The reality TV gaze

MA Thesis Television & Cross-Media Culture

Pien Luijerink Studentnumber: 12798002

Supervisor: Misha Kavka Second examiner: Toni Pape

Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION 3

1. EXTERNAL GAZES 8

The architectural structure of the panopticon 9

Game logic and the gaze of the camera 11

Space and a second gaze 15

2. THE INTERNALISED GAZE 20

Discipline in the panopticon: internalisation & agency 20

Internalisation of the gaze in Love Island 23

Resistance in Love Island and the gendered gaze 28

3. THE GAZE OF THE VIEWER 32

Viewers in the panoptic machine of Love Island 32

Online communities 36

Online resistance against heteronormativity 38

CONCLUSION 44

REFERENCES 47

2 Introduction

Reality TV has developed into a genre of its own, translating surveillance into a form of entertainment. What used to be a cheap form of niche programming has transformed into one of the most popular programming trends with subgenres ranging from self- improvement to dating reality shows. Its potential for media prominence has lifted numerous reality TV formats to an exceptional level of popularity, like Big Brother, Survivor, The Real World and Jersey Shore. Considering a more recent example of a reality TV format that has distinguished itself as a cultural phenomenon in Britain, is reality dating show Love Island. The first series of the show originally aired in 2005 titled Celebrity Love Island, an ITV production involving single celebrities looking for love. Following disappointing ratings, the show was axed in 2006 after two series but returned in 2015 simply called Love Island. The celebrities were swapped for ‘real’ people who nonetheless fit society’s standards of beauty. Breaking ratings records with more than six million viewers, Love Island has established itself as one of the most popular TV programmes of contemporary British television (BBC, 2019). Love Island is a reality dating programme where young singles live together in a luxurious villa located on the Spanish island of Mallorca. For eight weeks, they live together and date each other, hoping to find love. In order to stay in the show, contenders must be coupled up in heterosexual pairs since being single puts them at risk of being removed from the show. The winning couple eventually takes home a £50,000 prize. Because of its immense popularity in mainstream media, Love Island has a far- reaching ability to transmit discourses and consequently influence its viewers. From a sociological approach, studies suggest that reality TV, specifically reality dating programming, is considered a salient source of information about culturally appropriated behaviour (Zurbriggen & Morgan, 2006; Ferris et al., 2007; Kim et al., 2007; Seabrook et al., 2016). The huge responses to Love Island on social media, in the press but also respected TV programming like daytime programme This Morning demonstrates the substantial social influence of the show. The impact of Love Island in mainstream media opens up the question what kind of messages the show is sending. Because Love Island’s format is closely tied to topics like relationships and sex, most of the conversation around Love Island discusses the

3 sexual behaviour of the contenders. This research therefore analyses the discourses of sexuality in Love Island to examine what kind of messages the show is proposing. In order to do so, this research focusses on the genre of reality TV and the impact of surveillance on the representation of heteronormative discourses. The immediate and interactive nature of Love Island, and reality TV in general, encourages the viewer to take on the role of surveillant and presents the viewer with the opportunity to watch and judge the actions of the contenders. In turn, the function of surveillance in reality TV establishes and reinforces behaviour that follows heteronormative discourses (Weber, 2014). As a reality show that forces contenders to be in heterosexual pairs while being under constant video surveillance, Love Island provides a relevant case study for the visibility of heteronormative discourses. Furthermore, including only heterosexuals that embody the ideal beauty standards, Love Island appears to be a reality show confirming every possible cultural norm regarding sexuality and gender. In fact, the contenders’ status as eye candy plays a big role in the reality show’s popularity. Yet, the immense amount of attention Love Island receives, also includes criticism on its portrayal of heteronormativity. By analysing the function of the reality TV gaze and its relation to the representation of discourses, this research explores to what extent Love Island allows heteronormativity to be challenged. Using the concept of the panopticon is a useful way to analyse the impact of reality TV in relation to the representation of heteronormative discourses. Reality TV characterizes itself through its element of observing ‘normal’ or ‘real’ people in controlled situations or during their everyday life rather than scripted performances. Reality TV therefore offers the viewer a voyeuristic experience, giving the viewer a look into the lives of other people. This voyeuristic impulse is reminiscent of the panoptic principles popularized by Michel Foucault (1975). Adopting Jeremy Bentham’s architectural model of the panopticon, Foucault (1975) argues that individuals subject to an unverifiable gaze regulate themselves to perform appropriate behaviour. Individuals in the panopticon are made visible by a supervising gaze, but the person that actually observes can’t be seen. This metaphor is demonstrated in the reality TV gaze as the lens of the camera represents the supervising gaze while the viewer at home remains invisible. Yet, applying the panoptic principles to reality programming does not offer a new approach to studying the genre of reality TV. In fact, researchers have produced a vast amount of literature on the subject, including topics like discourses on women and childbirth (Sears & Godderis, 2011), female sexuality (Waggoner, 2004) and

4 reality show Big Brother (Levin et al., 2002). However, the impact the reality TV gaze has on the representation and eventually the extent to which heteronormative discourses are challenged had yet to be explored. This research builds on script theory in order to indicate heteronormative discourses as mobilised in Love Island. According to script theory, human behaviour falls into patterns that dictate cultural norms called ‘scripts’. The concept of sexual scripts was first introduced by Simon and Gagnon (1986) as a metaphor for understanding human sexual activity as social and learned interactions. Providing a framework of analysis for the sexual script in heterosexual interactions, this research draws on the notion of a ‘heterosexual script’ to indicate dominant discourses about heterosexual relationships (Kim et al., 2007). Kim et al. 2007 argue that the heterosexual script includes the dominant heteronormative discourse relating to heterosexual relationships on prime-time television. They explain that each component of the script conceptualizes a set of complementary but constitutionally unequal roles for men and women to follow in romantic and sexual interactions. The first component of the heterosexual script refers to the sexual double standard, which refers to the idea that men are sexual initiators whereas women are sexual ‘gatekeepers’. Depictions of male sexuality constitute a defining factor in masculinity, including men being obsessed with female bodies, being constantly consumed by sexual thoughts and urges, and talking openly about their sexual desires and experiences. In contrast, the heterosexual script expects women to suppress their sexuality and set sexual limits. The second component describes gendered courtship strategies. Men attract women using strategies of power, based in both physical strength and material wealth. Kim et al. (2007) describe the heroic gesture as an illustrative example of men’s courtship strategies in impressing women. In contrast, women use passive and alluring strategies to win men’s affection. Feminine courtship strategies involve self-objectification, adding that women are primarily valued for their physical appearance. The third component of the heterosexual script describes approaches toward commitment, explaining that men seek independence while women prioritize relationships. According to the heterosexual script, men avoid commitment, tease other men in monogamous relationships and prefer sexual fulfilment over emotional intimacy. This also relates to male infidelity being portrayed as uncontrollable. Women, on the other hand, are expected to want or need commitment. In addition, women without heterosexual relationship are perceived as deficient by society,

5 framing women’s love life as a public affair. The fourth component of the heterosexual script describes same-sex attraction. Only defining the rules men follow regarding same-sex attraction, the heterosexual script describes male-oriented homophobia while female homosexuality is appropriated by men. Men avoid anything that can be considered gay or feminine, while women are encouraged by men to engage in same-sex intimacy for male sexual pleasure (Kim et al., 2007). The heterosexual script thus represents two sides that operate simultaneously: a male and a female aspect. Seabrook et al. (2016) draw further on the heterosexual script by investigating the endorsement of the script in relation to television consumption. They argue that the script does not apply equally to men and women and therefore follows gendered dichotomies. They explain how the heterosexual script reflects an active/passive and a powerful/powerless dichotomy: “Men are active participants in their relationships by seeking out and initiating sex and demonstrating physical and material power; women are passive participants who must keep their sexuality in check and seek resources from men” (p. 339). The heterosexual script thus accounts for the ways dominant discourses about men and women in heterosexual relationships reinforce each other. For example, because men are considered sexual initiators, women have to take on the role of sexual gatekeepers. This aspect of the heterosexual script is carried throughout the research, indicating not only discourses about sexuality but also gender. Considering the framework of the heterosexual script, this research tries to demonstrate to what extend Love Island challenges heteronormative discourses. While providing an update on the panoptic function of the gaze in reality TV, this research explores whether Love Island confirms hegemonic scripts on heterosexual relationships or whether it provides resistance against dominant norms. This research focusses on the 2019 series of Love Island UK, conducting a content analysis of its 57 episodes and the viewers’ engagement on social media. In respect to the panoptic function of reality TV, this study distinguishes three levels of the reality TV gaze, divided over three chapters. Chapter One focusses on the external gaze in the show, answering the following question: how does the external gaze in Love Island operate in the gamified and architectural layout of the show and how does it relate to the heterosexual script? Within a theoretical framework of the architectural model of the panopticon, this chapter analyses the format and architectural structures of Love Island, providing generic examples that support the panopticon metaphor

6 and relate to the heterosexual script. Drawing on Foucault’s theory of the internalised gaze and normalisation, Chapter Two tries to answer the following question: how does the internalised gaze function among the Love Island contenders and how does it relate to the heterosexual script? By introducing the concept of agency to the panoptical discussion, the contenders of Love Island are considered autonomous agents that choose to mould themselves according to normative standards instead of being forced by the regulatory gaze. Framing the contenders as agents opens up the possibility of resistance against heteronormativity, supporting this chapter’s analysis of encounters that detract from the heterosexual script. Moving beyond the analysis of the broadcasts, Chapter Three focusses on the gaze of the viewers by conducting a social media content analysis and trying to answer the following question: what is the function of the gaze of the Love Island viewers and how does it relate to resistance against heteronormative discourses? Considering surveillance as a bonding mechanism that brings the viewers together, this chapter examines tweets from Love Island viewers to explore their role in resisting heteronormative discourses represented in the show.

