COLUMN: Sweet Dreams of Violence

From Bertie Bregman's "On Call," Fall '93 The author of the message was utterly appalled that medical students planned to engage in such crypto-violent behavior. With the epidemic of violence in the streets spilling over into the emergency room, doctors – of all people – should be sensitive to the deadly effects of glorifying guns and war, this medical student wrote. Doctors who played war games were a travesty, an embarrassment. He wouldn't trust such a doctor, and – as far as he was concerned – no one should. Luckily, I don't own a handgun. I don't believe in killing the messenger, but I would have blown that computer away. Fantasy, sweet fantasy, daydreams of violence and mayhem, games of death and destruction, dreams of adventure and narrow escapes, why do they hate you so? How they must fear the imagination to want to confine it to the holding pen of civilized behavior. What stunted, narrow view of the human spirit allows only for those thoughts pure enough to be acted out? What of the role of fantasy as a counterweight to the dreariness of our lives? If only this e-mail writer was a lonely voice whimpering in the electronic wilderness. Unfortunately, many powerful people share this view that the bridge between fantasy and behavior is too heavily travelled to allow for free and exuberant expression of the imagination in movies, music and games. On a talk show this past Thanksgiving, Senator Paul Simon debated with an executive from TV Guide about violence on television. Asked whether he favored legislation restricting violent programming, he hemmed and hawed, but finally replied that if the networks did not police themselves, the government would have to step in. Not to be outdone by Congress, the administration weighed in with Janet "Rambo" Reno, who treated the public to a pious show of concern about how television desensitizes us to the dangers of playing with matches and guns. Matches and guns. This from the woman who precipitated the Waco inferno and the fiery death of 24 children, in order to save them from reported abuse. This from the woman who then co-produced television's sleazy coverage of the firestorm. Let's limit Janet's viewing time and see if that sensitizes her to the dangers of playing recklessly with tanks, tear gas and guns. On another front, Catherine MacKinnon, a prominent feminist law professor, wants to abolish the distinction between sexual fantasy and sexual assault. In her new book, Only Words, MacKinnon argues for the criminalization of pornography. The message behind all this is clear: if we disapprove of the act, we should disapprove of the notion, right? Wrong. Some of us like to talk the talk without walkin' the walk. After hours of studying, frustrated and wired, nothing soothes the mind and recharges the spirit better than a good, ultraviolent, Jackie Chan martial-arts movie, like Supercop. After a boring day at the office, nothing feels better than an action-packed, adventure movie, full of exploding buildings and creative ways to die, like Terminator II. And if the occasional sexual exploit appears between the chase scenes, why complain? I can remember idyllic afternoons spent watching Vietnam War movies on TV. My two brothers, a neighborhood friend, and I would divide the screen into quarters. During the battle scenes, we each tallied up the dead in our quarter – one person could never do it alone – to come up with a total body count. In one Chuck Norris movie, we lost count somewhere in the hundreds. Those were the salad days. But Vietnam War movies are fine works of art, you say, what about gratuitous sex and violence? Any redeeming aspect there? I would never defend bad television or movies; I avoid them when I can. But given the choice, I'd rather see bad sex and violence than bad comedy, drama or romance any day. The former leaves you annoyed at wasting time, but the latter is painful, unwatchable. The major problem with American television today is that the sex doesn't match the high standard of the violence. Unrelenting violence without racy scenes to break it up is a drag. Ideally, the viewer should swing between emotional extremes – from a teeth-clenching, hand-gripping torture scene to a quiet, romantic moment, preferably with full frontal nudity. Should doctors be denied such sublime pleasures simply because they belong to a helping profession? Should judges and priests? Quite the opposite. Both fantasy and humor function best as a balance, an escape from a morally responsible life – the straighter the life, the raunchier the fantasy. But they never excuse unethical behavior in mature adults. The problem, of course, is that we are not all adults, we are not all mature, and precious few of us are both. I understand that. I agree that certain groups do not benefit from violent, sexy movies. Children, for one. They should be trained with violent cartoons and only gradually introduced to explicit movies. Postal workers, for another. Their life is violent and treacherous enough as it is. And gang members. If gangs started copying the movies, where would Hollywood go for fresh material? Life and art would become one boring, endlessly iterative loop. Come to think of it, the entire state of Texas should also be cut off from most popular culture. It just gives them ideas, and they are crazy enough already. But aside from these special cases, the rest of us are perfectly capable of distinguishing between illusion and reality. In fact, the ability to enjoy an exuberant, unprincipled fantasy while living an exuberant, principled life is a mark of spiritual distinction. Let me illustrate with a true anecdote. Sogyal Rinpoche, a distinguished Tibetan Buddhist teacher, a man of peace, travels the country, lecturing and leading meditation retreats. A group of students arrange for flowers in his room, comfortable sheets, and a VCR, stocked with slasher movies like Friday the 13th, and the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Rinpoche enjoys these movies. He laughs all the way through, and is no less devoted to peace and nonviolence afterward. He understands the distinction between illusion and reality – or in his case, since life is an illusion, between illusion and meta-illusion. He should be an example to us all. Bertie Bregman is a second-year Medical School student from New York, New York. On Call appeared alternate Thursdays.