Exploring the moral principles of true crime.
I push open the double doors and recoil at the sound of its unoiled hinges. I’ve escaped my first arduous hospitality shift. The mingling of adrenaline I’ve been running on for the past nine hours, and the chorus of angry chefs cursing in various languages still lingers in my body. How do I unwind after such a torturous ordeal? Take a relaxing walk? Meditate? Fling down the yoga mat for some sun salutations? No, quite the opposite. I sit down to watch an in-depth, visceral, two-part account of a string of murders on YouTube – obviously (and inappropriately) accompanied by the narrator doing a full-glam makeup look.
Although this may seem like a bizarre form of entertainment, true crime is incredibly popular viewing. One survey found true crime is enjoyed by half of the American population and is consumed by approx 35% of the population at least once a week. This obsession is not new. True crime predates the era of TV dinners. From the murder ballads in the Middle Ages to the broadsheets of the 19th century, it isn’t too bold to suggest that humans have long possessed a morbidly curious streak. But why are so many of us obsessed with such a macabre and anxiety-inducing genre? And due to its non-fictive nature, do consumers need to perhaps reevaluate the ethics of this obsession?
The escapism element associated with TV entertainment plays a huge part in the attraction to true crime. One article by The University of North Carolina states that we thrive off the whodunnit and problem-solving aspect, with true crime appealing to an innate “sense of justice.” Alternatively, journalist Emma Richards, looking from a psychological perspective, believes we are infatuated with true crime for our own perceived protection but also because it “allows us to feel compassion for others.”
The consumer demographics of true crime reveal the genre to be overwhelmingly viewed by women. As women are the primary victims in most broadcasted cases, one main theory for the broad female viewership, as suggested by one University of Illinois study, is “identification.” The centrality of violence against women can result in female audiences seeing these types of shows as informative, harbouring crucial knowledge for safety purposes. Ideas of self-preservation are extremely pertinent.
Forever embroiled in controversy, the true crime genre is certainly not an unanimously loved form of entertainment. Even the word entertainment can feel disconcerting, as at the end of the day, true crime revolves around the suffering of real people that has been sensationalised for casual consumption. The main goal of intertwining atrocities with entertainment is to make crime clickable, and more notably profitable. Yet, as we all know, when profit gets involved, generally, there is a positive correlation with morals being flung out the window. This is evident all over the internet. It only takes a quick YouTube search to find creator upon creator discussing murders over a ‘get ready with me’ or mukbang. Eye-catching thumbnails, and juicy, salacious titles commodifying the brutal end to human life.
Names, locations, and other personal details of the victims and their families tend to be carelessly handled. Once more, they are re-victimised, this time at the hand of the desensitized and prying netizen. Baseless theories are perpetuated online with no regard for the affected and sometimes a fanbase even pops up for the perpetrators. As someone aware of Tumblr as an adolescent, I can certainly confirm the latter. I regret to inform you that we have existed in the same timeline as the trend which involved photoshopping flower crowns onto Ted Bundy’s head. A testament to the callousness of collective desensitisation.
The questionable morality spawning from true crime is not limited to individual YouTubers. Where there is an opportunity for income to be generated, multi-media corporations are always right around the corner. Netflix has proved itself beyond dubious in its approach to the category. Monster – Jeffrey Dahmer surpassed one billion views within 60 days. Yet, this shocking feat came at a price for those affected. Not one member of the victims’ families was informed, let alone consented to the production. One victim’s family member, Eric Perry, took to Twitter to express his disgust at the lack of respect he was awarded, describing the show as “re-traumatising over and over again, for what?” This isn’t an anomaly. There is a pattern of a lack of consent afforded to those affected by the showcased crimes.
Rachel Frank, Australian researcher and true crime writer, asserts “the true crime genre ensures there will always be a market for murder,” and no matter the contention, this has proven true. This begs the question: can this genre be redeemed? Some claim true crime can reframe situations from the perspective of a victim and can give a voice to those who are subject to criminal injustices. The dramatisation of the murder of journalist Kim Wall, The Investigation, refused to reveal the identity of her killer or glamorise his crime as a ‘perfect murder’. This illustrates a respectful approach to true crime, far removed from the hyperbolised and insensitive dramatisations found on YouTube.
I’m not saying you can’t watch true crime but the next time you collapse after hours of being berated by customers take a minute to consider how compassionate the content is, because to someone it is far from entertainment.