7 1. External gazes

Considering Love Island as a reality game show “where a game element is introduced to a group of people in a controlled situation” (Hill, 2015, p. 162), the architectural and gamified layout of Love Island constitute an important element of the show. Being confined to the luxurious Love Island villa, the contenders are only allowed to leave the villa during mini- challenges, dates or when they are sent home, cutting the contenders off from any contact with the world outside the walls of the villa. The show’s recognizable setting with catchphrases in neon letters and brightly coloured bean bags therefore plays an important role in the Love Island experience. This chapter emphasizes the architectural and spatial aspects of Love Island while linking it to the model of the panopticon. Defining the panopticon model as an architectural framework that supports surveillance, this chapter investigates how the architectural structures of Love Island generate an omnivoyeuristic eye. Extending the panoptical structures of the show beyond its architectural layout, this chapter also focusses on the gamified format of Love Island in order to constitute a complete analysis of Love Island’s panoptical apparatus. Being a reality game show, the format of Love Island combines video surveillance with a gaming element that is evidently present in the overall game logic of the show as well as in mini-challenges the contenders have to participate in. Combining authentic and gamified situations, Love Island’s format allows the gaze to operate on different levels. Furthermore, the show’s gamified format that tasks the contenders of being in heterosexual relationships, provides the generic theme throughout the show that establishes heteronormative discourses. Being both a contribution to the show’s architectural structure as well as its format, the mounted cameras in Love Island constitute a common ground on which the panoptical structures operate to impose heteronormative discourses: a regulatory gaze. This chapter conducts a detailed description of Love Island’s panoptic machine as Foucault (1975) argues that it does not matter who supervises the panopticon as it is the machine itself that produces homogenous effects of power: “[i]t does not matter who exercises power. Any individual, taken almost at random, can operate the machine” (Foucault, 1975, p. 202). Examining the functions of the architectural and gamified layout of the show, this chapter

8 investigates the panoptical machine of Love Island to set up the analysis of the imposition of heteronormative discourses in Love Island.

The architectural structure of the panopticon The function of surveillance is best explained according to the model of the panopticon. Jeremy Bentham constructed the panoptical model in 1786. Unlike what most people think, Bentham’s intention for this model was not to build a prison, but to present “a general principle of construction, the polyvalent apparatus of surveillance, the universal optical machine of hum groupings” (Miller & Miller, 1987, p. 3). In other words, Bentham’s panopticon offered a regulatory architectural structure that could be used for prisons as well as schools, hospitals, factories and other public places that house constrained inhabitants (Miller & Miller, 1987). Describing the model with a focus on architecture, the panoptic apparatus is as follows:

The apparatus is a building. It is circular. There are cells around the circumference, on each floor. In the center, a tower. Between the center and the circumference is a neutral, intermediate zone. Each cell has a window to the outside, so constructed that air and light can enter, but the view outside is blocked; each cell also has a grilled door that opens toward the inside so that air and light can circulate to the central core. The cells can be viewed from the rooms in the central tower, but a system of shutters prevents those rooms or their inhabitants from being seen from the cells. The building is surrounded by an annular wall. Between this wall and the building there is a walkway for sentries. There is only one entrance or exit to the building or through the outer wall. The building is completely closed. (Miller & Miller, 1987, p. 3)

The panopticon building generates surveillance because of its architectural structure. Bentham explains two elements that are fundamental to the panoptical surveillance model: a central surveillance system and the invisibility of the gaze (Miller & Miller, 1987). Bentham argues that the surveillance system works best in a circular shape because it enables the perfect subdivision of identical cells within an area that is homogeneously lit. The tower in

9 the centre is the only differentiated area, which indicates that everything outside the tower is equal but submissive to the power inside the tower (Miller & Miller, 1987). From the central point, nothing is hidden and everything is totally transparent, meaning the tower is also visible for the inhabitants of the cells. The visibility of the tower then symbolizes the power of the invisible gaze as the gaze itself can’t be seen, describing Bentham’s second principle to the supervising gaze: unverifiability. The inhabitants of the panopticon are able to see the surveillance tower, but the specific movements and moments of the supervisor watching are unseen. The gaze in the panopticon may look at the inhabitants while not being observed, as the person in the tower is concealed. Jacques-Alain Miller and Richard Miller (1987) suggest that “by concealing itself in the shadows, the eye can intensify its powers” (p. 4). Because the inhabitants cannot know when the eye is observing, they cannot control their surveillance. Miller and Miller (1987) describe the gaze in the regulatory framework of the panopticon as “the invisible omnivoyeur” (p. 4). The panopticon thus works according to an active/passive dichotomy of visibility: the inhabitant is seen without seeing and the supervisor sees without being seen. The invisibility of the gaze is therefore an important element in the function of power in the panopticon. The metaphor of the omnivoyeuristic eye relates to Thomas Mathiesen’s (1997) theory of surveillance practices in mass media, where the eye is omnivoyeuristic because it stands for the large number of viewers that are actually observing. Returning to the panopticon, he argues that not only do we live in a society with panoptic institutions where the few see the many, but modern mass media have enabled “the many to see and contemplate the few” (Mathiesen, 1997, p. 219). Mathiesen (1997) calls this latter development synopticism, describing a situation in where a large number of people observe the same thing. At first, the two models appear to be the opposite of each other. However, Mathiesen (1997) argues that panopticism and synopticism have developed into close reciprocity with each other. He illustrates this with several historical examples, like the prison chapels from the 1800s. These were panoptical in that the minister was able to see all prisoners that were sitting isolated in their booth, while at the same time they were synoptical as the prisoners in their booths could only see the minister (Mathiesen, 1997). Today, this interaction of panopticism and synopticism has taken new forms in terms of media, resulting in technologies that merge the few seeing the many and the many seeing the few. Television, reality TV in particular, is a perfect example of this synergy. The

10 omnivoyeuristic eye in the surveillance apparatus of reality TV not only refers to the lens of the camera, but also to the ones who are actually observing and remaining unseen: the viewers at home. The fact that the viewers at home are not visible to the people being watched is an important panoptical principle manifested in reality TV.

Game logic and the gaze of the camera Reality show Love Island operates with an omnivoyeuristic eye, since the contenders are under constant video surveillance. The Love Island villa is equipped with 73 cameras to capture the movement of the contenders 24 hours a day (Giddens & Kavanagh, 2019). The cameras are visible to the contenders and are placed in every space inside and around the villa, including the bedroom, bathroom and outside area. The camera in Love Island thus represents the tower in the panopticon; visible for the contenders while keeping the eyes of the actual observer invisible. The contenders of Love Island thus live in a panopticon-like setting. Not everything they do is observed by the gaze of the camera but they live with the knowledge that their actions and words could be seen at any moment and edited for broadcast. The element of video surveillance thus accommodates an omnivoyeuristic eye that exercises power over the show’s contenders to behave accordingly. The panoptic principles of Love Island thus function as a regulatory framework that imposes certain behaviour on its contenders. As every reality show is different, different sets of rules apply. In order to understand what behaviour is imposed on the contenders of Love Island, it is therefore important to look at the format of the show. The show starts with five male and five female contenders. Throughout the show, new contenders are introduced into the villa and contenders are sent home. The main purpose of Love Island is to ‘couple up’. This means contenders must form heterosexual pairs in order to stay on the show, as contenders who are single risk being removed from the show. Every week the contenders are offered the choice to couple up with someone else or stay loyal to their current partner during the ‘recoupling’ ceremony. The game rule of coupling up thus functions as the number one rule in the villa, building suspense towards the recoupling ceremonies every week. When contenders are not romantically interested in any of the others, they must couple up anyway to prevent being removed from the show. Love Island’s game logic thus forces its contenders to be in heterosexual relationships, offering a starting point for analysing heteronormative discourses in the show.

11 The first coupling up, for example, supports the gendered courtship strategies of the heterosexual script. During this first coupling ceremony, the female contenders are lined up while the male contenders are introduced to them one by one. The women are asked to take a step forward if they are interested in the man standing before them. Yet, it is then up to the men to decide who they want to be coupled up with (episode 5.01). The women stepping forward to show their interest and the men having the final say in the matter conform to the heterosexual script regarding courtship strategies where men are considered initiators and women passively indicate interest and await the man’s invitation. However, in the following recoupling ceremonies both men and women are able to choose who they want to couple up with, suggesting that women can be initiators as well as men. Love Island’s game logic of coupling up forces its contenders to commit to each other. Considering the heterosexual script in respect to masculine and feminine commitment, the show exposes the key contradiction of heterosexual relationships. The show’s element of coupling up demands its contenders to be in relationships and avoid independence. It therefore supports the female aspect of wanting commitment whereas it challenges the male aspect of wanting independence. Here the key contradiction in the heterosexual script is exposed, since heterosexual relationships cannot exist without the commitment of men. However, by offering the contenders the opportunity to recouple, Love Island places itself right in the middle of this contradiction in the script. Although the contenders are obliged to be in relationships, the recoupling ceremonies gives them the opportunity to swap partners. So, despite the fact that the contenders have to be in relationships, the constantly swapping of partners, on the other hand, indicates a lack of commitment. Considering this, the recoupling ceremonies then support the male aspect of not wanting to commit to one person as well. The game logic of coupling up operates on a macro level throughout the series but the game aspect of Love Island also operates on a micro level. Throughout the series, the contenders compete against each other in mini-challenges that test their mental and physical capabilities. During the challenges, men compete against women, couples compete against each other, men compete against other men or women compete against each other women. The contenders are notified through text shortly beforehand, yet there is nothing spontaneous about these challenges. Preparation is required as every challenge has its own theme with matching décor and sometimes outfits for the contenders. The challenges are a

12 recurring element of the show that play a significant role in representing heteronormative discourses in the show. However, the heteronormativity in the challenges is presented in a rather straightforward way, feeding into heteronormative courtship strategies. For example, in ‘The Good, the Bad and the Sexy’ challenge the men are judged on their sexiness as they complete cowboy-themed challenges including a bull ride and rescuing a woman from the train tracks (episode 5.05). The situation of the damsel in distress that is recreated in this challenge allows the men to display heteronormative male courtship strategies that focus on diligence and power, including the heroic gesture (Kim et al., 2007). The challenges where the women compete against each other also show a straightforward representation that feeds into the heteronormative discourse of women objectifying themselves as female courtship strategies (Kim et al., 2007). In the ‘Gym Bunnies’ challenge the women have to race to complete a number of gym-themed challenges in the quickest time while the men are given the role of personal trainer (episode 5.21). The objectification of the women in this challenge prevails in the choice of clothing for the contenders. While the men wear traditional sportswear, the women are dressed up as sexy bunnies including fishnet stockings and strapless, high-cut bodysuits. The sexy outfits do not support the contenders during the challenge in the literal sense of the word as well as the women are holding on to their strapless bodysuits while doing the challenge. Rather, the outfits sexualise the female contenders and suggest that it is more important for them to look good than to do good in the challenge, feeding into the discourse of women being primarily valued for their physical appearance (Kim et al., 2007). Aside from the very straightforward representation of the heterosexual script, the challenges provide campy representations of gender stereotypes. During the ‘The Good, the Bad and the Sexy’ challenge the men wear farcical cowboy outfits, including a stripper pants with tight shorts underneath, contributing to a campy representation of masculinity. The stripper pants also relate to the challenge’s focus on the sexiness of the male contenders. While riding the bull and rescuing the women, the men exaggerate their sexiness with sexy dance moves and untie the woman on the train tracks with their mouth instead of their hands. This adds a sense of performance to the challenges rather than natural behaviour, contributing to the campy representation of heteronormative masculinity. The ‘Gym Bunnies’ challenge represents a campy representation of female heteronormativity as the women are sexualised in an overexaggerated way by their outfits but also by the exercises of

