Sir Alan West, Britain’s new security minister, redefines Britishness for the 21st century:
“Britishness does not normally involve snitching or talking about someone,” he said in an interview with The Sunday Telegraph. “I’m afraid, in this situation, anyone who’s got any information should say something because the people we are talking about are trying to destroy our entire way of life.”
It will be interesting to see how a “start snitching” campaign*** cast in this light—i.e., yes we’re British, but this is war—goes over in Britain. While this is the same country whose population accepts the presence of millions of surveillance cameras for security and other law-enforcement purposes, West’s exhortation is yet another acknowledgment that Britain is on a war footing at home.
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*** I last wrote about snitching in mid-June.
The NYT’s Caryn James sees a trend in some recent celebrity media eruptions, and she thinks it has implications for all of us:
[T]he media spectacle surrounding the Hasselhoff video and Alec Baldwin’s leaked phone rant to his 11-year-old daughter have obscured some profound social issues. With their intensely personal moments made public, the celebrities represent oversize versions of the threats to privacy we all face at a time when the use of e-mail, camera-phones and other technologies has grown faster than common sense about them. If such betrayals can happen to stars, they can happen to us (with humiliation on a smaller scale).
I suppose this is true—any of us could be betrayed via the newfangled technology, but is this really something we should worry about? Also, James seems excessively concerned about the privacy of celebrities. Stars who pimp themselves shamelesslessly when they’ve got something to sell shouldn’t be surprised at the revenge of the tabloid culture when they’ve got something to hide. Live by publicity, die by publicity and all that. It’s just that they happen to be particularly easy targets as we find ourselves in the middle of a culture of meanness that is fueled by technology.
David Blum wrote a much more interesting analysis of the phenomenon a few weeks ago:
This is, without any doubt, the worst time in history to be famous — and it’s hard not to imagine Mr. Baldwin’s anguish in hearing his private words played, out of context, for millions to hear. As of this moment, all of the mistakes celebrities make, public or private, can find their way onto Web sites devoted to their humiliation. The technology now exists for millions to hear and see the embarrassing moments of public figures. …
These new technologies have provided a weapon to the enemies of a celebrity, and Mr. Baldwin seems to have many. … Audiences can’t be expected to compartmentalize their disgust …: We all now consider Mr. Baldwin a thoughtless brute.
The defense of such disclosures is that celebrities are protected by wealth from the downside of embarrassing revelations. [only from the economic downside, not from the social and personal downside of being exposed as a very angry guy --ed.] And it does seem unlikely that Mr. Baldwin’s career will substantially suffer from this episode. He remains a gifted actor with a successful network sitcom. The long-term price of his behavior will be minimal, even if the stigma stays. …
Blum is considerably less sympathetic than James toward celebrities, who are insulated from the worst thing that can happen (financial ruin). Digging a little deeper, Blum nails the real threat to everyday folks:
The problem lies with those who lack the power to protect themselves against the ravages of a 21st-century media onslaught, with its instantaneous, far-reaching effects. Eventually, someone’s career will be ruined, needlessly and unfairly, by a reckless Web site. Who arbitrates the limits of Internet exposure, or the level of celebrity required to justify it? As it gets easier for Web sites and reporters to pick apart the private behavior of our public figures, what greater public good is being served by these floggings? Meanwhile, we could all probably benefit from ratcheting up our fear of exposure, too — even the best behaved among us. The Internet is out there, and it’s an equal-opportunity destroyer.
Everything about daily public life is crude, vulgar, in your face, nasty, mean, taunting, and provocative. The Scent of Salem in the air is unmistakable. Conduct yourselves accordingly.
Apologies that this post is a couple of weeks late. It got lost among my drafts, but I still want to post it … because it’s still relevant.
Quirky, cranky humorist James Lileks has had his weekly column cut. He still has a job at the Minneapolis Star Tribune if he wants it: reporting local news. That’s the way it goes in the media and entertainment biz these days, of course.
Nancy Nall, having been there herself, has a lot of bilious but cathartic things to say about the Brave New Media World:
It is, with a few details changed, pretty much exactly what happened to me five years ago at a fading p.m. daily in far-less-glamorous Fort Wayne, Indiana. Perhaps I can offer the pint-size pundit some perspective.
Sometimes I feel like journalism’s coal-mine canary. All the stuff that started happening in 2002 at our paper, the stuff that had my friends at bigger papers saying, “Wow, that’s terrible. So far, knock wood, we here at the Major Metro Times-Bugle are OK” — that’s happening everywhere now. Even Lileks, if he could stop the furious cycle of his narcissism for five minutes, would have to agree that having a job as a full-time humor columnist at a large-circulation daily is a little like being Henry Ford’s buggy-whip polisher in 1905. I’m sure his vision is somewhat clouded, though, by his status as a right-wing web star; his allies’ gift for understatement (”newspaper suicide”) is already muddying the waters. They forget the Lileks they know, with his daily Bleat and radio appearances and one-joke books, is not the Lileks the Star-Tribune readers know, the writer who offers 250-word dispatches on his sniffles, his dessert choices and …oh, I seem to have reached my limit of free Star-Tribune stories for today, but you can do your own explorations here. To them, the effect of killing the Daily Quirk is the destruction of their boy’s meal ticket. He gets paid for the Quirk; the rest of the stuff he does free. If they like him so much, they need to get acquainted with that 20th-century concept of paying for content.
I haven’t followed up to see if Lileks got a new gig, or if he responded to Nall’s post.
Nothing is forever, and in some quarters, it’s just beginning to sink in.
