Reality Tv Network

Abstract: An analysis of the episode "Swept Away" on NBC's Law & Order illustrates that ethics of entertainment television relates not only to network programming executives but also to producers, crew members, cast, and viewers. Current trends in reality television based on ridicule strain the bounds of what ethical people should consider proper.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

Key words: ethics, Law & Order, ratings, reality television, ridicule

**********

The Law & Order brand name has subdivided into multiple series and spread from NBC network television to various cable channels, airing around the clock. The success of the series can be attributed to straightforward storytelling, timely reactions to real-life news, and the writers' clever layering of plot line twists and turns. At the center of this whodunit--lock-'em-up sandwich, though, is not the Sherlock Holmes savvy of the investigating detectives or the brilliant legal insights of the zealous prosecutors. Law & Order works by casting moral lapses in ethical terms.

In this article, I present a case study of an episode of Law & Order that deals specifically with the ethics of a network television programming executive and his role in trying to raise the ratings of a reality TV show. There is a simple, elegant clarity in the conclusion of episode 244, "Swept Away," that contrasts with sociological views of television as a faceless, monolithic industry. "Swept Away" clears out the briars shielding television executives from their social responsibilities. The television programs we see, although often indistinguishable from one another, are not produced by a mechanized assembly line. Entertainment television, whether in the micro sense of the program or the macro sense as a commercial medium, is shaped and sanctioned by individuals who make choices.

At the site of accountability for the social effects of entertainment television lies not a commercial or a First Amendment but an ethical question: Does the conduct of network programmers who manipulate reality TV to improve ratings comport with ethical standards? In the final analysis of Law & Order's "Swept Away," the answer is "No."

"Swept Away" (Feb. 28, 2001, 10:00 P.M., NBC)

Police detectives arrive at the scene where a 20-year-old man has fallen to his death from atop a city building. The building residents include a group of young adults who are part of a 3-year-old reality TV show entitled Deal with It. The show resembles MTV's Real World and CBS's Big Brother, in which a group of people lives in a television-monitored environment to generate entertainment. The members of the group, or cast, are mum when questioned by police, on orders from the show's producers. Detectives learn, however, that everyone disliked the victim. Any of the cast members could be a suspect.

The show's producers, a husband-and-wife team with years of entertainment experience, present themselves as responsible, caring professionals. They speculate that a drug dealer hiding on the roof may have pushed the young man. The audience learns, however, that self-interest is motivating the producers' silence. They are protective of their hit show and lucrative arrangement with the network.

Archive tapes of Deal with It illustrate the show's antagonistic nature. Producers goad cast members in taped "one-on-ones": "How do you feel about Wes saying you have no talent?" "How do you feel about the fact that Wes said he slept with you?" "He not only read [your e-mail], he was posting it on the Internet with your picture ... in pornographic chat rooms." Each cast member pledges to get even; one says, "I'll kill him."

The detectives accuse the producers of fostering a violent climate through their provocations. The husband defends it as "stirring the pot" to create good television. They refuse to grant access to the cast without a lawyer present.

Stalled, the detectives investigate other leads and discover a camera operator who had videotaped the rooftop scuffle. After clearing legal hurdles, prosecutors finally see the tape of two young men pushing and shoving until one spins the other off the building. He lived long enough to make a dying declaration: He had been sent to the roof to provoke the other guy. It was a setup for television entertainment value.

The prosecutors scour the production notes of the show but find no evidence of authoritative orders. They examine shooting schedules and learn that production crews work in eight-hour shifts; no overtime. But one cameraman had put in for overtime pay for the fateful day. The camera operator first claims that he went to the roof hoping for good shots. But when he is threatened with legal consequences if caught in a lie, his friend blurts out that the producers sent the cameraman to the roof. The detectives charge the husband-and-wife team with murder.

From their jail cell, the producers invite the prosecutors in for a talk. It wasn't their idea, they claim. It was the network executive vice president in charge of current programming, Byron Stark, played by actor Adam Trese. After years of having their pitches rejected by young executives with gelled hair, the producers finally had a hit and were reluctant to resist the network's wishes--even if they disagreed.

