Okay, I’m releasing the curmudgeon in me, but please read on—my aim is true!
No one is that good!
Or so I proclaimed last fall while watching the slightly insane rise of Taylor Swift to international megastardom. Not that there was anything surprising or even unusual about this. She’s just the latest of many such anointments in my brief lifetime: Madonna, JKF, Nelson Mandela, Oprah. . . . add anyone else you can think of who seems float above Earth, adored or feared by us all.
No one is that good—or are they? I concur that Simone Biles is probably the best female gymnast to date. Here we can apply some objective criteria:
- Level of difficulty of her stunts
- Their frequency in any given routine
- The difficulty of her sequential combinations
- Her execution: height, precision of form, etc.
Similarly, we assess football quarterbacks by numbers like passes completed, and baseball batters by home runs. Baseball is notoriously obsessed with quantifying every player’s every move and generating piles of statistical records by which to rate them. So, to be more accurate, we have not the best player but the player “best at . . .” (pitching no-hit games, catching flyballs, hitting homers, etc.).
Other factors are not so easy to objectify: While Biles excels in sheer athleticism, I found her “number two” teammate, Sunisa Lee, more graceful. Business world giants (Warren Buffet, Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates) exhibit different skillsets: Buffet’s eye for opportunity, Bezos’ risk taking, Gates’ lucky start at the birth of software and his talent in building on early success. And then of course there’s outlier Elon Musk, whose unique mashup of clarity and delusion, vision and megalomania, profit generation and bankruptcy lands him in a category of his own, outside all normal markers of achievement.
To sort out what is good (or valuable, or true), the scientific world relies on the accuracy of controlled, double-blind studies, which:
- Identify objectifiable criteria
- Limit their scope to single cause-and-effect scenarios
- Account for potential “externalities,” variables that can throw off their results.
Outside the lab and away from the blackboard, most real-world ratings lack such precision. Leading up to the 2024 presidential election, I got curious about the value of polls. A bit of research led me to experts who could identify the hidden assumptions and fatal blind spots of pollsters and interpreters alike.
So why, given how impossible it is to identify the good, the better, and the truly extraordinary in any realm, are we so eager to catapult certain individuals to the stratosphere?
Before we get to why, some thoughts on how this happens in the first place:
- An individual is thrust into the limelight via connections, timing, context, good looks, charisma, or sheer willpower. The Kardashians and Jenners rose through combinations of these.
- That person is able to sustain and leverage that attention (Mick Jagger, Madonna).
3. Or the opposite—they can’t keep all balls in the air and get lionized for spectacular, often early flameouts. Troubled lives lead them to crash and burn (Marilyn Monroe, Jimmy Hendricks, Michel Basquiat), and we worship them all the more for it.
4. They possess genuine intelligence, character, talent, or skill (Abraham Lincoln, Albert Einstein, The Beatles).
But I would argue that the whole megastar phenomenon is less about them and more about us. After all, it’s we who choose to elevate them. At play are three tiers of “fans” behind each luminary:
- Early adopters: those whose antennae are tuned for the next great. Often industry insiders or experts, they are often right when they see “something there.” Of course, they can also be wrong: Remember how we worshipped Aung San Suu Kyi . . . until she turned tool of the military regime? Even those with the highest moral standards can fall from grace and land in the mud with the rest of us.
- Second-tier followers: folks who, while somewhat discerning, function primarily as gateways to mass attention. While I grant them 50/50 odds of choosing truly worthy talent, they are basically foghorns. Formerly known as “trendsetters,” they are today’s “influencers.”
- Sheep: aided by social-media exposure (in the past, by cocktail parties, watercooler chatter, golf games, and bridge clubs), these people glom onto whatever their contacts are propagating. Perhaps they trust their peers implicitly, but I suspect they simply value belonging over standing out (more on that below). And sadly, that is most of us, in most arenas. I trust my own judgment of literary and artistic talent, having received rigorous training in both disciplines, but I’m far too willing to let others decide that Starbucks coffee is truly, uniquely superior or that Tom Brady deserves adoration.
Why do I care? The effects of the superstar phenomenon range from relatively harmless to downright dangerous. Most people won’t be gravely affected when consumer demand spikes for a product and availability plummets. The insane cost of Taylor Swift tickets and the rush to buy latest Iphone reveal an unequal playing field (who can afford them, who has the information, time, and technology to access them) but probably no truly dire consequences.
On the other hand, the global pressure to endorse the latest person or thing is subtle yet profound. Once in motion, anyone who objects can easily be dismissed as a crank, a contrarian, or even a pariah. I found the Barbie movie so appallingly bad that I went back to friends who had “loved” it and asked them why. Most admitted that it wasn’t that great, but that they saw it with enthusiastic friends and/or just got swept up in the general mania of the “Barbenheimer” moment—a post-pandemic, slow summer news spell when everyone seemed in search of a benign uplift (or just a harmless distraction).
In other cases, aligning with mass fandom can pose real threats. The dark underbelly of conformity is that it requires us to stop thinking independently—in fact, to stop thinking, period. We accept what we hear; we accept what we are told.
Why does this bother me? For two reasons:
- Individual preferences (our unique, inexplicable likes and dislikes) matter. I’m often perplexed, even irritated, when lots of people adore something I just don’t (Jeff Koons’ art, Hello Kitty merch, Bollywood, 70s disco).
Yet I do believe it’s healthy and important that we do like different things. Variety challenges us, reminds us we are not the center of universe nor its arbiters. I wouldn’t actually want to live in a world of Loises, surrounded only by things Lois likes. Besides, “There’s no explaining taste.” No defending taste. No right or wrong: you can’t tell someone to like brussels sprouts or free diving or ice dancing or rugby. They just do, or they don’t, and the world is a better place for it (IMHO!).
