Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Ethics 17 February 1994
Ethics and Violence on Television 2396 words
At the same time Americans retreat into their homes in an attempt to escape the violent streets,
we have begun a war against a different kind of crime. The new target of our anticrime force is
violence on television, and some Americans are battling it with such energy, it is as though they
believe the defeat of the fiction were tantamount to overcoming the real. Producers, network
presidents, and screenwriters are the new criminals, perpetrating assault and murder on a
nightly basis, with 13 million witnesses. The issue of violence in dramatic television
influences its audience, the way television reflects its audience, government’s role in controlling
the content of a program, and the motives behind writing violence into the script.
Three main parties are involved in this discussion: the government, the public, and the
television industry. The current debate centers on whether Congress should answer the call of
the public and take steps to decrease the amount of violence on television. That question pre
supposes some obligation of one party to the another. If one believes government should regu
late, he suggests the government’s obligation to respond to the will of the people, or at least at
tempt to protect them. If, on the other hand, he believes the government should stay out of it, he
indicates his feeling that the government should allow for freedom of speech, especially in the
private sector. In making even these simple judgments, the observer is employing normative
claims, i.e., he is saying the government should do this, or should not do that.
Opportunities for normative claims abound in the debate over television violence.
Congress must justify its legislation, the public must show moral outrage, and the television in
dustry must defend its right to free speech. In order to achieve these goals, each party must
about programming, and are unprepared to deal with significant ethical problems.
Despite their unreadiness, and perhaps unwillingness, the compromise that emerged
suggests all three parties were able to come up with a widespread, though not necessarily uni
versal, approach to the question of television violence. The television industry agreed to moni
tor itself, and to encourage nonviolent programming. It is now possible, in retrospect, to ana
lyze the ethical and metaethical systems employed in the debate.
Industry Utilitarianism. The industry’s defense of itself tended toward the highly principled.
Jack Valenti’s impassioned appeals to freedom of expression and the creative enterprise were
perhaps the most moving moments of last year’s Congressional hearings, but their legitimacy
and sincerity can only be guessed at. Regardless of its veracity, however, Valenti’s arguments
sketch out a barebones utilitarian argument for allowing the industry to program as it wishes. In
this argument, the greatest good is alternately freedom of expression or aesthetic quality. The
utilitarian argument in this instance sets up the industry as (1) the protectors of free speech and
(2) the promulgators or artistic quality. If seen only as the former, the industry could argue that
whether the violence was necessary to the quality of the program was not at issue. The issue
was that the industry should have the right to produce and broadcast whatever material they
productions, they could just as easily censor the news or otherwise limit the free speech of
Americans. This, to be sure, would be detrimental to all Americans, not only the producers.
And that, according to the utilitarian argument, would be morally wrong. By contrast, the
number of Americans harmed by violent television in its current state is considerably lower than
those who would be harmed by a loss of free expression.
If the particular Hollywood spokesman chose to tone down the freedom of speech argu
ment, he could appeal to the aesthetic sensibilities of his audience, declaring that the violence is
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indeed necessary to the value of a given production, and that in its attempts to control the
quantity of violence, Congress would ultimately be controlling its quality. In this form of the
utilitarian argument, aesthetic merit is the greatest good that would be denied to the greatest
number by a government overstepping its jurisdiction.
It is significant that no credible person posited that television violence, in itself, is a great
good. The worth of the violence is in all argument contingent upon its context in a work of some
quality or as a standin for freedom of speech. This might move some to intuitively object to the
industry’s utilitarian argument, since that which is being debated is not really what either
argument directly addresses. In other words, while Congress is raising objection to televised
violence (a simple enough element to eradicate), the industry defends abstract principles like
rights and beauty.
Those abstract arguments also fall apart when set against televisions recent history. The
Whenever television aims to be more than it is — simple entertainment — it is derided, short
lived, or met with confusion. The two most significant fictional television events in the past five
years were when movie makers scaled their work to the small screen, viz. David Lynch with
Twin Peaks and Oliver Stone with Wild Palms. Aesthetically inventive and unprecedented, both
failed because they aimed above the heads of the average television audience, who just wanted
to laugh or dream, without having to think too much. Given that there have been only these two
remarkable events recently, perhaps in all television history, 1 it seems clear that highminded
ideas are only rarely a part of television in general and television violence in particular.
The best utilitarian argument the industry might construct to validate violence would be
to accept the medium’s status as kitsch. If television is conceived of as nothing more than an
entertainment tool, its need for social responsibility fades. This would allow entertainment
1There was Roots (I was only about ten when it aired), but my impression is that it was far more reality
based than Twin Peaks and Wild Palms. The success of Roots, I think, came about because it used television
for what it does best: narration. Lynch and Stone were so caught up in paranoid plot construction, they
were unable to express anything clearly, even when they wanted to.
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(maybe the more philosophic term “pleasure”) to fill in the “greatest good” variable left vacant
by the unconvincing free speech and aesthetic quality arguments. The idea of entertainment
allows for the worth of television to be judged by nothing more than the enjoyment its viewers
receive while watching it. Any TV program, so long as it is fiction, could be as violent as its
producers chose, merely by virtue of its status as an entertaining fiction. Since no one actually
kills anyone, no real harm is done. In fact, the pleasure a viewer receives from seeing an actor
“killed” might give the show a positive value. Pushing this argument, while empirically
dissociating TV violence from realworld violence, might have been an effective argument for
the television industry. It would seem to hold up so long as more people get enjoyment out of
TV than don’t.
