The tabloids are in a froth. Ariana Grande and Ethan Slater have parted ways after three years. But let us not pretend this is merely a matter of two celebrities calling it quits.
This is a symptom. A symptom of the rot that has set into the very fabric of our celebrity culture. We have seen this before: the fall of the Roman Empire was preceded by a decadent fascination with spectacle and the elevation of personalities over principles.
Now, we watch the implosion of a pop star and a Broadway actor, and we call it news. The UK entertainment industry, so eager to ape the American model of star worship, now faces a shift in power dynamics. But what power?
The power to distract us from a nation in decline? The power to sell magazines to a populace that should be reading Gibbon instead? Grande and Slater are merely the latest sacrifices on the altar of modern fame.
Their relationship, born on the set of a film adaptation of a musical, was always a commodity. And like all commodities, it had a shelf life. We are witnessing intellectual decadence masquerading as gossip.
The Victorians at least had the decency to be earnest in their follies. We, by contrast, revel in the trivial. This split is not a tragedy.
It is a mirror. And what it reflects is not pretty.
