MASS COMMUNICATION-ASSIGNMENT

Name: Enock Gyan
Level: 100
Date: 19th March, 2010

Q.Critique media effects as stated in the hypodermic needle theory

Mass media plays a very crucial role in framing and reframing public opinion, connecting the world to individuals and reproducing the self image of society. The mass media in the 1940s and the 1950s were perceived as a powerful influence. The fast rise and the popularization of radio and television, the emergence of persuasion industries such as advertising and propaganda and Hitler’s monopolization of the mass media during the World War II to unify the German public behind the Nazi party amongst other factors, contributed to the need to investigate the effect of the mass media on society. In an attempt to demonstrate the effects of the mass media on the public Harold Laswell propounded the hypodermic needle theory in his pioneering work ‘Propaganda technique in the world war’(1927).

The phrasing ‘hypodermic needle’ is meant to give a mental picture of the direct, strategic and planned infusion of a message into an individual. Also known as the hypodermic-syringe model, this communication model holds that an intended message is directly received and wholly accepted by the receiver. The Psychological strings of the theory is rooted in behaviorism and based on Ivan Pavlov’s stimuli response learning theory. Laswell stated that human response to the media is uniform and immediate. Upon careful dissection in the theater of mass communication, the hypodermic needle theory suffers some malady.

Research has challenged the propagation that individuals’ response to the media is uniform and immediate. The most famous often cited for the hypodermic needle model was the 1938 broadcast of the world war and the subsequent reaction of widespread panic among its American mass audience. In a research led by Paul Azarsfeld and Herta Herzog, their findings showed that reaction to the broadcast were in fact diverse and were largely determined by situational and attitudinal attributes of listeners. This research is in consonance to ‘timing’ under the basic dimensions of media effects research. It stipulates that media effects can occur either directly or a long time after exposure to the media content. Thus individual response to media exposure varies according to the physiological, psychological cognitive, emotional, attitudinal and behavioral coloration of the individual. For instance in Ghana, interview conducted by an Accra based radio station to determine the response of individuals to the earth quake hoax that swept through the country recently, is a classical example. Whiles some people stormed out of their rooms like a madman chasing nothing, others stayed in doors and remained unperturbed on hearing the news about an impending earthquake.

The assertion that individual’s swallow everything that trickles down from the media under the hypodermic needle theory lacks meat. According to the Agenda –setting theory, the press may not be successful much of the time in telling people what to think, but it is conspicuous enough in telling people what to think about. This theory accounts for the complex nature of human attitude and recognizes that people do not accept what the media always say. There is enough evidence that abounds to the effect that people in our society today do not take the media as the final authority as far as news is concerned. The media now serves as the source for society to receive information and filter it by herself. For example a news item that reports on a corruption scandal involving one of the most respected Statesmen will be hardly swallowed by the Ghanaian public prior to the provision of hardcore evidence or a court ruling. Underscoring this essential human attribute, Berleson (1948) aptly comments: ‘many hear, but few listen’

In sum, it is unequivocal to stress that the hypodermic needle theory is not based on empirical findings from research but rather on assumptions about human nature. Thus the absence of a scientific orientation has flawed the theory as incoherent and inconsistent and in stark contrast to the situation on the ground. In spite of the material inaccuracies that clothes the hypodermic needle theory; it nevertheless served as a trailblazer for other modified theories on media effects to emerge. Others that followed this breakthrough includes the ‘Cultivation theory’ by George Gerbner, the ‘Social action theory’ by Anderson and Meyer, the ‘Agenda setting theory’ by Maxwell Mc combs and Donald and the ‘Media dependency theory’ by Ball Rokeach and DeFlner. These theories have managed to tackle media effects holistically by considering the social, psychological and behavioral implications of media exposure.

Bathing in a pool of passion

When my mobile phone began to cough out my favorite jingles On the night before the fateful day, hardly could I fish out the caller. As I dragged myself forcibly out of sleep to respond to the call I was surprised to find out that the call was coming from Oswald, a good friend of mine who had contended fiercely that the Black satellites were going to loose in their encounter with the Selacao of Brazil in the FIFA under 20 world cup finals in Egypt when we met during the day. Oswald is an enthusiastic Chelsea fan and has being a friend since primary one when we both attended Abeka '4'primary school at New Fadama.I love him for his joviality and diligence.

