How power, proximity and blind admiration turn ordinary people into silent enablers of moral collapse.
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How power, proximity and blind admiration turn ordinary people into silent enablers of moral collapse
Monalisa Changkija
We will hear more of Jeffrey Epstein murky trails in the days to come, and numerous stories could emanate from the ‘main’ story, confusing us as to what actually is the main story. So far, he has reportedly been a paedophile and financier, had access to and influence over the rich, the powerful and the famous, and his (in)famous parties were littered with teenagers. From the accounts that are now emerging, however redacted, it is obvious that the man had a kind of magnetism and a glib tongue that made rich, powerful and famous men and women gravitate towards him. History is replete with such characters, and their victims either lived to regret or died regretting the association. However, some don’t seem to have any regrets. Former Prince Andrew comes to mind?
So many names, photos and videos, especially in politics, are emerging, and many more could possibly be added to the list. This is another Hollywood-type scandal that would inspire books, movies and TV serials, and provide much fodder to comedians, exclusives to television channels, newspapers, magazines, podcasters and YouTubers. But there is nothing new about men like Epstein, who have littered the political, economic, social and cultural history of humankind. That people of every age and every era have fallen prey to such individuals remains a mystery.
So, what is so irresistible and illusory about power, wealth, fame and a glib tongue that draws people towards them like flies to honey? Doesn’t this fascination speak more of human nature than of actual power, wealth and a glib tongue? Doesn’t it speak of how people perceive and understand power, wealth, fame and a glib tongue, and how they can benefit from being close to them? This perception and understanding is a recurrent theme of human history but remains under-focused, which is also a mystery. From the time of ancient civilisations, kings, emperors and princes were the epicentres of power, wealth, fame and beauty, and people have fawned over them. Today, epicentres have other names, but human nature has remained constant.
Somehow, we seem to attribute a kind of divine power to people with power, wealth and fame, and deem those with a glib tongue as some sort of ‘messengers of God’. So presidents, prime ministers, musicians, movie stars, writers, artists and the like are mobbed and fawned over as if they belong to another world, distant from the average person. Perhaps that is why the average person yearns to get close to such personalities and bask in their ‘aura’. True, some of these personalities deserve admiration, perhaps even emulation, but they are just as human as anyone—which means they are not perfect or divine.
Obviously, fan following is crucial for people in the limelight, and with changed technology enabling instant communication, hits and likes are considered the hallmark of popularity. So we have print, electronic and digital news outlets informing us of the number of followers stars have, thereby creating a larger fan base—the herd mentality seems inveterate. Never mind talent; never mind political, economic and governance delivery—as long as some of these personalities have maximum visibility, they are considered ‘superstars’ or leaders of their trade. Why is it that we fail to distinguish between a person and her career or profession? While a person lends much to her career or profession and vice versa, a person and her career or profession are not the same. Not to mention stars or other heavyweights on the global stage, even in our lowly middle-class existence, the first thing we ask is, “What does s/he do?” Nobody asks, “What kind of person is she?” Why do we get this differentiation so wrong?
For some people, the need to be close to power, wealth and fame is so deeply ingrained that it is pathetic. We see it every day—name-dropping, Facebook posts, attending all events of the idolised where and when possible, shamelessly angling for an invite, waiting for long hours for just a glimpse of the idolised, being seen with stars and leaders, etc.—with all subtleties and self-respect abandoned. The young may be forgiven, for they know no better, but for those who left youth behind decades ago, all these are shameful spectacles and speak of some emptiness in their lives. There is no law or religious precept that says we cannot admire, idolise or befriend powerful, wealthy and famous persons, but who and how it is done is what defines character and maturity. Epstein’s friends must be finding that out now. However powerful, wealthy and famous, people like Epstein aren’t worth the friendship, and all proximity makes us directly and indirectly complicit in their human aberrations and crimes—otherwise, why would very big names run for cover today?
Only in time will we know how much Epstein and his activities have impacted global politics and economics, but it is certainly known how adversely and irreparably the lives of victims have been affected, for which there can be no justification or tolerance. It is only countries with a moral compass that will act against those responsible and deliver justice to victims.
Over the decades, as concealed or suppressed details emerge about famous people in politics, showbiz, music, literature, etc., related to domestic violence, adultery, underage sex and other criminally deviant behaviour, idols have tumbled down from their pedestals—not only because they are human, but because they believed they were above decent human behaviour. Disappointment and shame engulf fans for blind adulation and wasted time, money, energy and misplaced devotion. Still, because human beings are human, we stumble in “… foolishly layin’ our hearts on the table”. (“Stumblin’ In” was written by Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn and recorded by Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman in November 1978.)
(The Columnist is a Dimapur-based veteran journalist, poet and former Editor of Nagaland Page. Published in the February 8, 2026 issue of North East Now)