- Individual convictions, which are different from preferences, matter even more. Convictions reflect our judgments, based on our values, our ethics. Many yoga teachers advise “nonjudgment,” but we practice this at our peril. In this material world, not everything is equal. Some things are better than others—more fair (trial by jury vs dictatorships; equal rights), more inclusive (Quantum physics vs Einstein vs Newton), closer to the “truth” (contemporary understanding of diseases from polio and smallpox to cancer and AIDS).
Articulating and standing up for our convictions is crucial. Otherwise, populism devolves into fascism, consensus into groupthink—or no thought at all. Going along with what others do, accepting without questioning, assuming that because “everyone else” is doing it, it must be okay, leads to what Hannah Arendt aptly labeled the “banality of evil.” Eichmann did not initiate the Holocaust, but he became a skillful colluder. If no one stands up to power, to blind conformity, things can go off the rails really quickly. Think witch hunts (historic and contemporary), racism, xenophobia, genocide.
Our era suffers from groupthink at both ends of the political spectrum. On the left, “political correctness” spawned DEI which broadened into “identity politics.” On the right, fear mongering and disregard of the facts generated a MAGA movement nosing alarmingly close to totalitarianism. It’s rare to uncover the reality under either agenda, and I appreciate those who try. The Princeton Alumni Weekly recently interviewed three “experts” on the effectiveness of DEI measures. One said they proved fruitful; another said they had no effect; a third said we just can’t tell. I can live with that. It’s just proof to me of the limits of all human understanding. And a reminder that even the most “objective” experts are probably swayed by personal values. In literary studies it’s called the hermeneutic circle: We find what we go looking for.
Groupthink thrives on the power of our desire to belong, to find allies and fellow travelers. The social instinct is deeply human, but when does belonging require us to self-censor among our intimates, even within ourselves? I’ve had numerous conversations this year with friends who broached some controversial topic with guarded, hesitant language. I could sense them feeling out my tolerance for a frank discussion of opinions that might be seen as unenlightened. I did my best to dismantle such framing as quickly as possible so that we could speak freely—then wondered later why this was even necessary among “trusted” friends. If you’re troubled by this phenomenon, I highly recommend Yascha Mounk’s book The Identity Trap.
If I can’t discuss, debate, and get into the weeds with friends, family, intimates, students, teachers, and community, explore nuances, map out our non-negotiables, accept where we don’t agree, then there’s no hope of freedom of expression on the macro level. In fact, without self-examination and contact with other, sometimes opposing views, we may not even know what we believe, or why we believe it. My college classmate Saul Perlmutter’s book Third Millennium Thinking offers a roadmap to discovering our own sometimes hidden values and understanding those of others.
Not myself immune to peer pressure, especially when absorbing input from trusted media, I sometimes find myself nodding to a checklist of beliefs. Then the occasional thought breaks through: “Hey, wait a minute! Please repeat that. I need to reconsider whether I’m on board with C just because I subscribe to A and B.” My dad was always great at destabilizing my beliefs. When I pointed to rising sea levels as proof of manmade climate change, he pointed out that the areas flooded during Superstorm Sandy were all manmade landfill—floodplains we chose to develop. Moreover, he pointed out that while sea levels will rise with ocean temperatures, the continents are also sinking. Both are true. While he didn’t change my mind about man’s impact on the natural world, he allowed (well, forced!) me to consider the multiple causes behind my “evidence.”
As always, when in doubt, I ask yoga for help. And it rarely disappoints! Here are a few ways yoga can help diminish the power of mass persuasion:
1. Yoga practice relies on observation. In asanapractice we confront the body: its reality, its abilities, and its limitations. In meditation we explore the mind: its reach, its limits, its monotomy, and its tenacious hold on certain thoughts, beliefs, emotions, and attitudes.
2. Introspection (svadhyaya), with or without help of formal teachings and spiritual texts, similarly allows us to question our beliefs and the “reality” upon which we base them.
3. Yoga’s notion of the “little self” as opposed to the universal “Self” teaches humility. Accepting that we are not nothing, but not everything, puts both our preferences and our convictions in perspective. We become “right sized.”
4. The simple act of putting life on “pause” while we practice gives us time to reflect before we respond or re-act to provocations.
The 2024 presidential election results lay ahead as I wrote this. In fact, that’s partly why I was moved to write this. But I acknowledge it’s really hard to see clearly when gripped by fear or anger (which Buddhism says are flipsides of the same coin). Panic, shutdown, frenzy, handwringing, trying to convince others—fight, flight, or freeze—are futile. Adrenal reactions doom us to make short-term decisions with long-term fallouts.
I suggest instead these time-tested yogic tools:
- Observe your mind and heart: on the mat, on the meditation cushion, on a beach walk or subway ride. Anyplace where you’re not tempted to act on impulse.
- Question what you discover, both your “facts” and your beliefs.
- Put things in perspective: see yourself as one individual in vast space and in the grand sweep of time. Become right sized. Even when there’s clearly a lot at stake, experience shows us that Armageddon is not likely to strike tomorrow.
- Pause, and consider: What, if anything, is to be done? And before you set things in motion, apply the golden rule: How would you want to be treated? Can you behave the way you would like others to behave?
I hope these questions allow you to calm down enough to think clearly and sort out what truly matters. Just don’t expect permanent relief. To doubt is human. To be afraid is human. To lash out is human. As a wise friend repeatedly points out, “You’re just another little human!”