Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts

Apr 12, 2010

Russia is said to have fueled unrest in Kyrgyzstan

Bishkek - KyrgyzstanImage by zsoolt via Flickr

By Philip P. Pan
Monday, April 12, 2010; A01

BISHKEK, KYRGYZSTAN -- Less than a month before the violent protests that toppled the government of Kyrgyzstan last week, Russian television stations broadcast scathing reports portraying President Kurmanbek Bakiyev as a repugnant dictator whose family was stealing billions of dollars from this impoverished nation.

The media campaign, along with punishing economic measures adopted by the Kremlin, played a critical role in fanning public anger against Bakiyev and bringing people into the streets for the demonstrations that forced him to flee the capital Wednesday, according to protest leaders, local journalists and analysts.

"Even without Russia, this would have happened sooner or later, but . . . I think the Russian factor was decisive," said Omurbek Tekebayev, a former opposition leader who is now the No. 2 figure in the government.

Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin has denied that Moscow played any role in the uprising, and leaders of the movement to oust Bakiyev insist they received only moral support. But the Kremlin had made no secret of its growing displeasure with Bakiyev, and over the past few months it steadily ratcheted up the pressure on his government while reaching out to the opposition.

The strategy was a sharp departure from Russia's traditional support for autocratic leaders in its neighborhood. It paid off quickly and dramatically, and it appears to have delivered the Kremlin a rare foreign policy victory.

Not only has Moscow served notice on other wayward autocrats in its back yard -- many of whom also govern Russian-speaking populations that watch Russian television -- it also appears to have gained a greater say over the future of the U.S. air base here, which is critical to supplying the NATO military surge in Afghanistan.

Little more than a year ago, the Kremlin regarded Bakiyev as an ally, promising him more than $2 billion in aid during a visit to Moscow at the height of the global economic crisis.

On the same trip, Bakiyev announced plans to close the U.S. air base, in what was widely seen as an exchange.

Four months later, after Russia had made good on $415 million of its pledge, Bakiyev suddenly agreed to keep the air base open when Washington offered more than three times the original rent. Russian officials, including President Dmitry Medvedev, indicated at the time that they had blessed the decision, but it soon became clear that the Kremlin had been cheated -- and was furious.

"The Russians were upset and angry, not just because of the base but because of his attitude," Tekebayav said.

In November, Russian media reported that Putin upbraided the Kyrgyz prime minister at a summit, asking why the U.S. air base had not been closed and alleging that the Russian aid money had been stolen by Bakiyev's family. In February, Moscow postponed payment of the remaining $1.7 billion of the package, with officials saying publicly that the first tranche had been misused.

In late March, two weeks before the April 7 protests, Russia's Kremlin-friendly television stations and newspapers marked the fifth anniversary of Bakiyev's rise to power in the putsch known as the Tulip Revolution with unusually tough stories about his rule. One paper compared him to Genghis Khan, and Russia's top television station hammered him with multiple reports alleging corruption.

Much of the coverage focused on Bakiyev's son, Maksim, whom he appointed to lead an economic development agency and who had become a lightning rod for opposition charges of nepotism and embezzlement.

In addition to the reversal on the U.S. base, analysts said, the Kremlin turned against Bakiyev because he tried to bring China into a Russian deal to build a hydroelectric dam and to extract rent from Moscow for a Russian air base in Kyrgyzstan. Russian leaders were also upset that Bakiyev's family was buying gasoline from Russia at special prices and selling it to the air base, a scheme worth as much as $80 million per year, Russian media reported.

Alexander Knyazev, a political analyst here with ties to a Moscow think tank, said people began to worry that the Kremlim might expel the estimated 1 million Kyrgyz migrants who work in Russia and send money home to their families. The remittances account for as much as a third of the Kyrgyz economy and at least half of the government's budget, he said.

"Bakiyev was spoiling the relationship, and people saw it," he said. "That's how this protest mood got started."

After the opposition announced plans for nationwide protests, Putin provided a final spark by signing a decree March 29 eliminating subsidies on gasoline exports to Kyrgyzstan and other former Soviet republics that had not joined a new customs union.

When the tariffs kicked in April 1, Russian fuel shipments to Kyrgyzstan were suspended, said Bazarbai Mambetov, president of a Kyrgyz oil traders association. Within days, gas prices in Bishkek began to climb, enraging residents already angry about sharp increases in utility fees.

As the Kremlin leaned on Bakiyev, it also consulted the opposition, hosting its leaders on visits to Moscow, including in the days before the protests. On the eve of the demonstrations, the Kyrgyz prime minister accused one, Temir Sariev, of telling police that he had met with Putin and had won his support for efforts to overthrow Bakiyev.

Sariev, now the interim finance minister, said he never met Putin or told police any such thing. "But I did meet privately with friends," he acknowledged with a smile. "We did discuss the situation in Kyrgyzstan."

Tekebayev, second in command of the interim administration, said Russia's actions were important because they signaled to government officials that Bakiyev could not stay in office, undermining his support in key ministries and regions when the opposition seized control.

"The Russians used to work only with those in power in the former Soviet Union," he added. "But in the last year, they started developing relations with the opposition, like the Americans and Europeans. I think, for the first time, this approach was a success for them."

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Apr 6, 2010

FOXNews.com - Five Ways to Get More Out of Internet TV

TV or PC? That's the question I find myself asking these days when I'm in the mood to watch the tube. There are still plenty of reasons to opt for the HDTV in my living room: It's got the biggest and best picture, the most theater-like audio, and -- overall -- the best selection of stuff to watch. But so many popular programs are now available online that I'm just as likely to catch them on my PC.

TV on a TV may still be the most immersive experience, but TV on a PC feels far more personal. For one thing, most of it is available on demand, on your own schedule. For another, there's an ever-expanding universe of sites, services, and software designed to make it a cinch to find both shows you know you love and ones you haven't discovered yet, and then watch them your way. Such as these five winners, all of which work on both Windows PCs and Macs and are absolutely free.

Explore a site that's half TV Guide, half TiVo. You've got favorite TV shows, old and new. And Clicker is an extremely slick way to find everything from Lost to The Dick Van Dyke Show. It covers both free sources (such as Hulu and the sites of the major networks) and paid ones (like Amazon and Netflix), and lets you search by title or performer, or browse by category. You can add entire series to playlists and get notifications by e-mail when new episodes are available, making the service a sort of virtual DVR that helps you keep on top of your faves and play catch-up when necessary.

Make any computer a media center. Boxee is a hot piece of software that lets you browse and enjoy a bevy of digital content, including paid and free video on the Web, files on your computer or home network, music, photos, and more. It's meant to appeal to folks who have connected their computers to their TV sets: You can breeze through the whole user interface with a remote control, and everything's got a sheen that looks great in high definition. But it's fun to use even if just to watch TV on your laptop or desktop monitor.

