photograph by karen pulfer focht
Jon W. Sparks
I recently conducted a survey that shows Memphis is ranked No. 1.
And I want to assure you that my intentions are pure, my methodology proven, and my results guaranteed.
I call it Ranking Madness, and it’s clearly (according to surveys) a function of a society that is compelled to measure and rate and sort, which is probably a defense against the evil forces of imponderables, abstractions, uncertainty, and life.
All within a margin of error, naturally.
Why do we so love rankings? Maybe it’s because numbers are tangible, making even the flightiest opinion appear more grounded. It’s so easy to gin up a top-ten list. Confess — you’ve done it, right? And we seem to love discussing them, except, maybe, those compiled by your ex.
I feel that I can speak with some authority since I’m on the receiving end of many press releases that purport to rank the popularity (or lack thereof) of anything that can be measured. Let me share a sampling:
Favorite candies (by state), top Tennessee towns for retirement (or small businesses or fishing or spring break), best opportunities for annihilation by earthquake (or tornado or hurricane or plague of locusts), best insurance companies (for 2025), best barbecue in the universe (more on this hot-sauce item in a moment).
The latest one in my inbox purports to tell which are the most heavily monitored cities in the country (Atlanta rocks the spy-cams!) and another says that three Tennessee cities are party hotspots for business executives. Since you won’t let it rest until you know, I’ll tell you that the fun times are in Nashville (No. 18), Knoxville (No. 25), and, finally, Memphis (No. 35). This doesn’t bother anyone really since Memphis’ official position is to ignore the other Tennessee cities, and the feeling is mutual.
But it’s worth noting that certain specific attractions were mentioned for each city in that roundup, which might lead one to suspect that there’s some influence afoot. And that gets to the real reasons a reporter’s inbox is jammed with pleas to spread the word on rankings: They want your eyeballs. Yes, yours.
Clickbait serves to hit nerves. It boosts traffic and helps sell a narrative. Branding is helped by rankings (U.S. News started ranking colleges in 1983 and, despite criticism, remains tops in that category). It comes down to profit and competition and anyone with the right budget can hire a research organization (PR firm) to cobble together (with AI) a survey to lead you to think more about urban green space or pro sports or child safety.
The problem is that real, unmeasured, uncategorized life is full of complexities that are freely ignored by list-makers with an agenda. So, when an intern is assigned to come up with some listicles for best barbecue in all creation, the result isn’t going to be about the “best,” but rather about the sound and fury signifying profitability and interest.
After all, everyone knows Texas brisket, Kansas City’s burnt ends, and whatever they do in any of the Carolinas are far inferior to Memphis barbecue. And don’t get me started on which ’cue shops have the best. Unless you want a long, contentious, smoky discussion (sound and fury).
Probably the favorite ranking topic is crime, which will lead to conclusions (horrors!). Crime data is measured differently by jurisdiction and the gathering of the info is a mess. Many such lists and surveys rely on the FBI, which finds out what it knows through submissions from law enforcement agencies that are voluntary and often incomplete. Oh, and they often have very different definitions of crimes — an altercation may be aggravated assault in one place and a simple and unreported assault in another.
The American Society of Criminology has slammed such rankings because they “fail to account for the many conditions affecting crime rates” and mislead more than they inform.
There’s more noise than signal out there, it seems. Except when it comes to Memphis, which, as we all know, and we all agree, is No. 1. For what? You decide.