Other Industry Arguments. This rather drawnout utilitarian argument may not be the
kind that appeals to the people forming the industry’s defense, however. A more likely argu
ment for producers to evince, though probably not to Congressmen, would be one of limited2
ethical relativism. With such a position, industry types would be in a position to say there is
nothing necessarily good or bad about television violence. Violence, the relativists would argue,
has come under fire from arrogant members of the public who are attempting to superimpose
their own society’s morals on those of the industry and a sizable portion of the viewing public.
That is, the industry would delimit societies based on their particular taste for violence, televised
and real. That society which dislikes the violence and protests would be the arrogant one, while
the industry would be the innocent party, practicing their own morals as they feel they are
entitled. This kind of argument would help the industry portray itself as the victim of radical
groups that should instead just change the channel.
This argument, clearly, is much less highminded than the utilitarian argument. A kind
of bratty, typicallyHollywood approach to morality, it is easy and quick to make, and (more
important) difficult to respond to. Clinging to the claims of relativists enumerated by James
2Limited in the sense that industry members would not necessarily apply relativist claims to all ethical
decisions, but only to those that required some kind of defense and affected their livelihood.
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Rachels,3 these industry members are able to seek cover from detractors in a haze of confusing
and seemingly irrelevant premises. Its primary problem is that other parties in the debate will
have little patience and less sympathy for the industry.
The final, and perhaps most popular, argument the television would employ to justify
violence is that of the ethical egoist. Many may be inclined to believe intuitively that although
Valenti and others smokescreened Congress with variations on a utilitarian theme, the real
motive behind television violence, and behind the struggle to keep it in production is greed.
Producers and writers will create shows with violence only so long as that is a profitable
endeavor. This tactic is almost completely removed from a moral sense or feeling of obligation
to either the government or the public. If the industry can make more money with violence than
without it, it will take any necessary means to secure the option of violence. Whichever option
will result in the most personal gain is also the most moral for the egoist. When considering the
success of violence in broadcasting, one might further argue that violence in programming over
the years has become a kind of virtue in itself.
While none of these arguments is necessarily a solid one, various industry members may
have used one or more of them to defend themselves from an angry public — a public armed
with arguments of their own.
Public Arguments. Several critical options exist for the multifaceted public as they attempt to
chip away at the television industry. For example, a particular faction might choose the Divine
Command theory approach. Though the Bible has little to say about televised (or even
pantomimed) violence, a variety of groups inevitably using code words like “family”, “club”,
and “American” will convince itself and a large group of others, perhaps Congress people, that
God condemns all creators of violence on television, and encourages all those who love Him to
cease watching that program, buying the sponsor’s products, and voting for their Representative
3Class notes. Different societies have different moral codes; no objective standards; no moral code has any
special status; no universal truth in ethics; moral code of a society determines what is right and wrong in
that society; arrogance to judge other cultures based on society’s own moral codes.
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until such time as the problem is ameliorated. When enough people hear this message, they
While not usually a logically sound argument, Divine Command stances can be quite powerful
and effective.
The metaethical approach of subjectivism may apply to many arguments raised by the
public. For example, many who raise the Divine Command objection and say, “TV violence is
wrong” may really mean, “I don’t like TV violence.” They are simply substituting philosophical,
qualitative language for intuitive feelings, possibly based on whims and fancies. Their moral
outrage, then, could possibly be nothing more than a distaste. But, if the industry proceeds with
it’s utilitarian argument in which entertainment is the greatest good, a emotional argument even
as basic as “I don’t like TV violence” should be enough to push the industry towards limiting
violence, since its aim is to entertain, not to cause moral disgust.
One other workable argument for the public could reverse the industry’s strongest one,
rendering it useless, especially in the ears of a votersympathetic Congress. Using a utilitarian
argument for their own end, the public could argue that the greatest good is not free expression,
aesthetic value, or entertainment, but rather a moral, peaceful nation. They could further argue
that because institutions such as broadcast television stand to gain from such a nation, these
institutions should do their part toward establishing the peace and morality. Laudatory rep
resentations of violence, as seen nightly on network TV, would not seem to inspire a pacific envi
ronment, i.e., violent television works against the goals of all other institutions and against the
greatest good for the greatest number, and should therefore not be tolerated. This argument
would be almost sure to exert effective pressure on the legislative body of the wouldbe peaceful
country, which in turn would pressure the television industry to lessen its violent programming.
Government Arguments. The final party to be considered in this debate is the government. The
most obvious, and most popular, argument for Congress to limit TV violence is a utilitarian one
wrapped into a social contract. The contract in this country is almost sufficient to demand that
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Congress seek the greatest good for the greatest number. It is perhaps the underlying, unwritten
principle of American government. It is therefore easy and politically sound for the Congress to
take action when a large segment of society expresses its disapproval of the television industry.
By extension, the Congress is only speaking for its constituency when it asks or demands that
the level of violence decrease. On that purely representational level, it is almost as though no
ethical decision need be made. A Representative would simply be a ethical proxy for the
constituency.
A more cynical approach to government would suggest that Congress is employing an
ethical system similar to that of the egoists in the television industry, inasmuch as the
Congressman would go along with the television industry until it was no longer politically
sound. Such a move allows him to gain in popularity, jobsecurity, wealth, and possibly fame.
He might have no interest whatever in the psychological wellbeing of his constituency, or in the
morality of the television industry, but he has looked out for himself, which, to him, is a moral
action.
Review of the various arguments available to the three parties seems to indicate that the
television industry presented a utilitarian argument in defense of TV violence, but many indi
viduals were privately operating as ethical egoists; that the public may have had as many ethical
approaches as there were protesters, but that a simple “I don’t like televised violence” sufficed;
and that Congress, like the television industry, presented a utilitarian argument for stifling the
violence, though more than one Congressperson may have joined in with selfish intentions.
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