The Big Media Game Has Fewer and Fewer Players
BY ROBERT W. McCHESNEY
WHEN VIACOM ANNOUNCED ITS OFFER TO GOBBLE UP CBS for $37 billion in September, it capped off a decade of unprecedented deal-making and concentration in the media industries. The new Viacom would be one of only nine massive conglomerates--all of which took their present shape in the last fifteen years--that dominate the U.S. media landscape.
These giants--Time Warner, Disney, Rupert Murdoch's News Corp., Viacom, Sony, Seagram, AT&T/Liberty Media, Bertelsmann, and GE--to a large extent furnish your TV programs, movies, videos, radio shows, music, books, and other recreational activities.
They do a superb job of maximizing profit for their shareholders but a dreadful job of providing the basis for a healthy democracy. Their entertainment fare is tailored to the needs of Madison Avenue; their journalism to the needs of the wealthy and powerful.
By any known standard of liberal democracy, such a concentration of media power in a few self-interested firms run by some of the wealthiest people in the world poses an immediate and growing threat to our republic. As James Madison put it in 1822, "A popular government without popular information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a prologue to a farce or a tragedy, or perhaps both."
When the Viacom/CBS deal was announced, Time and Newsweek lavished attention on the personalities of Viacom's Sumner Redstone and CBS's Mel Karmazin. To the extent that there was analysis, it centered on how the deal would affect Viacom's profits and the strategies of its main competitors.
The Washington Post's "Outlook" section featured a lead story entitled, "Clap If You Love Mega-TV! Without the conglomerates, you can wave goodbye to free, high-quality shows." Written by Paul Farhi, a reporter for the Post's "Style" section, the article said: "Now is the time to root for the big guys, the conglomerates, the mega-studios."
Aside from some notable reports in The Boston Globe, Boston Herald, Chicago Tribune, and New York Times that broached the question of whether this deal might not be good for people, the issue was off-limits. And even those papers that waved at it did not follow up, so the story died.
This paucity of press coverage makes it easier for the federal government to shirk its duties. Far from regulating the media giants, the government has served as the handmaiden to these electronic robber barons.
This oligopoly would never have passed legal muster if the regulators at the Federal Communications Commission and in the antitrust division of the Justice Department were doing their jobs, or if the Telecommunications Act of 1996 were not railroaded through Congress.
The regulators have let these mergers slide, under tremendous pressure from the telecommunications and entertainment industry. And it looks as though the Viacom/CBS merger will sail through, as well. Virtually no one in government is looking out for the public's interest in the media field.
The main defense provided by the government for its laxity is that the Internet upends the rationale for regulating media mergers--or for regulating media at all. It used to be that the major media companies possessed the only access to millions of Americans. Now with the Web, the argument goes, anyone can launch a site at marginal expense and compete directly with the existing media giants. So there is no need to worry about conglomerates. Proponents of the Internet act as though it is a massive comet crashing onto the Earth that will drive media giants into extinction.
This is nonsense.
The Internet is certainly changing the nature of our media system. But after five years, it has not spawned a competitive media marketplace; the giants have too many advantages to be seriously challenged. They have the programming, the brand names, the advertisers, the promotional prowess, and the capital to rule the Internet.
MEDIA CONCENTRATION IS NOT A NEW PHENOMENON, but it has accelerated dramatically in the last decade, and it is taking a new and dangerous form.
Classically, media concentration was in the form of "horizontal integration," where a handful of firms tried to control as much production in their particular fields as possible. The U.S. film production industry, for instance, has been a tight-knit club effectively controlled by six or seven studios since the 1930s. That remains the case today: The six largest U.S. firms accounted for more than 90 percent of U.S. theater revenues in 1997. All but sixteen of Hollywood's 148 widely distributed films in 1997 were produced by these six firms, and many of those sixteen were produced by companies that had distribution deals with one of the six majors.
The newspaper industry underwent a spectacular consolidation from the 1960s to the 1980s, leaving half a dozen major chains ruling the roost. U.S. book publishing is now dominated by seven firms, the music industry by five, cable TV by six. Nearly all of these are now parts of vast media conglomerates.
