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The Big Debate: Does TV Have a Classist Agenda?

There’s nothing like a good, robust discussion to get the blood pumping and the cogs turning in the midst of an otherwise mundane work day. Last time, The Big Debate discussed the idea of franchise fatigue, and whether the associated claiming of release dates, years in advance, was a good or bad thing for the audience. This time, while the rest of the UK is focused on the historic referendum for Scottish Independence, Andrew Heaton and Sarah Myles are turning their attention to a very different, but no less complex issue – the presence, or not, of classism in TV.

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Andrew Heaton

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Look around you. Just look. You can stay exactly where you are. There is very little movement required for this experiment. All you need to do is turn on your television set with whatever device is compatible with it (if you’re reading this twenty years down the line, I assume this will be some form of microchip implanted in your lover’s tongue) and just marvel at what’s on offer.

It’s safe to say that in 2014, there is a show for just about every walk of life. TV is a consistent form of media that has raised – and continues to raise – generations of people from birth to death. Even with the digital epoch in full swing, television is still a main feature in millions of people’s homes. It influences people’s lives in ways that no other media can.

TV’s not perfect by any means and it never will be, but sadly, there appears to be a clear message that rings through many of the programs featured. It’s a message about class, a societal divide between the varying rungs on the socio-economic ladder. And it’s twisting our perspectives.

That message is loud and clear: working class people are scum and middle class people deserve happiness.

It’s not shocking news to hear that much of what TV offers can be of poor quality, but what’s interesting (read: terrifying) is the way in which it portrays people in society. For example, for working class (or even underclass) people, we are regularly subjected to scheduling that lowers the overall image of people of our status, perhaps showing working class communities at their worst.

Take The Jeremy Kyle Show, for instance. This is a UK-based chat show which typifies the morning line-up wedged somewhere between children’s cartoons and the news. Countries outside the UK will no doubt have their own version of this. Essentially, the show’s host – the titular Mr. Kyle – seems happy to parade hapless folks from the lower rung of society on his stage in a thinly-disguised attempt to help solve their problems, be they marital issues, paternity tests or general relationship turmoils. The issue here is that, from his wealthy, conservative high-horse, he is unable to offer any kind of rebuttal or advice that doesn’t comes across as holier-than-thou patronizing. From Kyle’s perspective, working class people just need a stern talking to from those more successful – like being told off by a rich uncle.

Unemployed? Not good enough! Had children when you were a teenager? Don’t have sex when you’re young! Have a drug problem? Tough!

And it’s not just the host either. The audience is also encouraged to boo, jeer and even laugh at the unfortunate souls who had the audacity to reach out to a popular TV program for help. It’s a sad reality that people bond together over other folk’s misery, especially when you consider that most of the people watching are closer to the show’s guests on the socio-economic scale than they are to Jeremy Kyle himself.

But the misguided portrayal of working class and underclass people doesn’t end there. Fly-on-the-wall documentaries, such as the BBC’s Street Patrol UK, seemingly commit themselves to showing antisocial behaviour perpetuated almost entirely by underachievers and down-on-their-luck members of the community.

Then there’s Benefit Street, a documentary that aired earlier this year which aimed to show the problems families living in one particular street had to endure while living on government benefits. However, the program missed the mark entirely by shrouding itself in controversy when it became apparent to audiences (and the people portrayed on the documentary) that it was entirely biased against those who have to live off the state and in relatively poor conditions.

Was it a purposeful move by the filmmakers or simply poor choices made on the cutting room floor? Either way, you won’t hear about such controversies on Come Dine With Me, because on the other end of the spectrum is the portrayal of slightly more middle-class people (or at least lower-middle). The term itself is a little vague, but you can probably conjure up your own idea of what it means to be higher up on the ladder.

Have you got it? Good. Hold that image in your head. Now head over to Channel 4 and commission that to a boardroom because that’s probably a million dollar reality show right there.

While working class individuals are the butt of jokes, insulted by rich men and, on the whole, shown to be nothing short of inferior specimens, middle-class folk have their pick of the programs whose agenda suits their entertainment requirements and lifestyle. For example, in the UK show Come Dine With Me, four strangers take turns to host a dinner party for the other three guests. The program consists almost entirely of high-flyers, entrepreneurs and successful career-types whose hosting is an almost sickly mish-mash of boastful, exotic cooking, expensive wine and intellectual conversations.

All of which would be fine if the entire point of the show wasn’t to outshine everyone else in the vain hope of winning the £1,000 prize at the end of the four days; a sum of money which seems almost insignificant given the guests’ backgrounds and social status. Does nobody else think the show would be more interesting if the prize was presented to people who didn’t have a working knowledge of fine dining or an increasing stock portfolio? For example, people who would actually benefit from it more?

You also don’t have to look far too find an array of property development shows which give people the opportunity to take part in a bit of investing. Well-educated, eloquent, business-minded individuals and couples take it upon themselves to refurbish a broken down home in the hopes of renting it out for additional income, selling it on the market for additional income, or using it as a second home for themselves because screw living in modesty, right?

The aforementioned programs, among other examples, seemingly want their audiences to rally behind these more successful people, while shows like The Jeremy Kyle Show encourage a divide between people from the same background. Perhaps to shove an anti-working class agenda down our collective throats? It almost certainly seems that way.