A rant about the adverse effects of television, with a special mention the cult of celebrity. Television sets are installed in prisoners’ cells in the UK and can be a source of much conflict when there two people in a cell. Being obliged to watch drivel is, for me, a vicious form of torture, especially as I find it very difficult to read, write or sleep with the television on. There is some good stuff on the television, of course, but most people just keep it on. If they make a selection it’s often the least bad choice. New technology is actually changing that for the better by providing a more choice. So, maybe, this poem will soon be a little part of history. Let’s be optimistic but wary about this sort of progress.
Television Tyranny
Instant images of daily destruction
Light up lovelorn lives
Sights and sounds from some space on earth
Where a woman wails and, though stricken, strives
To find the remains of her husband or son
Amongst concrete and human rubble
Is this a demonstration of demonic design
Or the bursting of television’s bubble?
A change of channel shows a sporting event
Where so-called fans with the like-minded fight
A deadly dystopian dream displayed
By flickering points of illiterate light
Wherein messengers have travelled the planet
To deliver their descriptions of distress
That which cannot be displayed
To them matters less and less
What they consider crucial is celebrity status
Or the creation of a cult of personality
The sacred or sacrificed exposed
To viewers addicted to this barrage of banality
In television’s domain, only the visual is important
Even if what’s shown is totally atypical
To the producers, that is of little concern
Persuaded, as they are, that most reality is physical
Alas, when asked why we hold an opinion
We are expected to repeat what some celebrity has said
Or be accused of a lack of televisual knowledge
Through ignorance of what lies in another’s head
And when special effects matter more than substance
Reality is conflated with drama or dream
Fact or fiction enhanced to entertain
Existence is no longer what it may seem
What’s spoken or written is minimised
For fear it may be too difficult to follow
A picture may equate to a thousand words
But the truth it reveals may be hopelessly hollow
And statistics are said to be confusing
Unless a graph can be shown on a screen
So the data are selected for simplicity
Preference, again, to what can be seen
This medium has superseded other media
But has reduced the use of cognitive skill
It obliges us to rely on its own professionals
To present their opinions without imposing their will
Its ubiquitous sights and sounds
Suppress creativity in human genes
Reduce participation in cultural activities
And even determine what creativity means
Prior to this all-pervasive invention
This audience was obliged to depend on the ear
Their pictures were self-generated
As were most analyses, hope and fear
Words were more clearly a point of view
Or the voice of the media elite
Listeners were obliged to augment their understanding
Through discussion in the pub, club and street
Television may serve a useful purpose
But, in the age of digital transmission
All programmes should carry a warning
From the producers of each emission
“This is not the totality of the facts
These images are chosen from a multitude
And may have been manipulated
To support a specific, unstated attitude”
What was envisaged as an additional source
Now dominates people’s lives
Much cultural advantage has been lost
Yet no current alternative thrives
Hope cannot lie in new technology
That is even more reliant on what we can see
And ever more subject to manipulation
Which channel will show us how to break free?