13 the course. For example, the women have to eat a carrot that is hanging on a string above them, putting the women in a sexualised position that represents them performing fellatio. Yet, as the women are not allowed to use their hands, the performance becomes comical, adding to the idea that it should not be taken seriously. As a show that is based on heterosexual relationships, the exaggerated presentations of heteronormative discourses suggest that Love Island tries to counterbalance its general heteronormativity by overrepresenting and mocking tiring stereotypes in the challenges. However, the use of tiring stereotypes in the challenges is more focused on campy presentations of gender while making the contenders look sexy, contributing to their status as eye candy. Therefore, instead of undermining stereotypes, the representation in the challenges intensifies gender effects and ends up upholding heteronormative discourses. In terms of the gaze, the challenges offer the perfect opportunity for the overrepresentation of heteronormative discourses as they take place outside the panoptical setting of the Love Island villa. The mini-challenges are staged and take place on a separate location with cameramen on set. Hence, the panoptical principles are lost as the contenders can see when the cameras are pointed towards them and thus know when they are being watched. Ex-contender Zara explained that the challenges reminded the contenders that they were being watched: “There was like a full squad of cameramen and producers, and it was like a reminder that you were on a TV programme" (O’Malley, 2019). While undermining the panoptical principles, the challenges in Love Island open up the possibility of gamified presentations of heteronormative stereotypes, resulting in ‘knowing performances’ of heteronormative discourses. Because the contenders know when they are being watched, the omnivoyeuristic eye does not hold ultimate power anymore, threatening a more natural representation of heteronormative discourses when the gaze of the camera happens to watch. Not all challenges take place in the challenge area such as the ‘Couples Quiz’ challenge which is located in the villa setting. In this challenge the contenders sit around the fire pit in the outside area of the villa, and are asked to answer questions about the person they are coupled up with (episode 5.47). During this challenge, the heterosexual script still operates but less campily than in the gamified challenges. The questions relating to the female contenders include topics like family and embarrassing moments, whereas the questions relating to the male contenders are more about sexuality such as favourite sex

14 position and number of sexual partners. The questions about the men feed into the discourse that men are open about their sexuality and constantly consumed by sexual thoughts whereas the lack of questions on sexuality for the women suggests that women are judged by their sexual conduct (Kim et al., 2007). The ‘Couples Quiz’ challenge allows heteronormative discourses to perform more naturally as it takes place within the panoptic structure of the Love Island villa. The gaze of the camera is watching but it remains unknown for the contenders when they are being observed. Because they are not constantly aware of the gaze of the camera, social scripts operate more naturally during this challenge resulting in rather ‘unknowing performances’ of heteronormativity and gendered standards.

Space and a second gaze The challenges in Love Island show the significance of space in the regulatory framework of the show and its role in supporting heteronormativity. Placing the contenders within heteronormative discourse in the literal meaning of the word, Love Island provides the contenders with two ‘gendered’ spaces: the women’s dressing room and the men’s outdoor gym. The purpose of these spaces, putting work into physical appearance and working out, feeds into gendered courtship strategies. The configuration of these gendered spaces in Love Island feeds into the heterosexual script as the female body is expected to be sexy whereas the male body should be muscular (Kim et al., 2007). The women’s dressing room is a small square space that is fully surrounded by walls. Against the walls are closets for the women to store their clothes and in the middle of the room stands a circular dressing table with mirrors placed on top of it. The dressing room functions as wardrobe to store clothes and beauty products as well as a space for the women to get ready in. The fact that the women are given a separate room for dressing up while the men have to get ready in the bedroom or bathroom imposes the heteronormative discourse of the objectification of women. A separate dressing room suggests that women need more space to get ready as they are expected to put more effort in it, enforcing the belief that women are primarily valued for their physical appearance. The second space in the Love Island villa that imposes heteronormative discourses is the gym area. This space is not officially appointed by the show to the male contenders, but it attracts them more than the female contenders. It functions as a space where the contenders are able to work on their bodies by lifting weights

15 and doing other exercises, feeding into the discourse that men are valued for their strength. The gym is located outside, framed by two walls with mirrors on them in the corner of the garden. In contrast to the dressing room, there are no additional walls that separate the exterior gym from the rest of the outside area, creating an open space that makes the exercising contenders visible for others in the outside area as well. Because of this, the gym simultaneously operates as a place to showcase strength to the other contenders as well, feeding more into the discourse of the strong man that uses his strength to impress women (Kim et al. 2007). The gym here exposes an important aspect of space in Love Island; it is shared with the other contenders. The architectural layout of the gym brings us to an important element of the Love Island panopticon, namely that the contenders also watch each other. So far, the gaze of the camera has represented the omnivoyeuristic eye in Love Island. In Bentham’s model, the inhabitants of the panopticon are separated from one another and confined in their own cell, which can only be seen by the supervisor in the tower. Yet, this principle does not apply to the contenders of Love Island as they live together in the same space. The aspect of cohabitation in Love Island allows a second gaze to operate: the gaze of the other contenders. Because the contenders live together, they are also under constant surveillance by each other. By watching each other, every move they make turns into a public act. In turn, the contenders know they are being watched by the others, translating into a second regulatory gaze in the panopticon of Love Island. This marks a shift in the way regulatory power in Love Island operates. Foucault (1975) explains that each inhabitant’s invisibility to other inhabitants in the panopticon preserves control and domination for the supervising gaze, functioning as a guarantee for order. However, the contenders in Love Island do not live in solitude and are thus able to watch others as well. By doing so, the contenders exercise power over the other contenders. This means that the gaze of the camera does not hold ultimate power over its contenders, as the gaze of the contenders also has the power to regulate and impose behaviour on others. Love Island encourages surveillance by the gaze of the contenders as the villa is very spacious with multiple different areas and settings, including outdoor and indoor spaces. The villa thus looks different from Bentham’s ideal circular shape. The essence of this circular shape is that it provides total transparency, which is needed in order to create total visibility (Miller & Miller, 1987). Still, this is translated in the outside area of the Love Island

16 villa. The outside area is the space where the contenders hang out most of the time. It consists of different areas, such as the pool, the outside kitchen, the day beds and the famous fire pit. The openness in the architectural layout of the villa’s exterior space thus encourages surveillance. Yet, the villa’s interior space also encourages surveillance as it consists of shared, open spaces, like the bedroom. The contestants sleep together in a communal bedroom as they share a bed with the person they are coupled up with. With the bedroom being a communal open space, it creates visibility for the gaze of the camera and the fellow contenders. The architectural layout of the bedroom therefore encourages surveillance from both the gaze of the camera and the gaze of the contenders. The concept of sharing a bed when in a couple exposes a conflict in terms of the sexual double standard. Since sleeping together is associated with the act of having sex, sharing a bed both supports and contradicts the heteronormative discourse. It supports the male aspect suggesting that men are constantly consumed with sexual urges and are considered sexual initiators (Kim et al., 2007). At the same time, sharing a bed challenges the female aspect of the sexual double standard imposing women to keep set sexual limits (Kim et al., 2007). The regulatory gazes in the bedroom impose both these discourses. Men try to prove their masculinity to the other men in the room; Jordan, for example, says “Step into my office” while raising his eyebrows suggestively to the men next to him when his partner Anna steps into the bed (episode 5.49, 15:16). In contrast, the women are afraid to be judged by their sexual behaviour. For example, when female contender Molly-Mae tells the girls that she and her partner Tommy were up for hours one night, Maura responds to her: “Yeah I’ve fucking seen.” Molly-Mae responds that she doesn’t know what Maura is talking about, to which Maura suggestively says, “There was something going down!” (episode 5.23 22:45). Maura’s comment causes Molly-Mae to deny the fact that she did anything sexual with Tommy. Considering the heteronormative expectation that women should limit their sexual conduct, this example shows that the gaze of contenders also imposes heteronormative behaviour. Moreover, the conversation between Maura and Molly-Mae exposes an important aspect of the gaze of the contenders: audibility. Being in the same, open space allows contenders to eavesdrop as well as comment on each other. Maura heard the noises Molly- Mae and her partner made the night before and comments on them the morning after. The gaze of the contender is then turned into an active gaze that not only watches but also

17 listens and is able to ‘talk back’ to its subject. The gaze of the camera, on the other hand, is not able to comment. Still, the gaze of the camera constitutes an important regulatory force that is able to hear more than the contenders. While the contenders are obliged to wear microphones at all times, the camera is able to hear the contenders even at visual distance. This special access of the gaze of the camera will be explored further in Chapter Three. Love Island offers two spaces where the contenders are able to escape the gaze of the contenders while encouraging them to challenge heteronormative behaviour. In order to hide from the gaze of the contenders in the bedroom, couples are occasionally offered a night in the ‘Hideaway’. Couples get access to the Hideaway at random or sometimes as a reward for winning a challenge. Being a completely closed-off room with no windows, the only private bedroom in the villa offers couples the opportunity to hide from the prying eyes of their fellow contenders, hence its suitable name. Its décor is romantic and sexy, implying the private room offers a romantic getaway, encouraging the contenders to ‘get frisky’ between the sheets and thereby challenge the women’s role in the heterosexual script as sexual gatekeeper. Offering an escape from the gaze of the contenders and encouraging sexual behaviour, the Hideaway provides are space where female contenders are more likely to challenge the heterosexual script and engage in sexual activity. However, in response to backlash against ex-contenders who were shown having sex on the show and in a bid to make the show less tacky, Love Island censors sex scenes. Providing privacy from the others, the second private space in Love Island, the so- called Beach Hut, also opens up the possibility for challenging behaviour in respect to the heterosexual script. The Beach Hut is a diary room where the contenders are able to talk to the producers of the show through a speaker about their highs and lows in the villa. The gaze of the camera remains but operates differently, as the contenders speak directly into the camera. The contenders are thus aware of the gaze of the camera that is observing them, breaking the panoptical principle of the invisible eye. However, rather than conforming to heteronormativity because they are reminded of the fact that they are being watched, contenders challenge heteronormative discourses as the Beach Hut is considered a safe space for the contenders where they are offered privacy from the others. For example, Kitty Nichols (2019) examined that the diary room in Love Island functions as a space for male contenders to challenge hegemonic masculinity. After the ‘Men at Work’ challenge where the men compete against each other as they have to finish a builder-themed obstacle

18 course, male contender Anton confessed in the Beach Hut: “I will not be around Belle’s house doing any maintenance work at all. If I need to go there for plucking her eyebrows, shaving her legs or that stuff, I’m your man” (episode 5.46, 26:15), challenging heteronormative ideas about masculinity. The Hideaway and Beach Hut therefore show that being separated from the gaze of the other contenders opens up possibilities to resist heteronormativity, even though the contenders know they are being watched by the gaze of the camera. Focussing on the external gaze in the panoptical machine of Love Island, heteronormative discourses are imposed and supported by multiple elements of the show. As a reality show with a gamified format, Love Island represents heteronormative discourses in a campy as well as a more natural way. The show’s format in combination with its open architectural layout allows us to consider a panopticon that operates with two external gazes: the gaze of the camera and the gaze of the contenders. Both gazes impose heteronormative behaviour while separating the contenders from each other encourages behaviour that challenges the heterosexual script. Furthermore, the notion of the omnivoyeuristic eye is extended as Love Island exposes the audibility of the gaze. Therefore, considering the aspect of cohabitation and the audibility of the gaze, this chapter offers a review of the panoptic function of the reality TV gaze.

