Strictly scandal: how gaps and confusion in duty of care plague the television industry

Many participants who are offered support do not take it up.

The BBC is conducting an internal investigation after multiple allegations that participants on the broadcaster’s megahit dance competition, Strictly Come Dancing, have been bullied and abused during the rehearsal process.

The Strictly saga is the latest in a succession of duty-of-care scandals in television. In 2019, the suicides of two former Love Island contestants and a guest on The Jeremy Kyle Show led to a parliamentary inquiry and changes to the broadcasting code. The code now requires broadcasters to take “due care” of vulnerable people.

Since then, a number of former X Factor stars have claimed they were mistreated and exploited. And leaked audio recordings revealed misogynistic comments made backstage about contributors on Britain’s Got Talent.

The industry has responded with a huge investment in duty of care. Media psychologists are now routinely used to perform screening tests, risk assessments and provide contributor aftercare – usually in the form of counselling sessions once the show has been aired.

Former Strictly contestants have called for access to on-set mental health support. The BBC, for its part, has pledged to provide welfare officers and chaperones during rehearsals.

“The BBC and BBC Studios takes duty of care extremely seriously”, the network said. “Our processes on Strictly Come Dancing are updated every year, they are kept under constant review and last week we announced additional steps to further strengthen welfare and support on the show.”

Gaps in support

Since 2018, I’ve been speaking to people taking part in factual programmes like documentaries. Up until now, there has been virtually no research examining the risks and benefits for contributors. This means that the broadcast regulator Ofcom’s policy changes have been made in response to public criticism, rather than an evidenced understanding of participant experiences.

Bringing in welfare producers and psychologists has been the go-to solution to safeguard contributors’ wellbeing. But currently, there are no agreed standards of accreditation for who should perform these roles. Howie Fine, consultant clinical psychologist at Mindzone Media, a mental health consultancy that supplies psychologists for the industry, told me: “These jobs are not well understood, so it’s a bit hit and miss as to who is employed to do them.”

Psychological reports and screening tests are now commonplace, but there remains a widespread lack of mental health training among production teams. This leads to a lack of knowledge about how to interpret the findings of these reports and translate them into effective action. As Fiona Fletcher, founder of the Film and TV Welfare Association, told me: “If there is no dedicated (and trained) person taking ownership of welfare for the production, the reports will often sit in a folder.”

To comply with Ofcom’s regulations, contributors who are assessed as “vulnerable” must now be given access to psychological support. However, my forthcoming research has shown that many of the people who are offered these services do not take them up.

One of the problems participants perceive is a lack of independence or an inherent conflict of interest, when it is the production companies who are paying the psychologists’ wages. “I wouldn’t trust her,” one contributor told me about the therapist she was invited to speak to. “At the end of the day, she works for the BBC.”

There is also confusion about who should get access to these services. As I have found, there is no straightforward correlation between the amount of filming time contributors invest in a production, the amount of screen time they are given and whether they can access support.

Crucially, the media has prioritised duty of care for people who appear on camera. But I have found there is a link between the welfare of creative workers (like producers and directors) and the ordinary people who appear in programmes.

In the case of Strictly, professional dancers who find themselves under intense pressure to deliver results appear to have handed that pressure down to the participants they work with.

A similar dynamic plays out behind scenes in TV as well, creating an intrinsic connection between the wellbeing of those on and off camera.

Harmful working practices

My previous research suggests that these problems stem from harmful working practices that emerged due to deregulation of the television industry since the 1980s.

A substantial body of research has focused on the impact of deregulation on creative workers. These workers have had to navigate chronic job insecurity, working long hours for dwindling rewards in workplaces rife with nepotism and bullying.

My findings suggest that a deregulated working culture results in a lack of consistency of wellbeing for participants. Contributors feel they are passed from pillar to post, and that there is little accountability for the people who make decisions about contributor treatment and representation.

The bottom line is that it’s impossible to provide good duty of care for some people while excluding others. Adding psychological support can mitigate harm, but it does little to address the underlying problems of working in a dysfunctional environment.

The media industries have come a long way in the past five years, and deserve credit for the efforts they have made so far. The measures they have initiated must be evaluated and reassessed, otherwise their investment will not be worthwhile, and people on both sides of the camera will continue to suffer.

Emily Coleman receives funding from the Economic & Social Research Council. She is a member of the advisory board for ReCARE TV - a major three-year research project about duty of care in reality TV, funded by the Arts & Humanities Research Council.