Back at the end of September, reality classic Big Brother UK returned to our screens for its 17th season. Big Brother UK first aired in July 2000 and quickly became a TV staple in households across the nation. Labelled as a ‘social experiment’, the show brings together a group of contestants representative of the general public and forces them to live together in restrictive conditions, with an eviction at the end of every week voted by the public. As the series continues, the group is whittled down to a singular winner who walks away with £100,000. In addition, the contestants are filmed 24/7, with viewers able to tune into the live stream at any time. Now in its 25th year, Big Brother UK is older than several of its most recent contestants, with the youngest, Teja Dalphy, being just 18.
While the programme is undoubtedly etched upon the Mount Rushmore of British reality television, I am discouraged from tuning in to the latest series. Firstly, due to the general fatigue I feel towards this show that is almost as old as I am, and secondly, because of the insidious way in which this year’s casting is fueling the country’s rise into fascism.
Among the cohort of this year’s housemates is the Tory party’s favourite internet darling, Emily Hewertson, Caroline Monk, the self-confessed ‘good friend’ of Nigel Farage, and wannabe actor George Gilbert who – as it currently stands – has been removed from the house for repeated offensive language. The comment that got him his final strike was one so antisemitic that production has refused to air it. Since exiting the house, Gilbert has uploaded a YouTube video revealing the comments that got him axed and further doubling down, stating that Hitler was ‘misguided’ and proposing that there ‘might be some truth’ to widespread antisemitic tropes.
While the programme is undoubtedly etched upon the Mount Rushmore of British reality television, I am discouraged from tuning in to the latest series. Firstly, due to the general fatigue I feel towards this show that is almost as old as I am, and secondly, because of the insidious way in which this year’s casting is fueling the country’s rise into fascism.
Contestants with openly far-right views and affiliations being cast on popular reality TV shows is part of a wider pattern I and many others have noticed, one that works to neutralise the very real threat of these opinions and normalises them within our society. Let’s take, for example, Nigel Farage’s appearance on I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here in 2023. Despite initially receiving backlash from viewers, the former UKIP MP placed an impressive third on his season, and in just three years since has become leader of Reform UK – currently the most popular political party in the country, according to Statista. Reform UK’s proposed policies for Britain include repealing the 1998 Human Rights Act and restricting welfare access to only British citizens, to name just a few.
Shows like Big Brother and I’m a Celeb offer fascists and extreme right-wingers the opportunity to win over susceptible hearts through a cult of personality; in performing relatability, these individuals can make themselves and their views seem harmless, and even rational. Furthermore, their fellow castmates are rarely ever politically outspoken themselves, but represent a politicised identity. When fascist politics and a person’s humanity are equally positioned as up-for-debate, the extremity of the former is validated and the damage towards the latter is minimised. Misinformed talking points, like those around migrant hotels, are parroted on these huge platforms and go largely unchecked by producers, who care more about creating outrageous television than they do the repercussions of it.
This lack of care and responsibility leads to real-life harm for marginalised groups in society. In fact, it’s taken just two weeks of BBUK being back on air to see this illustrated in real time. Also cast as a housemate this year is trans TikToker and internet personality Zelah Glasson. Last week, during a game of spin the bottle, Farage’s bestie Caroline misgendered Zelah multiple times and made inappropriate comments about his reproductive capabilities, earning her a formal warning from Big Brother.
As expected, the episode sparked polarising discourse online. One particular tweet from a pop culture news account celebrated Big Brother as ‘the GOAT social experiment’ and praised the show for turning the moment into a teachable lesson for Caroline, and others at home who might share her views. I can, to some extent, understand this rationale; housemates on Big Brother are meant to represent the full spectrum of individuals residing in the UK, which unfortunately includes transphobes. Holding up a mirror to society will illuminate the good and the bad, and for us to progress, the latter must be addressed.
However, the burden of carrying this mirror will always fall on the shoulders of those already laden with oppression. To complete Caroline’s redemption arc, Zelah is obliged to accept her apology and explain to her – an adult over twice his age – why his humanity deserves to be respected. It becomes Zelah’s responsibility to keep the peace by forgiving and forgetting, while internally having to process the pain of being purposefully misgendered on national television.
The question arises whether reflecting society back on itself is still an effective tool in fighting fascism, particularly when the monster in the mirror seems wholly indifferent to what it sees. At what point do we, as oppressed people, put the mirror down and pick up a pitchfork instead?
Worryingly, these intolerant opinions are no longer held exclusively on the right side of British politics. The current Labour government has emboldened bigots in this country through transphobic and anti-immigrant dog whistles – research from the Home Office published earlier this month reveals that Islamophobic-fuelled hate crimes are up by 19%, and academics in the UK claim that the severity of systemic transphobia meets the requirements to be classified as a public health crisis. With this in mind, the question arises whether reflecting society back on itself is still an effective tool in fighting fascism, particularly when the monster in the mirror seems wholly indifferent to what it sees. At what point do we, as oppressed people, put the mirror down and pick up a pitchfork instead?
Unfortunately, it’s unlikely that we’ll see the British public rebel in such spectacular fashion, as was seen in Nepal in September when young protestors toppled its corrupt leadership. In the meantime, we as consumers need to be vigilant; look out for the subtle and not-so-subtle ways in which far-right extremism is being fed to us via the programmes we watch and the stories we read. We need to rescind our viewership of shows that actively participate in normalising bigotry, and hold media conglomerates responsible for the individuals they platform. To corral the beast of fascism, we must shed passive consumption and critically engage with all pillars of socialisation – including and not limited to media – or else we’ll be eaten alive.
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