So the other night at work I'm watching "Larry King Live" on the 24-hour news station CNN. Except Larry ain't live and CNN isn't a 24-hour station.
CNN broadcasts, I don't know, somewhere between 12 and 18 hours of news-ish programming a day. Then it repeats the same shows overnight. They sometimes show Larry King twice overnight, meaning that some days his bland interview with a B-list former newsmaker and/or celebrity (last night it was Donny Osmond) constitutes 1/8 of the network's programming.
Rebroadcast news is not "news" at all. Why is it, then, that CNN is so often referred to as a "24-hour news" station? It seems to just be one of those things that everybody repeats because everybody knows it's true. Except that it's not.
And but so anyway I'm watching Larry King and his guest is megachurch pastor Rick Warren, author of the best-selling self-help book, "The Purpose Driven Life" (here's the transcript).
As a Christian in America, I rarely consider it good news that a pastor/best-selling author is being interviewed on television. The kind of pastors who usually manage to elbow their way in front of the cameras are not usually the kind of pastors who are worth listening to, and such interviews are usually a horrifying embarrassment for the church and the gospel.
Yet Warren is an affable guy and much that he has to say is admirable. He's flush with newfound fame and wealth (he calls them "affluence and influence"), but he seems to take seriously his responsibility to use both wisely. The ratio of "amens" to cringe-inducing moments during Warren's interview is approximately the opposite of what it is with one of the usual suspects of camera-ready telepastors.
So my point here is not to pick on Rick Warren. But having said that, let me pick on Rick Warren for a moment, or at least on something he said the other night. While responding to a question about "spiritual hunger" in America, he said:
"There are really two stories going on in our culture right now. There is the story of things are getting more worse in some ways. We're seeing the increase in violence. We're seeing terrorism. We've seen these recent shootings …"
This isn't really Warren talking. He's reciting, but not citing. This is all common knowledge, received wisdom, accepted truth. Larry listened to this litany of woes without batting an eye — he found these claims to be self-evident, obvious, unremarkable.
"We're seeing the increase in violence," the pastor says, and the newsman nods knowingly. But is this true? Are we, in fact, seeing an "increase in violence"? Are we even looking?
Crime rates, violent-crime rates and murder rates fluctuate, but the trend in recent years has been going down. One could argue, based on such statistics, that we're actually seeing a decrease in violence. Such an argument could easily be bolstered by taking a longer look back in history: Is life in, say, Kansas City more or less violent than it was 100 years ago? How about life in Five Points?
But all that is beside the point. Those reciting and appealing to the narrative about ever-increasing violence and "things getting more worse" don't really care much whether or not this narrative is technically true. The point of the narrative is to sell you a solution to the supposed crisis — and it matters little to them whether the crisis is actual or fictional, as long as you perceive the idea of the crisis you will be receptive to the solution they're selling.
Dr. Harry G. Frankfurt provides a technical term for this rhetorical device in which the speaker is unconcerned with the truth or falsity of the claims he or she is making. Frankfurt calls it "bullshitting."
There's an absurd, Douglas-Adams-ish quality to seeing pastors engage in this kind of crisis-mongering bullshit. The pastors preach, as the song says, that "Jesus is the answer for the world today," but they seem unsure as to what the question was. (What is 7 times 6? Jesus.) If Americans need Jesus because "the violence is increasing," would a decrease in violence mean that Jesus was no longer necessary?
I also happen to believe that "Jesus is the answer," but I don't believe that this precludes me from asking actual, reality-based questions about whether in fact, various kinds of violence are increasing or decreasing. Those questions are useful because they help us to answer further important questions, such as "What steps or policies might be useful to help decrease violence?" Or "What can governments, schools, families, neighborhoods, religious fellowships, civic associations and/or businesses do to help decrease violence?"
Asking such questions requires that one be interested in, and committed to, "things getting less worse." To ask such questions you must believe that some kind of progress is both possible and desirable. But the crisis-mongers are selling progress short. They have an investment, a stake, in the perception that violence is always increasing, schools are always getting worse, society is always slouching towards Gomorrah. The anxiety that such a perception creates is the basis for their marketing of whatever solution, religion, candidate, war or topical cream they happen to be peddling.
"Violence is increasing." It seems to just be one of those things that everybody repeats because everybody knows it's true.
Except that it's not.