When I was a kid, I suppose my role models were mostly professional athletes. Sports was everything (no offense to school or my parents or Boy Scouts leader). Though I never was very good at any of them, particularly sports or school or being an obedient kid. I managed just one scouting merit badge — in stamp collecting.
I did much better imagining myself as the star pitcher, throwing the ball against the side of the house every evening as if it were the perfect strikeout pitch in the big game — until my dad yelled at me to stop thumping the wall or he’d show me a thump or two.
Athletes were respected and admired. They were the stars of the sports pages, the evening news, radio and TV broadcasts. They were famous for good things.
I wanted to be just like them.
But this isn’t a column about sports. It’s about role models and how a good thing has turned bad. As we used to say in the days of videotape, let’s fast forward this story.
Some of today’s role models are athletes but many are just outlandish people with questionable if any abilities. They may have lots of TikTok, Instagram and Twitter followers, but they often don’t add much to society other than maybe entertainment, amusement, clothing, dog grooming recommendations and, in too many cases, anger.
Many use rude and insulting messages to build up their fan base. Their motivation frequently is money. They drive fans to their website to donate money, to buy branded hats and T-shirts, to retweet and regurgitate the messages to spread the word and build up their own cash flow.
Social media amplifies bad behavior, rewards outbursts and encourages people to get in each other’s face. Treating people fairly, lowering your voice and raising your self-control is not the way to build up likes and hashtag hits.
Sadly, too many politicians and other social media influencers have become some of the loudest and most dishonest role models of the 21st century. They profit from spreading amplified misinformation. They win elections and put money in the bank, even though it hurts people who have real problems that need honest solutions.
Whether claims of stolen elections (no proof), witch hunts (no witches) or an army of 87,000 IRS agents coming to audit your tax returns (mathematically not true). Whether outrageous politically inspired tirades by a Georgia congresswoman that “Democrats are the party of pedophiles,” or the singer-turned-shoe-designer who posted antisemitic rants, or conspiracy theorists who believe COVID-19 is a hoax.
All the garbage is out there on social media, influencing more people to see conspiracies.
I was in line to get a prescription filled in Anchorage over the weekend. The line was long, there was only one pharmacist on duty, and a woman ahead of me was having a loud problem getting a prescription filled for a family member. She started yelling at the pharmacist, who was trying to help—but she wasn’t listening.
She eventually stormed off, prompting two other people in line to discuss the problem as they saw it: The shortages of pharmacists, service workers and supplies are all false; someone in government is manipulating the unemployment numbers; businesses are lying; it’s all fake news intended to mislead the public. Of course, they both said, neither of them wanted to go back to work.
When our role models are dishonest, how can we expect the public to accept the simple truth: There was only one pharmacist on duty and he could only do so much.
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