Is television an outpost of cultural imperialism? More than two billion people in poor countries now have access to a set. But, rather than envying the west, they are increasingly tuning in to local programmesby Bella Thomas / January 20, 2003 / Leave a comment
In 1999, an extremist group in Karachi launched a campaign against un-Islamic practices in Pakistan, where satellite television is popular. The most arresting stunt was the burning of a pile of television sets. The group, Tehrik-e-Insdad Munkirat, declared: “the gadgets are satanic devices which corrupt people and society.” It is not alone in thinking this.
Today America is threatened by a hatred that is inflamed by its seduction of television audiences across the world. Or so it is often said. “They hate us because they see endless pictures of our rich, sleazy, easy lives in the soap operas shown around the world”-this was a stock-in-trade of commentators, such as Thomas Friedman, trying to understand the roots of 11th September. In the poorest parts of the world, such images are said to have a particularly malign influence.
The ubiquity of images of American life-with its violence and sexual licence-is supposed to explain both the revulsion against America and the growing Americanisation of the globe. This may seem paradoxical but it is possible to have a range of responses to the same deluge of images-ranging from hatred to envy to a passionate desire to emulate.
This report will delve into those assumptions. It will ask how many of the world’s poor actually have access to a television. It will then look at how much western programming is seen in the developing world and what evidence there is about how it influences people.
These questions are surprisingly difficult to answer. There are few reliable statistics relating to television viewing in Asia and Africa. And there is far more research on the programming strategy of broadcasters in developing countries than on what is actually watched, or, more elusively, on the impact it has. There is a tendency to assume that the poor-unlike the savvy rich-imbibe what they see wholesale. But the effect in say, rural Algeria, of a programme like Dallas is not to create a new cadre of full-blown capitalists bowling through the hammams. Algerians from remote villages are capable of seeing the Texan drama through nostalgic eyes, as representative of a close-knit family and a patriarchal world which they are losing. The way people respond to the same programmes is diverse and surprising; we all bring our own experience to bear on what we see.
HOW MANY POOR PEOPLE WATCH TELEVISION?
In 1980s Cairo, a popular joke used to go around about backward peasants from Upper Egypt, called the Sa’idis. A Sa’idi goes into an appliance store and asks, “how much is that television set in the window?” The owner yells, “get out of here you stupid Sa’idi.” He comes back dressed as a Saudi Arabian. The owner yells the same thing-and again, when he comes back disguised as a European. Puzzled, the man asks, “how could you tell it was me?” The shop owner answers, “that’s not a television, it’s a washing machine.”
Since the 1980s, access to, or ownership of, a television set has grown rapidly throughout Asia and the Arab world-few Egyptian peasants would mistake a washing machine for a television in 2002. In the villages of Upper Egypt where the anthropologist Lila Abu-Lughod conducted a study in the mid-1990s, she found most households had a television set. “Many were simple black-and-white sets with poor reception balanced precariously on rickety shelves in corners of mudbrick rooms. The wealthiest families in the village had large colour sets in rooms that boasted religious calligraphy and padded sofas. But on every poor family’s wish list, were they to save enough for a down payment, was a colour set.”
While there are still hundreds of millions of people-particularly in Africa-who have never seen a set, television viewing is growing in relation to other technologies. There are, for example, more rural Chinese who have access to cable television than to telephones.
One reason it is difficult to establish the precise number of people with access to a set in the poor world-as James Murdoch, chief executive of Star TV Group and son of Rupert, told a cable conference in India-is that individual cable subscribers sometimes pass on the service illegally to an entire neighbourhood. Moreover, in parts of the developing world large numbers of people often crowd into one house or cafe to watch television, a factor that is hard to quantify. But from available figures it seems that the number of sets in the world has tripled since 1980, from 550m to 1.4 billion in 1996, with Asia showing the highest growth from 100m to 650m.
