Spiritual Television:

Is the World Ready for a True Spiritual Network

Yogesvara dasa

NB. The footnotes for this article are linked to a separate footnote page.

Introduction
A Native American storyteller named Ron Evans tells a tale that warms the
heart of all who agonise over the effects of contemporary media. Ron
visited Africa some years ago and was present the day electric lines were
installed for the first time in a tiny village. Along with wiring came a gift
from the local government: the village's first television. Ron describes how
the entire village sat mesmerised for three days watching every
programme. Then as if on cue, rose, turned off the set, and went about their
business. Curious as to their motives, Ron approached the village chief and
asked, 'Why did you stop watching the television?' The chief smiled and
replied, 'We don't need the television. We have our storyteller.' Delighted
but not completely satisfied by the reply, Ron commented, 'The television
knows many stories, too.' The chief bowed his head thoughtfully, then
looked up with a smile and said, 'Oh, no doubt the television knows many
stories. But our storyteller knows us!'

As a practising Vaishnava wary of the media's influence on consciousness, I

am encouraged by the innocent villagers' preference for their storyteller
over pre-recorded programming. But there is a twist in this cautionary tale:
I have never met Ron Evans. I heard his story on TV. As troubling as it may
be, television can serve to enlighten, and we who hope for a more
enlightened world must acknowledge its influence and power.

By now each hut in Ron's village probably boasts a TV with remote control
and satellite access to dozens, if not hundreds of channels, for the
electronic age has arrived, and nothing will stop its penetration into every
home in the world. Remote peoples, many of them on the list of endangered
species, feast on a daily fare of Beverly Hills 90210, Dallas reruns, and
assorted game shows where contestants vie for goods that some of these
viewers have never even seen. What effect this exposure will have on the
traditional values and social structures of isolated cultures is yet to be
seen. What can be noted, however, is the spiritual decay it wreaks on more
mainstream societies. Can this influence be corrected? Does spirituality
have a place in broadcast? Can ephemeral frames of film, or pixels on a flat
screen, communicate spiritual truths -or are the two realms mutually
exclusive?

In this article I will argue that a spiritual television network can put this
form of communication to use by educating people about the non-fanatical
side of religious thought, through believable characters, humour and the
kind of programming that television watchers expect. This is not to suggest,
however, that technology can solve our problems. Recently, a woman told
me that her daughter was seeing a psychiatrist on-line to improve, of all
things, her interpersonal relationships. That type of blind faith in
technology is disconcerting, as are cybergurus who point to the Net and
claim it is the fulfilment of French philosopher Teilhard de Chardin's
prediction of a new stage in human evolution.1 More impressive to me are
groups like the Amish who take a selective approach to technology and pay
little heed to the television screen. Scriptures provide them with whatever
information they need, and community events provide their entertainment.
From the perspective of the Amish, television merely reflects the fraud and
violence of the outside world. Why invite that into the living room?

Most of the world, however, does not take such a renounced position. For
ninety-three percent of all people on the planet, television is a part of daily
life. This fact must concern those of us committed to proactive spiritual and
religious thought. Interfaith dialogue will remain incomplete until it deals
effectively with this single-most pervasive medium.

A distinction should be made between religion and spirituality. For the

purpose of this article, religion will be taken to mean beliefs characteristic
of a particular people: a social and ritual structure that serves to identify
that people and distinguish them from other peoples. Spirituality, in the
context of this article, means ideas, truths and practices that transcend any
one human grouping: wisdom, stories and truths which are found in a
variety of religious cultures and which serve to unite peoples, whatever
their particular religious persuasion or denomination.

In this article, I will look at evidence that suggests the time is ripe for a
television network based on the stories, teachings and practices of the
world's spiritual cultures. I will examine how television has become the
common language of humanity, but now faces a crisis of content; I will then
go on to outline the ways spirituality was partnered with technology in the
past, and consider how such a partnership could help resolve the crisis
television is facing today. Finally, I will explain why I believe a well-run
spiritual network is tricky but achievable, and then briefly examine what
such a network might look like.

Television: The common language of humanity

Bonding via satellite

The latest James Bond movie, always a good indicator of the direction our
world is taking, features a diabolical Rupert Murdoch-like character who
delivers such gems of dialogue as 'There's no news like bad news' and 'Let
the mayhem begin!' He manipulates broadcast signals by pitting nation
against nation, in order to feed his global network with tomorrow's
headlines today, thus beating out the competition. Here is the anti-Christ as
media mogul, with satellites as the new tools for controlling people's souls.
'The best God ever managed', he laughs, 'was a Sermon on the Mount!'

