FAME UNDERMINES THERAPY IN REALITY TV'S 'BRAT CAMP'

Here's the latest premise for a reality television program: "What
would you do with a teen who curses at you, breaks the law in your
house and doesn't listen to anything you say?"

That's what families are facing in ABC's new reality series Brat
Camp. The show follows nine teens, whisked without their knowledge to
SageWalk, an intense and intensive program of tough confrontations
taking place in Redmond, Ore. The hope: These facilitated experiences
will turn their troubled lives around.

Therapy programs like this are extreme and controversial, yet
sometimes effective. The teens come from varied backgrounds, all
disturbing. One girl was molested at 11, a boy was diagnosed with
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, and another girl's adoptive
parents fear that their daughter is heading toward the drug-induced
coma her birth mother landed in.

The reality is that for young people struggling with issues this
giant and personal, to have their depths dumped out on national TV
crosses a line that we, as a society, should strenuously question.

Teenagers are not houses; they should not be submitted to national TV
for an extreme human makeover. Their arduous personal journeys are
not suited for reality TV's sensationalized, faux drama, with its
leading teasers for each segment and its reductive labeling of
participants alongside his or her name: compulsive liar, violent,
self-destructive or hyperactive.

The risks for these teens -- as the show's narration intones -- are
huge. Their desperate parents made a high-stakes gamble, hoping that
SageWalk can ameliorate their private pain -- in this show, while the
public views their personal journeys.

The wilderness school model already has to overcome a formidable
breach of trust with its students, who had little or no say in
whether they participated. Their parents made that call, though the
kids did agree to appear on TV.

A key component of why these therapeutic programs work, though, is
that the trust built within the group draws participants out of
themselves. To add to the pressure of rolling cameras and national
television exposure surely compromises the likelihood of that trust
taking hold.

Maybe these are worthwhile risks, but the notion that such difficult,
critical issues can unfold under the rubric of entertainment is unsettling.

The subject matter and the form are at painful odds with one another.
While watching, I wanted to place a big private sign across my TV
set. Yet the voyeuristic appeal is unmistakable. It is fascinating to
observe how SageWalk's staff approaches these kids and is attuned to
their emotions and needs. The program includes hiking, camping and
group therapy. These professionals -- counselors and therapists who
have been involved with SageWalk for years -- do not seem intent upon
fame. Regardless, Brat Camp projects a strange mixture of
sensationalism and promotion for SageWalk alongside its authentic,
admirable process.

I'm pulling for all nine of these teens to rise above their personal
demons, as well as the ones that television's notoriety might place
ahead of them.

The wilderness of public opinion and reality TV celebrity awaits
them, and not because they signed up for such fame. In this country,
we safeguard young people through child labor laws, protective
services and anonymity in the court system.

What sets Brat Camp apart from many other potentially demeaning
programs meant to entertain is that it robs what is too personal from
unsuspecting minors for others' consumption -- rather than solely for
the teens' benefit.