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OPINION
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Page 6
Vol. XCIV, No. 30-S
94 Years of Editorial Freedom
Managed and Edited by Students at
The University of Michigan
Editorials represent a majority opinion of the
Daily Editorial Board
Two steps back at FCC
S INCE 1953, the Federal Communications
Commission has forbidden any person or
corporation from owning more than seven
television stations. The idea was to use
federal regulations to encourage diversity
in local ownership and programming, and to
construct an absolute barrier to any one in-
dividual or organization from gaining a
stranglehold over an incredibly powerful
medium. Last week, in a remarkable and con-
troversial reversal of that policy, the FCC
voted to raise the single ownership limit to 12
immediately, and to discontinue the rule
altogether in 1990.
Supporters of the change marshalled a
number of arguments to defend the new
regulations. They claimed the number of new
radio and television stations had increased
dramatically since the era in which the
regulation was spawned, and that this new
competition has eliminated the fears of
monolithic control over the nation's airwaves.
They argue that, should an unacceptable
grouping of stations develop, existing federal
anti-trust laws will be sufficient to a deal with
the problem.
These arguements, while they may carry
some strength on a theoretical level, ignore
the practical realities and unique charac-
teristics of the broadcast industry. Com-
petition has increased and technological ad-
vances have made television stations
somewhat easier to start, but a basic charac-
teristic limiting potential for a free market in
television stations remains: The number of
channels in any given market is fixed.
This means that the ability of entrepeneurs
- frustrated either by high prices for adver-
tising or inadequate broadcast journalism -
to start competing stations is severely resric-
ted. Individuals or organizations with access
to large amounts of capital may have an in-
centive to manipulate this shortage of stations
to their advantage.
The presence of anti-trust laws is not terribly
reassuring. While the potential awards to anti-
trust plaintiffs can be enormous, antitrust
litigation is notoriously difficult and protrac-
ted.
Local television programming has
developed into a powerful force in American
society. Its independent character--largely the
product of the FCC restrictrions overturned
last week - has contributed significantly to
political and social pluralism. This indepen-
dence is much too important to be left to the
unpredictable forces of the market and the
vagaries of antitrust law. The nation was bet-
ter served by the old rule.
Sunday, July 29, 1984 The Michigan Dail
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Lookingforfeminism in Argentina
By Naomi Saferstein
BUENOS AIRES, ARGEN-
TINA - "How old are you?"
asked Senora Carmensita.
"Me? I'm only 18. I'll be 19 in
October."
THE SENORA clasped her
hands, pursed her lips, and shook
her head slightly. "It's time," she
said.
"Time? Time for what?"
"Time for you to start looking
for a husband."
I started laughing, waiting for
Senora Carmensita to join in
momentarily. She didn't..
"Marriage? Man, I'm only 18.
Give me 10 years." The senora
scowled. "OK, OK At least eight
- there's a lot of things I want to,
do first," I said.
HER SCOWL grew, her eyes!
squinted, and she placed both her
hands on her hips. "Things? Does
that mean sex?" she asked ac-1
cusingly.
Of course that was part of it,,
though I didn't tell the senora.
For at 30, most married women
are concerned with finding their
G-spot. At 18, I'm still not sure I
have one.
The Senora Carmensita went
on to tell me the joys of marrying
at a young and tender age. How
you can get more critical and
things sour as you rise in years.
Ah, for the beauty of youth, she
said. I agreed. Glad my youth
was still beautiful, very glad that
I was still single.
A FEW DAYS ago, I was
speaking to a young man I met on
the bus real Che Gueveraesque.
In our conversation, he referred
to me as a girl. Carefully, I ex-
plained to him that at six, I was a
girl. At 18, I'm a woman. He un-
derstood much better than I ex-
pected. I was quite proud of my
Spanish, being able to explain the
semantic nuances of a language
such as English. But as we got off
the bus, I found that the nuances
my friend understood were far
from semantic. He had his own
definition of what a woman was,
an American woman.
Thus, through trials and
tribulations such as these, I have
concluded that feminism, at least
as I know it, is an American
phenomenon. Here, no one has
heard of Doris Lessing, Sylvia
Plath, Alice Walker, though they
are familiar with the women's
room. Not the book, but the term.
However here, the "women's
room" doesn't refer to the
bathroom, but to the kitchen,
where the women spend the
majority of their time. There is a
commercial on TV for a vacuum
cleaner saying it's the best thing
that's happened to the woman
since they invented the washing
machine. Ninety percent of the
women I've met can't wait to buy
one.
WHILE IN THE States, my
father's girlfriend tried to
forewarn me of Latin customs.
"Look at it this way," she said.
"The men and women have dif-
ferent jobs. He works to earn
money to buy her what she wants,
and she takes care of the house,
and the kids, and cooks. Why
your father, he really loves the
custom," she said smiling,
looking at her new
microwave-bought just last
week.
That's right, no one here is bur-
ning their bras over here in
Buenos Aires, nor their to-the-
bellybutton briefs, support hose,
or girdles. Tia Porota, the elderly
woman with whom I've been
living, almost had a baby when
she asked me if I have any un-
derwear to wash and I said no. I
rarely wear any. Next day for
breakfast, I was served coffee,
fruit, cheese, and a pair of cotton
briefs-white.
It has taken me years to put
together my idea of style, the
clothes I think "groovy", only to
come halfway around the world
to find I dress like a boy. But Tia
Porota and all her matronly
friends are very subtle about in-
flicting their fashion ideas. They
take me from store to store, win-
dow to window, telling me how
nice that pastel pink blouse, the
one with the frills, would look
with my hair (which, I've been
told, desperately needs a cut, a
style). The daisy one with the
bow would be nice too. And, low
and behold, in their purses just
happened to have matching
blush, lipstick, and eye pencil,
just in case I might want to wear
some make-up too.
I say no thank you, put my han-
ds in the pockets of my Harry's-
Army-Surplus pants and go off to
the next window-wondering
what they'd say if I, like the
majority of my friends (both men
and women), didn't shave my
legs.
The next evening, for the
benefit of Tia Porota and wanting
to avoid another hassle, I put on a
dress, make up, the works. As I
walk out of my room, she looks
around, brings her hands to her
mouth, and exclaims, "Oh! Who
is that pretty girl?" I smile, this
time thinking it best not to clarify
that I'm not a girl, I'm a woman.
Saferstein is a Daily staff
reporter.