Try a better Netflix. Netflix may still be synonymous with DVDs by snail mail in little red envelopes, but its Watch Instantly feature -- which gives every Netflix subscriber unlimited on-demand access to a profusion of movies and TV shows -- is one of the best ways to spend a few bucks a month on Internet content. Oddly enough, though, finding stuff to watch is surprisingly frustrating: when you search on the Netflix site, the Watch Instantly titles are often overwhelmed by the ones that are still only available on DVD.

Enter Instantwatcher.com, an ingenious, ingeniously simple site that does one thing: help you locate items you can Watch Instantly. It shows only films and episodes available for instant viewing, and it tells you what's popular right now. Find something that catches your fancy, and one click loads it up in Netflix's player.

Capture, convert, and move streaming video. Most free TV on the Web streams to your PC, which works just fine for one-time viewing on a broadband-connected computer. But you've got to be online to watch it, and can't save items for offline viewing or move them to gadgets such as your cell phone, media player, or game console.

RealNetworks' RealPlayer SP is a clever application that changes that. Install it, and you can download and save video all over the Web, then convert it and transfer it to your other devices. Other services and software offer similar features, but I don't know of any that make the job as easy as RealPlayer. The downside? It doesn't work with copy-protected content, such as most of the shows that big-name entertainment companies make available on the Web. That still leaves a wealth of stuff to watch, including most of YouTube.

"Google" your cable or satellite box. Did I say this column was about how to get more out of Internet TV? I fibbed a little. LocateTV is a search engine that lets you track down programming that's available via your cable and satellite subscription, complete with episode guides, reminders, and other features that are reminiscent of Clicker. Tell it your zip code and provider, and it'll restrict its results to shows available locally, and will give you the channel numbers you need to tap on your remote.

LocateTV is a vastly more efficient way to navigate through thousands of hours of programming on hundreds of channels than scrolling through a never-ending programming grid on your TV. It's pretty cool when you think about it: The Internet is so powerful a force that it can make TV better even when you aren't watching TV on the Internet.

Harry McCracken blogs at Technologizer, his site about personal technology. He's also the former editor in chief of PC World. Follow him on Twitter as @harrymccracken.

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Mar 13, 2010

Revenge of the Cable Guys

Comcast CorporationImage via Wikipedia

March 11, 2010, 5:00PM EST

If you think online TV will be free forever, think again. The cable companies have a plan to keep control—and stick you with the bill

Once upon a time, not so long ago, a bunch of small companies in Silicon Valley thought the future of television was theirs. Soon, the thinking went, TV would be everywhere. Frequent fliers would tune in on laptops and vacationers on tablets from the beach. If so inclined, you'd be able to watch Glee on a cell phone in a tree house. The network suits and the cable guys just didn't have the digital chops to make it happen. Fueled with venture money, tech companies with names like Boxee, Roku, and Sezmi pursued their dream of untethering viewers from their TV sets—and owning a piece of the advertising revenue.

As the big picture comes into focus though, it looks like the cable guys are playing the lead roles, using the $32 billion they pay content providers each year as leverage. The alphabet soup of newbies is still waiting in the wings for a moment that might never come.

What happened? Part of the answer is TV Everywhere, a service in its infancy, conjured up in quiet strategy sessions by Jeff Bewkes and Brian Roberts, the CEOs of Time Warner (TWX) and Comcast (CMCSA). They took a lesson from the music labels, which looked up one day to find that Steve Jobs and Apple (AAPL) had taken control of their inventory. The cable guys came up with a quick fix, one so technologically simple that you don't have to be a geek to get it: Viewers can watch shows for free, but only if they're cable subscribers first. In other words, as long as you tap a subscription code into your device—any device—you can watch anything you want, whenever you want.

It's worth hitting pause here for a moment. Right now, Time Warner is offering the service in only a few markets. Comcast has rolled out a trial, or beta, version to about 80% of its subscribers. There are plenty of kinks to be sorted out. And as usual when it comes to show business, nothing is quite as simple as it appears. For TV Everywhere to work, the behemoths of the business must stand together and stamp out the rampaging weed called free. After all, if you can get programing for free—real free—why would you ever pay a cable bill?

SELF-PRESERVATION

That's what was worrying Time Warner's Bewkes in the fall of 2008. Back then, Time Warner ran the country's second-largest cable operator (spun off in March 2009) and was also a content provider. Bewkes had previously been in charge of the company's HBO unit, turning the premium cable channel into a profit machine with 30 million subscribers.

Bewkes watched with growing alarm as Hollywood stampeded online to offer TV shows and movies for free, say two Time Warner executives. At the time, Hulu, a video site operated by Fox (NWS), NBC Universal, and Disney, (DIS) was about a year old. For TV addicts, Hulu was a near miracle. Miss the latest episode of Damages on the FX channel? If so, you could watch Glenn Close play a conniving lawyer on Hulu 24 hours later for free. Hulu's owners shared the advertising revenue from the site, but everyone knew it wasn't making money and there was no clear path to profitability. As he watched one entertainment company after another put their TV shows and movies online for free, say the executives, Bewkes began to fear that the pay TV industry would eventually find itself in the same untenable position as newspapers.

That's when the scene shifts to Wisconsin, where HBO was running an experiment in Milwaukee and Green Bay. HBO was letting people watch its programing online as long as they could prove they were HBO subscribers. The results of the test were unexpected: Viewers who tuned into Big Love on their laptops didn't spend any less time watching HBO on their TV sets. Bewkes was buoyed by the possibility that the same model might work more widely and that his cable properties might be able to keep subscribers from gravitating elsewhere, says a Time Warner executive involved in the discussions. Bewkes told his team: "We can't just talk about it, or play the victim. We need to build a model," the executive recalls. The Time Warner CEO was unavailable for comment.

It wasn't the first time the cable industry had found itself in danger of being outflanked by tech-savvy rivals. In 1999, TiVo began selling a handy little box that allowed people to record dozens of hours of TV shows on a hard drive. After a certain amount of handwringing, the cable guys struck back with overwhelming force. They figured out the technology and marketed their own digital video recorders, for which they charged subscribers an extra $10 or so a month. Next came Apple. Along with Amazon.com (AMZN) and others, Steve Jobs began renting TV shows online. The cable companies beat back that onslaught by beefing up their video-on-demand offerings and giving subscribers a bunch of free shows with a few clicks of the remote. "The cable industry has been very good at not jumping too early on a technology, and watching it play out first," says Colin Gounden of Grail Research, which advises companies on new products. "They have a knack for getting the timing right."

The new attack from Silicon Valley was the most serious yet, because it threatened to permanently cut the coaxial connecting the cable companies and their subscribers. "We wake up every day and there is some new competitor out there—a Roku or a Boxee," says Melinda Witmer, Time Warner Cable's programming chief. "People like to think of cable operators as monopolists, but we face a lot of competition just to keep the business we have." Technically there was nothing too complicated about Bewkes' plan to expand the Milwaukee experiment.