Things may never reach this apocalyptic level: life is much better scripted.
It is true, however, that television will soon reach nearly every person on
earth by satellite, primarily because people would prefer a TV to running
water, and the cost of a dish has dropped dramatically. The first satellite, a
French prototype named Spot 1, went into orbit in 1986. Picking up the
signal required huge electronic dishes that cost millions of dollars. Today,
twelve short years later, a pizza-sized home dish costs under $100 and can
pick up hundreds of channels. Recently, a Los Angeles cable television
executive showed me the top end of home entertainment: an enormous dish
in his backyard that receives signals from eleven satellites circling the
globe. I sat stunned as he clicked through more than 1 000 channels from
his lounge chair. It was a television addict's dream and a thinking person's
nightmare.

The rate at which this proliferation has occurred is breathtaking. In the past
two years, one company alone, INTELSAT, has launched twenty-seven
communications satellites in geosynchronous space, meaning they are out
far enough in space to withstand gravity and stay at about 22 000 miles up
in one spot over the Earth's surface. To broadcast over such distance,
however, requires a very strong signal. For a satellite to hear the weaker
signal of a local cable station, it needs to be in low-earth orbit-and that is
the next frontier in electronic technology.

In 1997, Iridium LLC, a Washington D.C. based company, began sending up a

constellation of sixty-six satellites orbiting about 480 miles up, enough of
them that at least one will always be overhead picking up and passing on
weak-signal transmissions to and from any spot on Earth. This year,
OrbComm of Dulles, Virginia, will put into orbit its planned constellation of
twenty-eight satellites, and Globalstar LP will begin launching a satellite
constellation of forty-eight to support mobile-telephone service. Teledesic
Corp, employed by Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates, has set a goal for its fibre-
optic quality telecommunications to be available anywhere in the world.
This will be achieved with a constellation of 288 satellites, which they aim
to launch between the years 2000 and 2002.

Further, digital technology now makes it possible for one analogue channel
to be compressed into as many as twelve digital channels, and that
translates into thousands of channels available anywhere in the world. Just
where this maelstrom of media will lead is a matter of conjecture, but soon
anyone with even a basic digital television will have instantaneous,
interactive access to those thousands of channels. Consider that even today
from Lome, Togo, for example, with the right television set you can tune
into a USA home shopping network and if you see something you want, use
your American Express card to buy it on-screen. Even though credit
approval involves a 46 000 mile journey over telephones and computers, the
whole transaction can be completed in about five seconds.

Technology has accelerated growth in many fields-communications, science,

medicine and biology-at such dizzying rates that the sophistication of our
tools has far outstripped our moral and ethical ability to handle them
properly. The dilemma is particularly pronounced in broadcast, however, by
virtue of its omnipresence. While only forty-three percent of American
households have computers, for example, ninety-seven percent have
televisions. More than sixty-eight million American homes have a cable
television service, and that means revenues for programmers who can
command the attention of the viewer.

As the viewership of a programme increases, it becomes more valuable in

terms of bringing in advertising revenue. Broadcasters are consequently
desperate for programmes that will attract and hold the attention of large
numbers of viewers. Spiritual programmes might be able to achieve this,
but as very little has ever been done with the concept, there is little
evidence to support its commercial viability. The majority of programmers
choose the more predictable audience winners such as sex, violence,
profane language, adult situations, gossip, crude humour and anything else
that elevates mediocrity. In children's television, such disturbing images
risk permanent damage on impressionable minds and hearts.

Television: A crisis of content

Children's television
To attract children's viewership to their programmes, many producers use
two formulas. One is 'I've-got-an-attitude' programmes, epitomised by
Nickelodeon's line-up of mindless game shows and ill-mannered animated
characters. The other is a range of programmes flaunting vulgar and explicit
sex, foul language and crude behaviour. To a large extent the tactics are
working: children watch it and think they love it. That in turn creates high
ratings, which generate more money from advertisers.

