"Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature, but he is a thinking reed" – Blaise Pascal
I find myself in the rare position of agreeing with Christopher Hitchens on this.
So, what’s the deal here? Is it that we feel ashamed for paying so much attention to Hilton, et al. that we heap scorn and derision on her at the first opportunity in order to feel better about ourselves?
Who is Paris Hilton? I don’t think any news networks are talking about whoever this is…… 😉
A couple of years ago with regard to the Michael Jackson trial. I said in a sermon: “We’re glad he’s up there on that cross because that means no one is looking at us and our shame.”
My thinking was/is heavily influenced by the Girardian notion of a “scapegoat” being both the one who is the cause of conflict and peace. The scapegoat is killed because the community unites against him/her as the source of what is troubling the community, and then the cathartic effect of collective violence causes a peace which is ascribed to the divinity of the scapegoat.
Girard explains that the scapegoat mechanism no longer works in the way it used to because a true scapegoat mechanism is invisible. As soon as you are aware that you are scapegoating, you cannot scapegoat in order to recover the peace that used to follow a cathartic act of violence. The prurient interest in O.J. Simpson, Michael Jackson, Anna Nicole Smith, and now Paris Hilton (and even left-wingers’ reflexive and unified front against President Bush) seems to indicate that the scapegoat mechanism still has a little bit of life left in it.
While Hitchens refuses to scapegoat Hilton, he says “I have no interest in Paris Hilton…she deserves to be left alone.” The difference between this and the Christian’s response to her ought to be obvious. She is a creature of God, and our response to her plight ought to be one of fervent prayer and supplication. As Christians, we ought to realize that we are at least as culpable for the evil in the world as she, if not to say with Dostoevsky, “I myself am responsible for the sins of all people.” So we realize that we cannot make her the scapegoat, and we commend her to the care of him who, though utterly innocent, became guilt for our sakes, who was also “despised and rejected, and acquainted with grief.”
Being a journalist, I’ve been in on a fair number of discussions about the media’s responsibilities in all this: how much do you respect privacy, how far is too far, etc. There’s a common (though not universal) attitude among reporters that media “whores” like Paris Hilton deserve what they get because they court attention, so they don’t have a right to complain about negative publicity. It may be that some of these celebs are coldly calculating to cover their own tracks (they don’t want the public to know how needy they are), but the more I look at them the more they look like drug addicts. They love the press, and they hate it; it’s destroying them, but they can’t stop. The public seems to have an addiction of its own: we love famous people and we hate them, we hate ourselves for loving them, etc. In that way, the media takes on a more sinister role as “dealer” to these twin addictions.
One thing I haven’t seen discussed much, however, is whether there’s an alternative. The commonest attitude — which Hitchens echoes — is that we shouldn’t be more interested in famous people than in anyone else. But I think that’s deeply unnatural. People are always interested in people who are unusually beautiful and/or talented, or who just have a je ne sais quoi. And if you see a movie or a concert or something that moves you, it’s not really natural to say to yourself, “That was done by a bunch of strangers that have nothing to do with me.” The fact that it resonates you indicates that they do have something to do with you. Is it possible to have a healthy celebrity culture, or is that a contradiction in terms?
As for Hitchens, I can’t help suspecting that he just objects to anyone being punished for drinking too much. 😉
A Thinking Reed 
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