Indecency breeds hypocrisy on Capitol Hill
Congress actually acknowledged the importance of such personal responsibility this month by overwhelmingly voting to ban lawsuits against fast-food marketers for abuse of their legal (albeit highly caloric) product. Still, the logic behind the so-called "cheeseburger bill" has somehow skirted the hullabaloo over broadcast indecency -- an indulgence defended less vigorously than the consumption of greasy burgers.
Consistency is the first casualty in any discussion of broadcast standards, as Democrats and Republicans unite to expose themselves as hypocrites. And while the conventional wisdom is that Republicans dislike sex and Democrats object to violence, their incoherence in threatening legislative remedies cuts deeper than that.
Republicans pay lip service to a pro-business stance that respects marketplace solutions, but they can't ignore the wing of their party determined to promote "family values." Moreover, the big business in question -- otherwise known as "the liberal media" -- generally doesn't support the GOP and doles out awards to the likes of Tim Robbins and Sean Penn, so screw 'em.
By contrast, Democrats love nothing better than curtailing big business. The problem is they advocate free speech and freedom of choice -- at least when burning a flag or access to abortion is involved. Squelching smut, however, provides a family-values toehold by exhibiting their commitment to protect children -- part of the Clinton doctrine, which says one must shield kids from indecent acts until they're old enough to participate in them.
Both parties, then, face these conflicting impulses. In passing the cheeseburger bill, Rep. David Dreier (R-Cal.) sensibly noted, "Americans are eating themselves to death and looking for someone to blame." Yet that contradicts Congress' stance toward indecency, unless broadcasters and cable companies are somehow forcing people to tune in Howard Stern and order the Hot Network.
As for the left, its disconnect could be seen at a March 13 conference sponsored by the Center for Creative Voices in Media. Although titled "Can Media Artists Survive Media Consolidation?," a related theme involved how artists can weather the indecency backlash that some opponents of consolidation endorse.
Common Cause president Chellie Pingree characterized the GOP-majority Federal Communications Commission as big-media stooges. "Whatever you need to do to make a lot of money, go ahead and do it," she said, summing up their philosophy.
In the case of indecency, though, even the commission's laissez-faire Republican chairman, Michael Powell, has undergone an election-year rebirth, while Democrats Michael Copps and Jonathan Adelstein prod him to go further. In his keynote address at the same event, Adelstein said there is "a big difference between creative expression and pandering for profit," which appears to suggest that the only art worthy of First Amendment protection is that which no one wants to see.
Even media outlets have joined the bandwagon: A Los Angeles Times column anointed a Florida parent who lobbied against radio shock jock Bubba the Love Sponge a "hero" for his crusade, which contributed to Clear Channel's decision to fire him.
Douglas Vanderlaan explained that his intention was to prevent kids from "having to hear people talking about sex and pornography," though I'm still fuzzy on how they "have" to hear that, any more than they "have" to gorge themselves on Chicken McNuggets and fries. The only difference is that concerned parent who urged closing McDonald's because children might overdo it on junk food would likely be showered with ridicule.
The most notable aspect of the Creative Voices gathering centered on what positive steps foes of media consolidation would like to see undertaken, beyond just preventing Viacom, News Corp. and Clear Channel from gobbling up the few stations they don't already own.
Broadcasters, after all, are charged with certain obligations by virtue of operating over public airwaves. What doesn't quite compute is how expunging indecent material (and it's a challenge merely defining what that entails) furthers any related objectives that serve the public interest.
In other words, does policing indecency foster more comprehensive election coverage, better children's programming or less fear mongering within newscasts that inflate minuscule threats to boost ratings? Not one damn bit.
Citing the dearth of political reporting on local TV, Marty Kaplan, associate dean of the USC Annenberg School for Communication and director of the Norman Lear Center, told conference attendees, "The murderous pressure for ratings has largely trumped any other goal."
Precisely. Which is why most industry pledges made under pressure are invariably short-lived, abetted by another attribute Democrats and Republicans share -- namely, a short attention span.
Whatever the rhetoric, campaigns to clean up television peter out because support for such efforts runs a mile wide and an inch deep. People like the idea in theory, but when it comes to lever-pulling, voters preoccupied with defense, education, Social Security, abortion, taxes and the economy won't be swayed by one party's failure to shield kids from Janet Jackson's breast.
If that sounds cynical, it's because anyone who follows the issue has seen politicians rattle sabers and declare victory many times before. Consider the late Sen. Paul Simon's warning in 1993, when he told the industry, in essence, "Regulate yourselves better, or the government will do it for you." After extracting various concessions, Rep. Edward Markey called the adoption of more specific content advisories "the dawning of a new era."
That same year, Simon assembled Hollywood's elite for a summit on TV violence. The highlight at the end of a long day came when the late producer Edgar J. Scherick finally rose in disgust and began shouting back at the panelists, asking what entitled them to lecture anyone about morality.
The answer, then and now, is that Congress holds the gavel and ostensibly the high ground, since it's hard to argue with supporting a more enriching TV menu. There's a wide gulf, however, between proposing a better diet and actually sticking to it -- one of the flabby realities in a fast-food nation.
