Wednesday, March 11, 2009

The desperate show of death

Zygmunt Bauman has defined London as the "dustbin" of globalisation. Never like now could I agree more with him.

As if the circus of Big Brother was not sad enough, now that one of the stars of its latest editions is dying from cancer, a freakish voyeurism seems obsessing the majority of UK population.

From radio and TV shows to the main national tabloids and newspapers, the odyssey of 27-year-old Jade has become everybody's business.

This young woman was diagnosed cancer and the results of the biopsy were immediately of public domain as her UK doctor chose to let her know in the middle of a chat from the Diary Room of the Indian version of Big Brother. As for the share market, the choice couldn't be wiser.

Since she, and everybody in this country, learnt she had cancer, the marathon of common places has started. She is obviously shocked and desperately clings to every little piece of life she has left, but the sleazy pleasure that mediocre people are drawing from witnessing every moment of this girl's death, is degrading and offensive.

What kind of society makes a show out of someone's ultimate suffering? What kind of business enjoys cashing in from someone's death?

Apparently, the arguments, fights and gossip of the Big Brother were not enough entertaining anymore, the public wants more, wants to overcome all taboos, seize the most intimate moment of someone's life.

Nothing is left to intimacy, secret, mystery. Every aspect of life has become a potential subject for circus where the main characters are not tigers anymore but ordinary people.

The lame excuse of entertaining the public hides the constant and ruthless search of profit, where nothing but money has value, and where the limit between public and private is always more elusive.

This is only the latest example of how pathetically poor we are becoming, losing even that small bit of humanity we thought we had left.

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