a OPINION -. - - . . . w . . 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 Wasserman \E yoU ooR NA'TiONS WANT O (EAtE t LANCE OF TRA9E EQULBR\UM, IOMNS, NERE'S 'MAT WE WANT TO SEE- P'2PoV ATE CURENCY DJUSTMENTS... '7; ) y AN A MFJD TO WNIJDOES SUBIDZE CNSPI- t LTR EAT LESS o- 1 jl 1 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.