This is the complete, two-part commentary published today in “Phronesis in Pieces” at billschmitt.substack.com. On Substack, part two was published as part of the “Phronesis Plus” supplement behind the paywall for subscribers. Please consider subscribing to support this work.

Hear Bill talking with Matt Swaim about this piece on “The Son Rise Morning Show” on Aug. 21: Click here for the archived audio and scroll to the 1 hr 37 min mark in the program.

“All the world’s a stage” rings true today even more than it did in Shakespeare’s time. The business of America is entertainment. Our civic life is increasingly driven by narrative and performance. And our scripts are tragicomic.

Our commercialized popular culture gives the entertainment industry an outsized influence on how we think.

Act One: The Fault is Not in our Stars, But in Ourselves

Members of the industry pack their ideas into a cavalcade of engrossing products, shaping messages and media. These inseparable forces, which media scholar Marshall McLuhan analyzed decades ago, roil our politics, our economy, our psychology, and our values.

The lessons and illusions, meanings and emotions, conveyed by these forces often earn our applause for excellence. But they can also gaslight us, or spark dubious approaches to social interaction. Oscar Wilde explained the cause for concern: “Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.”

Our culture of escapism, with its positive and negative aspects, is simply the water in which we swim. The risk of poisoning does not come from responsible portrayals of principles and truths. And censorship is not the answer to any portrayals.

But we must acknowledge that some amusements unleash dangers in the public square.

Where are the viral exposures occurring? In films and in the on-demand menus of our home theaters. Plus a metaverse that serves up social media, artificial reality, video games, and porn.

Effects from our screens are now more complex and numerous than they were in 1995, when a Frontline documentary titled “Does TV Kill?” examined the contagion of violence.

“Before the average American child leaves elementary school, researchers estimate that he or she will have witnessed more than 8,000 murders on TV,” says the online summary of that report. “Has this steady diet of imaginary violence made America the world leader in real crime and violence?”

The quantum leap in “mature-content” programming since that documentary must be taking an even bigger toll today. Our entertainment ecology arguably can breed crime, cultural coarseness, oversexualization of the young, and the epidemic of mental illness and psychological impairment.

Sadly, we perpetrate that ecological hazard. Much of the destructive or numbing content is made on our smartphones and posted on platforms like Instagram and TikTok. We form our own Hollywood, making videos that betray human dignity. We traffic in brief “messages” that embarrassingly resemble vaudeville or farce.

Yet, we seem to treat all these influences as a given. We debate about other cures for crime and crazy behavior, or we normalize the problems.

During a recent two-hour “town hall meeting” presented on the Cuomo news program to address America’s growing challenge of crime, I heard only two or three brief mentions of perpetrators’ “values” as a contributor to violence.

The infusion of harmful media messages into the lives of our youth seems to be a truth we can’t handle. When a Modesto Bee editorial this month complained about convenience-store workers taking a vigilante-like stance toward a shoplifter, it quickly passed over the possible role of entertainment:

“Street justice may be popular in movies and among frustrated citizens,” the editors said, “but it has no place in a society governed by the rule of law.”

This raises the question of whether our proclivities can indeed be tamed by a respect for law, order, and civilized behavior if we catechize the population with alternative rules.

Those are based on power, greed, explosive emotions, anything-goes attitudes, carelessness about the past and future, and the manipulation of  facts. Add to the list: cruel conflict, self-centeredness, oversimplification, materialism, relativism, utilitarianism, victimhood, and quick fixes.

We need to ponder this broad catechism of entertainment because of the broad truth about humans. We are inveterate imitators, eager to learn popular ideas and copy popular experiences.

“Man is the creature who does not know what to desire, and he turns to others in order to make up his mind,” wrote René Girard (1923-2005), a social theorist who studied this search for meaning under the rubric of “mimetic desire.”

Our copy-cat instincts intensify in an environment where realities change rapidly and many are trapped in a vacuum without rock-steady principles or authoritative guidance.

