People constantly point to the fact that Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus for 30 silver pieces. I find it odd that the Bible even indicates how many pieces of silver Judas was given, or, for that matter, the fact that he was given anything at all. Would it have been better if it were 40 pieces, 50, 100? What about 1,000? Would it make more sense to people if Judas was offered the world in turn for his kiss? The ultimate question is thus stated: what gift is a rational exchange for the betrayal of a presumed savior?

The implication of pointing to Judas’s small acquisition is, of course, that there exists a possible level of silver that would be more rational, that would make more sense—thus, there must be some amount of silver that would make Judas’s decision more understandable.

Perhaps the problem lies solely in the fact that we live in a world too dominated by economics. The implication above points to the general process of computing opportunity costs: we weigh our options and select from the one which appears to have the greatest level of utility. But there seems to be a reality beyond economic models and calculated graphs—can we determine, through the application of economics, at what level an individual would betray his or her friends and family, at what level all that which we hold true and dear fades away as the offerings of a better “deal” are presented? Utilitarianism attempts to answer this question—can we adequately invest our faith in a system that weighs the betrayal of all that is good and right in the world against a specified amount of money, a formulaic output of silver?

The conclusion is rather obvious: regardless of the amount, a betrayal is a betrayal. 30, 50, 500—it makes no difference. Economics can help us understand many things, though it is mute when it comes to the matters of fairness, justice, and compassion. Ultimately, we live in a system driven almost exclusively by economic forces, often at the expense of humanism and genuine empathy. Thus, I think it is rather ironic when people scoff at how little Judas exchanged the betrayal of Jesus for—after all, I don’t know anyone else who wouldn’t have done the same for a mere 10 pieces of silver, let alone 30.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/04/27/miley-cyrus-topless-in-va_n_98836.html

Above is a link I was sent earlier today; it is an article written for the Huffington Post regarding the recent uproar about Miley Cyrus—the famed “Hannah Montana”—posing semi-topless for Vanity Fair magazine. Apparently parents and fans are upset about the semi-eroticized/sexualized cover. This got me thinking: in a society where even the most “innocent” stars are becoming the most controversial (recall Jamie Lynn Spears and her pregnancy—she was the star of Disney Channel’s Zoey 101; the show’s viewing demographic is comprised mainly of 8-16 year old girls), isn’t this sort of exposure a rite of passage? That is to say, what would have happened if Miley did not pose for Vanity Fair—it would have been a question of “when,” and not “if.” It seems as though controversy has transitioned, sloppily, into a good, a form of capital. In short, we have successfully commodified not only the product of controversy, but controversy itself—we demand it, feign disgust, eat it up, and ask for more.

Of course, Miley isn’t the only example of this. The rise of TMZ, Perez Hilton, and so forth—all are examples of society’s profound relationship with an increasingly sexualized, irresponsible celebrity culture. An entire industry has developed in response to this culture. What about those stars who aren’t posing half-nude on the cover of Vanity Fair? Who knows? They haven’t done anything explicit, anything that would upset the delicate balance of the social equilibrium. In a way, we feed on the poor choices and inappropriate actions of others. Whether we do this to supply legitimacy to our own wrong doings—much in the way Disneyland provides the essential dichotomy for Los Angeles in Baudrillard’s argument—is hard to say. But perhaps this is it; perhaps the continuously-reaffirmed fame of these celebrities is derived primarily from our desire to have a scapegoat, a sense of social closure, a medium to allocate our own misconducts to a portrait of greater offenses.

Thus, these celebrities provide a far more instrumental role than otherwise supposed. Indeed, Miley’s shoot on the cover of Vanity Fair is precisely what keeps society in order—we are able, in our collective effort, to revel in her poor choice in order to legitimize our own. After all, we didn’t pose half-nude on the front of a nationally-syndicated magazine, right? After all, we didn’t get pregnant at the age of 16 while acting on the Disney channel, right? After all, we wear underwear while wearing a skirt, right? I said that we have commodified controversy—I now want to take that a step further, and suggest that we have commodified the need for a false-legitimizing controversy. Our own experiences, our own times of cheating on our loved ones, of lying to our friends, of skipping out on class—everything, from the most terrible to the most trivial, is made more acceptable. We are able to swallow it a little better in knowing that there is still Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton—we are able to tell ourselves those little lies to get through each and every day, to maintain some composure as each week slips through our open hands, as each year draws to a close and we shuffle off to our boring jobs, dead marriages and dying ambitions. And the irony is pronounced accordingly: at one time we condemn and criticize them—as our social standards dictate, for we could never break from that false reality of expectation formed in our collective conscience—while at the same time we absolutely demand that they act in such ways. We need them to pose for Vanity Fair, to get pregnant. We need them to be bad and despicable and explicit. In a phrase, we need them to be socially subversive in order to maintain that delicate and fragile construction of social interaction. So, I suppose the next article on the Huffington Post should read: “Miley Cyrus Poses Half-nude on Vanity Fair Cover; Fans say ‘Thank You, Miley. You are Our Hero.’”