Dishing Dirt

American journalism owes a peculiar debt to Benjamin Harris, editor of North America's first multi-page newspaper, Publick Occurrences Both Forreign and Domestick (1690).

In his first (and, as it turned out, last) issue of Publick Occurrences, Harris reported on an array of scandalous topics, including the licentious behavior of the King of France.  Though colonial authorities, upset by these disclosures, quickly shut down the newspaper, they could not have recognized the importance of the moment.  In turning Louis XIV's bedroom tastes into "news," Harris had whetted readers' appetite for gossip.

It's an appetite that has produced a plethora of gossip columnists in American journalism--Walter Winchell, Hedda Hopper, and Dorothy Kilgallan in the early to mid twentieth century, Michael Musto, Perez Hilton, and Matt Drudge more recently.  Generations of journalists have made their living reporting on the sketchy behavior of film stars, television personalities, professional athletes, rock 'n roll gods and godesses, and even presidents and senators.  

In the digital age, the gossip industry has become pervasive.  Want to know about Justin Bieber's most recent bout with the paparazzi?  The escapades of the Kardashians, Nicki Minaj, Lindsay Lohan, or Snookie?  This star or that star's divorce, pregnancy, eating disorder, DWI, or rehab stint?  Log on at any hour and there will always be somebody to give you the dirt.

To be sure, not all celebrity news is vacuous.  When celebs adopt orphans from impoverished countries, raise money for storm victims, or encourage young people to be part of the political process, they make thoughtful and powerful humanitarian statements.  When they overcome personal obstacles and crises, they teach fans (and critics) valuable lessons about the ability to turn lives around. 

But such moments are often overshadowed by nonstop reports (articles, posts, tweets, etc.) of scandalous, witless, obnoxious, embarrassing, and even criminal actions.  Does all of this nonsense distract us from more important matters?   Does it trivialize people--both "stars" and their followers?  Does it give us the illusion of sophistication and knowledge?  Worst of all, does it tempt us to live vicariously through people who, in some cases anyway, aren't worth our time?