We retreat to online “communities” which comfort us with confirmation bias or mindless titillation. And we rely on movies and shorter visual bursts to tell us what the in-crowd is seeing and thinking.

Our opportunities to be influenced are abundant.

Of course, messages we receive may be straightforward and beneficial—with content that informs or inspires, whatever its perspectives and politics. Many movies and programs tell great stories, whether funny or sad, romantic or shocking.

Hollywood, like life, can explore many genres of experience with excellence.

What exploration do we prefer? A recent issue of Christianity Today noted a 2022 study of young adults in Gen Z and their favorite film genres. Comedy came in first, with “action” and “horror” essentially tied for second place. Twenty years ago, “drama” was the favorite in both TV and film.

There is also a deeper, or perhaps shallower, layer we explore. Much of our entertainment obsesses about compelling images, symbols, and appearances, consumed with brief, partial attention.

The characters are often stereotypical and predictable.

Mass-market programs showcase diversity, but we seldom penetrate the complicated life of a unique character dealing with darkness and light over time (with the exception of some dramas).

Relationships are frequently turbulent and shaped by tragedies against which we harden our hearts.

Many of those portrayed are mere spectators or victims in battles of “good vs. evil.” These must be won at all costs so the world can be saved—especially if a superhero is involved.

Superheroes typically represent a person’s independent formation of a new identity, an easily understood “brand.” They are loners with powers that win them allies and enemies. Their problem-solving goes to extremes.

Alas, they don’t seek time-consuming solutions through the technicalities and nuances of the justice system or mediation. Even this moderated approach is being further radicalized as “lawfare.”

We leave the theater only to view, up-close or on the news, neighborhoods that remind us of Gotham City post-Adam West. Looking for safety, we desire to become superheroes, to “do something” for our suffering planet, or at least for our children.

Lots of parents want their kids to have superpowers and cloaks of protection, not run-of-the-mill lives handling their joys and sorrows with traditional utility belts of purpose, family, prudence, resilience, and valor.

Kids may grow up seeing vampires, video-game enemies, and the walking dead around every corner. Some assume nearly everyone is a villain until proven “normal.” Deep down, kids know they have a dark side too, but that can be covered up with a colorful costume and signals of virtue, or with a hasty retreat from the turmoil.

Narratives encouraging these thoughts tend to replace authentic (but boringly detailed) stories of simple human heroism retold by elders and friends. Pre-digested, dystopian scenarios also replace the classic movies, TV shows, and books to which kids were never exposed. There’s so much new information (and potential deformation) to consume!

We risk winding up as “poor players” in scenes of silence or fury, not as agents aspiring to better roles in a brighter future. Even political “leaders” are sometimes selected as cookie-cutter avatars who will deliver their assigned lines to preserve the scripts of a mediocre, partisan, performative machine.

We need to earn and share the spotlight, as Pope Francis instructed in his 2020 message for World Communications Day. “With the gaze of the great storyteller—the only one who has the ultimate point of view—we can then approach the other characters, our brothers and sisters, who are with us as actors in today’s story,” he said. “For no one is an extra on the world stage, and everyone is open to possible change.”

Act Two: Hope is a Lover’s Staff; Walk Hence with That

We already have painted the picture of a theater of war. A broader view will suggest happy endings. But entertainment still has more tricks up its sleeve.

Using Marshall McLuhan as a guide, we observe film as a ”hot” medium which immerses one individual at a time, leaving the impression that you have been told everything you need to know.

It also creates a mood that sticks with you. Think of Woody Allen’s The Purple Rose of Cairo, where an actor leaves the movie screen to pervade a fan’s life with mindless anticipation—and ultimate emptiness.

McLuhan saw the TV of his day as a “cool” medium, which provides fewer details and makes fewer connections, inviting the family in the living room to engage, to “fill in the blanks,” leaving space for thought and the development of empathy. But nowadays, TV 2.0 is more likely a lonesome and customized circumstance where we either browse or binge.

We easily get the feeling that reality and truth are best farmed out to a scriptwriter—not placed in the hands of The Scriptwriter.