Vulgarity is most evident in programmes such as South Park, the most

popular programme on American cable television. This show features four
dirty-talking children who poison Granddad, promote a boxing match
between Jesus and Satan, and converse with a talking pile of stool called
'Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo.' The next most popular programme on cable
television in America is professional wrestling, which boasts as many
children as adult viewers. The most popular new programme among
American teenagers is a series called Dawson's Creek. In this programme a
high-school boy, who plays the leading character in Dawson's Creek has a
sexual affair with his English teacher. Another boy, a football player, is
mocked by some girls for being impotent. TheJerry Springer Show, a
daytime talk show that also targets teenagers, features guests who reveal
their sexual betrayals and then beat each other up. Springer is now
challenging Oprah, a popular but less sensationalist talk show, for first
ranking in daytime television. Adding to the pile of electronic junk food is
Howard Stern, a radio talk-show host known as the king of 'shock-jocks,'
who recently announced he would begin a television version of his
controversial radio show. The statistics describe the situation succinctly:

Children and adolescents spend more time watching television than any
other activity other than sleeping.2
Annually, an American youngster watching television will be exposed to 12
000 acts of violence,3 14 000 sexual references,4 and nearly 20 000
commercials.5
By the time an American child graduates from high school, he or she will
have watched 15 000 hours of television compared with only 11 000 hours
spent in the classroom.6
Despite network claims to the contrary, more than 1 000 studies and
reviews now attest to the fact that heavy exposure to television violence
increases the likelihood of aggressive and anti-social behaviour, particularly
in males.7

Robert Lichter, director of the Centre for Media and Public Affairs in
Washington D.C., told The New York Times recently, 'I'd say there's been a
quantum leap downward this year in terms of adolescent, vulgar language
and attempts to treat sexuality in shocking terms. People used to complain
that television was aimed at the mind of a twelve-year-old. Now it seems
aimed at the hormones of a fourteen-year-old.'
Attempts are underway to get stations to adopt voluntary codes of conduct,
to restrict vulgar programming without fear of losing their competitive
edge, but the effort is meeting with an unexpected enemy-indifference.
Many parents think their children are discriminating enough not to be
influenced by television. Others worry about censorship: 'Popular culture is
so ubiquitous it's almost impossible to combat', Lichter remarked. 'It's like
the weather, everyone complains about it but no one does anything.
Perhaps in frustration over their inability to do anything, some parents
claim that they watch with their children and then talk about it. Lost in such
weak reasoning is the fact that children are effected by seeing vulgarity
glamourised on the screen.

The vacillating is enough to keep huge amounts of harmful children's

programmes on the air, and notwithstanding the few channels such as
Public Television or the BBC that continue to search for quality, paranoia
over religion has limited the offerings. 'Quality' in the eyes of programme
makers encompasses literature, 'real-life' issues and developmentally
appropriate content- but not spirit.

Lack of content for adults

Children are not the only ones to suffer from the lack of good television
programmes. Contrary to earlier predictions, the proliferation of channels
has not increased the quality of what is seen by grown-ups either. In his
book Life After Television, futurist George Gilder forecasts a golden era of
artistic expression, to be ushered in by the telecommunications explosion:
'A new age of individualism is coming, and it will bring an eruption of
culture unprecedented in human history.'8 Certainly, the balance has
shifted somewhat in favour of the artist or content-provider. Twenty-five
years ago, there were only three US networks: today, there are hundreds of
channels, hundreds of places to take an idea. That means however,
advertising revenue has been divided over a greater number of channels,
and that, in turn, means networks have less money to spend on
programmes. Television is churning out hundreds of hours of derivative,
uninspired, shallow programmes each week. The market is flooded with too
many grade-C films and too many programmes pandering to the same
prurient interests - in other words, lots of really bad TV.

The antidote for many broadcasters has come to be known as 'branded

programming': The Fishing Channel, The Food Channel, The Golf Channel,
The Gardening Channel, each catering to the specific interests of a
community of viewers who, programmers hope, will stay tuned and help
boost ratings and revenues. No channel yet, however, caters to the
interests of viewers seeking true spiritual content, and there is some
evidence that such a channel would be well received.

