Shared experience of celebrity brings with it new way of dying

Published on Saturday 26 November 2005 00:33

DEATH and celebrity are no strangers. Yet the passing of George Best seems to open a strange new chapter in the British way of dying.

We are already used to the last hours of church leaders and monarchs being chronicled in the television news bulletins, especially since the advent of 24-hour news programmes. When Pope John Paul II went into hospital in March and refused life-prolonging medication, his final few days were followed by a global audience of over one billion.

Yet popes and monarchs represent institutions. Their passing has political significance, whether or not they are greatly loved as was John Paul II. George Best, on the other hand, was a celebrity footballer, albeit of huge talent and popularity.

Yet even Tony Blair, the Prime Minister, felt impelled to break into his summit meeting of Commonwealth heads to issue a public tribute to Best: "One of the greatest footballers the UK has ever produced". Not quite up to the standard of "the People's Princess", but then Alastair Campbell has retired.

Of course, public interest in celebrity death is no new thing. When the silent movie star, Rudolph Valentino, died in 1926, the Daily Mirror filled the entire front page with a picture of him in his open coffin. A hysterical crowd of 100,000 people lined the streets of New York to pay their respects at his funeral. So successful was his last appearance that the body was taken to Hollywood for a second funeral.

However, Best's death was no publicity stunt. The real clue that something new is happening in our culture is the fact that no less than Best's liver transplant surgeon, Professor Roger Williams, issued a statement before the footballer's death announcing to the world that his patient "could die at any time over the next 24 hours". Do any of us expect our own doctor to invite the world to our deathbed? Prof Williams was in tears as he made his announcement and his words were authorised by Best's family. But in the moment that statement was read to the cameras, we, the audience, passed from solemn onlookers to engaged participants in the final act. It was a first.

The nearest incident to which this can be likened is the death of Princess Diana in 1997. Nobody expected the outburst of public mourning or the instant tradition of the flowers thrown in the road. The Diana effect declared a new relationship between celebrity and popular emotion.

There have always been celebrities, since the ancients took to visiting the grave of Alexander the Great. We live vicariously through heroes. But in modern times celebrities are even more important. Tradition and community are being replaced with globalisation, single parent families and internet dating. Into this void of shared human experience the media have obligingly poured imaginary friends, soap stars and tacky royals. Not to mention roguish footballers.

We have been to the weddings and divorce parties, usually through Hello! magazine. So it was only a matter of time before the final bastion of privacy was breached and we were invited to the deathbed itself.

Is this development a good thing? Like most folk, I had a soft spot for old George. But I have reservations about anyone's last hours being turned into a circus. I'd rather remember my heroes in their golden hour.