The detectives go to Consolidated Broadcasting Corporation and interrupt a meeting led by Stark, a supercilious executive VP, who thinks the officers are staging a skit to win an acting job. In fact, they handcuff and lead him away.

At the executive's trial, the producers testify that Stark took an active interest in the series and was responsible for casting decisions and story triggers, especially with sweeps approaching. The vice president, though, explains to the jury that the "reality" of the show was in fact a "manipulated reality," that the kids knew it, and that he would never do anything intentional to harm anyone. The prosecutors also lack evidence to prove the executive's firsthand involvement.

With their case languishing, the attorneys shift from the criminal to the commercial motivation--to the "calculating" nature of entertainment television. Programming executives rely on focus groups to plot the trajectory of their network's programs. A media consultant, who did focus research for Stark, testifies that he conducted an audience analysis under Stark's orders to determine which of the cast members the audience "would most like to see dead." The answer--one of the rooftop combatants--seals the programmer's fate. Because he was responsible for setting in motion events that led to someone's death, the network executive accepts a plea agreement for second-degree manslaughter, two to six years in prison.

The Ethics of Entertainment Television

This Law & Order episode raises several ethical questions that can be generalized across entertainment television:

* Is it ethical for a network programming executive to manipulate a reality television series with a singular focus on ratings without regard for consequences?

* Is it ethical for independent producers of series television to co-opt their show, including casting and storyline decisions, to sustain a lucrative financial agreement with the network?

* Is it ethical for production crew members or participants in reality television programs to suspend their values in service of a program in which others appearing on the show may become objects of ridicule or possibly even physical harm--even if they have nothing to do with the violence?

* Is it ethical for viewers to watch programs that are based on ridicule?

Ethics of Network Programmers

Robert A. Miller wrote in the Journal of Business Ethics about the responsibility of executives in maintaining a structure that influences ethical behavior among employees. In particular, Miller questions "whether the creation of megamedia conglomerates will result in responsible corporate citizens." In the case of the Law & Order episode, the fictitious title "Consolidated Broadcasting Corporation" stabs at the industry's merging since the mid-1980s and the commensurate rise of the importance of ratings, profiteering, and disregard for the social effects of reality television.

At the crux of Miller's analysis is a focus on individual accountability, both in creating a corporate culture and in exercising judgments about following orders. He points to the "imperceptible Pavlovian cues" used to reinforce or influence desired behavior (Miller; Bogart 124). A singular focus on increasing ratings, especially during sweeps, is exactly the kind of imperceptible cue that motivates individuals who are responsible for television programs. In "Swept Away," the programmer, Byron Stark, admits freely that his drive for high ratings is not unique--it is the industry standard accepted as the prime mover in judging shows. But it is also a Pavlovian reflex that lacks the benefit of judgment required of ethical decision making.

Miller emphasizes the task of ethics management--"to define and give life to an organization's guiding values" and "instill a sense of shared accountability among employees"--in establishing an ethical corporate framework (Miller; Paine 111). He further stresses that leaders are responsible for inducing employees to reach for goals that represent mutual values and motivations (Miller; Burns 19). The unethical choice, then, to favor self-interest over long-term corporate interests does violence to the corporation--as in Byron Stark's actions, which jeopardized the parent corporation through the death of the young man and through the potential damage to the network's reputation.

The upshot of Miller is this: "Goal sickness," the mesmerizing effect of goals--to win ratings--"can distort our judgment at critical moments unless disciplined by clear values" (Miller 2; Goodpaster 45). But these values should not be viewed as monolithic just because the industry is linked by accepted strategies and cultures (Boylan). Entertainment programming decisions, then, should not be attributed to a monolithic television industry culture but instead to the actions of individual network executives who have the power to exercise judgment and authority over programming and content. Whether there is a commercial imperative or a First Amendment right to broadcast speech is irrelevant to the ethics of a programmer's goals and decisions.

