Mike Fright

The last of France's spring strikes--that of the state-owned television industry--ended last week, or so Prime Minister Couve de Murville proclaimed to the National Assembly. But the 14 million Frenchmen who own TV sets could not really tell for sure. Paris' Huntley and Brinkley--Pierre Dumayet and Pierre Desgraupes--as well as all of the other news regulars, remained off the air. Filling in for the eighth straight week were sketchy, scab-produced newscasts and a veritable festival of test patterns, canned variety shows and film antiques.

The official government euphemism was that programming was to be kept "light" to "put the French in a vacation spirit." The fact, however, was that 114 newsmen and producers of the O.R.T.F. (Office de Radio et Television Franc,ais) were on a paid holiday until September pending what Couve called "a profound reorganization." Their wages had been raised 13%, but the TV strike issue had been government censorship, not money. That complaint was still unresolved.

Dusty Grind. Government control has always plagued French broadcasting, but under the regime of Charles de Gaulle, censorship has been particularly tight and unyielding. A few hours after the student riots erupted, for example, newscasts on O.R.T.F.'s two TV channels casually observed that the troublemakers had returned to their books and all was safe and snug in the land. Then, as turmoil mounted, TV newsmen prepared a two-hour report on undergraduate unrest, but minutes before it was to be aired, the government suppressed it.

Even under normal circumstances, French TV is hardly much livelier than the test pattern. Save for an occasional penetrating documentary or a good movie, programming is a dusty grind of westerns, inane quiz shows, and U.S. imports, such as Les Incorruptibles (The Untouchables) and Mission: Impossible.

News programs are devoted interminably to coverage of Cabinet meetings or scenes of officials dedicating schools and swimming pools. The International Herald Tribune described them as "the special kind of news in which the United States is alternately in the hands of race rioters or drum majorettes, where England is a country of eccentric peers, a sinking currency and constant tea breaks, and where France is a happy, if intensely boring, land whose only worry is that some damned foreigners might win a soccer match."

The seizing of the Pueblo prompted a report depicting North Korea as a nation devoted to peace and progress, while South Korea, which has "lived in the American style since 1953," was shown rife with corruption, unemployment and prostitution. On another news show, 'a commentator contemptuously suggested that to discourage bombing, the Viet Cong should put U.S. prisoners in factories and villages--because "Americans have a great deal of humanity for themselves."

Ultimate Purge. Newsmen have never been allowed to put penetrating questions to government officials. Instead, the routine suggestion is: "Please explain your program to the viewers." Where Gaullist drum beating is given plenty of time, opposition leaders are permitted to appear only fleetingly, and usually in a background still photo while a droning announcer reads their carefully edited words. On his return to France recently, Georges Bidault said at a press conference: "I ask you to vote against the Communists and against the Gaullists." Later, French radio quoted him as saying only: "I ask you to vote against Communism."

In his address to the Assembly last week, Couve de Murville promised "to ease up the structures to provide more abundant and objective information." But the satirical weekly Canard Enchaine was less sanguine. Fearing that many of the most conscientious O.R.T.F. newsmen will ultimately be purged, the journal asked, "Why has De Gaulle pardoned [General Raoul] Salan but continues to refuse to pardon the TV newsmen? Because Salan only took up arms and the newsmen are asking for free speech. Speech is De Gaulle's special domain. One must not forget that he carried out his hardest campaigns and his most brilliant successes over the air. To touch his microphone is to stab at his heart."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.