Blog

I left my heart on CNN


Watching CNN interview the sister and son of Paul Johnson, the American being held hostage in Saudi Arabia, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was watching a somewhat trashy talk show.

Sure, there were no fistfights or arguments over whose boyfriend he really was. But there was something about the way that CNN orchestrated the interview that unnerved me. The “exclusive interview” aired, first of all, just after President Bush gave a speech to U.S. troops in the United States, Afghanistan, and Iraq about the virility of the United States military, about the freedom they are delivering to the rest of the world. Sure, Bush warned that he knows there will be more car bombings, more small-scale acts of violence waged by opponents of democracy and the United States. But God will bless America.

Take a commercial break and cut into a story about those opponents of democracy. And while you’re at it, throw in a crying child to move Americans, to tug at their hearts and remind ‘em that we don’t deserve this.

I’m really not trying to be callous here. Watching Johnson’s sister and son — and then grandson — was heart-wrenching, though I was moved not merely by their pain, but also by the pain of watching the interaction between the family and CNN. For all practical purposes, for the media, for the American people, this interview wasn’t about the Johnsons. Rather, it was an attempt to say, “Hey, see we’re not callous, freedom-hating folks like the terrorists. We’re freedom-promotin’ folks who just want our freedom back.”

The fact that CNN promoted the story by calling it an “exclusive interview” was, of course, a muscle-flexing exercise. That is, by default, CNN was the expert source on the hostage crisis, that the Johnsons had only agreed to speak with CNN, that the interview couldn’t easily be re-circulated by just anyone the way Al Queada circulated the images of Johnson being held hostage.

Then upon seeing Johnson’s sister and son sitting across from the CNN anchorwoman, you can’t help but notice the apparent class discrepancy. While the former are dressed very casually, the latter is dressed to the nines, never showing any sort of emotion, aside from the somber tone of voice, which seems to have been adopted for the purpose of making us feel like she cares. But let’s just say she won’t be winning an Oscar anytime in the near future.

To compensate for this, the few questions she asks are touchy emotional questions about their family — and by extension, the American family, we the people. She asks about Johnson’s dying mother. How much does she know? Does she know there’s a deadline on her son’s life?

She asks about the grandson, whom Johnson has never met and is supposed to meet this Christmas. The son, not surprisingly, starts to cry. I’m pretty sure I would, too (but then again, I don’t think I’d ever go on CNN if I was in his shoes; but that’s easier to say as an outsider). Though we don’t yet know it, the three-year-old grandson has been at the studio with his mother all along. About the time that he starts to cry, the anchorwoman says, “Hey, your son is here, why don’t you bring him out so his grandfather can see him.” Whether his grandfather can actually see his crying grandson — or son, daughter-in-law, and sister, for that matter — is questionable at best since his fate, it seems, is up to the whims of the hostage-takers. But we see the family, we see their pain, and that’s what matters.

It’s a reminder that despite the stoicism of the CNN reporters, we still have feelings, that we’re not a nation of cold hearts despite the torture that wreaked havoc in the name of freedom at Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, and lord knows where else. It’s a reminder that makes us feel a little better, a little more human, and downright American. But the fact that this spectacle, this snapshot of America, is so carefully orchestrated by CNN makes me wonder why the drama, the choreography, the muscle-flexing is necessary in the first place. Are such spectacles a means of rediscovering our hearts, or is the repetition of the carefully choreographed spectacles what ultimately numbs our hearts, leaves us feeling helpless, callous, indifferent? Maybe it’s time that these dramas make us angry rather than sad, motivating us to act, to demand change, rather than falling into a state of depression, a state of grievance and sorrow about our world.

Dear Reader, In The Fray is a nonprofit staffed by volunteers. If you liked this piece, could you please donate $10? If you want to help, you can also: