60 Minutes is by far the most popular public-affairs program in the history of American television. Recently there has been a flood of articles about the show—and about Mike Wallace in particular. Most have celebrated 60 Minutes‘ success, but have also wondered aloud whether Wallace and his colleagues aren’t becoming a little too aggressive. The US Supreme Court has also mused upon the show’s cheeky independence; this year it ruled that the plaintiff in a libel suit had the right to probe “the state of mind” of Wallace and his producer, in order to evaluate how fairly they made their editorial decisions.
Since television has become so many people’s daily newspaper, favorite entertainer, most reliable babysitter, and cheapest tranquilizer (not to mention its primary function as ingratiating salesman), it’s crucial that we question the tube’s influence. But it is the medium’s essential timidity—not its brash, tick-tick-tick, microphone-in-the-face reporting style—that demands scrutiny. Alas, the print journalists who report on television journalists are usually working for similar (if not the same) corporate employers. Fundamental questions that they should ask have been taboo for so long that there’s no need for censorship.
