It will get better, I reassured myself. And, in fact, there were times over the course of the numerous daily talk shows when the show's tempo or the host's integrity offered me opportunities. The Montel Williams Show was a prime example. Early in his career, when the show originated in Los Angeles, Montel dealt with such issues as interracial dating, the impact of gangster rap lyrics on society, and parent-child conflicts. Generally these shows were done with a purpose--to educate, not simply titillate. Things got rowdy at times, but Montel never seemed to lose his vision of accomplishing something worthwhile, especially in the arena of race relations.
Unlike Geraldo, Sally, or Oprah, Montel Williams let an expert talk in more than sound bites so that delicate and complicated issues could be explored without sacrificing light for heat. Indeed, after appearing on a show in which I voiced my support of interfacial dating as a way of breaking down racial barriers, people came up to me in stores and restaurants to thank me for making their lives a little easier. Such experiences reinforced my belief that reaching millions of people via the forum may indeed be worth some of the silliness an "expert" occasionally encounters.
But things change. The Montel Williams Show became corrupted by its own modicum of success and its quest for ratings. The day I got a call from one of the show's producer-bookers to mediate battles between couples in a boxing ring while wearing a striped referee costume, I knew the wind had shifted. Montel had joined the talk show circus in earnest.
Before Montel's fall from grace, did I really believe talk shows could be reliable forums for imparting psychological wisdom? For a while I did, so I kept doing them. I was like a pigeon in a Skinner box, pecking away on a schedule of partial reinforcement, convinced that the next peck, the next show, would reward me with the experience of having done something worthwhile.
Then finally, after appearances on Oprah and Sally, the simple, stupid truth of it all sunk in: Talk shows exist to entertain and exploit the exhibitionism of the walking wounded. If you want to explore your problem, you go to counseling. If you want to exhibit your life, attack and humiliate your spouse, or exact revenge for some misdeed, you go on a talk show.
Proof came to me in a phone call late one night. A woman's voice asked if I was the doctor she had seen earlier that day on Oprah. I was.
"Would you help me get on Oprah?" she asked. "I need to talk about how I was sexually abused as a girl by my brother. I told my parents. They never would listen. Now I'm in Seattle, living with a woman. My life is screwed up and I need to get better."
"What about therapy?" I suggested.
"No," she replied, "I must go on Oprah."
"Why Oprah, why a talk show?" I asked. "Surely therapy would be a better place to work out your anger and resentment."
"No," she screamed. "My parents have to pay for what they did, for not believing me, for ruining my life. If I went into therapy, only the therapist would know. If I go on Oprah, millions will. My parents couldn't ignore me then. And their lives would be ruined like mine was."
After that call, I began to turn down most talk show invitations. Most, but not all. Their narcissistic allure still whispered in my ear, albeit more faintly.
Help, I've Tuned In and I Can't Tune Out
Like cancer cells, talk shows multiply. In the 70s there were three. Now there are 20 and counting. They have surpassed soap operas as the number one draw of daytime TV. Their appeal is obvious. These shows are a source of electronic gossip, of safe scandal. They provide endless opportunities to compare one's own life with those on the screen and breathe a superior sigh of relief. If you feel like one of life's ciphers, how uplifting to see people make fools of themselves on talk shows.
Talk shows also offer vicarious revenge. If you seethe inside because you have been betrayed or deeply disappointed in relationships, how pleasured you are by watching infidels try to justify their actions and get clobbered in a pincer movement by guests, hosts, and audiences.
Like the soaps, shopping networks, and endless women-in-jeopardy movies of the week, talk shows owe their popularity primarily to women. They constitute over 70 percent of the viewing audiences.
Talk shows are relationship shows. But because they're steeped in gender stereotypes, they polarize relationships between the sexes. Women come on talk shows mostly to discuss betrayals and victimizations. Women in the audience either attack or embrace. They attack when the women on stage live up to the weaknesses to which they are heir--needing a man to feel legitimate and validated, and sacrificing their dignity on the altar of that need. Women in the audience embrace when the enemy, the male, is on stage betraying the female guests in the same way women in the audience feel they have been betrayed.
If, as Bette Davis once said, old age is no place for sissies, then the talk show is no place for men. You wonder why men who won't commit, who sleep with their girlfriend's best friend, or who abuse their wives come on such shows to get predictably garroted. From what I've observed, most do it to pacify their partner's desire to simply get on one of the shows.
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