Television and the Catholic Home, Part 2

(Editor's Note: You can read the first part of Mr. Culbreath's feature on the “Moral Content of Television and Film” by clicking here.)

In addition to entertainment, television claims to be a purveyor of information. To that extent, perhaps it is redeemable. But the way in which television presents information should be analyzed carefully. Richard Weaver, writing in 1948, described the beginnings of the information revolution in his famous book “Ideas Have Consequences”. The following remarks pertain to radio but are perhaps even more relevant with respect to television:

“In our listening, voluntary or not, we are made to grow accustomed to the weirdest of juxtapositions: the serious and the trivial, the comic and the tragic, follow one another in mechanical sequence without real transition. During the recent war what person of feeling was not struck by the insanity of hearing advertisements for laxatives between announcements of the destruction of famous cities by aerial bombardment? Is it not a travesty of all sense to hear reports fraught with disaster followed by the comedy-variety with its cheap wit and arranged applause (this applause, of course, tells the listeners when to react and how and so further submerges them in massness). Here, it would seem, is the apothesis; here is the final collapsing of values, a fantasia of effects, suggesting in its wild disorder the debris left by a storm. Here is the daily mechanical wrecking of hierarchy.

Not to be overlooked in any gauging of influence is the voice of announcer and commentator. The metaphysical dream of progress dictates the tone, which is one of cheery confidence, assuring us in the face of all contrary evidence that the best is yet to be. Recalling the war years once more, who has not heard the news of some terrible tragedy, which might stagger the imagination and cause the conscientious artist to hesitate at the thought of its depiction, given to the world in the same tone that commends a brand of soap or predicts fair weather for the morrow?”

1948 was a long time ago. Now we have three generations of Catholics who have had their normal human sensitivity destroyed by radio and television news. Whatever the potential of television might be, the way in which television always presents the news has the effect of confusing the senses and dulling the conscience.

It should be noted that all men have been given an hierarchical order of charity. As a priest once explained to me, we owe the greatest charity to God and to those nearest to us. The constant news of tragedies and calamities around the world tends to disorder our priorities. When we let the evening news set our agenda, we give more thought and energy to problems 3,000 miles away than we do to our own families and neighborhoods.

In point of fact, television news is really no different from television entertainment. Most stories range from a few seconds to a minute in duration: there is no time to provide proper context, no time to explore cause and effect, and no intention of following up later. And every newscast uses the standard manipulations of television entertainment. Neil Postman, in his insightful book titled “Amusing Ourselves to Death” (which I highly recommend), writes the following:

“All television news programs begin, end, and are somewhere in between punctuated with music. I have found very few Americans who regard this custom as peculiar, which in fact I have taken as evidence for the dissolution of lines of demarcation between serious public discourse and entertainment. What has music to do with the news? Why is it there? It is there, I assume, for the same reason music is used in the theatre and in films — to create a mood and provide a theme for the entertainment. If there were no music — as is the case when any television program is interrupted for a news flash — viewers would expect something truly alarming, possibly life-altering. But as long as the music is there as a frame for the program, the viewer is comforted to believe that there is nothing to be greatly alarmed about; that, in fact, the events that are reported have as much relation to reality as do scenes in a play.”

Apart from the effort by news producers to manipulate the mood of the viewer and pre-determine his reaction, much of the news reported turns out to be completely meaningless anyway. This is especially true when it comes to opinion polls, which give us answers without questions, and opinions without knowledge. If pollsters were required to verify the knowledge of poll respondents, there would undoubtedly be far fewer polls. Neil Postman provides a humorous example hearkening back to the Reagan years:

“The latest poll indicates that 72 percent of the American public believes we should withdraw economic aid from Nicaragua. Of those who expressed this opinion, 28 percent thought Nicaragua was in central Asia, 18 percent thought it was an island near New Zealand, and 27.4 percent believed that ’Africans should help themselves’, obviously confusing Nicaragua with Nigeria. Of those polled, 61.8 percent did not know that we give economic aid to Nicaragua, and 23 percent did not know what ’economic aid’ means.”

This is the sort of thing that a television news-junkie fills his head with. Television discharges a vast amount of so-called information without any context or relevance: the news junkie doesn’t really understand it, and even if he did, there is nothing he may legitimately do with it. The news junkie is therefore deceived into thinking he has an informed opinion on everything under the sun, and if he doesn’t have an opinion, he had better get one fast. But the reality is that his opinions have been created and pre-packaged for popular consumption. Sometimes the news junkie will wake up and realize he has been manipulated for years. But he still clings to the idea that he must have a strong opinion on everything reported in the news, just so long as it is not a “mainstream” opinion. The news junkie only becomes free when he realizes that he knows next-to-nothing about NAFTA, next-to-nothing about fighting terrorism, next-to-nothing about the candidates in the next election — and that not being an expert on everything is OK. He becomes free when he empties his mind of the news and makes room for better things.

(Look for Part 3, “The Neurological Effects of Television,” here in the Catholic Exchange A&E Channel.)

Jeff Culbreath resides in Sacramento, California, with his wife and three children. The Culbreaths attend St. Stephen's Catholic Church, and are expecting their fourth child in February.