A HALT TO VIOLENCE?
The media: Paul Johnson
thinks the television moguls no longer believe in their own case
THE Hungerford massacre may yet turn out to be a landmark in the struggle to bring television under civilised control, if only by revealing the inconsistencies of those in charge of television policy. Offi- cially, the attitude of the BBC-ITV moguls, and of the producer class im- mediately below them, is still that televi- sion violence has no effect on the viewer and does not lead to real-life violence. Michael Winner, who has emerged as the principal apologist for the film television violence industry, claims that research shows there is no connection; he buttresses this with two collateral arguments: (1) that Jack the Ripper lived before cinema and television; (2) that Japanese film and tele- vision violence is much worse than ours but Japanese crime-rates lower (the plausibil- ity of this last argument depends on its recipients' knowing nothing about Japan). Winner's defence is approximately that of the television industry as a whole, though some producers, who are honest enough to admit that screen violence does influence some people, still feel that freedom from censorship is worth a few corpses from time to time.
However, the scale of the Hungerford killings and the public response to them clearly frightened many people at the top of television. There was an immediate series of cancellations and postponements. Black Christmas and Body Contact on BBC, The Professionals and Nevada Smith on ITV). It was not clear whether these moves were prompted by a genuine if temporary change of opinion on the part of the moguls or simply by their fear of MPs and other critics or indeed of mass popular outrage. Probably a mixture of both, with the first motive wearing off pretty quickly. The BBC put out a very confused state- ment: 'We are as sensitive as anyone else about what happened in Hungerford and it was felt that it would be insensitive to show these programmes at this time, but that is in no way an admittance that there is anything wrong with them'. An LWT spokesman betrayed the same mixture of moral chaos and low PR cunning: 'We are talking about sensitivity here. We pulled The Professionals episode and Nevada Smith because of the shooting and killing involved.'
What we witnessed, I deduce, is a half-admission of guilt and evidence of a primitive, undernourished conscience struggling to break through the thick BBC- ITV commercial carapace, and not quite succeeding. What in effect the television establishment is saying is this: 'The Hungerford thing shook us, and obviously a great many ordinary people do believe there's a connection between real and fantasy violence. For the record and for legal purposes we stand by our "research" and insist that none exists. But we're not so sure anymore, and for the time being we're cutting down on killings, at least until the heat is off. If, by Christmas say, we find the public has forgotten Hungerford and no one is making a fuss any more, we'll go back to the old violent schedules. But if there's still agitation, we'll maybe think again and produce some more "research" to justify a change of policy.' All the signs are that the television industry is no longer sure of itself on the subject of violence and is really waiting for Parliament to give it a lead, or indeed statutory orders. After all, at the heart of
He's not. He's a Yorkshire prat.'
television's opposition to violence-control there is a fundamental dishonesty, a mendacious denial of the power of the medium. On the one hand, the BBC has always sought to justify its freedom and independence, and its licence fee, by insist- ing that it is a great civilising force in Britain, a central element in our culture. How can it be this without influencing people's habits, thoughts, tastes, enthu- siasms, appetites? Equally, ITV sells its screen-time and thus makes itself a good living in the world by persuading highly professional commercial gents that it has a unique power to persuade the public to buy their products; and as it has an advertising monopoly and charges outrageously high prices, its arguments are clearly convincing — what happens on the screen does make people do things they would not do other- wise.
This universal commercial assumption that the influence of television is enormous is shared by all kinds of people. Why do politicians pay such passionate and furious attention to what goes on on television? Why, in return, do broadcasters get so enraged when a politician seeks to inter- fere with or even criticise the contents of their programmes? Why do pop-stars, reli- gious zealots, writers, promoters, ideo- logues, indeed anyone with a fashion or an idea to sell, make such frantic efforts to get onto the little screen? It is because they all believe that with its intimate access to our homes, television gives them a unique influence over the popular mind. But if everyone agrees that television has unrival- led efficiency at selling goods, services, culture, music, God, politics and fashion, why does the industry continue to claim that the one thing it cannot sell is violence? Of course it can — and does. Television is not a moral filter. It cannot pick and choose what it plants in people's minds. Whatever the programme-controllers put into it, the box will churn out in terms of influence and habits. Put in enough vio- lence and it will make people kill.
I have the impression that the industry no longer believes in its case and will not put up much further resistance to controls. A sign of the times is the decision by Michael Grade, the BBC programme boss, to withdraw his opposition to parliamen- tary plans to include television in obscenity regulations. It is a belated recognition that the battle is lost and that television must be placed under the law. MPs are clearly going to act on violence too. A large number of Labour members are coming round to the prevailing Tory view that the nation is paying too high a price for the `freedom' of television producers — part of Labour's recognition that it must get more in touch with public opinion. What is now in prospect is a bill dealing with both topics at once. It looks as though Mary White- house's long campaign, like Wilberforce's on slavery or Shaftesbury's on boy-sweeps, is at last to bear fruit.
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