I always will remember him for a single statement he made which turned a whole class into a scene almost like that of a market day at Mallam Atta in Accra Newtown. In 1998 whiles in class two, our school was rocked by a storm which ripped off the roofing sheets. As efforts were underway to secure for us a temporal place I happened to visit my brother, Eugene in his school with Oswald. Upon arrival we met a teacher in Eugene's class who asked why we were not in school at that time of the day. Quickly Oswald managed to respond rather loudly which in my candid opinion deserves an arrest for messing up the Queen's language. Hear him: 'Please madam our singli(meaning roofing sheet) has fly'. The class which was once quiet suddenly begun to laugh out their heads off amidst cheers and jeers at Oswald who ignorant of the atrocity he has committed against the English language equally beamed with smiles. However the teacher although also had his share of hilarity was quick to put Oswald on the right path. And ever since that day Eugene's friends any time they met us or him alone called him 'our singli has fly' in a very funny which always got him gnashing his teeth. It is surprising that he has grown with this habit and so easily fumes at the slightest provocation. He always gets mad when he hears any ill comment about the 'blues'. But as a Liverpool fan he would most often tease me anytime we lost a game. Due to this attitude many were taken by surprise that our friendship had survived the test of time.

In fact I could not believe my eyes when I saw that he was the one calling considering the heated argument which occurred between the two of us in the day. 'What at all could push him to call me and even at such an odd hour?' I asked myself and paused to guess. I finally decided to pick the call although I was very tired and heavy-eyed. 'Hellooo' I spoke quiet leisurely. 'You never walk alone (as he called me, being a Liverpool fan) I get som dream right thee nooo'. 'Charlie you for fit wedge till morrow' I responded in a sluggish way. 'Oh you bore, make you no fuck up'. He said. Before I could say anything he had started narrating his dream. 'The blues Charlie Chelsea no go loose again, I sorry I mean the black satellites. I conf sef.charlie you dey'. 'Sure' I responded but this time in a lively way as I itched to find out what exactly his dream was. He continued 'you never walk alone morrow match go goo give Ghana. As I see for ma dream ego tough but we go win.Ma dream no dey fail oooh. Tofiakwah!' 'Really' I said in utter dismay. 'Charlie bed' he said snappily as he cut the line.

I was dumbfounded by the way he spoke. Hmmm I sighed and went

back to sleep. At dawn I was awakened by a strange sound. The sound of an unusual 'myrrrrr' of a sheep clashed with a cock's usual 'Kokrokooo'.It certainly meant that something special was really at stake. But how could I have read into such a strange occurrence considering my superstitious instinct which I have contracted from a society where every single event is considered to have an evil element present.

Knowing certainly that it was the day set for the encounter between the black satellites and the Brazilians I sat closely beside the radio set to hear the announcement on the squad that will initiate Ghana's victory before setting off for campus. I could feel an aura of optimism engulf the whole GIJ campus upon arrival. Hope beyond hope, confidence beyond confidence- it was just simply amazing. Everyone I engaged that day was just high spirited. Not just because of 'patriotic Blindness' but the facts could not fail but speak for it. 'It was a pure soccer formula which could not fail' some had concluded.

As I journeyed back home after school I snooped the street corners, in the buses, at the news stands, in the stalls and all I could sense was nothing but the sweet aroma of 'optimism' about triumph. At last the moment I was eagerly yearning for was due. I hurriedly walked to my usual soccer bay to get a feel of real soccer action and spectatorship as well as meet my 'fine' friend Oswald.