Spirit and media

I became a producer in 1982 when I returned to the USA after living in

Krishna temples for twelve years and discovered the world was raising
viewers, not readers. I wanted to use film and television to bring children
together with the experience of literature. The move away from literature
and toward electronic media was underlined by Paul LeClerc, president of
the New York Public Library who raised an interesting question: he
wondered if it would be possible today for a written work to have the
cultural effect that Goethe's Faust had in Europe in the early nineteenth
century. If not, he reflected,

then what we've seen is a huge shift in the relationship between

consumption and cultural output. In our day, with so much information
coming through the line, and with the constant necessity to shift between
the trivial and the important it's hard to imagine a single text having that
kind of impact. In the late twentieth century, we are a society that values
output, speed, and productivity, whereas art [and, one might argue,
spiritual introspection] requires time, reflection, tranquility, and space-all
commodities that are in limited supply these days.9

From this perspective, there would seem little hope for cooperation
between spirit and media. Some evidence, however, suggests that the two
have been mutually supportive in the past and might be configured to be so
even more in the years ahead.

A trend in the past

It is significant that the Bhagavad-gita begins with a spiritual transmission.
Blind King Dhritarastra and his secretary Sanjaya sit miles from the
battlefield of Kuruksetra. As events unfold, they are revealed to Sanjaya
from within his heart, and he then reports them to the king. The most
important scripture in all of Vedic culture as far as Vaishnavas are
concerned is, in effect, the transcript of a live transmission!

Is science not religion's sworn enemy? Is television not somehow

fundamentally anti- religious? According to David Noble author of The
Religion of Technology: The Divinity of Man and the Spirit of Invention,10
the answer is clearly no. 'The technological enterprise', he argues, 'has
always been an essentially religious endeavour.' Noble traces the religious
view of technology back to the early Middle Ages, when innovation became
associated with God's will and monasteries became centres of invention as
well as worship. The mechanical arts were not religion's enemy but its
instruments, helping to bring about a return to pre-Edenic paradise.
Giordano Bruno, who stood at the brink of modern science, considered them
to be a spur to spiritual evolution: 'Always, from day to day, by force of
necessity, from the depths of the human mind rose new and wonderful
inventions. By this means, separating themselves more and more from their
animal natures they climbed nearer the Divine Being.' 11

It is almost impossible to separate the religious impulse from early science.

Newton wrote commentaries on scripture. The English scientist Robert
Boyle wrote a treatise: Some Physico-Theological Considerations About the
Possibility of the Resurrection. Charles Babbage-widely known as the father
of the modern computer-believed that advances in the 'mechanical arts'
provide 'some of the strongest arguments in favour of religion.' The first
telegraph message was a biblical quotation: 'What hath God wrought', while
the machine's inventor, Samuel F.B. Morse, was a generous donor to
religious organisations. Oppenheimer quoted the Bhagavad-gita on seeing
the first atomic explosion. And Freemasonry, with its combination of
religious ritual and devotion to craft, has produced some of the most
prominent pioneers of science, particularly in the field of transportation.
Vaishnavas would argue it is not mastery over technology but over the
senses, that elevates us closer to God. Vaishnava history, however, boasts
its own tradition of technological innovators. In the nineteenth century,
Bhaktivinoda Thakura introduced use of the printing press to disseminate
the teachings of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu. His son Bhaktisiddhanta
Sarasvati Thakura, grandfather of the Krishna Consciousness movement,
sent sannyasi disciples (devotees of the renounced order) out preaching in
automobiles, much to the shock and dismay of the traditionalists who
undoubtedly thought, 'There goes the brahmanhood.'

His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, Founder-Acharya

of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, expanded the
acceptance of technology to its ultimate level: everything can be used in
service to God, he taught, expanding Vaishnava saint Rupa Goswami's
definition of renunciation as yukta-vairagya, or freedom from the mentality
of proprietorship. Vaishnavism views all creation as essentially spiritual
energy (brahman), covered in this world by varying degrees of
forgetfulness. Spirit covered by forgetfulness is called matter. Matter
dovetailed in service to the Absolute regains its lost spiritual qualities. The
art of yoga, in Vaishnava terms, is the art of spiritualising everything
through engagement in devotional service (bhakti), and that would include
television. If we look to the Vedic scriptures, at least, there is no
impediment to a spiritual television network. But will people watch?

A trend in the present

It has become a clich that people are spiritually hungry: bored by
visionaries with exclusive handles on the truth, frustrated by traditional
religion's obfuscation, and hopeful of a fusion between religion and science.
The hunger does not always increase attendance in churches and temples,
but there is evidence that the public would support richer spiritual content
on television, which reflects growing belief in God and the existence of
miracles. A 1997 poll conducted in the USA reported seventy-one percent of
respondents as saying they never doubt the existence of God.12 In 1987,
the figure was sixty percent. The poll also found that sixty-one percent of
Americans believe miracles come from the power of God- an increase of
fourteen percentage points from 1987.

