Grabbing the IV tray and medications, I headed into an ER exam room one recent evening.
“You *%#($*%!!”
Startled, I glanced first at the patient laying on the bed, and then at his companions occupying the two chairs in the corner. All of them stared silently at their cellphones, seemingly unaware of my entrance.
“What kind of %*&$&#!@ is this?”
Turning and looking up, I saw an angry man hotly confronting his foes on the TV screen suspended in the corner. “That $(%*#@ has double-crossed me—”
“What are you watching?” I asked, opening packages for an IV start.
The patient’s mother, hunched over her cellphone, glanced up briefly before returning to her personal screen. “Don’t know. Just turned it on.”
Made-for-TV Chaos
Things blew up, bullets whistled, people screamed, rubble fell, and sirens wailed as I prepped and rubbed the patient’s forearm in search of a suitable vein to poke. “Wow,” I finally said, ready to run for cover myself, “what TV station is that?”
The teenage patient, watching my every move, looked up to study the televised mayhem that reached a climax before a commercial break. “I’m not sure,” he said, “maybe CBS?”
No more was said about the angry chaos bloating the room. I explained each medication as I gave it, made sure that the IV fluids were infusing, and quickly escaped. Closing the room’s glass sliding door only slightly diminished the din.
While my fingers did the computer charting, my mind brooded. Not to sound like my mother, but—what the heck has happened to TV nowadays?
The Damn TV Program
On March 8, 1965, the first “damn” was uttered in a TV sitcom, not by a criminal or a punk or a plumber, but by a schoolteacher. The world changed a little that day. Fast forward to 2010, and a studious BuzzFeed writer developed a list of “The 68 Words You Can’t Say on TV.”
Only 68.
Fast forward again to 2020, and at least half of those words are off the list and on primetime television. Hollywood’s portrayed language, violence and alternative lifestyles are now our catch phrases, T-shirts and tattoos. Some consider it entertainment. Others see it as progress.
My mother would have called it trash. It never would have been welcomed into our living room. (“The Partridge Family” barely made the cut, but that’s another story.)
So much change in less than a generation. How?
Learning to Stomach the Indigestible
My next novel is officially in the works, tentatively called Life Repairman. Most of the story takes place in Cote d’Ivoire, a struggling African country that continues to lag behind in the basics of food, healthcare and hope.
In 2008, I was part of a church-building team in Cote d’Ivoire. The memories of that mission trip are still vivid. The sweltering +100-degree heat. The endless piles of stinky garbage due to a prolonged city workers’ strike. The tuffs of long grasses breaking through the pavement to flourish in the middle of major streets in the capitol city of Yamoussoukro.
Some details, however, had faded. Like the matter of drinkable water.
Reviewing my trip notes reminded me about the process that the missionaries used each time a new team arrived. Doing heavy physical labor in the excessive heat and humidity made plentiful water essential for our health. But buying enough bottled water for a dozen people sweating under the scorching sun for two weeks is expensive.
Local tap water was not an option. The last thing our tender American tummies can tolerate is most African water. Bad things happen. Quickly.
So, the missionaries developed a system to gradually allow our stomachs to adapt. Upon arrival we drank bottled water. The days passed and filtered local water was mixed in our bottled water. Tiny amounts at first, but by the end of the trip we were weaned from the bottled water and able to tolerate filtered tap water without consequence. We had acclimated our bellies to the indigestible.
Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
Which brings us back to current TV. And movies. And radio. And billboards. And magazine ads. And… the list goes on. It’s as if society’s tolerance for the distasteful is being nudged down an unseen path, a degree at a time, until things that were once outrageous are now barely noticed.
Are you and I the only ones who perceive the change?
Nope.
The Overton Window
A decade ago, author and radio host Glenn Beck wrote a political thriller The Overton Window. In this conspiracy-theory novel, the hero discovers that an elitist group is conspiring to take over America by employing the concept of the Overton Window, an actual theory first published in about 2003.
“There is a powerful technique called the Overton Window that can shape our lives, our laws, and our future. It works by manipulating public perception so that ideas previously thought of as radical begin to seem acceptable over time. Move the Window and you change the debate. Change the debate and you change the country.” Glenn Beck’s “The Overton Window”, 2010.
Buckled
I saw the Overton Window at work long before it had a name. It was the ‘80’s, and I was working in the MN House of Representatives as a speech and media writer. The issue was seat belt laws. Only the most astute observers saw it coming.
Now let’s clarify one thing at the get-go—I believe that using seatbelts is a no-brainer. As a nurse I’ve seen the consequences of not using them. The 1980’s question was never about whether seatbelts were good or bad. The question was whether the government needed to mandate wearing them.
People on one side of the issue believed that citizens, presented with the facts, were smart enough to realize they should wear seatbelts. The opposing side believed that only a law would ensure seatbelt use. Throughout the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s this latter group tried to push through mandatory seatbelt legislation.
The bills were blown out of the water as ridiculous government interference.
Then, during the 1983-84 legislative session, a representative offered a bill that simply declared “seatbelts are good and we endorse their use.” (Written in much loftier language, of course).
How could anyone vote against that? The astute observers groaned.
“No. We’re not lion.”
In another legislative session, another representative offered a bill requiring drivers to use them—no penalty if they didn’t. The debate was much more vocal, but again, it was difficult to oppose the idea of using seatbelts.
Another session, another bill. This one required the drivers to wear seatbelts or get a punitive fine—but it was only an add-on if stopped for another traffic violation. By now, the legislature was getting comfortable with seatbelt laws, and it passed much easier—especially since the money raised by the penalty was going to be used for a “good cause”, such as homeless shelters for cute puppies or some such thing.
Today, any vehicle can be stopped, and the driver fined, if any occupant in the vehicle is not wearing a seatbelt. We love it or hate it, but few people question the government’s right to enforce it.
In short, we learned to stomach what was once indigestible. A paradigm shifted. The Overton Window worked.
In the Company of Conspirators
The Overton Window theory implies that unseen conspirators scheme to manipulate society into accepting the radical and ridiculous. In the case of our current, disintegrating entertainment industry, perhaps the conspirator is society itself, seeking new thrills and new brain candy to feast on in its endless quest for mental recreation.
Not to sound like my mother—
—On the other hand, I DO want to sound like my mother. She was a gentle, intelligent woman with a solid grasp on language. She didn’t need vulgarity or profanity to express herself—one cocked eyebrow said it all. Nor did she tolerate the indigestible parts of movies or TV shows—the “off” button was well worn on her remote.
Mom was rock-solid in what she believed and how she lived. The Overton Window couldn’t nudge her. Maybe if more us lived like that, we could close the window and prevent today’s trends from infiltrating our own lives.