Hollywood, Littleton, and Us - violence

National Review, July 26, 1999 by Rob Long

How to think about the violence debate.

Mr. Long, a writer for television in Hollywood, is a contributing editor of National Review.

Jerry Springer, the Bill Clinton of talk-show hosts, had a problem. His show was taking flak for its violent content-a guest's two "secret lovers" would suddenly explode into flying fists, say, or a guest's wife and transvestite boyfriend would rocket out of their chairs, slapping and kicking-and after the Littleton massacre it must have seemed time to cool it.

Cool it he did, replacing a brace of racy episodes with older, tamer reruns. His ratings promptly took a dive. Vindicated, he is back to his old tricks and can now answer his pious critics with a simple, "I am giving the people what they want."

Bill Clinton, the Jerry Springer of presidents, had a problem. His administration was taking flak for its slavish devotion to Hollywood-the Lincoln Bedroom has accommodated more sleeping movie stars than the technical-awards presentation at the Oscars-and in the wake of Littleton, amid concerns about media violence, he needed to show that he is not in the pocket of an interest group.

Show it he did. He directed the Department of Justice to investigate the film industry's efforts to market movies to teenagers, and he called on the industry to "police" itself. He also attended a $2 million fundraiser at the home of a Hollywood mogul. Thus, like Jerry, he has done his part without undue strain.

Everyone, ultimately, will do his part. The people who are paid to fret about the First Amendment and censorship will do so, in congressional committees and on op-ed pages. (The people who are paid to fret about the Second Amendment will do likewise, but that's another story.) There will almost certainly be the passage of some kind of pointless legislation. And this could not be a serious social issue, and this could not be fin de siecle America, without an incoherent televised debate in which an Entertainment Industry Smoothie will stop the discussion in its tracks by looking doe-eyed at the camera and asking, "Is Saving Private Ryan violent? You bet! Is Schindler's List violent? Yes, Ted, it is. But do I want my kids to know about World War II and the unspeakable horror of the Holocaust? Yes, Ted, I do. By God, I do. And if that makes me a bad parent, then so be it!" At that point, a Noted Shrink will chime in with a "help your kids manage their anger" jag, and a Christian Media Critic will try to smile warmly (just like the media consultant told him to) and hold his hands out, palms up (just like the media consultant told him to), and say, "Ted, all we're asking for is information. Parents need information about the movies and shows and video games their children are watching." Pretty soon, that'll be over and Friends will be on.

What no one will talk about is the impossibility of regulating the hundreds- soon, maybe, thousands-of channels piped into television sets all over the country. What no one will talk about is that broadcast television-the only form of TV over which the federal government has any real leverage, via the FCC- licensing process-is remarkably free of violent content, preferring on the whole to concentrate on smutty and crass sexual innuendo. Cable television, especially on the premium channels, makes for a lucrative market in both soft-core pornography and nihilistic violence, but cable is a paid-for service. You get it only if you pay for it-about 50 bucks a month for the basic package, where I live-so regulating the content is not only a constitutional can of worms, it's also kind of strange, like demanding that the government allow you to buy the fat-laden mayonnaise but prevent you from eating it once you get home. (Though that concept gets increasingly less strange as the years unfold. See, for instance, the tobacco debate.)

Focusing on the "violence" in an episode of Jerry Springer is a perfect indication of how wrongheaded most media critics are. A couple of drag queens flailing away at each other, or two guys swinging wide-of-the-mark fists over a plump, unattractive girl, is hardly the root cause of the current wave of adolescent freak-outs. The really sick thing about the Springer show isn't the fisticuffs. It's the cruelty: People ambush their girlfriends and boyfriends (sometimes both in the same show) with revelations and confessions designed to destroy them. It's hard to keep in mind, what with the screaming and the air- pumping, but some poor schmo is always left out of the joke. Some real person is sitting in a television studio getting his feelings trampled on in the most callous way, usually fighting back tears while the tormentor wears a kind of half-proud, half-embarrassed smile. Even drag queens and hoochie girls deserve better.

Rather than worry about the effect a few Jerry Springer melees have on our kids, we should be appalled by the show's cheerful, audience-pleasing cruelty. What, I wonder, do kids make of that?

Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, the two boys from Littleton who gleefully murdered their schoolmates last spring, kicked off our latest national discussion on media violence, but it's clear that this discussion will eventually run the talkers hoarse. Like one of those college-dorm debates, this one will double back on itself a few times ("Hey, isn't the news violent?") before it peters out. The huge gush of entertainment product that floods into our houses every day is impossible to sort through, label, rate, and censor.