A bloodied and terrified U.S. soldier sits at a table, surrounded by guards. He is quietly crying, and a huge, discolored welt mars his boyish face. His bruises are new and severe enough to signal that he has recently been beaten by his captors. A foreign soldier, shadowy and impatient, circles the GI, his shoes scuffing on the ground beneath. Then a voice-over kicks in, firm and clear:
When questioned, should I become a prisoner of war, I am required to give only name, rank, service number and date of birth. I will evade answering further questions to the utmost of my ability. I will make no oral or written statements disloyal to my country and its allies or harmful to their cause.
As the words are spoken, we see the frightened GI share only the most basic of information with his interrogators. The foreign soldier slams his hand down on the table, demands that the GI sign the piece of paper in front of him. The GI flinches but makes no move to grab the pen. He stares forward blankly and braces for the worst. The foreign soldier leans in ominously.
And then the commercial ends.
It's a scary, effective ad, but it isn't selling anything: This spot, like thousands of others, appears on the American Forces Network (AFN), the Department of Defense's sponsor-free television feed to soldiers around the globe. AFN's stations show the top-rated programs in the United States -- from Everybody Loves Raymond to NFL football to (yes) The West Wing -- but the shows do not include traditional commercial advertising. This is largely because the military provides AFN as a service to the troops, not a profit-making enterprise. Because AFN does not allow traditional advertising, program suppliers, as a charitable gesture, provide the network with their shows at greatly reduced costs.
So instead of looking to advertisers, the military fills program breaks with its own product. And it's gotten pretty creative. Among the spots currently appearing on AFN are segments, such as the one above, providing vivid illustrations of what personnel should do in case they are captured; reminders on the importance of paying your bills; darkly lit, somber warnings about child and spousal abuse; and news reports that could easily be called propaganda. AFN's reach is impressive: If the military invades Iraq and sets up camp outside Baghdad, a soldier with a relatively small satellite dish and a decoder can have AFN up and running in a matter of hours. And though they generally refuse to censor the programming, the top brass use the reach of the network -- and the spots it broadcasts -- to influence the thoughts and actions of American soldiers in the field worldwide.
There are roughly 3,000 spots currently in the library at the American Forces Radio and Television Office (AFRTS), which oversees AFN. Two hundred of those are "scenic filler" spots -- rustic footage of national parks, for example, or the Alaskan wilderness. Another 800 come from government agencies or the Ad Council (the leading producer of public-service announcements), and the final two thirds come straight from AFRTS. What ultimately goes on the air is directly related to the requests of high-ranking officials: If a theater commander in Europe, for example, believes his soldiers have problems with drinking and driving, he will request that a drinking and driving spot that has been airing four times each week get shown 20 times per week. Alternatively, a general might manipulate the frequency of spots to promote blood donation or stem an outbreak of sexual harassment.
AFRTS only spends about $25,000 to produce each spot, a far cry from the more than $330,000 spent on a typical commercial. The budget constraints sometimes show. One recent spot -- which explains the health-care options available to soldiers and their families -- features bike-riding couples coming to a fork in the road. The left arrow points to one health-care option; the right arrow to another. As a voice-over explains the difference between the two paths, the sun-bathed actors smile and nod. It's the kind of thing that would elicit scorn from a cash-flush ad exec, not to mention a collective yawn from audiences.
But some of the spots are surprisingly effective -- and surprisingly direct. One features Air Force Pilot Gen. Robbie Risner, who was a prisoner of war for seven years in Vietnam, discussing how his refusal to make anti-American statements earned him extra torture. Another shows a father and son watching a violent news report; the father, who is about to be deployed, is trying to allay his son's fears. The spot looks a little hokey, but only the most jaded viewer could sit through it unaffected.
The one- and two-minute news reports, on the other hand, are about as close as AFN comes to outright propaganda. These spots tend to gloss over the big news of the day -- say, for example, massive worldwide anti-war protests -- in favor of "newsworthy" events such as Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz appearing before a subcommittee to explain that the military is ready for battle.
"It's no different than what Wal-Mart does from their corporate headquarters," says Master Sgt. John Massad of AFRTS. "They have a television feed so that they can get their message out there, and we do the same thing."
One of the more entertaining spots features an actor, dressed in combat fatigues, wandering through the television studio and explaining why AFN shows programming that "might not be supportive of military or family values." The network gets complaints about almost everything it does -- one viewer recently claimed that the appearance of a "tasteful shack" in a West Virginia scenic filler spot "perpetuated hillbilly stereotypes" -- and showing programs such as The Osbournes doesn't help. A sizable percentage of AFN viewers believe that the network should be something along the lines of PAX TV, replete with Touched By An Angel reruns and Dick Van Dyke movies. To their credit, the folks at AFRTS have made their programming decisions on the basis of a show's popularity, not its politics, choosing to air such programs as Will and Grace over less controversial -- and less highly rated -- material.
AFN's enlightened philosophy only goes so far, however. While it will air spots warning against teenage pregnancy, it has yet to address a major issue in military life: the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. One person at AFRTS told me it was unnecessary for the network to explain that topic to viewers "because it was such common knowledge." The brass also recently shelved a "save the whales" spot that was deemed insufficiently relevant to the troops. In the military, it seems, whales have nothing on the shacks of West Virginia, and no one needs to be reminded not to come out of the closet.
Brian Montopoli is a writer in Washington, D.C. His work can be found at www.brianmontopoli.com.