Some programmers are beginning to take note and cautiously respond with
programmes such as Touched by an Angel. For the most part, however,
television executives have not the slightest idea of what 'spiritual' means,
let alone how to make it into good television. The Media Research Centre
(MRC), a Christian media watchdog group, has for the past several years,
conducted studies of prime time entertainment, charting television's
treatment of religion. No ultimate conclusions can be drawn from these
studies; the data suggests, however, that religion on television is portrayed
more favourably, more often, and to greater viewer satisfaction than in
years gone by.

In its December 1997 report, the MRC observed a near four-fold increase in
the total incidences of religious content in prime time American television
programmes. MRC analysts studied virtually all 1996 prime time
entertainment programmes on the six major networks (about 1 800 hours)
and discovered that the ratio of positive to negative portrayals of religion
was about two-to-one, a large improvement over the 1995 survey margin.
The MRC concluded its report with a recommendation that networks try to
duplicate the success of Touched by an Angel, which ranks among the
highest-rated programmes on TV, by airing other faith-friendly programmes
that show the importance of religion to everyday Americans. 'Whether it's a
child praying before bedtime or a family attending a service', the report
says, 'religion is an indispensable part of life for tens of millions, and prime
time's fully recognising this would be most welcome.'

This well-intending but nave report fails to recognise that showing a child
praying before bedtime is a lovely image, but it is a patch on a broken arm.
We are facing a crisis of faith and morality. What people fear most in media
is being misled, and every time an evangelist such as Jimmy Swaggart or Jim
Baker is exposed for not practising what he preaches it feeds that fear, and
ratings for religious programmes drop a few more points. Religion has an
image problem. Media is both the cause and the potential cure; but it will
take skilled producers and engaging programmes, not pretty nativity
scenes, for television to inspire viewers spiritually. Pat Robertson did not
know how to achieve that and ended up selling his Family Channel to Fox,
where it is now in the hands of the enlightened beings who brought us
Power Rangers and Beetle Borgs.

It is worth noting that in their thirst for spiritually satisfying programmes,

seekers have abandoned television and turned to the Internet. 'The Net
encompasses many strange things, but those who use it often and
understand it well know it has a rich and haunting mystical side', writes Jon
Katz, media critic for Wired Magazine. He goes on to say:

Along with pornographers and teenagers, it attracts deeply religious people

of countless denominations engaged in extraordinary searches into their
own and others' souls. Ascetics, heretics, and true-believers searching for
God (or his or her equivalent) flourish in zines, religious and mystical
conferences, and on bulletin boards . . .The business of sending and
receiving messages has always been a core notion of mysticism and
spirituality. Countless millions believe, or want to believe, that there are
larger forces at work in the universe. And they want to chat with them.13

Those millions of Internet users might return to watching television if they

heard someone had started a truly spiritual television network.

Spiritual television-tricky but achievable

The tricky parts

When we speak of spiritual television, we need to draw a distinction
between commercial fluff (miracle cures, near-death experiences, close-
encounters with the Almighty) and carefully-crafted, compelling
programmes that respect scriptural wisdom and convey the tenets of
authentic religious traditions. The Global Network in the UK and The
Millennium Television Network based out of Hawaii and Santa Monica, both
still in formative stages, seek to achieve a kinder, gentler television that
would provide entertainment along with exposure for issues such as human
rights, and the contributions of indigenous peoples. This is 'earth-friendly'
and a step in the right direction, but different from a spiritual network
seeking to communicate scriptural truths in viewer-friendly form.
Truly spiritual television is possibly a twenty-first or twenty-second century
concept being forced into existence now by the 'autocatalytic' nature of
technology. When we design a faster computer, it lets us create an ever-
faster one, each innovation hastening the next, creating an ever-increasing
rate of change. In the race to keep up, quality of content is lost. Quantity is
what matters, the ability to churn out enough television to fill the gaping
maw of thousands of channels broadcasting twenty-four hours every day.
And that is a concern that must be addressed-how can we serve the
religious experience with a television network that will not fall prey to the
commercial lures and artistic temptations of Hollywood? This is no small
dilemma. No doubt, programmes can be created that would be both good
scripture and good viewing because the technology and the creative talent
are both available. What is doubtful, however, is our own moral stamina to
resist the temptations of ego that are the constant travelling companions of
entertainment. Several people in my experience, who started out well
intending and spiritually aware, fell victim to the allures, posturings and
rhetoric of the Hollywood establishment. Somewhere along the way, they
suffered a loss of vision, and their original ambition of bringing spirit to
television and film became just plain ambition. The religious experience
must never be stylised or allowed to become fodder to satisfy a craving for
entertainment. History and literature have already been victimised by that
craving, and precautions are needed to avoid a similar experience with
bringing scripture to screen.

