Who are the "experts" who appear on these shows? Usually psychologists or, more often, non-Ph.D. psychotherapists who do the talk show circuit regularly because they have a book to sell or a private practice to nurture and can speak in sound bites. Many veterans offer workshops to other psychologists who want to get on television. They even get together to trade war stories and get feedback on a recent "performance."
In theory, the experts could offer sound advice on a show's general topic. They could even offer useful information to the guests. But this is not what generally happens. The "formula" gets in the way. Even experts with the best intentions get caught in the talk-show undertow, the hurried rush to judgment, and do misguided on-air counseling or mediation between warring guests. But that's like singing to a deaf man. Guests are not there to humble themselves and gain therapeutic insight. Not in front of 10 million people. They are there for validation or, like the expert, to get some TV exposure.
So what function do psychological experts serve in actuality? In part, they give the talk show a frisson of legitimacy. But in the main, experts are the laugh track to help audiences identify whom to blame, whom to side with, and who "just doesn't get it." That may not be why the experts think they're there. But that's why they are there.
Some experts will say publicly that, "on balance," talk shows are worthwhile, that they help the viewing public, if not the guests. But for most experts I know, the only "balance" they are thinking about is their own, in the form of self-promotion. The dirty little secret most media psychologists know is that, with rare exceptions, if a psychologist truly wants to educate the public, the last place to do it is on a contemporary tabloid talk show.
The Barker
With very few exceptions, those who book the guests must be con artists and ambulance chasers. They get the names and phone numbers of prospective guests from a variety of sources: viewers who call in response to an announced theme ("If you have had a boyfriend betray you with your best friend, call us"); those who read an ad for prospective guests in the classified section of local newspapers; those who list themselves in publications devoted to specific oddities of human behavior. Or the bookers call psychotherapists or other personal-service specialists and ask them to bring their patients on as guests for particular theme shows. For ethical reasons respectable therapists must refuse such requests; the requests keep coming nonetheless.
The bookers need social misfits to feed the beast. Guests are given no warning that the electrified climate of the set will loosen their tongues and obliterate their self-protective sensibilities. That would spoil the fun.
Prospective guests are offered only a forum for personal advocacy ("obese women deserving love," "transvestites deserving women who understand them") and encouragement to tell all. The promise of an opportunity to meet Phil or Sally, of planes and first-class hotels, and of a night on the town can be very tempting to people who usually have little access to such luxuries.
There are no warnings about surprise guests, as a grandmother discovered on one Montel Williams show on which I was the expert. Thinking she was on stage only to discuss her misgivings about interracial marriages, this grandmother was totally blindsided when the mixed-race grandchild she had refused to see or even acknowledge was brought on stage and placed in her arms. She had no choice but to submit or else be seen as the racist Ice Queen of the century. The gimmick played well to the audience. But the on-stage reunion had little to do with grandmother's off-stage fury about being set up. The staff of the show was subjected to her tirade.
A psychologist or psychotherapist is there to feed the beast as well. When a booker calls, he or she needs to determine whether you can talk without resorting to psychobabble and whether your point of view is compatible with the show's topical focus. A booker once called me to appear on a show to discuss the pain of recovery from repressed memories of sexual abuse. I told her I was unconvinced of the legitimacy of many so-called recovered memories. She thought for a minute, said that wasn't the point of view needed for this particular show, but they were planning another show on "the false memory syndrome," and she would keep me in mind. The sands of principle shift easily.
The less experienced you are as an expert, the easier it is to be misled by bookers. If you tell them that you don't want to be part of a circus, that you need to be able to seriously explore the topic, they tell you they agree and that their show is different. But if you watch an episode of the show before deciding, most of the time you realize you have been lied to.
It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out why. Their show is a circus because circuses get ratings. In March, the Jenny Jones Show garnered some unplanned publicity when, a few days after their appearance on the show, one guest shot another. The alleged murderer had been asked to appear on a show about secret admirers. Unaware that the show's real theme was about men who have secret crushes on men, he obliged. To his shock, a neighbor appeared with his heart on his sleeve. Three days later the admiring neighbor was found dead and the homophobic guest surrendered to police. The next week, the show's ratings jumped 16 percent.
Sweeping Up
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