There’s a scene in the first quarter of “Broadcast News,” in which the heroine, Jane—a young producer at a major news network—gives a speech to a room full of reporters, producers and anchors at a television broadcasting convention. Her topic is the apparent danger their collective profession faces: the tendency for networks to report on commercially viable, dumbed-down, stories rather than actual news. She asks her colleagues, “We’re all secretly terrified by what’s happening, aren’t we?”
Yet the blank faces and premature exits indicate that the answer to that question is probably not what she expected. As the camera pans through the crowd, individuals in the room appear unfazed by the apparent decay of their prized profession’s integrity, applauding only when Jane shows a clip of what she declares isn’t news: a massive series of falling dominos. Visibly exhausted, she explains that the domino story was covered by all major networks on a night in which an alteration to nuclear disarmament policy went unaddressed. As the room quickly vacates without applause, each audience member seems to shrug off the relevance of Jane’s point, just as the American news media has collectively shrugged off similar warnings.
This distorted hierarchy of coverage—based on the dogma of ratings over substance—is an important part of the fictional network depicted in “Broadcast News,” just as it is a part of our own, real-life media complex. The largest networks are constantly indulging in the practices that Jane seems to think are endangering the news profession. Even if the stories aren’t always as overtly flashy as some feat of domino arrangement, there is a tendency to constantly cover the topic that is most easily sensationalized, forcing anchors and reporters to either recycle information or editorialize. This is an unoriginal observation and certainly, if one accounts for the marriage of networks’ rabid ratings obsessions with the 24-hour news cycle, the end result—the current state of news broadcasting—is not wholly surprising. Of course, that doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. The news media’s propensity to constantly focus on ostensible threats without detail-oriented reporting, contributes to a mass-paranoia, even enhancing those threats in certain circumstances.
And no matter the perceived geographic distance of these media-driven perils, distorted cultural perceptions of what constitutes a legitimate domestic threat are consistently perverted by a system dependent on partial information and sensationalism. Broad, violent brush strokes are rarely able to render a complete depiction of a single individual, let alone of an entire, ostensibly distinct culture—instead they provide justification for discrimination and hatred.
Of course, this isn’t unique to the news media.
In 1940, Charlie Chaplin released his film “The Great Dictator.” He conceived the movie’s components in 1938—before Germany’s invasion of Poland and the start of World War II in Europe. Chaplin applies his unique brand of satire to the denunciation of 1930s’ fascism and the ridiculousness of empire. The film centers on a Jewish barber—played by Chaplin—who finds himself and his home under the rule of an incompetent and hateful tyrant—also played by Chaplin. The film displays a clear lack of awareness about the atrocities committed under the Nazi regime—a fact its star admittedly regretted—but the intent is clear.
In the final minutes of the film, the barber conceits, “In this world there is room for everyone…The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way…We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity.”
As I write my column this semester, I hope to truly analyze and understand the mangled logic by which arbitrarily divisive institutions—and their unyielding machinery—thrive, rather than accepting those false truths learned by cultural rote.
My hope is that through this column, I may use art as an aid—rather than an affectation—to better understand the institutions and perceptions by which sometimes-dangerous distinctions and dogmas are formed. My very brief look at the news media’s cultural implications has been more relevant to the intent of this column than to any actual analysis, insight or legitimate tracing of culpability. Yet, as I consider Jane’s words, my hope is that I may employ art—whether rendered with a camera, typewriter or paintbrush—not as a group of falling dominos, but as the means to something more substantial.
I hope to avoid that lack of feeling Chaplin speaks of; to maneuver around that tendency towards thinking too much, feeling too little.
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