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Historians have always had a tough time writing about media. The danger of technological determinism tends to loom over any discussion of technologies such as television or the Internet—the risk of arguing that a particular medium or device causes people to behave or think a certain way. That fear has been present since the earliest days of media studies, when the War of the Worlds and the pioneering audience research of Paul Lazarsfeld and the Bureau of Applied Social Research in the 1930s raised questions about the “effects” that mass media had on people, both as individuals and groups. Meanwhile, the power of Hitler’s megaphone implied that people as a mass were pliant, susceptible to a sort of top-down manipulation that sits uneasily with most historians, with their concern for contingency, complexity, and agency in the past.
[[File|:The_Democratic_Sound.jpg|thumbnail|The Democratic Sound by Fred Turner]]
Media have often been something that happened behind or adjacent to the serious stuff in history, technologies that only occasionally impinge on the course of history itself (think of the Kennedy-Nixon debate, or the yellow journalism of the Spanish-American war). However, this hardly means that historians have entirely neglected media. Following the pioneering work of Raymond Williams and Elizabeth Eisenstein in the 1970s, several waves of fascinating historiography have grappled with the complex meaning of print, radio, and other technologies. Alain Corbin even offered his provocative entry into the little-known canon of campanarian history, considering how bells resonated across the “auditory landscape” of rural France. (Anyone who remembers ''The Semaphore Version of Wuthering Heights'' can take relish in his work.)