Every electronic
media product launch or network debut carries with it an implicit
fantasy scenario of its domestic consumption, a polemical ontology
of its medium, and an ideological rationale for its social function.
The scattered public record of these self-representations, in
the ephemeral forms of TV commercials, corporate press releases,
and trade-press reporting, can offer insights into the larger
contexts and implicit assumptions within which media firms operate.
The current period of confusion and conflict among the would-be
architects of our putative post-television age offers a productive
site to investigate the ways in which wider social, technological,
and political changes may deform or put into crisis such calculated
representations of media apparatus and artifact. The shifting
boundaries between analogue and digital, cinema and television,
and broadcasting and the Internet, throw into question traditional
critical oppositions between domestic and public media reception,
active and passive scenarios of consumption, and authored and
non-authored texts. As powerful firms within and outside the television
industry improvise strategies of competition and alliance around
the introduction of digital products and services, new self-serving
fantasies of the medium's nature and use will undoubtedly be offered
to consumers and policy-makers. We have much to learn in attending
to such frankly commercial discourses, despite their ephemeral
nature and regardless of their ultimate accuracy, for such instrumental
fantasies of consumption can speak eloquently of the larger cultural
ambivalence regarding new communications technologies. This paper
represents a modest effort toward this larger goal through an
examination of the introduction of a new consumer product in the
US, the digital "personal video recorder" or PVR.
One way
to assess the significance of technological innovations such
as the PVR is to chart their impact upon traditional assumptions
about television and its audience, assumptions themselves informed
by specific historical forces within and outside of the television
industry. The current turmoil around the transition to digital
standards throws into stark relief how far the industry has
moved from the instrumental fantasies of reception, ontology,
and national identity associated with the era of network television
in the United States from the 1940s into the 1980s. The first
four decades of postwar American television, dominated by the
formidable economic and cultural power of three network firms,
is noteworthy beyond the phenomenal economic prosperity and
relative structural stability that the TV industry enjoyed.
As commercial television was consolidated within American economic
and cultural life, a remarkably consistent and enduring set
of ideas about the general nature and function of the television
medium was also elaborated. Responding in complex ways to the
self-promoting discourses of industry groups, including network
defenses of their economic power, a web of "common sensical,"
if largely implicit, propositions about the medium permeated
public and trade discussions of the TV medium. These assumptions
found a place within both popular and elite criticism of television,
were invoked by both defenders and antagonists of the industry,
and guided policy-makers and legislators concerned with the
medium, sustaining an common image of television as quotidian,
advertising-dominated, audio-driven, visually impoverished,
female-centered, and passively consumed. In American media scholarship,
it was not until the somewhat belated impact of cultural studies
approaches to audience studies that such constructions underwent
systematic revision. Unlike the cultural positioning of cinema
in the US since the 1940s, increasingly associated with the
possibilities for artistic status, personal expression, cosmopolitanism,
and high cultural prestige, American television was generally
construed in terms of its domesticity, liveness, and its role
as an indispensable agent of national identity. The significance
of the current period of technological innovation within moving-image
culture is suggested by the ongoing erosion of the consensus
regarding many of these traditional propositions about the nature
and uses of commercial television.
Leaders
of the three dominant US networks at the height of their enormous
postwar prosperity and power had their own reasons for ratifying
these imagined essentialized features of the medium. Countless
network statements in the mid-1950s linked commercial television's
role as nation-builder with the medium's purportedly all-powerful
relationship with its domestic audience. In 1954, the year that
CBS became the world's largest single advertising medium, CBS
network president Frank Stanton told a gathering of journalists:
"The most remarkable thing is what the Public does. Putting
aside all other considerations, the public glues its eyes and
ears to newspapers, loudspeakers and television tubes; seeing
everything, hearing everything and--heaven help us all--believing
everything." Stanton outlined the importance of the commercial
media in constituting American national identity for such a
credulous population: "We give America
its daily consciousness of being a Nation. If it weren't
for us, private individuals all, and private businesses all,
America would not know where it stood or what it felt." Stanton
concluded by defending television's role as nation-builder:
"I am far from saying we are a perfect mirror, or even always
a well-polished one,...but if this mirror were shattered, the
National Countenance would disappear."[1]
The
US television networks had specific motives in the mid-1950s
for claiming the role of national looking glass and consciousness-maker.