That's why looking at specific media sectors fails to convey the extent or the nature of the system today, for no longer are media firms intent on horizontal integration. Today, they seek "vertical integration," not only producing content but also owning distribution. Moreover, they are major players in media sectors not traditionally thought to be related. These conglomerates own some combination of television networks, TV show production, TV stations, movie studios, cable channels, cable systems, music companies, magazines, newspapers, and book publishing firms.
This has all come about seemingly overnight. In 1983, Ben Bagdikian published The Media Monopoly (Beacon, 1984), which chronicled how some fifty media conglomerates dominated the entirety of U.S. mass media. By today's standards, that era was downright competitive.
The mega-media firms have enjoyed a staggering rate of growth in the last decade. In 1988, Disney was a $2.9 billion a year amusement park and cartoon company; in 1998, Disney had $22 billion in sales. In 1988, Time was a $4.2 billion publishing company and Warner Communications was a $3.4 billion media conglomerate; in 1998, Time Warner did $26 billion of business. In 1988, Viacom was a measly $600 million syndication and cable outfit; the new Viacom is expected to do $22 billion worth of business in the coming year.
Moreover, each of these firms averages at least one equity joint venture--sharing actual ownership of a company--with six of the eight other media giants. Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. has at least one joint venture with each of them. AT&T Liberty owns nearly 10 percent of both News Corp. and Time Warner. This looks more like a cartel than it does the fabled competitive marketplace.
For decades, U.S. laws and regulations forbade film studios from owning movie theaters, and television networks from producing their own entertainment programs, because it was understood that this sort of vertical integration would effectively prohibit newcomers from entering these production industries. Likewise, regulations forbade companies from owning more than one radio or TV station in the same market and put a strict cap on the total number of stations that could be owned by a single family. Such restrictions have been relaxed or eliminated in these deregulatory times, and, as the Viacom/CBS merger shows, producers and distribution networks are racing to link up with each other.
What these media conglomerates have learned is that the profit whole is greater than the sum of the profit parts. Viacom/CBS, for instance, will now be able to produce a movie at Paramount or a TV show at Spelling studios, air it on Showtime and CBS, advertise it on its thirty-four TV stations, as well as on the 163 Infinity Radio stations, and then sell it at Blockbuster Video--all owned by the same merged company.
Vertical integration enables a company to increase market power by cross-promoting or cross-selling a show.
If a media conglomerate has a successful motion picture, for instance, it can promote the film on its broadcast properties and then use the film to spin off television programs, CDs, books, merchandise, and much else.
"When you can make a movie for an average cost of $10 million and then cross-promote and sell it off of magazines, books, products, television shows out of your own company, the profit potential is enormous," Redstone said, even before he put his money down on CBS.
Take Time Warner. It owns leading film companies (Warner Bros., New Line Cinema, Hanna-Barbera, and Castle Rock), cable TV systems (the second largest in the United States), cable TV channels (CNN, HBO, TBS, TNT), magazines (Time, People, Sports Illustrated, Fortune), publishing companies (Little Brown and Warner Books), and music labels (Warner Bros. Records, Elektra, Atlantic, Sire, and Rhino). In the sports field, it owns the Atlanta Braves, the Atlanta Hawks, and World Championship Wrestling.
For its part, Disney has the ABC network, ten TV stations, thirty radio stations, cable programming (ESPN, the Disney Channel, A&E, E!, Lifetime), film studios (Miramax, Walt Disney Pictures, Touchstone, Hollywood), the Hyperion book company, ESPN magazine, music labels (Walt Disney Records, Mammoth, Lyric Street), and amusement parks. It also owns the Anaheim Angels and the Mighty Ducks.
Murdoch's News Corp. owns the Fox network and fifteen TV stations. It produces cable programming (Fox News, Fox Sports, Fox Family Channel). Its studios are 20th Century Fox, Fox Animation, and Searchlight. It owns The New York Post, along with hundreds of newspapers worldwide. It also owns the conservative Weekly Standard and the book company HarperCollins. Its sports teams are the Los Angeles Dodgers and the National Rugby League in Australia.
