Diana changed the monarchy and the British attitude toward grief. The stiff upper lip is quivering now; the old stoic reserve under assault. The question is whether the fallout from this event might also change the mirror we hold up to the world. Are we focusing properly? Are our values aligned? Will we call ourselves to account for both selling and buying news that is at once cruel and mindless? Or will this turn out to be just another heartfelt but overblown moment–only a dim memory by the time of the next big celebrity crackup? Beyond the need to wear seat belts, here are four possible legacies to look for:
The Oprah Dynasty: It’s no overstatement to say that Diana’s death may change the ancient relationship in England between public and private life. The queen’s speech was more than just an effort to show the British people that she cared. The royal readjustment symbolized the triumph of a new, 21st-century style of public discourse.
Think of it this way: they held an election for sovereign of the world, and the winner was Oprah Winfrey. The ruling dogma at the end of the century is not unbridled capitalism, at least not on the surface. And it’s certainly not socialism. Instead, it’s what Richard Sennett in ““The Fall of Public Man’’ calls ““an ideology of intimacy,’’ in which people ““seek to find personal meaning in impersonal situations.’’ The confessional, therapeutic, sensitive tone that Bill Clinton helped bring to American politics was transplanted last year to Great Britain, where Tony Blair was elected with a similar gestalt. Now, on advice from Blair, the House of Windsor has bowed to it. The people wanted to see royal tears on television–and they did.
Some skeptics are asking why this is such a big story. Here’s why: in the 19th century, the British monarchy lost its political power. Now, at the end of the 20th, it has all but lost its remaining social authority. For centuries, monarchs were role models for how the people should aspire to behave publicly, even when the royals themselves behaved badly in their private lives. In the wake of Diana’s death, the British people, asserting their democratic prerogatives, insisted that the royal family act as their subjects, sharing the people’s emotions.
The public seemed to be saying: if the grief isn’t expressed in our realm–in public–it isn’t legitimate. That emotional demand, while reasonable symbolically under the circumstances, threatened the legitimacy of the throne itself. The monarchy will be saved–for the boys–but it shook to its foundations last week, rocked by a talk-show culture gone global.
In a fortnight of ironies, the greatest is that a princess who went to her death protecting her privacy has, perhaps inadvertently, left a legacy that all but obliterates the distinction between public and private behavior. The message from the larger society is meant to be warm, but it carries a chill: if you haven’t told others how you feel, you really haven’t felt it at all.
And yet public ambivalence remains, mirroring Diana’s own dual-edged relationship with her own renown. For generations, the people have sought to peer over the high castle walls, hoping to see their own reflection in the eyes of royalty. Finally, with telephoto lenses and lingua Oprah, they have the technology and access to do so. But they are attracted and repelled at once, as if passing the scene of a traffic accident.
New Standards of Fame: It’s not fair to hold Diana up against Mother Teresa; only a selfless few anywhere on earth could stand the comparison. As for the comparative news coverage, sudden death at 36 is quite rightly viewed as bigger ““news’’ than slow death at 87.
Even so, the death of Mother Teresa brought the excesses of the Diana coverage into bold relief. The historian Daniel Boorstin memorably described celebrities as people who become famous for being famous. Acclaim is an ancient idea; what’s newer is the disconnection between fame and achievement. Diana is now the first woman to join a tiny group of 20th-century megastars in the English-speaking world: Charles Lindbergh, Babe Ruth, Winston Churchill, Muhammad Ali, JFK, Elvis Presley, Michael Jordan, to name most of the list. Her astonishing human touch puts her in their league; her accomplishments do not. In the new global marketplace of fame, popularity has become its own art form.
A Sense of Shame: At first glance, Diana’s death will do little to ease what she called ““face rape,’’ the assault of intrusive photographers. The same people who are ranting about ““the paparazzi’’ will be the first to buy all of the special issues about Diana–full of pictures taken in years past by paparazzi. One of the most moving and beloved TV images of the week–Diana giving her sons a bear hug on returning from a trip–was blurry and apparently taken from a distance. After a year or so of lying low, the skeptical logic goes, the paparazzi will begin hunting William and Harry. And after an interval of posturing and table-thumping, politicians in Great Britain and the United States aren’t likely to change the law. Even Tony Blair says he favors voluntary efforts.
Yet permanent change in the tabloid world is entirely possible, and not just because the privacy and trespassing laws on the books will be much more strictly enforced. The public, galvanized by Earl Spencer’s extraordinary eulogy, now sees the paparazzi as enduring villains, and may soon add proprietors like Rupert Murdoch to the list. In a business as market-driven as tabloid journalism, that will inevitably bring adjustments, especially in the United States, where photographers are already more respectful (relatively speaking) than in Europe. Any picture stigmatized as ““intrusive’’ will quickly cause a public controversy. Cynics say this will boost sales, but tabloid owners will be careful about testing that theory. Diana was the golden goose; the only one who consistently moved the merchandise. Without her, their sales will be down anyway. Why risk lowering them even more?
For the more responsible press, which has feasted for years on the tabloids without thinking about it, the change is likely to be significant. While tabloids can’t be shamed, these magazines–including NEWSWEEK–are open to moral suasion. Last week saw concern within the news business over the scapegoating of paparazzi, but also genuine reflection over where we’ve gone too far. Journalists agreed that none of us would appreciate having our own privacy invaded with a phony charge or our children photographed without our permission.
The most likely result is that some paparazzi will buck the public mood and photojournalists will continue to see anything on public streets as fair game. But they will shoot from a greater distance, thanks in part to more involvement by police and vigilant passersby. And it may become unacceptable for mainstream news organizations to run video or photos of the children of celebrities without at least the tacit approval of their parents.
But the shame has limits. Celebrities like Madonna who exploit the media to propel their careers cannot expect to have the relationship work entirely on their terms. The fine print of fame still applies.
Mother Diana: As Earl Spencer said in Westminster Abbey, it is not right to sanctify Diana. Too many of us already revere celebrities instead of God and family. This idolatry began when people left the countryside for impersonal cities, where gossip about public figures replaced back-fence chatter. They sought transcendence through the screen.
But the sad quality of so much celebrity obsession shouldn’t prevent Diana from leaving a significant spiritual legacy. The synchronicity of her death and Mother Teresa’s helps. The timing means that the more frivolous, superficial parts of Diana’s life will fade some in favor of the humanitarian dimension.
How many of Diana’s devotees have taken their children to visit the homeless? How many actually talk to the poor and disenfranchised? That impulse–in fact, a social conscience in general–has been out of fashion for at least a quarter century. We give to the poor, but we don’t engage them and love them as these two women did. By burying a secular saint and a real one in the same week, maybe we will plant some seeds of commitment. Kennedy’s death in 1963 soured the United States, threw it off stride. But he also inspired thousands of people to devote at least some of their lives of service. Perhaps Diana can do the same. For those who did not know her personally, that is the only form of reverence with any lasting meaning.
How well the law shields your privacy often depends on who you are and where you are:
Britain: No privacy laws exist, but photographers may be sued for harassment or trespassing in private or public places.
France: Even presidents and monarchs can sue over photos taken in a private place without consent. A person’s private domain is vast, extending to cars and even public areas.
Italy: Civil courts have ruled that photos taken outdoors, even of people standing on the deck of their private boat, are allowed.
United States: Taking photos of someone standing on a balcony, plainly visible from a public sidewalk, is permissible. Using a telephoto lens and a ladder to photograph someone in his backyard may be a violation of that person’s privacy.
