Why I Miss the Fairness Doctrine, and Maybe You Do Too?

I grew up with AM radio, back when it still played music. Every city had at least one great top-40 station, and many of those stations had very entertaining personality deejays. The on-air talent in the 1950s and 1960s focused on playing the hits, but some of the announcers were also very amusing, and they knew how to make their listeners feel as if they were part of a community of fans. That was still true as music gradually shifted over to FM in the 1970s: when Rush sang in "The Spirit of Radio" about beginning the day with a friendly voice, that is exactly what radio meant to its loyal listeners.  In fact, if you were having a bad day, listening to your favorite station definitely would change your mood for the better.

Back then, the FCC mandated that radio broadcast a certain amount of news, and a certain amount of public service programming (the newscasts tended to be on the hour; the public service programming was usually buried early on Sunday mornings). Some stations also had talk shows, but they were very different from the ones we hear today: because of the Fairness Doctrine, these shows had to present both sides of the issues. In addition, insults and name-calling were generally not allowed-- in the mid-to-late 1960s, as society grew more polarized during the Vietnam era, a few talk hosts became more confrontational, but they were not the norm. Most talk show hosts tried to be interesting and informative. And although some had their pet causes, they tried not to sound angry or rude when discussing them. 

But gradually, deregulation allowed various rules to go away. Among them was the Fairness Doctrine, which ended in 1987, paving the way for one-sided talk programs that no longer needed to present any other points of view. Among the first to see the possibilities were conservative Republicans, who began putting partisan talk shows on the air. More than three decades later, over 95% of talk radio remains dominated by conservative perspectives, to the exclusion of everything else. And for those of us who had become accustomed to courtesy and informative debate, many of these programs offered neither: they featured name-calling, insults, and mockery of anyone on "the other side." 

What brought all this to mind was a three-part article in the New York Times about Fox News' commentator Tucker Carlson and the impact his cable TV show has had on the Republican Party, as well as on the American public. I know some of you never read the Times, and you may think it's a biased hit job. Not so. It's actually a very important piece about how allowing one-sided, confrontational talk shows to proliferate on radio and TV has turned our politics into professional wrestling, with partisans on each side seeking opportunities to verbally attack their opponents, and to score as many points as possible, even if that means fighting dirty.  Winning is everything, even if it means making false accusations, exaggerating, distorting, and demonizing "the other side." Tucker is a master at this style. He knows what his audience wants, and he delivers it, night after night.

But should a talk show host be the dominant force in our politics? Should a talk show host have more power than the president or members of congress? I know many folks who love his show and believe every word of it, even when it's pointed out to them that much of what he says is demonstrably false (and brutally one-sided). The problem is that talk show hosts care first and foremost about ratings. They don't care as much about what their rhetoric, or their framing of events, is doing to the country. Spreading hatred of "the other side" while praising "our side" is great for ratings. Fearmongering about immigrants, or liberals, or Black people, or Jews has always been good for building an audience. But it isn't so good for building friendships across party lines or promoting a sense that we're all in this together.

In other words, as the Times article points out, what's good for Tucker's ratings may not be so good for America. If the Fairness Doctrine were still around, we might still have the tools to limit anyone (on either side) who wants to use the airwaves for scary conspiracy theories or myths about the dangers that some group allegedly poses. But the end of the Fairness Doctrine has meant the gloves are off. The FCC won't do a thing: supposedly the 'market' will-- except hate has always been a big winner, and it always finds a large and eager audience.  

No, I don't want to see Tucker censored. And no, I am not blaming him for everything that's wrong in our politics. But having grown up with talk radio (and TV) that tried to be fair and accurate, I still can't get used to the airwaves being used for spreading anger and outrage (especially when the outrage is manufactured to build ratings and get certain politicians elected). I know there's no political will to bring the Fairness Doctrine back. I also know that a sizable number of people seem okay with talk shows no longer being courteous. And yet, I miss the shows that used to be informative rather than angry. And I especially miss the ones that began the day with a friendly voice...  I wonder if I'm the only one who feels that way.

Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself

Once a month, I have the privilege of being part of a Rush-themed webcast. Each member of the panel takes a song from this month's Rush album and analyzes it. This time around, we did "Signals," from 1982, and the song I talked about was "The Weapon." 

It begins with a famous quote, from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's inaugural address, delivered in 1933, when America was in the depths of the Great Depression. The president came to be known for his "Fireside Chats," radio talks about the issues of the day, during which he encouraged and inspired the audience, and made them feel as if he was talking directly to them.  And he understood that in difficult times, it's easy to give in to fear.

Neil Peart understood that too, which is why he quoted from Roosevelt. On numerous occasions, Neil wrote about how easily our fears could be weaponized -- used against us to paralyze us into inaction or to make us hate "the other." In a world where people are so often seeking simple answers to complex problems, it's easy for unscrupulous leaders to claim the problem is "those people" or "that country." In the lyrics to "The Weapon," Neil speaks of how "the things that we fear are a weapon to be held against us."      

It's Passover as I write this. Part of the observance of the holiday is to tell the story of the Exodus, of the miracle by which the Jews were set free from slavery in Egypt. In Exodus, chapter 18, we are instructed to tell the Passover story in a particular, and very personal, way: "And you shall tell your child on that day as follows: 'It is because of what the Lord did for me, when he took me out of Egypt.' ”

In other words, remember that even though this event happened several thousand years ago, it is just as real today.  Agreed, most of us are not living in bondage, and I am not trying to trivialize the story, especially in a world where slavery has not been entirely eradicated.  But on some levels, if you think about it, many of us endure a certain kind of emotional slavery. We keep making the same mistakes, we keep fearing the unknown, we keep fearing those who are different... and we're convinced that nothing will ever change.

In Hebrew, the word for Egypt is "Mitzrayim," but I am told that word also connotes "the narrow place." Each of us is stuck in our own narrow place, and often, we can see no way to break free.   Passover is about the Exodus, about leaving Mitzrayim, but it's also about leaving the place that is keeping you confined. Neil was right when he said the things we fear can be a weapon to be held against us. But the good news is it doesn't have to be that way.

And if I have a Passover message, it would be that we have nothing to fear but fear itself. I know about fear: I've grappled with it many times in my life. But if there's one thing I've learned it's that kindness and compassion-- and love-- are more powerful than fear. Sooner or later, love wins-- if we turn away from our fear and embrace new possibilities. So, whether you are religious or not, make time for those new possibilities. And don't allow fear to be weaponized against you, not now, not ever.