These mega-media companies have contributed to the rampant commercialization of U.S. childhood. "More and more companies are realizing," the head of the Fox Family Channel stated, "that if you develop a loyalty with the kids of today, they eventually become the adults of tomorrow." What's more, children age four to twelve are a formidable market in their own right. They spent $2.4 billion in 1997, three times the figure of a decade earlier. And no better medium exists for the delivery of the youth market than television. By age seven, the average American child is watching 1,400 hours of TV and 20,000 TV commercials per year. By age twelve, that child's preferences are stored in massive data banks by marketers of consumer goods.
In the 1990s, commercial television for children may well have been the most rapidly growing and lucrative sector of the U.S. industry, with 1998 ad revenues pegged at approximately $1 billion. Each of the four largest U.S. media giants has a full-time children's cable TV channel to capture the thirty-nine million viewers in the two-to-eleven age group. (Viacom was touted as the "perfect match" for CBS in large part because Viacom's Nickelodeon network, with its young demographic, complements CBS's stodgier audience.)
In 1998, broadcasters even began targeting one-year-olds to get a toehold on the youth market. In a moment of candor, one Time Warner children's television executive conceded that "there's something vaguely evil" about programming to kids that young. Nobody knows what the effects of this unprecedented commercial indoctrination of children will be years down the road. The only thing we know for sure is that the people responsible for it don't care.
PERHAPS NOWHERE IS THE EFFECT OF CONCENTRATED CORPORATE CONTROL on media more insidious than in journalism, democracy's lifeblood. I do not wish to romanticize the nature of U.S. journalism in the old days. It was highly flawed in key respects, and many of the current problems are only exaggerated forms of those that existed yesterday. But in today's corporate media system, journalism--and by that I mean the rigorous accounting of the powers-that-be and the powers-that-want-to-be, as well as wide-ranging coverage of our most urgent social and political issues--has nearly ceased to exist on the air and has been greatly diminished elsewhere. The reason is simple: Good journalism is bad business, and bad journalism can be very, very good for business.
The corporate assault on journalism assumes many forms. It is bad business, for example, to employ editors and reporters when a small staff can generate the same amount of material, albeit at lower quality. Since the mid-1980s, there has been a 50 percent reduction in the number of broadcast network reporters in Washington. This shifts more power to the P.R. industry and its corporate clients, which are ever eager to provide news fare to the media.
It is bad business, too, to do hard investigative work on corporations and powerful government agencies that primarily serve elite interests, like the Pentagon, the CIA, and the Federal Reserve Board. Such exposés can lead to expensive lawsuits and acrimonious relations with major advertisers, corporate brethren, and political heavyweights.
It is far better business practice to cover trivial stories about celebrities, natural disasters, train wrecks, sensational crimes, the Kennedys, and the royal family, and to limit political reporting to mindless speculation about campaign tactics and the regurgitation of mainstream politicians' soundbites. This is relatively inexpensive and rarely antagonizes anyone in power.
The corporate and commercial pressure of the 1990s has softened news standards. Welcome to the age of fluff.
For network and cable television, news has gone from being a loss-leader and a mark of network prestige to being a major producer of network profit. At present, NBC enjoys what is regarded as "the most profitable broadcast news division in the history of television," according to Electronic Media, with annual advertising revenues topping $100 million. NBC is renowned not so much for the quality of its news as for its extraordinary success in squeezing profit from it. NBC uses QNBC, a high-tech statistical service, to analyze its news reports to see exactly how its desired target audience is reacting to different news stories, and to the ads.
The owners of the networks are increasingly hostile to airing reports that may call into question some of their other activities. And, given the reach of those activities, there may be a lot of uncovered territory in the years to come.
In 1998, Disney-owned ABC News killed a 20/20 segment by Brian Ross, its leading investigative reporter, about Disney World in Florida. Ross was prepared to air charges that Disney was so lax in doing background checks on employees that it had hired pedophiles. Although ABC News claimed the cancellation was due to factors other than pressure from above, the stench of conflict-of-interest could not help but fill the air.
The same censorship mentality spills over into programming. This May, NBC heavily advertised a two-part mini-series called Atomic Train, which was originally about a runaway train carrying nuclear waste. But just days before broadcast, NBC started to pull the ads for the program and dubbed out all references to nuclear waste, choosing the more generic "hazardous material." Not incidentally, General Electric, which owns NBC, is a major nuclear energy producer.