19 2. The internalised gaze

“The gaze which is inscribed in the very structure of the disciplinary institution is internalized by the inmate; modern technologies of behavior are thus oriented toward the production of isolated and self-policing subjects” (Bartky, 1998, p. 106).

The previous chapter exposed how Love Island’s format and architecture create a panoptic framework where heteronormativity is enforced. Driven by an omnivoyeuristic gaze, whether from the camera or the other contenders, Love Island creates a framework in which the contenders are expected to behave according heteronormative discourses. Yet, reality TV would not be as popular as it is if it were not for contenders that try to challenge the norms of appropriate behaviour. Love Island’s female contender Maura is the figurehead of challenging behaviour in the 2019 series. Nicknamed ‘Hurricane Maura’, she continued to be subject of conversation inside and outside the villa because of her sexual allusions throughout the season. Her catchphrase ‘fanny flutters’, which she used to describe men who she found attractive, was even printed on clothing, postcards and coffee mugs. Focussing on the contenders’ own behaviour, this chapter moves from an external regulating gaze to an internalised gaze by introducing Foucault’s theory of discipline by means of Bentham’s panopticon. The chapter further examines to what extent imposed discourses can be resisted by the contenders of Love Island.

Discipline in the panopticon: internalisation & agency Building on Bentham’s model of the panopticon, Foucault (1975) argues that modern society is disciplined through surveillance and uses Bentham’s architectural figure to illustrate this. According to Foucault (1975), the invisibility of the gaze to its subject creates an important function of power. He explains that because the subject of the gaze cannot know if they are being observed, they must assume that the gaze is there. This assumption causes the subject to behave as though they are always being watched, leading them to fulfil the role of both external and internal regulator:

20 He who is subjected to a field of visibility, and who knows it, assumes responsibility for the constraints of power; he makes them play spontaneously upon himself; he inscribes in himself the power relation in which he simultaneously plays both roles; he becomes the principle of his own subjection. (Foucault, 1975, p. 202-203)

Foucault (1975) explains that the implicit presence of the supervising gaze causes the inhabitants to monitor themselves and adopt the behaviour that the authorities want to see, even without the latter necessarily looking. He uses the metaphor of the panopticon to mark a shift in the exercise of power, whereby the subjects of the gaze themselves function as a part of the surveillance mechanism. The panoptical gaze thus works as a regulatory force that imposes self-regulating behaviour. Even though the inhabitants have no actual proof that they are being watched by the supervising gaze, they behave as though they were. The knowledge that the inhabitant may be visible to the gaze creates an automatic function of power that is exercised by the inhabitant on himself, resulting in an internalised gaze. The inhabitants are induced into “a state of conscious and permanent visibility that assures the automatic function of power” (Foucault, 1975, p. 201), meaning the inhabitants self-regulate at all times. The invisibility of the gaze therefore results in a shift of how power operates: from the external gaze to internal self-regulation. The panoptical gaze thus functions as a power mechanism that creates ‘docile bodies’ that are a part of the power mechanism (Foucault, 1975). James Wong (2011), however, draws attention to an ambiguity in Foucault’s theory of the internalised gaze. This ambiguity lies in the fact that, on the one hand, an exterior gaze exercises power over the inhabitants, while on the other hand the inhabitants regulate themselves and thus power is exercised from within, imposing an internalised discipline. Internalising the gaze turns the subjects of power into the agents of power as well, implying that they use this power against themselves. In order to make sense of this ambiguity, Wong (2011) introduces the concept of agency to the panopticon discussion:

There is, then, an ambiguity in the processes of normalization and discipline (Code, 2000). We are not always victims of oppression. The interpretation of Foucault’s notions of surveillance and discipline offered here has the virtue of recognizing individuals as autonomous agents. (Wong, 2011, p. 41)

21 Considering the inhabitants of the panopticon as agents, Wong (2011) emphasizes that the power in the panopticon operates through an internalised discipline, rather than fear or punishment. Since being subject to the gaze automatically results in the internalisation of the gaze, this implies that the panoptical gaze is oppressive, ignoring the opportunity for resistance. He explains that because of the prominence of surveillance in Foucault’s theory, it is easy to assume that the inhabitants of the panopticon are victims of disciplinary practices. However, by arguing that the panopticon metaphor has two sides, surveillance and agency, Wong (2011) suggests that instead of being a victim who is subject to domination, individuals are agents who have the ability to make their own choices. Instead of describing the panopticon as a top-down force that dominates and oppresses its inhabitants, Wong (2011) explains that inhabitants who are under the panoptical gaze perform an act of self-constitution. Discipline is therefore not something that is done to them, but rather something the inhabitants choose to do to themselves. This is important in relation to normalisation as agency marks the difference between inhabitants being forced into obeying the gaze and wanting to mould themselves according to disciplinary norms: “These are things we do to ourselves. But if we acted on ourselves, the implication would be that we are not necessarily victims” (Wong, 2011, p. 40). Wong (2011) explains that people want to be normal as abnormality generates marginalization. Inhabitants therefore choose to mould themselves to the norm as they are afraid to be excluded and disempowered. According to Wong (2001), then, Foucault’s analysis suggests that:

[W]hile disciplinary power makes possible the domain for various subject positions, it does not set the position of any individual in a deterministic way. These subject positions are contingent, which means they can be otherwise. (p. 42)

In the process of normalisation, the disciplinary power of the panopticon does not determine the position of the individuals; rather, the individuals position themselves according to the norm. Wong (2001) explains that individuals who make themselves subject to normalised categories negotiate their boundaries as much as they are able to do so and that few individuals fit their normalised role perfectly. This would mean that individuals in

22 the panopticon are able to use their agency to resist the norm that is imposed on them, if not fully, then at least as a negotiation of boundaries. Following Wong’s (2001) argument, we can consider the contenders of Love Island as agents who choose (to some extent) whether they comply with the disciplinary practices imposed on them. The omnipresent gaze of the camera and of the contenders at each other therefore does not guarantee disciplined normalisation among the contenders. Furthermore, if Wong (2001) is right, the process of normalisation is directed by a sense of agency that allows the contenders to negotiate boundaries and to some extent even resist them. As seen in Chapter One, the panoptical structures of Love Island impose heteronormative discourses on the contenders, but only by examining the internalised gaze and the agency that the contenders have in Love Island can it be shown to what extent they are able to resist in the process of normalisation.

Internalisation of the gaze in Love Island As the gaze of the other contenders demonstrates, looking at others is an important element in Love Island, but the contenders are also concerned with how they look to others. The contenders of Love Island live with the idea that they are constantly being watched by multiple gazes: the omnipresent gaze of the camera, the implicit gaze of the viewers and the external gazes of their fellow contenders. What they are less aware of, presumably, is that they also operate according to an internalised gaze. The previous chapter has mentioned the presence of mirrors in the Love Island setting, but now we are in a better position to appreciate the mirror as the exemplification of the internalised gaze in Love Island. Looking in the mirror means looking at oneself, looking at one’s reflection, but it also means checking on how one looks, exposing the double meaning of the word ‘look’ in the context of Love Island. The looks of the contenders as a reference to their physical appearance is an important element of the show’s format. Being watched 24 hours day, ex-contenders admit that the pressure to look good at all times is one of the first considerations (Shadijanova, 2020). Being filmed in swimwear, the expectation for the contenders to maintain their status as eye candy is a crucial part of being on the show. The mirror plays an important role in this process. Situated in the dressing room and gym, spaces where the contenders work on their aesthetic, the mirror serves as a medium to look at one’s appearance, making an internal judgement about whether it meets external standards. Judging oneself in the mirror is thus a

23 form of self-regulation. For example, the women in the dressing room, judge their appearance in the mirror after putting on new sets of clothes or after they have done their hair or makeup, adjusting or ‘fixing’ it when it is off in some way by, for example, applying more makeup. This brings us to the second meaning of the word look: the act of visually examining something. When looking in the mirror, one looks at oneself, meaning the gaze is directed at the self. Looking in the mirror therefore creates a perfect metaphor for illustrating the internalised gaze. The internalised gaze operates from within the contenders and is directed at oneself. When looking in the mirror, the contenders are able see their reflection and judge whether their look is appropriate. The mirror then can be seen as a medium that channels this internalised gaze. Judging oneself in the mirror on physical appearance illustrates how the women in Love Island regulate themselves. Aside from working on physical appearance, the dressing room also functions as a safe space to discuss and gossip about the male contenders. For example, after a couple spends the night in the Hideaway, the female contenders gather in the dressing room to discuss what happened. Amy and Curtis were the first couple to go to the Hideaway and, on the morning after, the female contenders sit around the dressing table, each facing the mirrors that are placed in a circle at the centre of the table (episode 5.09). While facing the mirror, Amy tells the others that she didn’t do anything sexual with Curtis, but that they did express their feelings for each other and agreed to a ‘half- relationship’. Amy looks in the mirror and comments: “She is no longer a single lady” (episode 5.09, 32:59). Using the metaphor of the mirror to describe the internalised gaze, this example illustrates that the contenders also regulate themselves regarding their behaviour. While looking at herself, Amy confirms that she has behaved appropriately, as she succeeded her role as sexual gatekeeper and has managed to be in a ‘half-relationship’ and thus managed to follow the heterosexual script. Looking at her own reflection, she realises she finally fits in as she has never had a boyfriend before. In addition, the fact that she refers to herself in the third person highlights the idea of the internalised gaze, as it sounds like she is talking to her reflection, representing both the external and internal regulator. Using the concept of the mirror thus illustrates both sides of the internalised gaze in that the gaze is imposed by the same person that it regulates. The contenders of Love Island are encouraged to internalise the gaze because they don’t know which of their actions will actually be seen by the viewer at home as the camera

