Today, increasingly, achievement itself seems to have become secondary to fame. There was a time when fame was expected to be the consequence of achievement. We live in an age in which visibility is mistaken for distinction, publicity for accomplishment, and notoriety for fame, irrespective of whether there is enduring talent behind it.
Because this generates readership, serious newspapers devote increasing space to celebrity culture. Because the media highlights it, and the media highlights celebrityhood because the public consumes it, the result is a vicious circle: the public consumes celebrityhood. Because our civilisation has traditionally possessed a sophisticated understanding of excellence, this distinction is especially important in India.
Film stars and cricketers are perhaps the most obvious beneficiaries of this culture. One successful film can transform an unknown actor into the ‘next superstar’. One spectacular innings can produce extravagant comparisons with the greatest cricketers of the past. Conversely, one failure can cause the same public to declare that the hero is zero. The speed with which reputations are created and destroyed is itself revealing. Greatness, by definition, requires duration. Celebrity requires only attention. The same appetite operates in other fields. A writer produces one successful English-language book, and suddenly becomes an ‘important voice’. A poet or writer, writing in some of our own great languages, whose work has taken decades to mature, may remain known only to a small circle. An artist may labour for years before finding recognition, while someone who generates controversy around one work may receive much greater publicity. In politics too, the spectacular gesture, the clever soundbite and the ability to dominate television panels can sometimes matter more than legislative competence, administrative integrity or intellectual depth. Yet many of these institutions themselves have become vulnerable to the logic of publicity. Awards can become occasions for lobbying and controversy. Cultural institutions can become politicised. Literary criticism has diminished in influence. A mature culture must be able to celebrate a film star and simultaneously honour a talented writer whose work may be restricted to a smaller audience. It must applaud a cricketer’s extraordinary achievement without forgetting the scientist whose discovery may transform millions of lives without ever becoming a television headline. It must enjoy popular music without allowing popularity to become the sole criterion of musical merit. Above all, it must preserve the capacity to distinguish between what entertains us and what enlightens us. The Sanskrit concept of kala, the classical traditions of music and dance, the literary cultures of different Indian languages, and the guru-shishya traditions all placed a premium on sadhana—disciplined, sustained practice. Mastery was not expected to arrive overnight. It was earned.
The appetite for celebrities satisfies something deep in contemporary society. In a world of complexity, insecurity and rapid change, personalities are easier to consume than ideas. A complex novel requires attention; a viral clip requires seconds. A serious cricketing career requires sustained excellence; one sensational performance can be converted into a spectacular narrative. A political reform may take years to produce results; a dramatic statement can dominate television immediately.