In this case study, the network executive is convicted of putting into motion events that caused a person's death. His legal guilt is made obvious by his acceptance of a plea agreement for manslaughter. His ethical guilt, however, is unveiled through subtle clues embedded throughout the episode. The network executive has little interest in the husband-and-wife producers until Deal with It becomes a hit. Byron Stark then actively shapes the antagonistic tone of the show. When confronted by police detectives, he brushes aside their authority as a joke and claims to have the power to make them regret their acts. When his lawyer finally senses the damning testimony by the media consultant, Stark laughs at his responsibility. "I've never even had a traffic ticket," he argues in trying to substantiate his innocence.

What the smarmy Stark does not understand is that his power and prestige within network television do not shield him from normal human standards of concern for the well-being of those he affects, or that a singular focus on ratings places the network in harm's way. Network programmers, according to Law & Order's "Swept Away," are not protected from either legal or ethical jeopardy.

Ethics of Producers

Melanie and Corey Kaufman, the producers of Deal with It, are not exactly paragons of virtue either, in part because they are willing to compromise their professional standards to keep their show on the air.

Randy Cohen writes a weekly column in the New York Times Magazine under the heading "The Ethicist," in which he analyzes readers' ethical queries. Over the course of these weekly philosophical exercises, patterns emerge that give general meaning to the idea of "ethics." One is the expectation to look outward: "Ethics is concerned with the effect of one's actions on others" ("Singing," emphasis added).

In assessing the creative performance of a Toledo singer of vintage folk songs that contain the "N" word, Cohen writes:

  Honesty compels you to give the audience some sense of the original
  odious lyrics; discretion compels allusion rather than expression. To
  spring bigotry set to music on the unwary is to violate an implicit
  agreement between performer and listener. You wouldn't offer to
  provide a movie for a 5-year-old's birthday party and show the kids
  Psycho. Even when you are only playing with fellow musicians, you
  have an obligation not to perform these songs naively but with some
  understanding of their historical meaning. And you would be wise to
  consider the coarsening effects of casually using such epithets on
  your own sensibilities. ("Singing")

This view suggests that creative performers, whether singers or television producers, have an obligation to anticipate the impact of their expressions on others, and also, that creative artists are responsible for interpreting in advance how their expressions might be viewed by others and the potential harm they may cause if misunderstood.

In another situation involving creative art, in this case a Houston street photographer who displays his candid portraits in art galleries without obtaining releases from his subjects, Cohen again alludes to the need for a communal contract between artist, subject, and audience:

  There are few legal barriers to your shooting first and asking
  questions later. In fact, you seldom need to ask at all. ... However,
  while the state should not restrain your photography, there are times
  when you yourself should. Being an artist does not exempt you from
  considering the effect of your actions on others. If early one
  morning, bleary-eyed and unshaven, I am walking to the deli for a
  quart of milk, I might not want that image hung in an art gallery.
  Yes, I have chosen to appear in public, but that's where they put the
  grocery stores; a guy's got to eat. That should not compel me to pose
  for you. My interest in not looking like a goofball ought to carry
  some ethical weight. By ignoring the feelings of your involuntary
  models, you reduce them to the status of mere things, like rocks or
  clouds shot by a nature photographer. ("Say Cheese," emphasis added)

On Deal with It, when the Kaufmans went along with the network executive's aggressive one-on-one interviews to stir the pot and cooperated with the staged rooftop confrontation, they were treating their subjects like "mere things." Despite the contractual authority they may have possessed to run the reality TV show as they saw fit, their choice to manipulate the show's reality and put the cast members on the defensive to raise the commercial value of their program "ought to carry some ethical weight."

But the Kaufmans also crossed the ethical line in simpler terms--by violating their own standards. In many of the letters submitted to "The Ethicist," the writer discloses a personal objection to a particular act but wants dispensation in this one instance. A Brooklynite who read a diary found at a flea market confesses, "I know I violated her privacy by reading it" ("Dear Lost Diary"). An Illinois man wants his son to apply for a scholarship program that typically benefits political cronies: "Given that I find the program reprehensible, is it ethical for me to encourage him to apply for this scholarship?" ("Evolving Kids").

Cohen advises the diary peep to return the book and the father to vie for the scholarship without remorse. But in analyzing the ethics of these actions, he works from a basic ethical principle: "If you have a fundamental moral objection to this program, you should eschew it" ("Evolving Kids").

