With American Idol now in its 10th season and Survivor about to embark on its 22nd, it's clear that reality TV is now a full-fledged genre - not a fickle trend. Like it or not, sustainable ratings have fattened up other competition shows that enjoy more seasons than an ice cream store has flavours, like The Amazing Race and America's Next Top Model. They have also caused the proliferation of all kinds of other subgenres like the make-over clinics, the social experiments, the fly-on-the-walls about privileged or unusual lives, and, worst of all, the match-making games.
But we should have seen this coming the moment the first TV flung up its coattails, hitched up its pants and took its place in the first living room. Because TV brought the public sphere right into the private sphere - increasingly, in real time, on demand, even in 3D - and over the years, has contributed to a significant blurring of the two.
Back in the '30s, people watched the news and sporting events. Now, it's more than okay to admit family dysfunction, explore addictions, and air your dirty linen on global TV.
We like reality TV - its cheap-thrill, guilty-pleasure factor especially - because the voyeurism allows us to live vicariously through these exhibitionists, right in the comfort of our own homes. Reality shows - and Youtube and MySpace - mean that anyone can be on TV, not just professional actors; and anyone can get famous, with or without working for it.
They trumpet the possibility of instant transformation: Within the hour of 9pm to 10pm, an unruly child can be Supernannied into a perfect angel; Ty Pennington can construct a built-to-order house from the ground up; and an overweight person can become thin, with a fairy godfather providing a new designer wardrobe and a set of tooth veneers.
(That, of course, provides fertile ground for advertisements and product placements. We mustn't forget the economics - reality shows only cost half of what it costs to produce a drama or sitcom.)
Reality TV demands involvement and empathy. We see ourselves as that Idol hopeful pursuing her dreams, no matter how deluded those dreams may be. At the same time, we also see ourselves as Simon Cowell (gosh, do we miss him), telling sad sacks to sit down and shut up. See, you can't do that in real life.
And all this - the vicarious living, the desire for instant gratification - feeds into the rampant, unabashed self-absorption that perhaps defines our culture today, of which reality TV is a symptom. Our choice of entertainment reflects this cultural evolution; this shift of focus downwards and inwards on the cosmic scale.
The ancient Greeks staged plays about the gods. Shakespeare wrote about kings and nobles. Hardy illuminated the plight of the everyman. The Bachelor has a bunch of gold-diggers in miniskirts.
"I never travel without my diary," said one of Oscar Wilde's characters. "One should always have something sensational to read in the train." May Seah
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