Too much of our entertainment requires a suspension of disbelief. That’s a dangerous habit to form because it heightens our indifference and weakens our critical thinking.

A post-truth culture does not encourage consistency or coherence regarding the details of a story. That’s why we quickly shut down arguments if we don’t know the facts or if we fear contradictory facts. We want the general narrative to be sufficient, and we even allow it to get twisted and tangled as necessary.

Our originality veers away from the participation in God’s creativity which we can see in human procreation or in co-creation that builds upon and highlights the teamwork of special talents. Instead, ideas blurted from isolated minds verge on absurd excess, with the intention of being edgy or creating a buzz.

The mind frame of entertainment ideally responds to the genuine tastes of the audience, which include a hunger for beauty, wonder, insight, and relief from the world’s trivialities.

This “wow” factor makes audiences truly appreciative. In his “Letter to Artists” in 1999, Pope John Paul II said art should “give voice in a way to the universal desire for redemption.”

What can we do to cultivate this voice?

Champions for common sense must use the media at hand to edify the masses through fields like history, philosophy, theology—all the disciplines of liberal arts, humanities, and the sciences which shed light and raise questions. Rather than chastise a “dumbed-down” populace from our sheltered libraries, we need to extend a joyful interest in the pursuit of knowledge that gets us all thinking.

Of course, this is already being done in plenty of cases, as witnessed in Oppenheimer and many long-form podcasts, for example. Some of what we see and hear is positively brilliant. But we must plan, produce, and present such work more intentionally, in organized, engaging, and well-funded ways.

Hold more group-watch parties and town-hall meetings that are actually sponsored by groups and towns, not news networks.

Philanthropists, support scintillating extroverts, not secluded exhibits! Don’t surrender the work of assembling communities to pop-music stars, activists seeking power, and influencers seeking fame.

It would be great if channels like A&E, Bravo, and The History Channel returned to their original missions and used additional media to spread “premium content.”

A “PBS-2” network could celebrate civics, citizenship, religions and philosophies, and enlightening debates about domestic and international affairs—real “reality TV” without cooking or antiques.

If some programming is derided as propaganda, so be it. The public now recognizes that information/formation with a point of view is indeed the water in our think tank. Subjectivity is fine, so long as the free marketplace of ideas stays dynamic in a spirit of conversation, not cancellation. A cry for “objectivity” might only trigger more charges of misinformation and disinformation.

Let’s not reduce society to a battleground of narratives. Machine-made “talking points” disempower us; we aren’t sure how these arguments are supposed to end. Without visionary goals, there’s no progress to celebrate together.

Instead, amplify the voices of a full spectrum of people, including the marginalized. Liberate them as storytellers. Their parables, with actual beginnings and ends, will drive home points which wake us up and draw us closer.

Too much of our entertainment is about “special cases” and extraordinary conditions. Miracles happen all the time in our fiction, but they’re dismissed as magical realism. If we are our brother’s keeper, we must set our eyes on the grit of everyday life, which has its own miracles, so we can advise each other what to watch out for, and what to elevate toward.

The Catholic Church should use pews and “mass” media alike to comment with gusto at the intersection of popular culture and our fondest dreams.

Old-school diocesan newspapers carried movie reviews warning us, “You shouldn’t see this.” Now, the reasons why some entertainment content is undesirable, even unhealthy, need to be spelled out—as insight, not indoctrination: “Do you see what we’re doing to ourselves here?”

Pastors and church members should promulgate homilies and other critiques not as curmudgeons, but as resources of faith and reason. Raise awareness of media and messages which otherwise will shape us unconsciously, for good or ill.  

If we’re swimming in amusement and performance, churches can be part of an EPA for the human spirit, testing the water and reporting toxins.

Relevance has a built-in audience. Our mimetic desire to learn from others can be met by a chaos of confusion and ticket-sales statistics. Or we can share smiles and adventures we want to emulate.

We may all be actors in this world, but we should not leave it to entertainers to set the stage.

Images from ClipSafari.com, a collection of Creative Commons designs.