The bastardisation of History

Hollywood has blurred the line between history and historical fiction.
Steven Spielberg is a master storyteller, yet his recent film Amistad, to use
one recent case-in-point, has mistakenly been viewed as history. An
Amistad learning kit is being distributed to high school and college
teachers, encouraging them to use the film in classrooms. The study guide
erases the distinction between fact and fiction, urging students, for
example, to study the film's composite character Theodore Joadson, rather
than the real African- Americans on whom he is based.

The troubling assumption by the film's producers is that a subject does not
exist until Hollywood discovers it. Amistad is an interesting historical film,
but not in the way its producers intended. Like other history-based films,
Amistad tells us more about the time in which it was produced than the
events that it tries to portray. Birth of a Nation revealed more about the
racial prejudices of 1916 than about the Civil War; Oliver Stone's JFK
reflected more of post-Watergate anti-government sensibilities than
verifiable conspiracy. Gandhi was more about Richard Attenborough's
feeling for India than about the way independence actually came to that
nation. In Amistad, white Abolitionists are portrayed as self-righteous and
hypocritical, reflecting contemporary cynicism about broad social
movements when, in fact, the Abolitionists were largely responsible for
winning freedom for those aboard the Amistad.

For better or worse, those who make historical and biographical films are
fast becoming the most influential chroniclers of the past. In part, this is
because exposure to run-away technology has created a generation of
viewers rather than readers-people prefer their history on-screen more than
on the printed page. Filmmakers and television programmers are the
successors to the widely-read historians of yesterday, like Francis Parkman
and William H. Prescott. This would not be so troublesome if more of them
attempted to be respectful of historical truth.

The bastardisation of literature

A glance at the movie section of any newspaper tells us something else
about media today. We have as much a penchant for filmed versions of
literature as we do for filmed versions of history: The Wings of the Dove,
from Henry James's 1902 novel; Swept From the Sea, from Joseph Conrad;
Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens and almost any film by the Disney
animation studios. There has yet to be a film greater than the literary work
on which it was based. Perhaps that is because movies are the tribute
illiteracy pays to literacy: filmed classics allow people to experience the
forgotten delights of great literature without going to the trouble of
actually reading a book.

Will spirit and the search for the self fall victim to the same formulaic
reworking that has plagued history and literature? I believe that the
problematic nature of spiritual representation in media does not arise from
the temptation to make its reality aesthetically pleasing, as artistic
expression has played an important role in the spiritual experience
throughout history. Rather, the risk comes from the all too independent
nature of the aesthetic process. For television, the Internet or any form of
media to carry spiritual potency, content must be supervised by a council of
qualified spiritual leaders. If such a council were to work in tandem with a
community of like-minded programmers, directors, writers and producers,
then it might be possible to achieve what history and viewers, nauseated by
the overabundance of broadcast pabulum, have begun to demand: a place
on television where they can receive an accurate representation of the
spiritual experience in an engaging form.

The achievable parts

Entertainment today is an industry run by the Star Wars generation. While
they are not yet Jedi warriors, many talented artists and directors share a
sense that the world is more mysterious than their predecessors believed.
Star Wars itself, which established a new mythos for the post-war
generation, has at various times been described as a metaphor for the
tenets of Christianity, Buddhism, Judaism and Islam. 'The message of Star
Wars is religious. [It tells us] God isn't dead, He's there if you want him to
be. . .The major theme in Star Wars, as in every Lucas film, is the
acceptance of personal responsibility, of the fact that you can't run away
from your fate.'14 This is in scriptural terms, dharma or righteous duty-one
of many scripturally accurate ideas gaining favour in film and television.

