Can a non-delegable duty of care extend to the participants of reality TV?
14 May 2026
For those who have far better things to do than watch reality TV, the crème de la crème (in our humble opinion as dedicated consumers of reality TV) is Married at First Sight (MAFS), a self-proclaimed ‘social experiment’ that introduces two people at the aisle to be wed.
It’s a show that fuses different cultural takes on marriage (combining a traditionally Eastern worldview of arranged marriages in the modern and predominantly Western society of Australia) and dating, focusing on the story and analysis of dating in the modern world, the psychology of attraction, and human connection. The storylines in the show intertwine and engage with an audience of around 2–3 million people per episode in this 2026 run.
The success of this show lies in how effectively it taps into certain aspects of our psychology to keep us coming back for more, regardless of how tawdry. The narrative and storytelling within reality TV shows like MAFS are at the core of what keeps us hooked on them. We as humans are wired to be drawn to stories in any form, and MAFS follows the most classic storytelling arcs – heroes, villains, redemption, conflict, and chasing that happily ever after. Those elements, combined with the cliffhangers and the intentional editing, are what keep us wanting more, and what keeps us coming back (even if we know we have better things to do).
The other major psychological explanation behind what keeps us hooked is the amount of emotional stimulation we get out of it. Just like any reality TV show, MAFS allows us to naturally compare our relationships, appearances, and behaviours with those on screen. Watching these shows gives us a socially acceptable way to judge others (so we feel better about ourselves after watching), but then also gives us something to talk about with fellow viewers, which feeds into our need for social connection and acceptance.
Reality TV’s ability to balance relatability with exaggeration is the icing on the cake. Particularly in MAFS, the relationships revolve around real-life experiences (dating, commitment, insecurity) that are amplified for dramatic effect. As participants gradually start to feel like characters to us (often reflecting people we’ve encountered in our own lives), the show embodies an ideal mix of relatability and exaggeration, making it familiar, entertaining, and ultimately quite addictive for our brains.
Working in the personal injury law space has prompted a look at this show from a legal lens as well. Putting aside the ‘characters’ that the contestants often become in the viewer’s eyes, these are real people who have been selected to appear on a TV show. The often outlandish behaviours that appear on screen alongside the post-show issues that have at times unfolded open up the conversation around the duty of care for the participants.
Can the employer/employee relationship extend to reality TV participants?
At first glance it would seem implausible to say that participants who go on MAFS could meet the indicia of employment. However, if you consider their schedule, uniform, and rate of pay, how could it not?
Participants on MAFS (and almost every other reality TV show):
- Film on a strict schedule (whether that be Monday through Friday, or another set period).The employer has control over when and how the work is performed.
- Are told what to wear (often specific clothing brands and style of clothing to meet sponsorship obligations and style expectations). The worker is required to wear a uniform or display material that associates them with the employer’s business.
- Are paid to appear on the show (despite it being an incredibly low rate of pay). The worker is paid on a set scale rather than for work performed, indicating an employer/employee relationship rather than an independent contractor.
Considering the above, there is no doubt that these participants could be considered employees. In fact, that is what the Workers Compensation Commission in New South Wales found in 2019 – that reality TV participant, Ms Price, was for the intent and purpose of workers compensation, an employee.[1]
Is there a claim for damages? Are these participants at a risk of injury?
Should the participants be entitled to a common law claim to recover damages for the negligence of other employees for which the employer is vicariously liable? [2]
Although we may like to believe that reality TV shows are unscripted and authentic, they’re actually carefully constructed environments designed to generate specific content that creators and producers know will reel us in.
In a show like MAFS, participants are placed in controlled and often high-pressure settings (such as living with strangers and attending orchestrated events like dinner parties, commitment ceremonies and participating in challenges set by producers), which heighten their regular emotions and increase the likelihood of outbursts or conflict.
Casting choices add fuel to the fire by pairing individuals with contrasting personalities or values, while producers subtly guide interactions through prompting and leading questions.
The producers know this, which is why they paired those participants together, but at what cost?