The new service would need a way to automatically confirm that people were paid-up subscribers. Other than that, TV Everywhere, as Bewkes called it, would mostly use existing online infrastructure and established user interfaces.

"FRIEND, NOT A FOE"

Far more daunting was the prospect of persuading the rest of the industry to join up. Unless most of the pay TV and content players banded together, TV Everywhere wouldn't work; viewers could simply flock to sites that didn't require a cable subscription. Bewkes, say two Time Warner executives, decided to float his proposal with Roberts, the chief of Comcast, the largest cable system in the U.S., with 24 million subscribers. In early 2009, Bewkes began wooing Roberts, traveling from his New York City office on Columbus Circle to Comcast's imposing 57-story headquarters in Philadelphia.

Roberts long ago realized that online video was important to the future of his company. In 2006, Comcast had created an interactive media unit that poached heavily from Silicon Valley. The company's first major development project was Fancast, a video site like Hulu that offered hundreds of shows free to all comers. Roberts, who declined to be interviewed for this story, had unveiled Fancast at the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas in early 2008. Before long, says one Comcast executive, he began thinking about a service that would offer much more content—but only to Comcast subscribers. When Bewkes came calling he didn't have to convince Roberts of the importance of preserving the subscription model online. And like most everybody in the cable industry, Roberts was aware of HBO's online experiment in Wisconsin.

Roberts and Bewkes initially disagreed on one big point, say two Time Warner executives who say they can't speak on the record because the discussions were sensitive. Roberts believed subscribers should be required to go to a central site operated by their pay TV provider in order to view cable shows. Bewkes, true to his divided soul as a content creator and distributor, felt users should be allowed to tap into any cable channel's Web site as long as it was part of the TV Everywhere ecosystem. Bewkes, say the executives, reasoned that letting individual channels keep their own sites would allow them to maintain their brands. Eventually, Roberts agreed.

WINING AND DINING

The Time Warner executives say Roberts and Bewkes saw the cable industry's annual convention, held last April in Washington, D.C., as an opportunity to proselytize about TV Everywhere to the rest of the industry. During one panel discussion, Roberts told his audience that online video was "a friend, not a foe" and that for Hollywood it represented a new way to make money "in this horrific advertising environment."

In Hollywood, studios and cable channels were hearing a very different message from the Silicon Valley upstarts who wanted to cut deals for their programing. Netflix's (NFLX) Ted Sarandos pushed studio executives to give his company the latest movies for its online video service. Steve Jobs proposed launching a stripped-down cable service that would cost consumers $30 a month. Boxee founder Avner Ronen says he traveled to Los Angeles from his base in New York so many times that his "plane knew the way."

Phil Wiser, founder of Sezmi, an online TV subscription service, says his goal was simple: to "replace cable and satellite." He flew executives from NBC Universal, Sony (SNE), the Discovery Channel, and others to Sezmi's offices in a converted horse barn in Northern California, where he wined, dined, and pitched them. Sezmi wanted the content creators to allow him to use their movies and TV shows for an à la carte service that would give customers the freedom to pay for only what they wanted to watch. The studios declined, so he decided to borrow the industry's subscription model. Owners of Sezmi's $299 set-top box would receive network and cable shows for $19.99 a month, about a third the cost of a typical cable subscription.

Wiser told the studios that he would match what cable was paying for episodes of such shows such as The Real World, Top Chef, and Damages. It was an unprecedented offer for a startup, but only one company initially agreed to make its content available: NBC Universal, which is already available on Hulu. Wiser says it took another 18 months to lure more content providers, including Turner Broadcasting (TWX) (owned by Time Warner) and Discovery Networks. What's more, Wiser acknowledges he had to pay the content guys more than they get from the big cable companies. When Sezmi boxes went on sale in Los Angeles in February, the service was missing ESPN, The History Channel, The Food Network, HBO, and other popular channels. "Trying to do this is not for the faint of heart," says Wiser, a former Sony (SNE) executive. "These firms see dozens of new pitches every week, so they're skeptical."

Skeptical—and satisfied. The makers of movies and TV shows are attached to the billions they receive from cable companies and are understandably reluctant to engage in grand experiments with upstarts touting unproven business models. Joshua Sapan runs Rainbow Media Holdings (CVC), which controls AMC, IFC, the Sundance channel, and others. He says tech companies have approached him about licensing AMC shows, but, he asks: "Why would I license my channel to someone and give them Mad Men the day after it shows up on AMC?"

Back at Time Warner Center in New York and One Comcast Center in Philadelphia, the cable operators began to realize they had the studios locked down. As Frank Biondi, former president of the media giant Viacom (VIA), puts it: "Why would [the studios] make a deal with a competitor to their largest customer and risk angering them?"

In summer 2009, Bewkes and Roberts joined forces to take the TV Everywhere model out for a spin with 5,000 Comcast subscribers across the country. Those viewers were able to tap into programing provided by cable channels TNT and TBS, both owned by Time Warner. The speed with which the industry moved on from that trial balloon is a measure of just how important locking in subscriber revenue is to cable's future. In December, Comcast rolled out a beta version of the new service, now christened Fancast XFinity TV. Time Warner Cable has a trial going with nearly 10,000 customers in Syracuse, N.Y., New York City, and Columbus, Ohio. Verizon Communications (VZ) is testing a service nationally, and DirecTV, the satellite operator, plans to as well.

Comcast's service is the furthest along and provides a window on where TV Everywhere is headed. Only subscribers who pay for digital cable—and take Comcast's broadband service—are eligible. (The company is still working out how to bring XFinity TV to the third of its subscribers who get broadband from other companies.) Subscribers can tune into two dozen channels, from CBS to Animal Planet, and view 19,000 full-length TV shows and movies. They can use it on as many as three PCs and get most episodes 24 hours after they first air on TV. Much of that was available on Comcast's free site, but now shows on HBO and the Discovery channel have been added to the lineup. Eventually, Comcast aims to let subscribers access XFinity on their smartphones and tablets.

TV Everywhere has a ways to go before the cable guys can declare victory. There's a ton of stuff to figure out—how the ad model will work, devising a new ratings system with Nielsen. And then there's the question of profits. The cable guys like them, and they're not real comfortable with free. So chances are, down the line, the costs of the new free will probably sneak onto subscribers cable bills. And you know what? We'll all keep paying.

Grover covers the media and entertainment industry for Bloomberg Businessweek in Los Angeles. Lowry is a senior writer for BusinessWeek in New York. Edwards is a correspondent in Bloomberg BusinessWeek's San Francisco bureau.

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Dec 4, 2009

Rangoon shops lose customers due to license order

YANGON, BURMA - MAY 10:  Burmese children wait...Image by Getty Images via Daylife

by Mizzima News
Friday, 04 December 2009 19:51

New Delhi (Mizzima) - Teashops, restaurants and beauty parlours in Rangoon have started removing television sets from their shops as the Video Association has ordered that those using TV in the shops would have to have a license by paying 45,000 Kyat (US$ 45).