The signs are everywhere that the public is ready for a true spiritual
network, from Star Wars to Touched by an Angel, to the abundance of
Buddhist films to emerge in the past two years; from the growing
disgruntlement over fundamentalism to the surge in populist spiritual
movements. There is a thread connecting publics of all persuasions- the
desire for an alternative to both Western materialism and religious
fundamentalism. Somebody in television is going to wake up and say, 'Hey,
that sounds like a channel to me.'

Spiritual television is achievable not because statistics say so, but because
it feels right, and that instinct is as important as any supporting data in this
industry. There is no science to show business: no rules, no formulas, no
simple equations for success. Behind nearly every media success there is a
combination of intuition, relationships, drive and karma (the result of past
actions). The odds are that same formula is the best justification for
launching a spiritual television network. 'Hollywood knows it's not a
business,' says Barry Sonnenfeld, director of The Adams Family and Men in
Black in a recent Los Angeles Times interview. 'That's why people in
Hollywood desperately want research and tracking charts, so they can feel
there is some structure and predictability. It allows the people who run
Hollywood to pretend it's a business. But what it's really about is guessing
and instinct. It's all in the ether.' What is palpably in the ether at the
moment is a spiritual open-mindedness among young audiences. Young
viewers are more sophisticated and more fickle. There is no pulling the wool
over the eyes of teenage television viewers -their visual instincts are
lightning-quick, sharpened by years of video games and channel surfing.
'They're much more visually astute', Sonnenfeld says, 'It's changed the way
we cut a movie because they get information so much faster having grown
up on MTV and commercials. They're used to getting stories and absorbing
them in thirty seconds.' A spiritual television network can be built because
the timing is right; spiritually-attuned people are in the business and know
how to make it look good; the public wants it; technology is finally available
that permits unearthly visions to be depicted cost-effectively, and because
of the abundance of quasi-spiritual mediocrity, the scene has been set for a
quality channel to garner wide viewership.

Twenty-four Hour Network verses a 'Nested' Channel

To launch a full-time network is an expensive proposition, requiring
probably $50 million to create enough original and licensed programming to
fill a twenty-four hour schedule seven days a week for the first year; build a
Master Control Room to handle the shuttling of programme tapes and
output the signal, and rent pace on a satellite that will bring the signal to
anyone with a dish.

A more economical way to launch a new network would be to 'nest' it inside

an existing network for three or four hours each day. This would only
require perhaps $5 million. The audience would be limited to whoever was
watching during those hours. As no one will want to rent their prime time
hours, the viewers of a 'nested' network would likely be either stay-at-
homes (noon to 4pm) or insomniacs (after midnight). This would limit
severely the amount of material that the channel could air (we certainly
would not be able to use the full contents of the schedule that is outlined
above) and this option would not enable us to meet our objective to provide
an alternative type of viewing for a more spiritually aware lifestyle at all
times of the day. Our wonderful Spiritual Network would be an after-thought
on The Fishing Channel.

If five sponsors put up $10 million, the full-time network could be built. So,
let us anticipate that five well-endowed churches were to join together and
finance a twenty-four hour network. Here is what we might see.

A spiritual television network: A sample

What is it that spiritual television has to offer viewers? Not fellowship or

association, which requires the conscious effort of going to a meeting
ground for the purpose of prayer, discourse and God-centred activity.
However, a spiritually centred television network could offer positive
messages, viewer comfort and it could help nurture a new community.

Positive messages. In an industry fuelled by violence, negative role models

and other negative messages, The Spiritual Network would provide good
news and practical tools for solving material problems with spiritual
answers, addressing the issues of today with the insights of spiritual
wisdom.
Viewer comfort. The channel would carry the seal of approval from various
denominations assuring that programmes are safe, non-sexist, free of racial
or religious stereotypes, and reinforcing positive values and authentic
spiritual practices.
A new community. A truly spiritual, ecumenical network would reflect the
culture of democracy. It would demonstrate the ability to walk outside the
conventional mechanisms of consumer society-sensationalist talk shows,
exploitative movies- and develop a different, more satisfying vehicle for
informing people. A big part of spiritual television will be its ability to
present the experiences of people in the shared enterprise of self-
awareness.

The Spiritual Network: Programme Schedule

4am - 6.30am: Morning services

Each of the sponsoring churches would have a half-hour slot for morning
services. This would serve the needs of specific communities, and we could
anticipate that viewers would 'visit' other services as well, contributing to a
healthy ecumenism among congregations that otherwise have little
interaction.

