It’s not about Jian Ghomeshi; it’s more about us.
Chris Brown, War Machine, Ray Rice, and now, the most recent addition to such a disgraceful list, Jian Ghomeshi. It seems somewhat horrifying to acknowledge the increasing number of celebrity scandals involving physical abuse that have taken the spotlight within the past several months. What is it about these stories that seem to draw our attention like moths to a flame? Is it the outrage we feel about the offensive acts in question, or is it more accurate to say that we form a certain perverse curiosity about the high-profile individuals involved? The aftermath from the recent revelations surrounding Ghomeshi seems to paint an image of our celebrity-obsessed culture that speaks to our ability taking call to action on such heinous behaviour, despite its long-standing proliferation amongst the less notable ranks of our society. There is something to be said about the fact that while thousands of faceless and unknown women face abuse every day, it is only when the face becomes one that is familiar to us that we feel the fire beneath us to get up off the couch and take notice. What truly shocked us more, the fact that Nicole Brown Simpson was so brutally murdered, or that it was O.J. Simpson who stood accused? So, I ask: what is it about the celebrity status that motivates us to speak up and demand justice where we might otherwise be indifferent?
In looking at the Ghomeshi fiasco that currently has hold of our attention, it seems that by focusing our appall and dismay on the fact that Ghomeshi has found himself facing such deeply troubling allegations, we somewhat miss the bigger picture to be seen. We find ourselves conflating our feelings of outrage toward Ghomeshi’s alleged behaviour with a concern toward the issue of sexual assault against women, and although a genuine concern for this abuse exists, it arguably takes a backseat to the larger spectacle that overshadows the conversation on the subject. Our reaction to these stories is more telling about ourselves and our culture than the absurd narratives contained within. Lines get drawn in the sand, and positions are taken that derive from a misplaced sense of loyalty to these individuals who are fundamentally strangers to our lives, and yet it seems as natural a reaction as to pull one’s hand from the flame when burned.
I would suggest that our reaction to these stories does not entirely stem from a horror toward the acts of abuse themselves, but rather our anger and disappointment by the way our trust in these celebrities has been broken as a result. There is an unjustified intimacy that is present in the nature of celebrity culture in our society. Fans develop intermediated relationships with celebrities through media sources such as television, the internet, and newspapers which create a feeling of familiarity with these individuals we might expect to have with our closest friends. We feel that by opening ourselves to and inviting these personalities into our lives, we have somehow created a stake in theirs that justifies either our adoration or condemnation of their personal behaviour. When the actions of these celebrities fail to meet our imagined expectations of who they are, the façade we have built in our own mind begins its inevitable collapse, and it becomes unsettling to suddenly be faced with the reality of who they really are. Unlike celebrities, we don’t feel intimately involved in the lives of others associated with abuse, and it becomes easy to detach ourselves in order to continue in our lives without being affected.
Another explanation could lie in the fact that the phenomena of celebrity culture forms a bond that unites us all through this common connection. I may not know your Uncle Bob who is in trouble, but we are both familiar with the racist antics of our crazy Uncle Mel. What separates our criticism between the abuse that occurs around us daily and that which is sporadically splashed across the screens of websites and the pages of newspapers is that we don’t have a personal connection to abuse in the abstract. We are largely unfamiliar with the individuals who comprise the victims of abuse that surround us in our daily lives. We use celebrities to put a face on something that otherwise seems distant and unconnected to us. However, in doing so, we create a stimulus that engages us in these profound social issues that might otherwise not receive the attention they deserve. Without a genuine understanding of these experiences, it becomes difficult to engage in a discourse on finding solutions to the problem of abuse in our society. Using celebrities as a proxy in this way helps us to feel more personally connected to efforts in preventing the continuation of such intolerable behaviour.
In a sense, it also comes down to an issue of power. Our willingness to be captured by these stories is informed by the influence these celebrities have upon us. On each side of the table, both as victim and abuser, celebrities hold a power that no one else has to speak out on these issues. The mother of three living next door may face abuse every single day, but she has nothing like the voice Ghomeshi has in a single Facebook post. This power imbalance can be seen as both a blessing and a burden. Speaking as a victim of abuse myself, I can honestly say that my perspective on this situation is at odds within me. On the one hand, I recognize and appreciate that any form of attention that brings us together in such a way as to encourage healthy and constructive debate on the matter is to be welcomed. Though, I also can’t help but feel infuriated by witnessing the differential treatment between those victims who live within the world of celebrity and the rest of us who lie outside that privilege. Having experienced first-hand both the social and systemic barriers that victims face when bringing allegations of abuse to light, I can say that it feels like an insurmountable journey for those who do not have the support of an entire army of Toronto Star staff writers or hundreds of thousands of Twitter followers behind them. I’m certainly not suggesting that these victims should not be receiving the enormous amount of support they do; rather, what I’m saying is that it shouldn’t mean that anyone else deserves less. What results from this inequality is that we are left with a system that offers protection to some, but not others. Those who are advantaged to have access to the power that demands attention find recourse where others do not and fall into the shadows of the forgotten. The answer to the question of who receives our moral indignation on this matter shouldn’t rest with the social status of those involved. The issue of abuse is a serious concern that deserves our attention without need for the added spectacle arising from these celebrity scandals. If we intend to take an earnest approach to resolving the problem of abuse, then we ought to begin by recognizing it as it occurs at all levels of our society.