ECCE

eVols at University of Hawaii at Manoa

TUNING· INMany years ago I read only one newspaperand was satisfied with myself and the world.It was a l'!maU-town paper and had veryclear-cut human principles which fascinatedme. The closed-in world of this newspaperwas identical with my conception of the world.The paper gave me something to cling to; itgave me matter for thought as well as infor-mation; and its judgments were also mine. Iknew the editor personally, and I read hisweeki y editorials regularly j I liked the clean,simple, and unshakeable convictions I foundin them.The news section, too, of this paper, seemedto me to be beyond doubt. If there was areport that a circus would be showing in thenext town one could be sure that it would bethere. Just as faithfUlly correct were thecourt-room reports. No one in the neighbor-hood had any doubt that a man branded bythis paper as a swindler was a rogue.Yet one day the ground fell away fromunder my feet. For Christmas an uncle ofmine gave me a subscription to a newspaperwith a nation wide circulation. The clearmirror of my gullibility broke, and with it theDeatly rounded off world of my newspaper andof my imagination. The great world suddenlylooked quite different.I had bgen driven from Paradise, and eversince I have felt the heavy burden of thecurse that had been placed upon me. I chasedafter versions, interpretations, and tendencies,in the hope of finding-perhaps on a moreintellectul\ llevel-huth and peace of mind. SoonI was reading not only two papers, but ten,twelve, fifteen a day, and umpteen periodicals.With every newspapor and periodical Iadded to my reading, I goot further and furtheraway from the truth and a well-balancedconception. The world was torn asunder, andan unholy confusion raged in me.Finally things became altogether too topsy-turvy anJ senseless for me, and I decided toturn my back on all newspapers. Since thenI don't read any paper at all. Let everybodybe happy in his own way.For a while I was conscious of the reliefafforded by the deep silence around me. Nonewspapers! And no reformers of world andmen I But he who has once left Paradise cannever regain it. This relief of deep silencewas soon replaced by a consuming boredomand a torturing curiosity. Inskead of silencethere was emptiness, yawning emptiness, andI realized that it was impossible to live one'slife on a peaceful, isolated hiland.In order not to return to newspapers as asource of news and informatIOn, I bought aradio. With this modern instrument I hopedto conjure up the voices of the world in mypeaceful room. The fairy of distance was tobewitch the world into a magic lantern of mymind. I had great expectations of the spokenword, of the human voice, which surely mustbe different from printer's ink.How wrong I was! I jumped out of thefrying-pan into the fire. While in the caseof newspapers, in spite of all the confusion,I had after all bee.n dealing only with thepapers of a single country, now the spokenviews of the whole world came rushing at mefrom all sides. But I made up my mind toput up with it this time, so that I might notentirely desert this exciting world. I decidedscientifically to investigate this radio pro-paganda. Although I did not believe that liescould be entirely banished from the world, Iwanted at least to discover the limits to thepossibility of deception, perhaps to stumbleupon the truth of lies.I know my radio set, and I know thewave - lengths of the important transmittersin the world. I have long overc. me the so-caUed technical difficulties of tuning-in. Ofcourse I cannot do anything about the inevit-able atmospheric disturbances and I acceptthem philosophically as an act of Providence.What else could I do? But I am annoyed bythe artificial, deliberate interference from the"other side." Every station has its enemy, justas every human being is envied and opposed.The first thing I discovered was that everystation has its personal note which, Quite asidefrom the language, shows the mentality of thecountry to which the station belongs, togetherwith all its worries, troubles, intentions, andjoys. From an American station a differentspirit fills the ether than, for example, froma German transmitter. And a Japanese stationagain is different from a Russian or Indianor Chinese one.The range of radio propaganda is muchwider than that of printer's ink. Just as everynewspaper has its face, so has every radio-station too. Indeed, it has more: it has itaown color and its own tone. It requires afine and delicate sense to hear it properly. If,in the case of newspapers, one need only readbetween the lines to find the hidden meaning,in the case of radio •••• Here the difficultiesTUNING-IN '11begin. The ether has no lines to read between.Radio demands far great"r concentration anddevotion by its readers-beg pardon, listeners.A good announcer must be a good aetor orspeaker who, as an artist, really lives thematerial he has to deliver. Through the viva-city and realism of his voice and delivery hegives the impression of authenticity but carriesaway his listeners. Indeed, he often onlymakes the material interesting to his listenersthrough his voice. However clear and unequi-vocal the written text may be, a good announceris capable of giving this text, through hisvoice, a completely different meaning, withoutchanging a single word.Every day I am kept busy by about tenstations, mostly during the evening and at night.There are some stations I feel an affectionfor, and their announcers have become my goodfriends. Among the stations some are interest-ing, some boring, some are harmless and somevicious, Borne are on their toes, and othersalways just miss the bus, some are accurateand some not so particular about the truth.I recognize the diffcre.nt stations by thevoices of their announcers, just as on thetelephone one recognizes by the voice who isat the other end. I also know approximatelythe way the mind of each announcer works.For example, there Is the announcer of theLondon B.aC. station: I have no idea what hereaIJ1100ks like, but I imagine him to bo tall.He is a self-assured man, and very matter-of-fact. His voice is clear and distinct and betraysno trace of passion. He never stumbles. Coldlyhe tells lIometimes the truth and, just as coldly,lIometimes an untruth as if it were the truth.The voice Is that of a gentleman, rather severe.like that ot a superior Britbh oUieor in thocolonie..An entirely diltcrent type is" ropre!lentedby the annonncer 01 the American stationKGEI. He is a hearty fellow, who almostcertainly makes violent. movementa uC the bodywhile sJ>Caking. ilia voice BOl1nds slightlyadmonitory. as, indeed. with IIlJ\DY Americanspeakers. It ill the voice ot a reporter used tosending out sensational news into the world,hurrying, lively, with a decidedly (ptimillticundertone. It knows neither punctuation norpause for breath; is not at all melodramaticbut nevertheless rich in modulation. it soundslike the yells from the bleachers of a baseballgame. It seems to report wi thout any sem-blance of order. But the careful Iistener feelsthat this medley is well-prepared, that th~eis method behind it.I also listen with pleasure to the KbabarovskRV15 transmitter. The announcer seems tobe a regular fellow, at least judging by hisvoice: it thunders through the ether, loud,powerflll, and clear. I am sure that, whenspeaking, he often clenches his fist and isalmost carried away by his own words: heeven outdoes himself. He scems to carry aUof Siberia within himself as a sounding.board.He is one of the announcers one can reallyunderstand without diffkulty i for he speaksslowly and will 1I0t be hurried. I am sure hedoes not perspire while speakinll; one is con-scious of his reserves of strength. His voiceis unaffected and deep: a Russian bass!Besides this man the Khabarovllk stationa]lIo has a llirl who announces. As a rule I donot care for women announcers, since nearlyall of them have something pretentious intheir voices. But this girl is an exception:her voice is 80ft and undulating, very agree-able, with something refined and womanlyabout it. She really should not speak about• subjeet 80 full of horron .. politics. butrather about farming or care of children. Iti. an ideal voice for a kindergarten teacher.What a pity that television is not more wide-spread, for I should like to have a look atthat 4irl, especially at her eyes-they mustbe sad but shining.I have just remembered that I have notyet told you my name. Every lltation haa aname mado up of some mysterious letters.Why should I not have one? I christen my-sel! with the calling -letters :ECCE.

Tuning-in

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Tuning-in

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