Two network firms, CBS and NBC, which controlled
only 11 percent of television industry assets, took in an estimated
43 percent of total industry profits in 1955.[2] The previous year, CBS alone captured 28 percent of the profits
of the entire television industry, boosted by an annual return
of 1800 percent from the operation of its New York City station.[3] Given their vulnerability to public and regulatory complaints
of monopoly power, the networks defended their monopoly on live
provision of nationwide programming with appeals to national
identity and necessity. For example, CBS's Frank Stanton told
a Congressional committee in 1956 that "to curtail or destroy
the networks' unique quality of instantaneous national interconnection
would be a colossal backward step. It would make the United
States much more like Europe than America. In fact, it would
be a step in the direction of the Balkanization, the
fragmentation, of the United States."[4]
If
network leaders in the 1950s claimed that US national identity
depended upon their unfettered market power, they also argued
for their own legitimation via a quasi-electoral mechanism of
viewer channel choice; as Stanton told the Congressional committee,
"a network draws its validity in precisely the same fashion
as an elected official of government -- from election by and
of the people."[5] Thus the image of television
as a quasi-statist oligopoly serving a domesticated and credulous
audience was reinforced by network leaders defending their monopoly
powers from the threats of regulation and competition.
In
a similar manner, leaders of the two major networks defended
their commercial practices before a series of congressional
committees in the mid-1950s by associating their operations
with ontological and aesthetic claims for the privileged status
of live television, what CBS's Frank Stanton called "the very
lifeblood and magic of television."[6] During
the 1950s, the networks posited this
strategic ontology of liveness against competition from potential
pay-television services built upon the feature film libraries
of the Hollywood studios. In CBS's Annual Report for
1955, Stanton argued that such networks would "highjack the
American public into paying for the privilege
of looking at its own television sets."[7]
In a 1955 CBS pamphlet, Stanton described pay television as
"a booby trap, a scheme to render the television owner blind,
and then rent him a seeing eye dog at so much per mile -- to
restore to him, only very partially, what he had previously
enjoyed as a natural right."[8] CBS's mid-1950s
evocation of pay television as a violation of both television's
ontological destiny of liveness and of the "natural rights"
of television viewers resonated with the pervasive rhetoric
of anti-Americanism in the political discourse of the time and
implicitly aligned advertising-supported television with the
legitimating operations of the state. Television's association
in both elite and public opinion with viewer credulity, liveness,
consumer sovereignty, and national identity was sustained by
industry leaders and critics alike over the three or four decades
of network domination of the US television industry after WWII.
If many
of the truisms about American commercial television can be traced
back to the era of network ascendancy of the mid-1950s, such
associations endured long after network power began to fade
in the mid-1970s. The traditional opposition in reception sites
between the domestic television receiver and the public cinema
screen, with its persistent gender implications, has recently
been challenged both by the growing popularity of domestic home-theatre
installations and by the prospect of the electronic distribution
and projection of feature films in public cinemas. While decried
by some critics as the lamentable "domestication" of the theatrical
film experience, the 1990s home-theatre boom has provided new
masculinist pleasures of technological fetishism and feature-film
collecting and connaiseurship and has arguably changed the modes
of attention and sociality around which at least some television
is consumed in the home. More significantly, prospective changes
associated with digital delivery and recording media in the
home promise to further de-stabilize traditional notions of
the nature of television, its audience, and its links to national
identity, as we shall see in the case of the PVR.
It is symptomatic
of the current unsettled state of the United States television
industry generally that the mid-1999 commercial launch of the
seemingly-prosaic personal video recorder, a VCR-like appliance
which records programs on a computer hard drive and downloads
program schedules overnight via an internal modem, has already
provoked apocalyptic warnings of the death of commercial television
from some TV executives. While a number of major studios and
television networks have responded to the personal video recorder
by making direct investments in the
two start-up manufacturers of the new devices, Replay Networks
Inc. and TiVo Inc., other established media firms have threatened
to sue the same manufacturers for copyright infringement. Four
large media companies -- Walt Disney, CBS, the News Corporation,
and Discovery Communications -- have, in fact, both made direct
investments and threatened to sue the PVR manufacturers.[9]
One
of the novel features of the PVR is its ability to record and
replay material at the same time, allowing viewers to record
an on-air program as they watch it, walk out of the room for
an interval, and resume viewing the recording at the point at
which they left, jumping past commercials on playback as desired.