On Law & Order, the Kaufmans express numerous objections to how their show is being revised and question the integrity of the network executive. They disagree with Stark's plan to make their show edgier, more confrontational, more appealing to young men. They show no respect for his lack of experience or his gelled coiffeur. They go along with Stark's request to put the cast members of Deal with It on the spot through the one-on-one interviews, which they produce. But they openly admit that they are trading their standards for the opportunity to produce a hit show. They suppress their ethical qualms to achieve monetary gains.

Although reforming the fiercely competitive network television system may be beyond their powers--as with the father who saw the state scholarship program as "corrupt"--as key players in the development of Deal with It, the Kaufmans were in a position to resist the changes being imposed on their creative work. They could have taken steps to isolate themselves from Stark's maneuverings. They could have challenged his decisions verbally or in writing and made a case for other options to stimulate the show's appeal for viewers. They could have coached the cast members to treat their one-on-one questions as a show-business device designed to boost ratings, in other words, explain to them the "manipulated reality" the network wanted.

If the Kaufmans were so adamantly opposed to the two young men who were involved in the scuffle--one was obnoxious, the other had a suspicious emotional profile and was not a good candidate for being cooped up in an observed environment--they could have insisted they be withdrawn. To do so may have ended the Kaufmans' relationship with Stark and the network, but the choice to co-opt the series despite their personal displeasure with the direction is a clear conflict with ethical standards.

Ethics of Production Crew Members

The person in the best position to prevent tragedy on Deal with It was the camera operator. Because he was ordered to videotape the rooftop meeting, he knew there was a promise of trouble. He knew the purpose of the videotape--to produce a segment that would heighten the show's popularity. As a responsible adult, he knew the inherent danger of physical conflict on an unfenced roof several stories above the street. He was also detached from the actual conflict and in a position to act rationally. If the law does not require a person to intervene in the midst of an accident or crime, how can we assess whether the camera operator's inaction was a violation of any ethical code?

Claude-Jean Bertrand offers a model for measuring media ethics that goes beyond standards that apply only to producers. Bertrand delves into the details of ethical codes but also works from a basic framework of fundamental values and prohibitions. Under fundamental values, he lists "respect for life" and "promoting solidarity among human beings;" for fundamental prohibitions, he lists "lying," "appropriating another's property," and "causing needless harm" (45).

Bertrand assigns responsibility for upholding ethics to non-producers as well as media creators. In the present study, the camera operator was functioning not only as an employee but also as a professional videographer, no different from a journalist who is sent by his or her network to cover a developing story. Journalism has long held to a code of ethics; but the status of ethics in entertainment is not so well developed (Bertrand 17, 56-57). And the continued blending of entertainment values with reality programming has further confused the issue.

The professional status of a camera operator is ambiguous with regard to responsibility for content because of traditions that develop in academe, trade schools, and within the production industry. This confusion is exacerbated by the distinction between electronic news gathering (ENG) and electronic field production (EFP) (see Medoff and Tanquary). In practice there is a hair's-breadth separation between the two forms. Both involve single-camera shooting followed by postproduction editing. Although some aesthetic differences related to composition, lighting, and technique do exist, the technology is basically the same in both endeavors.

The key difference relates to intent: How will the content be used? For ENG, the material gathered could become part of a news report. For EFP, the footage may be for a documentary, corporate video, advertisement, or an artistic expression. Because EFP can be employed in so many different venues, there is a tendency when teaching to focus on the technology without dealing as much with content.

Many of the journalistic guidelines for shooting could apply equally to camera operators working in entertainment. For instance, a camera operator, or other crew member, like a news photographer, is not just accountable--he or she is accountable to someone, first of all to himself or herself. He or she should abide by personal convictions and "refuse any assignment contrary to ethics" (Bertrand 52).

In assessing journalists' account-ability, Bertrand lists four groups that are affected by their work and thus deserve ethical consideration: peers, sources, people involved in the news, and media users. It is actions toward peers that hold equally for EFP camera operators: "Journalists [and videographers] should not in any way discredit the profession" (Bertrand 52).

