News (Media Awareness Project) - US: Column: Our Loss That Profit Is No 1 |
Title: | US: Column: Our Loss That Profit Is No 1 |
Published On: | 2000-01-15 |
Source: | Denver Post (CO) |
Fetched On: | 2008-09-05 06:29:56 |
OUR LOSS THAT PROFIT IS NO 1
Just in case you hadn't noticed the steady erosion of the whole concept of
integrity in American life, along comes the story of paid antidrug
propaganda in TV series.
The deal began in 1997 when Congress approved a five-year, $1 billion
television ad campaign that required networks to sell the government time
for the anti-drug spots at half price, according to Daniel Forbes of Salon
magazine.
But with the economy roaring and demand for advertising time deliriously
high, the networks weren't wild about giving it up so cheaply.
Drugs were a problem, they said, but there were stockholders to worry about.
No problem, said Alan Levitt of the Office of National Drug Control Policy.
He came up with a system to place a dollar value on anti-drug messages
insinuated into TV scripts and, voila, an all-new payola system was devised.
The drug czar's office would review the scripts, offer a few changes,
establish a price, and the money rolled into the networks, an estimated $25
million so far.
The anti-drug messages rippled across prime time, the networks were
compensated and nobody was the wiser. Even producers were not informed of
the collusion.
Among the shows reprogrammed by Levitt's mind-control goons were: "Chicago
Hope," "Beverly Hills 90210," "7th Heaven," "The Drew Carey Show," "Smart
Guy," "The Practice," "Home Improvement," "Sports Night," "The Wayans
Bros.," "Promised Land," "Cosby," "Trinity," "Providence," "Sabrina the
Teenage Witch," "Boy Meets World," "General Hospital," "Hang Time" and the
big kahuna, "ER." George Orwell should get royalties.
Andrew Jay Schwartzman, president of the Media Access Project, told Salon
that it is "an outrageous abandonment of the First Amendment ..." Bill
Kovach, curator of the Nieman Foundation, called it "breathtaking." But it's
increasingly difficult to find words to express outrage over such breaches
in the public trust. They're so common.
You have your TV news segments promoting entertainment programming; cover
stories hawking "blockbuster" movies in magazines published by the same
companies that produce the movies; newspapers engaging in profit-making
sponsorships of teams, events and institutions they cover; politicians who
sell "access" to their office via high-priced tickets to inaugurations and
anniversary galas.
You also have college athletes wearing Nike swooshes all over their
uniforms; school districts negotiating sponsorships with soft-drink
companies that include complementary curriculum packages; cities buying
influence with the International Olympics Committee.
The list goes on.
As the profit motive replaces all other motives in our cultural life, forms
of expression from art and journalism to the most fundamental acts of public
service become suspect.
"Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" is the pop icon of the season.
The answer is obvious: everybody. And it's so easy.
All you have to do is sell your soul.
Just in case you hadn't noticed the steady erosion of the whole concept of
integrity in American life, along comes the story of paid antidrug
propaganda in TV series.
The deal began in 1997 when Congress approved a five-year, $1 billion
television ad campaign that required networks to sell the government time
for the anti-drug spots at half price, according to Daniel Forbes of Salon
magazine.
But with the economy roaring and demand for advertising time deliriously
high, the networks weren't wild about giving it up so cheaply.
Drugs were a problem, they said, but there were stockholders to worry about.
No problem, said Alan Levitt of the Office of National Drug Control Policy.
He came up with a system to place a dollar value on anti-drug messages
insinuated into TV scripts and, voila, an all-new payola system was devised.
The drug czar's office would review the scripts, offer a few changes,
establish a price, and the money rolled into the networks, an estimated $25
million so far.
The anti-drug messages rippled across prime time, the networks were
compensated and nobody was the wiser. Even producers were not informed of
the collusion.
Among the shows reprogrammed by Levitt's mind-control goons were: "Chicago
Hope," "Beverly Hills 90210," "7th Heaven," "The Drew Carey Show," "Smart
Guy," "The Practice," "Home Improvement," "Sports Night," "The Wayans
Bros.," "Promised Land," "Cosby," "Trinity," "Providence," "Sabrina the
Teenage Witch," "Boy Meets World," "General Hospital," "Hang Time" and the
big kahuna, "ER." George Orwell should get royalties.
Andrew Jay Schwartzman, president of the Media Access Project, told Salon
that it is "an outrageous abandonment of the First Amendment ..." Bill
Kovach, curator of the Nieman Foundation, called it "breathtaking." But it's
increasingly difficult to find words to express outrage over such breaches
in the public trust. They're so common.
You have your TV news segments promoting entertainment programming; cover
stories hawking "blockbuster" movies in magazines published by the same
companies that produce the movies; newspapers engaging in profit-making
sponsorships of teams, events and institutions they cover; politicians who
sell "access" to their office via high-priced tickets to inaugurations and
anniversary galas.
You also have college athletes wearing Nike swooshes all over their
uniforms; school districts negotiating sponsorships with soft-drink
companies that include complementary curriculum packages; cities buying
influence with the International Olympics Committee.
The list goes on.
As the profit motive replaces all other motives in our cultural life, forms
of expression from art and journalism to the most fundamental acts of public
service become suspect.
"Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" is the pop icon of the season.
The answer is obvious: everybody. And it's so easy.
All you have to do is sell your soul.
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