6am - 11am: Pre-school programming

No children's network currently on-air focuses on the power of storytelling.
Even those programmes that purport to be literature-based (PBS's
Wishbones, HBO's Tales for Every Child) rarely delve into traditional tales of
spiritual cultures. The attention spans of pre- schoolers are best suited to
brief, magazine format programming, and The Spiritual Network's unique
contribution would be a morning line-up of short segments based on the
characters and spiritual stories of the world's diverse peoples.

11am - 3pm: Daytime programming

Aimed primarily at women and older people who stay at home, the daytime
slot would offer profiles of people famous and unknown who have
effectively integrated spiritual practices into their lives. Women have their
own experiences, and The Spiritual Network would honour their unique
spiritual journeys with 'Voices of Women,' a forum for women committed to
God consciousness. Also in the daytime slot we could have cooking
programmes that demonstrate how to make food a part of life's spiritual
experience; non- exploitative talk shows focusing on the challenges and
ways of integrating spiritual life in the material world; travel programmes to
places of pilgrimage health programmes offering practical insights into well-
being as the result of a spiritually balanced worldview.

3pm - 5.30pm: After-school programming

Teen hosts would introduce younger viewers to award winning animated
and live-action films, approved by an evaluating organisation for content
and the age of the viewership. Each of the sponsoring churches would have
a day of programmes, or a joint committee could determine the week's line-
up from the many outstanding films, supportive of spiritual concepts,
available for license world-wide that have never had a place to call home on
television.

5.30 - 9pm: Family programming

Every evening, the network would offer viewers a variety of family fare such
as Storyteller, featuring distinguished storytellers in concert and interview;
feature films with follow-up discussions by representatives of the
sponsoring churches, and even game shows configured to the brand of The
Spiritual Network. Programmes such as Journeyman, a dramatic series could
also be shown, with characters that use spiritual wisdom instead of violence
to resolve conflict.

9pm- Midnight: Evening programming

Adult viewers would have a wide range of programmes in evening hours,
from biography- style documentaries to performances of dance and music,
to celebrity readings of great literary works (both fictional and scriptural),
to news analysis, to sitcoms and situational dramas-good viewing with a
spiritual underpinning.

Midnight - 4am: Late night

For insomniacs the network would offer spoken-word recordings featuring
noted artists reading great works, complemented by gentle video graphics.
No need to watch-the images of purling streams, mountain pastures, or
dawn over the Himalayas would be incidental to the listening experience.
This is what radio used to be, an all-night friend.

Weekend programming
Weekends would feature reruns of the week's best programmes, plus talk
shows, classes, sermons, lectures, 'World Beat' (a music and dance
programme for teens showcasing unusual East-West fusions and interviews
with featured artists) and local community access.

Financial Support
How would such a network be supported? A large portion of the funding
could come from big business. At some point in the not-too-distant future,
manufacturers and industry will recognise that their customers, the people
who keep them in business, want more than a faster, sexier car: they want
quality of life. If big business is to survive the next millennium, it will have
to demonstrate its appreciation for a higher quality of living-
environmentally conscious practices, diversity, women and children's rights-
in other words, the by- products of spiritual vision. Sponsoring The Spiritual
Network would be an excellent way for businesses to demonstrate that
vision to their customers. As the more enlightened companies grow (those
involved with recycled goods and alternative energy sources, for example)
they, too, will have discretionary cash and would likely support a television
network that reflects their values.

Conclusion
This article avoided dealing with some of the most difficult issues
surrounding the notion of a spiritual television network. How, for example,
would such an ambitious venture be governed? How ecumenical would it
be? Who would determine which denominations should be represented?
Would this be primarily for English-speaking countries? What would keep it
from becoming a battleground of ideologies? The challenge will be to create
an editorial board whose point-of-view serves a wide audience. The attempt
here was not to answer these complex questions but rather to suggest that
the time has come to ask them.

The pastoral life of Vrindavan (the place of Lord Krishna's passtimes that is
sacred to the Vaishnavas), where the most sophisticated article of
technology is a churning pot, beckons from beyond the electronic corner
into which we have painted ourselves. But the inner vision of that simpler,
more sublime eternal realm comes only after the lessons are learned, the
senses calmed, and our dormant love of God reawakened. Until then, our
darshan or vision of truth, might just arrive via satellite.

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