According to several shop owners, the new rule was circulated by the Video Association ordering teashops, restaurants and beauty parlours that use television or videos to attract customers, to apply for license within a week.

“Normally we use TV or video in our shop, and our family also watches. But since last month we were given a notice asking us to apply for a license. Since we are not using it for commercial purposes, we shifted our TV in to our house from the shop,” a teashop owner in Latha Township of Rangoon told Mizzima.

Similarly, a teashop owner in Insein Township said, most shops on the street have removed their TV sets as they do not want to apply for a license.

“We do not want to pay for the license, so we removed our TV from the shop,” he added.

In Burma, where people often spend their leisure time in teashops and restaurants, many shop owners have a TV set to lure them in and entertain their customers with movies and TV programmes.

Besides, with most people unable to afford a TV set, customers often visit teashops in order to watch TV programmes including international football matches.

Video license is normally applicable for commercial video parlours. But the new order since the beginning of August requires teashops, restaurants and beauty parlours to apply for license.

The order, read out to Mizzima by a shop owner over telephone, states that owners in three categories of shops should apply for video license within a week, and in case of failing to obtain it, the shop owners could be charged under the Television and Video Act resulting in a three year prison term or a fine of Kyat 100,000 (US$ 1000) or both.

A teashop owner in Tharmwe Township said since he removed his TV set from the shop, he had lost customers and business has been plummeting.

“Earlier, we use to attract customers by showing videos or TV programmes. But after the order, since we have not been making good profit, I do not want to spend money on the license. But since then sales have dropped with fewer customers,” the shop owner added.

While most shops do not want to apply for the license and have removed their TV sets, a few, however, have applied for a license.

A teashop owner in Bahan Township told Mizzima that she had applied for the license by paying 45,000 Kyat.

“I did it as they ordered it,” she added.

While licenses for TV, Satellites TV and radio have to be applied for at the Post and Telecommunication Ministry, video screening license applications are made at the Myanmar Movies Association office in Bahan Township.

The video association, a department under the Myanmar Movie Association, has its branch offices in all the 44 townships of Rangoon.


Editing by Ye Yint Aung
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Nov 2, 2009

Charles Kenny on why TV, not Facebook or Twitter, is going to revolutionize the world - Foreign Policy

It's not Twitter or Facebook that's reinventing the planet. Eighty years after the first commercial broadcast crackled to life, television still rules our world. And let's hear it for the growing legions of couch potatoes: All those soap operas might be the ticket to a better future after all.

BY CHARLES KENNY | NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2009

"The television," science-fiction writer Ray Bradbury lamented in 1953, is "that insidious beast, that Medusa which freezes a billion people to stone every night, staring fixedly, that Siren which called and sang and promised so much and gave, after all, so little." Bradbury wasn't alone in his angst: Television has been as reviled as it has been welcomed since the first broadcasts began in 1928. Critics of television, from disgusted defenders of the politically correct to outraged conservative culture warriors, blame it for poor health, ignorance, and moral decline, among other assorted ills. Some go further: According to a recent fatwa in India, television is "nearly impossible to use … without a sin." Last year, a top Saudi cleric declared it permissible to kill the executives of television stations for spreading sedition and immorality.

So will the rapid, planetwide proliferation of television sets and digital and satellite channels, to corners of the world where the Internet is yet unheard of, be the cause of global decay such critics fear? Hardly. A world of couch potatoes in front of digital sets will have its downsides -- fewer bowling clubs, more Wii bowling. It may or may not be a world of greater obesity, depending on whom you ask. But it could also be a world more equal for women, healthier, better governed, more united in response to global tragedy, and more likely to vote for local versions of American Idol than shoot at people.

Indeed, television, that 1920s technology so many of us take for granted, is still coming to tens of millions with a transformative power -- for the good -- that the world is only now coming to understand. The potential scope of this transformation is enormous: By 2007, there was more than one television set for every four people on the planet, and 1.1 billion households had one. Another 150 million-plus households will be tuned in by 2013.

In our collective enthusiasm for whiz-bang new social-networking tools like Twitter and Facebook, the implications of this next television age -- from lower birthrates among poor women to decreased corruption to higher school enrollment rates -- have largely gone overlooked despite their much more sweeping impact. And it's not earnest educational programming that's reshaping the world on all those TV sets. The programs that so many dismiss as junk -- from song-and-dance shows to Desperate Housewives -- are being eagerly consumed by poor people everywhere who are just now getting access to television for the first time. That's a powerful force for spreading glitz and drama -- but also social change.

Television, it turns out, is the kudzu of consumer durables. It spreads across communities with incredible speed. Just look at the story of expanding TV access in the rural areas of one poor country, Indonesia: Within two years of village electrification, average television ownership rates reached 30 percent. Within seven years, 60 percent of households had TVs -- this in areas where average surveyed incomes were about $2 a day. Fewer than 5 percent of these same households owned refrigerators. Television is so beloved that in the vast swaths of the world where there is still no electricity network, people hook up their TVs to batteries -- indeed, in a number of poor countries, such as Peru, more homes have televisions than electricity.

For More

What They're Watching

Soaps, soaps, and more soaps. But not all of the dramas are created equal.

As a result, the television is fast approaching global ubiquity. About half of Indian households have a television, up from less than a third in 2001; the figure for Brazil is more than four-fifths. (In comparison, just 7 percent of Indians use the Internet, and about one-third of Brazilians do.) In places like Europe and North America, 90-plus percent of households have a TV. Even in countries as poor as Vietnam and Algeria, rates are above 80 percent. But the potential for real growth in access (and impact) is in the least-developed countries, like Nigeria and Bangladesh, where penetration rates are still well below 30 percent.

If an explosion of access is the first global television revolution, then an explosion of choice will be the second. By 2013, half of the world's televisions will be receiving digital signals, which means access to many more channels. Digital broadcast builds on considerably expanded viewing options delivered through cable or satellite. Indeed, nearly two-thirds of households in India with a TV already have a cable or satellite connection. And in the United States, a bellwether for global television trends, the spread of cable since 1970 has meant an increasing number of broadcast channels are sharing a declining proportion of the audience -- down from 80 percent to 40 percent over the last 35 years. The average American household now has access to 119 channels, and a similar phenomenon is spreading rapidly around the globe.

The explosion of choice is loosening the grip of bureaucrats the world over, who in many countries have either run or controlled programming directly, or heavily regulated the few stations available. A 97-country survey carried out a few years ago found that an average of 60 percent of the top five television stations in each country were owned by the state, with 32 percent in the hands of small family groupings. Programming in developing countries in particular has often been slanted toward decidedly practical topics -- rural TV in China, for example, frequently covers the latest advances in pig breeding. And coverage of politics has often strayed from the balanced. Think Hugo Chávez, who refused to renew the license of RCTV, Venezuela's most popular TV network, after it broadcast commentary critical of his government. He regularly appears on the state channel in his own TV show Aló Presidente -- episodes of which last anywhere from six to a record 96 hours.

