Editorial: Talk stopped when TV came to stay

It is a rare programme that has everybody talking about it next day. Photo / NZ Herald

Opinion

TVNZ's 50th anniversary was marked last week by recollections of early television but it could equally have commemorated a time without television.

It was a reminder that nobody under 50 years of age has known life without television and probably cannot imagine it.

Nobody under 60 has more than a dim childhood memory and only those in their 70s or older reached adulthood before coming under its spell. Notice something about that older generation?

They talk much more than younger ones do. When they meet they "make" conversation, as distinct from the minimal, matter-of-fact exchanges that come naturally.

Older people carry a mental supply of conversation-starters - polite personal inquiries, news of common acquaintances, events of interest or, if all else fails, the weather.

They often say television has killed the art of conversation but only they are old enough to know what that was. They grew up with dinners on a table at which people sat and talked. After the evening meal, called tea then, family members talked at the table for as long as they liked.

Then they would talk while the dishes were washed, laundry folded, ironing done. Someone might be reading, someone else listening to the radio. No appliance dominated a living room in those days.

Quite possibly there would be a knock on the door and the visitor would be invited in.

Family, friends or neighbours could "drop in" without warning for a cup of tea and a chat. They would not be interrupting the household's entertainment, they would be supplying it.

When television arrived in the 1960s its effect on social life was not immediately apparent.

Initially it increased social activity as the first households to buy a set invited relatives and neighbours around to watch it. And once every home had one the night's programmes became a source of conversation next day.

Early television was an extremely strong communal force. Everything from news items to the silliest comedy was a shared experience, a universal reference point for discussion and humour.

Politicians pandered to it, rugby bosses feared it and for many years would not allow games to be screened live, knowing ground attendance would suffer.

All life at night suffered: dance halls, theatre, public meetings, membership of social and service clubs and political parties, library use, evening newspapers, school homework.

All the living room furniture faced a box in one corner. At night silent families sat watching its electrons, eating meals on their laps, fetching coal during the commercials.

Then one channel became two, then three, then a proliferation. Channels delivered by satellite, financed by subscriptions, have reduced the communal experience. It is a rare programme that has everybody talking about it next day.

Subscription channels took sport and many a serious niche. Broadcasters went for general entertainment, nothing too taxing, nothing costly to produce unless public funds would pay for it.

TVNZ marked its anniversary with a mindless game show that was scorned by critics and scored on audience ratings.

TV is no longer life's main conversation-stopper. The internet, having reduced all television to a content provider, enables people in the same room to be in different worlds.

Now the net and all its interactive functions can be received on a cellphone. Nothing stops conversation like a cellphone.

We are richer in most respects for the marvels of electric transmission but something has been lost. The last generation that valued face-to-face conversation will take that fine art to its grave.