The Man on the Street Has Died


PUBLISHED: January 13, 2020

When I was a rookie at ABC News decades ago, our coverage of big stories—from war to impeachment to the World Series—always included plenty of man-on-the-street, or MOS. As soon as important news broke, a pack of reporters from TV, radio and print dashed to New York's iconic crossroads, Times Square or Grand Central Station, to learn what "average" folks were thinking.

MOS was never scientific. It consisted of quick sound bites from people given little time to think before blurting opinions. And it was almost always edited to create balance: If there were two sides to a story we sought to represent them equally. The process was quaint and sometimes misleading, but it did serve as a reminder that not all issues are black or white.

The man on the street as we knew him is dead. He may reappear occasionally during coverage of natural disasters or when political reporters chat up voters in battleground states. Most MOS coverage, however, has been replaced by a plethora of faceless polls—and even polling averages—along with tallies of likes, tweets, and Google searches.

Following the Democrats' debate in Miami last June, for example, USA Today reported, "Hawaii Rep. Tulsi Gabbard emerged as the clear winner by one objective standard: She got the most Google searches after the debate." In fact there was nothing "clear" or "objective" about the story. Did people search for information about Ms. Gabbard because they liked her positions? Or were they simply curious about that outspoken woman in the red blazer?

Who are these googling masses? Where do they live? How old are they? Do they look you in the eye when they speak? These metrics have a scientific sheen, but are no replacement for MOS and neither are the other digital facsimiles.

Now, when news breaks, reporters don't have trek to Times Square. They can open Twitter and have the world's opinions at their fingertips. But they really don't have to bother with the general public. Just wait a few seconds and politicians, entertainers and denizens of the B List will dish their digital opinions.

Following the Dec. 20 Democratic debate the New York Times ran a story under the headline, "Who Won the Democratic Debate? Experts Weigh In." The report consisted almost entirely of tweets, more than a dozen of them, from "experts" such as former Obama adviser David Axelrod, and Meredith Kelly, a former spokeswoman for Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand's presidential campaign.

In some ways reprinting tweets is more journalistically careless than MOS ever was. The statements aren't spontaneous, they're crafted as mini news releases. There's no follow-up, no back and forth with the reporter.

Yet, the power of Twitter should not be underestimated. From #MeToo and #BlackLivesMatter to scores of other influential hashtags, it has a profound effect on what journalists and politicians think about and report. But only 22% of American adults use Twitter, and its pockets of groupthink are not necessarily examples of individual expression—not common opinion.

One place where MOS remains a staple is in local news coverage. At the scene of a fire or horrific car crash reporters still go after quotes such as, "It looked like a war zone" (the line we heard most over the years at ABC News), usually spoken by people who had never been to one.

In the media lexicon, MOS actually has two meanings: "Man on the street" and "Mit out sound." Mit is German for "with" and this use of MOS refers to footage that is silent. You might say what remains of MOS in the digital age is now mostly MOS. The more tools we develop to give individuals a voice, the less we care about what they have to say.

(c) Peter Funt. This column originally appeared in The Wall Street Journal.



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