CURRENTLY IN TELEVISION

From private to public: The loss of shame

Bill Strom

In Abbotsford, B.C., we receive channel 12 from Bellingham, Washington, a station that airs television nostalgia of the 50s, 60s and 70s. Recently I watched a rerun of The Bob Newhart Show, where Newhart plays a psychologist in Chicago. In this particular episode, a television producer was attempting to get Newhart to bring one of his counselling groups for a shoot on Psychology in Action. Newhart rebuffs the producer again and again on the grounds that he respects his clients and their need for intimate, heart-felt support in the privacy of his office. Going public would blow the whole counselling dynamic.

Eventually Bob's client group hears that he has turned down the request to go on television. They're hurt. Newhart is surprised. "So you actually want to go on television?" he asks. They answer with a resounding, "Yes." Then each attests that he or she will share with the world what they have so far only shared in private.

At the studio, though, their attitudes change. Nerves and self-absorption get the best of them, and they clam up. Newhart is left to fill time with a 56-~minute monologue. Spilling one's guts on camera is depicted as an uneasy, not-quite~-right activity.

Cut now to most current daytime talk shows (Oprah, Geraldo, Sally Jesse Raphael). Have you noticed a change in people's willingness to go public with their personal grievances, addictions and less-than-common lifestyles? A list of typical guests looks like a Newhart counselling group: A woman is jealous of her husband's flirting with other women, but he defends his behaviour as innocent. Tall women bemoan how difficult it is to attract men. High school girls from well-to-do families discuss their struggle with anorexia nervosa and bulimia. A 35-year-old man explains why he is attracted to and marries a 60-year-old woman despite her family's disapproval. A guy who lives with his girlfriend explains what a pain it is to have her making demands on his life that require commitment and lost independence.

As believers, we may praise such shows for telling it like it is--life is complex and relationships take effort. Or we might also see them as an opportunity to learn about a particular disease or syndrome that affects our life or that of a loved one.

In addition, though, we will have to admit that these shows break down the line between private topics and public topics--between what ought to be discussed with close confidants and what is appropriate for public consumption.

"But," it may be argued, "these people are willing to go public. They're being paid to go public!"

Yes, just like porn queens posing for Playboy. Just because people are wiIling to go public does not make certain topics more appropriate.

We may also acknowledge that those people's lives are none of our business. I have never met a person who shared his or her teary story on a television talk show, and I doubt I ever will. Every half-hour I commit to watching them is a half-hour less to consider the complex relationships in my own life. Every half-hour spent lost in the world of strangers takes me out of the world of those next door.

I realize that talk shows are not meant to solve every problem; they exist to entertain us and make us think. But when the intimate disclosure of strangers in New York and Los Angeles replaces the intimacy of friends in Abbotsford, I'm in sad shape. Bill Strom is an associate professor of communications at Trinity Western University and a member of East Aldergrove MB Church in Abbotsford, B.C.

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