Daya Thussu, in Electronic Empires, estimated that 2.5 billion people have regular access to a television in the south (the developing world)-meaning about half the people that live there-which explains why the western-based media empires have turned their attention to it. China, with a population of 1.3 billion and one of the world’s fastest growing economies, is clearly a prize market for such corporations. By 1999, China had an estimated 350m sets-meaning almost all households had access to television in one way or another-and the television audience has increased from just 18m in 1975 to 540m in 1985, and to 1 billion in 1995. Television stations have also grown substantially from 30 in 1978 to 980 in 1995. Chinese state television CCTV claims to reach 84 per cent of the population, with the number of regular viewers exceeding 900m.
According to Arthur Andersen, which conducted a study for Star TV, television reaches only about half of the population of India; 78.9 per cent of the urban population and 39.8 per cent of the rural population. In total, that is some 80m television households in India (and probably many more), of which half can get cable or satellite. Satellite, once considered the preserve of urban consumers, is now targeting the better-off in India’s villages, especially those in the southern states. In Tamil Nadu, for instance, nearly 32 per cent of rural television viewers tune in to satellite channels.
In sub-Saharan Africa, the picture is very different. Only 2.5 per cent of the world’s televisions are in Africa. Irregular or non-existent electricity supplies are a common feature of the sub-Saharan landscape, which is an obvious barrier to the growth of television. Many countries have extremely limited power distribution networks which do not penetrate significantly into rural areas. Only 3.5 per cent of sub-Saharan Africans own a television and a few countries, such as Tanzania, do not have their own state television service.
WHAT DO THEY WATCH
If figures about access to television sets are inevitably rather vague, it is easier to record the recent explosion in the numbers of channels available. For example, in 1991, there was only one television channel in India; ten years later there are well over 100. By 1998, most of the leading transnational media companies, such as Star TV, BBC, Discovery, MTV, Sony, CNN, Disney and CNBC were all operating in India through cable and satellite.
In 1998, according to Screen Digest, there were more than 2,600 television channels operating in the world, most of them private. What sort of programmes are these channels transmitting? Two trends stand out. The first is the growth of entertainment programmes in relation to current affairs-such that news programmes themselves have often become a form of “infotainment.” Miss Egypt, for example, now reads the news on Egypt’s Dream TV. In the transition from the Soviet Union to today’s Russia, the broadcasting time for fiction grew by 44 per cent (with cartoons up by 176 per cent); for entertainment by 192 per cent. Transmission time for information programmes fell by 61 per cent.
Second, countries in the first stage of globalisation tend to experience a wave of western programming; but in the second and third waves of globalisation, local versions of western programmes or genuinely local programmes become more visible. Terhi Rantanen, a media analyst at the LSE, says of Russian television that “the novelty value that western programmes and advertisements once had was lost in the 1990s.” Increasingly, Russians watch Russian programmes.
This is also evident in the development of Al-Jazeera, the independent Qatar-based Arab news channel, as well as Star TV and Zee TV in India and Phoenix TV in China. In all these countries, there is a boom in local programming. As Rupert Murdoch put it “everywhere I go, it is local programming that is proving most popular.” Western influence on television should not be underestimated, but it is not as saturating as the proponents of cultural imperialism believe-and while there may be many American soaps filling in the dead times in the afternoon, they are not, in general, the most popular programmes.
THE SATELLITE AND CABLE EXPLOSION
The most profitable areas of television content for media organisations intent on investing in the developing world are films, soaps, sports and children’s programmes; these transcend barriers of culture and language, unlike news and current affairs, which demand knowledge of local politics and are more likely to be subject to state control. One field of assured success for cable and satellite stations operating in the south is the children’s market, which was neglected by national channels. In 1994, under a quarter of Disney’s $10.1 billion in revenue came from outside the US, by 2006, it is aiming to generate half from abroad.
Overall, the most popular multi-country channel in the south is probably MTV, which has contracts with local stations that give it local flavour. But the one that makes the most money is ESPN (Disney’s sports channel) which claims over 120m subscribers in Asia and 14.5m in Latin America. Sport-dominated by soccer (a non-American global phenomenon it should be noted)-has had the greatest expansion of all in the last ten years.
In the middle east the Gulf war gave a push to the spread of satellite television. The region became a focus for international news agencies. Bahrain, disregarding the impact on Islamic culture, began to rebroadcast CNN 24 hours a day on conventional terrestrial systems, with a booster to allow reception in Saudi Arabia and other Arab states. This became a spur to Arab countries to acquire their own satellite systems.