In 1996, the news story that NBC gave the most air time to was the Summer Olympics in Atlanta, an event that did not even rank among the top ten stories covered by CBS, ABC, or CNN. What explains NBC's devotion to this story? It owned the television rights to the Olympics and used its nightly news to pump up the ratings for its prime-time coverage.
NBC is not alone here. "Various shows on ABC, now owned by Disney, have devoted a great deal of time to several movies produced by Disney, although the network has maintained in each instance that there was justified journalistic interest in the films," an article in The New York Times noted on July 10, 1998.
Don't expect the new Viacom to be any better. At MTV, it was policy under Redstone to provide editorial coverage--and ample promotional tie-ins--only to those film studios that purchased large amounts of advertising on MTV. The music station even required the studios to pay the production costs for the special shows on MTV about their movies.
The commercial media are increasingly cozy with other wealthy corporations, as well. A News Corp. station in Florida in 1997, for instance, fired two of its on-air reporters, Jane Akre and Steve Wilson, for refusing to water down their investigative story on Monsanto's bovine growth hormone.
And CBS News last year rebuked Roberta Baskin, one of its 48 Hours correspondents, who was responsible for an acclaimed 1996 exposé of Nike's labor practices in Vietnam. What was her apparent crime? She had protested too loudly when CBS on-camera correspondents wore the Nike logo and Nike gear during the CBS telecasts of the 1998 Winter Olympics, for which Nike was a major sponsor. Baskin said this undermined the network's credibility and detracted from her original story. She also charged that CBS refused to rebroadcast that story for fear of offending Nike, which CBS denied. But the network confirmed that it refused to let Baskin respond to criticisms of her story in The Wall Street Journal. And Baskin says CBS would not permit her to do a follow-up story, even though she had uncovered an internal Nike report substantiating her original charges.
In sum, concentrated corporate control of the media has produced a broadcast journalism that is great at generating profit, pleasing advertisers, and protecting powerful institutions from scrutiny, but lousy at what it's supposed to do: informing the citizenry and confronting abusers of power.
If we are serious about democracy, we need decent journalism. And to get decent journalism, we need to make fundamental reforms in our media system.
EVEN AMONG THOSE WHO DEPLORE CONGLOMERATION, hypercommercialism, and the decline of public interest journalism, there is a fatalistic sense that this is the way it must be. But the U.S. media system is the result of a series of political decisions, not natural law or holy mandate. The U.S. government and the citizens of the United States did not--and do not--have to turn over the broadcast spectrum to nine mega-corporations interested only in maximizing profit.
At any time in the last century, the American people might have chosen to establish a truly nonprofit and noncommercial radio and television system; they have always had the constitutional right to do so. The first major law for U.S. broadcasting was the Communications Act of 1934; the second was the Telecommunications Act of 1996. In 1934, there was considerable opposition to corporate domination of radio broadcasting, but those who led the opposition had barely any influence in Washington. In 1996, there was nowhere near the organized opposition that existed in 1934, and the communications lobbies pushed the law through at breakneck speed.
The striking feature of U.S. media policy-making is how singularly undemocratic it has been--and remains. Crucial decisions are made by the few for the few behind closed doors. Public participation has been minuscule.
That has got to change. We, as citizens, need to let our voices be heard. The airwaves belong to the people. We should demand a democratic media, not one that is controlled by Time Warner, Rupert Murdoch, Disney, GE, and Viacom/CBS.
I'd like to offer four general proposals for media reform. They are by no means blueprints; they are meant only to get the discussion going.
1. Shore up nonprofit and noncommercial radio
The starting point for media reform is to shore up a viable nonprofit, noncommercial media sector. Such a sector currently exists in the United States and produces much of value, but it's woefully small and underfunded. This sector is unbeholden to corporations, and its views are undistorted by the profit motive. It thus has the inclination to air stories that run counter to the interests of the huge corporations; it publishes viewpoints on national issues that get short-shrift elsewhere, and it engages in the kind of public-spirited debates that we need more of in our democracy.
Foundations and organized labor could and should contribute far more to nonprofit media. And government itself should foster this sector. It could extend lower mailing costs for a wide range of nonprofit publications. Or it could permit tax deductions for contributions to nonprofit media.
