Fame's Existential Trap

In his novel Humboldt's Gift, Saul Bellow described the onset of fame, "I experienced the high voltage of publicity. It was like picking up a dangerous wire fatal to ordinary folk. It was like the rattlesnake handled by hillbillies in a state of religious exaltation."

Our MM 2/15/18 Glory Days discussion centered around MM lunch guest Brad Lidge -- the close-out pitcher to win the final game  for the Phillies in the World Series on October 29, 2008  -- who so ably managed to handle the rattlesnake as he parlayed his fame (most certainly in Philadelphia) into a solid career and the pursuit of studies and interests far afield from that which had made him famous.  More often than not, though, are the stories of those athletes, rock stars, starlets who succumb to the addiction, alienation, depression, and self-destruction under the glare.

What is it, then, that accounts for the reported statistic that the achievement of fame is the prime objective among those twenty-five years and younger? The question invites a closer look with the advent of the internet -- more specifically, social media -- which has offered the opportunity for a kind of individual celebrity on the virtual world stage (click: On The Internet, We're Always Famous). The potential for individual exposure has never been closer, leading to the fulfillment of Andy Warhol's Law, "In the future, everybody will be famous for at least fifteen minutes." 

The answer to the fame question, as we'll discuss, starts with the existential trap propounded by Hegel in his meditations on the fundamental human drive for recognition, the need to be seen. Where we get all balled up, according to Hegel, is when man's need for recognition can be satisfied only by the recognition of those he regards as being worthy. The Hegelian paradigm is that of Master and Slave: the Master desires recognition from the Slave but, because the Master does not recognize the Slave's humanity, the Master cannot accept such recognition.

Replace the Master-Slave paradigm with that of the Star-Fan -- because the Star cannot recognize the Fan (who is a stranger to the Star), the Fan's recognition of the Star cannot satisfy the core existential need of the Star. The resulting paradox -- the pursuit through fame of a thing that fame cannot provide -- becomes psychologically destabilizing as this core need for meaningful recognition becomes reduced to and confused with mere attention-grabbing. 

Now apply this principle to the post-internet age where most everyone is offered a platform by which to garner attention. The search for attention -- this pseudo-recognition -- is open to all through the virtual outlet of social media. Perhaps recall that old New Yorker cartoon depicting two dogs in front of a computer screen, one saying to the other "On the internet no one knows you're a dog."

Most everyone now possesses the possibility of star power. Maybe start with oneself posting some joke on Facebook. Feel the tiny "high voltage of publicity" rendered by that first up-vote, followed by twenty more. Who are these people? Who cares, they must like me. I garner attention; therefore, I am.

Welcome to fame's existential trap where one's need for recognition becomes satisfied, not through any meaningful interaction within the real world, but through this virtual community of strangers. You might just as well be a dog. You, the dog, are now held hostage to the virtual community and become so defined. Your need for attention becomes addicting.

Then, one day, you are downvoted. That which had built you up begins to tear you down. Maybe a picture of you is involved or some other real-world peek at your essence. Maybe you are young and impressionable. You are devastated by this perceived rejection of virtual strangers.

What more needs to be said not only about the allure of social media but about its sinister, even punitive, power.