For the last few months, record numbers of TV viewers have been asking, "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?" And according to the hit ABC game show, the final answer is: upper-middle class white guys.
While it's unlikely that the show's producers consciously practice gender, racial or class discrimination among their contestants, so far "Millionaires'" players have been suspiciously monochrome: Of the 85 winners featured on the game's official Web site, all but one is white and only nine are women. Furthermore, against overwhelming odds, somehow only one of these everyday common-folk has a blue-collar job. In fact, the most common profession among all contestants is "attorney" (followed by "financier").
Such skewed demographics might cause viewers to wonder if cubicle dwellers are actually smarter than everybody else, or if the people in lower-paying jobs just don't want to be millionaires.
But a more likely explanation lies in the way ABC picks its contestants. To earn a place on national television with quizmaster Regis Philbin, "Millionaire" hopefuls must quickly answer a battery of multiple-choice questions. Though ABC insists these entrance exams test only "general knowledge," questions usually involve consumer-culture, high-tech buzzwords and Hollywood trivia. Given these topics, it's easy to understand why people who can afford more movie tickets, pay closer attention to ad slogans, and buy more gadgets, might have an advantage. By contrast, it's hard to imagine Regis asking the next would-be tycoon about factory tools, domestic skills or a minority's cultural folklore.
If "Millionaire" claimed to be just an entertaining fantasy world, then the fact that certain social groups get a head start might not matter. But according to Michael Davies, the show's producer, the game actually is meant to represent real life. "We don't care about ethnic things," Davies insisted in an interview with The New York Times. "We treat everybody the same. The show broadly reflects society."
This means that even though Millionairians win largely thanks to luck and socioeconomic status, ABC is doing its best to convince audiences that contestants succeed purely on the basis of hard work and intelligence. Viewers are left to draw their own conclusions about why all the big winners seem to be people who have high-paying jobs anyway. The impression that quiz show contestants earn (and therefore deserve) their winnings is in stark contrast to the image presented by other game shows, sweepstakes and giveaways.
No one would claim that the Virginia Lotto rewards especially intelligent or virtuous people. In fact, lottery ads are sure to emphasize how anybody can strike it rich. This is why lottery promoters love to trumpet dramatic rags-to-riches stories, like that of the Chilean immigrant who won last year's $197 million Big Game jackpot. Or the 66-year old black short-order cook who bought the lucky ticket in New York's "Millennium Millions" drawing. Or the Ohio machine shop workers who split their Powerball payout in 1998. In fact, those stories and others might lead someone to conclude that women, minorities and manual laborers who apparently aren't even smart enough to qualify for Regis' knowledge test can only make money through dumb luck.
In the quiz show scandals of the 1950's, producers helped players cheat so that likeable, attractive contenders would be sure to win and boost ratings. At the time, Americans found it scandalous that anybody would even think of manipulating the outcome of a show that claimed to embody fair play. In the last half-century, television producers learned a lot from those early mistakes: Now they're so good, they can rig their shows without even thinking.