Amusinged Ourselves To Death

Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985):

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture.

Andrew Postman, The Guardian, February 2, 2017:

The central argument of Amusing Ourselves is simple: there were two landmark dystopian novels written by brilliant British cultural critics – Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell – and we Americans had mistakenly feared and obsessed over the vision portrayed in the latter book (an information-censoring, movement-restricting, individuality-emaciating state) rather than the former (a technology-sedating, consumption-engorging, instant-gratifying bubble).

"We were keeping our eye on 1984," my father wrote. "When the year came and the prophecy didn't, thoughtful Americans sang softly in praise of themselves. The roots of liberal democracy had held. Wherever else the terror had happened, we, at least, had not been visited by Orwellian nightmares."

Unfortunately, there remained a vision we Americans did need to guard against, one that was percolating right then, in the 1980s. The president was a former actor and polished communicator. Our political discourse (if you could call it that) was day by day diminished to soundbites ("Where's the beef?" and "I'm paying for this microphone" became two "gotcha" moments, apparently testifying to the speaker's political formidableness).

The nation increasingly got its "serious" information not from newspapers, which demand a level of deliberation and active engagement, but from television: Americans watched an average of 20 hours of TV a week. (My father noted that USA Today, which launched in 1982 and featured colorized images, quick-glance lists and charts, and much shorter stories, was really a newspaper mimicking the look and feel of TV news.)

But it wasn't simply the magnitude of TV exposure that was troubling. It was that the audience was being conditioned to get its information faster, in a way that was less nuanced and, of course, image-based. . . .

One never says a picture is true or false. It either captures your attention or it doesn't. The more TV we watched, the more we expected – and with our finger on the remote, the more we demanded – that not just our sitcoms and cop procedurals and other "junk TV" be entertaining but also our news and other issues of import. Digestible. Visually engaging. Provocative. In short, amusing. All the time. . . .

Today, the average weekly screen time for an American adult – brace yourself; this is not a typo – is 74 hours (and still going up). . . . The soundbite has been replaced by virality, meme, hot take, tweet. Can serious national issues really be explored in any coherent, meaningful way in such a fragmented, attention-challenged environment? . . .

How seriously should anyone take us, or should we take ourselves, when the "optics" of an address or campaign speech – raucousness, maybe actual violence, childishly attention-craving gestures or facial expressions – rather than the content of the speech determines how much "airtime" it gets, and how often people watch, share and favorite it? . . .

Our public discourse has become so trivialized, it's astounding that we still cling to the word "debates" for what our presidential candidates do onstage when facing each other. Really? Who can be shocked by the rise of a reality TV star, a man given to loud, inflammatory statements, many of which are spectacularly untrue but virtually all of which make for what used to be called "good television"?

Who can be appalled when the coin of the realm in public discourse is not experience, thoughtfulness or diplomacy but the ability to amuse – no matter how maddening or revolting the amusement? . . .

For all the ways one can define fascism (and there are many), one essential trait is its allegiance to no idea of right but its own: it is, in short, ideological narcissism. It creates a myth that is irrefutable (much in the way that an image's "truth" cannot be disproved), in perpetuity, because of its authoritarian, unrestrained nature. . . .

While fake news has been with us as long as there have been agendas, and from both sides of the political aisle, we're now witnessing – thanks to Breitbart News, Infowars and perpetuation of myths like the one questioning Barack Obama's origins – a sort of distillation, a fine-tuning.

"An Orwellian world is much easier to recognize, and to oppose, than a Huxleyan," my father wrote. "Everything in our background has prepared us to know and resist a prison when the gates begin to close around us … [but] who is prepared to take arms against a sea of amusements?"