Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, December 20, 1993 TAG: 9312180118
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 2 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: NEW YORK LENGTH: Medium
So argues actor Michael Moriarty. Passionately.
Many viewers are acquainted with his stubborn self-composure as assistant district attorney Ben Stone on the NBC drama "Law & Order." But in real life these days, Moriarty traffics in exclamation points. What has him so stirred up is the debate on TV violence, which, he rages, has taken a brutish turn.
"What a classic device! The politics of fear," he calls the anti-violence frenzy on Capitol Hill, which this fall yielded no fewer than nine proposed laws that would label and limit what goes on the air.
It's a shrewd power play, Moriarty says. "A leader instills in the people a fear of their own television set, then convinces them that HE is what stands between them and chaos."
That's "he," unless it's a "she." Say, Attorney General Janet Reno. She has warned the TV industry to mend its ways, and pronto, or "government action will be imperative."
Reno, whom Moriarty brands a "television programming czarina," was who set him off in the first place. He marks his moment of truth as a Nov. 18 meeting in a Washington, D.C., hotel suite, where he gathered with six others from the TV community, including a producer, a network programming chief and an advertising executive.
Moriarty, like the rest, had come to discuss TV violence with Reno. He left, he says, "in shock."
At a press conference he called in Manhattan two weeks later, Moriarty characterized the evening-long session as not so much a meeting as a kangaroo court.
"Her verdict was pretty much in," he wrote in a lengthy memorandum distributed to reporters. In Reno's view, wrote Moriarty, "The television networks and their entertainment people are guilty of contributing to violent crime in America."
Coming from the highest law enforcement official in the land, he reasons, this effectively condemns TV, without benefit of trial, as an accessory to any crime of violence any viewer may commit.
Reno has no comment. "It wouldn't be appropriate for the attorney general to discuss a private meeting," said Caroline Aronovitz, spokeswoman for the Justice Department.
But others who were there have been willing to talk, on the condition of anonymity.
Accounts vary. One participant recalls a productive give-and-take with Reno. But another says the attorney general seemed more interested in scapegoats than ideas, and adds, "I can understand [Moriarty's] reaction."
According to this source, a "pretty scary" moment arrived when Reno singled out the frothy Angela Lansbury hit "Murder, She Wrote" as a regrettable example of TV violence.
Where would such a standard leave Moriarty's own series? "Law & Order" (which airs Wednesday at 10 p.m. on NBC) is, above all, a responsible endeavor. It is a show that devotes itself to dissecting, and deploring, acts of urban violence. And not by flaunting that violence, but by soberly exposing its consequences.
Yet, true to its subject, the typical "Law & Order" episode is strong stuff. Maybe too strong, in a climate where "Murder, She Wrote" is suspect.
Millions of households tune in these series each week. Millions more don't. Now, Moriarty believes the intent of the proposed laws is to convince you that you aren't equipped to make that sort of choice for yourself.
"That's what this legislation is doing: It's weakening us, making us doubt ourselves. And when they say it's for the sake of the children, they're saying we can't protect our own kids, that we're unfit parents. That's an outrage to me."
The man who plays a prosecutor on TV has felt on trial himself since his encounter with Reno. He says he feels alarmed. But exhilarated, too.
"Life isn't to be feared," Moriarty says, "and TV isn't your enemy! At its best, it can help rehearse you for life and maybe point you toward some answers. At the very worst, it's junk, but no more threatening than the Big Mac the president eats after he jogs."
The issue of TV violence is complex, but Moriarty sees the first step as a simple one.
"Write your senator and say, `Stop selling me fear. I know how to live and how to raise my children.'
"Tell your senator, `Don't patronize me!' "
by CNB