could never have imagined. Headlines are shared instantly. Screenshots travel farther than full articles. Social media posts often reach millions of people before supporting facts, corrections, or clarifications can catch up.

    As a result, a growing question has emerged:

    Is reporting what was said enough, or does journalism have a responsibility to provide immediate context?

    This question extends far beyond politics. It applies to business, healthcare, science, technology, law enforcement, finance, and nearly every other area of public life.

    Imagine a company executive making a bold claim about a new product.

    Imagine a public official announcing a major policy change.

    Imagine a social media influencer sharing alarming information about health, safety, or the economy.

    In each case, the statement itself may be newsworthy. But the audience also needs to know what evidence exists to support it.

    The challenge is that modern information consumers often encounter only fragments of a story. Many people see a headline but never read the article. Others see a screenshot without context. Some encounter information through reposts, clips, or summaries created by third parties.

    In that environment, simply repeating a claim—even when accurately attributed—can create confusion.

    This does not mean journalists should become advocates, activists, or arbiters of truth. Their role is not to tell people what to think.

    Their role is to help people understand what is known, what is unknown, and what evidence exists.

    A statement can be reported accurately while still being incomplete.

    Context is what transforms information into understanding.

    For example:

    A headline can report that a claim was made.

    A stronger story explains whether independent evidence supports that claim.

    A stronger story identifies what experts know, what remains uncertain, and what questions are still unanswered.

    None of this requires taking sides.

    It requires providing readers with the tools they need to evaluate information for themselves.

    This challenge has become more important as misinformation spreads more easily than ever before. False information can travel around the world in minutes. Corrections often arrive much later, if they arrive at all.

    The result is a growing gap between what people hear and what they know.

    Closing that gap requires more than simply relaying statements.

    It requires context.

    It requires verification.

    It requires transparency about uncertainty.

    Most importantly, it requires recognizing that modern audiences do not simply need access to information. They need help navigating an environment flooded with competing claims, conflicting narratives, and constant noise.

    The future of journalism may not depend on who reports information first.

    It may depend on who provides the clearest understanding of what that information actually means.

    In an age where everyone can publish, the most valuable service is no longer repeating what was said.

    It is helping people understand what is true, what remains uncertain, and why the difference matters.

    Conditioning Through Headlines: How We Learn to Fear Entire Groups

  • Conditioning Through Headlines: How We Learn to Fear Entire Groups

    Conditioning Through Headlines: How We Learn to Fear Entire Groups

    Most people believe propaganda is obvious.

    They imagine government posters, staged rallies, or television broadcasts telling citizens exactly what to think. They assume they would recognize it immediately.

    The reality is far more subtle.

    Today, conditioning often arrives one headline, one viral post, and one comment section at a time.

    Over the last several years, I have noticed a pattern that repeats itself across social media. A crime occurs. The victim and suspect are immediately identified by race, religion, nationality, or immigration status. The story spreads rapidly, often accompanied by emotional language designed to provoke outrage.

    “A White mother killed by a Black robber.”

    “An illegal immigrant accused of assault.”

    “A Muslim suspect.”

    “A Somali gang.”

    The details change, but the formula remains the same.

    The tragedy itself becomes secondary. The focus shifts to the identity of the people involved.

    What makes this so effective is that no one has to explicitly tell you to hate anyone.

    Nobody says, “You should fear Black people.”

    Nobody says, “You should distrust immigrants.”

    Nobody says, “You should be suspicious of Muslims.”

    Instead, you are shown the same association repeatedly until your brain begins making the connection on its own.

    Psychologists call this availability bias. We tend to judge the frequency of something based on how easily examples come to mind. If every crime story you see highlights a suspect’s race or immigration status, you begin to believe those characteristics are central to the problem—even when statistics may not support that conclusion.

    The process works because it feels like you reached the conclusion yourself.

    Meanwhile, thousands of crimes that do not fit the preferred narrative receive little attention. Murders happen every day. Assaults happen every day. Robberies happen every day. Yet only a handful become national stories.

    Why?

    Often because they can be used to reinforce an existing narrative.

    The result is that entire communities become associated with crimes committed by individuals.

    A teenager commits a robbery.

    Suddenly people are discussing an entire race.

    One immigrant commits a crime.

    Suddenly millions of immigrants are viewed with suspicion.

    One person behaves terribly.

    An entire group is expected to answer for it.

    Imagine applying that standard consistently. Every White person would be judged by the actions of the worst White criminal. Every Christian would be judged by the actions of the worst Christian. Every police officer would be judged by the worst officer. Every immigrant would be judged by the worst immigrant.

    Most of us recognize immediately how unfair that would be.

    Yet we often fail to notice when the same logic is applied to groups we already view as outsiders.

    This is why media literacy matters.

    When you see a headline, ask yourself:

    Would this still be a story if the races were reversed?

    Would this still be a story if immigration status were omitted?

    Would this still be a story if the religion were never mentioned?

    Most importantly:

    Am I being informed, or am I being conditioned?

    There is a difference between reporting facts and encouraging fear.

    Facts help us understand reality.

    Fear encourages us to see enemies everywhere.

    Every victim deserves justice. Every family deserves compassion. But when tragedies are selectively amplified to create suspicion toward entire groups of people, the conversation is no longer about the victim.

    It becomes about manufacturing division.

    History shows us where that road leads.

    The most dangerous propaganda is rarely the kind that demands hatred outright.

    It is the kind that quietly teaches it, one story at a time, until people no longer recognize they are being taught.

    When Reporting Isn’t Enough: Why Context Matters More Than Ever

  • The Age of Spectacle: Why Everything Has Become a Stunt

    The Age of Spectacle: Why Everything Has Become a Stunt

    A giant inflatable depicting Elon Musk appeared in Times Square ahead of SpaceX’s IPO. Some people laughed. Others were outraged. News outlets covered it. Social media amplified it. Millions of people who otherwise would have ignored the debate suddenly had an opinion.

    Whether you agreed with the message is almost beside the point.

    The inflatable did exactly what it was designed to do: capture attention.

    We live in an age where attention has become one of the most valuable commodities in the world. Politicians know it. Corporations know it. Activists know it. Media outlets know it.

    The modern battle is no longer simply over policy. It is over visibility.

    A century ago, governments relied on newspapers, radio broadcasts, and public rallies to shape public opinion. Today, the tools are different, but the objective remains the same. Viral clips replace newsreels. Algorithms replace newspaper editors. Giant inflatables replace political posters.

    The people protesting Elon Musk understand the same lesson that Elon Musk himself understands: if you want to influence public conversation, you must first command public attention.

    This is why modern politics increasingly resembles entertainment.

    Presidential campaigns become reality television. Billionaires become celebrities. Activists become influencers. News becomes content. Outrage becomes engagement.

    The result is a society where symbolism often travels farther than substance.

    A giant inflatable can generate more discussion than a thousand-page policy proposal. A meme can reach more people than a congressional hearing. A viral video can shape public opinion faster than a detailed investigative report.

    None of this means the underlying issues are unimportant. Questions about artificial intelligence, corporate responsibility, taxation, wealth concentration, government spending, and public accountability deserve serious discussion.

    But serious discussion rarely goes viral.

    Spectacle does.

    The inflatable in Times Square is not the story. It is a symptom.

    The real story is that we now live in a culture where every side—politicians, corporations, activists, media personalities, and ordinary citizens—is competing in the same attention economy.

    The winners are not always those with the strongest arguments.

    Often, they are simply the ones who create the most memorable image.

    Conditioning Through Headlines: How We Learn to Fear Entire Groups