Replay's vice-president of marketing reported that tests of
the device among consumers indicated that "after they've had
the unit a while they stop watching live TV."[10]
This new form of time-shifting is merely one sign of the ways
in which digital technology, at least in the eyes of many current
industry leaders and pundits, is eroding the experience
of simultaneity and liveness that has been traditionally seen
both as part of television's essential nature and central to
its relation to the nation. MIT's Nicholas Negroponte predicted
in 1995 that "digital life will include very little real-time
broadcast....With the possible exception of sports and elections,
technology suggests that TV and radio of the future will be
delivered asynchronously."[11] In the same
year, Microsoft CEO Bill Gates nostalgically described
the communal aspects of the traditional live national television
broadcast as instrument of national unity: "When we Americans
share national experiences, it is usually because
we're witnessing events all at the same time on television --
whether it is the Challenger blowing up after liftoff,
the Super Bowl, an inauguration, coverage of the Gulf War, or
the O. J. Simpson car chase. We are `together' at those moments."
However, Gates argued, "it is human nature to find ways to create
synchronous communications into asynchronous forms."[12] Notwithstanding such dubious appeals to human nature
or technological will in forecasting the decline
of the live nationwide broadcast, other observers have
expressed skepticism about the significance of the entire project
of television as agent of national identity, a central tenet
of the network broadcasting era. As the New York Times
briskly advised in a January 1999 editorial: "to the lament
that we are losing a sense of national community as television
grapples with its recombinant future, there is only one thing
to say: Get a life."[13] Just as the three powerful networks had economic interests
in proposing the nationwide live broadcast as television's unique
aesthetic and nation-building mission in the 1950s, specific
sectors of the media industry have their own commercial motives
in announcing the end of simultaneity in the late 1990s.
If the prospect
of digital delivery and storage of television programming has
put into crisis the long-standing privileging of the live nationwide
broadcast as guarantor of national cohesion, the digital personal
video recorder has also re-ignited debates going back to the
1950s over advertising- versus subscription-supported television.
The ease with which viewers might skip commercials recorded
via the new device has led some industry observers to offer
doomsday scenarios for commercial
television, as declining advertising revenues force networks
to bail out of bidding wars with pay television firms for the
most desirable programming. One Young & Rubicam executive
told the New York Times: "I think conventional television,
while not quite dead, is going to do a slow death here," and
the chairman of Viacom's MTV Networks told the paper: "I hate
to think about Replay and TiVo. We kind of like the world the
way it is now."[14] At the same time, the
television networks in the 1990s seem uncertain about how to
frame the perceived threat to commercially-supported
television in the ideological terms of their 1950s opposition
to pay-television proposals. For Garth Ancier, head of NBC Entertainment,
the prospect of the migration of the most popular television
programs from advertiser-supported to pay television brought
about by the ad-busting personal video recorder "is either anti-American
or totally American, depending on how you look at it."[15]
The
prospect of large numbers of TV viewers using their PVRs to
evade television commercials has also led to predictions that
advertisers and broadcasters will respond by creating advertising
formats impossible for viewers to escape, including intensive
product placement within programs, on-screen banner advertisements,
and program-length commercials.[16] A spokesperson for Replay Networks told journalists in August
1999: "We know there will be people
who want to skip commercials. The goal for us is to find other
ways for companies to deliver their messages."[17]
Robert Tercek, senior vice president of digital media for the
Columbia-TriStar Television Group at Sony Pictures, described
the programming logic of Sony's partnership with WebTV and TiVo
by invoking mail-order catalogs as program models: "There's
no reason why TV programs in this new media have to be 30 minutes
or an hour long. In fact, there are
a lot of reasons why you want to make them shorter. It costs
you a lot to keep an audience there.... J. Crew could be a show
-- it already is a show, look at the catalog. Or Abercrombie
& Fitch. Catalogs already attempt to create a narrative
drama to give their products more mystique."[18] Through such programming innovations, commercial broadcasters
and advertisers might well adapt to even the most alarmist scenarios
regarding the effects of the PVR upon television advertisers.