Along with casting choices, filming conditions including the incredibly long hours and the omnipresence of alcohol, can lower inhibitions and encourage more impulsive behaviour.
Producers control the story, and the participants. If we accept that an employer/employee relationship can be established, those producers owe a non-delegable duty of care to those participants.
Against that background, and with consideration to sections 9 and 10 of the Civil Liability Act (CLA), it appears there is truly a very real risk of a participant on MAFS suffering a psychiatric or a physical injury for which a claim for damages could be made in Queensland.
The CLA and its place in the world of reality TV
- A risk of injury that was foreseeable.
- A risk of injury that was not insignificant.
- In the circumstances, a reasonable person in the defendant’s position would have taken some precaution.
More recently this season, there has been an influx of bullying behaviours by participants towards other participants that would come close to causing serious and significant psychiatric injury.
Even though producers aren’t directing participants to throw wine glasses, or hurl insults, they are perpetuating and cultivating these situations to allow these behaviours and actions to play out – all in the name of reality TV and viewership.
A recent example is of Brook Crompton (a participant on this year’s season of MAFS) who, at a dinner party, hurled a tirade of insults towards participants that many viewers considered were entirely socially unacceptable and incredibly harmful.
Ms Crompton has recently spoken out in interviews explaining that after having previously exited the show, producers called her and allegedly ‘begged’ her to return for that dinner party; they kept her in her car for almost four hours waiting to enter the dinner party in which time she was provided with, and consumed, two bottles of Champagne. She has stated that producers were in her ear, egging her on and feeding her intel about who said what about her. It is not uncommon to hear about participants who exit these kinds of shows exhibiting mental health crises, or even committing suicide, as a result of their treatment. The Guardian produced an article in 2020 citing a source who opined that more than 38 suicides had been recorded by reality TV participants. [3]
In what other workplace would that be acceptable? It is entirely foreseeable that Brook would go into that dinner party intoxicated, upset, and ready to unleash on the first unsuspecting person. Not only is it irresponsible and unreasonable for the producers to put Brook in that situation, it is also entirely foreseeable that subjecting other participants to that behaviour would create a foreseeable risk of injury that a reasonable employer in that position would take precautions against.
What about other reality shows?
This spectacle is not just limited to MAFS or even just Australia. A recent Netflix documentary ‘Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model’ questioned the duty of the show to step in on situations involving male models and alcohol in which their young female participants were placed at a foreseeable, not insignificant risk of injury.
These producers, camera crews, and ultimately TV networks control the narrative, control the participants, and control the environment they are in. In those circumstances, it would be plausible to consider that the TV show owes a duty of care to its contestants to prevent a foreseeable risk of injury.
The intention here is not to ruin ‘good’ TV or invoke a sense of guilt for enjoying these shows, but to shed some light and to consider another perspective – whether the duty employers owe to their employees should extend to those providing us our regular entertainment?
It is clear from recent authorities handed down by the Courts, that the duty of care is ever evolving and extending to adapt to the reality of the modern world, so should steps towards protecting those on our TV screens fall under that duty?
We think so.
These shows tap into our human nature. Whether they’re scripted or not, their voyeuristic nature allows us to look into our own lives and the lives of those around us without any sense of guilt or obligation. If we want to continue to enjoy that privilege as consumers of reality TV, perhaps we need to advocate for and extend the duty to those providing that service to us. We don’t expect to exploit the construction worker down the street or the café worker up the road, so why should a TV screen change that?
It’s time for networks producing reality TV to increase their standard of care to those appearing on our screens.
The ALA thanks Isabella Blunt and Caitlyn Ryan for this contribution.
This is an edited version of an article first published by Travis Schultz & Partners.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are the authors and do not necessarily represent the views and opinions of the Australian Lawyers Alliance.
Learn how you can get involved and contribute an article.
[1] Prince v Seven Networks (Operations) Limited [2019] NSWWCC 313
[2] Kondis v State Transport Authority [1984] 154 CLR 672; 55 ALR 225
[3] ‘Why suicide is still the shadow that hangs over reality TV ’ The Guardian