Egypt was the first to launch an international broadcasting service for the Arab world when the Egyptian Space Channel (ESC) started transmission on Arabsat at the end of 1990. This was followed by Nile TV, another Egyptian international satellite service, in 1993, and the Middle East Broadcasting Centre, run by Saudi Arabians from London. Orbit Satellite-set up by a Saudi group in Rome in 1994-covers all countries in the middle east and North Africa: it carries 24 television and 24 radio networks including CNN, Disney’s entertainment and sports channels and the Discovery channel. In 1997, Orbit Satellite was watched by 3.1m homes in the Arab world and its diaspora.
Meanwhile, in Asia, the Phoenix Chinese Channel is a general entertainment satellite channel with most of its programming in Mandarin. Part-owned by Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation, it was launched in Hong Kong in 1996. It also has a 24-hour movie channel broadcasting Chinese and western film classics. In 1999, Phoenix claimed to be reaching almost two billion people in more than 30 Asian countries, including 47m households in mainland China.
In India, the national channel Doordarshan has three main competitors-Star Plus, Zee TV and the Japanese Sony TV-but there are over 100 others available. Zee is the biggest and increasingly makes programmes in Indian languages.
THE RETURN OF THE LOCAL
The trend in many television markets is to localise the global, to take a western format, juggle with it, and produce a Hindi or a Mandarin version. There is, for instance, a Saudi version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire called Who Will Win the Million? which is one of Saudi Arabia’s most popular programmes.
This has been happening across Asia, Latin America and Russia. Russian audiences embraced foreign films, serials and advertising with gusto after the collapse of communism. But soon they began to find old Soviet programmes attractive again. So, even-as in Russia-with an open-door policy the national did not surrender to the global.
Another example of this localising phenomenon is Al-Jazeera which now reaches viewers in more than 20 Arab countries via satellite. Al-Jazeera beams its signal free of charge to most countries, so all that is needed is a dish, which is as common in the Cairo slums as it is in the mansions of Dubai. It enjoys a worldwide market share of 35m viewers-but as the Arab population is about 250m, it is not as all-pervasive as is sometimes claimed. Yet the point about Al-Jazeera is that it is steeped in western journalistic values that have been re-crafted in an Arab guise: its shows have names like The Opposite Direction and it has unusually aggressive questioning. Since it grew out of a failed joint venture in 1996 between the BBC and the Saudi company, Orbit, this is not surprising; many of the journalists once worked for the BBC.
In the case of India, media empires have had to adjust their strategies to suit the Indian context. Star TV, which in 1993 was bought by Rupert Murdoch, realised that its mainly US-originated programming was only reaching a tiny, although wealthy, urban audience. They therefore started adding Hindi subtitles to Hollywood films broadcast on its 24-hour channel, and dubbing popular US soaps into Hindi. In October 1996, Star Plus began telecasting programmes in English and Hindi. In 1999 it claimed 19m viewers in India.
Another example of this cultural hybridity is Zee TV, India’s first private Hindi-language satellite channel. Zee was launched in October 1992 and depended initially on recycled programming. It then broke television taboos by broadcasting programmes about sex, relationships and horoscopes. The channel thrives on a mixture of Hindi film, serials, musical countdowns and quiz contests. Zee’s innovative programming, includes news in “Hinglish.” Despite the influence of the English language in India, the biggest media growth is in regional languages. Even US serials like Friends (known as Hello Friends) have been hybridised, although the latter has not been as successful as expected-the lifestyle of the Hyderabadi versions of the New Yorker originals did not settle in the Indian imagination.
The revenge of the local has yet to hit places such as sub-Saharan Africa, where the poverty of the region makes it difficult for local channels to make their own programmes. Countries such as Cape Verde and Djibouti import over 90 per cent of their programmes.
COMPLEXITY OF WESTERN INFLUENCE
So the picture across the south is mixed, depending on the novelty value of western programmes, the wealth of the state in question and the degree of globalisation. US programmes and distribution systems remain important. And many programmes made in the west do strike a chord in unlikely places. These include Baywatch (which became very popular in certain parts of India) Dallas, Miami Vice, Columbo (especially in Russia). And Asia is the biggest market for MTV, with over 135m households in 23 countries reputedly watching its programmes regularly.
