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Last night I saw the film Good Night, and Good Luck. Set in the 1950s, the movie was about the role newscaster Edward R. Murrow played in the ruin of red-baiting Senator Joseph McCarthy. The film is stunningly shot in black-and-white, and for the smoke tendrils curling from Murrow's cigarette, alone, you'd practically want to take up the habit, if you haven't. Not quite--but the picture makes my list of run-don't-walk treasures this year. The tension between the aims of "serious" journalism, and those of profitability, wracks the CBS network, Murrow's employer. That conflict strains relations between executives and the editorial staff, and Murrow really doesn't make any friends in the corner offices, choosing to do stories on McCarthy and his influence. We forget how timid and how fearful the culture of the 1950s really was--how manipulable was the American consciousness, and how vulnerable to demagoguery. The time was perfect for Senator McCarthy's depredations. But McCarthy himself wasn't telegenic. As the film makes clear, with real-life footage of the late senator accusing Murrow himself of communist sympathies, the visual medium was the senator's undoing. The Bush team in 2005 is doing a bit better than McCarthy did, on one score: Bush cronies understand packaging. They know how to use the mass-media to their advantage, in particular, how to "work" television. They are still in office. As I was watching that film, something somebody said the day before kept echoing in my head. I was at a meeting in San Francisco for the single-payer-healthcare lobby on Saturday. A man who identified himself as a retired truckdriver stood up and told the group:
"The people in this room respond to logical arguments. But there are plenty of people who don't think like us, who don't respond to reason and logic. If we want single-payer to grow as a cause in the U.S., then we sooner or later have to learn how to talk to these people." |