Misunderstood, maybe -- but a 'yawner,' never
By Uri Dromi Posted Wed, Jun 20 2007
TV host Sasha Young of Russia Today 24-hour English-language TV news channel smiles during her presentation in Moscow, Thursday, Sept. 15, 2005. Russia on Thursday launched experimental broadcasts of a new 24-hour English-language TV news channel aimed at polishing its image abroad and presenting foreign audiences with a Russian view of the world. (AP Photo/Sergey Ponomarev )
When was the first time I became suspicious of television? Maybe it was when I went to Los Angeles, some 15 years ago, to debate with a Palestinian intellectual at a local television station. I walked out pretty satisfied, feeling that my preparations paid off, and that I was capable of making some good points.
The producer walked me to my car. ''So, what do you think?'' I inquired. She gave me a look. ``You want my professional opinion? I think you need a parting in your hair.''
“A parting in my hair?!'' I gasped in disbelief. ``But what about my arguments?''
''Your arguments?'' she snorted in pity. ''People take one look at you, and right away they make up their mind: Does he come across as someone who knows what he's talking about? Is he passionate about the issues discussed? Do I believe him? You see,'' she continued in a didactic tone, ``people bump into this show accidentally, while zapping. Your job is to make them stay''.
With this lesson embedded in my mind, I became the spokesman of the Rabin government. I had a parting in my hair and became picky with my ties. Why? Because one day I received a gift box from America. It was a beautiful, dark tie. My anonymous benefactor added a note, explaining the gift: ``You're a good man and you're trying to help your country's PR; but with the ties you're wearing, people might wonder if you're really telling them the truth.''
Impatient anchor
I also learned how to squeeze complex insights into simple sound-bytes. In 1995, I had to explain why we were carrying on with the Oslo peace process while the Palestinians were spreading death in our cities. I said on television, ''We will fight terror as if there was no peace process and we will pursue the peace process as if there was no terror.'' I rehearsed it many times, so I could say it quickly enough without letting an impatient anchor interrupt me.
Obviously, I couldn't admit that I had stolen that phrase from David Ben Gurion, the founder of the state of Israel, who had said it before, in 1939. Try explaining this on television. The anchor will tune out, and you will be pulled off the air in no time, labeled forever as a ''yawner.'' Television is not a place for elaborate historical context. Have a simple story, with bad guys and good guys, and rush to the next item.
When I left the government, I vowed to stay away from television. Suddenly, I wasn't being forced anymore to have a clear-cut opinion on every complicated issue. Like most normal people, I rediscovered that there were issues I wasn't sure about. There were times I changed my mind and there were even times when I had mixed feelings about certain things. I breathed again.
Then this week, the commission on the last war in Lebanon issued its damning report. All hell broke loose, with almost everyone calling for the resignation of Prime Minister Ehud Olmert. I disagreed and felt that the commission had given the Israeli public a rare opportunity to look closely at its flaws and to fix them. Having Olmert resign would only throw Israel into a political mayhem, thus, missing the chance to implement the lessons and recommendations of this important report.
Hammering the message
So I went to the television studio again. The anchor fired straight away: ''So, when will Olmert resign?'' I hardly managed to say I wasn't sure he should resign in the first place, when she interrupted me. ''What do you mean he shouldn't resign, with this kind of report?'' I tried to make the point that when we elect our leaders, we should accept that they are mortals who might make mistakes, and that we shouldn't depose them after their first failure, because then no serious person would ever run for high office. I wasn't sure I hammered the message in and I could only imagine the storm in the control room: ``Who is this guy? Who brought him here to spoil the party?''
The following day, a cab driver recognized me. ''You were great on television,'' he congratulated me. ''What do you mean?'' I asked suspiciously. ''You gave them hell,'' he said. ``You really showed the door to all those SOBs who refuse to resign.''
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