To leave the nonprofit, noncommercial sector to starve as the commercial sector gets fatter and fatter makes no sense at all.
2. Strengthen public broadcasting
Public broadcasting today is really a system of nonprofit commercial broadcasting, serving a sliver of the population. What we need is a system of real public broadcasting, with no advertising, one that accepts no grants from corporations or private bodies, one that serves the entire population, not merely those who have high-brow tastes and disposable income to contribute during pledge drives.
A new system should include more national networks, local stations, fully utilized and subsidized public access television, and independent community radio stations. Every community should also have a stratum of low-power television and micropower radio stations.
Where will the funds come from to pay for such a service? At present, the federal government provides $260 million annually. The public system I envision--which would put per capita U.S. spending in a league with Britain's and Japan's--may well cost $5 billion to $10 billion annually. I have no qualms about drawing the funds from general revenues. A system of genuinely nonprofit, noncommercial, and public broadcasting is essential if we are to be not just consumers but citizens, too.
3. Toughen regulation
Media reformers have long been active in this arena, if only because the public ownership of the airwaves gives the Federal Communications Commission a clear legal right to negotiate terms with the chosen few who get broadcast licenses. Still, broadcast regulation has largely been toothless, with the desires of powerful corporations and advertisers rarely challenged.
In my view, commercial broadcasters should be granted licenses only on the following terms: First, they will not air any paid political advertising during electoral campaigns unless every candidate on the ballot is given equal time, free of charge, immediately following the paid spot of a rival. This would go a long way toward clearing up the campaign spending mess that is destroying electoral democracy in the United States.
Second, we should follow the lead of Sweden and ban advertising to children under twelve. Likewise, we should remove advertising from TV news broadcasts. ??Third, broadcasters should donate some percentage of their revenues to subsidize several hours per day of noncommercial children's and news/public affairs programming. Educators and artists should control the children's programming; journalists the news programming.
If ever there was a need for antitrust laws, that need is painfully clear in the area of media conglomerates. Not only do the media giants make a mockery of free competition; they impede the very functioning of democracy. Antitrust laws were put on the books at the turn of the last century to counteract the power of a few huge companies over both our economic and our political system. We should recall those concerns today as we wrestle with the media behemoths.
What is needed is a new media antitrust statute, similar in tone to the Clayton and Sherman Acts, that lays out the general values to be enforced by the Justice Department and the Federal Trade Commission. It would put an emphasis on valuing the importance of ideological diversity and noncommercial content. The objective should be to break up the media conglomerates and smash their vertical integration so that their book publishing, magazine publishing, TV show production, movie production, TV stations, TV networks, cable TV channels, cable TV systems, retail store chains, amusement parks, and so on, all become independent firms. With reduced barriers to entry in these specific markets, new firms could more easily join in, and something resembling fair competition could ensue.
The aim of these combined measures is to produce a media system that is fair and accurate, that scrupulously examines the activities of the powerful, that provides a legitimate accounting of the diverse views and interests of society. It would provide a culture based on artists' interactions with people and ideas, not on the orders from Madison Avenue. The only bias is a fervent commitment to democracy.
There is no reason why we must have a system that gives the wealthy and powerful high-quality information so they may rule the world while the rest of the population is fed a diet of schlock.
THE ONLY WAY TO GAIN SOME POPULAR CONTROL over the communications field is to mobilize a popular movement for it. As the agitator Saul Alinksy noted, to beat organized money, you need organized people. The issue of media reform can attract the enthusiastic support of many citizens who have not been previously active. There's a general disgust with the media and entertainment industry, and there's a wellspring of populist resentment toward media giants.
While the fight for a democratic
It won't be easy. On the media front, the giants are unusually canny, and they have the means at their disposal to get their own views across.
Unless we marshal the forces on our side, we will have no choice but to sit back and watch more mergers like Viacom/CBS--and to hear how good they are for us.
For more info on Robert W. McChesney's new book Rich Media, Poor Democracy, go to www.press.uillinois.edu)
Robert W. McChesney is an associate professor at the Institute of Communications Research and at the Graduate School of Library and Information Science at the University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign. He is the author, most recently, of "Rich Media, Poor Democracy: Communication Politics in Dubious Times" (University of Illinois).
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