One feature
of the personal video recorder of enormous appeal to networks
and advertisers is its ability to continuously track users'
viewing preferences, offering sponsors and broadcasters the
long-sought ability to deliver tailored
commercials to individually-targeted consumers. General Motors,
for example, has partnered with TiVo to allow the replacement
of a GM broadcast advertisement with another commercial previously
downloaded on the household's PVR, one tailored to the consumer's
specific viewing habits and demographic profile.[19]
As one industry official told Electronic
Engineering Times: "We are beginning to see some system
operators setting aside a portion of the HDD [hard disk drive]
real estate for revenue-producing applications." As the trade
journal explained, this choice was made "rather than leaving
the entire storage space under the consumer's control."[20]
In the TiVo device, viewers are asked to make
simple "thumbs up" or "thumbs down' responses to programs titles
on the weekly program guide; the device aggregates and uplinks
these preferences for use by advertisers. Despite the rudimentary
nature of such viewer data, Jim Barton, TiVo's chief technical
officer, argued that "there's actually not that many different
types of people... . They tend to (fall into) socioeconomic
buckets."[21] Despite perceptions of current
industry upheaval at the hands of new digital technologies,
such characterizations of the television audience resonate with
decades of postwar US marketing and mass communication research.
The opposing
reception scenarios conjured up by the personal video recorder,
technologically-empowered TV viewers rebelliously zapping commercials
versus passive and unwitting consumers being sold to advertisers
in ever more perfectly-commodified form, suggest the extent
to which contemporary digital technologies
can evoke wildly differing fantasies of domestic television
viewing. In this regard, the personal video recorder represents
a case study in the long-predicted merging of television set
and computer monitor, a convergence which activates distinct
connotations of media use. As John
Markoff of the New York Times wrote of the PVR, "the
idea is to permit people to use television the way Web surfers
now use the Internet," including the construction of customized
viewer `channels' of favorite programs.[22] Business Week saw in the launch of the two competing
personal video recorders a "race to convert television from
a one-way affair into an Internet-age interactive medium," and
this persistent opposition between interactive Web user and
passive TV viewer pervades discussions of digital television.[23]
In
addition to its effects on television advertising, another source
of industry interest in the PVR concerns its potential as an
Internet access provider and tool for what Business Week
called "couch commerce."[24] As one journalist explained: "If you like the shirt being
worn by Bill Cosby on his sitcom,...
all you'll have to do to purchase it is press a button on your
remote and be linked to the site of a major retailer or manufacturer,
which already have all your measurements and credit card information."[25]
In August 1999, America Online (AOL), the largest Internet service
provider in the US with 20 million subscribers, announced it
had acquired a minority stake in TiVo; Bob Pittman, president
of AOL, said at the time that "AOL has always focused
on making the online experience a key part of our members' lives.
As consumers want to extend that interactive experience to devices
beyond the PC, we see TiVo as a great way to help us deliver
our hallmark, ease-of-use and convenience, to the television."[26]
At the same time, rivals to AOL see Internet-enabled PVR's as
a way to challenge AOL's Internet-access dominance by expanding
Internet provision beyond the computer desktop. Such a shift
involves the speculative re-definition
of the traditional television screen, its location, and the
nature of social interaction around it. An executive at the
AT&T-owned Excite@Home told the trade journal Telephony:
"We expect that a high percentage of consumers will want both
TV and PC Internet....The PC experience
in the den is typically very task-oriented, whereas the television
experience is more driven by convenience."[27]
One industry official noted that the central question about
the success of the PVR remained "how couch potatoes might respond
to potentially interactive features."[28] As the New York Times put it: "some question whether
ReplayTV and TiVo, in predicting
revolution, are misreading how viewers watch television: as
either passive lumps not sure what they want until they notice
that it is on, or as reflexive hunters for new, unanticipated
viewing alternatives."[29]
This already-familiar
rhetoric of empowerment, freedom, and interactivity has marked
much of the press coverage of the PVR, frequently explicitly
contrasting the active, in-command viewer of new interactive
TV with that fabled and disreputable figure of the previous
era of network broadcasting, the barely-sentient, lump-like
couch potato. However, at least some journalistic observers
have expressed skepticism about the
likelihood of the PVR overturning that long-established figuration
of the television audience. The PVR, according to one journalist,
"allows the couch potato to settle even deeper into the cushions,"
and an enthusiastic Newsweek PVR reviewer concluded that
"you may never get up off that couch again."[30]
While it
remains to be seen whether US consumers will demonstrate much
of an appetite for the time-shifting and interactive capabilities
of the personal video recorder, it is clear that digital delivery
and storage systems have already shaken some of the long-standing
conventional notions of television's purported essence, reception,
and social function. Moreover, the current marketing battles
over the definition of the television medium and audience have
more than merely commercial consequences; such scenarios of
media reception become powerful, if largely unexamined, tools
with which the public and policy-makers alike make sense of
a changing media environment. The real historical agency wielded
by these representations suggests that media historians have
much to learn from a consideration of such ephemeral and self-serving
material.