Although a camera is not a scalpel, it is as intrinsic to the work of the videographer as the knife is to the surgeon--an essential instrument when utilized skillfully and harmful when used carelessly. Certainly, the stakes involved with videotaping pale in comparison to those involved with medical surgery; but, within the contexts of their respective professions, the user of each instrument should honor rather than discredit the ethical codes of the profession.

Videographers, like photojournalists, must also give consideration to end users of their work. They have a duty toward their communities and should respect the "moral conscience of the public" (Bertrand 53). And they should service the needs of society as a whole: "Merely abiding by the laws is not enough. They must look after the interests of the public instead of satisfying its curiosity" (Bertrand 53).

Although the Deal with It camera operator was an employee of the show and bound to follow orders, he could have voiced a warning about the location of the forced confrontation. Had he been asked to carry electrical equipment over a wet floor, or to shoot inside a burning building, he could have asked for a safety concession from the employers to protect himself from injury. The same applies regarding the safety of those being photographed or filmed.

While on site, the videographer also has leadership responsibility because usually he or she is the one telling others what to do. If he were shooting a commercial and wanted to position a fashion model at the edge of a roof to make the subject appear to be floating in mid-air, he would not keep telling the talent to "step back, step back ...." The model would likely comply with the camera operator's instructions, assuming that he or she would not do anything that could result in injury.

On reality TV sets and locations, the camera and camera operator are omnipresent reminders of the jurisdiction of the show's producers and owners. If the camera lens is an unbiased observer, the camera operator need not be. Without the presence of the camera, there is no shot, no event, no show. So the camera and its operator are essential players in the production of the show, and the camera operator should be obliged to interpret what he or she sees through the viewfinder and weigh it on an ethics scale.

But this can be complicated. When a guest on The Jerry Springer Show appears from behind the curtain and a camera operator picks him or her up in the lens, is the camera operator unethical, knowing that what is likely to unfold is some kind of raucous reaction to someone being hurt, insulted, or mistreated, in carrying out the director's orders to stay with the shot? Referring to Bertrand's ethical fundamentals, the camera operator would be an accomplice in "causing needless harm" and would not be "promoting solidarity among human beings." The same would apply to a camera operator shooting bare breasts on Howard Stern's show, which diminishes the status of women to that of objects of the male gaze, or recording the nasty competition that accompanies Survivor and similar reality contests.

The ethics of employees also pit one's right to earn a living against the collective needs of a civil society. Automobiles contribute to air pollution and sport utility vehicles consume more fuel than conventional passenger sedans. Is it unethical, then, for an assembly-line worker to build cars or SUVs that guzzle fuel and pollute the air?

The laborer in this instance has no authority to influence the design and manufacture of automobiles and can do little more than suggest to designers and executives the need to be more careful with the planet's scarce resources. But there is no shame in making an honest living by building cars. Manufacturing automobiles does not do direct individual harm in all cases, and the inherent shortcomings that are associated with vehicle transportation are offset by many social and economic advantages that cars provide.

The same might be said for a worker in a handgun plant. Not every handgun is destined to be involved in a crime; many are built for law enforcement. For cigarette makers, it is tough to defend the manufacture of a known lethal product, except in cases where perhaps there are no reasonable employment alternatives.

Camera operators, however, unlike assembly-line workers, have direct effect on the product and ample opportunity to interpret the setting and aesthetic content of the footage they record. In the realm of reality television, all of the shots have a voyeuristic purpose intended to satisfy the desire for titillation among television viewers. Furthermore, the voyeurism is generally accompanied by some form of ridicule of another human being, albeit a willing participant. Therefore, although there are (1) economic reasons for camera operators to shoot what they are told without question, (2) a First Amendment right to record reality material, and (3) an accepted commercial structure in place to traffic in recorded reality images, the ethics of the type of shooting presented in Deal with It are at worst outside acceptable standards and at best open to debate.

Ethics of Reality Show Participants

Whether participants on reality television programs or similar types of confrontational of confessional talk shows, such as The Jerry Springer Show or The Jenny Jones Show, violate an ethical code is also a complex question.

