By Selwyn Duke
I bound out of bed in eager anticipation of the start of the day. No one had to tell me to set the alarm last night — it's the only time I don't mind rising early. It's the mid 1970s, and for me it's the days of Lego blocks and Tinker Toys, Estes model rockets and action figures (and no, in the boy world you don't call them dolls!). My life is relatively simple; to me, the biggest problems on this earth are homework, the occasional bully and an always skimpy defense budget (you don't raise an armed force of hundreds of toy soldiers, ships, planes and forts from nothing, you know). My greatest ambitions are winning the next battle on the living room floor and saving enough money to buy that ever elusive but oh-so-cool radio control plane I pine after.
Right now, though, those things have been tucked away in the recesses of my mind. It's Saturday morning, inarguably my favorite time of the week. School ended yesterday, and Monday morning seems like just a distant quasi-reality. I am in the here and now; nothing intrudes into my psyche as I look forward to my weekly ritual and favorite pastime. It's the only time that I have the TV all to myself; my father, the undisputed Sultan of the tube (and he conquered it without a remote — that's talent) is out playing golf. My mother is still in bed, enjoying some much deserved slumber, and my much older siblings are also absent - they no longer care to venture into this delicious realm. It is my domain and I have tunnel vision. I am all alone.
Alone, that is, save my companions behind the glass screen. What lies before me is a seeming eternity of cartoon bliss. The line-up changes slightly with the calendar, but, regardless, the day starts at 8 a.m. Some shows have earned their stripes and have won a permanent place in my heart; others I only flirt with until something better supplants them. Sometimes "Sylvester and Tweety," "Woody Woodpecker" or "Hong Kong Phooey" would kick off the day, and sometimes it would be "Scooby-Doo, Where are You?" or the "Bugs Bunny Show." But then this last show evolved into "The Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner Hour" and became the pièce de résistance. "Tom and Jerry" and/or "Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle" often follow, and sometimes "Josie and the Pussycats" or "Heathcliff and Marmaduke" make an appearance.
This world is rife with prejudice, as human beings are second-class citizens — persona non grata — I don't want to see them. But I make an allowance for "The Land of the Lost"; after all, going back in time and seeing dinosaurs and the evil, flesh-eating Sleestaks is neat. But now it's around noon and I watch "Fat Albert" with an intense sense of foreboding, for I know that it will be today's last cartoon hoorah. What follows are . . . of all things . . . shows with real people! They talk about grown-up things like business and politics, and I'll be brought back to reality as my world comes crumbling down. To me, "Fat Albert" is a sign of the End Times.
Fast-forward to the third millennium. My erstwhile pastime has long since faded into the annals of my life; I'm a big boy now and my diversions take different forms. I appreciate sleep much more than I did back then, but on one Saturday morning I was, regrettably, not cradled in the arms of Morpheus, owing to a bout with insomnia. It was then that I decided to revisit my old pastime.
It was not in the least nostalgic. For one thing, it became obvious that Saturday mornings probably don't possess the same kiddie cachet that they once did, as the mainstream networks no longer have the cartoon-dense line-up that used to light up my eyes. Of course, this is because the advent of cable brought kids cartoons 24/7; there's even a "Toon Network" now. Also, not surprisingly, most of the old standbys have been replaced by newer and often very different cartoon fare — very different.
What I encountered ensured that my experience would not only be bereft of any nostalgic qualities but that it would actually be somewhat sad. The stuff of cartoons used to be Elmer Fudd on a perennial hunt for Daffy Duck, or Wile E. Coyote fruitlessly scheming against the elusive Roadrunner. In contrast, today's cartoons are often highly politicized by-products of liberal agendas. A common theme seems to be to cast a corporation as a villain, as an evil entity whose only goal is to pollute the Earth as much as possible; that's the radical-environmentalist agenda. Then you have shows like the "Powerpuff Girls," in which is present the feminist message proclaiming that it's ideal for girls to be just like boys. Such shows are obviously meant to counteract what their creators might call "gender stereotyping"; you've heard the spiel: "You can be strong, tough and feminine." I wonder if these people have ever thought about how femininity is different from masculinity. Most blatant, though, was an episode of "The New Johnny Quest" in which the villain was dressed exactly like a Catholic priest — clerical outfit, hat and all. And all this is the handiwork of the sensitivity crowd, the liberals who claim that no person should be offended and no group singled out. I guess the new Johnny Quest is the old Johnny Quest after a stint in a re-education camp.
Unfortunately, far too many cartoons have become just another front in the culture war for the hearts and minds of America's children. Gone are the days of animation icons like Chuck Jones, William Hanna and Joseph Barbera, to whom entertainment was the goal and seeing a young child's eyes light up the reward. This almost extinct attitude is why the older works don't serve to shape thinking or beat the drum for some cause. And while he wasn't a cartoonist, I think that attitude is expressed well by Mark Twain, who wrote as an introduction to Huckleberry Finn: "PERSONS attempting to find a motive in this narra- tive will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished." In other words, just read it, have fun and lose yourself in a different world for a spell. Unfortunately, in many cases the aforementioned artists' mantle has been inherited by second-rate talents with third-rate minds who seem to fancy themselves social activists first and entertainers second.
Of course, this is not to say that having a moral in a work is a modern phenomenon, although having one in a cartoon certainly is. But the morals present in stories years ago were generally very different in nature. "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" and "The Three Little Pigs" certainly send moral messages: the former teaches that if you lie people will cease to trust you and then won't believe you even when you tell the Truth; the latter teaches that when you have a task you should take care to do a good job the very first time. But these are simple Truths, not part of an effort to garner support for political or social movements.
More importantly, though, is where these moral messages teach kids to place the focus. "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" and "The Three Little Pigs" teach kids to place the spotlight on themselves, encouraging them to perfect their own behavior. They say to kids: you shouldn't lie and here's why, or you should be conscientious and here's why. This encourages children to be humble and examine their own flaws; it instills in them the idea that their problems lie not in their stars but in themselves. This lies in stark contrast to the modern moral messages, which often tell us to place the focus and thereby the onus on things outside ourselves. To put it differently, the lying boy and the three pigs are not meant to be representatives of any of any specific group or entity; they are John Q. Publics, parts of each of us. Corporations or representatives of a Church are not, however; therefore, when you demonize them you are engendering in children bitterness toward, distrust of and sometimes even hatred for others.
This does a lot to divide people and make them into good foot soldiers in battles against what you've told them is a bogeyman, but very little to make them better. On the other hand, traditional messages usually tell people that it is every individual's primary responsibility to make the man in the mirror into a better human being. And this is wise. After all, if we all were far better people, there would be fewer bogeymen to vanquish. The first step toward changing the world is changing a minuscule part of it: yourself.
I'm sure the old young Lego-building-rocket-blasting-toy soldier me would have liked the politicized cartoons as much as the new, older, social critic me abhors them. They are designed to be pleasing to the youthful eye for the same reason why rat poison is made so that it will taste good to rats. Spiritual poison will only be imbibed when it's palatable, and brainwashing will only be effective when you're not aware it's occurring.
Tragically, there are those among us who are willing to pursue a slash and burn policy and denude children's souls just so they can plant the seeds of their brave new world. And as I strive for holiness in my life and try to regain some of the innocence of my youth, I realize ever more intensely what kind of offense this is. It is the worst kind of child abuse: the robbing of childhood innocence.
© 2002 Selwyn Duke —All Rights Reserved