When President-elect John F. Kennedy decided to name his own brother attorney general, he anticipated a bit of adverse reaction–and so, he joked to friends, he planned to tiptoe onto his front porch in the middle of the night and whisper softly, “It’s Bobby.”
I can relate. Deep in the deepest dark of midnight, I plan to creep out onto my stoop and murmur, “Maybe Jerry Falwell was right.”
Like Kennedy, then, I may get by with uttering the outrageous, the unthinkable, the appallingly contrarian, by doing it when nobody expects it.
Falwell, you will recall, is credited with warning parents that the TV series “Teletubbies” includes an ostensibly male character who, with his purplish pigmentation, triangular head ornament and effeminate accouterments, might be a subliminal advertisement for homosexuality. Predictably, this assertion unloosed a torrent of abuse from op-ed columnists, social observers and TV critics, most of whom made violent fun of Falwell’s contention that a cute little show might harbor nefarious desires to promote an alternative lifestyle.
Having waited patiently for the storm of scorn to subside, I now feel it is safe to make this suggestion: Perhaps Falwell’s assertion deserved a more sympathetic and sophisticated hearing.
Is “Teletubbies” part of some secret strategy to alter the sexual orientation of the Fisher-Price set? Doubtful. OK, ridiculous. But why did Falwell’s point–that children’s programming should be carefully scrutinized for messages that may lie beneath its gentle pastel surface–evoke such instant disdain, such mirthful incredulity? Why was it such heresy to suggest that there may indeed be more to certain shows than meets the eye?
If children’s programming is not a fertile soil for the transmission of ideas and attitudes, then why do educators insist that producers implant messages about issues such as sharing, tolerance and the importance of washing one’s hands and eating one’s vegetables? The same people who mocked Falwell for suggesting that “Teletubbies” might include subterranean social points are the ones who praise “Sesame Street” for its sly, subtle way of imparting information and values.
How can children’s programming be both agenda-free–as Falwell’s critics claim–and agenda-filled, as those same critics claim elsewhere?
Television network executives have been taken to task for a similar paradox. First, they insist violent TV shows and shows depicting drug use and irresponsible sexual behavior have absolutely no effect on behavior; viewers don’t imitate what they see. So leave us alone, you critics of “Melrose Place” and “Martial Law.” Then, quick as a wink (or perhaps a Tinky-Winky), the executives congratulate themselves, usually in the midst of some self-serving public service campaign, for the positive messages embedded in prime-time programs, such as storylines discouraging drunken driving, date rape or bulimia.
So which is it? Are TV shows vessels for subliminal ideas?
Part of the reason Falwell’s pronouncement received such harsh treatment, of course, is because of the source. Falwell has proven himself a small-minded hypocrite on so many issues that even the most fair-minded of observers are not inclined to cut him a break. If the “Teletubbies” attack had come from someone unencumbered by a reputation as a pious pettifogger, the response might have been somewhat different.
Another reason the “Teletubbies” affair monopolized the minds and inkwells of the nation’s social observers is our conflicted attitude toward homosexuality. Some people think it’s a sin; others think it’s not. (That is why we can have, in the same medium, a series such as “Will & Grace” that treats homosexuality as a casual detail and one such as “Ellen” in which a character’s homosexuality is enough for an hourlong special episode). Hence Falwell’s charge– above and beyond its unlikeliness –struck at an ambivalence that troubles the national soul.
Yet if we can manage to overlook the fact that Falwell and his representatives were the messengers, the message is important. It is this: Adults need to keep a close eye on television, especially children’s television. For, despite vigorous claims to the contrary, we’re still in the dark about how thoroughly visual and aural stimulation can direct the consciousness. As any cognitive researcher worth her or his sticky electrodes will tell you, we have only the most rudimentary idea at this point of how the brain turns pictures into ideas.
Given that mystery, adults ought to watch the TV shows their kids are watching, thereby making up their own minds about a show’s worthiness, about the values it appears to proffer. If it turns out, at long last, that shows don’t really affect attitudes or behavior, then fine; all you’ve wasted are those hours spent sharing an activity with your child, which is hardly, come to think of it, a waste at all.
If, however, it turns out that shows do have a longstanding impact, then your vigilance will be rewarded. You will have had a say in which shows, and what values, irradiated your progeny.
Forget Falwell. Forget “Teletubbies.” Neither the preacher nor the creatures with the video monitors in their chubby abdomens are the point. The point, one not often made by those who sharpened their claws on the popular scratching-post of the controversy, is that we simply don’t know what television does to the developing brain.
In lieu of that certainty, surely it behooves us to keep an eye on what our kids are eyeballing.
