As nation polarizes, power of celebrity activism remains iffy
Celebrity activism is far from a new concept, and one of Rutgers’ most prestigious graduates is a prime example of star power attempting to beget political power. Paul Robeson was an incredibly outspoken celebrity, advocating for workers' rights and civil rights throughout his career. Harry Belafonte, James Brown, Jane Fonda and more were also part of the 20th century wave of celebrity activism. While at first the practice was idiosyncratic, now celebrity endorsements are commonplace and essentially expected. The 2018 midterms were par for the course, with icons like Oprah, Taylor Swift, Dave Chappelle and more hitting the campaign trail and making public endorsements, all for Democrats. While it’s what we’ve deemed normal in politics, is celebrity activism effective?
There’s no real conclusive evidence that celebrities attract fans to the polls, but the intention behind their endorsement is clear. They’ve been given influence, or social capital, by their fans. They try and use this influence to push people toward a political candidate in the same way they might push them toward watching their movie or buying their album. One of the first flaws in this practice is that it can seem disingenuous, especially when the celebrities seem diametrically opposed to the politician in thought.
One of the most jarring examples of clashing ideology in a celebrity endorsement took place in 2016. Pusha T — a proud former drug dealer who’s made a career of rapping about said drug dealing – teamed up with the Hillary Clinton campaign. Crucially, the irony lies in Clinton’s proud endorsement and pushing of her husband's 1994 crime bill, which targeted drug dealers with mandatory minimum sentences that have retroactively been deemed far too harsh. The Clinton-Pusha T pairing was essentially the opposing sides of the war on drugs coming together for a photo op. It was also clearly an endorsement aimed at activating Black voters, who were no doubt quick to note the very different views that Clinton and Pusha T have on law enforcement. These types of endorsements are simply off-putting and subvert the goal, which is to make the politician seem more authentic and likable.
Another factor to consider is the way Republicans have systematically injected a resentment to “elitism” and celebrity activism in a way that Democrats largely haven’t. In the Midwest, the narrative of “coastal elites” has been a successful talking point for Republicans for decades now. Contorting the stereotypes of people in rural areas to make it seem like prominent figures from urban areas don’t respect or value their traditions and views is something that happens often.
Conservative media plays a role in this resentment in a different way by trying to claim that celebrities essentially don’t have the knowledge or the right to effectively comment on politics. FOX’s Laura Ingraham telling LeBron James to “shut up and dribble” is just a recent iteration of what’s become a common practice in right-wing media.
When it comes to success stories, like the Carters (Jay Z and Beyoncé) constantly stumping for former President Barack Obama, it seems like the candidates were tremendously popular in the first place. These appearances can come across as a victory lap instead of a sincere gesture for someone behind in the polls. In Tennessee, Democrat Phil Bredesen ran a milquetoast, moderate Senate campaign in hopes of getting over on name recognition as a former governor. When Swift started posting on Instagram in support of Bredesen's campaign, voter registration ballooned. Yet when Election Day rolled around, Bredesen was rolled as well, losing by more than 10 points. When a politician isn’t popular by their own merit, it seems like a celebrity can’t drag them across the finish line.
In conversation with USA Today, David Jackson, a political science professor at Bowling Green State University, seemed to agree. “Celebrities don’t really have these huge, overall game-changing effects,” Jackson said. He thinks they only help in incredibly tight races, but their influence is routinely marginal.
This isn’t to say that activism by celebrities is a bad thing, but it may not carry the influence we’ve come to assume it does. The assumption is born of the strong legacy of celebrity political action, like the work of Robeson. A clear difference is that in his time, celebrity activism wasn’t the norm. Now that star-powered endorsements and stumping have become a biannual fact of life, it seems that it has also lost its potency.