If cast members of reality programs--or the group involved with Deal with It--are informed in advance about the nature and goals of the program, and corporate and creative limits in place to shape it, they can judge for themselves whether the proposed scenario falls within their own values of social conduct and comportment. If program producers, executives, or production crew members alter the negotiated environment and create a situation that offends a cast member's personal code, that individual would not be guilty of any ethical violation unless he or she continued to participate under the new rules, against his or her own better judgement. If, however, the corporate and creative limits would potentially place others in harm's way, either physically or emotionally, a cast member cannot escape accountability for contributing to the injury of others.

Suppose a rifle manufacturer wanted to sponsor a sporting game show. Television producers develop a scenario in which contestants would attempt to shoot live ammunition at alleged, suspected terrorists or "enemy combatants" running through a maze of camouflage or jungle-like terrain. Apart from the criminality associated with such a frightening scheme, it would be unethical for any cast member to agree to participate in such an endeavor because the prime intent is to injure human subjects, just as it would be unethical if the "terrorists" were replaced with wild boars, released into the jungle as proxies for alleged enemies, because of the intended injury to animals.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

This horrifying example establishes an endpoint of a continuum useful as a gauge for evaluating reality show ethics. As the assault is ratcheted down from murder, to gunshot wound, to paint ball splat, to water balloons, to verbal insults, to a pie in the face, at some point the injury is reduced from physical to emotional and then comical. The contestant, though, is never removed from the role as assailant and accomplice in an entertainment scheme designed to enrich the rifle manufacturer, or sponsor, and the corporate parent, or network, by diminishing the worth of the contest's prey.

Furthermore, the scenario itself diminishes the real pain and suffering felt by members of civilized societies because of the threat, anguish, and real danger associated with terrorism. No matter what premise is substituted, the potential harm exists and is enabled only by the willing participation of guests and cast members. The prey could be fat people, depressed teenagers, insecure adults, divorced men trying to recover their lives, transvestites, people with loose morals, abusers, unintelligent adults, or women who like to expose their breasts. The premise is always a sport with designated assailants and designated prey. To participate at any level is to violate "fundamental values" and "fundamental prohibitions" of ethical conduct.

Ethics of Viewers

Television viewers of Deal with It also share responsibility for the climate that resulted in a man plunging to his death, just as real audiences cannot escape responsibility for the true injuries triggered by guest appearances on reality and confessional talk shows.

In "Swept Away," the prime motivation for the executive vice president in charge of programming to manipulate the "reality" of the show was a desire to raise the ratings during the forthcoming sweeps period. Despite the hollow echo ringing in the age-old argument by the television industry that viewers easily can avoid undesirable programming by changing the channel, the corollary also holds: Television shows are sustained by the direct participation of audience members as indicated by ratings. A program generally survives only because viewers make an effort to tune in.

The commercial success of media, by definition, is linked to audience participation. A Detroit Free Press headline referring to controversial rapper Eminem stated, "5.4 Million Fans Can't Be Wrong." The article sanctioned Eminem's music on the basis of audience purchases of his compact disc and used commercial success as justification of the medium's message. In ethical terms, though, millions of fans can be wrong if they support programming or other media that focus on or celebrate violence or injury to others. Millions of German citizens embraced a demented dictator between world wars, and they were wrong.

In terms of entertainment ethics, the viewer cannot escape responsibility for what is on television. Bertrand deals with this concept in the book Media Ethics and Accountability Systems. From this perspective, everyone is responsible for media quality and should work to improve it.

Scholarly thinking on audience accountability is beginning to appear in the field of journalism. Recent ethical studies have explored the "citizen-reader," the "duty of civility," and the "ethics of democratic citizenship" (Schroll). At the core of these theories is the premise that responsibility for improving society "should stem from the ethical dimension of active democratic citizenship" (Schroll 327). Building from the work of Rawls, Dauenhauer, Walzer, and others, Schroll explains, "more than voting and holding office or being a member of a civic association, citizenship entails a fundamental decency and respect that is enacted toward others in daily interactions" (328).

