During my 1950 campaign for the Senate, when two thirds of the people in California did not yet own television sets, we were able for a modest sum to buy five minutes of prime time for a TV commercial. We decided to end it with what we thought would be an appealing human interest shot with Pat and me and our daughters, Tricia, who was then four, and Julie, who was two. For days, they had practiced a stirring campaign song that went like this, to the tune of “Merrily We Roll Along”: “Off we go to Washington, Washington, Washington. Off we go to Washington. Vote for Nixon!”
Everything went fine in the practice sessions. But when we were on camera live, disaster struck. Julie had a toy bunny she insisted on carrying everyplace she went. When she came to the key line, she sang out loud and clear, “Vote for Bunny!” The producers were devastated but apparently it did no harm. We won with the biggest margin of any Senate campaign in the country that year.
In the forty years since then, television has become the dominant factor in American political campaigns. It is far more influential than news stories, columns, or editorials in newspapers and magazines. One poll in 1972 revealed that 78 percent of all of those questioned made their decision about who to vote for based on what they had seen on television rather than what they had heard at campaign rallies or seen in the press.
The writing press has not been completely irrelevant, however. A thoughtful TV commentator, when he can spare the time from putting on his makeup and getting his idiot cards in order, will sometimes read newspapers and magazines for background. What appears on the front or editorial pages of The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal, even if it is not quoted directly, may still have a subtle effect on the tone or content of a television report on the evening news. But the bottom line is that in this highly competitive business, where ratings are infinitely more important than substance in determining a reporter’s income and status, the test has to be what will appeal to the TV audience rather than what may appeal to the far smaller but more thoughtful reading audience.
There is little doubt in my mind that the dominance of TV is a negative development as far as electing the best candidates is concerned. First, there is little or no correlation between the qualities that make a good leader and those that make a good TV performer. Second, TV undoubtedly disqualifies some who have leadership quality but no star quality. A good case can be made that Abraham Lincoln, certainly the most revered of all American Presidents, would have failed in the TV age. His high-pitched voice and homely features would not have come across well on the television screen. His long, rambling anecdotes, while very effective in speeches to live audiences, would not have played well in a medium where the candidate can win by using one-liners fed to him by his speechwriters. In the age of sound bites, the three-minute Gettysburg Address would have been two and a half minutes too long. One of today’s ambitious young correspondents would probably have summed it up this way: “The President himself admitted to this subdued Pennsylvania crowd what his men have been saying privately: that no one will long remember what he said here.”
Recently I was discussing a campaign with a competent political professional, who gave me his appraisal of the two frontrunners. One was smart and strong, had good judgment, believed in the right things, but “just isn’t good on the tube.” The other one “ain’t too smart but he comes over like gangbusters on TV.” Not surprisingly, the dimbulb shone more brightly on TV, and won the election.
But television is here to stay, and candidates who do not learn how to use it have no chance of being elected. I suppose I should be expected to know something about television since I participated in the first nationally televised congressional committee hearing—the confrontation between Alger Hiss and Whittaker Chambers on August 25, 1948—and the first televised Presidential debates with Jack Kennedy in 1960. My “Fund” speech as a candidate for Vice President in 1952 and my “Silent Majority” speech as President in 1969 had huge TV audiences and set records for changing public opinion that have never been broken. But despite this experience, I hesitate to advise potential candidates as to how to use television. For example, I have never practiced speeches before a camera so I could study the tape later, like a football player studying game films, and learn to lengthen my vowels or sharpen my gestures. Frankly, doing so would make me feel silly. But again, all the experts advise their clients to submit to this as a way of overcoming deficiencies in their delivery.
Still, some practical observations might be useful. Most important, anyone going onto an interview program should insist on either appearing live or taping to time. Those who produce the shows won’t like it. Your television adviser will tell you that it is too risky since you will not be able to edit out flubs. The advantages, however, outweigh the disadvantages. When you appear live or tape to time, you have to discipline yourself to be up for the performance. You also do not put yourself at the mercy of an editor who might leave your best lines on the cutting-room floor.
One of the best decisions George Bush made in the 1988 campaign was to go live with Dan Rather. If he had taped, Rather’s editors would have spiked the devastating segment where Bush took the anchorman on for leaving the screen blank during a petty spat he was having with the sports department. A live interview, if promoted properly, is also inherently much more dramatic than a canned one. People open a newspaper to be enlightened; they turn on TV to be entertained. Nothing is more entertaining than genuine live confrontation.
The candidate must remember that a TV appearance is the most important event he will be doing that day. He should insist that his schedule be cleared so he will have plenty of time to prepare and will be rested and in top form when he goes on the air.
A candidate should never allow a fundraising event to be televised and should do everything possible to discourage the televising of campaign rallies. An appeal to overfed fat cats at a fundraising dinner or to extreme partisans at a rally is entirely different from the approach you want to take with a couple of people sitting in their living rooms and trying to decide whom to vote for. More often than not, highly partisan speeches have a negative impact on the home audience.
