When the United Nations General Assembly declared November 21 as World Television Day in 1996, it acknowledged a profound truth: no invention of the twentieth century altered human perception, culture, politics, and daily life as dramatically as television. Decades after its arrival, the debate still persists — is television an “idiot box” that numbs thought or a “magic box” that enlightens? Perhaps, as Marshall McLuhan suggested when he declared that “the medium is the message,” television is both. It did not merely transmit information; its very presence reshaped social behaviour, cultural memory, and the architecture of public opinion.
McLuhan saw television as an extension of human senses — especially sight and sound - and argued that it draws viewers into shared experiences. Calling it a “cool medium,” he claimed that television demands participation and emotional involvement. Unlike the printed word, which encourages intellectual distance, television pulls viewers into an immersive stream of sights, sounds, and narratives. It collapses physical distances, forges communities of viewers, merges cultures, and turns the idea of a “global village” into lived reality.
India witnessed this phenomenon vividly in the late 1980s, when Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayana aired. It became perhaps the largest communication experiment the world had ever seen. Streets emptied, markets paused, and families gathered with neighbours in front of a single screen. For 45 minutes every Sunday morning, a vast and diverse country shared one emotional universe. Long before hashtags or trending topics existed, television created collective memory.
It acted as an informal educator, shaping values and identities simply through the act of watching together.
Television also transformed geopolitics by bringing distant conflicts into ordinary living rooms. The 1991 Gulf War, broadcast live by CNN, was a turning point. For the first time in history, a global audience watched a war unfold in real time. The missiles streaking across the Baghdad sky were not abstract reports but immediate visuals. A shopkeeper in Kerala or a bus conductor in Jaipur could suddenly grasp the complexities of oil politics, military alliances, and global power dynamics. Television shrank the world and democratised access to events previously confined to diplomats and policymakers.
Yet globalisation also came with a price. Through television, cultures blended but often blurred. Fashion, food, humour, and lifestyle began to travel across borders at unprecedented speed. A child raised on Shaktimaan could easily switch to Captain Planet. The liberalisation era of the 1990s intensified this transformation. Satellite channels shattered Doordarshan’s monopoly, and suddenly dozens of private networks competed for attention. News became aggressive and fast-paced, entertainment diversified, and ideological contests found a new arena.
Television was no longer just cultural; it was deeply political.
This is where Noam Chomsky’s Manufacturing Consent becomes relevant. Chomsky and Edward Herman argued that mass media in capitalist democracies often function as subtle propaganda systems serving elite political and economic interests. Their “propaganda model,” built around media ownership, advertising dependence, political alliances, official sourcing, and pressures against dissent, remains remarkably applicable. In many countries, including
India, most large news channels are owned by business conglomerates or groups aligned with political power. Editorial lines often reflect these interests.
Through its agenda-setting role, television determines which issues dominate public discourse. Media may not dictate what viewers must think, but it certainly tells them what topics deserve thought. This is evident in how debates are framed, which controversies receive disproportionate coverage, and which uncomfortable realities are ignored. Sensationalism, polarisation, and ideological rigidity increasingly define the modern TV environment — a phenomenon critics describe as “Murdochism.”
Yet despite its flaws, television retains an emotional force that few other media can match. It creates national moments that bind millions — a cricket victory, an election night, a cyclone, a scientific breakthrough, or a leader’s address. These events forge shared emotion and collective memory. In those moments, McLuhan’s global village comes alive again. Television also changed political communication forever. Franklin Roosevelt’s fireside chats showed how leaders could bypass intermediaries and speak directly to citizens. In India too, televised addresses create national moments of collective listening. Television becomes a bridge between rulers and the ruled, shaping perceptions in real time.
But the arrival of OTT platforms has disrupted this familiar landscape. The magic box moved from drawing rooms to personal screens. Streaming services offer global content, creative freedom, niche genres, and personalised viewing.
OTT platforms free content from geography, censorship structures, and rigid broadcasting schedules. Television has expanded into a vast digital ecosystem, no longer confined to a single box.
Still, traditional television retains remarkable relevance. Rural regions continue to depend on it. Election campaigns revolve around prime-time debates. Sporting events remain collective spectacles watched live. And in moments of crisis — from pandemics to wars - millions still turn to television for credible updates. Television’s future lies in a hybrid world where satellite broadcasting, OTT platforms, AI, and interactive technologies coexist. But its core responsibility remains unchanged: to uphold truth, diversity, and credibility in an era saturated with noise.
Calling television an “idiot box” oversimplifies its influence. Used irresponsibly, it can mislead. But used responsibly, it informs, educates, unites, and inspires.
On this World Television Day, as screens glow across cities and villages, it is worth remembering that television has not merely shown us the world — it has shaped it. It has brought wars, epics, revolutions, entertainment, heartbreak, and hope into our lives. It has steered opinion, influenced politics, and recorded cultural history. The box may evolve, but its magic endures — one luminous frame at a time.
The writer is professor at Centre for South Asian Studies, School of International Studies & Social Sciences, Pondicherry Central University; views are personal