Is it possible to quantify the penetration of western programmes? John Tomlinson of Nottingham Trent University argues that surveys of prime time scheduling around the world show that it is domestically produced programmes which almost always top the ratings during peak viewing hours, with US imports filling the less popular times.
Stuart Cunningham of the Queensland University of Technology agrees that the image of the west at the centre dominating the developing world periphery is mistaken. In fact, the world is divided into a number of regions which each have their own internal dynamics and global ties. These regions are based not only on geography but also on common cultural, linguistic and historical connections. Latin America markets its programmes in eastern Europe. The Mexican soap The Rich Also Cry was very popular in Russia and the former Soviet republics. Egyptian television is popular across the Arab world, while Turkish soaps are watched in central Asia.
In Latin America, US imports were prominent only in the early stages of mass television. As the industry matured, they were replaced by local products. The pattern in Latin America, as in Asia and the middle east, is that “each geolinguistic region” is dominated by one or two centres of audiovisual production-Mexico and Brazil for Latin America, Hong Kong for Taiwan and China, Egypt and the Lebanon for the Arab world. Zee TV is also now targeting audiences in the rich north, in places such as Britain with large Asian populations.
Media globalisation can go into reverse. Under the Shah, Iranian national radio and television showed large numbers of US films and soaps. After the revolution in 1979, the media was purged of all western elements, which in recent years has made Iranians especially interested in foreign satellite channels, for news, information, and above all for entertainment. The Islamic Council Assembly decreed in 1994 that watching international television was a “sinful act” and banned the manufacture or use of satellite dishes.
None the less, many homes in Iran do possess satellite dishes and the government has increased the number of television networks from two to five in order to compete with international television. But in spite of these efforts the national broadcasting body is thought to have lost some 67 per cent of its audience to foreign competition. According to one resident of Tehran, a market for boxes designed to hide satellite dishes took off in the 1990s and some people rent out their flats to Baywatch fans-for an income that covers the cost of the fine, in the event of discovery.
IMPACT OF WESTERN TELEVISION
There is no scientific way of measuring the effects of television on behaviour or attitudes in either the rich world or the poor world. Quantifying how western television alters perceptions in the developing world has barely been attempted. Some might claim, for example, that an aggressive interview on Al-Jazeera marks a new rebelliousness in the Arab way of life. But such people come to their conclusions impressionistically.
All manner of goods and bads have been attributed to television. A Peruvian soap opera called Simplemente Maria (Simply Maria), for example, was supposed to have made schooling trendy in Lima. Maria, a maid who educated herself with the help of a tutor and who ended up marrying her literacy teacher, was so popular that the military junta rescheduled its meetings to watch the show. Adult literacy is said to have soared in Peru.
Media influence theorists such as George Gerbner and Larry Gross or Ariel Dorfman and Armand Mattelart have all assumed a significant western influence carried with western programming. Dorfman and Mattelart’s seminal book of the 1970s, How to Read Donald Duck, argued that the Disney comics were “carriers” of American capitalist values. Uncle Scrooge, in their reading, is a “device for concealing the organised power of the capitalist class behind the pathetic sentimental solitude of a comic millionaire miser.” But some of the most interesting micro-studies take issue with the assumptions of the cultural imperialists. One such study by Elihu Katz and Tamar Liebes was about the impact of Dallas on immigrants from Morocco, Russia and elsewhere in Israel. They organised 50 focus groups with people from different national backgrounds. Even at the basic level of a discussion of what had happened in each episode, they found divergent understandings. One of the Arabic groups “misread” the programme in a way which made it more compatible with their own cultural ethos. When Sue Ellen ran away with her baby to her former lover and his father, the Arab group argued that she had actually gone to live with her own father. This detail, the researchers argued, shows that “texts” do not cross cultural boundaries intact. Indeed, they claimed that Dallas reinforced the audience’s own cultural values. Many viewers found comfort in their distance from the troubles at Southfork ranch.
