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.
