The purpose of reality shows: Selling dreams
Ardimas Sasdi, Jakarta
Jamhuri, a fisherman, lived in a humble house with his wife and two children in a hamlet in Semarang, Central Java. The family had long dreamt of having a decent house to live in, but the dream only materialized when a crew from a TV reality show showed up one day last month.
On that fateful day, a female crew member from the show, driving a BMW, visited the Jamhuris in their modest house. After introducing herself and the purpose of her visit, the woman, clad in denim trousers and a T-shirt, told Jamhuri that said she planned to repair his house -- of course, at her company's expense.
Not believing at the offer, Jamhuri and his wife stood perplexed for some time, then gently nodded after looking to each other for approval. Still dumbfounded, the family was then taken away in the luxury car to a four-star hotel, where they stayed until the repairs were completed.
Minutes after leaving, a dozen or so workers in uniforms arrived to do the makeover of Jamhuri's house. A truck rolled up, loaded with building materials and equipment required to do the work.
Twelve hours later, the simple family were taken back to their home by the TV crew. The Jamhuris were greeted like VIPs on their return by their neighbors -- some of whom must have been intensely jealous of the lucky family -- with everything being filmed by the TV crew. The house had been totally reconditioned -- new doors, ceilings installed, floors fitted with ceramic tiles, and walls repainted in European colors. And the little kiosk used by Jamhuri's wife to supplement their meager income was redesigned. The house was filled with new furniture and electronic items.
This was a brief scene from a "reality" TV show called Bedah Rumah (Home Makeover). The show, a product of a popular trend among local television stations at the moment, is aired by RCTI at 6 p.m. every Sunday.
There are very many other so-called reality shows being shown on local television, some of them highly sought after, and range from programs about supernatural powers to music. Among them are Trans TV's Uji Nyali (Test of Courage), RCTI's Uang Kaget (Quick Money), SCTV's Harap Harap Cemas (Hope and Fear), ANTV's Penghuni Terakhir (Last Resident) and TV7's Buset.
Most of the shows aired by local broadcasters were produced by external production houses, including Bedah Rumah. This system of production helps TV stations cut costs, and also provides a convenient excuse to evade responsibility when "accidents" happen.
A striking example of such an "accident" was the Candid Camera-like show called Membikin Orang Panik (Making People Panic), which claimed the careers of police officers from a police station in Kebon Jeruk, West Jakarta. In an episode aired by RCTI on May 26, First Lt. Sunarjo helped the crew of the Avicom production house "arrest" Piko, a university student, by framing him on charges of possessing a knife and a large quantity of marijuana. Upset by the involvement of his personnel in the show, which also sparked a public outcry, the Jakarta Police chief sacked Sunarjo and reprimanded his colleague. But RCTI's reaction was lamentable, merely saying that, "We deeply regret the incident".
Woe also befell Trans TV, which was sued by a woman for unpleasant and felonious acts, over the production of a show called Paranoid. In one scene the woman was among people who were scared out of their wits by "ghosts" and other macabre beings.
Physical harm is just one of many potential hazards of these reality shows, which are usually aired by TV stations during prime time and packaged in attractive ways to raise their ratings.
Some of the shows even promote supernatural beliefs, such as LaTivi's Pemburu Hantu (Ghostbusters) and Trans TV's Dunia Lain (Other World) and ANTV's Tuyul Millennium.
The screening of these types of shows -- adding to the existing voyeuristic "crime reporting" programs shown by local television -- is not only 'uneducational' but also extremely unhelpful in a country where education levels are so low. The head of a Yogyakarta hospital psychiatric ward, Soewadi, said that the number of people suffering from delusions and symptoms of schizophrenia in the city was on the rise lately, partly due to frequent exposure to supernatural reality shows on television.
Other reality shows, like RCTI's Indonesian Idol, similar to the U.S. American Idol, Indosiar's Akademi Fantasi Indosiar (AFI) and TPI's Kontes Dangdut Indonesia (KDI), at least have some educational value for the contestants. In these shows, participants must undergo rigorous testing and training organized by people expert in their fields. But even these programs, which have driven parents hungry for name and fame to push their children to join the contests, are riddled with moral shortcomings.
Winners were selected by viewers, not by experienced juries. Support for a contestant was conveyed via Short Message Service (SMS), and such support was usually based upon the contestants home town rather than their talent. Each SMS message cost between Rp 2,000 (US 21 cents) and Rp 3,000, far above the normal rate of around Rp 300.
The number of SMSs received by TV stations for these programs, commonly run over four months, varies, but the three TV stations concerned said they received between 2 and 4 million SMSs. Indosiar reportedly received Rp 4.5 billion in income from SMS messages alone, which was shared between the TV station, the telephone companies, and the providers handling the SMS flow. The problem with this is that the majority of people sending these messages are by no means wealthy, but rather low-income people easily influenced by primordial links with the participants.
Television stations also received income from advertisements, from proceeds from sales of tickets to the shows, as well as from cassette and CD sales.
Realizing that the public have to some extent woken up to this exploitative business, some TV stations now offer prizes to woo viewers into sending SMSs. But the most serious moral quandary is that these shows sell dreams of instant success, which of course is far from reality -- except in very rare cases such as Jamhuri and others.
The author is a staff writer at The Jakarta Post.