Privacy, the one thing money cannot buy
Just a few days ago, we were all shocked and saddened by the news that yet another idol of our youth had suddenly passed away.
by Fanny Bucheli
Heartfelt testimonies and comments such as “RIP Sweet Prince” and “My youth dies with you” flooded the Internet. Tributes were posted, printed, and played live the world over; everyone wore purple for a day. Sad, truly sad. And a bit of a déja-vu too, since the year has so far seen the arts world robbed of one great after the next.
It might be a coincidence, but it is noteworthy that some of the famously departed kept a very low profile and a tightly closed lid on their private life, especially the state of their health. We had not heard much about David Bowie for years, we knew he was happily married, so that wasn’t interesting. We knew he was a gifted painter and poet; besides being the musical idol of our youth, of course. No scandal there, ergo, not newsworthy. The biggest news of all however, his 18-month battle with cancer, remained a well-kept secret even from the usually so very well informed British tabloid press.
The same goes for Glenn Frey, Eagles guitarist and founding member, who managed to shield his 15-year struggle with Rheumatoid arthritis from the glam press’s Argus eye. Or Alan Rickman, best know for his roles in blockbuster films such as Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, Love Actually and of course as Professor Severus Snape in the Harry Potter movies. He too had been dealing with his illness in secret and had wished to keep it so.
Privacy and dignity in sickness and death seems to be a common denominator of the rich and famous just as much as it is for the mere mortals like us. Even if these celebrities enjoyed every minute in the limelight when everything was swell. Nevertheless, it would seem that a couple of days of dignity is all that they will be awarded once their death is announced. Once the worst heartbreak of the general public is done being poured out in tweets and posts, all bets are off. The gloves come off and the news channels, along with us, zoom in on the remains of these celebrities’ closely guarded private lives like vultures over a dead carcass in the desert.
Poor sweet Prince, he probably doesn’t RIP at all. Whatever condition he was suffering from, he obviously didn’t feel like sharing it with everybody and their uncle. An official autopsy report won’t be available for another month. Yet ‘sources’ know that “painkillers were found on his person and in his house”. Anybody who has ever experienced a good old migraine knows that this means nothing at all. “He overdosed,” other ‘sources’ know and readily share. Rumourmongers even know he had Aids. Should this turn out to be the case, there will be nothing wrong with spreading the truth, he was a public figure after all. It will be an issue, however, should these theories turn out to be nothing more than wild speculation. Because the truth will not matter if fiction makes for a juicier story. Because rumours stick to a story like superglue. Because we crave a good scandal even more than we mourn the idols of our youth. Because privacy is one thing money can’t buy, and decency is another.
Fanny Bucheli is an FMT columnist.
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