Diana's blood on society's hands
Campus Times
September 5, 1997
"Princess Diana Dead." That was the unavoidable statement
CNN posted on the television screen. Under it, some of the first pictures
of the mangled Mercedes told us immediately how the Princess died.
When the paparazzi followed her car with motorcycles, their intent was
to get a quick shot of Di and her new beau, Dodi Fayed.
But after entering a Parisian tunnel, Diana experienced her last media
dodge.
Why wouldn't they just leave her alone? We just might find the answer
if we took a look back in time and then in the mirror.
Since her fairy tale wedding, we have seen every glimpse of Diana's
life in the tabloids. The gritty photographs told us she was constantly
bombarded with snooping photographers. Evidently, we did not care about
her enough to stop buying the stuff.
According to NBC News, about 18 million people read the National Enquirer
per week. About 4 million people watch "Hard Copy" every night.
Thirty-six million people read People per week and, incidentally, Diana
was on People's cover 43 times, holding the distinction of being on their
cover the most. With those kinds of numbers, the paparazzi's work was obviously
appreciated somewhere.
It is no secret that the world was obsessed with the former Princess
of Wales. From her bitter divorce to her steamy affairs to her trips around
the world, she was a superstar.
This summer, we wanted to know all about Diana and her new love. The
paparazzi was taking us there, and judging from the number of tabloids we
bought, we were grateful. Our suppliers were paid handsomely: a picture
of Di and Dodi together awarded a paparazzo about $400,000. Tabloids shelled
out that much because they know people will buy the product if it has the
juice.
If we did not care about the rumors, the pictures would be worthless.
It would not be a business. Diana would have been left alone. She could
still be alive today.
We planned to see her through her next marriage, the growth of her sons,
menopause, and old age. The paparazzi would have taken us there. They would
have continued to be our eyes, ears and backstage passes to the glitz and
glamour of Princess Di.
Now this cat-and-mouse game has come to an end, with Diana dead. Our
informant has suddenly become the bad guy, as we all refuse to admit that
we were part of it. The truth is, the paparazzi was a team of hit men. We
began ordering the hit from the moment we started paying people to haunt
her.
We literally loved her to death. Like crazed maniacs, we fell to the
hype of the rumors, the glamour and the mystery of the royal family. The
media waved the pictures in front of our faces and we could not help but
peek, just as photographers did when they stalked her. For that, we are
no better.
Reading the stories, we too peeked over walls, towered from helicopters
and weaved through traffic just to get a glimpse of Diana. If we cared about
her causes, her privacy and her safety, we would have looked away. The truth
is, quality of life was never in the cards for her, at least not the way
we were playing the game.
We are the only ones that have the power to put the paparazzi out of
business, but instead, we are making it thrive. We pour our money, intrigue
and excitement into what the Globe and Enquirer have scooped-the dirtier
the better.
And as for our so-called "love affair" with the Princess of
Wales-it is meaningless. How can we mourn and proclaim our love for her
when we have spent more than a decade looking for the newest dirt on her?
The obsession was not for Lady Di, it was for the fantasy she represented.
Only now do we realize that she was a real human being, vulnerable to pain,
suffering, tragedy and even death.
We read the tabloids, hunting for blood and misfortune and now that
we have the ultimate tragedy, we realize it is not all it is cracked up
to be. Can this fatal lesson put us all to rest? Probably not, but at least
now the Princess can have her peace.
Andrea Gardner, a senior broadcast journalism major is editor in
chief of the Campus Times. She can be reached by e-mail at gardnera@ulv.edu.