Rawls identifies the "duty of civility," in which people are obliged not to exploit others or social-political "loop-holes" (such as commercial and First Amendment freedoms) for unfair personal advantage (Theory 355). Civil duty asks a person to widen his or her perspective on social happenings and commit to the betterment of others and to respect other people's interests and human development--even though such support may mean sacrificing one's own concerns (or television enjoyment) (Schroll; see also Walzer). Schroll writes, "To move from being simply a newspaper reader interested in public affairs to being a citizen-reader, the concept of readership must be coupled with the duty of civility" (328).

Schroll urges readers to use journalism to foster a culture of interactive responsibility in which people use their faculties to safeguard the well-being of others (see Booth 136). He goes on to say, citizen-readers should shift from self-directed actions (as in the onanism of watching others mocked in reality TV) into "other-oriented sentiments" and to exercise their capacity to subordinate their interests for a common good (335).

In his nascent development of communication theory, Schroll credits the simpler sentiment of literary figure-head Walt Whitman as the basis for his intellectual argument. Whitman, he explains, asked that the reading (or viewing) citizen see herself or himself as a "microcosm of the democratic whole" (Schroll; see also Nussbaum). Just as the television industry appears monolithic, but in fact is run by individuals like the fictional network programmer Byron Stark, the television audience comprises millions of individuals who bear singular responsibility for the ethics of their programming choices.

We all have the right to watch reality TV, which seems, on the surface, to be an innocuous, victimless pleasure. But with that right comes an ethical responsibility to determine whether our participation in the audience for programming based on ridicule serves the common good or merely our own self-gratification.

Conclusion

Law & Order premiered on NBC in 1988 and was controversial from the start (Courrier and Green 51). Although critics praised the show, advertiser pullouts pressured NBC's Brandon Tartikoff and Warren Little-field to cancel the series. The gumption to withstand the early criticism was linked to the creative goals, which reflects Miller's point about individual ethics stemming from corporate structures. Supervising producer David Black said:

  My dream for every Law & Order is that it presents issues the country
  is trying to deal with, moral  issues. It presents both sides equally
  strongly and when the show goes off the air, people start arguing with
  each other. It's good for the civic dialogue that a country must have
  to remain free. No one side should corner the market on righteousness,
  for dramatic reasons and for the health of republic. (qtd. in Courrier
  and Green 52)

By using an episode of Law & Order to show the dark side of reality TV, the series' producers are saying: Television shows exist because of the specific actions of individual network executives, who have choices to make and who should face the consequences for the effects of their actions. In this fictional example of a reality TV show, one man threw another man off a building to his death. In this case, and at other times on television, it didn't just happen--the network executive did it.

WORKS CITED

Bertrand, Claude-Jean. Media Ethics and Accountability Systems. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, 2000.

Bogart, L. "Church and State." Media Studies Journal 14.2 (2000): 122-29.

Booth, W. The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction. Berkeley: U of California P, 1988.

Boylan, J. "Gnats Chasing an Elephant." Media Studies Journal 13.2 (1999): 106-12.

Burns, J. M. Leadership. New York: Harper and Row, 1978.

Cohen, Randy. "Dear Lost Diary." New York Times Sept. 29, 2002.

--. "Evolving Kids." New York Times Apr. 7, 2002.

--. "Say Cheese." New York Times Jan. 13, 2002.

--. "A Singing Offense." New York Times May 19, 2002.

Courrier, Kevin, and Susan Green. Law & Order, The Unofficial Companion. Los Angeles: Renaissance, 1998.

Dauenhauer, B. Citizenship in a Fragile World. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Little-field, 1996.

"5.4 Million Fans Can't Be Wrong." Detroit Free Press Sept. 26, 2001.

Goodpaster, K. E. "Work, Spirituality and the Moral Point of View." International Journal of Value-Based Management 7.1 (1994): 49-62.

Medoff, Norman J., and Tom Tanquary. Portable Video, ENG and EFP. 4th ed. Boston: Focal, 2002.

Miller, R. A. "The Frankenstein Syndrome: The Creation of Mega-Media Conglomerates and Ethical Modeling in Journalism." Journal of Business Ethics 36.1-2 (Mar. 2002): 105-10.

Nussbaum, M. Poetic Justice: The Literary Imagination in Public Life. Boston: Beacon, 1996.

