The Bloody Truth About Television Violence

There was a time not so long ago when violent content in television programming was a priority issue. It was so serious that Congress held hearings on the subject and a ratings system was implemented. The mere mention of televised blood and gore would agitate parent groups and ignite advertiser concerns.

Violence on television was among the many issues (including violence in other media) that came to a boil four years ago this week in the immediate aftermath of the mass murder at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado. How the world has changed since then. Concern about television violence seems almost trivial today given the real life violence that has filled our lives since September 2001. It is difficult to get all worked up over gunplay and bloodshed on television in the midst of ongoing terror alerts and concerns about current and possible future wars.

Meanwhile, kids everywhere are happily mesmerized by the interactive violence of so many video games, and while movie theaters have stepped up efforts to keep children out of R-rated movies, those same films are available virtually everywhere on cable, DVD and video.

The success that HBO has enjoyed with such violent series as "The Sopranos" and "Oz" has seemingly inspired an ever-increasing level of murder and mayhem on broadcast and basic cable programming, the most recent examples being FX's extraordinary "The Shield" and NBC's "Kingpin" (an eagerly anticipated but ultimately disappointing miniseries designed to push the limits of broadcast content).

Viewers Support Blood, Guts And Gore Galore

The last I heard, the overall impact on children of televised nudity and sex was debatable. But I have never heard an argument that supported exposure to violence. Nevertheless, television violence is not the hot button issue that it was as recently as two years ago. In fact, the broadcast viewing audience has voted in favor of blood, guts and gore galore by supporting the very violent "CSI" on CBS with such gusto that it has become the top-rated drama on television. CBS this week repeated an episode of the "CSI" spin-off "CSI: Miami" (the top-rated new drama of the 2002-03 season) in which the investigators pieced together (and the program re-created) the brutal murder of a Miami family, including the violent deaths of a nine-year-old boy and a baby. As I watched this episode for a second time, I was struck by my lack of response to the graphic images on screen, including that of the dead mother, whose lower face had been shot off, and a teenage boy gunned down by his father while clutching his infant sibling, who also died during the bloody assault. I had been horrified by all of this the first time around. What happened in the interim? Is it desirable to find such nightmarish material less disturbing upon multiple viewings?

I stopped watching "Oz" after the final episode of its second season, during which a prisoner known as Beecher was tied up like a human pretzel after his four limbs were broken. I simply did not want to carry memories of any additional ultra-violent acts, even if they were all make believe. Would I have felt less sickened by those sequences if I had watched subsequent episodes and endured further savagery?When Is A Beating Not A Beating?

Recently, The WB's "Angel" and UPN's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" have further tested my continually compromised aversion to violence. Both of these series have long histories of brutality in their storytelling. Viewers aren't supposed to react, though, because the people on these shows who suffer multiple beatings, stabbings and other physical torments are actually unnaturally strong supernatural beings, even if they look human and vulnerable. The recent prolonged beatings that returning character Faith suffered on Angel during encounters with two monsters were difficult to watch. So was the burning and stabbing of a young woman by a demon disguised as a priest on Buffy last week. Nothing prepared me, however, for the graphic close-up of that evil priest gouging out the right eye of Xander, a mere human.

Strangely, I was prepared for the graphic torture of counter terrorism agent Jack Bauer on "24," also last week, because it was the show's third explicit torture sequence this season. I was truly sickened by the second torture scene, a bloody bit that aired back in January. The ruthless torment of Agent Bauer seemed almost mild by comparison, even though it grew so severe that Jack briefly died.

In this new era of adult television viewing, the complexity of violence management has replaced the challenge of violence prevention. That ship hasn't just sailed. It has been blown out of the water by some of the very best shows on television.

By Ed Martin

Courage

What torture to see a parent disintegrating; slowly fading away in front of you. You stare at them as if its there’s something you must do before………before it’s too late? And yet, you don’t know what the “do” is.

You stare at them hoping your gaze will heal their emotional pain. You stare at them hoping that they know how much you love them. You stare at them hoping the whole thing will go away and it’s just a dream.

Rare for New England in April, the week started with a burst of warm sunshine, which thankfully reminded me that the world was a beautiful place, full of beautiful things. That pain and sadness were just part of the journey and nothing is ever permanent.

Be gone lonely solitude, cold wet spring nights and confusion. Circle me, engulf me, torture me oh feelings of bewilderment, abandonment and disparagement. There he lie slipping from my grasp, no longer always understanding my story or my face. And there he lie, the one who I knew would never abandon me. Not until the day he died.

It’s not as if I’m angry with him; I’m angry at myself. Angry that I can’t do anything to stop this hideous process. And yet intellectually I know it’s the passing of time and his time is nearing. When the childhood and teenage images fill my head and I reflect, it’s as if a couple of decades can be summed up in a drone-like monologue of what we have become through them….what we represent, what they do……..

Then the voices start haunting you, late at night, at 3 in the morning, while you’re in the shower, driving your car. Some of the voices are questions – “What am I supposed to do?” “What do you want me to do?” “How can I save you?” “How can I take away your pain?” “How can I give you your youth and freedom back?”

Then when you’re at the stage where you see them slipping almost daily, but you haven’t faced the inevitable that they’ll shortly be leaving you in the physical sense forever, the voices start to analyze it all. “Who were they?” “Who did they ‘want’ to be?” “Who have I become from knowing them, being loved by then?” “Who was this creature who gave me life, choices, opportunities, education, exposure to the sun itself?”

And then – “What did they ‘stand’ for?” and “what do I really want to stand for?” Voices, voices, voices. Be gone voices. Give me a clear sky, an early morning lake without even a ripple, a hammock hanging from a tree where I can just stare into space and be at peace with this painful process.

I know that peace comes after you face grieving. The pain never goes away, but you do gain peace. And while I lost my first parent at age 16 and have mourned others over the years, this one is different. This one ‘feels’ like an ax to your limbs; it’s your last connection, not to family, but to your roots, your soil, your purpose, your spirit.

When you unleash unconditional love and don’t fight where it takes you, you realize there isn’t anything more powerful or meaningful to experience on your life’s journey. It is without condition and knows no fear or ownership.

And during this turbulent spring, I also thought of my wild moments and those filled with humor, love, serenity and passion. I thought of who I have loved and who loved me back, who I touched and who touched me back, who I inspired and who inspired me back – the who and what drives us all to continue to connect positively with ourselves, our friends, our children, and our world.

I took a drive on Tuesday afternoon, after a long business meeting at the Waltham Westin. The sun was shining again, this time with a warm breeze that swept in through my window and open roof. At times like this, I’m often overwhelmed with gratitude, up the volume on my stereo and sing with as much energy and passion as I’m capable of while sitting in a car.

I thought of the word courage. It’s what he would have said. You’ve always had courage, you’ve always had faith, you’ve always had strength he would have said. Courage be with me when I hear his voice and see his sad eyes and hollow face. His voice, softer. His strength, weaker. His smile, less often. His hope, I’m not sure I know.

AHA. My first email address which I still have today, has the word courage in it. No, I haven’t forgotten.

I’m currently reading a Civil War novel where the underlying themes are loneliness, despair and courage.

It is about a woman named Sara, who loses her child to the Federalists, after making a home for herself and her child in the mountains….the cold mountains. She has courage and it never wanes. And “she always sang as if unashamed.”