24 footage is first edited before it is broadcasted. The invisibility of the implicit gaze of the Love Island viewer therefore ensures the internalisation of the gaze. However, the Love Island setting allows the contenders to watch each other as well. In contrast to the gaze of the camera, the gaze of other contenders is visible, which in Foucauldian terms would mean it does not generate the automatic function of power that internalises the gaze. Yet, considering Wong’s (2001) argument about agency, the contenders in Love Island are less oppressed by each other’s external gazes than they are agents who choose to what extent they accept norms. In Love Island, the Casa Amor twist places itself right in the middle of this ambiguity. The Casa Amor component is a fixed element in Love Island that cuts off the couples from each other’s gaze. The couples are separated without notice beforehand. The women are brought to a second villa, called Casa Amor, while the men stay in the main villa. They live three days apart from each other while new contenders of the opposite sex are introduced in both villas. Being separated from the external gaze of their partners, the Casa Amor twist stimulates the contenders to ‘crack on’ with the new arrivals, testing the original couples’ commitment towards each other. The fact that their partners can’t serve as an external gaze is important in this experiment as it shows whether the contenders have internalised the gaze or not, meaning whether they comply with the appropriate behaviour that their partner wants to see. At the end of the three days in Casa Amor, all the contestants are reunited in the main villa during a recoupling ceremony that is also known as the ‘Stick or Twist’. During this ceremony, the contestants have to couple up by announcing their choices without knowing if their partner has connected with someone new. The Casa Amor twist therefore expressly represents the agency the contenders have in Love Island, as the three-day separation works towards the question: are you going to stay loyal or couple up with someone new? The 2019 series shows that the contenders do not hold back in making their own choices. For example, male contender Michael chose to leave his partner Amber for new contender Joanna. Amber, on the other hand, was not interested in other men and chose to stay loyal to Michael, leaving her single after the recoupling. Female contender Anna also chose a new contender, Ovie, to couple up with, leaving her current partner Jordan, who wanted to stick with her, single (episode 5.30). Male contender Curtis’ decision, however, shows the limits of the contender’s agency. Being apart from his partner Amy and able to meet new women, he realised that he was missing something in his relationship with Amy. New girl, Jourdan,

25 caught his eye and he wanted to couple up with her. However, another contender, Danny, also wanted to couple up with Jourdan and was given first choice during the recoupling ceremony, causing him to steal Jourdan away before Curtis could make his decision. This example shows that agency in Love Island has limits and should be understood within the rules of the show. Love Island imposes different sets of rules on its contenders, which causes the internalised gaze to work on different levels – namely, within the rules of the show, within the rules of the game and within heteronormative discourses. As seen in the previous chapter, the latter set of rules interweaves itself with the rules of the game and operates on an abstract level in Love Island in that it does not have any consequences regarding elimination from the show. The set of rules concerning heteronormative discourses therefore operates in a more implicit way and does not influence the extent of agency given to the contenders by the show’s producers. The rules of the show and the rules of the game, on the other hand, limit the contenders’ agency, creating a fixed regulatory framework the contenders are obliged to stay within in order to participate in Love Island. In order to understand to what extent the contenders have agency in Love Island, these two sets of rules must be explored further. The fact that the game of Love Island is mediated and broadcasted creates the first level of a regulatory framework in which the internalised gaze works. As a television show, Love Island has drawn up a code of conduct for its contenders that imposes certain standards of ethical behaviour. For example, contenders are not allowed to show nudity and can only have a maximum of two glasses of alcohol a night (Parry, 2019). The gaze of the camera watches the contenders, making sure they follow these rules. If the contenders are caught breaking the rules, they are removed from the show. To prevent that from happening, the contenders thus have to internalise the gaze and regulate themselves according to this code of conduct. This gaze operates behind the scenes and outside the game play of the show, meaning it is not overtly visible on TV. In the 2019 series, male contender Sherif failed to internalise this gaze and was ejected from the show for “breaking the show code of conduct” (Martin, 2019). His exit was not broadcasted; instead, the voice- over of the show announced that Sherif had left the villa without providing the viewer with an explanation as to why he left: “Earlier today, following conversations with producers, Sherif left the villa” (episode 5.09, 33:55). Despite the fact that Love Island’s code of conduct

26 is not presented in the broadcast, it does function as a part of the show’s regulatory framework, serving as one of the ways the internalised gaze works in the space of Love Island. Besides the code of conduct, Love Island is also involved with game rules that frame the game logic of the show. These rules determine whether the contenders are in or out of the game. For example, contenders have to be coupled up and they are not allowed to have contact with the outside world. The contenders have to behave according to these rules, so they have to internalise this gaze in order to be in the game. In contrast to the code of conduct that operates behind the scenes, the game rules are very visible in the show. For example, when contenders fail to couple up, they are removed from the show. A more striking example is when Amy left the show after talking to the producers because she could not abide by the rules of dating someone else once her heart was broken by Curtis after the Casa Amor twist. Knowing that she would fail to internalise the gaze of the game rules, she voluntarily left the villa before being kicked off the show (episode 5.37). Even though Amy chose to leave the villa voluntarily prior to the eliminations, the contenders’ agency regarding whether to follow the game rules or not is limited. Contenders cannot negotiate their boundaries and remain in the game, meaning they are forced to abide by the game rules. If contenders are not able to follow the rules, they are out the game and consequently removed from the show. Paradoxically, the elimination ceremonies in Love Island are based on the agency of the contenders. Allowing them to decide each other’s fate, contenders can be eliminated in different ways. As mentioned before, not being chosen during the recoupling ceremonies and thus failing to couple up causes contenders to be eliminated. A second type of elimination asks the contenders to nominate their fellow contenders, putting them at risk of being voted off the show by the public. This also happens the other way around; the public nominates couples and the contenders then have to vote which contenders have to leave the villa. Love Island thus limits the contenders’ agency in regard to staying in the game while, on the other hand, assuming the contenders’ agency as a part of Love Island’s game logic.

27

Resistance in Love Island and the gendered gaze Whether the contenders conform the imposed heteronormative discourses discussed in Chapter One depends on the internalisation of the gaze, meaning the extent to which they choose to mould themselves to the norm. Wong (2011) explains that discipline results not only in individuals moulding themselves to the norm, but they also form social categories within the norm. Referring to Foucault, he explains that individuals are not repressed or altered by our social order, but rather fabricated in it, creating social categories: “For Foucault, then, various disciplinary regimes are constitutive of the categories describing people and their behaviour” (p. 40). Considering these social categories and their complementary behaviour opens up the examination of normalisation in Love Island and resistance against it. In relation to these social categories, Sandra Lee Bartky (1997) writes about the importance of gender in Foucault’s theory of the panopticon. She refines Foucault’s notion of ‘docile bodies’ by arguing that not all bodies are affected in the same way by disciplinary practices: “Foucault treats the body throughout as if it were one, as if the bodily experiences of men and women did not differ” (p. 95). By acknowledging that not all bodies are affected by the same disciplinary practices, Bartky (1997) draws our attention to the gendering of the internalised gaze, reminding us that it is important to consider who is being watched when discussing heteronormative discourses. In her research, Bartky (1997) specifically focusses on the gaze that affects the female body. She argues that disciplinary practices that focus on constructing a heteronormative body which is recognized as feminine must be understood in light of patriarchal discourses. According to Bartky (1997), contemporary patriarchal culture causes women to be under the constant gaze of men: “In contemporary patriarchal culture, a panoptical male connoisseur resides within the consciousness of most women: they stand perpetually before his gaze and, under his judgment” (p. 101). Disciplinary practices imposed on women therefore operate from the male gaze, and can be internalised as such. Bartky (1997) explains that because of the omnipresent male gaze, women are expected to objectify themselves all the time, meaning women have to internalise this male gaze. Rosalind Gill (2009) explains the phenomenon of the internalised male gaze when discussing the representation of women in midriff advertising. These advertisements present

28 sexualised women’s self-objectification as a way of pleasing and empowering themselves and, in the process, happening to win men’s attention. However, Gill (2009) counters this misconception of empowerment by arguing that the power of the male gaze has shifted from “an external male-judging gaze to a self-policing narcissistic gaze” (p. 107). The male gaze is thus exploited in a new disciplinary regime where women have internalised the gaze. The idea that women are literally being watched by men has developed into an automatic function of power that regulates women by ensuring that they gaze at themselves from a heterosexual, male perspective. Adding to that, Gill (2009) argues that not only does this impose self-objectification on women, but it also instructs women to adopt this because it is “pleasurable and self-chosen” (p. 107). A clear representation of this shift in the power of the male gaze from externally imposed to internalised by women is represented in Love Island once the female contenders move into the women’s dressing room. Being closed off from the rest of the villa, especially from the male contenders, implies that the male gaze imposes its regulatory function from within the room. The presence of the mirrors shows how women are made to internalise the regulatory gaze. As mentioned in the previous chapter, giving the women a private dressing room suggests the imposition of heteronormative standards about female objectification on the contenders. The internalised gaze confirms this discourse as the women check themselves out in the mirror when dressing while the other women comment on each other’s looks: “He is gonna love that so I think you should definitely wear that tonight” (episode 5.01 45:08). The women in Love Island thus choose how to look based on what the male gaze would like to see, exposing the internalised, objectifying male gaze. On the other hand, Love Island also shows resistance to the male gaze. Kevin Goddard (2000) explains that submission to the gaze doesn’t mean one loses power: “the gaze is never unidirectional. The ‘subject,’ who submits himself/herself to the gaze of the other, is able to use that submission as a form of power in itself” (p. 25). This idea is exemplified in the way that female contender Maura resists heteronormative discourses and the gendered dichotomies of the heterosexual script in Love Island. Maura accepts the male gaze in that she – to some extent – objectifies herself: “I just know that I need to look fucking hot. I need to be sexy. And give him some sex eyes, you know” (episode 5.14, 35:17). At the same time, Maura is known in the villa for her sexual comments in everyday conversation. Being a woman who is open about her sexuality, she challenges

