Ah, reality TV.
No other single entity, with the possible exception of McDonald’s, has done more to glorify the atrocities of American society. We can thank reality TV for such gems as “The Real Housewives,” “Teen Mom,” and, of course, the ever-classy “Jersey Shore.” For some reason, Americans cannot get enough of the binge drinking, drama causing, sad sacks of society who populate these shows. We know very well they are as far from reality as it gets.
Still, one area of reality TV has amused me for years, ever since I saw my first episode of “True Life: I’m Homeless.” I was originally unable to look away from the destitute people living in their cars and eating out of Dumpsters, but it eventually dawned on me that these people were not alone; there was a whole camera crew following them around filming their pathetic lives.
The camera crew wasn’t homeless. The show’s producer wasn’t homeless. How then, did these people follow around these homeless folks pawning off beer cans for pennies? Did the show’s crew simply film these people and then bid them goodnight while they headed back to their comfortable homes, leaving the homeless under a bridge?
Similarly, what are the ethics behind drug abuse on TV? Documentary programs, such as “True Life” and “Intervention,” routinely film folks abusing illegal drugs such as heroin and meth. TV viewers get a front row seat as addicts, young and old, bite a belt wrapped around their arm to inject who knows what and act like lunatics while a loyal film crew catches every moment.
I’m sorry, did everyone forget that these drugs are illegal?
These people are sitting here engaging in activities law enforcement officials spend countless hours and resources battling. And in these same documentaries, when women prostitute themselves to obtain the drugs, do producers just sit by and watch the subject ride away into untold possibilities of disease and danger?
The paradox is almost too much. As Americans sit by and watch homeless people freeze or drug addicts slip into oblivion, all for the benefit of our entertainment or, I suppose, dissuasion from doing it ourselves, the people we are watching are actually suffering. It’s something that is hardly ever noticed, but when one stops to think about it, what type of heartless people produce and film these shows? The documented are literally killing themselves right in front of a camera, and at night the crew goes home and sleeps in a comfortable bed, conscience clear of what they’ve seen that day.
Is it not an obvious reflex to want to help these people? Should we not film their miserable shack dwellings and then guide them into a shelter? Or encourage the drug users into rehab?
How inhumane are we to film prostitution, drug abuse, theft, or any array of illegal activities just for the benefit of television, only to leave the people as we found them?
I know nothing about the industry, but perhaps there is some sort of positive compensation. That theory isn’t supported by the “True Life: Where Are They Now?” episode I saw the other day where the crew caught up with a mother and daughter still living in their car. How noble of them to again find and film people who are still in a desperate situation.
As crazy as America is, I think these types of shows exemplify how insincere the American TV industry is. We, the viewers who indulge in these shows, are not much better.
Laura Ellermeyer is a first-year finance major. Her column appears on Tuesdays.
