Turkey’s high-stakes reality TV: Choosing spouses for life

ISTANBUL, Turkey – Pull into a gas station along any one of the numerous dusty highways criss-crossing Anatolia and one could be forgiven for thinking that it resembles the post-apocalyptic scenes imagined by many a fiction writer. Eerily empty, it is quiet, with the odd neon signs flickering at irregular intervals.

It is a very unusual scene for a Turkish gas station where attendants usually seem to outnumber the pumps. And an even more unusual scene awaits upon entering the gas station’s office. A group of Anatolian men - often stereotyped as macho, gruff and patriarchal sorts – have their eyes glued to the television set and are deeply immersed in the events unfolding on daytime television.

In Turkey too, reality TV has long replaced the old daytime soap operas of the past, and television stations have their fair share of franchised and imitation reality programming that is ubiquitous on screens the world over.

But there is one particular format that for years now has had people all over Turkey enthralled by onscreen action: reality marriage programmes. Shows with titles such as Hand In Marriage, Come If You Want To Marry, This Is Your Destiny, and Whatever Your Fortune May Be are challenging conventional ideas of what television should look like. 

Each show lasts three to four hours and often provides riveting drama. Male and female, young and old, anyone seeking a spouse can take to live television. The show fluctuates between participants pouring their hearts out one minute, and then engaging in put downs the next; and in general, a lot of personal emotion is revealed.

If that were not enough, the presenters of such programmes often have the tendency to get caught up in the emotion and are prone to spontaneously burst into song and dance, or start weeping inconsolably on air.

Such dramatic swings to various extremes strike a chord with the populace who have become accustomed to a similar situation in the political life of their country.

Another reason behind the success of such programming in such a traditionally conservative society is the changing cultural reality. As the country continues to urbanise, families are becoming more nuclear. Unlike farther east, there is no real Turkish tradition of generations of families living together in the same house. Nevertheless, families often lived alongside one another in villages or in the same apartment block in smaller towns. But as newer generations increasingly set off for major urban centres in search of jobs, adventure and fortune, this system - which provided for a natural solution to issues such as child day care and care for the elderly -  is gradually fading into obscurity. 

There is an increasing premium on time and space, meaning traditional practices such as entire families setting out to choose a spouse for a family member are becoming rarer. The proportion of elderly people on such programmes is also, perhaps, surprisingly quite high.

No more loneliness

With the existing system of the younger generation caring for their elders being slowly eroded and the foreignness of the concept of elderly care homes, older people too are on the lookout for companionship and a pillar of support.

The Uyar family is a case in point. Fatma and Mujdat Uyar both had long-lasting first marriages. After losing their spouses, both also had short-lived acrimonious second marriages arranged through traditional channels. It was the search for companionship in old age that drew both of them to marriage programmes on TV.

Fatma, 63, says she had made it clear to friends and family that she would rather die alone than appear on such television programmes, or even consider marrying someone who has chosen to be on one of those shows. She says she later changed her mind after watching a few episodes, deciding that the people appearing on the shows were not really crass.

“I first saw Mujdat on screen and he was talking a lot of sense. I immediately made a decision and called the programme and told them that I was interested in meeting him,” Fatma tells Middle East Eye. “They arranged for me to meet him at the studio. We got along and that was the start of a courtship process both on and off screen that resulted in us getting engaged on 18 December 2014 and getting married on 13 February 2015.”

Mujdat, 72, a retired handicrafts artisan, says although he has two grown children in their mid-40s and is well cared for, a kind of loneliness that only a spouse could fill existed in his life.

“Nothing can match the companionship of a spouse. Yes, I have kids, family and friends, but it is different,” he tells MEE. “My first wife died in 2006. My second marriage was a big mistake and short-lived. But I still couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.”

A threat to social mores?

The immense popularity of such marriage programmes has meant similar shows on rival TV stations have been quick to spring up. Accusations that these shows now stage events, provoke participants into making controversial moves and remarks, and generally place people in degrading situations are common. Higher ratings have also increased proportionally to their proliferation and demand.

The Uyar couple opted to carry out their onscreen courtship on Flash TV, a privately-owned broadcaster which was the first to introduce such marriage shows ten years ago.

Gozde Kurt, the producer for the last eight years of the marriage show Dest-i Izdivac (Hand in Marriage) on Flash TV, says rival broadcasters are known to adopt underhand methods, but their programme does not need to because it was the first and has a loyal and devoted following.

“We only bring people on who really want to marry on the show. The natural drama and excitement is enough. We don’t need to fabricate situations to draw in viewers,” Kurt told MEE. “Around 155 couples have married on air and many more married off-air after meeting on our programme.”

Kurt says requests to appear on the show remain as strong as ever with at least 25-30 genuine daily callers looking to be on the show.

“We have had to dedicate our Friday show to only performing actual weddings,” says Kurt. “An official authorised to perform civic marriages is brought in and we hold ceremonies throughout the show every Friday.”

For a host of reasons, these programmes tend to also draw ire from diverse segments of society, ranging from religious officials to gender rights campaigners.

Some claim such shows undermine the institution of marriage, others say it objectifies people - particularly women - and yet others claim it simply provides a platform for people seeking their proverbial 15 minutes of fame one way or another.

‘Nobody’s business but ours’

“We just produce good television and help bring people who want to marry together,” says Kurt. “All these other claims are simply outlandish.”

Mujdat says his children and all of his other relatives backed him in his efforts to find a spouse via television.

“I am an extrovert and loved appearing on TV. My family know how happy it made me and were very happy for me when I decided to appear on TV in my quest to find a spouse,” he says. “Anyway everything about my second marriage was done the traditional way and was a total disaster. So it is ridiculous to complain about these marriage shows.”

Fatma has also had the full backing of family and friends, but most of all says she has found happiness and nobody has the right to judge on her behalf.

“We are really really happy. Who cares how we got married,” she says.

She also has little time for those who say such programmes are used as screens to actually market people as products.

“I have always been a housewife and see nothing there to be ashamed of. We married because we liked each other and not because we needed someone to take care of our needs. That comes naturally.”

As long as such unique marriage programmes keep producing happily married couples and as long as these shows maintain a strong following, one might have to remember to pop into a gas station’s office and request assistance while seeking to fill up in Anatolia.