What is a celebrity?
First there must be an ingredient of athletic, artistic, financial or
professional achievement; or of political power; or of chance
collocation at the centre of events; or of birth or marriage as the
child, relative, husband or wife of a celebrity.
Then there will always
be one more element in the equation: the public need for celebrities.
The public need is an
almost irresistible force. That that need alone does not turn completely
random persons into celebrities is only because there is always an
adequate pool of candidates who meet one or more of the other
qualifications.
Now, what does this
public need for celebrities consist of? Again there are two factors:
1. The prism of the
media, whether designedly or undesignedly, gives its characters a mythic
quality. Even if there is no intent to sensationalize, the journalistic
need to simplify, to paint a character in a few strokes, assures its
subjects a story-time radiance. So though it is the nature of the human
mind to fantasize about anybody and everybody, we will especially tend
to fantasize about people who are in the media glare: about being those
people or being close to those people. We will fantasize about being
those people in the belief that they live charmed lives, and we will
fantasize about knowing those people in the belief that they have more
to give us, more energy to quicken the tenor of our lives, more love.
2. Every child wants
to be the centre of attention. Attention of any kind is almost as good
as love. And most people remain children in that way all their lives. We
all want the limelight.
It goes without saying, of course, that we cannot all
have the limelight. There is no room. So we try to attain it—most
people try to deserve it in a positive way, a few resort to desperate
measures—but we all try and most of us fail.
To compensate for that failure, we dwell on the lives
of those who are in the limelight. We become fascinated by the famous.
If we have actually been touched by some athletic or artistic expression
on their part, that increases our fascination. But even, for example, if
I do not follow the fashion world, I will read an article about the
personal life of a famous fashion designer; I will be interested just
because the person is famous, just because he or she is getting the
attention that I wanted.
But, not surprisingly,
merely to keep up through the media with the lives of such people does
not completely satisfy us. To narrow the gap between ourselves and that
sensation of the limelight that we crave, we would prefer that the
celebrity be responsive to us. (Which is to say, responsive to our
responses. Interaction consists of responses to responses.) So we begin
to wish that the celebrity would desire and seek positive responses from
us the public, or even begin to feel that it is the celebrity’s moral
duty to do so. We want the person to shape their art, their sport, their
politics, to please us. And not merely externally to shape their art,
etc., but clearly to express in that way their inner need for public
approval. Even better if the person will accede to or court interviews
in which they will seek to justify themselves to the public.
When we feel needed by
those who are getting the attention, we feel that we share in the
attention.
Concomitantly, what we
will never forgive in a celebrity is indifference to our approval. A
declaration of indifference, yes, but real indifference, no.
For this latter
reason, saints do not make good celebrities. Saints are anything but
indifferent to us, but they are indifferent to our approval. They
usually go little recognized in their times.
That they do not
become celebrities is in one way paradoxical, because the above two
factors in our need for celebrities are based on our need for love. It
is saints who could give love unconditionally—celebrities will want
something in return. Similarly, to the extent that we do respond to
saints, our response is "being love", as is their love for us;
it is not "deficiency love". It is freely given, it is not
demanding.
Most of us, however,
do not easily recognize real love. According to Indian philosophy, the
awesome variety of our earthly preoccupations is nothing but the search
for love up every wrong tree.
If only, now, we could develop the
part of ourselves that responds to saints, and responds to the elusive
Absolute within saints, the source of all love, we would soon outgrow
our need for celebrities.
Dada
Acyutananda is a teacher of Ananda Marga meditation. The author’s
website, "Surfing the Innernet" is at http://home.pacific.net.sg/~jpreston/advaeta.
He can be contacted at acyutananda@amps.org.
This
article was published in New Renaissance, Volume 9, No. 1, issue
28
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