29 heteronormativity in terms of the sexual double standard. Maura thus submits herself to the male gaze and translates this submission into power to resist the sexual double standard. At one point in the Beach Hut, Maura asks herself if she should stop talking about sex because she thinks the male contenders might not like her because of that (episode 5.15). By pointing this out, she acknowledges that she is not acting in conformity with the norm. This resonates with the point Seabrook et al. (2016) make about the gendered dichotomy of the powerful man and the powerless women. They argue that despite the fact that the heterosexual script puts women in a position of limited power, they are expected to follow it anyway. Seabrook et al. (2016) explain that “[e]ven women who do not endorse the script are typically aware that it exists and that their behavior will be judged against it” (p. 339). So, endorsing the script or not, women are aware of the standards imposed on them. Maura is aware she is not conforming to the heterosexual script by talking about sex. However, this does not stop her from standing up for herself in an encounter with her love interest Tom, resisting the gendered dichotomy that men put women in a position of limited power. Prior to the encounter, Tom and Maura are given access to the Hideaway, but, before going to the private bedroom, Maura overhears Tom saying to the other male contenders: “It’ll be interesting to see if she’s all mouth or not” (episode 5.21, 43:41), referring to Maura and her allusions to sex in everyday conversation, but also suggesting that Maura should put her mouth to the ‘right’ use during their night in the Hideaway. Instead of using her mouth to talk about sex, Tom implies that Maura should use her mouth to perform sex by giving him fellatio. His comment supports both sides of the heterosexual script in relation to gender. Being a man, he is open about his sexual desire and prefers sexual fulfilment over emotional intimacy. At the same time, he questions whether Maura, being a woman, sets appropriate sexual limits on herself while objectifying her by reducing her to a body part only to have sex with. Maura angrily confronts Tom as she refuses to let a man talk about her with disrespect, calling it a “dickhead comment” (episode 5.21, 44:14); and ultimately, refuses to go to the Hideaway with him. This encounter shows that Tom assumes he is allowed to make such comments because Maura talks about sex a lot. However, Maura uses that assumption to confront Tom for putting her in the position of the powerless woman who is both objectified and regulated by men, a confrontation which allows her to fight the sexual double standard: “We’re in 2019, why is it such a big deal when a girl talks about sex?” (episode 5.22, 8:24). By talking openly about sex and confronting

30 behaviour that upholds the sexual double standard, Maura actively resits heteronormative discourses. What is striking is that in order to resist the heteronormative discourse of the sexual double standard, Maura takes on the male aspect of the heterosexual script by being explicit about her sexual desires. This means that, in order to resist, Maura has to stay within the heterosexual script. Contenders are therefore able to use their agency to resist the imposed heteronormative discourses; however, their agency is limited to the boundaries of the heterosexual script. With reference to Wong (2001), the contenders in Love Island are able to negotiate their boundaries while inhabiting social categories, but they are not able to leave the confines of the social script when doing so. The Love Island contenders can only form categories with heteronormative discourses. Male contender Anton also challenges the heterosexual script as the other contenders consider him to be overly vain. Associating himself with feminine beauty routines, he confesses he plucks his own eyebrows as well as admitting that his mother shaves his butt. Challenging the heterosexual script by engaging in practices that may be perceived as gay, Anton remains within the script as he adopts the female aspect of focussing on his physical appearance. Resistance against heteronormativity in Love Island is therefore focused on equalizing the gendered dichotomies of the heterosexual script, rather than breaking it as a whole and following discourses that exist outside the heterosexual script. Considering the contenders in Love Island as autonomous agents that are able to negotiate their boundaries within the game rules of the show supports the idea of the contenders challenging heteronormative behaviour. The Love Island setting encourages the internalisation of the gaze, yet the contenders also use their submission to the gaze as a power to challenge heteronormativity as they manage to negotiate their boundaries. These boundaries must however be understood within the rules of the game as well as the boundaries of the heterosexual script.

31 3. The gaze of the viewer

The contenders are not the only ones resisting heteronormative discourses in Love Island. When discussing reality TV in the contemporary media landscape, the aspect of viewer participation must not be forgotten. Love Island implements a broad multiplatform strategy, including an official app, YouTube channel, podcast and social media platforms Facebook, Instagram and Twitter to encourage viewer participation. Twitter in particular appears to be the viewers’ favourite second-screen platform to use. Sharing Love Island-related memes and giving live commentary during the episodes, Love Island viewers have generated more than eight million tweets during the 2019 series (Royle, 2019). Twitter therefore offers a significant platform to analyse how the gaze of the viewer operates within the structures of Love Island. British press and global online gaming company BetVictor collect data on Twitter to analyse what the viewers think about the contenders and the events happening in the Love Island villa. Love Island viewers also use Twitter as a platform to express criticism about the show that relates to heteronormative discourses. For example, Love Island has been criticized for presenting and normalising toxic masculinity, a term used to describe the narrow and stereotypical norms of masculinity that shape male behaviour expected to be aggressive, tough and dominant. This chapter uses the accusations of toxic masculinity in Love Island as a case study to analyse the impact the gaze of the viewer has on the panoptic function of the reality TV gaze.

Viewers in the panoptic machine of Love Island In an era of digital capitalism, Mark Andrejevic (2002) explores the crucial role of surveillance in today’s online economy and shows how its proliferating logic is reflected in reality programming. He argues that the portrayal of surveillance in reality TV disciplines viewers to embrace surveillance as an instrument of subjectivity, which in turn trains them for their role as active consumers in an interactive economy. By doing so, Andrejevic (2002) extends the panoptical logic of reality shows to today’s online economy, which he defines as a “surveillance-based interactive economy” (p. 260). This interactive economy relies on consumer surveillance as a means for anticipating and customizing consumer demand but also for adding value to new products and creating new ones (Andrejevic, 2002). Andrejevic

32 (2002) exemplifies this with Nike’s website that allows consumers to ‘design’ their own footwear. Surveillance turns consumers in the interactive economy from passive recipients of mass-produced goods to active participants that have the freedom of producing their own custom products. Disguised as a means of meeting the customers’ needs, online consumer participation is encouraged, allowing companies to observe their consumers. Thus, Andrejevic (2002) uses reality TV to explore the attitude towards surveillance practices online. Focussing on audiences of reality TV, Su Holmes (2004) explains that the concept of interactivity has become more important in the realm of television, especially reality programming. She argues that contemporary reality TV audiences are expected to be active participants that shape television by co-producing narratives and eventually outcomes. Such audience participation is encouraged to create interactive viewers and develop a belief that the viewer is empowered (Holmes, 2004). Holmes (2004) further explains that interactivity has become a highly visible aspect of reality programming as it is very alive to ‘overflow’, referring to Will Brooker’s (2001) concept of an intertextual network that stimulates audience participation on multiple media platforms. Overflow presents an interactive structure where fans and producers come together to engage with and market a text on various media platforms (Brooker, 2001). This structured interactivity brings us back to Andrejevic’s argument about the interactive economy: television, reality tv in particular, has adapted the same participatory practices for its audience, as Nike did for their online consumers. Andrejevic (2008) continues his argument about the interactive economy by moving into “an era in which viewers can talk back to the TV—and actually be heard” (p. 24). He explores the way in which interactive audience practices enhance value for television producers in two ways: “by allowing fans to take on part of the work of making a show interesting for themselves and by providing instant (if not necessarily statistically representative) feedback to producers” (p. 24). Interactive strategies within the realm of TV allow creative activity and exploitation to coexist. Andrejevic (2008) explains that such interactive strategies demand a new type of viewer: one that both watches and interacts. The viewer is invited by the production of the TV show to not only watch, but participate in the production process as well. Viewers are thus enabled to talk back to the producers as TV shows use surveillance to watch their viewers and the information they provide. The

33 promise of interactivity therefore invites the viewer to perform the “work of being watched” (Andrejevic, 2008). Andrejevic (2008) emphasizes this aspect of interactivity by describing the behaviour of the interactive viewer as “the way in which they watch—or, more precisely, the way in which they are seen to watch” (p. 36) So, in the realm of reality programming not only the participants of the shows are being watched, but also the viewers that engage with the show through interactive practices are subject to the reality TV gaze. Allowing viewers to take on an active role presents a shift in the power relation between TV producers and viewers (L’Hoiry 2019). According to Holmes (2004), interactivity in reality TV has helped to restructure the “interface between industry, text and audience” (p. 214). By introducing interactivity to reality formats, producers deliberately made the choice to empower the audience to shape content and outcomes of the show, changing the power dynamics between TV content and its viewers. Yngvar Kjus (2009) refers to this as “a shift from the asymmetrical communication of broadcasting to the symmetry of telephony and the Internet” (p. 295), describing interactivity as a way to communicate with the show’s producers in an equal manner. However, Kjus (2009) argues that reality shows present themselves as transparent regarding their audience participation practices, while in reality the traditional asymmetry of the industry is maintained because, in the end, the producers are in control when it comes to the content that is actually broadcasted. In other words, Kjus (2009) questions the actual empowerment of the audience. He argues that rather than empowering participants, reality programming uses interactive practices to create social bonds with the audience as they allow the viewer to ‘talk back’ to the show. The redefinition of the (power) relationship between viewers and (reality) TV producers is also visible in the way Love Island stimulates audience participation. In terms of interactivity and co-producing content, the Love Island viewer is invited to participate in the production process by voting on different topics, including voting for favourite couples or contenders to prevent them from being removed from the show and voting for which contenders should go on dates. In the end, the viewers are tasked with voting for the winning couple from the four couples who made it to the final. Viewers are able to cast their votes with the official Love Island app. The use of apps as an exclusive medium for audiences to co-produce content is a popular means for audience participation as mobile apps have the capacity to collect user’s data, providing interesting insights to users’ preferences and habits

