The Fame Trap – When Visibility Becomes the Goal

The Fame Trap

Fame used to be a byproduct of doing something well. Now, it’s often the goal in itself.

We live in a culture where visibility equals value, where algorithms reward noise over nuance, and where the spotlight has become the ultimate currency. But this shift isn’t just cultural – it’s psychological.

American psychologist Donna Rockwell spent years interviewing public figures about the inner effects of fame. Her conclusion: recognition changes people, whether they want it to or not. She outlines four stages in what she calls the inner journey of celebrity: first, euphoria. Then self-surveillance. Then alienation. And finally – if you’re lucky – a fragile form of acceptance.

Many describe a growing split between who they are and the persona they’re expected to maintain. You begin to perform, even when no one is watching. You’re stuck, as Erving Goffman would put it, in the frontstage role – constantly managing impressions, even in solitude.

It’s not just stars. In his book Claims to Fame, sociologist Joshua Gamson introduces the idea of celebrity narcissism – not as a personality disorder, but as a cultural condition. In this model, the self is continuously constructed, evaluated, and edited in real time. Not just by public figures, but by all of us, in our carefully curated micro-celebrity worlds on social media.

But fame isn’t just a mirror. It’s also a filter.

As visibility increases, so does a subtle but powerful privilege distortion. You are met with smiles. Doors open. People agree. Your words carry weight – not necessarily because they’re wise, but because you’re seen. It’s not arrogance. It’s infrastructure. Your surroundings quietly reshape themselves around you. You become the stage.

That may be the real problem: not the attention, but the permanence of it.

A classic Harvard Business Review article called it The Permanent Stage. In today’s public life, everyone is performing – all the time. There’s no room for rest, no time for quiet calibration of the self. The show never ends.

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When Fame Becomes the Goal

What happens when visibility becomes a goal – not just a side effect of excellence?

American philosopher Douglas Giles has proposed the term diasymocracy – a system where attention itself grants authority. In this model, we listen to those with the most followers, not necessarily the most insight. Influence is measured in views, not in values.

The result? A public sphere where noise drowns out nuance. Where substance is present, but often ignored – not because skilled voices are missing, but because they’re not optimized for fame. They’re in workshops. Classrooms. Labs. Chapels. Doing the work.

And that’s why it’s so powerful when someone like Philip Faber – at the peak of his fame – chooses to step back. Not from the public. But from the expectation of constant exposure. In a recent podcast, he says:

“All those shows I didn’t do – I’m proud of them.” “Because beneath all the buzz and shimmer, there’s something of real value.”

It takes courage to say no. To choose not more, but better. Not performance, but principle. To live up to something – not off something.

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A Different Kind of Influence

In the end, fame is just a flash – a reflex in the collective eye. It can be flattering. Even useful. But it cannot be a substitute. Not for identity. Not for ethics. And certainly not for craft, knowledge, or judgement.

So maybe the real question isn’t who we see. But who we listen to – and why.