Eyes popped and rolled tenaciously at the television box in front of us, as the game of the chase and waggle for an inflated ball begun. The booing of rhythmic words like 'goal', 'no' 'ho' 'go' were very uncommon on the lips of my compatriots. The unlucky hour dawned in the course of the encounter when the Referee awarded a needless infringement in favor of the Brazilians which saw off the pitch Daniel Addo a key Ghanaian central defender in the first half.. In the heat of such nervous strain I was surprised when I heard a shout through the crowd: 'fair play for you'. There was an instantaneous uproar. 'Wicked spectacle' an aged man in his sixties who stood beside me quickly howled and bawled whiles staring in the direction of the one who had made such an unfriendly comment. The man's coinage for spectator as 'spectacle' invited a peal of laughter. Moving closer I discovered to my surprise that the gentleman who had caused the brouhaha was my own Oswald who I had not chanced across since I got there. A slim woman in her early thirties defied the glee full atmosphere and chipped in Ga: 'Ghana nyo ji le lo?'To wit is he a Ghanaian at all?' This statement stirred up a of shoal of insults targeted directly at Oswald. At this moment I was simply sorry for my friend. Looking at him I could find my once cheerful friend out of the blue become as cool and chilly as iced water. I drew closer and paddled him on the shoulder as an expression of pity.

At the end of the first half it became obvious that there was an outbreak of dead noise in the whole country. People painfully lamented over the absence of the central defender.Infact the 'Satellites mania' had hit every part of the city. With a maimed side in the second half and through out the extra time most Ghanaians sat on tenter hooks. The shout of 'gooal' was only heard intermittently through out this section of the game any time there was an attempt by the Ghanaian players to score. Some people had given up when they saw the nature of the game at stake. To be frank it was a tough time-playing with 10 men against the 11 man Squad of soccer giants Brazil. I moved from where I was to get a sachet of water at a Kiosk nearby so as to quench my thirst. Wonders they say will never end. Upon reaching the 'Iyigbe' store as it was known, I uncovered a truth which I had always doubted any time Oswald had told me. Mr.Ahiadjo affectionately known as 'full supporter' who is the father of Mamma the owner of the kiosk was said to have being shedding tears any time a national team stood the risk of loosing a game. He appeared twitchy, hands crossed over his head which was scuffed with the national colors and had developed red eyes like that of a hungry lion. As I poured the cool water down my throat I could not help but notice tears run down his cheeks when a Brazilian player nearly tapped a ball into our net save by the goal keeper's intervention. I nodded in surprise. What a sight it was! 'This is the real meaning of passion' I told myself as I quickly relocated to my usual position. I immediately heard a thunderous 'Amen' from one slim woman decently dressed in a traditional 'kente' cloth which of late is very hard to come by. By her dress code I was no mean surprised about her religious inclination. May heaven fall his grace on all such wonderful ladies who dress to glorify their maker. 'What is that?' Oswald's old boy asked rather furiously. It was through this query that we got to know that Adom fm was undertaking a spiritual exercise to secure victory for the Satellites. 'Apuuuuu God no dey football inside. Why do you fool yourselves like that' one man snapped. To be frank this man also got a fair share of insults as my friend had suffered. This time around I heard Oswald Laughing so loudly on top of his voice. At last when the sound of the whistle wrapped off the one hundred and twenty (120) minutes soccer show, the bonfire of anxiety was partially quenched as most people expressed hope in penalty-shoot outs as against a soccer action in which the Brazilians, won the ball possession rating through out the game.

As the selection of players took place on the pitch, a toss of faith was also in process as the religiosity of the Ghanaian was not left out. Besides me stood Abdul Rahim a staunch Muslim who led a group of Muslims to recite some versus from the Quran to claim Allah's favor on the satellites at that crucial point. I was fascinated by the way they quickly pulled themselves together to assemble mats which they spread on the ground to sit on. Just some few meters away I also spotted some women praying seriously amidst speaking in tongues. And within some few minutes a lot of people including myself had already joined them to sing some hot praises as a sign that victory was already ours. I enjoyed every bit of this religious exercise. Some jama boys were also present as they got arrested in the throb of the drum and danced to some traditional songs-all to affirm an impending victory.

In fact I was amazed that people could openly embrace diversity in pursuance of a common good. It was a beautiful sight which I believe the angels in heaven will certainly smile at. As the penalty- shoot outs started I saw my good friend draw closer to me as he wrapped his arms around my neck. Others had either done a similar thing or held hands tightly irrespective of gender. In fact this was the single moment which aroused the passion in me as I could feel goose pimples developed all over my body. The spectacular saves by the goal keeper attracted tremendous applause from the teeming crowd.

