If the hallmark of society is compassion and our ability to respect each other, then these are sour times. The other evening I had a brief chat with a friend about the tragic death of Caroline Flack. Normally a thoughtful and kind-hearted guy, his couldn’t-care-less attitude was jarring. Now I didn’t follow her on Instagram and seldom watch Love Island, which she hosted for several years. But the fact that someone so loved was in such distress that she would consider suicide her only option … it saddened me.
My friend’s response was blunt and indifferent. Here was someone who admitted he knew very little about Flack yet because she was one of those TV celebrities and a regular in red-top newspapers, she probably brought this on herself. In other words, by being a heavy user of social media (unlike him) and developing a public profile in the course of her job, she had opened herself to scrutiny of every aspect of her private life – from failed personal relationships to her financial situation.
Others on social media and in comments sections of sites such as Yahoo News were quick to show their lack of empathy. Some of the reactions were full of scorn, prompted by anything from her imminent assault trail to a pure disdain for celebrity culture. The prevailing thought: she brought this on herself. Or, she was guilty as charged and took the easy way out, the coward. So why pity her? In short, who cares? The most scathing comments were from men.
Is this where we are it? A readiness to ridicule, dismiss, insult or condemn a person who made a few mistakes and became increasingly vulnerable to the thoughts and taunts of strangers? The mounting level of shame she felt – both on a personal level and on behalf of family and friends – became unbearable as Flack explained in this unpublished post, released after her death.
"I've accepted shame and toxic opinions on my life for over 10 years and yet told myself it's all part of my job. No complaining,” she wrote. “The problem with brushing things under the carpet is .... they are still there and one day someone is going to lift that carpet up and all you are going to feel is shame and embarrassment.”
This Instagram post from 2019 reveals that Flack had been struggling for quite a while, adding that “being a burden is my biggest fear”. We can only wonder what else could or should have been done to offer her the necessary support and reassurance.
Referring specifically to the assault case, she was critical of the media, saying “the truth has been taken out of my hands and used as entertainment”. (Whether she was guilty or not is a separate issue to how we choose to talk about others and speculate on their life.)
Tortoise analysed 120 articles about Caroline Flack that appeared in three British tabloids, The Sun, The Mirror and The Daily Mail over six months, between September 2019 and her recent death. They reported: “The coverage breaks down into three distinct sections: pre-assault charge, where the tone is often gossipy and salacious; post-assault charge, after which it becomes both more serious, and vicious; and finally after her death, when the coverage becomes packed full of heartfelt tributes.”
A celebrity is not a story. As trivial and irrelevant as they may feel in your world, he/she is someone who may have similar everyday anxieties and struggles to others. Fame and fortune are not certain remedies. In fact, that is what helps to strengthen the bond between them and the public, if they choose to peel back the curtain. And that irritates onlookers, as if famous people relinquish the right to think, feel or comment on anything outside of their job.
TV celebrities like Flack are popular targets and quickly dismissed as attention seekers or vacuous. No patient reflection, no consideration of what it’s taken to get to primetime hour and the challenges along the way. Flack studied dance and musical theatre, worked her way up as a presenter over 17 years in a variety of slots and even had a successful stint on the West End in Chicago. A decent CV.
It’s common for people who hate reality TV shows to direct their anger at such individuals, as if they embody the worst of this world. But these public figures are memory markers in the lives of so many viewers. They got used to “seeing her in their living rooms every summer”, as Leah Green explained in the Guardian. “Through Instagram stories, we watched her on nights out, playing with her dog, singing at a piano and celebrating her 40th birthday.”
Celebrity can be so far detached from everyday life. It was Flack’s relatability and her flaws that endeared her to fans. She offered validation of their feelings – I know what you’re going through. If through this exchange others feel understood and are encouraged to open up then surely that is a good thing. It’s not only specialists or experts who can help us know ourselves better.
There has been a lot of finger-pointing in the wake of her suicide. Should there be legislation to curb relentless bullying by the press? More than 800,000 people think so. House of Commons Culture, Media and Sport select committee will be looking into the role of newspapers, says MP Jo Stevens. who called the aborted second stage of the Leveson inquiry a wasted opportunity to avert cases like this.
However, former Sunday Mirror editor Paul Connew has argued that most of the coverage was based on facts in the public domain or on social media. Instead, he shifts the blame to all those outspoken outlaws of the Wild West of the internet, where “people can be as abusive and cruel and wildly inaccurate as they like because they are hiding in nearly all cases behind anonymity”.
Is the public complicit in other ways, voraciously consuming and sharing celebrity gossip for example? Was the CPS right to pursue the case given her fragile mental state? (Flack took her own life soon after hearing that the case would go to trial.) Should ITV have stood by Flack and offered greater support particularly after the suicide of two contestants? And should social media companies do more to moderate networks and stamp out online abuse and harassment?
The answer to that final question is a resounding yes. Consider the huge advertising revenues collected in 2019 by big names such as Google ($134 billion including $15.1 billion from YouTube), Facebook ($67 billion) and Twitter ($887 million). They have the means, that’s for sure. We need people-led processes and systems though, swifter and more robust than Facebook’s laboured Christchurch response. As for fines, the Telegraph reports that penalties for Ofcom breaches could be in the region of 4% of global turnover. How much of a deterrent, or rather a spur to act, would that be?
The UK government has proposed giving Ofcom the necessary powers to compel internet companies to protect children and vulnerable members of society. They would be required to report on how they’re meeting their standards, what harmful content they’ve removed, publish an annual report and enforce age verification on certain websites. In addition, the government could be able to ask internet service providers (ISPs) to block websites or apps which commit “serious, repeated and egregious violations” of their duty of care.
This eConsultancy article focuses on the potential consequences of regulation for brands and those using influencer marketing – low-hanging fruit, in other words. But writer Will Francis does go on to ask, how can Ofcom police the entire internet? He stresses “the practical impossibility of regulating billions of pieces of content scattered around an ever-changing landscape of apps, websites and communities. Nice idea, but good luck Ofcom.”
So what’s the solution? “The only way we can tackle the issues raised in this story is through education,” says Francis. “Quality, timely, relevant education for parents, teachers and kids to foster a culture that has a healthy relationship with technology.”
Russell Brand, who has had his own struggles with mental health and the dark side of celebrity, made an impassioned plea on Instagram for everyone to re-evaluate their values and build better communities. Pursuing press regulation is admirable but ultimately futile. “If we want the world to change, for less people to die in pain and shame, then we should pause before we next vent a pleasurable stab of vindictive judgment or jeering condemnation.”
He is right. Flack’s case suggests a bigger issue in society. What we need is a collective effort to be a more positive influence on one another, and to check inappropriate behaviour – at home, in the office, on the street, even online. Comment with care and without malice, otherwise keep it to yourself. My cousin has the right idea. He posted this lovely note on his birthday. Yes, be more Vish.
