Public Outpourings

On celebrity deaths and public grief...

The reaction to celebrity deaths in recent times has become more analysable than the deaths themselves. Social media has provided a bigger platform than ever before to share views and reactions at lightning speed, and as such it is quicker and easier to gauge public reaction where before we would only have the mainstream media and our immediate social circle for reference. And people, as it turns out, are curious creatures.

Public figures by their very nature feel like part of our lives. Their familiarity gives us the sense that we know them, and so unsurprisingly their death can feel for many like a personal loss. But is it really natural to feel genuine grief for these people who in reality we actually don’t know at all? No doubt it depends on the individual, and their particular psychological circumstances. Personally I have only ever once been moved almost to tears by a celebrity death (John Peel, if you were wondering), and I must admit I struggle to understand the phenomenon.

In Britain, we seem to have something of a reputation for public grief, typified and possibly even provoked by the hysterical outpourings following the death of Diana, Princess of Wales. Of course the violent suddenness of her demise provided the shock element, but still, the reaction was if not over the top then certainly mighty close to it. She was a well-loved public figure, though one tainted by scandal and no longer part of the royal family at the time of her death, and millions grieved as if their own mother or sister had passed.

Another more recent case that struck me as fantastically odd was the grieving for Apple CEO Steve Jobs. For the head of a technology company to be viewed with such messianic status, and mourned as though humanity had lost one of the most significant figures in its history surely heralded the imminent coming of some kind of reckoning. One of the few sane voices came from former Channel 4 technology correspondent, Benjamin Cohen, who put together a tempered obituary pointing out that Jobs might not actually have been the messiah (though not much of a naughty boy). 

The standing of the celebrity in question obviously plays a major role in the reaction. In the past, the usual formula for celebrity death reaction would see the sombre mass media obituaries complemented by tasteless (but usually brilliant) jokes in the streets. Social media now also provides the opportunity to counterbalance the purely respectful position of the mainstream media, and boy have we grabbed that opportunity. No longer can the opinion of people at large be conveniently ignored.

The death of Margaret Thatcher last year was a litmus test of public decency. As it turned out social media wasn’t really required, as the haters took to the streets in celebration. For years I had placed myself in the ‘would celebrate’ camp in the event of her shuffling off her mortal coil, but when the time came, I found I didn’t really feel anything. Sure, I went off on a few rants at my Italian students who knew her more as Meryl Streep than the Milk Snatcher, but ultimately I simply didn’t care that she was dead. I didn’t know her. 

Conversely, any dissenting voices in the wake of the passing of Nelson Mandela were severely frowned at from most quarters, yet here was another controversial and highly divisive figure depending on which side of the political spectrum you fall on. Like with Diana, popular opinion left no room for negative sentiment or discussion. Around the time of death is not the time for this anyway, but it’s understandable how it happens, as those with negative opinions struggle to hold back in the face of the gushing praise. 

This month has seen a rush of high profile deaths with a variety of reactions. Bob Crow and Tony Benn left the left in mourning, the former more of a sudden shock and a more divisive figure. Unlike with the Thatcher, very little in the way of celebrating was in evidence, just debates and arguments for and against his actions and beliefs, just as when he was alive. This, really, is the way it should be; death should never really be something to celebrate. 

Then we had the death of the designer L’Wren Scott, notable mainly for the initial morbid reaction of some sections of the media, and the subsequent critical reaction of others. That reaction centred more on the grieving state of her partner, Mick Jagger, and the poor woman herself has actually been somewhat overlooked in the whole affair. From this we learn not much more than the tabloids are still soulless vacuums of sensitivity, and are probably best ignored in these instances. 

Finally, we have the passing of the head of the notorious Westboro Baptist Church, Fred Phelps. Once again, Twitter has displayed the amount of disdain you would expect to be directed at such a divisive figure, the jokes fairly mirthless, the contempt not even vaguely disguised. Again, this should have been a death I should celebrate, but I can’t. Again, I just don’t care. Fred and his church are quite frankly absurd, and beyond the relatives of the people whose funerals they picket, I can’t understand anyone getting offended by such blind bonkers nonsense. In fact as regards WBC, the people I feel most sorry for are the poor offspring of the older wackos who are brainwashed into the cult as they grow up. Phelps’ death should not be celebrated. It should not even be acknowledged. They crave attention, so we should give them nothing.

The tabloid treatment of celebrity death can be distasteful or even offensive, as can public reaction given the new voice offered to people via social media. Ultimately it is a sad thing when someone dies, whatever their standing. Someone out there will be genuinely grieving for them. For the rest of us, we don’t know them, so a simple, metaphorical doffing of the cap and a muttered “my sympathies” should more than suffice.