While the world largely ignores the ongoing massacre in Iran, while human rights organizations that once spoke loudly—such as Amnesty International—have fallen into a disturbing silence, many of us living outside our country of birth are left suspended between grief and helplessness.
We look away not because we don’t care, but because caring nonstop without power destroys you. Until a miracle happens—until a nation of 90 million people is freed after 47 years of inhumanity, injustice, and violence—we search for moments of distraction just to survive emotionally.
Sometimes, that distraction is trash TV.
Years ago, I wrote about the stark differences between the UK and German versions of I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here (German title: Ich bin ein Star, holt mich hier raus). This year only confirms everything I said back then. I often observe reality TV not for entertainment, but because it exposes human behavior in its rawest form. And this season? It is a masterclass in embarrassment.
In the British version, participants—who are usually actual celebrities, not fame-hungry reality leftovers—tend to show compassion, teamwork, humor, emotional intelligence, and mutual respect. They support each other. They grow together.
The German version, by contrast, feels like a social experiment gone wrong.
What we see is aggression instead of cooperation, ego instead of empathy, volume instead of substance. There is no politeness, no solidarity, no kindness—just hostility and constant tension. It’s genuinely shocking how wide the mental and emotional gap appears between the two formats. Shameful, really.
This year, however, one participant stands out in the worst possible way: a 22-year-old woman whose behavior goes far beyond the usual “difficult contestant.” In past seasons, there was always one person who made camp life miserable. This time, she surpasses them all.
She is described as Swiss. Let me be very clear: this has nothing to do with nationality. This is not cultural. This is personal misconduct—rooted in poor upbringing and bad manners. Swiss people may be reserved, indirect, even passive-aggressive at times. But they do not openly humiliate, harass, and verbally attack others day after day. What we are witnessing is not bluntness. It is cruelty.
Her primary target is Gil Ofarim.
Anyone who follows international media knows his past and the controversy surrounding him. Whatever your opinion on that case may be, the truth is simple: none of us knows the full story. He has already paid a significant price, professionally and personally. He has faced consequences.
What is happening now, however, goes far beyond criticism or confrontation. What we are seeing is sustained bullying. And let’s be honest—we only see 20 to 30 minutes out of 24 hours. One can only imagine what happens off-camera.
I will not mention this woman by name. I refuse to give harmful people additional platforms. But I will say this: her behavior shows a frightening lack of empathy and self-control. Watching it, one cannot help but wonder how much psychological damage is being inflicted daily.
Gil, on the other hand, remains calm. Respectful. Controlled. A gentleman. Anyone else in his position would have snapped long ago. That alone speaks volumes.
What is equally disturbing is the silence of the production. No clear boundaries. No intervention. No statement. Allowing this behavior to continue unchecked—on national television—is a moral failure. Especially when young viewers are watching and learning that humiliation equals entertainment.
It does not.
Bullying is not drama. Public degradation is not content. And abuse should never be rewarded with airtime.
I hope Gil wins this show—not as revenge, but as restoration. And more than that, I hope he finds his way back to where he belongs: on stage. He is talented. He carries himself with dignity. And whatever happened in the past should remain in the past—not be weaponized as an excuse for present-day abuse.