And before Agyeman Badu was about to kick the wining goal all the Jama boys had already gone bear chested with Mr.Okantey a Drinking spot operator promising what he described as 'free booze' for everyone if the kick manages to give the satellites the long awaited victory.

And when Agyeman Badu's winning goal meant that we had lifted The trophy as pioneers in Africa On a 4 against 3 goals aggregate On penalties , oh my goodness the sight is too much for tongue and pen to describe- dance ,acrobatics, hugs and what have you. Oswald had simply vanished from the scene to follow the 'Jama' boys.

It is a night I will hardly forget. On the street vehicles tooted their horns amidst music from loud speakers which succeeded in electrifying the whole atmosphere. As the Jama boys took to the streets they attracted a very large following most of them women who waved pieces of cloth in the sky to show full appreciation to God for the favor done us and not any man and I mean any man. The 'free booze 'Party was accompanied with my favorite 'Egwee' song as we

Celebrated the victory of our gallant heroes in grand style. And far away I could spot Oswald 'digging' with old boy 'wicked spectacle'.

Poem:The Akagu court of trespass

Behind the clouds,
The sun spits it merciless fire
Ghostly spirits walks forcefully
In their presence the palm branches tremble
And massage each other
Like fresh couples making love
Beneath we sit; at the court of trespass
In the womb of the palace
Our reddish eyes are lucid
Like a Yoruba hunter on a hot chase
Baptized in sweat to release his woe
Having sworn to his wife by the gods
To bring a catch for Amala

Sometimes it is hard for us to understand
The suffering label we wear
Yet the market women's gossip holds water
That our new Chief, Mensa, not in command of his zip
Sneaks into Agbosu's house every market day
And unleash his carnal hunger on the cajoling mistress
But whiles enjoying the sweet stolen water
On the twelfth market day after his ascension
Was caught by Agbosu
Who set did set the clever tap
To roof his sins, he names Agbosu as his second in command,
For by Akagu custom a chief names his favorite to help him rule
And we were made the sacrifice for atonement

Agbosu is intoxicated with power
His judgment is cruel and sinful
By means of devilish accusations and plots
He has raped our land of good people he calls enemies
With tears in our eyes we banished our eminent citizens
Okidi the brave hunter, who kills the antelopes for our sacrifices with his bare hands, Gokpe the medicine man who knows all the herbs in the forest than his own skin,
Sogo the wise linguist who knows our traditions and culture from womb to tomb and Akuaye the old village nurse who reduces our wives pain at childbirth
Their departure has indeed opened the darkest chapter of our lives
Oh Agbosu you are a demon
Thou art the torn in our flesh
By thee a dagger of sorrow stabs our souls

But tempus fugit
Agbosu now suffers the same sickness that gave him power
He was caught red-handed today
Playing delightful bed games with the chief's wife in broad daylight
With sweet anger we have brought them to the court of trespass
The mighty gods of Akagu demand their blood
Mensa is failing to perform his last duty for our exercise
For by custom his voice confirms the death penalty
He is gripped with fear and shakes like a prey of epilepsy
He fears that Mensa will expose his sins if he pronounce his death
But we the sons and daughters of Akagu, do not care how they settle this
Our stones are already falling from our manhood wrappers
For whether Mensa talks or not, every Caesar must accept his tribute

By Enock Gyan
Ghana Institute Journalism

Poem:The last Respect

Odehyie is gone
Death should have waited
At 4O, still a house help?
No wife and no child, ebei
I still wonder why he rejected the pregnancy
Adjoa Mansah's of course
Anyway let me tidy my nose
Am in the gathering of snoopers

Until today I never knew the poor man had a family
All these fools were there when, when...ah!
Let me hold my tongue
Nonsense! What will this showy funeral do?
They call it last respect
Last respect my foot!
'Akohyefo', liars
It is a shame

Today we are under a banquet
A feast like that of a king
My poor friend had sworn he never takes meat
He often ate his usual gari and hot pepper with tears in his eyes

