TUNE IN TO TERRORVISION
Charlotte Edwardes reveals that
Hezbollah will soon be beaming into your home
`THE revolution will not be televised,' Gil Scott Heron rapped, back in 1974. Sadly for Gil, it has not only been televised but, in keeping with the times, is online and about to be launched on digital satellite. This particular 'revolution' is being inter- nationally broadcast by the world's most unlikely media moguls — the Lebanese Hezbollah. They have recognised that the television studio, rather than the solitary confinement cell, is the most sophisticated method of promoting the Islamic revolu- tion. Their terrestrial television station, Al Manar (The Shining), broadcasts an explo- sive blend of stern clerical lectures and filmed suicide bombings, dumbed down with a happy mix of sports, entertainment, chat shows and Disney cartoons for the kids.
Lebanese viewers have been privileged to watch such eclectic scheduling since June 1991. Shortly, we in the West will have the opportunity to tune in to Al Manar, when it transmits from satellite early next year. In the spirit of global understanding, the station will broadcast in English, Arabic and Hebrew. Hebrew? 'So that the Israelis know we are corning to get them,' explains a Hezbollah official. The station will be linked to the Arabsat satel- lite consortium based in Saudi Arabia and owned by 21 Arab states. Hezbollah are confident that with a possible catchment of 30 million viewers it will be popular. But what should we, as potential subscribers, expect?
Well, there will be programming to tempt working-class viewers away from Mr Murdoch's Sky, especially those desensi- tised by video nasties. Hezbollah TV offers authentic war footage. Suicide bombers are filmed taking their last rites from the black-turbaned secretary general, Sheikh Sayed Hassan Nasrallah. The suicide mis- sions are then videoed on hand-held cam- eras, shakily documenting the volunteer's high-speed journey — usually in a white Isuzu truck — towards an Israeli position, self-detonation and martyrdom. The mor- bid spectacle is commonly accompanied by suitably stirring martial music.
Hezbollah have been equally innovative in the field of news. Their answer to Jere- my Paxman, the Armani-suited Ibrahim Musawi, presents a comprehensive late- night news round-up. Musawi's day job is as the party's director of information — a nifty way of circumventing conflict between spin doctors and the media.
Just as the BBC tries to ensure that there is a feminine touch on its current affairs programmes, women also read the news, which includes a somewhat one- sided version of Hezbollah's paramilitary activities against Israeli-occupied territory in south Lebanon. Warnings of future attacks on Israel occasionally pop up in Hebrew text — the station already has access to northern Israel. Presenters delight in reading out Israeli responses, messages faxed or e-mailed in, announc- ing: 'We will kill you, we will destroy you.'
But if political snuff movies and blood- curdling propaganda are culturally alien, there is programming more familiar to Western palates. After all, Hezbollah has been adept at fighting for its market share — theirs is the fourth most popular station in Lebanon, surprisingly one of the most competitive markets in the world, with SO channels battling for a population of only three million. This achievement is due to a heavy emphasis on populist entertainment which appeals to more than their traditional audience of disfranchised Shia Muslims. For starters, Hezbollah are keen sports fans, albeit without the lightness of touch of Des Lynam. 'Sports programmes cover the most important activities in order to keep the youth — the pillar of the country's future — away from moral decay and direct them towards formulating a better personality,' say Hezbollah. Clearly news of Gazza's lengthy binges has yet to filter through to the pious-minded producers. On the other hand, violent pitch invasions and death chants at the referee are unnervingly regular in Lebanon, which is perhaps why more decorous European games are also screened. Tennis is very popular and Wim- bledon highlights have been shown for some time. But Islamic rules on women's dress rob viewers of a glimpse of Anna Kournikova bouncing around in that tiny white slip. Only men's games are permitted.
Hollywood blockbusters form a consid- erable part of Hezbollah's scheduling, though they are prone to heavy cutting. All shots deemed sexually explicit are removed by the censors, a board of Shia clerics. During Hollywood films that show Arabs in a bad light — Arnold Schwarzenegger's True Lies, for example — a voice-over interjects, providing a grim moral com- mentary on the hypocrisy of American racism.
Furniture, fridges, toys or copies of the Koran can all be won by family teams cor- rectly answering general knowledge ques- tions on the numerous game shows. Programmes startlingly reminiscent of Name That Tune and Call My Bluff have strong followings. Hezbollah have put their own stamp on the format by throw- ing in the odd religious brain-teaser. For the ladies there are cookery programmes; one is a sort of Two Fat Ladies in purdah, in which the veiled hosts rustle up varia- tions of Lebanon's famously delicious cui- sine. Fans of Tony Parsons-style cultural punditry need not be disappointed. Fer- vent and often acrimonious debate distin- guishes the station's flagship arts discussion programme.
Needless to say, Hezbollah are not great promoters of comedy. That said, low-bud- get Egyptian and Lebanese TV sitcoms are screened during Ramadan 'to cheer peo- ple up'. These so-called comedies are bad enough to make a Carry On film look as sharp as Oscar Wilde. As Hezbollah them- selves admit, the station's shoestring bud- get leaves it open to occasional technical hitches. No doubt there is mileage here for a rival to Auntie's Bloomers, the BBC's self-absorbed compilation of TV hiccups.
But the project of launching Al Manar into orbit is not cheap. A slot on the Arab- sat satellite costs about £300,000 a month. Funds have been raised through a combi- nation of advertising, donations from wealthy Shi'a who made their fortunes abroad (particularly in West Africa and Kuwait), and through Hezbollah's own business ventures, lucrative co-operatives concentrated in Beirut, south Lebanon and the Beka'a valley.
Far from being pariahs, Hezbollah have now found a sort of respectability which allows them to stand shoulder to shoulder with the very representatives of the media they once sought to bundle into the back of a Mercedes and put in chains in the less salubrious basements of Beirut. Terry Anderson, the former Associated Press bureau chief held hostage for seven years, pays regular visits. When Brent Sadler, CNN anchorman, returned to Beirut two years ago, he invited Hezbollah officials to his grand welcome-back bash in the Com- modore Hotel. Against a backdrop of videos playing Sadler delivering war reports from the world's trouble spots, Hezbollah officials mingled awkwardly with diplomats and journalists. Of course they politely refused the trays of cham- pagne in favour of water and orange juice.
Rejection of alcohol aside, Hezbollah have no qualms in adopting Western ways to promote their cause. This willingness to play the media game will keep them in the international eye long after most observers would have expected them to have self-combusted in their own narrow obscurantist world, The author writes for the Daily Mail.
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