But increasingly, the days when presidential speechmaking and pig breeding were must-see TV are behind us. As choices in what to watch expand, people will have access both to a wider range of voices and to a growing number of channels keen to give the audience what it really wants. And what it wants seems to be pretty much the same everywhere -- sports, reality shows, and, yes, soap operas. Some 715 million people worldwide watched the finals of the 2006 soccer World Cup, for example. More than a third of Afghanistan's population tunes into that country's version of American Idol -- Afghan Star. The biggest television series ever worldwide is Baywatch, an everyday tale of lifesaving folk based on and around the beaches of Santa Monica, Calif. The show has been broadcast in 142 countries, and at its peak it had an audience estimated north of 1 billion. (Today, the world's most popular TV show is the medical drama House, which according to media consulting firm Eurodata TV Worldwide was watched by 82 million people last year in 66 countries, edging out CSI and Desperate Housewives.)

Ghulam Nabi Azad, India's health and family welfare minister, has even taken to promoting TV as a form of birth control. "In olden days people had no other entertainment but sex, which is why they produced so many children," he mused publicly in July. "Today, TV is the biggest source of entertainment. Hence, it is important that there is electricity in every village so that people watch TV till late in the night. By the time the serials are over, they'll be too tired to have sex and will fall asleep." Azad is certainly right that television helps slow birthrates, though experience from his own country and elsewhere suggests that it is by example, not exhaustion, that TV programs manage such a dramatic effect.

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The World's Most Popular
TV Shows

What does the world love to watch?

Since the 1970s, Brazil's Rede Globo network has been providing a steady diet of locally produced soaps, some of which are watched by as many as 80 million people. The programs are no more tales of everyday life in Brazil than Desperate Housewives is an accurate representation of a typical U.S. suburb. In a country where divorce was only legalized in 1977, nearly a fifth of the main female characters were divorced (and about a quarter were unfaithful). What's more, 72 percent of the main female characters on the Globo soaps had no kids, and only 7 percent had more than one. In 1970, the average Brazilian woman, in contrast, had given birth nearly six times.

But the soaps clearly resonated with viewers. As the Globo network expanded to new areas in the 1970s and 1980s, according to researchers at the Inter-American Development Bank, parents began naming their kids after soap-opera characters. And women in those parts of the country -- especially poor women -- started having fewer babies. Being in an area covered by the Globo network had the same effect on a woman's fertility as two additional years of education. This wasn't the result of what was shown during commercial breaks -- for most of the time, contraceptive advertising was banned, and there was no government population-control policy at all. The portrayal of plausible female characters with few children, apparently, was an important social cue.

Cable and satellite television may be having an even bigger impact on fertility in rural India. As in Brazil, popular programming there includes soaps that focus on urban life. Many women on these serials work outside the home, run businesses, and control money. In addition, soap characters are typically well-educated and have few children. And they prove to be extraordinarily powerful role models: Simply giving a village access to cable TV, research by scholars Robert Jensen and Emily Oster has found, has the same effect on fertility rates as increasing by five years the length of time girls stay in school.

The soaps in Brazil and India provided images of women who were empowered to make decisions affecting not only childbirth, but a range of household activities. The introduction of cable or satellite services in a village, Jensen and Oster found, goes along with higher girls' school enrollment rates and increased female autonomy. Within two years of getting cable or satellite, between 45 and 70 percent of the difference between urban and rural areas on these measures disappears. In Brazil, it wasn't just birthrates that changed as Globo's signal spread -- divorce rates went up, too. There may be something to the boast of one of the directors of the company that owns Afghan Star. When a woman reached the final five this year, the director suggested it would "do more for women's rights than all the millions of dollars we have spent on public service announcements for women's rights on TV."

TV's salutary effects extend far beyond reproduction and gender equality. Kids who watch TV out of school, according to a World Bank survey of young people in the shantytowns of Fortaleza in Brazil, are considerably less likely to consume drugs (or, for that matter, get pregnant). TV's power to reduce youth drug use was two times larger than having a comparatively well-educated mother. And though they might not be as subtly persuasive as telenovelas or reality shows, well-designed broadcast campaigns can also make a difference. In Ghana, where as few as 4 percent of mothers were found to wash their hands with soap after defecating and less than 1 percent before feeding their children, reported hand-washing rates shot up in response to a broadcast campaign emphasizing that people eat "more than just rice" if preparers don't wash their hands properly before dinner.

Indeed, TV is its own kind of education -- and rather than clash with schooling, as years of parental nagging would suggest, it can even enhance it. U.S. kids with access to a TV signal in the 1950s, for instance -- think toddlers watching quality educational programming like I Love Lucy -- tended to have higher test scores in 1964, according to research by Matthew Gentzkow and Jesse Shapiro of the University of Chicago. Today, more than 700,000 secondary-school students in remote Mexican villages watch the Telesecundaria program of televised classes. Although students enter the program with below-average test scores in mathematics and language, by graduation they have caught up in math and halved the language-score deficit.

Similarly, evidence that television is responsible for the grim state of civic discourse is mixed, at best. Better television reception in Javanese villages in Indonesia, according to research by Ben Olken, comes with substantially lower levels of participation in social activities and with lower measures of trust in others. Villages with access to an extra TV channel see a decline of about 7 percent in the number of social groups. Similar outcomes have been found in the United States. But improved television reception did not appear to affect the level of discussion in village meetings or levels of corruption in a village road project undertaken during Olken's study. And an examination of the early history of television in the United States by Markus Prior suggests that regions that saw access to more channels in the 1950s and 1960s witnessed increases in political knowledge, interest, and turnout, especially among less-educated TV viewers.

What about television's broader impact on governance? Here, it's the level of competition that seems to matter -- a hopeful sign given that the future of global TV is likely to be considerably more competitive. If the only channel that viewers watch is biased in its coverage, then, unsurprisingly, they are likely to be swayed toward that viewpoint. Brazil's Globo channel, for all its positive impact on fertility rates, has played a less positive role in terms of bias-free reporting. It has long had a close relationship with government, as well as a dominant market share. In Brazil's 1989 election -- a race in which Globo was squarely behind right-leaning presidential candidate Fernando Collor de Mello -- the difference between people who never watched television and those who watched it frequently was a 13 percentage-point increase in the likelihood of voting for Collor, scholar Taylor Boas found. But with channels proliferating nearly everywhere, television controllers may have much less power to sway elections today. In the choice-rich United States, for example, there is no simple relation between hours watched and voting patterns, even if those who watch particular channels are more likely to vote Republican or Democrat.

