If not the root of all evil, at least the root of much evil
by Theodore Dalrymple
Most people read to confirm their prejudices rather than to learn something
new or change their minds. Moreover, they recall what confirms their opinions
much better than they remember what contradicts them. So aware was Charles
Darwin of this human tendency that, at least according to his Autobiography, he wrote down anything he read that
contradicted his views, for otherwise (he said) he was sure to forget it.
I must admit that like most of humanity, I am not as honest as Darwin and
am reluctant to give up my cherished beliefs even in the face of facts that
contradict them. I do on occasion change my mind about something, but slowly
and usually without acknowledging that I have done so. I prefer to think that
the opinion I now hold is the opinion I have held all my life, rather as Kim
Il-sung emerged, according to his hagiographers, as a fully fledged Korean
Marxist-Leninist revolutionary by the age of eight. To acknowledge that one has
changed one’s mind about something is to admit one’s fallibility and the
possibility that if one was wrong before, one might be wrong again. And in our
hearts we know that we are always right.
That is why I was overjoyed recently in Paris to find a well-documented book
that confirmed one of my deepest prejudices, namely that television is, if not
the root of all evil, at least the root of much evil. That is why I haven’t had
one for more than forty years. The book was called TV Lobotomie, which hardly needs translation.
The man who put the first germ of the prejudice against TV in my mind was
Malcolm Muggeridge, a now-forgotten British journalist who, bizarrely,
emigrated to the Soviet Union in the 1930s in search of a better life. Far from
finding the paradise he had expected, however, he found a kind of hell. During
the Ukrainian famine he sent back truthful reports to the Manchester Guardian (now the Guardian), which published only some of them. He was
particularly outraged by the Western intellectuals who took starvation for
plenty and tyranny for freedom, and he satirized them mercilessly in his book Winter in Moscow.
Later in his life he became a fervent and somewhat unctuous Christian, by
no means a popular thing to do in the 1960s. Perhaps he did so because it was
his temperament to swim against the tide. Be that as it may, he also denounced
television from his pulpit—which was, of course, television.
He denounced it with all the fervor of a temperance preacher denouncing gin
or of a modern public health official denouncing tobacco. At first I laughed at
him, but then I saw that he was quite right. Television is an evil.
There is so much to be said against it (and its televisual offshoots) that
it is difficult to know where to begin. In my opinion, televisual entertainment
is by far the most important cause of boredom in the world, and since the
attempt to relieve boredom is a much underestimated cause of social pathology
of all kinds, television is ultimately responsible for the squalor in the midst
of wealth that is so remarkable a feature of our modern existence.
It may seem paradoxical to claim that entertainment is a serious cause of
boredom. But as TV Lobotomie demonstrates,
children who grow up with TV as a large part of their mental diet have
difficulty concentrating for the rest of their lives, and since the ability to
concentrate is essential to finding anything interesting that is not
swift-moving and sensational, and since also a large part of life is
necessarily not swift-moving and sensational, those brought up on TV are
destined for boredom. Degradation relieves their boredom. Better a life of
sordid crises than a life like a flat-line encephalograph.
Most parents believe that television is bad for their children, but they
insist that they watch it nonetheless. Indeed, they train them to do so, for
contrary to what many might think, television is not immediately attractive to
young children, who would rather do something else than watch it. Having become
accustomed to it, however, they need it as an addict needs his drug. The more
they watch it, the worse their likely path through life. Before anyone objects
that this is because those children who watch the most television come from bad
homes, let me point out first that the relationship between television and
scholastic failure (for example) is a causative one, and second that the worst
effects of television are seen in the best homes not the worst, precisely
because children from the best homes—by best, I mean those with educated
parents and high incomes, admittedly a rather reductive definition—have the
best cognitive prospects to ruin. As modern European architects have
discovered, it is far easier to ruin the good than improve the bad.
To my shame, and against my principles, I have occasionally agreed to
appear on television, though even less frequently than I have been asked. I
have found those who work for TV broadcasting companies to be the most
disagreeable people that I have ever encountered. I far preferred the criminals
whom I encountered in my work as a prison doctor, who were more honest and
upright than TV people.
In my experience, TV people are as lying, insincere, obsequious,
unscrupulous, fickle, exploitative, shallow, cynical, untrustworthy,
treacherous, dishonest, mercenary, low, and untruthful a group of people as is
to be found on the face of this Earth. They make the average Western politician
seem like a moral giant. By comparison with them, Mr. Madoff was a model of
probity and Iago was Othello’s best friend. I am prepared to admit that there
may be—even are—exceptions, as there are exceptions good or bad in every human
group, but there is something about the evil little screen that would sully a
saint and sanctify a monster.
Turn off, tune out, drop completely.
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