Don't Mention the F-Word
by Clare Sainsbury

On Oct. 5, a group of American soldiers stationed in Afghanistan held a rally — to protest the cancellation of a science fiction TV show.

After the SciFi Channel unexpectedly axed its critically acclaimed series "Farscape," fans used the Internet to coordinate rallies across America, Australia, Canada, Spain, Germany and Great Britain.

At Bagram Air Force Base in northern Afghanistan, soldiers couldn't picket, so they gathered to watch tapes of the show and write letters of protest instead. When other fans heard about this, they raised money to send the soldiers a "care package" of DVDs, photos and T-shirts. One European fan commented sardonically, "This is the first time I've felt positive about the American military lately."

The thought of a mine-clearing unit obsessing over a TV program that features living alien spaceships is surreal. But it also challenges the popular image of fans as isolated geeks who have lost touch with reality. And — as a fan myself — it's about time.

The mainstream media have traditionally shared the attitude expressed by William Shatner on "Saturday Night Live:" Disappointed fans should "get a life!" But more recently, commentators have started to acknowledge the way in which fan campaigns allow individual viewers to "talk back" to vast media corporations. Many viewers are frustrated by television's relentless pursuit of the lowest common denominator. And the antiquated Nielsen ratings system is increasingly being questioned even within the industry.

In the case of "Farscape," fan indignation was given an extra edge of bitterness by SciFi's decision to cancel the show less than a year after it had announced that, in an unprecedented deal, it would be renewing it for at least two more years. As one fan, Nina, wrote online: "This is not about a TV show; it's about having a voice in the face of these juggernaut companies who think so little of us."

But the fact that some people become so dedicated to particular television programs is no stranger than others' devotion to a cult band or author. But there's something about a science-fiction series that invites knee-jerk scorn.

One recurrent criticism of fan campaigns is that fans should be expending this time and energy on something more socially productive. But, as fans are eager to point out, many of us already do. My "day job" is as a campaigner for the rights of children and adults with autism. A life? Already got one, thanks.

And despite the cliché of science-fiction fans as teenage boys, viewers of "Farscape" are mostly adult professionals. Almost uniquely among science-fiction shows, it draws equal numbers of men and women. And a roll call of fans online turned up plenty of doctors, fire-fighters, counselors, teachers and so on — in addition to the predictable number of software engineers.

If anything, typical "Farscape" fans don't have too much time on their hands, but too little. In a hectic life, a guaranteed hour of entertainment that doesn't insult the intelligence can be a precious commodity. This doesn't equal escapism — the world of "Farscape" is often a twisted and shocking one. But, as Charlotte, another fan, said, "I don't enjoy shows about cops or lawyers or hospitals — they're too damn much like work. I gave at the office."

"In my day job I help run a psychiatric center," she explained. "Any random month, we're dealing with close calls and human misery: abused kids, well-armed ex-husbands, breathtaking stupidity. If it's a trainwreck or a meltdown, I'm one of the people who get called. At the end of the week it's a nice reward, to be able to relax into "Farscape." It isn't my usual thing; it wouldn't have caught my attention if my husband hadn't sat me down in front of it. But those characters resonate for me, in a powerful and refreshing way. They know that friendship, decency, kindness and wit help keep you going — but so do silliness, good sex and black leather pants."

Spc. Howard W. Bushey III, who organized the Bagram rally, described his empathy with the show's protagonist, a lost astronaut stranded in an alien environment: "I work with all sorts of different people, from the Aussies to the Polish to our own soldiers — just trying to find a way home..."

Via e-mail (with the obligatory disclaimer that he could only speak for himself, not for the US Army), he explained that, for him, the campaign to save the show had become "a bright shining light in the darkness of this place ... Funny how that show can fit into people's lives."

What's puzzling is not why people become dedicated fans of particular television programs — it's why we are so embarrassed by it. Even sympathetic journalists tend to cover fan campaigns with a tone of amused superiority.

Protesters are advised to call themselves "viewers" (never "fans") when lobbying executives, because the "F-word" instantly evokes potential stalkers. This creates a neat catch-22: Networks can brush off protests about a cancellation as the work of "disgruntled fans," since who but a few cranks would care that much about a TV show? The sort of brand loyalty that other industries yearn for becomes a liability. People who care too much are scary, naïve — embarrassing. After all, as we hear again and again, it's only a TV show.

As a culture, we are simultaneously enthralled and embarrassed by TV. It absorbs huge amounts of our attention — but only as "pop culture." A film or a novel may be high art, junk or somewhere in between, but anyone who applies the same standards to television programs seems pretentious or deranged. Even media scholars writing about television maintain a protective air of postmodern irony, especially if the program in question features vampires or aliens.

It's not surprising that it took six seasons before some critics started to notice that "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" was not the fluff-with-fangs its title suggested, but one of the most sophisticated shows on the air.

"Farscape" has won comparable acclaim; TV Guide called it "the most irreverent, unpredictable, sexy, intelligent and exciting sci-fi show on TV." But although such praise may help boost ratings when the remaining 11 episodes air (beginning on Jan. 10), it may not be enough to rescue the show.

Ultimately, the basic reason people are reluctant to take TV shows seriously is that most TV shows are garbage. But perhaps that's so precisely because we're afraid to expect or demand anything else, because we aid and abet TV companies in treating shows as interchangeable and disposable. You miss "Farscape"? Here, shut up and have a series about man-eating, giant earthworms instead.

Contrary to the assumptions of the TV companies, the people who protest cancellations are typically not wide-eyed, indiscriminate consumers who have mistaken television for reality. More often, they're highly selective viewers who have fallen hard for a show precisely because it stands out as an exception to the rule. And they are among the few people around who are perverse and dogged enough to make themselves thorns in the corporate side.

There are worse pastimes for an intelligent adult.

E-mail Clare Sainsbury at cns at dircon dot co dot uk.