The reality of TV

The tragic case of Saad Khan, a 32-year old contestant on a Pakistani game show being filmed in Thailand who died while taking part in one of the show’s stunts, highlights the serious issue of safety and regulation in the Pakistani media.

The days of one state-controlled channel informing the obedient nation of what the president did today or which foreign dignitaries the prime minister entertained are long gone. Pakistan’s media scene has transformed over the past decade – and generally for the better. It’s a good thing that there are now dozens of television channels all competing for our attention. With just a few clicks of your remote, you can flick between the latest Bollywood blockbuster, a stern sermonising maulvi, fiery political pundits railing against the government, and all manner of foreign content.

There’s a mass of programming out there and every channel executive is eager for your viewing loyalty – more viewers mean more revenue generated from advertisers. For the most part, advertising is the primary source of income for channels and thus they are exploring ever more sensational ways to secure that money along with their survival in an increasingly ruthless market.

The last decade in the UK and the US has seen an explosion of so-called ‘reality’ TV. There’s much debate about what that actually means, but the genre includes shows like Big Brother, The X Factor, Pop Idol and Britain’s Got Talent. These are certainly the most famous and highest-rated shows of the past few years. All of them involve taking ordinary people from all walks of life and thrusting them into the media glare. Some of them succeed through raw talent and true grit and go on to have hugely successful careers.

Susan Boyle, an unassuming 40-something from Scotland, for example, hit the big time in quite an extraordinary fashion earlier this year. Not blessed with perhaps what we might consider a conventional superstar appearance, she nonetheless possesses a fine voice and her overall demeanour appealed heavily to the British public’s love for the underdog. Her first audition for Britain’s Got Talent became a massive YouTube hit and when Demi Moore started mentioning her on Twitter, she became a household name in both the UK and the US. All within just two weeks!

But ordinary members of the public who have no experience of the dog-eat-dog world of the media are little prepared for what can hit them. Near the end of the series, Boyle suffered a breakdown and was admitted to The Priory (the celeb rehab clinic of choice). Another contestant, a young adolescent girl, broke down in tears on stage during the live semi-final. Questions were asked in the media whether enough was being done to look after the well-being, both physically and mentally, of the contestants.

The producers of reality shows in the UK have now declared that they will have a team of psychologists on hand to keep an eye on future contestants and look for early signs of distress. But let’s be honest – though no one would ever admit it, the producers of Britain’s Got Talent must have secretly been counting their lucky stars: Boyle’s breakdown, after all, added to the ‘narrative arc’ of the show. The ratings during the last week of the series went through the roof as the public who had been following the dramatic story in the press tuned in.

The old adage that all publicity is good publicity rings true in the TV world. Everything that happens during a reality TV series can be construed and edited to become part of a wider narrative. It’s this narrative that is presented to viewers and it’s what hooks them in and keeps them coming back night after night.

The UK TV industry is generally well regulated. There are numerous organisations that monitor what is broadcast and issue guidelines about what can and cannot be shown. These guidelines are sometimes ignored and fines are occasionally slapped on channels that regularly flout them. There is also a healthy culture of self-regulation in the industry: there are no direct instructions from external bodies that demand that there be psychologists or health and safety instructors on set at all times. Many producers hire such experts simply to make sure that both staff and contributors remain well looked after. A better show is usually the result.

Which brings us to the case of Saad Khan. It seems he died during a swimming stunt. Any challenge performed in water must adhere to some basic safety measures: there must be qualified life-guards present, contestants should receive life jackets and everyone participating must be able to swim. As with any stunt, proper risk assessment should be carried out and signed off by senior execs (a requirement before any filming can even start in the UK). And there’s one thing the producers should never forget: judicious and clever editing in the cutting room ensures that the viewer believes in the dare-devil escapades – the actual challenge in which the contestants take part should, in reality, be as safe as a walk in the park.

The fact that Khan died while competing in the reality show has to raise suspicions about the safety measures in place. Accidents do happen and sometimes events occur that even the most careful producer could not have foreseen. But there must be a full and proper investigation into Khan’s untimely demise, by the Thai authorities as well as the television and marketing company involved and the Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority.

Here’s the reality of TV: Indian producers started copying successful western formats a few years ago and it won’t be long before Pakistani versions of reality shows are broadcast in ever greater numbers. My impression from watching Indian shows such as ‘Dance Idol’ is that the contestants appearing on them are much more naive and vulnerable than their European and American counterparts. For that reason, there have to be measures in place to ensure that the public is not exploited.

My experience has taught me that many contributors are very willing to do whatever is asked of them by TV producers. Many have an insatiable and unrealistic thirst for celebrity that makes them particularly pliant. It’s only after their dreams are shattered that regret, anger and frustration seep in. They shouldn’t be treated like children – unless, of course, they are children – but TV execs must bear serious responsibility for the welfare of the people who appear on their shows and are often unclear about what they might be getting themselves into. It is essential that Pakistani producers learn from Khan’s death.