Calling all foul mouths

IF I were casting the part of a powerful politician on a campaign to embarrass the entertainment industry for its abundance of demeaning stereotypes and degrading images of women and African Americans, it would be hard to find a better fit for the role than U.S. Rep. Bobby L. Rush (D-Ill.).

A former Black Panther who is now a leading liberal Democrat chairing the House subcommittee on commerce, trade and consumer protection, Rush can’t be stereotyped as a knee-jerk anti-Hollywood zealot. He has probed lead paint levels in toys, computer privacy issues and college sports coaching diversity. But today Rush is putting top showbiz executives in the hot seat. Using his subcommittee as a bully pulpit, Rush, an ordained Baptist minister, is asking moguls to tackle the issue “From Imus to Industry: The Business of Stereotypes and Degrading Images,” a topic inspired by the uproar over radio personality Don Imus’ infamous description of the Rutgers women’s basketball team as “nappy-headed hos.”

Rush is not alone in his concerns. The African American community has been embroiled for years in a heated debate over whether corporate entertainment executives should take more responsibility for the demeaning images of blacks that often occur on TV and in hip-hop songs. Earlier this month, more than 500 people demonstrated outside the home of Debra Lee, chief executive of Black Entertainment Television, demanding that the network stop airing offensive portrayals of African Americans. The record business is frequently criticized for a stream of violent and vulgar lyrics in hip-hop songs.

It’s a symbol of Rush’s clout, as well as industry concerns about accountability, that he has attracted an all-star cast. Among those scheduled to testify today are Viacom Chief Executive Philippe Dauman, Warner Music Chairman Edgar Bronfman, Universal Music Chairman Doug Morris and Take-Two Interactive Chairman Strauss Zelnick. (Dauman is included because Viacom owns BET and Zelnick because his company puts out Grand Theft Auto, a controversial video game.)

I wish I could tell you why Rush feels so strongly about these issues. His staff had agreed to put him on the phone Friday, but he ended up declining to talk. From discussions with his staff as well as industry insiders, my sense is that, for Rush, 60, this is a generational issue. Having come of age during the civil-rights struggles, he must be appalled to see young black men -- notably hip-hop artists -- being celebrated for living the thug life, indulging in gun-toting feuds and spouting lyrics that liberally use the N-word.

People who attended a recent meeting Rush had with people in the entertainment industry said he cited the popularity of the 1972 film, “Superfly,” which glorified pimps and drug dealers, as a turning point in the moral deterioration of popular culture. Staffers say that Rush is not advocating legislation. But as the first African American to head this subcommittee, he believes corporate America needs to take more responsibility for the influence its entertainment has on African American youth.

In an interview with the Chicago Tribune in July, Rush offered a window into his thinking, saying he often draws his hearings’ topics from life experience. “A car pulls up on me at an intersection,” he said. “I hear the profanity [from the car stereo]. I hear the degrading words about women. I hear the misogyny. And then I see the aberrant behavior from these same kind of people. . . . There’s a connection.”

I confess to being as conflicted as everyone else about the issue. Artistic freedom is a key element in this country’s DNA. Our pop culture, from show tunes to Hollywood movies to sitcoms and rock ‘n’ roll, is a key ingredient in our country’s image as a country of hope and dreams. When newcomers arrive in America these days, they are far more wide-eyed about “Spider-Man” and “American Idol” than the Statue of Liberty. But as entertainment has become edgier and less refined, it has been increasingly difficult to draw a firm line between unsettling art and vulgar trash.

Everyone is concerned about violence in entertainment, yet we give our highest artistic awards -- our Oscars and Emmys -- to “The Sopranos” and “The Departed.” One man’s senseless violence is another man’s trophy.

If I could print a batch of current hip-hop lyrics -- which I can’t, because my newspaper has its own standards about offensive language -- most of us could probably agree that much of the language is abhorrent. But it isn’t so easy to find a consensus about the next step -- what to do about it? It’s one thing to nod your head in agreement when a silver-tongued talk-show host advocates getting rid of all that insulting language until you start to wonder: Who’s in charge of defining what’s degrading and how far are they going to take it?

After a previous generation of politicians put their feet to the fire, the record business began stickering CDs with parental advisory warnings and offering consumers the choice of a clean or explicit version of new releases. It has kept the wolves at bay, just as the movie business has fended off attacks on its content with its Byzantine ratings system.

A key player in the music industry’s dealings with Washington, Mitch Bainwol, head of the Record Industry Assn. of America, acknowledges that hip-hop has lyrics that often make him wince. “But artists also produce a lot of music that has been hailed for its positive impact on society,” he told me Friday. “We’re not saying Rep. Rush is wrong, just that we’re not in the business of drawing lines. We have a lot of issues to tackle as a society, but if we give up our free expression, then we’re going to have even bigger problems.”

For anyone who values free expression, the track record of Washington hearings is pretty depressing. From the shameful days of HUAC’s 1947 Red-hunting to the Tipper Gore-inspired 1985 rock lyric circus to the 2000 Senate hearings on marketing violent entertainment to minors, previous confrontations have inflamed cultural issues without offering any constructive solutions. Still, politicians keep summoning showbiz titans to Washington.

“Government interference in creative issues has had zero good results, in America or any other country,” says Danny Goldberg, a veteran record executive and manager who testified at the 2000 hearings. “I probably agree with Bobby Rush on about 99 out of 100 things, but whether you think hip-hop or video games are elevating and illuminating or creepy and immoral, you can’t change the evolution of culture by a Congressional hearing. All you get is a climate of fear.”

That doesn’t mean that the entertainment industry should be allowed to simply police itself. Public pressure and media scrutiny often work wonders. But if Congress wants to seriously address the issue of demeaning images in today’s media, it should invite the people who really shape our culture: the artists themselves. (Rush does have an artist panel, but its best-known name is the hip-hop relic Master P, who has little influence on today’s music.)

Years ago, when Lenny Bruce was being arrested on obscenity charges at comedy clubs, he found it infuriating that when his case went to court, it was always a beefy undercover cop who provided an accounting of what Bruce had said. The comic begged judges to let him do his act. I wish Young Jeezy or 50 Cent would do the same. If you’re willing to provoke, you should be willing to defend your work too.

I’m always offended by politicians who criticize movies they’ve never seen or music they’ve never heard, but I’m equally insulted by artists who want to push the envelope but won’t take responsibility for their words and images. Art has enormous power to inspire and illuminate, which is why it matters. But if artists use their power to demean people, they should be willing to explain why.

The evolution (or de-evolution) of pop culture is often a great mystery to us all, but if Rush is really looking for answers, he should be picking the brains of the artists who create our culture, not the middle-aged white guys who simply try their best to exploit it.

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“The Big Picture” runs every Tuesday. Questions or criticism can be e-mailed to patrick.goldstein@latimes.com.