The Trouble with Television
I'm an only child, and I grew up in the 1980s and 90s, so I have watched more than my fair share of TV (whatever you feel a "fair share" is of broadcast entertainment, I assure you I got mine plus enough for 3 or 4 other kids). Game shows with my parents; Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous with my grandparents; cartoons on my own after school and on weekends. Nobody questioned the impact of screen time on health or personality when I was a kid. Commercials weren't a problem, just the price you paid for programming, and adult content was something you'd see on the news channel, reported well after the fact, at a somber and discrete distance.
When I had a child of my own, my mother asked why I didn't just let her fall asleep in front of the TV, held by her father, like my Dad used to do for me before bedtime. I stared at her, agog that this was ever possible, but said that things are different now. Mum shakes her head. I can see she thinks I'm delusional, but it's true.
How we watch is different. Programming is different. Screens are different.
Television for us now is Netflix, or Amazon Prime, or YouTube. There are no commercial breaks. There's no "tune in next time for the thrilling finale!" because next time is? Right. Now. The autoplay feature, which defaults to the next episode unless you take action to prevent it, allows children too young to operate a remote to watch ceaseless hours of Paw Patrol uninterrupted by anything short of starvation, a shame-filled parent, or the complete loss of bladder control.
Over the years, the increasing value of TV tie-in marketing has exploded; so too has the art of making characters and their accessories instantly recognizable and desirable. The shows themselves follow strict formulas, with near-numbing repetition, not just of main character names and scenery, but catchphrases, costumes, colours, intros, montage sequences, songs, plot devices, and secondary characters. My child knows the name of every pup on Paw Patrol, both mayors, the French boat guy, Daring Danny X and at least a dozen other minor players, but she's not 100% certain of the names of all of her teachers at daycare.
The screens themselves are the final piece of the extra-addictive modern television problem. In my youth, the television was just that - a square, boxy object that sat, ungainly, on a shelf bought to hold its weight and hide its wires. There was a cable box nearby, and a VCR, and a bunch of big black remote controls with a befuddling array of buttons. We would turn it on at certain times of day and fuss about waiting for the screen to warm up and the set to adjust to the right channel, and wait for a show to come on. When the show did appear, it was low-resolution, in a square aspect ratio, with whatever sound your set would cough out.
Now, the average new TV is as wide as my armspan, with blindingly bright LEDs pushing out crisper-than-reality images and sound channeled through secondary sound systems. Remotes have buttons with the words "Netflix" and "YouTube" printed right on there, so one click and you're dialed in to the Matrix. At any given time, most North American homes have at least 2 and maybe upwards of 8 other devices capable of playing videos - your mobile phones, tablets, computers and laptops. Anything with a browser and a battery that can connect to wifi. TV is used to anesthetize kids on everything from plane rides to car rides, restaurant visits to grown-up parties. There's very little space for boredom these days.
Please don't think I'm preaching from some elevated pulpit. I have made conscious decisions to allow myself and my kid access to these shows, on these networks, on these devices, on these occasions. It's so damned easy, and sometimes parents need a break. I try not to get panicky about the situation. My kid still enjoys books, still plays creative games, still craves jigsaw puzzles and loves to draw and dress up. I don't think television is stunting her growth as a person, but I like to stay mindful of these changes in the speed and accessibility and insidious ease of the medium, to keep myself accountable on those days when I choose "low effort parenting".
I also want to make sure I challenge my own consumption of adult shows that follow a similarly catchy formula, so I maintain a healthy balance of creating as well as consuming media. Is it okay to indulge in a bout of binge-watching "The Good Place" or "RuPaul's Drag Race"? Sure. Should I allow those moments of respite and rest to transform into: less reading, less writing, less painting, less knitting, less physical activity? Hell no. Numbers matter. Hours of sedentary leisure time add up into days and weeks. Moderation in all things, friends. Especially when you know you've got (or have been programmed to have?) a weakness for it.