Then there's corruption. Consider the bribes that Peruvian secret-police chief Vladimiro Montesinos had to pay to subvert competitive newsmaking during the 1990s. It cost only $300,000 per month for Montesinos to bribe most of the congressmen in Peru's government, and about $250,000 a month to bribe the judges -- a real bargain. But Montesinos had to spend about $3 million a month to subvert six of the seven available television channels to ensure friendly coverage for the government. The good news here is that competition in the electronic Fourth Estate can apparently make it more expensive to run a country corruptly.

Corruption is one thing, but could television help solve a problem we've had since before Sumer and Elam battled it out around Basra in 2700 B.C. -- keeping countries from fighting each other? Maybe.

U.S. researchers who study violence on TV battle viciously themselves over whether it translates into more aggressive behavior in real life. But at least from a broader perspective, television might play a role in stemming the global threat of war. It isn't that TV reporting of death and destruction necessarily reduces support for wars already begun -- that's an argument that has raged over conflicts from Vietnam to the Iraq war. It is more that, by fostering a growing global cosmopolitanism, television might make war less attractive to begin with. Indeed, the idea that communications are central to building cross-cultural goodwill is an old one. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels suggested in the 19th century that railways were vital in rapidly cementing the union of the working class: "that union, to attain which the burghers of the Middle Ages, with their miserable highways, required centuries, the modern proletarians, thanks to railways, achieve in a few years," they wrote in The Communist Manifesto. If the Amtraks of the world can have such an impact, surely the Hallmark Channel can do even better.

The fact that Kobe Bryant (born in Philadelphia, plays for the Los Angeles Lakers) sees his basketball shirt considerably outsell those of Yao Ming (born in Shanghai, plays for the Houston Rockets) in China suggests something of that growing global cosmopolitanism at work. The considerable response of global television viewers to images of famine in Ethiopia, or the tsunami in Asia, also shows how TV is a powerful force for shrinking the emotional distance between peoples within and between countries. In the United States, an additional minute of nightly news coverage of the Asian tsunami increased online donation levels to charities involved in relief efforts by 13 percent, according to research from the William Davidson Institute. And analysis of U.S. public opinion indicates that more coverage of a country on evening news shows is related to increased sympathy and support for that country.

Of course, the extent to which television helps foster cosmopolitanism depends on what people are watching. People in the Middle East who only watched Arab news channels were considerably less likely to agree that the September 11 attacks were carried out by Arab terrorists than those exposed to Western media coverage, researchers Gentzkow and Shapiro found, even after taking into account other characteristics likely to shape their views such as education, language, and age. Similarly, the tone and content of coverage of the ground invasion of Iraq was notably different on Al Jazeera than it was on U.S. and British network broadcasts in the spring of 2003 -- and surely this helped sustain notably different attitudes toward the war. But with the growing reach of BBC World News and CNN in the Middle East, and the growing reach of Al Jazeera in the West, there is at least a greater potential to understand how the other side thinks.

Just because soap operas and reality shows can help solve real-world problems doesn't mean the world's politicians should now embrace TV as the ultimate policy prescription. There are of course a few things governments could do to harness television's power for good, such as supporting well-designed public service announcements. But for the most part, politicians ought to be paying less attention to TV, not more. They shouldn't be limiting the number of channels or interfering in the news. A vibrant, competitive television market playing Days of Our Lives or Días de Nuestras Vidas on loop might have a bigger impact even than well-meaning educational programs. And competition is critical to ensuring that television helps inform voters, not just indoctrinate them.

In the not-too-distant future, it is quite possible that the world will be watching 24 billion hours of TV a day -- an average of close to four hours for each person in the world. Some of those hours could surely be better spent -- planting trees, helping old ladies cross the road, or playing cricket, perhaps. But watching TV exposes people to new ideas and different people. With that will come greater opportunity, growing equality, a better understanding of the world, and a new appreciation of the complexities of life for a wannabe Afghan woman pop star. Not bad for a siren Medusa supposedly giving so little.


Oct 26, 2009

Inside Indonesia - ‘Selamat Berbuka Puasa’

A few minutes before Magrib, the time of day when Muslims break their fast during the month of Ramadan, local television in South Kalimantan broadcasts daily advertisements featuring a cross section of the province’s top politicians. No less than the governor, his deputy, the mayor of the provincial capital Banjarmasin, two high profile district heads, one Banjarese member of President Yudhoyono’s cabinet, and the head of major political party all line up for the chance to appear on the province’s TV screens. On the surface, these advertisements consist of purely religious statements. However on a deeper level they carry political messages that are closely connected to up-coming local elections. And it’s not something that happens only in South Kalimantan.

The thirty to sixty second advertisements take the form of ‘Ramadan messages’. They have three things in common. First, the Islamic greeting ‘assalamu’alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh’ opens and closes each of the broadcasts. Second, the advertisements identify the TV star politicians through digital texts spelling out their names and positions for viewers. In most cases, each of the politicians restates this information in his spoken message. Third, there is a congratulatory statement for Muslims practising the obligatory fast, along with the expressed hope that their act of devotion will be acceptable to God. However within this overall pattern, differences in style and presentation emerge.

Some politicians are livelier and more engaging than others. Additional images may be inserted into the advertisement, such as those that depict a district head’s initiative in fostering hundreds of orphans, or offer a glimpse into his office complex. Another district head demonstrates his mastery of Arabic by prefacing his Indonesian message with an Arabic introduction. All of them are outdone by the deputy governor, who features in a series of advertisements entitled ‘In the Steps of the Caliph’, which show him visiting a number of sites in Saudi Arabia. In other words, some advertisements are more attractive and informative than others, and are more likely to attract the attention of viewers.
Islamic credentials

At the local level, the demonstration of Islamic credentials has become a political necessity for Muslim politicians. Whatever political platform and agenda they espouse, politicians feel it necessary to present themselves as good Muslims who have performed the hajj pilgrimage, are close to Islamic teachers and attentive to their needs, and are supportive of Islamic prayer houses, schools, and public events and activities sponsored by local Islamic institutions. This behaviour is especially prominent during campaign periods and in areas where Islam is of particular political importance like South Kalimantan.

With 97 per cent of its population professing Islam, South Kalimantan has a history of strong support for Islamic political parties. In the direct gubernatorial elections in 2005 all candidates used Islamic symbols. Although Islamic credentials alone were not enough to hand victory to a candidate – other factors such as a clean reputation, sufficient time and funds for a successful campaign, and the backing of effective political machinery all played their part – they represented an essential ingredient in each candidate’s campaign.

The broadcasting of advertisements during Ramadan is part of this recognition of Islam’s strategic importance in areas like South Kalimantan. Their timing – just before buka puasa, or the breaking of the fast – is cleverly calculated to reach the maximum viewing audience. This is because it is common practice for Indonesian Muslims to gather together in private homes, mosques or other community sites while they await the sound of the drum or siren from the mosque that signals the beginning of Magrib. While awaiting the signal, people often sit around their TV sets, reciting holy verses or engaging in small talk. As the time for breaking of the fast approaches, these TV sets are almost always tuned to the local channels, because these channels broadcast the exact local time for buka puasa, not the Jakarta time announced on national TV. It is precisely at this moment – the moment which the Prophet Muhammad likened to the joy of meeting God in the afterlife – that the advertisements appear.

