To me, the movie Seabiscuit eloquently captured the theme of American Idol: the desire of people who feel hopeless and powerless to know that humble beginnings and hard work can lead to success. We are riveted to the struggle. We want the best man or woman to win--and not just the best singer, but the best person. We want cosmic order, a good show, and Ryan Seacrest to be our friend, too.
In our increasingly unpredictable world, it is a very human response to want reassurance that there is some point to all this, to put some kind of meaning on our sense of powerlessness. Especially with the recent economic turmoil, people feel afraid and it's hard to get away from it between Orange Alerts and watchiing your retirement savings shrink. I agree with Anneli's point in "American Idol is a Mind Game" that American Idol reflects a fascinating psychological tableau. I am more optimistic, however, because I see it as vehicle of hope, comfort, and rather harmless escapism. We are watching others struggle to succeed. In some ways, the contestant's lack of control over their fate makes our own lack of control more bearable. If you recall, in the depression era there were Dance Marathons, brutal endurance contests that lasted weeks. (Remember Jane Fonda in "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?") With no Internet or television, people had to attend in person, paying 25 cents to sit on wood benches to watch contestants battle to win the prize. Shows like American Idol, Top Chef, The Biggest Loser, Project Runway and So You Think You Can Dance are our Dance Marathons, but we get to watch from the comforts of home.
I'm afraid I don't view media programming as a sinister corporate plot beyond the basic profit motives of a bunch of producers watching Nielsen ratings and counting SMS votes so they can keep their jobs. Yes, the American Idol producers undoubtedly engineered the cast for diversity--but can you imagine the outcry if they didn't? Besides, what's wrong with choosing contestants that will emotionally engage viewers? Shared experiences create connections, whether it's someone with whom you identify on television or finding out that the guy in the next cubicle likes the same contestant you do. I don't think you have to discuss Proust or the international balance of trade to have an emotionally meaningful experience with someone. We know there's lots of research results supporting the positive benefits of interpersonal connection and humor for your emotional and physical health. So if you get a good laugh with someone at the watercooler at Tatiana del Toro's expense, that's okay. If someone is incapable of having more intimate relationships, it would be great if they entered therapy. But if not, isn't having a friend over to dish about Paula Abdul better than no friend at all?
There is a commonality to all contestant back stories in a Bruno Bettleheimian kind of way - they are the "Grimm's fairy tales" of a media-saturated culture with all the basic plot lines: jealousy, family conflict, deceit, resolution, villains and heroes. Bettelheim saw fairy tales as existential dramas in which children confront their own problems and desire on the path to adulthood. American Idol creates narratives that allow people to address their own conflicts and moral understanding. When someone behaves badly, Twitter erupts and fan blog sites rail, confirming the collective view and restoring a sense of order.
As psychologists, we need to understand how people experience something like American Idol and not make moral judgments. There is a tendency to demonize reality shows and television consumption in general (see the great post by PT Blogger Nigel Barber "Does watching TV make you stupid?"). If we suppress aspects of popular culture, we are losing an opportunity to understand what makes people tick. Yearnings don't go away if you take a show off the air, they just pop up somewhere else in some other form. We don't want to hide the manifestations of our public psychology. We need to understand a phenomenon to make changes--if changes are needed at all. Do people feel helpless, powerless, unimportant, or unvalued? We can teach resiliency and provide opportunities to develop competence. As long as there is an audience, there will be content delivered, somewhere, somehow. When it's this big an audience, we all ought to be paying attention. And Annel, I'm with you on Allison!
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Photos from http://www.americanidol.com
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