There is a haunting Ray Bradbury story from 1950 set in 2026—haunting only because it’s yet another one that seemed so far-fetched that seemingly has become true—about a technologically advanced house that lived on well past its owners.
In “There Will Come Soft Rains,” the main character of the story is the house. It’s run by an Alexa-type system, which cooks, cleans, announces things, and does everything for the “family” that isn’t there. We fear the family has been long dead, likely from a nuclear blast, and the house lives on until a fire breaks out and the house desperately tries to put the fire out until it succumbs to the flames. Only the sound of the Alexa-type computer running the house drones on, announcing the date…to the very end.
I couldn’t help but think of this story the past week as America became the epicenter of the COVID-19 pandemic. Our houses, of course, seem like the safest places to be. Unless they aren’t. For those of us who are bored, it’s a safe place. We are told we’re saving the world by staying in, watching some TV and Disney+, and safely practicing “social distancing.”
For others who are battling a mild case of the virus, it’s the place where they struggle with fevers and coughs, praying they can outlast a virus in a home quarantine and not infect others or not develop a case that requires a scarier outcome involving hospitals and ventilators.
The world is scared, worried, and anxious. Even the partying college students have finally figured out they are not immune. Yes, by now almost everyone is terribly aware of what COVID-19 is, what social distancing means, how heroic first responders and healthcare workers are, and how the newest superhero is not a Marvel masked character but Dr. Tony Fauci.
Almost everyone.
Because until this week there were several groups of people locked away in Germany and Brazil and Canada without much of an inkling whatsoever the gravity of the crisis the world was facing. They were quarantined but for another reason. Because they were playing Big Brother.
These contestants on Big Brother Germany, Big Brother Brazil, and Big Brother Canada were isolated before or in the very early stages of coronavirus—when it was a minor blip in the international newspapers. Without access to the internet or phone, as the rules of Big Brother demand a total “blackout” of news and information from the outside world while they are sequestered inside the Big Brother house, they have had no information for weeks about the outside world. Meanwhile, the coronavirus has raged across the planet, becoming a pandemic and changing how we live. It’s become the single most important news story in twenty years.
But at what point do you interrupt Big Brother?
The ethics of reality TV are murky. We saw CBS completely bungle instances of sexual harassment in Season 39 of Survivor, allowing contestants to feel uncomfortable for too long before pulling the harassing player. (Subsequently, they have promised changes in their structure and now will interrupt the game if it happens again). A sequestered American Big Brother cast was only told limited information about 9/11 in 2001. They were not shown any news footage, but they were told about the incident.
But should reality shows that are “sequestered” tell contestants about current events? Should the show just “go on” when the world is falling apart?
Big Brother Canada just simply decided to stop production. Already contestants were puzzled why they didn’t hear cheering when contestants were voted out and the door to the house cracked open. Usually contestants in the locked house hear the studio audience cheering, but there was no studio audience because audiences aren’t allowed in Canada, just like American shows aren’t being taped with audiences. But the Canadian show was nervous about the health of the daily production staff, so the show immediately ended this week. There will be no winner. They will not continue at some other date. It’s unclear what will happen to the prize money.
But what happened first in Germany and then in Brazil became a story that will be studied in TV media courses some day, asking the ethical question: At what point do we tell contestants of a disaster outside the doors of the sequestered house? And how? And should the game go on, despite the situation outside the studio?
In Germany, the host and the “doctor” stood behind the locked house and told the contestants the news. They reassured them their families were safe and told them the virus had been sweeping across the globe and was now a pandemic. They then got to see their own family through videos showing they were okay… while the show continues. it’s unclear how they are keeping the crew safe from the coronavirus.
Brazil, on the other hand, did about the same thing as Canada.
Criticism of the German handling of COVID-19 was intense. Social media commenters said the show did too little, too late. They lambasted the show for its “taped news clip” informing the contestants of the crisis and then the hosts discussing the crisis with the contestants. Others thought it morbid that the show was trying to somehow bring a news event into the game that is an entertainment show.
But when locked in a room for a few months, contestants do deserve to be told the truth. It’s critical that TV shows that “remove” contestants from reality (Survivor, Big Brother, etc.), and take away social media and sequester contestants, inform the players if something is happening that could impact their own families. While these players have signed a contract that informs them they’ll be isolated from “reality” themselves by playing the game, some things are absolutely vital: they deserve the opportunity to choose to go home to family and friends. If there’s a chance a pandemic might strike and harm someone close to them, for example, TV networks are morally obligated to let the players in on the facts so they can choose to stay or leave.
Of course, there isn’t much more that can be done except keep the house safe. In many ways, an isolated Big Brother house might be safer than the rest of the world.
Reality TV isn’t totally real, of course. All things on screens are a construct. But the perception of its “realness” is what keeps viewers glued to it. We value it for its entertainment, but we also celebrate it for the “regular” nature of the people we see. They become part of our own family. We root for them like our own brothers or sisters or despise them as much as the unwanted guest at the Thanksgiving table.
But reality contestants also have very real humans they know and care about who are part of that real world. We see this all the time. Just two weeks ago in Survivor Australia (which is having a fantastic All Star season 7 right now and makes U.S. Survivor at times seem like Survivor Lite because of how brutal its challenges can get) we saw a fan favorite, Lee Carseldine, get called into the woods, take a phone call and burst into tears. When questioned a moment later by a tribemate, he responded. “Mum’s had a massive stroke… and they don’t think she’s going to make it. I’ve got to get home. It’s real bad.” Viewers indeed did find out (by the clumsy dedication at the end of the episode) that his mother did indeed pass away. In reality, she died that night before Lee made it home—before he could even board a flight from Fiji to Australia.
Showing Lee’s grief in the woods—like showing Big Brother contestants when they similarly hear news about relatives suffering health setbacks or worse—is very human. While some argue it’s exploitative, we also see the very real reactions from real people. There are no tribes. The game halts. Humans care. Whether stuck for 39 days in the jungle or several months in a Big Brother house, when someone loses a parent there is something raw or powerful about the hugs of friends, even if they are strangers who have been “quarantined” with you in a jungle or house for weeks. And for viewers who are watching, these moments are important, too.
Great novels, plays, poetry, song—all great works of art and literature can help us be human. Australian Survivor contestant David Genat made a remarkable comment when he heard of Lee’s tragedy and said, “Everyone’s greatest fear being on Survivor is something happening on the outside world.”
With COVID-19, the outside world is happening. The reality world marches on. It can be our light in dark times, but TV producers do need to keep those very contestants informed about when our world becomes darker than theirs.
Maybe one day something monumental will again happen to the world. Maybe the only ones left will be Survivors on an island or young people trapped in a house. I hope not. But for now we have reality TV. Like the house in Bradbury’s short story, it just keeps going.
