The Jakarta Post - WEEKENDER | Sat, 08/23/2008 3:40 PM | Media
Nobody
wants to be the butt of a national joke, but it’s OK when it’s somebody else
caught with their pants down. The celebrity-hunting scandal sheets have now
graduated to the big time of TV with an almost round-the-clock roster of infotainment
shows. Maggie Tiojakin reports on the juicy gossip shows that the public
loves to hate.
It’s
considered the lowest common denominator in journalism: holding up public
figures to scrutiny by rummaging through their garbage, hounding them for every
little embarrassing smidgen of information from their private lives, feeding on
the carcasses of their failed marriages, bitter separations and tragic Kodak
moments.
But
we still call it journalism because it’s news. At least, for some people.
Over
the last few months, the tangled divorce saga of music power couple Maya
Estianti and Ahmad Dhani has drawn a posse of entertainment journalists like
ants to sugar or flies to you-know-what. They have camped outside the couple’s
home, the courthouse where the drama is being played out and the haunts of
their three young sons to squeeze every last melodramatic drop out of the story.
Public
opinion is now firmly divided between the pro-Maya and pro-Ahmad camps, with
allegations of polygamy and adultery (was he having a fling with her former
singing partner?) and the role of the modern career woman (should she have
spent more time at home with the kids?) thrown into the sordid mix.
Their
story is only one of the many on the constantly revolving merry-go-round of
celebrity lives splayed before the cameras, involuntarily exposed for scrutiny
as everything else falls apart. It makes us, the viewers, savages, giving us a kind
of power we can’t even begin to comprehend. And the media plays it to perfection.
“It’s
a degrading business,” says Mustafa Nurdian, a journalist at Detik.com. “It
gives a bad name to other journalists who are doing serious work. First, it
exposes people during their weakest moments. Second, it exaggerates events to
unbelievably large proportions, plus it has no educational or informational
value.”
“When
did we ever stop thinking that public figures are anything other than ordinary
people who make mistakes, have affairs, get fired from their jobs, have babies?”
he asks.
Uya
Warsani, a content editor at RCTI, finds a simple explanation for the
phenomenon.
“One
word: sensationalism,” she says. “We target public figures because they’re
visible. Sure, it gets a little out of hand sometimes, but that’s just the by-product
of fame. You play with fire, you get burned — it’s quite self-explanatory. You
want the people to love you, well … this is love. Love is obsession.”
Sensationalism
can push up ratings and grab the attention of the public, without much regard
for the truth. In print form, it makes for light reading; on television, it’s
the equivalent of popcorn-shoving and soda-slurping in cinemas, except that
many of the viewers take what they are being fed to be cold, hard facts.
But
those in the infotainment industry argue they are not simply ladling out
untruths.
“Entertainment
journalists are no different from any other journalists,” says Uya. “We have
the same codes for pursuing news — we don’t make news, we report it. We all
work the same grueling hours for the same meager pay, and if it looks like
we’re fishing too deep or knocking too loud … how is it different from war
journalists who are hunting down insurgents or politicians?”
Mustafa
disagrees.
“There
is a difference between exploiting news subjects for an unknowing public and
exploiting the unknowing public with news subjects,” he says. “Entertainment
journalists exploit the public, they use the public as puppets, steering them
where they will. News is fact-based, rumors are something else.”
Originally,
infotaiment – combining information and entertainment — aimed to provide educational
information presented in an entertaining fashion. Things like gardening and
cooking, or learning how to make origami.
It
has evolved into stories on the hottest scandals involving celebrities,
although there are sometimes “softer” stories, such as the problem of one
celebrity who just cannot shake her nail-biting habit or another’s decision to
forsake wigs for hair extensions. Many
of the programs are produced by the same production houses, so there is often uniformity
to the presentation and story angles.
Evi
is a 26-year-old store manager in Kelapa Gading,
“I
don’t laugh at [the public figures] when they’re miserable or undergoing tough
ordeals,” says Evi. “I sympathize with them, I feel sorry for them. I do think
that there are viewers who love to see some public figures go down, but not all
of us are like that. Some of us watch these shows for mere entertainment.”
Some
will argue that the programs are ways of educating people to understand better
their social surroundings. That the process of “humanizing” public personages is
all part of what makes communication vital. It comes at an expense, no doubt,
but perhaps it’s the kind of expense we can afford and justify.
“Oh,
come on, I don’t care how smart a person is, if they tell me they’ve never
watched an infotainment show, they must be lying,” says Evi, smiling. “It has
nothing to do with intellect, it’s just something fun.”
But
Mustafa is still a holdout.
“I
think whoever brings news to the people should act responsibly,” he says.
“People make light of these things because they feel they don’t contribute to
the moral hazards they have helped create by endorsing this type of
entertainment. Just because it’s fun to watch doesn’t make it any less
outrageous.”