I told my kids they should not be a “fan” of anyone. And, yes, I meant it.
This might seem harsh to some, or perhaps unrealistic. But I stand by it.
There is a difference, to me, between enjoying an artist’s work or appreciating their talent and being a “fan.” The word fan, of course, derives from fanatic. And even though there are those who would argue that its use today indicates nothing more than simple admiration or support, I think it’s clear that there’s more to it than that. Some “fans” may not be fanatically supportive of an artist, but nonetheless it does indicate a loyalty – a devotion that is not reciprocated by the artist, of course, who neither knows nor cares who they fuck they are.
That type of relationship is, to me, not a healthy one. It implies idolatry and an implicit belief that the famous person is somehow elevated or superior – not for their talent or abilities – but mainly for the fact that they are famous. If you want your kids to be leaders and not followers, why would you want them to be a “fan” of any actor, musician, or writer? Isn’t it enough to admire their work and leave it at that? Why show love to someone who does not love you in return?
This is summed up in A Bronx Tale, of course, when Sonny, played by Chazz Palminteri, remarks that if Mickey Mantle doesn’t pay Calogero’s rent, why should Calogero care about Mickey Mantle?
Sure, you’re saying. And while you’re at it, how about ruining Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy too? Why not get rid of all of your kids’ heroes?
But I’m not saying that, actually. In fact, I think it’s quite all right for kids to have heroes and even to believe in some things that aren’t true. They’re kids, after all. But I want my kids to have the right heroes and for their mental budgeting (so to speak) to be better directed.
We’ve become a fame and celebrity-obsessed society, and it’s a problem. As I noted in a recent Newsweek article, many kids value celebrity beyond any realm of the reasonable, wanting to be famous just to be famous, rather than to actually accomplish anything. The esteem that was once reserved for astronauts or scientists like Jonas Salk is essentially gone, replaced by the number of video hits or likes a person yearns to get in their life, even if it really means being more infamous than famous – to them, notoriety is better than no identity.
Just as important as this concern, being a “fan” damages our objectivity and ability to gauge the quality of work. I just finished, for instance, watching Killers of the Flower Moon. It was about an immensely important topic (our mistreatment of native peoples), had some absolutely great acting, was directed by a superbly talented director in Martin Scorsese, received rave reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, and was a truly bad film. This seems fairly obvious to me: the story did not build up well, it took way too long to introduce the FBI angle, the characters were largely uninteresting, many things lacked proper context, and the movie should’ve easily had about 40% of it edited out. My wife couldn’t even get through it and I had to watch the last (seemingly interminable) 45-minutes on my own. They did not compensate for the previous two hours and forty-five minutes, and overall the movie did not deliver on any level.
Why, then, has this movie received such heavy praise? In my view, fandom has a lot to do with it. When I see a new film made by Scorsese, I’m much more inclined to watch that film because I’ve liked so many of the films he’s made in the past. I also like Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio. But here’s the thing: I’m a fan of none of them. I don’t have any emotional investment. I can judge their works objectively because I don’t care about any of them more than I would any other human being.
One study showed how this works, and it’s revealing. The researchers found that just priming people by telling them that a performance was done by “a world-famous pianist” made them rate the performance significantly higher. But here’s the rub: the researchers polled twenty participants and played some student performances and some professional ones – but when they played the student performances, they told them it was the professionals and vice versa. Guess what happened? No shock, they rated the “professional” performances (really done by students) higher. Now think what happens when someone who is a “fan” of a musician and “loves” all their songs hears the latest one they’ve produced: in short, their ability to judge is severely impaired. Our lack of objectivity wrongfully leads us to believe that everything an artist we’re a fan of produces is great, amazing, beautiful, and an example of extraordinary talent, even though it’s not about 95% of the time.
Yet my argument goes beyond this. Even when you do think an artist is incredibly talented, liking or admiration should take place, but not fandom, that unhealthy emotion.
As a kid, I liked Billy Joel. Still do, in fact: I think he’s the greatest musician who ever lived and that includes Beethoven and Mozart. Yet I couldn’t tell you his kids’ names and I don’t care. And if he sat next to me on the subway, I really wouldn’t give a shit. That’s not to say that it might not be interesting to have a conversation with him about his creative process, but it would be one between two human beings interested in the arts, not one between an artist and his worshipper.
In fact, I believe that much of this problem really comes down to worship – deification, if you will. This is something that has existed for thousands of years, of course. The ancient Greeks treated great athletes as if they were somehow divinely blessed and Roman emperors often sought to connect themselves with their panoply of gods. We’ve done something similar with celebrities, with the misguided notion that they are somehow more than human and that their existence during our existence makes us special. We’d like to believe that we’re “living in unique times” and that we’re “witnessing history.” And so the people that spend $2,000 to go to a Taylor Swift concert don’t view it as a complete waste of money but convince themselves that they had a grand, magical experience that they wouldn’t have gotten listening to her music at home for free.
Fandom also impacts our politics in a serious way. You can certainly say I’m no fan of Donald Dump. I recognize that he’s a low-life sleazy psychopath who would let the whole country burn if it earned him an extra dame or dollar. Yet he has a tremendous fan-base. Biden, on the other hand, tends to get support not from fans, but from those among us who aren’t blind followers but hopeful reasoners. Trump supporters, on the other hand, are often hopeless devotees – in other words, fans. While Biden doesn’t have any need to be deified, Trump is posting videos of him being compared by his fans to Christ (another guy with too many unquestioning fans). They believe Trump – and believe in him – because he is the leader of their team, and they’re fans of that team – so fuck the liberals!
Now, some will argue, I’m sure, that there are also great benefits to being a fan – that it leads to things like community, camaraderie, escapism, et cetera. Yet, when you really think about it, these things can easily be engaged in without the need for fanaticism or idolatry. If you’ve reached the point wherein you think you might faint if Taylor Swift or Billy Joel walks into the room, then it’s time to recognize that you’ve taken things too far.
Fandom is also bad for the arts overall, really. It causes a handful of people – and often those who really have been packaged and have little or no actual talent – to suck up all the oxygen, leaving more talented artists out. The bandwagon effect causes everyone to praise to the heavens talentless people while ignoring those with true ability. The logic here goes something like this: this person is so incredibly popular, there must be something to it. They must be great!
But they’re not. It’s just stupid humans at work.
We should draw a line in our lives.
Recently, my in-laws bought our kids Taylor Swift coloring books. I told them that was a no-go. They can like Taylor Swift’s music, but they can’t be fans. I also tell my kids that, while I’ll love them no matter what career they choose, I expect them to study the sciences and arts and literature and to look to be doctors, scientists, or engineers. If they’re to achieve fame, I’d prefer it be for fighting cancer or bringing about peace or writing a classic novel. And so that’s what I’ll have them concentrate on. Let the other kids hero-worship rock stars and concentrate on being famous. I want my kids to be more than that. And because I’m a genuinely devoted father and fan of theirs, I don’t want them being a follower – or “fan” – of anybody but each other.