Is the age of the megastar fading at the BBC? It is possible to read too much into Gary Lineker’s retirement, which has dominated headlines. Some have wondered if this heralds a general ousting of “the woke” from public life – Lineker was famous for his outspoken “lefty” views. Others reckon the decision stems from an outbreak of tall poppy syndrome; the public were jealous and hounded him out.
Lineker himself has hinted that his move has something to do with upcoming changes to Match of the Day. But Lineker is also remarkable for his salary, about £1.35m a year, making him the corporation’s highest earner. Will his successor be paid as much? It’s unlikely.
The salaries of top presenters at the BBC have been falling for at least a decade. As the journalist Archie Bland pointed out last week, Lineker’s much-discussed salary pales in comparison with the three-year contract the BBC handed Jonathan Ross in 2006, which at £18m might well represent the peak of its star-worshipping madness. By 2009, highly paid presenters were being warned of coming payouts, which have followed at regular intervals ever since. When in 2017 the corporation started publishing top salaries – itself a sign of a culture change – Chris Evans headed the charts with a haul of £2.2m a year. That is almost double Lineker’s pay.
More signs of the corporation’s anti-star shift were visible last month, when BBC director general Tim Davie announced he had “kind of banned” the word “talent” for top presenters, as part of a cultural overhaul in which everyone is treated equally and celebrities don’t get above themselves. No one, he said, was indispensable.
A change of this kind at the BBC is welcome. Brilliant writers, producers, researchers and directors deserve a bigger whack of the money and the status.
The corporation has long suffered from a sort of star-struck underconfidence, seeming not to realise that it can make its own stars: top presenters become household names not because of their irreplaceable personalities but because of the high regard in which the institution is held. If they are poached by commercial rivals, then gifted replacements tend to be found waiting in the wings. But still it frets about holding on to “big names”, and pays accordingly. Lineker was an engaging and knowledgable presenter, but this is not why he was given so much money. The money, if we are honest, was for his fame.
If the BBC is shifting its approach to celebrity, this is to be commended, too, as an act of resistance. The rest of the culture has long been heading in the opposite direction. Skills, knowledge and true talent matter less and less. We value fame too highly.
Our strange reverence for fame is written deep – witness the absurd amounts we pay for otherwise unremarkable objects that have brushed against celebrity hands. A sweater worn by Matthew Perry in a single episode of Friends recently sold for £4,900. But fame worship is growing. You can trace the inflection point to the rise of social media, which not only increased the power and reach of existing celebrities but created a brace of new ones, rivals to the personalities that had previously emerged only from institutions in television, film, media and the arts.
In response, these institutions panicked. Worried about their continued “relevance” in the face of this new technology, they anxiously succumbed to the new hierarchy. Long-held systems for divining merit were recklessly cast aside in favour of popularity, “influence’” and clicks.
You can see this in broadcasting and also in the children’s book market, where celebrity authors suck up more and more money and attention. You can see it in films, which increasingly feature big name influencers, the better to bring in online audiences. In music, performers feel increasingly pressured to work on their “personal brands” and in TV the Duke and Duchess of Sussex are still being offered expensive projects on the strength of their celebrity. You can see it in the visual arts, too, where A-list actors “dabbling” with paint are handed the kinds of opportunities most career artists only dream about.
Quality suffers. In broadcasting, celebrity generalists now increasingly replace specialists and intellectuals – Zoe Ball and Greg James are two of the BBC’s top earners. Johnny Depp is exhibiting his art, A Bunch of Stuff, in a coveted gallery in New York; a previous sale of his prints raised an estimated $3.65m. Depp is a skilled actor but a relative novice when it comes to painting. As are Brad Pitt, Jim Carrey, Pierce Brosnan and Sharon Stone, whose art also soaks up vast amounts of space and cash. Is this what the public deserve?
Yet more dangers lurk in the worship of fame. Too much deference, and celebrities start to behave in ways that we should not tolerate – Huw Edwards and Phillip Schofield were made to feel untouchable. When in September Elle Macpherson announced holistic treatment and her “inner sense” had successfully treated her cancer, this mattered: people will pay attention. In 2013 when the BBC invited Russell Brand on Newsnight to discuss his political views, they could not know he would one day use his platform to spout conspiracy theories. Acquire enough fame, and people will listen to anything you say.
• Martha Gill is an Observer columnist
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