Campaigning and Islam

Apart from appearing in buka puasa advertisements, candidates for the 2010 gubernatorial elections in South Kalimantan also figure in a range of other campaign activities specifically geared to the month of Ramadhan. The publicity-hungry deputy governor has sponsored football competitions, a big contest to recite Maulid Nabi (the story of the Prophet Muhammad) in the form of Arabic poems and pop concerts with performers imported from Jakarta for the local youth. He appears on local television on an almost daily basis, either in news programs or in interactive dialogues with viewers. The governor tries to counterbalance his deputy’s campaign by having his picture plastered right up and down a new road under construction, as well as sponsoring smaller events like a song bird competition and using government funds at his disposal to renovate the provincial mosque.

The biggest challenger facing off against both these candidates is the head of the district 3of Tanah Bumbu, the site of the province’s most extensive mining and logging activities. Through large hoardings and street banners in Banjarmasin and other parts of South Kalimantan, he has been promoting his district’s establishment of a ‘palace for orphans’ (Istana Anak Yatim) as a way of establishing his social welfare credentials. With the help of an academic from Lambung Mangkurat University he has instituted a so-called Manajemen Ilahiyyah program (‘a system of management based on God’s commands’).

Intended to inject a religious atmosphere into the working environment in his office, this program requires public servants to recite the Qur’an every morning at the office, perform daily prayers as a congregation, and attend a weekly ‘religious-advice-evening’, without any clear indication of how it contributes to good governance in the region. However many of the local religious teachers who received invitations to deliver Islamic lectures as part of the ‘advice evenings’, and took home substantial amounts of money as honoraria, have praised the initiative. With the next gubernatorial elections less than a year away, it is not surprising that Ramadan advertisements have become part of this intense competition for votes.
Islam and politics

Ramadan media advertisements are not the sole monopoly of local politicians in South Kalimantan. In the adjoining province of East Kalimantan, which boasts what is claimed to be the largest mosque in Southeast Asia, prominent local politicians and other aspiring candidates for the July 2009 mayoral elections produced their own Ramadan-oriented messages for local TV. In Lombok, another region where Islam plays a significant role in politics, radio was the medium through which Ramadan messages were disseminated. One of these messages reached the ears of listeners almost every ten minutes, almost giving the impression that the radio station was holding a competition for the best Ramadan message of the year.

The high profile of local television during Ramadan has encouraged the stampede by local politicians to get their images on TV screens at prime viewing times. Though ostensibly religious in character, these ‘messages’ carry strong political overtones, and are intended to boost the popularity of candidates contesting up-coming local elections. In parts of Indonesia where Islam and politics are closely intertwined, they function as a contemporary example of the long history of the penetration of religion into local-level political processes. ii

Ahmad Muhajir (ajir_82@yahoo.com) has just completed a Masters thesis on Islamic scholars and politics in South Kalimantan at the Australian National University.

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Aug 5, 2009

How Sesame Street Changed the World

Published May 23, 2009

From the magazine issue dated Jun 1, 2009

This story has been brought to you by the letter S and the numbers 15 and 40. (Or, as the Count might say in his adorable Transylvanian accent, "fivteen and forrrty—HA, HA, HA!") The S, as anyone who has ever watched television can deduce by now, stands for Sesame Street. The 40 is almost as easy: this year marks the 40th anniversary of sunny days, friendly neighbors and the fuzzy creatures who live on that street where the air is sweet. If you haven't watched recently with your children or grandchildren, you'll be relieved to know that impending middle age hasn't wrinkled Sesame Street all that much. Big Bird still waddles, Cookie Monster still goes on his sugar binges and Ernie still wakes up Bert at all hours with questions (none of them, mercifully, about the nature of their relationship). In a world where cultural touchstones are dropping faster than the Mets in September—sorry, Guiding Light fans—the endurance of Sesame Street is nothing short of a miracle.

Which brings us to that second number of the day: 15. That, shockingly, is where Nielsen says Sesame Street ranks among the top children's shows on the air. Some months, it does even worse. Ask a preschooler who her favorite TV character is, and chances are she'll say Dora, Curious George or, heaven help us, SpongeBob. We know it doesn't seem nice to point out that the granddaddy of children's television is regularly beaten up by a girl who talks to her backpack, but these are desperate times. The Children's Television Workshop (now called Sesame Workshop) produces only 26 episodes a year now, down from a high of 130. The workshop itself recently announced it was laying off 20 percent of its staff as the recession continues to take a toll on nonprofit arts organizations. But Sesame Street is no ordinary nonprofit. It is, arguably, the most important children's program in the history of television. No show has affected the way we think about education, parenting, childhood development and cultural diversity, both in the United States and abroad, more than Big Bird and friends. You might even say that Sesame Street changed the world, one letter at a time. Don't believe us? Then let's imagine where we'd be if Sesame Street never existed.

For one thing, television itself might be a "vast wasteland." That was the phrase FCC chairman Newton Minow used to describe the TV landscape in 1961, and children's TV was hardly exempt. As recounted in Street Gang, a new book by TV journalist Michael Davis, the show came about after Lloyd Morrisett, an experimental psychologist, walked into his living room and found his 3-year-old daughter mesmerized by the TV test pattern. He told that story at a dinner party several weeks later and wondered aloud if children might be able to learn something from the boob tube. It seems like a crazy question in our Baby Einstein world, but back then, to paraphrase Donald Rumsfeld, we didn't know what we didn't know. When Sesame Street arrived, scientists were just discovering that our brains were not fully formed at birth and could be affected by early experiences. Head Start began in 1965, in part, out of that revelation. "Educators were virtually ignoring the intellect of preschool children," says Joan Ganz Cooney, who threw that dinner party and has been the show's visionary since the beginning. Children would eat up the ABCs before kindergarten, Cooney believed, especially if a wacky puppet ate up alphabet-shaped cookies along with them. The Department of Education was skeptical. Captain Kangaroo and Mister Rogers, though age-appropriate, had not become must-see TV; Bozo and Romper Room (which ended each show with the hostess pretending she could see children at home through a magic mirror that was obviously fake) presented dumbed-down fun. But the government agreed to contribute half of the original $8 million budget to launch Sesame Street. "It was a speculative leap," Morrisett says.

