Thread: An immigrant crisis, or whatever invented woe, refuels media

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TV prophets still mad as hell
An immigrant crisis, or whatever invented woe, refuels media
- Martin F. Nolan
Sunday, July 2, 2006


Illegal immigration is the most horrendous, profoundly disturbing issue since "the war on Christmas." We all recall that sad day when President Bush, bullied by a huge majority of Scrooges in Congress, reluctantly signed a bill banishing Santa Claus and making Dec. 25 a regular working day. No? This didn't happen? Of course not. The sons of Howard Beale were on full alert.

The "crisis" of illegal immigration, now in summer slowdown, never was a crisis and still isn't, but it has been a marvelous marketing opportunity for cable television and talk radio. The Berlin-Wall-on-the-border cry is not only media driven, but media invented. Beale, "the mad prophet of the airwaves," would understand.

"I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" was a catchphrase in 1976, uttered by Beale, played by Peter Finch, in "Network," a prophetic satire of television news. Written by Paddy Chayefsky and directed by Sidney Lumet, it received 10 Academy Award nominations. Finch, as an anchorman fired for poor ratings, won the Oscar for best actor. His legacy lives on cable television every hour, every day.

On illegal immigration, three conditions unite cable television with a key target audience. If cable television news did not exist, if talk radio still focused on recipes and gardening, and if approval ratings for Bush were still at 70 percent, there would be no immigration "crisis."

Fear of "the other" has often warred with compassion in the national psyche. In 1883, Emma Lazarus wrote her salute to "your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free," words carved on the Statue of Liberty. In 1882, Congress carved into the statute books the Chinese Exclusion Act, stating that "Hereafter, no state court or court of the United States shall admit Chinese to citizenship."

Tides of xenophobia recede but rise in anxious times. "The American people want somebody to articulate their rage for them," an Oscar-winning Faye Dunaway, as Diana, an ambitious news executive in "Network," tells her staff. "I've been telling you people since I took this job six months ago that I want angry shows" -- the formula for cable television news and talk radio.

In 1981, President Ronald Reagan recognized that "illegal immigrants in considerable numbers have become productive members of our society and are a basic part of our workforce." He encouraged amnesty, saying "those who have established equities in the United States should be recognized and accorded legal status." Today's House Republicans think the Gipper was a softie and reject the "compassionate" in Bush's "compassionate conservatism."

Today's brouhaha has had some benign results. Yes, the border needs strengthening, but not on a scale of World War III. Buried in the Senate bill is a provision that future citizens must learn English. This is a practical, not punitive, measure, which is not tough enough for House Speaker Dennis Hastert, who wants summer hearings on the "crisis" to keep the Republican base in a state of happy outrage. Beyond this base, other Americans might wonder why Congress does not focus on terrorism, health care or congressional ethics.

The only economic aspect of the "crisis" is how illegal immigration depresses wages. The cure, raising the minimum wage, unites and horrifies Republicans. They vote against it every time, claiming that it will wreck the economy; every time, they're proven wrong. But this "crisis" is not about economics but emotion, Howard Beale's specialty.

In "Network," Beale spoke to 60 million Americans nightly. Since then, cable has made television news a niche product. Today's most-watched narrowcasts attract fewer than 2 million. But the audience includes a rapidly dwindling but still important demographic. In Spanish, they would be called viejo loco gringo. Who has the time to watch a lot of cable news other than cranky old white guys? Who else would heed their hysteria except Republican members of Congress?

In more tranquil times, grumpy old gringos complained to each other at meetings of the Rotary, the Kiwanis or the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks. Today, their heroes on radio and television amplify these emotions. Hosts and audience require an issue that can diminish their total devotion to Bush, who does not share their obsession. It's also easy to talk tough about illegal immigrants, though when it comes to toughness, I'll take the scrawniest kid on the strawberry truck over the deepest baritone with a microphone.

Ned Beatty plays a small but important role in "Network" as Arthur Jensen, head of what he calls "one vast and ecumenical holding company ... all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused." He resembles today's multimedia mikado, Rupert Murdoch. "The world is a business, Mr. Beale!" he thunders.

Murdoch's business is not politics, but business, some of it schlocky, some of it respectable. He endowed the lively and well-written Weekly Standard, the instruction booklet for installing democracy in the Middle East. His biggest newspaper is the Sun in London, the most lurid of tabloids, featuring on Page 3 a topless damsel every day. Perhaps she inspired "fair and balanced," the slogan Murdoch chose for Fox News, which he staffed by visiting the Beale hiring hall.

In England, Murdoch backed the Tory prime minister, John Major, then switched to Labor's Tony Blair. The Financial Times reported in May that Murdoch would be host at a fundraiser for Sen. Hillary Clinton. That bash could be his exit strategy from Bush, the immigration situation providing easy cover. Bush has become unpopular and unprofitable.

Murdoch's move evokes another 1970s movie, "The Godfather," in which Abe Vigoda explains betraying the don, saying to Robert Duvall, "Tell Michael I always liked him. This was strictly business." Duvall replies, "He knows that."

Martin F. Nolan is a former columnist, Washington bureau chief and editorial page editor for the Boston Globe. He now observes the political scene from Russian Hill in San Francisco. Contact us at insight@sfchronicle.com.

Martin F. Nolan is a former columnist and currently an obvious idiot!