Paine, L. S. "Managing for Organizational Integrity." Harvard Business Review 72.2 (Mar.-Apr. 1994): 106-17.

Rawls, John. Political Liberalism. New York: Columbia UP, 1993.

--. A Theory of Justice. Cambridge: Belknap, 1971.

Schroll, Christopher J. "Theorizing the Flip Side of Civic Journalism: Democratic Citizenship and Ethical Readership." Communication Theory 9.3 (Aug. 1999): 321-45.

Walzer, M. On Toleration. New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 1997.

THOMAS A. MASCARO is a documentary historian in the Department of Telecommunications, Bowling Green State University, who also researches documentary or nonfiction aspects of entertainment television. He is a consultant on the Marshall Plan Film Exhibition of the Berlin Film Festival 2004. He is researching a book on the NBC News Washington, DC, documentary unit. His articles have appeared in Popular Culture Review and Television Quarterly. He also has written about the portrayals of African Americans on the NBC series Homicide: Life on the Street for the Journal of Popular Film and Television.

COPYRIGHT 2004 Heldref Publications
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group

Is reality TV's most public couple really married? (The Pantagraph)
LOS ANGELES -- Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, the reality-TV couple whose on-again, off-again relationship has been chronicled by MTV's "The Hills" and celebrity magazines, appear on the Wednesday cover of Us Weekly with the headline "Heidi & Spencer Elope!"

Italy's Communist Tranvestite TV Star (Time Magazine)
Italy's reality television show industry says as much about the country's politics as it does about Italian viewing habits

TV Plays Music in New Ways (TVWeek)
Since the beginning of TV, music programming has been an integral part of the success of the medium, from “Your Hit Parade” to “American Bandstand,” “The Ed Sullivan Show” and “Soul Train,” and finally to MTV, a network initially predicated on marketing music in short-form video bits 24/7. Music Programming TV Plays Music in New Ways . . . More » BET Looks Ahead . . . More » ...

Reality TV: Canine star struggles to find himself in dog-eat-dog world (Waterloo-Cedar Falls Courier)
"Bolt, speak," Penny commands. The canine steels himself, setting his feet, and unleashes a bark that creates a sonic shock wave devastating everything in its path. And Bolt has saved the day again. (If Penny fell down a well, Bolt could use his heat vision to turn the water to steam and save her or something like that. Lassie, eat your heart out.)

Tough economy hits reality shows (Chicago Tribune)
HOLLYWOOD—Is the recession driving viewers away from reality programming? There has been so much chatter about politics and the economic meltdown on TV this fall that it's obscured another reality: Some of the networks' biggest unscripted series have been sinking in the ratings.

LX.TV: By Any Vehicle Necessary (Mediaweek)
LX.TV intends to do for the emerging out-of-home video medium what Hollywood studios do for prime-time TV.

Joost Partners with Nippon TV, Yoshimoto Kogyo and Dentsu to Offer Leading Anime and Comedy Titles in the U.S. for the ... (Anime News Network)
New York and London - December 1, 2008 - Joost™, the Flash-based, global, web video service, today announced that Nippon Television Network( NTV ), Yoshimoto Kogyo and Dentsu will offer Japanese anime and comedy programs on Joost.com via dedicated channels.

Joost Partners With Nippon TV, Yoshimoto Kogyo and Dentsu to Offer Leading Anime and Comedy Titles in the U.S. for the ... (Marketwire via Yahoo! Finance)
Joost(TM), the Flash-based, global, web video service, today announced that Nippon Television Network(NTV), Yoshimoto Kogyo and Dentsu will offer Japanese anime and comedy programs on Joost.com via dedicated channels. Under the terms of the deal, NTV and Yoshimoto will provide content, and Dentsu will handle the advertising sales for this content.

A Generation of Local TV Anchors Is Signing Off (New York Times)
Cost-cutting at many local stations includes the big salaries commanded by news anchors.

A generation of local TV anchors is about to sign off (Denver Post)
One of the most familiar voices in Denver is about to sign off for the last time. In October, three weeks after Ernie Bjorkman, an institution in Colorado television, signed a new annual