34 (L’Hoiry 2019). Apps therefore function as a constructive tool for surveillance while enabling audience participation. The Love Island audience can watch the show on TV and co-produce content through the official app, but the role of social media remains most significant for audience engagement. The producers of Love Island explain that generating audience engagement through social media is central to their strategy. Love Island has developed a multiplatform strategy in which every area supports the other, creating a feedback loop where social media platforms feed back into the show (Lips 2019). For example, ‘first look’ previews on social media platforms draw the audience to the live broadcast, increasing the excitement among the viewers for that night’s episode. Love Island’s executive producer Tom Gould points out that “the photos cast members took on their Love Island-provided phones were shared on Instagram and became the show’s most popular social content” (Lips 2017). Love Island does not only provide the viewers with content, viewers also provide content on Twitter which the show uses as a form of co-production. In order to find content, Love Island encourages its viewers to use the hashtag #LoveIsland whenever they tweet about the show. The show then uses these tweets for producing content as well as feedback. A famous example where Love Island viewers are able to co-produce content through social media is the ‘Online Buzz’ challenge. In this challenge, the contenders have to fill in blanks in tweets about themselves that are posted by the Love Island viewers (episode 5.24). During the challenge, the tweets are read out loud, including the name of the person who posted the tweet, contributing to the idea that Love Island watches its viewers individually. While the contenders are completely cut off from the outside world, the ‘Online Buzz’ challenge gives the contenders a different perspective – that of the viewers at home – on the events happening in the villa. This causes the contenders to admit they are scared to know what the public thinks of them, saying they “feel sick” (episode 5.24, 11:05). This emotion is not unjustified as the challenge is known to use mean tweets or tweets that are likely to cause drama. For example, one tweet accused contender Molly-Mae of not being genuine with her partner Tommy as she was only interested in winning the £50,000 prize (episode 5.24). The discussion about Molly-Mae’s genuineness was an ongoing debate among the Love Island viewers throughout the series with viewers branding her ‘Money- Mae’ on social media (Gallagher, 2019). The fact that the viewers talked about her this way, however, came as a shock to Molly-Mae as well as her partner Tommy. This resulted in a fair

35 share of drama as well as reminding the contenders that they are being watched and people form opinions about them. The viewers responded to the challenge on Twitter with one viewer tweeting about the accusations against Molly, “Why did the producers go so hard at Molly-Mae in that tweet challenge, bringing up old and irrelevant tweets?? #LoveIsland” (@HozzieB_, 2019). Again, viewers turn to Twitter to talk back to the producers about what they see on TV. The ‘Online Buzz’ challenge brings the discourses from the web into the Love Island villa and onto the TV screen, creating a textual convergence or overflow. It shows that the viewers’ opinions are being seen, which in turn stimulates the viewers to engage on social media as it provides an opportunity to talk back to the show.

Online communities Xavier L’Hoiry (2019) argues that engagement on social media occurs in two contexts. The first is in the regulated form, where the nature of participation is limited to the dictation of the show. These include the aforementioned intertextual practices initiated by the Love Island producers on their official social media platforms. As Holmes (2004) has indicated, producers use these strategies to encourage viewer engagement and create social bonds with their viewers. The second context refers to viewer engagement that is not dictated by the show’s producers. According to L’Hoiry (2019), audience participation strategies do not only create social bonds between the show and their viewers, but also enable viewers to create social bonds with each other. Viewers move beyond the regulated context and engage heavily with each other across multiple social media platforms, such as Twitter and Instagram. L’Hoiry (2019) explains that this is “an inevitable consequence of encouraging audience interactivity” (p. 5). Directing audiences to social media platforms automatically opens up the possibility for them to come together on those platforms, enabling them to engage with each other and ultimately form online communities. The Love Island viewers turn their gaze not only towards the show, but to each other as well, allowing the gaze of the viewer to function as a bonding mechanism. L’Hoiry (2019) explains that “as well as interacting with one another using their own personal accounts, fans of the show have created bespoke, fan-led Love Island social media accounts which have enjoyed significant popularity” (p. 5). Examples of such Love Island social media accounts on Twitter are @LoveIslandUK with a following of 113,000 users and @LoveIslandReact with 15,800 followers. Throughout the eight weeks of Love Island’s

36 broadcast, these accounts provide commentary on the events happening in the Love Island villa, including memes and references to ongoing jokes on social media as well as asking the viewers on Twitter for their opinion. For example, @LoveIslandUK tweeted: “okay twitter lets settle this once and for all, who should amber couple up with? retweet for greg like for michael #LoveIsland” (@LoveIslandUK, 2019), adding two photos of the male contenders in question. This kind of tweets receive thousands of responses and spark discussion in the reply section. So, not only are the Love Island viewers monitoring what happens in the show, social media allow them to assemble online and monitor each other as well. Social media create opportunities for individuals to watch each other and thus participate in the surveillance economy via, for example, lateral surveillance. Andrejevic (2004) describes lateral surveillance as ‘peer-to-peer monitoring’. Earlier, surveillance was practiced by institutions or organization, whereas now the injunction not to trust social institutions in combination with technological developments has caused individuals to adopt surveillance practices to track one another (Andrejevic, 2004). Social media platforms are a perfect way to track other people. Especially Twitter offers an easy way to watch others as it allows like-minded viewers to connect through the use of hashtags. Hashtags make it easier for viewers to filter tweets about Love Island-related topics, providing a gateway to read, like, retweet and reply to the tweets of other users. Lateral surveillance becomes the basis for the formation and deformation of online movements, framing the gaze of the viewers as a bonding mechanism. Surveillance practices on social media enable viewers to come together online around specific instances such as controversial moments or contenders in the show. Both because viewers watch other and because they know they are being watched, viewers assemble online. For example, Love Island viewers use the phrase ‘Black Twitter’ in their tweets to assemble online during the show. Black Twitter is a general phrase used for the assemblage of black voices on Twitter that unite as a watchdog for problematic behaviour. They form and deform to create a conversational groundswell whenever black identity is being damaged (Clark, 2014). Black Love Island viewers come together on Twitter to encourage each other to vote ‘favourite’ for black contenders and to vote ‘least favourite’ for contenders who had hurt black contenders. Receiving 2300 likes, one viewer tweeted: “Please nobody vote Danny and arabella , black twitter this is our chance pick anybody but them #LoveIsland” (@1OGH_, 2019). Black Twitter wanted to vote Danny and Arabella off

37 the show because Danny chose Arabella over black contender Yewande during a previous recoupling, causing Black Twitter to have vengeful feelings towards the couple. In turn, the online assemblages also become a part of the viewing experience of the show, as one viewer tweeted: “Black twitter really made this Love Island one to remember, what a time to be alive #LoveIsland” (@nicss_lm, 2019). L’Hoiry (2019) links the connective powers of social media to Pierre Lévy’s (1997) notion of ‘collective intelligence’ to explain the savvy nature of the Love Island viewers. Lévy (1997) proposed that, as more people interact with each other, they start sharing and developing new forms of knowledge, causing communities to become more intelligent collectively. For example, in response to the ‘Online Buzz’ challenge, viewers turned to social media to express their disappointment about the challenge, accusing the producers of using fake tweets. Most viewers tweeted about the fact that the tweets used in the show were not “savage” enough (Strang, 2019), causing the Love Island viewers to collectively check the authenticity of the tweets used in the challenge. The Love Island viewers took on an active gaze to search for evidence and collectively find out that the show had used fake tweets. In turn, their accusations on Twitter were seen by the show’s producers, eventually causing the challenge to be cancelled in the next Love Island series that was aired during the winter of 2019/2020 (Devlin, 2020). This is ironic because the voice over in the 2019 series joked it would return in the next series: “[the contenders] are still bangin’ on about the Twitter- challenge, which means one thing: it’ll be back next year” (episode 5.24, 28:32). This shows how stimulating audience participation can also backfire on the show and start conversation outside the regulated context of the show. This results from viewers using their active gaze collectively to watch, share knowledge and eventually criticise the show.

Online resistance against heteronormativity The savviness of online communities contributes to the surveillance economy online. L’Hoiry (2019) explores savviness and modes of surveillance among the Love Island viewers, arguing that the show’s social media strategies enable the viewers to group together online and form communities of resistance against the show’s producers with regard to authenticity and realism. Referring to the concept of sousveillance, he suggests that the online Love Island communities enable viewers not only to join forces in terms of intellect, but also to

38 exercise greater agency. This in turn opens up the possibility for the formation of ‘communities of resistance’ (L’Hoiry, 2019). The concept of sousveillance was first introduced by Mann et al. (2003), describing bottom-up surveillance practices that derive from the development and accessibility of new computing devices. Referring to a type of ‘inverse surveillance’, Mann et al. (2003) explain sousveillance as a response to surveillant power asymmetries. L’Hoiry (2019) addresses its significance in relation to the panopticon:

This ability to hold more powerful actors to account is the central raison d’être of sousveillance and represents an attempt by less powerful individuals to exercise greater agency and redress power imbalances at the heart of the panoptic asymmetries which characterize everyday life. (L’Hoiry, 2019, p. 7)

In contexts of panoptical power structures, like in Love Island, sousveillance enables less powerful individuals to monitor the supervising gaze that is usually translated by powerful institutions. As argued above, not only the Love Island contenders but also its viewers are subject to panoptical power structures. However, the availability and accessibility of media devices and social media enables viewers to exercise modes of surveillance and take matters into their own hands. The cancellation of the ‘Online Buzz’ challenge due to accusations of the Love Island viewers is an example of how viewers exercise sousveillance and form communities of resistance. Staying within the scope of this research, the Love Island viewers have also voiced resistance against heteronormative discourses in the villa. Several encounters in the show have caused viewers to respond on Twitter and form communities of resistance against presentations of toxic masculinity (Petter, 2019b). In their research on the portrayal of sexuality in Love Island, Standing and Porter (2020) also refer to the criticism the show has received about portraying and normalising toxic masculinity. Pointing out toxic masculinity towards women, they refer to numerous moments in the show, including the beforementioned confrontation between Maura and Tom ahead of their night in the Hideaway:

Toxic masculinity was also evident in several male contestants’ behaviour towards the female contestants seen as ‘difficult’... The sexual double standard was highlighted by the male contestants’ reactions towards Maura’s overt sexual

39 confidence and agency, which challenged normative views of female sexuality, which position women as passive, rather than sexual agents… The other male contestants colluded in this as ‘banter’ exposing the casual sexism in the villa. (Standing & Foster, 2020, n.p.)

