Complicity and Love Island

I love Love Island! For the uninitiated, Love Island is a British reality TV shows that places, at any given time, 12 sexy singles in a Spanish holiday villa for 8 weeks. These bikini-clad singles are coupled up from day one - expected to share a bed and secrets - and are denied anything that might be entertaining (gaming systems, games, books and even pen and paper). As a result, couples are forced to chat with each other 24-7; getting to know each other and making and deepening connections. The objective is to remain in a couple (single Islanders are frequently purged from the Island), find love and win £50,000 (not to mention a slue of brand deals, sponsorships and a career as a verified influencer). And I love every minute of this vapid show.

I know I shouldn't, I know it's not good for the contestants or me, but I do. The intellectual in me loves how the show functions as a microcosm of shifting expectations in relationships and dating in the UK. While the trash person inside of me loves watching other people suffer. I am aware of the voyueristic pleasure I got when I watched Anna blow up at Jordan after he started flirting with another girl, TWO DAYS after making her his girlfriend. I recognise the sadistic glee I felt when I watched Liberty realise that Jake may have been faking his feelings for TV. I enjoyed watching Michael gaslight Amber into thinking she was in the wrong when he fucked up. And I am equally aware that I am watching real people go through real emotions on, effectively, international television for my enjoyment. I can't forget it; nor do they let me. In each episode, the Islanders are texted by producers with information on challenges (like the Movie Challenge wherein the producers show highly edited clips to the islanders to spark drama), or dumpings and recouplings. While, in some episodes, direct producer manipulation is apparent (like bringing an Islanders ex-partner onto the show). At each point, I am forced to reflect on what exactly it is that I am doing. 

I am watching the lives of real human beings, with real emotions and reactions to stressful situations - similar to mine - actively manipulated and surveilled for my enjoyment. I am watching harmful stereotypes about blackness and what it means to be beautiful be reinforced whenever Love Island features a black islander, only to surround them with white faces who all like people who are blond-haired and blue-eyed, and exclusively invites muscle-toned men and curvaceous women. But this had never bothered me before; at least not to the extent of questioning my complicity in the tragedy that surrounds Love Island. What changed, or rather is changing my mind, were the string of suicides associated with the show and the fact that the production team does not seem all too bothered about doing something about it.

Although the production team have instituted checks for mental health (reportedly, Islanders go for a wellness check once a day), and screened all Islanders for mental health risk, these feel performative. A great example of this is the exit of Islander Jacques O'Neill (the aforementioned ex who was brought in to 'tempt' fellow islander Gemma Owens). Jacques claims that the production team attempted to convince him to stay, even as he requested to leave out of fear for his mental health. It was apparent, on the show, that something was not right. He was growing increasingly agitated, and quick to anger. He was shown frequently crying and was clearly despondent. And yet, the production team convinced him to stay; a clear rejection of their duty of care. For them, no doubt, they didn't want to see him leave because his storyline was the most entertaining. But at what cost? Would they have been willing to accept responsibility for what happened had he stayed on? Or would they, as they have in the past, play puff puff pass with the blame?

But I need to ask myself these questions too. The production team only asked Jacques to stay on because it was entertaining to people like me - viewers of the show. Viewers who complain that Love Island is not what it used to be in its' early seasons (1-3), where the production team either did not know what would happen or did not care. Viewers who recognise, especially about the Jacques incident, that Love Island is at its' best (as a reality TV dating show) when a modicum of toxicity is injected into the show. And so, viewers like me must ask what responsibility we bear for what happens to contestants on the show. Because it's all being done FOR us, for our entertainment. People are being manipulated, and deliberately placed in compromising and stressful situations for my entertainment. If I stopped watching, would they stop? The obvious answer is NO. But if we all stopped, would that stop this? Still NO. 

The proverbial cat was let out of the bag when reality TV emerged as a dominant genre of television. Production teams can try to create a safe and healthy working environment for the talent (aka real people), but that has the knock-on effect of making bad television. Healthy people in healthy situations are not entertaining; their lives are not entertaining. If they were, men Dr Phil and Jeremy Kyle would not appropriate the miserable lives of their guests for profit. But take a healthy person, manipulate them and their surroundings to elicit a reaction - a seed planted here, a clue left there - and then you have great TV. Reality TV cannot exist without a modicum of toxicity and unhealthy behaviour. Therefore it is unlikely that a mass boycott would change it. 

Another factor we ought to consider considering is what happens to the contestants after they leave the show. Most become successful influencers and several are now multimillionaires and celebrities in their own right. This is why most people go to Love Island; finding love is secondary. Finding a brand deal is primary. As a result, this complicates the question of complicity. Because one could argue that because a majority of the Islanders are okay a majority of the time, it is okay to watch Love Island. It's nothing more than entertainment where everyone is aware of the deal. And, in response, I would argue that there is a difference between being aware of something and living through that thing. Are Islanders aware of the manipulations by the production team and the hostile social media environment they'll be returning to; yes. But because they have not lived through it, you cannot really say they know what awaits them or, more importantly, how they'll react to it. 

So, where does this leave us? Where does this leave me? Will I continue to watch Love Island; unfortunately yes. Will I watch it next year? Despite everything I know, probably. This is because I've never watched Love Island for the people; I watch it for the community. I bonded with my flatmates, as a University Student fresh to British culture, because of Love Island. In fact, one of the reasons I watch Love Island is to keep up with British culture (not living in it anymore) and retain a link to my life there. 

And, to be honest, I'm not ready to let it go yet.