Some television experts will tell you that it is possible to wage a campaign without ever leaving a television studio. This will probably happen someday soon, but I do not consider it a positive development. The country is too big for extensive person-to-person campaigning by a candidate for President, and it is true that more imaginative use of TV could actually improve Presidential politics. But in running for Congress and the Senate in smaller states, a candidate should still insist on meeting as many people as he can. The purpose is not so much the effect it has on them, although it does make a good story, but the effect it has on him. A candidate who relies too much on television can become too artificial, too staged, too impersonal. Only by meeting and talking to people in person can he get the feel of what the voters are really interested in and what kind of representation they really want.
As one who has found television immensely useful in going over the heads of the reporters and the Congress directly to the people, I suppose I should be more tolerant of its flaws. But I see some profound problems on two fronts.
First, television has transformed the way leadership is exercised. Even more troubling, it has changed the standards by which we measure a candidate’s ability to be elected to office. As a result, not only may we be losing our Lincolns, but we will tend to choose those whose major qualifications are a good voice, a handsome TV face, and willingness to take the consultants’ directions. Debates are supposed to expose the weakness of such a candidate. But if he can memorize a clever quip written by a Hollywood gag writer, he will always carry the day over an opponent who makes a thoughtful presentation on some complex issue.
Once a candidate wins, he will find that television has also changed the rules for informing, educating, and winning the support of the people. As I have often pointed out, television forces events into a soap-opera mold, giving them sometimes artificial but always explosive emotional force and all but eclipsing rational debate. Like a mind-altering drug, television distorts the viewer’s perception of reality. It has also drastically shortened the public’s attention span. Decisions on complex issues that might have taken a candidate weeks or even months to reach are dismissed with a twenty-second summary on the evening news. If a TV news report does not tie up loose ends as neatly as “The A Team,” it is considered a flop.
In view of President Reagan’s spectacular success in using television to win support for his policies, it can be argued that what we now need are more politicians who are good actors. What this analysis overlooks is that while Reagan was indeed a good actor, he also had very strong beliefs. This made a powerful, positive combination. We will be in real trouble if we ever elect a good actor without any strong beliefs. Then the real power would reside with unelected staffers who would control the national agenda by putting words in the President’s mouth.
TV news is taking on the character of TV entertainment because everything on television lives or dies not by virtue of quality but by virtue of ratings. As I write, the major networks have begun using actors to recreate events on news programs, a despicable trend that began in sleazy syndicated programs. Such a gimmick has nothing to do with informing people and everything to do with snookering them into tuning in. A newspaper article about a shooting or rape contains all the information the public requires in order to be fully informed. News executives will say that their lurid reenactments “more fully communicate the horror of these events.” In fact, they communicate only news executives’ desires for better ratings and bigger vacation homes. Soon no one will be able to tell the difference between reality and illusion on television, and the fault will lie with the men and women who put profit ahead of standards and good judgment. TV used to be both profitable and decent. If it is not decent today, it is because its practitioners used the permissive standards of the sixties and seventies as an excuse to reap even higher profits from indecency.
There are some who suggest that the way to counteract the declining quality of commercial television is to increase funding for public television. But all this would do is ensure that network programmers, after polluting commercial TV during the week, can watch taxpayer-subsidized ballet and British sitcoms when they go to the Hamptons for the weekend. There are some good political programs on public television. But conservatives who complain about the liberal bias of network television miss the mark. Public television and radio in the United States, as well as in Europe, tilt far more to the left than does commercial television. At least commercial programs cannot stray irretrievably beyond the views of those in the audience, which are invariably to the right of the views of those who write, produce, direct, and act in the programs.
Surveys show that the average American sees seven hours of television a day. For older people, that may not be too significant a problem. For younger people, it is a disaster in the making. The hours spent sitting in front of the tube are hours taken away from reading, conversation, and recreation. We are justifiably concerned about the shockingly high rate of drug use and alcoholism among younger people. Television is also a narcotic. You can get hooked on it just as you can on drugs or alcohol. Parents and teachers must encourage young people to spend less time watching television and more time using their growing minds and bodies. Another answer, of course, is to improve the quality of what they do see.
The massive expansion of cable television may provide part of the answer. But again, it all gets back to those who produce the product. It always turns me off when television producers sanctimoniously proclaim that all they are doing is giving the people what they want. Those who produce the shows assume that what the people want is the same as what they want. The fact that so many movies and TV shows are just plain sick does not mean that most people are sick. It simply means that those who live and work in the entertainment centers of Hollywood and New York believe that the sickness that affects so many of their lives affects everybody else as well.
Like many Americans, I am concerned about the violence, sex, and just plain trash that any teenager can tune in to on cable these days if a network decides that it is too raucous even for their taste. But I oppose any efforts by government to control the content of television programs. Because of its licensing power, the government has potential control over television and radio which it does not have over newspapers and magazines. That power should be exercised only in the most extreme cases. Just as public television is not the answer insofar as getting more balance in political programming is concerned, government control of the content of entertainment programs is potentially far worse and more dangerous than leaving it to the marketplace. But those in the TV business should take a new look at their consciences for two reasons: As professionals, they should not be satisfied to produce only what appeals to the lowest common denominator of their audience. The second reason is more selfish. Unless they police themselves, they are asking for an eventual public backlash followed by policing by government. The first “reenacted” assassination or rape-murder on prime time might just do that.