The dark side of entertainment
Born and bred Karachi residents will be hard-pressed to find among them someone who has not been touched by crime. It does not stay out on the streets; it can take place right inside our homes. From petty theft to burglaries to kidnappings and murders, most of us have known the dark side of Gotham. The shock and trauma of a brush with such crime is unforgettable. The irony is when people like us have an appetite of watching it on television as a voluntary form of escapism. Is there something wrong with us?
It is a striking paradox: why would a population who live under the constant shadow of real-world violence choose to unwind by watching stories of murder, deceit, and psychological warfare? Do we have a deep-seated perversion or are we just that desensitised to moral wrongdoing? This appetite for crime and thriller television is widespread as Netflix ratings will prove. Only recently, I have watched documentaries, films and series revisiting some true crimes (from serious catphishing, to faking pregnancies, to finding yourself married to a murderer) and some fictional shows that had me hooked. The world is rife with criminals and psychos with bizarre motives and gruesome actions– and it seems that as tv audiences we are here for it.
Some psychology studies attribute neat reasoning behind our affinity for dark acts. As Dr Pamela B Rutledge notes in her analysis of crime media, the fascination with violent narratives serves deep emotional and cognitive functions. Rather than reflecting a broken psyche, our binge-watching habits represent a subconscious attempt to process real-world anxiety, gain a sense of control, and exercise our deepest fears within a safe, controlled environment.
Living in an environment where threat is a constant backdrop forces the human mind into a state of quiet, ongoing vigilance. When real-life crime is unpredictable and personal, watching dramatised or true-crime television on screen serves as a form of psychological rehearsal. Media psychology theories, such as Uses and Gratifications, suggest that audiences actively choose content to fulfill specific emotional needs, particularly the need for understanding, mastery, and emotional regulation.
For viewers who face systemic or street-level vulnerabilities, crime dramas offer a structured space to process threats. On television, the mechanics of a crime are laid bare. By witnessing how victimhood occurs—and how survivors or investigators navigate it—viewers engage in threat management. It allows us to ask, "What would I do?" without having to face actual harm. Paradoxically, learning how crimes unfold gives audiences a feeling of preparedness, transforming a chaotic reality into something that feels, at least conceptually, manageable.
But all that seems like a reach when you are sitting on your sofa, rapt, in front of the TV noshing on snacks while a documentary is stitching together the modus operandi of a cold-blooded killer.
The genre has captivated the attention of women and social media has guaranteed their love for crime. Even research consistently demonstrates that while crime media attracts a global audience, women form the vast majority of its consumer base. In a study led by researchers Amanda Vicary and R Chris Fraley at the University of Illinois, findings revealed that women overwhelmingly chose true-crime stories and psychological thrillers over other forms of violent media, such as war or gang violence.
They say this gender disparity is rooted in psychological self-preservation and empathy.
The study discovered that women were particularly drawn to stories that contained psychological profiles of attackers or "clever tricks" that potential victims used to escape. Because women statistically face a disproportionate threat of sexual assault and domestic violence, consuming thriller media operates as a survival manual. Subconsciously, female viewers absorb information about red flags, defensive tactics, and predatory behaviour to increase their own odds of survival.
Then there are psychological and domestic thrillers that often centre on intimate spaces—homes, workplaces, and primary relationships. For female viewers, watching female protagonists navigate betrayal, danger, and trauma offers a way to confront domestic anxieties and see women take on active, empowered roles rather than remaining passive victims
Women frequently report higher levels of narrative empathy, allowing them to connect deeply with victims and survivors. This emotional investment elevates the narrative stakes and makes the ultimate resolution or escape far more gratifying.
A real-world street mugging or home burglary leaves behind a lingering sense of violation without a satisfying narrative resolution. By contrast, thriller and crime television operates within a carefully structured arc. After building suspense, ultimately, a resolution is offered—whether through the exposure of the culprit, the restoration of order, or the delivery of justice.
This structural certainty is crucial for emotional regulation. Watching a thrilling series exposes the brain to real physiological responses: elevated heart rates, spikes in adrenaline, and genuine anxiety. However, because this stress occurs in the safety of a living room, it offers a form of emotional catharsis or good kind of stress. We know beforehand that the outcome is controlled. And when the mystery is solved or the perpetrator is brought to justice, the psychological tension melts away. For viewers living in environments where justice is far from guaranteed, on-demand resolution offers a comforting antidote to the ambiguity of daily life.
The shift from classic police procedurals to modern bingeable streaming series has amplified this psychological dynamic. Streaming platforms leverage cinematic pacing and serialisation to create immersive experiences that demand deep emotional investment. The intimacy of modern screen storytelling—where viewers can follow every detail of a complex investigation or dive deep into the mind of an antagonist—fosters an intense feeling of involvement.
This level of immersion transforms us viewers from passive observers and we act as "armchair detectives," attempting to piece together clues, spot red flags, and stay one step ahead of the plot. This active cognitive engagement distracts from external stressors while satisfying a fundamental human drive to seek patterns and make sense of chaos.
While crime entertainment offers psychological relief, cultivation theory suggests that repeated exposure to intense, violent narratives can alter our perception of reality. Consuming high volumes of it can convince us that the world is significantly more dangerous than it actually is. For those who already live with elevated baseline anxiety due to their environment, heavy consumption of crime television can reinforce hyper-vigilance, and exacerbate chronic stress.
There is a fine line between meaningful storytelling and exploitative sensationalism. As crime media expands across streaming networks and digital platforms, the drive to captivate audiences often leads to stylised violence, the romanticisation of criminal minds, or the trivialisation of victim trauma. It risks desensitising viewers to real-world suffering and blurring the distinction between real human tragedy and casual entertainment.
An appetite for crime television in a crime-ridden world is not a contradiction, nor does it imply that something is inherently "wrong" with us. Instead, it highlights the complex ways human beings cope with fear and vulnerability. When real-life crime intrudes upon our streets and homes, we do not watch thrillers to celebrate violence; we watch them to master it.
Through the lens of fiction and controlled true-crime storytelling, we can confront our deepest anxieties, explore the darker aspects of human nature, and experience the satisfaction of order restored—all from a safe distance.