Society has moved fairly seamlessly from the communication era to the celebrity era. But the very concept of stardom is eroding – every Tom, Dick and Harry is now a ‘C-list’ celebrity. Idols, X-Factor, Big Brother, Dragon’s Den and The Apprentice – children are growing up with ambitions of becoming the next runner-up on Big Brother series 43.
by ROSS BOWERS
Self-promotion is the name of the game. Virtual profiles – Facebook, My Space, JDate, Linked In, Gaydar, Twitter – they have evolved from ‘social networking’ into something more akin to DIY celebrity tools, a narcissistic tribute to all things ‘Me’. My favourite colour, book and sexual position. Things I like, things I don’t like, photos of me, photos of me with you, photos of you with my wife. Twitter and Facebook updates are a method of mass communication previously the realm of journalists, news readers and genuine celebrities. Cretins (and I include myself here) enter mind numbing status updates under the illusion that 750 cyber friends actually give a tweet. Mass communication makes the user feel like a star, like hundreds of people are hanging on every word. Some gimp I met at a bar one drunken evening and an ex co-worker, like my status and have given it the thumbs up. They love me – they really love me!
I was incredulous when I was invited by someone to become a fan of, well, his. What a piece of self-publicity! Create a page dedicated to yourself with regular updates and air-brushed photos, then invite everyone you know to become fans. Captivating updates then follow surrounding banal quotidian routines. This page now has nearly 100000 fans. How easy is that?!
I for one must confess to a little rock-staritis. Not only can we convince ourselves that we are celebrities, but wow, look at all my celebrity friends! We now have access to genuine celebrities like never before – the avuncular Stephen Fry for example, King of Twitter, is constantly churning out blogs, tweets and podcasts. It feels like he’s my best mate, but he oddly never replies to my messages – probably just too busy.
We are shaping a group of young people who genuinely believe they are famous. Youngsters that believe they have a 1 000 friends and lord knows how many followers. They behave like super-models and have become even more image conscious than the youngsters of yesteryear – photos of a befuddled night out are on Facebook before you’ve left the dance floor. Teenagers are convinced that the predatory paparazzi (their friends with camera phones) are lurking around every corner.
This celebrity culture nurtures an inability to communicate on an intimate and personal level. Just pout. Blue steel. People become lazy – why pick up the phone or arrange to meet up with a friend when a simple poke will do? And it’s getting worse – more and more virtual access, faster and faster network connections. Instant access.
There is also something insidious happening on the social networking sites. Certain status updates on Facebook are terribly macabre – people are opening themselves up in way never possible before. Joe is sad. Patricia is feeling lonely. Gordon is feeling good. Cries for attention in cyberspace. Emotions are being shared so freely that they, like stardom are losing meaning. You may get a ‘comment’ on your wall to cheer you up, but it is a very flimsy and ephemeral gesture. Emotion cannot be expressed on a computer screen. Yet that is where young people are expressing themselves. To a virtual audience of ‘celebrity’ groupies. Facebook is trivialising emotions to the point where the effect is either to create a generation of automatons whose emotion is only expressed through keystrokes or worse, to create a generation that feels ignored and frustrated at the impersonal nature of 21st century interaction.
After a few messages and a poke on Facebook, it’s friends for life. Not a particularly rewarding friendship mind. And God forbid you ‘defriend’ someone on Facebook, the ultimate modern day insult. Now though, there is no need – you can just ‘hide’ them instead. The pretence of friendship is therefore intact (and of course you keep your numbers up) and you never have to know anything about them. We are setting ourselves up for a fall.
So step away from your computer. Put down your smart phones. With a dose of humility and some human interaction, let’s get back to reality. You are not a celebrity.