In another study, Ien Ang wrote about the Dutch and Dallas. Ang found that her enjoyment of the show cut against her awareness of its ideological content. In a study of 42 devotees of the Ewing saga, Ang found that each had their own relationship to the programme: love of Pamela, exaggerated clothes, the American cities, the awfulness of JR, being in touch with America, the close family circuit, the “reality” of the programme, the “unreality” of the programme. She concluded that what appeals to us in such a serial is connected with individual life histories, and the social situation we are each in.
Viewers may well see what they are supposed not to see. An air of unreality was what viewers in Egypt found mesmerising about the US soap The Bold and the Beautiful over the more politicised Egyptian serial Himmaya Nights. The British journalist John Lloyd remembers the Russians who, in the years before glasnost, watched Soviet propaganda featuring the baleful poverty in the streets of the west: they gazed, he noted, not at the beggars in the foreground, but at the luxury shops, brimming with Rolex watches and haute couture behind them. The poverty of the beggars was familiar to them; it was the riches that caught their eye.
And there are those who are inured to television and see only what is akin to their own experience. Reflecting on the impact of an Egyptian political drama, Love in a Diplomatic Pouch, Lila Abu-Lughod noticed how villagers of Upper Egypt ignored the aspects of the programme that were not part of their experience. They picked up on the moral message of the serial, the importance of the mother’s role in raising her children. But they ignored the men who could not commit themselves to marry for fear of losing their freedom. She wrote, “the villagers were an elusive target for the cultural elite’s modernising messages.”
These divergent observations are neither systematic, nor exhaustive. But they do at least puncture the simple view of the impact of western television. Some people watch television and relax, others become agitated, some notice the familiar, others notice only the unfamiliar. To conduct a scientific study to measure the impact of western television, to understand, for example, what real impact Baywatch has had on viewing communities in Tehran, it would be necessary to observe the whole individual, and to take into account a host of other personal and political factors. To make potential research even more complicated, it is also possible to absorb things unconsciously. And it is likely that the more television you watch, the more resistant you are to any impact. Perhaps it is no wonder that this kind of research is rarely attempted any more.
Television, then, may influence us in many ways, and none. We should recall, as Virginia Woolf put it, that each individual is at least 28 selves. Television merely creates a 29th.
Television facts. . .
WORLD’S BIGGEST TV MARKETS 1997 (million homes)
United States: 98
TOP FILMS ON RUSSIAN TV, 1999
1. Peculiarities of National Fishing (Russia)
2. Pretty Woman (United States)
3. Ivan Vasilievich is Changing Job (Russia)
4. Hard Target (United States)
5. On Deadly Ground (United States)
6. Official Romance (Russia)
7. Cross-roads (Russia)
8. Most Charming and attractive (Russia)
9. The Man in the Iron Mask (United States-England)
10. Metro (United States)
SOAP OPERA IN KAZAKHSTAN
The mix of influences in programming is well illustrated by a British “Know-How Fund” project in the mid-1990s to teach Kazakhs how to make a soap opera. The aim was to twist western formulas into Kazakh shape. The Kazakh soap opera was to be called Crossroads, and it was part-produced by Portobello Media, who also produced EastEnders, on which it was loosely modelled. Crossroads aimed to teach economic literacy to Kazakhs, incorporating issues such as privatisation, market reform and issues of ethnic plurality into the storylines. The British introduced concepts such as the cliffhanger, the story-lining narrative, and open-endedness. But soon cultural gulfs began to open between the two teams. The American anthropologist, Ruth Mandel, who monitored the experiment, describes some of the gulfs in a new book, Media Worlds (University of California, 2002). On one occasion, for example, the Kazakhs staged a mini-revolt against the “open nature” of the genre-demanding to know the ending to a potentially endless story. Also the British arranged intermarriages in the story between Russians and Kazakhs which displeased some of the Kazakh writers. Other Kazakhs were annoyed that the evil characters were Kazakh, not Russian. After the British left, all the intermarriages ended in divorce. And once it became a purely Kazakh production, Crossroads entered what Peter Brooks called the “moral occult,” the melodramatic characteristic whereby the improbable meets the unlikely: the honest detective discovers that his half-brother is his sworn enemy, and so on.