In your hour of grief, don’t go toward the lights

There was that queasy feeling again last week, as a grief-stricken mother in Rialto sobbed to TV reporters moments after learning her son had died in Iraq. Such stories are irresistible for local news, a chance to “meet the Southland woman” who could provide an emotional, close-to-home connection to a faraway event.

At this point, asking media folk to exercise restraint -- whether the situation involves interviewing parents of war prisoners or encouraging humiliation as part of so-called “reality” shows -- recalls the adage about the frog stung by a scorpion that he ferried across a stream. When the frog asks why, the scorpion responds, “It’s my nature.”

So instead of hoping the media will police themselves, consider this a plea to you, the public: When they knock, don’t answer. To borrow a phrase, just say no.

Given the thousands of people who regularly line up to audition for such programs as “Fear Factor” and “Big Brother,” I realize this amounts to spitting into the wind. The urge to be on TV is seemingly insatiable, as demonstrated the other day when a woman mugged for CNN’s camera in the midst of a protest attacking war coverage.

Still, I just finished doing my taxes, so maybe the timing felt right to advocate a hopeless cause. Either that, or it was simply hard to bear the distasteful image of someone shoving a microphone under a vulnerable person’s nose and asking with studied sincerity how they felt.

To be fair, newspapers cover such stories as well, but the effect is far less invasive and exploitative than tape or live “team” coverage. Although it’s easy to understand why reporters pursue such interviews -- or for that matter, what the commercial allure of “reality” shows is -- both require cooperation from individuals willing to be poked, prodded and made part of the rotating zoo exhibition.

Unfortunately, this isn’t “The Truman Show,” where you can triumphantly escape out a side door. Try to beat the media at their game and the agenda served will inevitably be theirs, not yours.

You’ll be in the spotlight as long as the cameras demand, then ushered out with zero fanfare. Don’t expect to switch them off on your timetable, either. Just ask Ed and Lois Smart, who cultivated press attention while their daughter Elizabeth was missing, but have had to keep media jackals chasing interviews and TV movie rights at bay since her recovery.

As for the fluffier side of fame, talent manager Bernie Brillstein has stated that no one discovered by a TV talent showcase such as “American Idol” will ever become a major star, and I’m inclined to agree -- in much the same way that it’s hard to fathom a successful relationship emerging from “The Bachelor” or “Josephine Millionaire” or whatever becomes the next variation on a dating program.

The people on these shows are nothing more than raw material for TV programming, to be swallowed and expelled faster than you can say “Richard Hatch,” the original “Survivor.” (I was going to use Kato Kaelin here, by the way, but the last time I offhandedly did that he actually called to say the reference had hurt his feelings.)

As for going on TV with the noble intention of honoring loved ones, if that’s the reason Katie Couric or Diane Sawyer comes calling, just consider the public’s attention span. People are already impatient two weeks into the war, if that’s any indication of how long memories linger in today’s caffeinated media environment.

Al Tompkins, broadcast and online group leader at journalism school the Poynter Institute, cites the balancing act journalists face when interviewing family members of war prisoners or casualties. “There’s no question you cause harm by doing that,” he said, adding that such reporting can nevertheless be valuable if it helps people “understand the magnitude of the loss -- to put a face on a faceless tragedy.”

According to Tompkins, journalists must ask, “What truths need to be told to the public, and what harm are we causing in telling those truths? ... There’s no question that grief clouds judgment. But there are ways to mitigate the harm” -- among them going to third parties, say, as opposed to those closer to the victim.

Sorry, but I am hereby serving notice right now to my friends, family and anyone else I have ever met that if they are lost in an inconceivable disaster, I will not attempt to help others understand it by talking to the “Today” show, and I’ll ask them to extend me the same courtesy.

The news media are exhibiting a few signs of conscience about their ghoulish behavior, with a discussion set for next week’s Radio & Television News Directors Assn. convention in Las Vegas titled “How the Media Treated Me.” The forum will offer tips on “how to approach victims, be sensitive to their concerns and minimize harm.... You’ll be able to identify ways to tell compelling stories about ordinary people caught in extraordinary situations.”

Taking a different tack, producer David E. Kelley will explore the peculiar impulse to appear on staged reality shows in next week’s “The Practice,” which features an obsessed woman kidnapping CBS Television President Leslie Moonves (playing himself) in order to get on television. Kelley has an ax to grind after “Joe Millionaire” drubbed his show in the ratings, but in this case, it’s hard to imagine fiction rivaling the absurdity of reality.

This isn’t to say television shouldn’t try to put a human face on tragedy or, on a separate front, titillate viewers with bizarre series concepts. TV’s job is to entice us to watch, and to the extent such stunts are successful it’s our fault, really, for letting it reel us in.

We shouldn’t forget, however, that these media excesses exploit more than they enlighten, helping numb us to suffering and coarsening our culture. So whether you’re actively pursuing 15 minutes of fame or reluctantly saddled with them, please, stop and think before you go toward the lights.

Brian Lowry’s column appears Wednesdays. He can be reached at brian.lowry@latimes.com.