‘Survivor’ Turns 25: Here’s Why I’ve Been Watching for My Whole Life
The genius of Survivor lies in its simplistic yet transportive nature. The elevator pitch—what if you made strangers live on an island together, vote someone out at the end of each episode, and the last person standing gets $1 million?—is straightforward, so much so that even a five-year-old could immediately grasp it, and, better yet, put themselves in the headspace of each castaway. Did I have any idea how much money a million dollars was? No, not even close. But I did know that there were people in my grade school classes who I happily would have booted off the island, and best believe I identified the athletic kids who would have been tough competition in physical challenges. The way the actual season unfolds, though, is anything but straightforward. Betrayal, deception, and emotional volatility are hallmarks of the show, and each group of contestants brings its own interpersonal dynamic, but the familiar tropes Survivor fans cling to in 2025 were there 25 years ago too. The show is more heavily produced now than it was during its infancy, something that the traditionalists sometimes wring their hands over, but at the start of each new season (it just wrapped the 48th), millions of people keep tuning in.
This is, in part, to watch every person who signs up decide how insane they’re willing to be for $1 million. The choices one makes while they’re marooned on a Survivor beach showcase just how far they’ll go for the money, and the extent to which they’ll stretch the boundaries of what it means to be a good person. Would you make up a lie that your grandmother died to garner sympathy? Would you let four beautiful women talk you out of your immunity necklace, giving up a guaranteed spot in the final four? Would you vote out your own mother? These are all real things that have happened, and none of those people even won!
Putting the silliness aside for a second, there are genuinely powerful lessons, perspectives, and experiences I’ve gained from watching Survivor. Richard Hatch, the controversial winner of the inaugural season, was probably the first openly gay person I ever saw on television. (Admittedly, he probably wasn’t the best depiction I could have found.) The show’s voting process? It low-key taught me what democracy was. Even now, every time I’m introduced to a new group of people, I subconsciously find myself aligning with some, distancing myself from others, and keeping a close eye on the ones who are hardest to read—as Survivor has taught me, the latter are often the most important. Perhaps most concerningly, I learned the utility of a lie, and how sometimes you have to do it, putting yourself above all else.
Even with the same host—the marvelous and singular Jeff Probst—lording over every single episode of the show’s history, I always find myself impressed at the show’s ability to find room for newness. Probst, a constant figure in my life since kindergarten, is evolving too, in ways that champion the ideas of modern masculinity that appeal to me far more than any manosphere nonsense. For instance, after 25 years, Probst finally cried on-air during the most recent season. It was prompted by Eva Erickson, the first openly autistic person to ever appear on Survivor, bonding with tribemate Joe Hunter over her condition. After a particularly grueling challenge, which Erickson struggled with, Hunter helped her through an autistic episode.