Toxic masculinity emerges when men are confronted with female contenders that challenge heteronormativity. Resonating with the heterosexual script, Standing and Foster (2020) explain that the heteronormative woman is positioned as passive rather than a sexual agent. Maura’s behaviour challenges this norm, causing the male contenders to show presentations of toxic masculinity towards her. In other words, presentations of toxic masculinity in Love Island can be considered a reaction to keep heteronormative discourses in place. Toxic masculinity in Love Island is normalised as the male contenders consider their sexist comments as ‘banter’, suggesting it should not be taken seriously. This therefore indicates the heteronormativity of toxic masculinity in the show. Standing and Foster (2020) continue their argument by arguing that the Love Island viewers also reinforce heteronormative discourses on social media. Instead of framing them as communities of resistance, they argue that viewers’ responses on social media also endorse heteronormative discourses, like the sexual double standard. For example, Love Island viewers portrayed Maura as sex-obsessed on social media and accused her of inappropriate behaviour (Irishmirror.ie, 2019). Such tweets endorse the heterosexual script as they refuse to recognize Maura as a sexual agent and instead blame her for not keeping her sexual comments to herself, like a heteronormative female is expected to. So, according to Standing and Foster (2020), social media platforms also keep heteronormative discourses alive. However, viewers on Twitter have criticised toxic masculinity in Love Island, showing resistance against this heteronormativity. Responding to the Maura and Tom feud, viewers tweeted about indicating signs of toxic masculinity in the show and accusing the male contenders of slut-shaming (Petter, 2019a; Barr, 2019). Toxic masculinity is understood to contribute to gender inequalities where women are disadvantaged by privileged men (Flood, 2018). Slut-shaming is considered an expression of toxic masculinity as it disadvantages women who express themselves sexually by calling them sluts (Tanenbaum, 2015). The Love Island viewers complained about how the male contenders treated Maura, referring to their

40 vocal assumptions that Maura and Tom were going to have sex in the Hideaway because Maura is open about her sexuality. In particular, the behaviour of the male contenders after Tom got rejected was alarming to some Love Island viewers responding on Twitter. After being confronted by Maura, Tom discusses the situation with his fellow male contenders in the bedroom. They laugh at the situation and continue to mock and belittle Maura: “It’s a double standard, isn’t it? She can’t give it all big and then not be able to take a bit of banter like that” (episode 5.22, 9:17). As a response, one viewer tweeted: “Jesus the fucking toxic masculinity in that bedroom right now #LoveIsland” (@Alex_Taylor0, 2019), receiving more than 2,200 likes. The amount of likes this tweet accumulated shows that many viewers agree, forming a community of resistance. While pointing out the sexual double standard that denies females as sexual agents, one viewer tweeted,

Not a fan of people joking&laughing at the Maura situation, it’s literally the most degrading and embarrassing thing that can happen to a woman in front of her friends - to be slut shamed by a MAN for talking about sex the exact same way her male counterparts would #LoveIsland. (@ciaoitscait, 2019)

The viewers’ tweets show that the gaze of the viewer is an active one in that viewers use it to analyse the behaviour of the contenders and identify discourses in the villa. Nevertheless, the toxic masculinity among the male contenders was also pointed out by Maura herself, indicating that the discussion on toxic masculinity in the villa is carried over to Twitter, undermining the significance of the gaze of the viewer. However, Maura could not hear the men mocking and belittling her in the bedroom. The viewer therefore has a special access to the gaze, which is already mentioned in Chapter One. Because the contenders wear microphones that are connected to the cameras, the viewer that watches through the gaze of the camera, is able to hear more than the contenders in the villa. For example, when the contenders are talking about each other behind their backs, like in the example of Tom talking about Maura to the other men in the bedroom. Yet, the gaze of the viewers also noticed another example of toxic masculinity in Love Island that was not addressed by the contenders in the villa. In addition to the viewers’ accusations of slut-shaming, Love Island viewers have accused male contenders of gaslighting (Verdier, 2019; Chappet, 2019). Gaslighting is a type of emotional abuse where a

41 partner in a relationship questions the other’s memory of events and turns things around to blame the other. Love Island has suffered from accusations of gaslighting in the previous season, causing Women’s Aid to make statements about this abusive behaviour happening on the show (Marwood, 2018). Regarding the fifth season and receiving more than 4,300 likes, one viewer tweeted:

Real talk though, the way most the boys have treated the girls this series is disgraceful. The only good thing about it is hopefully girls around the nation are gonna be empowered to stand up for themselves and not take gaslighting shit. #LoveIsland. (@Mimsmia1, 2019)

Pointing out gaslighting behaviour of the male contenders while encouraging women to stand up against such behaviour shows resistance from the viewers about an issue that the contenders themselves are not able to see. Throughout the season, more male contenders were accused of gaslighting, feeding the resistance against it on Twitter even more. Viewers tweeted about several encounters involving four male contenders, accusing them of gaslighting behaviour against female contenders, including the Maura and Tom feud. Referring back to Standing and Foster (2020), this type of toxic masculinity was again shown towards female contenders who were seen as ‘difficult’ and translated into blaming the women when the men decided to recouple, break up or ‘crackin on’ with other women (Chappet, 2019). The first to be accused of gaslighting behaviour was Joe, whose love interest was Lucie:

So Lucie hanging out with a male friend isn’t “respecting the person she’s with” and “strange”. Fuck off Joe. He’s telling her who she can and can’t be friends with- his level of gaslighting is disgusting #loveisland. (@HollieAnneB, 2019)

The Love Island viewers took their agency and active gaze to the next level by filing complaints about Joe with British media watchdog Ofcom (Cassidy & Joseph, 2019). As a response to the amount of resistance online, Joe was put in a safehouse by the show’s producers after he was voted off the show in order to brief him about the backlash he

42 received online (Downham & Packer, 2019). Again, Women’s Aid made statements about gaslighting in Love Island and the role of the viewers by filing complains about it:

Controlling behaviour is never acceptable, and with Love Island viewers complaining to Ofcom in record numbers about Joe's possessive behaviour towards Lucie, more people are becoming aware of this and want to challenge it. (Marwood, 2019)

Surveillance here translates into communities of resistance as the Love Island viewers are able to see controversial behaviour in the show, assemble into a community of resistance and eventually act on it by filing complaints against the show. The difference between the resistance against gaslighting and slut-shaming is the fact that the theme of slut-shaming was mentioned by a contender herself in the broadcast, whereas the contenders were not aware of the gaslighting happening in the villa. The latter therefore shows how heteronormative discourses can be resisted by the Love Island viewers outside of the broadcast, establishing social media and its communities of resistance as important elements of reality programming.

43 Conclusion

In order to understand the function of surveillance in Love Island, this research started by describing the model of the panopticon to the gaze of reality TV. Through an analysis of the format and architectural structures of the show, the panoptical machine of Love Island was exposed as a regulatory framework that imposes heteronormative behaviour on its contenders. Mounted cameras allow an omnivoyeuristic gaze to watch the contenders in the villa setting while they participate in the show’s overall game logic of heterosexual coupling up, allowing heteronormative discourses to operate in a natural way. The mini-challenges, on the other hand, are filmed with cameramen on set, translating into a verifiable gaze that breaks the panopticon principles. The mini-challenges then provide a gamified representation of gendered stereotypes, but instead of undermining heteronormative discourses, the mini-challenges intensify gendered standards and end up upholding them. The aspect of cohabitation causes a second regulatory gaze to operate in the panoptical structures of Love Island that in turn imposes heteronormative discourses. Supported by the show’s format and architectural structures, Love Island encourages surveillance among the contenders as well, turning every move into a public act. Being able to comment on each other, the gaze of the contenders is turned into an active gaze that imposes heteronormativity in terms of their sexual behaviour and physical appearance as to keep up their status as eye candy. However, Love Island also allows the contenders to hide from the others, offering safe spaces that open up the possibility to resist the heterosexual script. Moving from the external gaze to internal regulation, the contenders in Love Island are considered autonomous agents that choose to mould themselves to or resist the heterosexual script. Using the mirror to explain the internalisation of the gaze in Love Island shows that the contenders engage in self-regulation in relation to their physical appearance as well as their behaviour. The contenders in Love Island are able to negotiate their boundaries to some extent. Yet, their agency must be understood within the rules of the game, the show and heteronormativity. Different sets of rules, including the show’s code of conduct and game rules, limit the contender’s agency in terms of rejection from the show. At the same time, the example of Casa Amor and the elimination ceremonies show that Love

44 Island also assumes the contender’s agency in its game logic. In terms of resistance, the contenders of Love Island are able to translate their submission to the gaze as a form of power to challenge heteronormativity. The contenders’ resistance against heteronormativity must however also be understood within the boundaries of the heterosexual script. Instead of breaking the script, contenders challenge the gendered dichotomies of the script and thus stay within the script. The panoptical structures of Love Island reach beyond the broadcast as the viewer at home is also being watched by the show’s producers. Love Island invites its viewers to engage in the work of being watched via interactive practices online, encouraging audience engagement on its official app and social media platforms. Consequently, viewers do not only engage with the show but with each other as well, allowing audience engagement to exist within and outside the regulated context of the show. The show’s producers integrate their viewers feedback online into the show, generating overflow and creating social bonds with their audience within the context of the show. Yet, the gaze of the viewer constitutes an important function within reality TV when the viewers move outside the regulated context. Adopting modes of surveillance, viewers watch each other, causing them to assemble online and eventually form communities of resistance. The gaze of the viewer has special access as it is able to see more than the contenders. This, in combination with the gaze’s function as a bonding mechanism that creates collective intelligence and greater agency, surveillance allows the Love Island viewers to resist controversial heteronormativity in the show. Interactive practices online therefore shape Love Island in the literal sense of the word as they enable viewers to co-produce content and join forces to criticize the show. The Love Island viewer practices therefore show that within the realm of reality TV, viewers are able to establish themselves as powerful agents in the contemporary media landscape. By analysing different elements of surveillance in Love Island, this research provides an update on the traditional panopticon as applied to reality TV. Starting off with the idea that the reality TV gaze refers to the camera that represents the implicit gaze of the viewer, Love Island demonstrates that the reality TV gaze is a more complicated concept. The aspect of cohabitation in the show allows us to consider a second external gaze to operate in reality TV: the gaze of the other contenders. Furthermore, relating the gaze to the representation of heteronormative discourses, illuminates the internalisation of the gaze in reality TV. Using the metaphor of the mirror allows us to illustrate the abstract idea of the internalised gaze,

45 while exposing its relation to patriarchal power. In the contemporary media landscape, it is impossible to ignore the significance of surveillance practices online. The viewer not only has special access to the gaze through the use of microphones, the ability to assemble online and form communities of resistance establishes the gaze of the viewer as a significant element of reality TV. The reality TV gaze has transformed from a passive, omnivoyeuristic eye that only watches to an active gaze that is able to resist. Love Island shows that in reality TV, everybody watches each other, giving everyone the opportunity to use their submission to the gaze as a form of power to resist heteronormativity.

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