The results were pretty immediate. The first season in 1969 set out to teach children to count from one to 10, but it became clear that kids as young as 2 could make it to 20. (The show now hits 100, counting by tens.) That rookie year also yielded three Emmys, a Peabody Award, a front-page rave from The New York Times and one especially noteworthy piece of fan mail: "The many children and families now benefiting from 'Sesame Street' are participants in one of the most promising experiments in the history of that medium. The Children's Television Workshop certainly deserves the high praise it has been getting from young and old alike in every corner of the nation. This administration is enthusiastically committed to opening up opportunities for every youngster, particularly during his first five years of life, and is pleased to be among the sponsors of your distinguished program. Sincerely, Richard Nixon."

The most impressive feedback, however, came from the kids themselves—or at least from their test scores. No show to this day has probed its effects on kids as thoroughly as Sesame Street, which plans to spend more than $770,000 in 2009 on its department of education and research. When people think of Sesame Street as the essence of educational television, what they don't realize is how much the show has educated the educators. "Before Sesame Street, kindergartens taught very little," says Cooney, "and suddenly masses of children were coming in knowing letters and numbers." Independent research found that children who regularly watch Sesame Street gained more than nonviewers on tests of letter and number recognition, vocabulary and early math skills. One study, in 2001, revealed that the show's positive effects on reading and achievement lasted through high school. "It totally changed parental thinking about television," says Daniel Anderson, a psychologist at the University of Massachusetts.

But the show was never just about improving test scores. Perhaps the most radical part of the Sesame DNA has always been its social activism. From the start, Sesame targeted lower-income, urban kids—the ones who lived on streets with garbage cans sitting in front of their rowhouse apartments. The show arrived on the heels of riots in Washington, Baltimore, Cleveland and Chicago, and the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Chester Pierce, a Harvard professor who founded the Black Psychiatrists of America, was one of the show's original advisers, and he was acutely aware of the racism his 3-year-old daughter would face in that hostile time. "It was intentional from the beginning to show different races living together," says David Kleeman, executive director of the American Center for Children and Media. "They were very conscious of the modeling that kids and parents would take away from that."

In 1969, that was still a radical notion in some corners of the country. Here was a TV show putting African-Americans on a level playing field with white characters, showing them not as servants or entertainers, but as equals. (Though it should be noted that when the show premiered, some African-Americans took offense to Oscar the Grouch, who accepts his poverty rather than fighting against it, as a demeaning stand-in for inner-city blacks.) An integrated program aimed at impressionable children was too much for the good people of Mississippi. The state's commission for educational television banned the show in May 1970. Cooney called it "a tragedy for both the white and black children of Mississippi," and news reports saw her outrage and raised it. The state finally reversed itself, 22 days later. When you think about what the world might have looked like without Sesame, you can't dismiss the impact of putting Gordon and Susan into America's living rooms. Is it too much of a stretch to claim that the man in the White House might not be there without Sesame Street? "I like to think," Cooney says, "that we had something to do with Obama's election."

The show's impact has been as profound overseas. Sesame Street is now exported to 16 countries and regions—places such as the Palestinian territories, Kosovo and Bangladesh, where the message of tolerance can be in short supply. In South Africa, where as recently as 2008 the president insisted that HIV does not cause AIDS, the show features a ginger-colored, HIV-positive Muppet. The South African Sesame is also now produced in 12 of the country's official languages.

The show's we-are-the-world agenda doesn't always produce friendly neighbors. In 1998, a Middle East version was launched, co-produced by Israelis and Palestinians. The Israeli and Palestinian Muppets lived on different streets, but they would sometimes visit each other to play. Israeli Muppets could appear in Palestinian territory, but not without being invited. But the intifada made the notion of coexistence and cooperation politically untenable and it was canceled. The show returned in 2006, but now there are separate versions produced for Israel and the Palestinian territories. The Palestinian one no longer features Jews at all.

The tough topics aren't only political. Following the attacks of 9/11, the 33rd-season premiere found Elmo struggling to deal with his fear after he sees a grease fire break out at a lunch counter. He's reassured after he visits with real-life firefighters in Harlem. With that storyline, Sesame Street did more to acknowledge its audience's unsettled feelings than many adult shows did, even some set in Manhattan, including Friends and Sex and the City. In 1982, Will Lee, the man who played Mr. Hooper, died suddenly of a heart attack. The show decided to tackle the issue of death with an episode on Big Bird's distress and confusion over losing his friend. Children with illnesses and conditions such as Down syndrome are also regularly included. "For many children, the first place they may see a ballet may be on Sesame Street," said Rosemarie Truglio, vice president of education and research for Sesame Workshop, in a book about the show. "Moreover, it may be the only place where they see a ballet performed by a girl in a wheelchair."

Not everyone thinks that Sesame Street is doing right by kids. Latino groups have criticized it for not having a Hispanic character in its early years. The show only introduced a major female Muppet in 1992. (Prairie Dawn was too annoying to count as a role model.) It has also been criticized by Ralph Nader and the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood for selling out its characters in too many licensing deals. Some of its interactive software products have been panned by Children's Technology Review.

There is no question that Sesame has provoked some critics to chastise it for getting a little too attached to the letters P and C. After the show launched an obesity-awareness campaign called Healthy Habits for Life, one particular Muppet needed to get with the program. So in 2005, Cookie Monster began to sing about cookies being "sometimes" food. Parents, some of whom wrongly believed that Cookie was going to become a health-food nut, started a preschool food fight. It turns out that Cookie still eats cookies in his typically frenzied fashion. "But the lesson was, this show is important," says executive producer Carol-Lynn Parente. "Don't mess with it."

That's impossible, of course. As Nicole Kidman might say about Botox, no 40-year-old looks young without a few touch-ups. (Cosmetic case in point: in the first season, Oscar was a particularly unattractive shade of orange.) Sesame Workshop is focusing a lot of energy on the digital universe. It recently launched a new Web site featuring a huge library of free video clips, both recent ones and classics. It also offers a series of podcasts that parentscan download to their phones to show their kids later, like when they're stuck in a long line at the grocery store. So in that sense, Sesame Street is no longer changing the world as much as trying to keep up with the world's changes. "We need to continuously reinvent or experiment," says CEO Gary Knell, "or else we are going to be dead."

Could that really happen—could Big Bird follow Mr. Hooper into the big playground in the sky? Maybe it's wrong to even worry about that. The granddaddy of them all doesn't have to survive for the breed to prosper; if that were true, people would still be driving Edsels. Children's programs are in more places than ever. But only a tiny handful, such as Blue's Clues or the new PBS show Super Why!, make any real attempt to conduct research like Sesame Workshop, not to mention influence the way the world thinks. If we agree that Sesame Street has changed our society, and many others, for the better, if we agree that we still need messages of open-mindedness and if we agree that it is still rare to find an educational television show that parents and children can enjoy watching together, then we have to hope that our furry gang will live on to greet the next generation of children. Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street? Of course. The more important question now is: can you tell me if Sesame Street will continue to get to us?

With Joshua Alston

Guernsey is the author of Into The Minds Of Babes: How Screen Time Affects Children From Birth To Age 5.

Find this article at http://www.newsweek.com/id/199141