Footnotes
[1]Frank Stanton, Talk to Sigma Delta Chi
convention, Columbus OH, November 13, 1954, pp. 14-15. Collection
of CBS Reference Library, New York. Emphasis in original. return
[2]U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Interstate
and Foreign Commerce. Network Broadcasting, House Report
no. 1297, 85th Cong., 2nd sess. (Washington DC: Government
Printing Office, 1958), p. 194. return
[3]U.S., Congress, Senate, Committee on
Interstate and Foreign Commerce. The Network Monopoly, Report
by Senator John W. Bricker (Washington DC: Government Printing
Office, 1956), pp. 3, 5, 15. return
[4]Frank Stanton, "Statement of Frank Stanton,
President, Columbia Broadcasting System, Inc. before the Senate
Committee on Interstate and Foreign Commerce, June 12, 1956,"
p. 6. Collection of CBS Reference Library, New York. Emphasis
in original. return
[5]Ibid., p. 36. Emphasis in original. return
[6]Frank Stanton, Speech to Second General
Conference of CBS Television Affiliates, Chicago, April 13,
1956, p. 10. Collection of CBS Reference Library, New York.
return
[7]Frank Stanton, "Free vs. Pay-Television,"
pamphlet (New York: Columbia Broadcasting System, May 19, 1955),
np. return
[8]Ibid. return
[9]Bill Carter, "Aiming a little persuasion
at makers of TV recorders," New York Times, August 16,
1999, p. C5. The diverse corporate investors in Replay and TiVo
also include Sony, Philips, DirecTV, America Online, and NBC;
individual investors include Paul Allen (co-founder of Microsoft
and America's third wealthiest individual), and Netscape founder
Marc Andreesen. Emphasizing the ambiguous status of the new
storage device within the television industry was Replay's September
1999 selection of Kim LeMasters, a former chief programmer for
CBS, as the company's chairman and chief executive officer.
See Bill Carter, "Replay Network to appoint Ex-CBS programmer
as chief," New York Times, September 16, 1999, p. C8.
return
[10]Replay executive Steve Shannon, quoted
in "Here at last: A brainy VCR" Toronto Star, August
29, 1999, np. return
[11]Nicholas Negroponte, Being Digital
(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), pp. 168-69. return
[12]Bill Gates, The Road Ahead (New
York: Penguin, 1995), p. 66. Microsoft, through its WebTV subsidiary,
is developing its own version of the personal video recorder.
return
[13]"Whither television?," New York
Times, January 4, 1999, p. A18. return
[14]Bill Carter, "Will this machine change
television?," New York Times, July 5, 1999, p. C1. return
[15]Ibid. return
[16]"Taking the ads out of television,"
The Economist, May 8, 1999, np. return
[17]`"Networks buy into new personalized
TV technology," Calgary Herald, August 19, 1999, p. F5.
return
[18]Robin Berger, "The name of Tercek's
game is interactive," Electronic Media, September 13,
1999, p. 22 return
[19]"Companies consider ways to target
TV advertising," Marketing News, March 15, 1999, p. 11.
return
[20]Junko Yoshida, "Digital VCRs packing
HDDs seen as first front in war to establish non-PC home networks,"
Electronic Engineering Times, August 2, 1999, np. return
[21]Jon Healey, "New technology customizes
television program selection to viewer's tastes," San Jose
Mercury News, August 18, 1999, np. return
[22]John Markoff, "Two makers plan introductions
of digital VCR" New York Times, March 29, 1999,
p. C13. return
[23]Janet Rae-Dupree and Richard Siklos,
"Here's the next `big thing," Business Week, August 9,
1999 p. 38. return
[24]Ibid. return
[25]"Here at last: A brainy VCR," np. return
[26]`TiVo and America Online announce alliance
for AOL TV," Business Wire, August 17, 1999, np. return
[27]Kelly Carroll and Brian Quinton, "Gaining
ground on a giant," Telephony, August 23, 1999, np. return
[28]Jim Porter, president of Disk/Trend
Inc., quoted in "Digital VCRs packing HDDs," np. return
[29]"Will this machine change television?,"
p. C1. return
[30]Ernest Holsendolph, "Play it again;
or, maybe, for the first time," Atlanta Journal and Constitution,
August 22, 1999, p. 1p; N'Gai Croal, "(Re)play that funky television
show," Newsweek, May 3, 1999, p. 67. return