“The struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting,” writes Milan Kundera in The Book of Laughter and Forgetting. But in the US media today, nothing is so prized as the audience’s lack of memory. How else to milk the next scandal for that extra 0.6 of a rating point? How can people be expected to worry about the Jenny Jones trial if they are still worried about who killed JonBenet Ramsey? How can they vent their fury over Bill Clinton’s clemency offer to Puerto Rican militants while wondering whatever happened to that guy who was supposed to be a Chinese spy at Los Alamos?
The problem is that the stories–along with their long-term implications–do not themselves evaporate. No one talks about the impeachment scandal anymore on MSNBC, but the damage to our institutions remains acute. To take a more recent example, remember that $37 billion merger between CBS and Viacom? It occupied seven news stories in the New York Times on the day after its announcement, sixteen overall. To be fair, the paper did an admirably thorough job. But ten days later, it’s over. The media have moved on. A merger that will affect the quality of information that every US citizen receives–along with people in quite a few other places–and…nothing. “Yesterday’s news” sayeth the bard Elvis Costello, “is tomorrow’s fish-and-chip paper.”
Unfortunately, even when the merger story was hot, neither the Times nor anyone else, as far as I could determine, saw fit to consult the person who has written most trenchantly about the threats to republican government that derive from the media’s debasement of our democratic discourse, Columbia’s James Carey. If Richard Rorty, as is widely recognized, has inherited John Dewey’s mantle as America’s pre-eminent pragmatist philosopher, the relatively unknown Carey holds no less claim to Dewey’s title as the nation’s most important theorist of media and democracy.
On a recent trip up to Morningside Heights to discuss the big merger, I was surprised to find Carey less concerned about the concentration of media power than about the focus of ownership exclusively in corporations that operate in what used to be called the entertainment industry.
He has a point. For all the recent mergers and those about to come–including perhaps Time Warner and NBC–we still have a greater diversity of voices than we did in the seventies, when, Carey points out, “all there was were three networks and AT&T.” (As recently as the sixties in England, if you wanted to produce a piece of broadcast journalism, you had exactly one potential buyer: the BBC.) The problem is not that public space is closing–it’s that it’s being littered with garbage. The networks are no longer instruments of the kind of public sphere that Jürgen Habermas defined as necessary to the upkeep of democracy. Rather, the public sphere has become so feudalized that it’s not worth a citizen’s time to participate. The public, says Carey, “is being simultaneously cookie-cut and internationalized,” and the very idea of the nation–as in “National Broadcasting Company”–is disappearing. Instead we have journalism brought to us by the entertainment industry.