But when his master, Okoto offered him a fowl last Christmas

The Oath changed overnight
And today see, a sea of chicken to match 'fufu'
This is a God forsaken gathering

Ah! A hungry man's funeral turns to a party
And look at those prostitutes twisting themselves like worms

They want their contours to be a magnet for cash.Delilahs

Death is indeed dead
My friend, now a piece of junk would have grabbed if he was alive

But today his time is over
A thousand uncovered blond ladies will not tickle his mad feelings

To call him to action will be nothing but a mere sick joke

Is this respect?
Drinking, dancing and flirting?
As for me, for all this food and drinks to go waste then I must burst

I am here to take the last respect and not the dead

But wait, how can I transport some food home for Araba my Wife?

Oh yes, a big bag like Congo
Hey boys buy me 'Ghanamust go'
Rats! Be fast

Odehyie you have died a fool's death
Why did you do that to yourself?
Thirty-three bottles of palm wine?
You have left with me with too many troubles to bear

Aha I said so; there comes Davi as poisonous as a python

She needs her money for the 'Oboglo' we took last month.

Odehyie will you come out of your crazy home down there

Come and pay your share of the debt and get back now!

A fish cught in a net

On a visit to Tefle, a fish trapped in a net by one little boy who later gave me his name as Abgeshie caught my attention. It was really an interesting sight to behold. The wagging of the tail and the jiggling of the body of the fish in a fruitless attempt to escape shook the net briskly but there were no gains made as far as the freedom of the helpless creature was concerned. The firm little hands of the Voltarian seemed to have more experience as it wrapped up the net immediately with both hands. Beaming with smiles Agbeshie set off for the house and told me he was going to grill his catch for a solid match with 'Akple'and hot pepper. Nature indeed is unfair. Poor fish!


In my mind's eye, I could not help but see the majority of journalist in this country as been in the same shoes with the poor fish. The sad tale common to both parties is that they have been caught in a net trap which denies them of their freedom. The net trap that has caught journalist is that which has been woven by so called democrats who hold it in their power to supply the fire that bakes the news bread. It is the most unholy rape against our democracy as the active watch dogs of society has been hypnotized into becoming robotic participants. Indeed our democracy has being fragile and will remain like that until this problem is resolved.

It is very saddening that after over fifty years of nationhood and with the concession to an open-minded environment, the media still lacks introspection. The state owned media has been forced to embrace the culture of silence and horn - blowing for a sitting government since the inception of democracy in 1992.

God save our democracy!
Although some private media are being fair and firm, their efforts are being blinded by a good number of them who are gradually becoming a thorn in the flesh of our toddling democracy, as most of them continue to beat the shameful drums of nudity and political vendetta in a faithful attempt to exploit the unlearned masses. Such acts include concocting stories, the blatant parade of sex, making allegations which lack meat, the conscious inflation and deflation of figures which leaves much to be desired.

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I do not reject the fact that journalist; belonging to a political structure with diverse ideologies should have their own ideological provenance. A Media house which operates within a particular ideological lacuna in a democracy is fair but certainly foul when it becomes blind to truth. The posture of a jaundiced eye assumed by the press in performing their analytical and interpretative function has affected the thinking and behavioral posture of the public in Ghana: as every issue is seen with either the tribal or partisan eyes.

To press for the independence of Journalist in Ghana is like trying to disentangle a spider from its web with the hope that it finds solace without its abode. The criticality of the issue lies in the fact that journalist have a very sleek autonomy as they are pressed to satisfy their employers even before they consider the welfare of society. Also, considering the skimpy remuneration that Journalists receive the call that they refrain from taking “soli” (disguised gifts to lobby their conscience) is one which is quiet redundant in itself. This is the exact picture of a fish caught in a net trap that I am talking about.

Indeed the absence of introspection on the media landscape which has been greeted with unnecessary factionalism and political vendetta puts our democracy in real danger. If those to whose door steps this unholy drama can be traced to fold their arms and watch unperturbed, then let it be made clear to them that another Rwanda and Kenya is about to ruin their homes.

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By Enock Gyan
Ghana Institute of Journalism